#(if he can't decide? then let fate figure it out)

[bluesidez]

Bless Your Heart | 1. HELLO, MY OLD FRIEND

You're nervous, wary of your new environment, but you're excited to take on the challenge of becoming a ranch hand. Meeting the O'Hara brothers is sure to stray you one way or another.

tread lightly ⋆⋆⋆ humor, Miguel is...difficult, mentions of food, animals, animal manure, I think that's it!

word count ⋆⋆⋆ 5.6k (shoutout to the beta, DA WIFE!! @slushycoookie 💚)

note on the fridge ⋆⋆⋆ Special shoutouts to @opaloharas @monarchberrysblog @miguelhugger2099 @hysterical-reblogging as well as the Miggy server for guiding me with this story! It would still be in the drafts without y'all. Huge thanks to my beta Cookie! 🥺 I can't begin to say how much you've helped me. It would literally take up 20+ pages. JUST KNOW! THAT YOU ROCK!

last | next ℧ masrterlist ℧ AO3

JULY

You didn’t know you’d be back in the south so soon. A part of you wanted to laugh at yourself for crawling back to the place that you swore you’d leave behind.

Growing up here can be rewarding, but the itch to escape the fear that others placed on the outside world to make your own decisions rushed through your body every year.

So, you did just that.

You broke free of the grasps of superstitious aunts, traditional geezers, and terrified grandparents. You spread your wings to the city. You traveled the world. You got to know family that knew the ins-and-outs of various transportation systems better than you ever could.

And yet in those small, almost insignificant, moments, you found yourself yearning for the South.

You missed the way the air smelt before it rained. The expanse of land as far as the eye could see. The warmth of your closest family who never quite understood your ambitions, but urged you to chase after them anyway. The taste of grease and hot food, no one else in the world could match those down-to-earth flavors.

You missed home.

Subconsciously, you found the South in the things you did.

In the way you added packets of sugar to any tea you had because apparently no one knows what sweet tea is.

In the way you called people “ma’am” and “sir” when you weren’t really thinking about it.

In the way you had a little saying for every circumstance.

In the way you suddenly started to crave butter pecan ice cream as if you were in your 40s.

Still, home didn’t exactly mean back under your parents’ roof. You didn’t miss home that much, enough to have a curfew at your big age. You figured that if you were going to move back, it would be to an area where you could at least catch the nearest flight to some far off land.

The advertisement to be a ranch hand was a bit obscure, but the doodle of the big family on the corner of it was enough to sell it to you. It probably wasn’t the best idea to pack everything up so soon, but the pay was so unbelievable that you decided to test fate.

Your own family would have a heart attack. First, you were going to be almost in the middle of nowhere and second, you were going to be doing hard labor. Definitely not the little girl they watched grow up anymore.

It all felt surreal.

The sun was beating down on your legs through the windshield of a taxi-van. No tint was a match for this heat. You could hear your suitcases and bags rattling in the back with the one box of things you just couldn’t sell. You weren’t throwing away pots and pans, and no one wanted to buy your old dragonfly lamp.

The driver was a nice old man who spoke to you like you were a long lost relative, but he was starting to get way too quiet for your liking, and, like an idiot, you didn’t put the address in your phone. The service was spotty and all you could see was miles and miles of tall trees and power lines.

You leaned back and hugged your purse close to your body, letting out a quiet huff.

“You nervous?” the man asks.

You panned your eyes from a “Honey For Sale” sign to look at the rearview mirror.

“A little. But, you gotta jump in with both feet, you know?”

Such a light answer for what could be a walk right into your untimely disappearance.

Or budding success. You weren’t sure yet.

“That’s right. Wish I could get you to say that to my daughter. All she wanna do is lay around and watch TV all day.”

“Well,” your heart picks up as he takes a turn. The land was huge, red gates covering acres of green land and a few buildings spread across it. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Just give her time.”

He laughed as he pulled up to the gate, “Ain’t that much time in the world. Do you need me to drive further?”

“No, right here is fine, I’ll just drag everything through.”

You were quick to get out and get your things, body running on adrenaline. The cash you handed him was some of the last bit you had left. You're tense, wary of the new environment, but more than anything, you were excited for something new.

“Sure you don’t want me to drive a little closer? Those houses are far.”

“I think here is good. Don’t want to startle anybody.”

“Alright,” he slams the trunk and gets back to the driver’s seat. “You be safe now.”

With a quiet thanks and a wave, you watch his van back out of the rocky path. The dust under the tires makes you cough.

Roughed up combat boots scratch against the rocks in the path as you move to open the gate. It creaks loudly as you push past and the wooden sign burned with an H-marked spider jolts against it.

The person you were contacting said to just come on in once you got here. No number to call, no person to look for, no dress code.

Out in the open, you could hear cows talking to each other and birds singing their tunes. The wheels of your suitcase against the trail become the back beat of their song.

The land was truly beautiful, the few homes standing tall and proud against the plains. A small pond was at your right, ducks and mosquitoes floating over the top.

Following the path, you walked until you reached the first person you could find, the blurry image of reds, blues, and browns coming to form him.

A tall glass of water, taller than any other man you’ve ever met. You were sure if he ever fell off of a horse, it would be a hard flight to the ground.

The hair peeking from under his hat was as brown and curly as the chocolate shavings you’d see on grocery store cakes. The skin you could see was a rich caramel, hidden in the shade of dark felt.

You scanned the expanse of his back, wondering how he worked in clothes that made you feel hot just looking at them. Even with the shadow of the rim, sweat was still beating down his neck and soaking up the collar of his plaid button down.

A thick belt was snug around his waist and his jeans were mighty tight. Dirt caked the hem of them and walking your eyes up, every white stitch was accounted for. A name was on his back pocket, but it was too thin, too scrambled to see.

Dragging a hefty suitcase across the rocky path, you got closer to him, and with an extended hand and a polite smile, you introduce yourself.

“You needed a ranch hand?”

He turns his head to the side, barely acknowledging you, and turns back with a grumble, “Of course, this is the person I end up with.”

Your brows furrow, “What was that?”

“Nothing. You can put your stuff in the guest house. Join me at the barn in five minutes.”

“Do you have a name or were you never taught any manners?”

He stopped fiddling with the broken buckle of a saddle and turned completely towards you, “You talk back to all your bosses on the first day?”

Thick eyebrows lowered as he squinted at you and your breath hitched. If his hair was chocolate shavings, then his eyes were the mocha cake topped with swirls of coffee icing.

No man needed eyelashes that pretty nor lips that perfect and full. His arms were crossed as he stood there, body barely contained in his clothes. No man deserved to be that big with a striking face to match.

It was dangerous.

“Most bosses give me their names,” you drop your stretched hand, and the air lulls between you two. The purse across your body felt like it was digging in your skin. “Or at least a greeting.”

“Well, you’ll learn pretty quickly that I’m not most bosses.”

You bite your tongue, watching as he goes back to what he’s doing. That southern drawl in his voice was lingering in your mind as you realized that he truly meant what he said.

There was no proper introduction, no tour, no beginner’s manual.

Breathing deep you try again, “Can you point me in the right direction?”

His head flicks to the right, stance unmoving like a pillar. The three houses were all that were left and the barn was in another direction.

Gripping the handle again, you made your way back to the trail.

With a hand over your eyes to block the sun, you wonder if the guy from earlier would care if you passed out in the middle of the road. The distance between the houses and the animals feels further than it needed to be.

“Hey, hey, hey! Where ya heading?”

You slow your pace, unsure if the man sitting on a swinging bench was talking to you or someone else.

“Well, don’t just stand there. C’mon!” he waves over with the excitement of a little kid. “I don’t bite.”

Getting closer, the guy grunts as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. He’s just as tall as the first man you met, but he looks lighter, happier.

He smiles as you pull your bag to the porch, brown lips stretching to show pretty teeth. He tips his felt hat off, and when he steps into the light, the sun dances across his eyes, bits of brown tapping along a hazel base.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he sticks out a hand and places his hat back, something you expected the first man to do. “I’m Gabriel O’Hara. Welcome to The Huntsman Farms! ‘Where the stallions roam free.’”

You shake his hand with no hesitation, noting the strength in his grip, the roughness of his fingertips, “Thank you, I’m glad to be here. Although, I’m not sure if your buddy was informed?”

Gabriel pauses, then looks over to the paddock with a grimace, “Uh, he’s not too fond of visitors. A little bit of a stick in the mud. Sorry about that. I promise he’s all hat and no cattle. Figuratively.”

“That hat is pretty tall, then. He did mention a guest house in this general direction.”

“And to that guest house, I will guide you.”

He grabs your case and lifts it up with ease, turning to go behind one of the most stark-white houses you’ve ever seen.

There was a slight limp in his stride, noticeable enough for you to want to grab everything back, but watching him walk in front of you was entrancing.

Another pair of thighs and calves that fill denim cuts just before they make room to cover his boots. The brown belt hugged his waist nicely and the expanse of his back rooted itself in his t-shirt.

Sweat was building on your scalp.

Were all the men on this farm that built?

“So, is it your first time in this neck of the woods?”

You blink, “In Texas?”

“In the countryside, hun.”

“Oh, no! Born and raised in the South. I have plenty of family that lived in the country. I wouldn’t call myself a connoisseur of all things country, though.”

“As long as you can stand the heat, I think you’ll be alright. Had a guy sign up for the job and he passed out on the first day. Poor thing couldn’t tell a calf from a kid.”

“Well, Mr. O’Hara, I can assure you that I know that much. And a little heat never hurt anybody.”

“Glad to hear it,” he laughs. “And please, call me Gabriel. It’s a heap of O’hara’s on this land alone. Gotta keep track.”

You hum in understanding, thinking back to the family name on the advertisement.

Looking to the backyard next to the path, you notice a wooden playset with hot pink spray paint fading away to green on the slide. There’s a giant tree with a lone tire swing and a red wagon piled with lantanas and pink ladies under it.

The guest house matches the atmosphere of the playful area: pale teal wood with a chocolate brown door and window shutters. Three rocky steps lead to a welcome mat shaped like a cloud, and a few shrubs run along the edge of the house.

Gabriel steps on the stones, body stiff as he places your suitcase right by the door.

“Are you the owner?” you find yourself asking, steering your mind away from its earlier spiral.

He straightens up as he unlocks the door, grin prominent even though he wasn’t facing you.

“You could say that. I pride myself on taking care of the critters when I can,” the door creaks and he finally uses the handle of your bag to pull it in. “No unhappy chickens. No angry bulls. Unless I’m on one.”

“You’re a bull rider? Are you pulling my leg, Gabriel?”

“Oh, I wish someone was pulling mine. This last sucker got me good. I didn’t stretch that well before I got on ‘em and my bullfighters were scattered. Next thing I know, I’m in the air with three seconds left and my fingers slipping from the rope. Then, boom! Landed on the gate with one ankle in between the bars and a pull so deep, I’m on fire.”

Gritting your teeth and breathing in air through the gaps, your muscles tense like you were there.

“God, are you ok?”

“Well, you’re still staring at this pretty face, ain’t you?”

A laugh you didn’t know you had in you finds its way out. Gabriel’s smile grows, shining just under the rim of his hat. He switched the light on as he joined you, hands on his hips as he looked around the room.

It was cozy and compact with the kitchen mere steps away from the living room you walked into. Sunlight coated the room with stripes through the barely open blinds and a “Home Is Where The Heart Is” sign stood out on the wall next to the entrance.

The colors were similar to the exterior, blues and browns with a splash of white.

“I do hope you can come to love it here. I know it’s not much, but whatever you need, I’ll do what I can to help you out.”

“Thank you so much. This was actually a lot more than I was expecting, honestly. The ad was a little ambiguous.”

“What’s life without a little fun?”

“A boring one according to you. I do have more stuff all the way back at the gate that I should get to before it’s seen as garbage.”

“Oh, you stop that,” Gabriel says, blocking your exit. “I’ll get my guys to bring it in later. You go ahead and get settled and I’ll check out your ACs before I leave you. You’ll need it.”

He stomped his shoes a bit then switched on the living room box. The stuffiness of the air lifted and the cool breeze and hum of the AC unit took over. He turns the corner and you open the blinds next to the couch, opening up the room even more.

Ten seconds and a blink later you hear a scream so high, you think one of the goats may have found its way into the home.

Running after the sound, you park behind Gabriel to see what caused the commotion.

In the bedroom with the light skirting around the curtains stood a tall creature with a head of flying fur. It had antennas that moved at a steady rhythm and a bend that felt irregular, strange to the eye.

Gabriel was leaning on the doorway, hands slapping against the wallpaper with short breath.

When he flipped the lights you gasp as the biggest, sleekest cat you’ve ever seen stands on its hind legs and kneads the air. Its eyes are a bright green, standing out against its jet-black fur as it stares at you unamused.

“Gabbie!” Gabriel shouts, moving to bend and breathe a sigh of relief. “Baby girl, don’t do that. You know my heart can’t take it.”

A little girl ducks out from behind the cat’s head with a toothy smile and a pocket of giggles in her chest. She lets her cat down who only weaves between her legs, nearly knocking her over. Her hair is wild, thick dark brown fly-aways escaping what you think is a ponytail.

“Daddy said when you say that, it only means that you’re actually scared!”

“Your daddy don’t know whether to scratch his watch or check his ass. Don’t listen to him.”

“Are you here to help on the farm?” she asks you.

“Why yes I am-”

“Baby girl, you know that’s not how you greet people. Get it right,” Gabriel chides.

She huffs, hair bouncing as she looks down at her feet. Her hands go behind her back, embarrassed.

“‘M sorry, ma’am,” she mumbles, thick eyebrows furrowed.

Her cat sits in front of her and meows low, body stretching up to place its paws on her shoulders. It started to rub against her face, purring loud and content.

Your heart tugged at the scene. It reminded you of yourself, getting fussed at for the smallest things.

Walking next to her, you squat to match her level.

“It’s ok, sweetie. You didn’t mean me any harm,” you place your hands in your lap as you look at her.

Her cheeks are full and her eyelashes are long. There’s a bandaid on her chin and from here you can see that her hair is stretched and curly, barely contained in a scrunchie trying to hold it all together. If she hadn’t confirmed it already, you would think she’s Gabriel’s daughter, a mole under her bottom lip matching the one on his jaw, but those eyebrows were reminiscent of the man from before.

“Tell you what, I’ll tell you my name, and you can tell me you and your kitty’s names. Deal?”

“Deal!”

You learn that her name is Gabriella and her cat is a Maine Coon named Jade, like the Bratz doll.

“Because his eyes are green like her’s! And he’s a cool cat. Did you know that ‘Kool Kat’ is Jade’s nickname?”

“I wouldn’t be a girl with a passion for fashion if I didn’t.”

She giggles, sienna eyes sparkling as she claps her hands.

“Want to see my dolls? We can play dress-up. And have a party! Oh, oh! I have tiaras for me and my cats. You can borrow one!”

“Gabbie.”

“I can push you on the swing and introduce you to the baby cows and ride the four-wheeler.”

“Baby girl.”

“And we can do parties! My birthday already passed, though. I’m 8! How old are you?”

“Gabriella,” Gabriel says louder. His hands are on his hips as he gives her a knowing look. “I know you hear me calling you. And you never ask a lady her age. That’s rude, baby girl.”

She pouts again and nods, picking up her cat from under its armpits. Jade sticks his tongue out and starts kneading once more.

“Now go run off and play. She needs to start her work, ok? If you do right, maybe she’ll play with you later.”

“Ok, Tío.”

Gabriel turns and leaves the room but before Gabriella can get too far, you tap her shoulder and urge her back with a finger. You cup your hands over your mouth and that glow is back in her eyes.

“28,” you whisper in her ear.

She leans back and smiles against the top of her cat’s head.

“You really are a princess,” she whispers back. She shuffles off before Gabriel can fuss again and you follow.

He guides her through the entryway, watching through the screen door as she and Jade run back to the main house.

“Sorry about that. I think she snuck in here while we were getting it ready.”

“It’s fine. She’s a cutie pie. I don’t mind at all.��

“Yeah, that she is,” he sighed. “One look at that face and you’re a goner.”

Looking at him, you could tell that those words were accurate. He couldn’t even hold his authority for too long.

“Did Miguel have something for you to do? I wanted to get Gabbie out of your hair, but there’s no telling what he has planned. He’s been running all over the ranch like a chicken with his head cut off.”

“Who?”

Gabriel snickered and looked to the side.

“I know it’s hot but don’t go forgetting stuff on me so soon, honey.”

“No, I, I really don’t know who Miguel is. Was that the first man I saw? Tall? Long hair? Wouldn’t look me in the eye?”

Gabriel’s head dipped as he slumped against the door.

“O’Hara’s. A line full of knuckleheads, I tell you,” he mumbles. “C’mon.”

“Even without a watch, I’m sure that you know it’s been more than five minutes.”

You rub a wrist over your temple, swiping away sweat. Gabriel clicks his teeth next to you.

“Look, if this is how you’re going to act with basic tasks, you won’t make it far here.”

“Really?” Gabriel answers for you.

Miguel turns, letting go of the stall he was unlocking.

“Thought you had business to tend to.”

“And I expected you to show some respect, so I guess we’re both up the creek without a paddle.”

“What do you want, Gabriel?”

“For starters, you should apologize to this lovely woman.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For being a jackass. We finally get some help around here and you can’t even muster up a smile on that square head of yours.”

“The same square head that your mama blessed you with?”

“The same one that I’m about to knock up against the barrels if you don’t quit it.”

Miguel smirked and started to roll up his sleeves. Your eyes zero in on his thick, sturdy arms decorated with hair. His muscles flex as his fingers fiddle with a button on his cuff.

“I’d like to see you try. You can barely stand straight right now.”

Gabriel takes his hat off and places it over a lasso hook, then cracks his neck. Your stomach lurches and you can’t tell if it’s because your brain has deluded you into thinking that they’re fighting over you, or if you’re actually nervous about two men well over six feet about to roll around in dirt.

As Miguel loses his hat and his hair falls to frame his face, you think the first option sounds more pleasing.

You back up as quietly as you can, the two of them shouting curses at each other so loudly that they don’t even notice your movements.

“I can’t believe you want this nice lady to see you on your ass.”

“And I can’t believe you still don’t know when to mind your own.”

“Your own is my own,” Gabriel bites back.

A crunch behind you grabs your attention.

Jade looks up at you, one eye scrunched as he munches on a bug. A tiny, sparkly pink cowboy hat adorns his head. Looking further, Gabriella looks up at you with big brown eyes.

The boys were only getting louder.

“Excuse me,” you interrupt them. “As much as this is entertaining me, little ears are listening.”

You point to the entrance where Gabriella is doing the worst job of hiding. Her fingers stand out against the white opening and Jade’s tail stands tall and curved. He makes a stunted meow as the attention falls on him.

In a heartbeat, their demeanors change. Balled up fists loosen and shirts unravel. They both drop to the ground, Gabriel struggling, and beckon her closer.

For once, Miguel looks softer, at ease.

“Hey, sunshine,”

Gabriella walks fast to get to him, hands fiddling together. Once she’s in his arms, he cradles her, kissing her cheek softly.

“Were you and Tío Gabri fighting?”

“No, no baby girl. We weren’t fighting.”

“Yeah, we were just talking,” Gabriel agrees, smoothing back her hair that shoots right back up afterward. “Just some brotherly love, is all.”

“Then why is your shirt all messed up?”

She points to Gabriel’s stretched collar and picks at a loose button on Miguel’s.

“One of the horses might have gotten a hold of it.”

“Yeah, Tío’s right, Bubba was a little late with feeding time today. Magenta might have gotten hungry.”

Gabriella twists her lip.

“Tío, you know Magenta doesn’t like boys! What if she ate you up?”

Gabriel laughs before he can even think of a response, eyes warm as he takes in the seriousness of his niece’s face. With her eyebrows pinched like that, she was the spitting image of her father, scowl and all.

“Well, thank God you’re here to rescue me. Your daddy was no help at all.”

“If Magenta can’t stand you, what makes you think she wants to see me?”

Gabriel sneered at Miguel who only shrugged back.

“What were you hiding for anyway, Gabbie? I thought I told you to go play.”

She stares at her fingers, chin tucked away into her chest. Miguel rubs her arm, silently encouraging her, while Gabriel tilts his head and waits.

“I,” her eyes glance at you then back down. “I just wanted to see her again.”

When Gabriella says your name, it’s like everything sparkles around her. Like there’s bubbles and glitter in the air.

Miguel rolled your name on his tongue. He took you in and looked at you with more than just disdain underlining his skin.

Getting up without letting his daughter go, then helping Gabriel off the ground, he acknowledges you.

“Can you ride a horse?”

Your tongue slides over your teeth in your mouth. It’s not missed on you the way he watches you shift your weight, eyes calculating and stern.

“No. No, I can’t.”

Miguel looks at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s completely fine. Not nothing none of us can’t teach you,” Gabriel supplies.

“I could teach you!” Gabriella perks up, body jerking in her father’s hold, but his body remains still.

You smile at her in thanks as Gabriel continues.

“Have you ever milked a cow? A goat?”

“Once,” Gabriel looks hopeful and Miguel’s eyebrow raises. “At a museum. It was a simulation.”

“Hear that Gabri? They’re doing simulations for cows now.”

“Can you,” Gabriel ignored his brother completely, “plant something in the soil?”

“Absolutely. My mama has a garden and I planted things with my grandma before.”

Gabriel lights up as he turns and hits Miguel on the shoulder with glee.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your last plant died. Nor that the last time you were helping your grandma was when you were three years old and completely in her way.

“So you can operate a shovel?”

“Yes, I can do that much.”

“Great,” Miguel says. “I know the perfect task for you.”

Excited, you thought nothing of the calmness in Miguel’s voice. His tone and drawl mixed with Gabriel’s sweetness were like a lullaby sinking you slowly to the ground.

Right about now, you’d say the wrong ground got a hold of you.

Grunting, you stick a scoop shovel under the pile of shit in the corner of the stall.

It was gunky and rancid. For such a tiny area, there was so much of it piled high. You mourned the complete loss of your trusty shoes as you practically slid over it to gather up more.

“You know, cow manure is actually something that we farmers just can’t get enough of,” Gabriel stands by what you deemed the shit-truck. “It helps us so much. Keeps those crops coming.”

“So why isn’t said Farmer One and Two shoveling it with me?”

Surprisingly, nothing splashes out with the way you bang your shovel against the truck bedding.

Miguel was off somewhere. Probably thinking you weren’t cut out for this.

“Oh honey, this is looking like the same shit I picked up yesterday morning. This truck hadn’t even hit the road yet. ”

You stick your shovel in the ground and cross your forearms over the handle. Gabriel looks at you apologetically, but the chuckle in him doesn’t stay contained.

Miguel was a jackass.

“The cows don’t even mess up where they sleep this bad no way,” he continued. “I was so busy getting your house ready and fixing up things for the rodeo, I was able to move this out the way for composting.”

There was a rodeo to prepare for and yet Miguel still found time to give useless, stinky, busy work.

Not only was he a jackass, he was a dickhead, too.

You get back to work, choosing to imagine that you were throwing manure across Miguel’s face rather than getting mad at the flies whose home you were destroying.

Gabriel stays. Whether it’s for moral support or to laugh at your agony, you’re not sure, but his commentary cools you down.

As the last school of gunk hits the large pile in the bed, you really think you could muster up enough energy to strangle your boss. You could barely see through to the front of the truck.

“Thank you kindly,” Gabriel taps the bunk. “I don’t really like Miguel’s methods of…”

“Hazing? Torture? Deceit?”

“…testing,” he finishes. “But, if anything, you showed me you’re willing and ready to work. It’s a lot more than this last, what, ten? Twelve or so ‘ranch hands’ have done in the first weeks.”

You relax a bit, “So, I’ve got the job?”

“Had it when you told Miguel off at the paddock.”

He pats your shoulder as he shuffles to the driver’s seat.

“Go rest up. We got a busy day tomorrow and you start to smell like you’re the one that dealt it whenever you deal with manure.”

Grimacing, you nod in agreement. Your blouse would be better off in a garbage chute at this point.

Gabriel hikes himself in the driver’s seat and yells out before he leaves.

“Be out here at 7 AM sharp tomorrow! Don’t be late or it’ll be worse things to do than this. Left you some dinner on the table and some food in the fridge. We’ll handle shopping later.”

The truck moves and you panic, watching the pile fall into itself. Gabriel is driving far too fast.

Once he becomes more of a pebble in the distance and the sun is starting to hide behind he trees, you take a sniff at your clothes and gag.

You’re not sure if the world's strongest detergent and chlorine gas could get the smell out, but you know that from today, you were going to either prove Miguel wrong or die trying not to kill him.

After a shower, a deep cleanse to your scalp, a refresh to your braids, and a face mask, you finally go to the kitchen to see what Gabriel left you.

Thank you for signing up for this job! I know it’s hard labor, but the beauty of the result and the countryside make it all worth it.

I knew you’d make a great addition to The Huntsman Farms from our emails and I was happy to see that my gut was right.

For your hard work:

Fresh hot tamales made by my wife!

There’s a steamer on the stove to heat them up, but in case you’re prone to fires like me, just pop em in the microwave.

Enjoy and see you bright and early tomorrow!

P.S. - There’s some lemonade in the fridge too!

“A wife?”

You were too busy gawking at his face, you didn’t even think to check his hand. Of course, a man like that would be tied down.

Sighing, you open the microwave and start to wrap two tamales in damp paper towels. Your eyes were heavy and you might actually start a fire somehow if you turned the stove on.

While your food heats up, you pour a glass of lemonade and take a sip. It’s not too sweet, not too tart, and probably fresh.

When everything was ready, you sat at the small dining room table and unwrapped the husk.

One bite had you scrunching your face in anger and flipping Gabriel’s letter, searching for a description.

Fragrant tomatillo and green peppers, chicken bursting with flavor, and it was only just one bite.

You think there was another with pork and red sauce calling your name.

“She can cook and she has a great man, how lucky.”

You catch some scribbles on the back of the notebook paper and you straighten it out.

Smiling at her princess greeting for you and her best attempt at spelling your name, you read her words.

Welcome to the farm! I hope we can play together soon!

And I’ll teach you how to ride a horse! You can ride my horse! Her name is Flora! Like the fairy!

And I like your hair! It’s so pretty!

♡ Gabriella ♡

You pout your lip taking in her sweet message. Such a darling came from Miguel, a complete menace.

A tall, dark, and handsome one, sure. And strong. Hefty. It all falls through once your brain registers his words and not his drawl. He’s rude as all get out with the attitude of a donkey.

Despite that, as the night winds down and your head hits the pillow you wondered if you had made the right choice.

It was hot. It was stressful. It was far away from most things.

But, your thoughts kept running back to the little girl with wild hair and adorable smile.

For her, you think you’ll stay a while.

dividers by ⋆⋆⋆ saradika + rookthornesartistry 💚

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[sonicprim3d]

If they live, they live. If they die, they die.

Kinda too willing to kill sometimes.

Actively looking for a reason to kill.

[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

[another-random-paradise]

Can you do twst child fem reader who always accidentally calls the dorm leaders dad and clings onto them since they miss their dad and isn’t taking the whole separation thing well please??

Suddenly a father

I am so so sorry this took so long!! I do hope you enjoy it <3 I do have a character limit, so I just picked the ones I had an idea for!!

---------------------------------------------------------

Clingy child!reader calls them dad

Characters: Riddle, Vil, Idia

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: none that I can think of

Riddle

-To say Riddle was concerned when a magicless child suddenly appeared is an understatement, and when Crowley decided to let you live in the Ramshakle dorm, on it's own, aside from Grim, the concern doubled.

-So, he pulled some strings, and now you're staying in heartslabyul! 

-Riddle did act similar to a parental figure. He is rather strict, but certainly not as strict as his mother, and while he does try and teach you all the rules, and the consequences of breaking them, he is much more lenient with you. Ace is jealous

-Chances are, you get a tart for every 15 rules you memorize, or if you've been especially good, you'll get a small tart as a reward!

-Seeing like how much he's acting like a dad, that is what your yet to be fully developed brain perceived him as.

-So, you follow him everywhere, like a lost puppy. It confuses him a bit, but he doesn't stop you, as there isn't a rule forbidding you from doing so! Also, he worries about you whenever you leave his line of sight

-When he hears you call him dad for the first time, he's shocked, to say the least! He is still in college, he has yet to get a stable career, find a suitable partner, buy his own house, hE ISN'T READY TO BE A FATHER!! 

-He is frozen in shocked, leaving you to tuck on his sleeve with a questioning look, till Trey gently suggests that the sudden change must be very hard on you, and that Riddle is the closest thing you currently have to a father 

-It's a realization that hit him hard. Once the Realisation settles in, he doesn't correct you when you do- in fact, he now feels like it's his responsibility to take care of you now. Your parents aren't there, the Headmage isn't trustworthy, and he is the housewarden of the Dorm you're staying in! Plus, it's hard to seperate you from him, without upsetting you, so his fate is sealed anyway-

-Not much changes after, just that he is ever so slightly more caring 

Vil

-He was very shocked to see a child at the entrance ceremony, to say the least. 

-Immediately takes you under his wing, no questions asked. He doesn't know why, but something about you tugged on his heart strings

-you get your own room  at pomefiore, and the students of the Dorm take turns babysitting you- but Vil and rook is the first to volunteer if someone can't take care of you on their assigned day!

-Vil would take care of you everyday, but he's a busy man, he has movies to film, photo shoots to do, a dorm to run, ect... but he does try to be there 

-Has posted you on magicamp, but never your face! He'll only post your face once your old enough to decide and consent! Meanwhile his fans are going crazy, trying to figure out if your his little sibling/cousin or if their favourite star is a teen parent!

-You start to run to, and go with him whenever you can, and if he can't take you with him, you patiently wait till he returns, before practically jumping into his arms 

-He is brushing your hair, getting you ready for bed, when you call him dad. 

-he pauses for a moment, taking by shock, before simply continuing on. He knows he is to young to be a father, not to mention to busy. He knows that you most likely have parents waiting for you at home.. yet he can't bring himself to correct you, while you almost fall asleep as he continues brushing your hair. 

-He supposes that, until a way home for you has been found, he can take on a parently role for you

Idia

-He doesn't even realise you're there until the commotion starts, cause, you know, he isn't physically there. When he does, he doesn't know what to do, so he tries to avoid the situation. 

-But you don't let him, being far to fascinated by the floating Ipad, following him around.

-It gets to a point where Crowley decides that you'll stay at Ignihyde under his watch!.. Idia freezes in shock, he doesn't know how to take care of a child!

-At first you're completely under Ortho's control- Half the dorm can't even take care of themselves, and you expect them to take care of a child? Ortho's the only one there keeping you alive.

-Nonetheless, you keep running to Idia, you don't know why either, something about him just feels like home.

-At first the small, clingy you terrified him, but eventually he gets used to you. He lets you stay in his room when you want to and occasionally shares his snacks with you! 

-After you show an interest in Technology, he teaches you the basics, and lets you watch when he builds something! with proper safety regulations, of course! He is gonna end up turning you into an ipad kid

-It is during one of these lessons that you call him dad. He short-circuts, and Ortho has to catch the tool Idia was holding, before it smashes into the machine- 

-Even after Ortho analyses and explains the situation, he is still in a bit of shock with no idea what to do. He very quietly corrects you, but it's barely audible. Meanwhile Ortho is celebrating having a new family member!

-Every time you call him dad, he freezes up for a moment, before quietly correcting you, only to not be heard :) 

Very fun to write, but I’ll be honest, I’m not around children much, so I don’t really know how they act :,) once again, so sorry you had to wait around a month for this request ^^“

Feedback is welcome, just be nice!!

Hope you have a great day/night <3

[mister0ctopus]

Server Room (3)

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary:  Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right? Even if you can't help but feel something, like, help him?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series, Smut, Romance

Word Count: 3.7K

🐙 a/n: contains a flashback to jungkook's first day/week

🐙 Masterlist / AskMeeeee!

<- Part 1 <- Part 2

Whoever invented a five-day workweek deserves severe punishment.

You mean it.  

Even though you did absolutely nothing over the weekend—just slept, rewatched Love, Death & Robots, and rotted in bed—it was perfect.

How on earth that yesterday you were just eating ice cream straight from the tub, slouching on the couch, and now you're analyzing graphs?

You shake your head, letting out a sigh as you resign yourself to the fate of selling your soul to the corporation.

You’ve been typing and clicking away all morning, your laser focus burning holes in your screen. A new project for a VIP client needs to be completed by the end of the week, and if you win them over, it could open doors to even bigger opportunities.

You pinch your temples, feeling the pressure. This is huge. This week is going to be hectic.

Hours of drafting a detailed report have left a strain in your shoulders, a reminder that you're due for a quick stretch. You straighten your back and, out of the corner of your eye, catch a familiar figure strolling past your desk at an unhurried pace, colorful tattoos standing out like quiet acts of defiance against the pristine, orderly office walls.

The faint scent of clean laundry and vanilla lingers in the air, and you close your eyes momentarily, trying to savor whatever trace of it remains.

Jungkook likes vanilla. Noted.

Your heart starts cartwheels at the sudden realization of your thoughts. As memories of last Friday flood your mind—thoughts you had tried to drown over the weekend—it hits you.

Are you... crushing on Jungkook?

You groan at the thought distracting you, though you're not complaining—you need a distraction. This project is already draining you. There's still so much to do, and you feel like you're on borrowed time. Your eyes start to water, and you seriously need a break.

Deciding to take a quick coffee break, you head to the pantry. As you wait for your coffee to brew, you notice that all the mugs are stored neatly on the top shelf of the cabinet.

Perfect. Of course, they’re all the way up there.

You try tiptoeing to reach it, but it's too far back, and your right arm starts to strain. Wouldn't it be funny if Jungkook walked in right now to help? It would perfectly complete your cliché K-drama fantasies.

You waver, giggling softly to yourself, when suddenly, you feel a warm, firm presence behind you. An inked arm reaches past yours for the same cup you've been struggling to grab.

A familiar scent envelops you, and your body jerks slightly when the back of your head brushes against his chest.

And just like that, with such ease, he offered you the mug. But neither of you moved, both still rooted in place.

You stayed like that for a good four seconds, though it felt like forever.

You glance to both sides, hesitantly searching for an exit as your heart does a herkie. Before you know it, he steps aside, allowing a large space for you to turn around and face him.

"Uh… thanks!” you say quickly, hiding your nerves behind a smile, but your ears betray you. You feel them warm up as Jungkook tucks both hands into his pockets. But before he does, you catch a glimpse of the growing bulge in his gray slacks.

Lord, grant this child of yours with mercy, strength, and grace, for the journey they face is no small feat.

Thankfully, you hear the coffee machine finish brewing, and you quickly turn to pour your coffee. Jungkook heads to the water dispenser, and the two of you move in silence.

Except it’s not quiet. It is loud.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, after a while, his voice low, but soft as he waited for the water to fill.

You turned your head toward him, stirring your coffee. “I’m good! Thank you.”

“Hmmm." He nodded. “How was your weekend?”

“It was good! Just rested and stuff. You?” You smiled, while your heart was doing somersaults.

He smiled back—that smile, the one that made his tiny dimples pop. “Yeah, good. Nothing too crazy, just… chores, stuff.” He said, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the floor.

Cute.

As if on cue, you both started walking back to your desks. The walk was quiet, but you could feel his shoulders brush against yours every now and then. Before you could even form a whole cheerleading routine inside your heart, you reached your desk and gave him a polite nod before sitting down.

You typed bdhjhfjjketwrjnkngkngn on your computer all the while watching his back in your peripherals.

You see you phone lights up. You swipe to open your group chat.

Jimin: break? Tae: let me circle back to you Jimin: stfu Allie: lets goooo! I need to pee! You: cant! i have a deadline! 😩 Jimin: ☹️ Tae: u suck Tae: we'll get u snacks You: yaaayyyy Yoongi: Seen

Tae was true to his word. They really did bring you snacks. It made you feel better, fueling you with the energy you needed to type away like a maniac until 6 pm. It’s a little later than usual, but you hadn’t even noticed the time.

Spent and drained, you closed your laptop and gathered your things. There’s still a lot to do, but at least you managed to finish 20% of it today. That’s a good start, right?

The floor is quiet. Most people, except for a few chasing deadlines, have already gone home. You can’t wait to join them.

You make your way to the elevator, your brain starting to shut down, with your one last remaining brain cell holding it together, doing its hardest to get you home safely.

You don’t normally bring your car to work unless you’re in the mood to walk. The parking lot assigned to you is too far from the building—very inconvenient, but the spots are randomly assigned. So, you usually take a cab to be dropped off right at the entrance.

You press your manicured nails to your temples, trying to massage away the stress of the day.

When you see an empty elevator, you quickly hop in. But as the doors begin to close, a hand slips between them, halting their motion. You widen your eyes, not expecting to see Jungkook here this late.

"Sorry. Thanks!" he says, catching his breath. He obviously ran to catch this elevator—but why would he, when there are six in the building?

"Hey. It’s late,” you say, stating the obvious, trying to fill the silence in the small space. “Overtime?” After all, 45 floors could take a little while.

“You could say that,” he replies, a small smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes meet yours. You feel your skin warm up. “You? Overtime?” he asks back, turning his gaze back to the elevator buttons.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You smile as you lean against the elevator rail.

He chuckles—a low, amused sound—while absentmindedly playing with his lip ring.

You focus your gaze on the numbers ahead as they light up with each floor you pass.

On the 20th floor, a usually busy one since it’s an event space, the elevator opens to the sound of commotion. You see uniformed kitchen staff and waiters scrambling about. The elevator quickly fills with them, and others try to squeeze in, stepping out only when the elevator beeps with the overload warning.

You begin to panic.

You attempt to move to the corner, but bump into someone. Trying to adjust, you move to the other side—only to bump into Jungkook. You glance at each other, his face is unreadable, but his brows are slightly furrowed. The chatter grows louder, and you can feel the frantic energy in the air.

Your heartbeat quickens, and the voices around you fill your ears like a huge swell of waves.

No please, not here. Not now.

You close your eyes, attempting to minimize your overwhelming senses. Then, as if the universe heard your silent plea, you feel a warm, gentle hand on your back, softly patting you. You sigh in relief, as the space around you slowly seems to expand, your focus shifting entirely to the touch.

Jungkook seems to take your response as permission, his hand resting more securely now as he moves it in a steady, soothing rhythm. You focus on the gentle motion, counting down from 10 to 1, drawing in slow breaths through your nose and releasing them softly through your mouth.

When you hear the ding, you feel the nerves finally release as people begin spilling out of the enclosed space.

Jungkook’s hand lingers on your back, it stops moving, but it remains firm and comforting.

With a wave of relief and gratitude, you tug on his shirt and lean into his chest. There is a slight space between you, but your forehead rests against him, seeking refuge.

And slowly, his arms wrap around your shaky frame, and you breathe in his warmth. Then, you let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension that could’ve spiraled into something worse.

You stay like that for what feels like four seconds, but it seems to stretch into forever, before stepping off the lift.

"Are you driving?" he asked as you both walked towards the exit of the huge building.

You shake your head. "I usually take a cab instead."

“Let me drive you home," he offered softly, but his voice is firm.

You take a small step back and lift your head to him, though your hand still clings to the hem of his shirt. "No, you’ve already done so much. I don’t even know how you always manage to find me in these… situations. I’m sorry. And thank you,” you say as you pull away.

"It’s okay. I want to,” he speaks gently, his gaze shifting to your hand still holding onto his shirt.

You realize what you're doing and quickly drop your hand, letting go of his shirt, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry," is all you can whisper.

You hate feeling like a burden. You take pride in having your shit together, and the thought of others feeling sorry for you only makes it worse. Right now, you feel small and helpless. The attacks have been happening more frequently, and you can’t help but connect them to the mounting stress at work.

Jungkook sighs, looking at you while nibbling the bottom of his lip, as if he's trying to hold back the words he wants to say, but doesn't.

"YN, I don't want to overstep, and I have a feeling that you might feel like you're burdening me, but you're not. I want to help you, right now, by driving you home. Please, just… let me. It’s just driving you home. It's no big deal."

You blink.

Wow, that was the longest sentence you’ve ever heard from Jungkook. You looked at him, and you couldn’t help it. A burst of laughter escaped from you.

He looked at you with amusement, cocking his head, eyebrows furrowed. "You laughing?"

“No,” you tried to say, choking on another laugh. “It’s just… that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say to me.”

His smile turns into a grin, and you catch him biting his bottom lip, like he’s trying to suppress a bigger smile. "You’re enjoying this, huh?"

"So much," you say between bursts of laughter, your stomach starting to ache. "You should talk to me more. This is gold.”

He raises an eyebrow, a lopsided grin at his lips. “So you could laugh?”

"Well, yeah." you reply, catching your breathe.

"You can’t handle me chatty." He shakes his head, not leaving his gaze on you

"Are you kidding? You'd be cute!” you say while wiping your teary eyes.

“Cute, huh” he said, his eyes still locked on yours, nibbling the silver ring on his lip.

You tilt your head, trying to read his face. There is mischief in his eyes, yet his lips remain pressed, guarding whatever thoughts lie behind them... What is he thinking right now?

"Let's drive you home. I know you’ve been tired," he interrupts your thoughts, sensing your visible curiosity. His voice is soft, but why does it feels like there’s no room for you to argue?

You followed him to his car, parked conveniently close to the building.

It feels oddly familiar now, as if you’ve been doing this for a long time. As if you’ve sat in this car together before, and he knows the way to your house like the back of his hand. As if each turn as natural to him as breathing. The car ride is calm—the hum of the engine, the distant noise of the world outside, the soft song on the radio…

“Take my heaven 'Cause you ain't inside it If that's your delight Come ruin my vibe…”

“Here’s your desk,” Yoongi said, motioning toward the chaotic workstation. “The guy you’re replacing was a huge Marvel fan—thus, the Wanda and Black Widow posters. You can take it down unless, of course, you fuck with it.”

Jungkook leaned in, tilting his head like he was analyzing priceless art. “I mean… Black Widow does have a chokehold on me.”

Yoongi snorted. “Of course. I already toured you around, pointed out the important stuff—and oh, you still need your logins. I’ll handle that,” Yoongi said, talking more to himself, like he was ticking boxes off a mental checklist.

It was Jungkook’s first day, and the only reason he even applied was because Yoongi casually dangled the words "better pay" and "more vacation days" in front of him, making him hand in his two-week notice without a second thought. Yoongi and Jin had been friends with Jungkook’s older brother since college, so as the youngest, he’d been dragged into their chaos since he was a kid. Fishing trips, sleepovers, summer vacations...

“Oh yeah,” Yoongi added. “I also need to give you the passcode to the server room. Can’t have you locked out.”

Jungkook nodded solemnly. “Got it. Server room. Sacred ground. No funny business. Unless…” He leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s snacks in there?”

Yoongi blinked. “Did you lie on your resume? Those are racks, not vending machines. So no, no snacks in the server room.”

“Missed opportunity,” Jungkook said, sighing. “But hey, so far, I like it here. Cool place, cool people, chill boss—wait. Do I call you boss now?”

“Try daddy and buy me lunch every day,” Yoongi replied, his signature lopsided grin making an appearance.

Jungkook dramatically furrowed his brows. “You have a daddy kink?!”

“Depends on the lunch,” Yoongi deadpanned, not even glancing up.

“Creep. I’m telling Joon.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Yoongi shrugged, picking up a ringing phone. “Your brother has a daddy kink too.”

Jungkook choked on air. “What the fuck, hyung?! I’m traumatized!”

Yoongi ignored him, calmly taking the call and nodding a few times before hanging up. He turned back to Jungkook, completely unfazed. “Now, for your first ticket— a jammed printer.”

“A printer? A jammed printer?” Jungkook groaned, swirling on the chair. “Wow. I’m really living the IT dream here.”

Yoongi stared at him for a long moment. “Was that your big ‘I can’t wait to be an asset to the company’ speech from the interview?”

Jungkook snickered, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Relax, hyung. I’m here to work hard and make you proud.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Hard? You’ve been here twenty minutes, and your biggest accomplishment is discovering the chair spins.”

“It spins really well, though,” Jungkook said, giving it another whirl.

"Printer. Fix. Now..." Yoongi muttered, still unfazed, typing away on his computer.

“Okay, time to turn it off and on,” Jungkook said, standing up with a mock sigh. “I swear, you just hired me to boss around.”

Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “Welcome to the team, kid.”

Black stiletto heels and stockings—that was the first thing Jungkook noticed when he saw you while fixing that damn printer.

The way they clung to your legs… Jesus. His thoughts immediately derailed.

You were wearing a blue-striped collared shirt, a couple of buttons undone, paired with a high-waisted black mini skirt that seemed to look better on his bed.

He just stood there, staring like an idiot, mouth agape, helpless.

You were lost in your own world, typing away on your laptop, and it was strange how captivating it was—the way your brow furrowed in concentration, how you nibbled on your lips like your thoughts were more important than anything else.

Every now and then, he caught a faint hum escaping your lips, like a quiet melody only you knew, a way to soothe yourself while the world spun around you.

The world could be burning around you—people spilling coffee, slamming their desks in frustration—but you were completely untouched, locked in your own zone. Your eyes were fixed on your laptop, brows furrowed in concentration, as if the entire universe revolved around whatever you were typing.

You looked so beautiful.

And the men? Yeah, he saw them too.

The glances they exchanged when you passed. Jungkook could spot them—those quiet, knowing looks shared between them. Their gazes lingering a little too long when you passed, the subtle shifts in their posture. Jungkook knew exactly what those looks meant.

But you were oblivious. You walked like you owned the place. Or like you had somewhere important to be.

Or maybe you knew. You just didn’t care to entertain any of them.

You carried yourself with calm confidence. The space around you was always yours, and everyone knew it. It made people hesitate to cross, like they knew better than to fuck around, because they’d already found out.

Then, in one of those hectic days, a few minutes after work, he saw you through the glass door, standing in front of the elevator. Every time it opened, you'd check inside, but never step in. Instead, you lingered there, taking your time, waiting…

But for what? Or who?

Jungkook couldn’t help but watch, curious. What was it?

Did you not want to be around anyone? Are you avoiding people?

Either way, he watched you for a solid 20 minutes, trying to figure you out.

The next day, he found himself next to you again while fixing some cables.

And there you were—black turtleneck, gray A-line skirt…black stockings and stilettos—of course.

And dark red lipstick—fuck.

God, those fingers. Those delicate, red nails gliding over the keys…

Shut up, Jungkook. You should focus on…you should focus on...

But he couldn’t focus, could he? How could he, when you were right beside him, completely lost in your own world, while he was fighting for his dear life?

Lord... just lead me to temptation, I’m halfway there anyway.

For more than a week now, you’ve been doing this to him.

Every time he closes his eyes, you’re there—on your knees, your delicate hands wrapped firmly around his cock, your lips smudged and slick as they stretch around him.

Your mascara runs in streaks down your cheeks, your eyes watering but still locked on his with that same sharp focus that drives him insane.

Or it’s his face between your legs, your wet folds clenching around his tongue, clawing for him, writhing helplessly, utterly drunk on lust. He’d give you the world and more.

Every time, the same thought crosses his mind: How do you sound when you moan?

Are you loud and unabashed, or do you bite back your cries, leaving him desperate to drag them out of you? The thought alone makes him groan like a tortured man.

Because torture—that’s it. That’s the word. That’s exactly what the past week has felt like.

Torture to contain the thirst, the hunger, the need. And every night, he finds himself completely at your mercy—with his eyes closed and fist around his cock.

That’s been his hell for over a week now.

Then, without warning, you—the object of his desire and the reason for his torment—appear right in front of him, asking for his help with those piercing eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. His brain short-circuits.

As he takes your laptop from you, his gaze briefly flickers to the poster of Black Widow on his wall, his silent, nonjudgmental protector.

Black Widow, patroness of the weak and frail, deliver me from this powerful force—for the adversary is beyond my strength to overcome.

He’s already figured out what’s wrong with your laptop, but your presence fills his senses, muddling his thoughts.

He can’t stand you watching him, observing his every move. It’s unbearable, as if you’re silently chastising him.

“I’ll try my best. You can come back later before you head home,” he tried to sound calm, keeping his back turned to you.

For the next few hours, he drowns himself in distractions—in prayers and IT tickets.

But it seems he cannot escape hell unless he seeks absolution.

Yet, there is no absolution without confession. So, he searches for a place of penance but finds only the cold, dark depths of the server room.

Amid the hum of machines and the sterile air, he calls out in a silent, desperate plea:

“Please, please, please…”

His heart slams against his chest, each beat resounding louder as your name falls from his lips, over and over. Each syllable becomes a tremor, each word a prayer offered from a soul teetering on the edge of redemption.

Sweat rolls down his forehead, falling like droplets of guilt onto his sinful fist and punishing hand.

Just as he’s on the verge of liberation, his eyes catch the sight of your black stockings clinging to your legs, stiletto heels gleaming like unholy beacons in the dim light. It’s as though you’re waiting for him to hear his confession only so he can sin again.

Like a demon lurking in the shadows, waiting to feast upon him again.

With a shaking breath and furrowed brows, he finally breaks, spilling out every ounce of the sin within him.

Yet he remains in hell.

🐙 a/n: sooo...how are we? 🫠 thank you so much for being here, i appreciate all of you 😘 please let me know whatchuthink of the story so far. i love each and every interactions with you 🥹 thanks again for reading and i love you aaaaaalllll ❤️

🐙 if you have questions or asks, let me know in the comments or send me an ask!

Taglist: @taekritimin123, @vantelover1306, @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @almatiarau, @kxthx-b, @lively-potter, @jk-190811, @ilovejungkook9999, @goldietigers294, @dreamyluna18, @va1-erie, @snow-strawberry, @lovieku, @daskewl @jksusawife @daskewl @pp0810

🐙 Let me know in the comments if you want to be added! 😘

[a1ecmcdowell]

bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!

includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho

★ ˚⋆

times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.

he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.

it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.

until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.

he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.

he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.

one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-

the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.

you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"

"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."

dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.

he sighs. they can't all be winners.

you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.

fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"

"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."

her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.

"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"

dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.

"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"

he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.

no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.

but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.

dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."

your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"

"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"

that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."

"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."

you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.

"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."

"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."

dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."

"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."

"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"

"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."

dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"

"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."

"that mean you wanna use me?"

this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.

"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."

"dean."

your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."

the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"

one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."

notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind

tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas

(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible. 

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

[f0rlorn]

when he sees me → logan howlett

logan howlett (x-men) x female!reader

notes → in which jean and ororo set you up on a blind date with a wolverine. in honor of deadpool and wolverine throwing me back into my x-men phase full force, i nabbed this from my wattpad. fair warning, it was written in 2021.

i stick with real things, usually facts and figures. when information's in its place i minimize the guessing game. guess what? i don't like guessing games.

you had always been a logical person. opting to plan things out rather than diving right in, so when jean offered to set you up on a blind date, you were hesitant to say yes. you always needed to know when and where things would be going down, and most importantly who would be there with you. this blind date contradicted most, if not all of your morals.

or when i feel things before i know the feelings. how am i supposed to operate when i'm tossed around by fate? like on an unexpected date! with a stranger who might talk too fast. or ask me questions about myself before i've decided that he can ask me questions about myself. he might sit too close! or call the waiter by his first name. or eat oreos but eat the cookie before the cream! but what scares me the most... what scares my the most...

it was clear that you were anxious about this, you were waving your hands around like a maniac, ranting to jean about things that didn't even make sense. "y/n, could you stop moving? i really need to finish up on your hair." jean pleaded, struggling to style your hair. you sighed and slouched in your chair, fiddling your thumbs.

"...what if he hates me?"

what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it? what if he runs the other way and i can't hide from it? what happens then? if when he knows me, he's only disappointed? what if i give myself away to only get it given back? i couldn't live with that!

jean turned your chair around so that she could look you in the eyes. "you are a smart and talented girl, y/n. any guy would be lucky to have you. if logan can't see that than he's just stupid." her comment was reassuring. it calmed you down, yes. but you still couldn't stop the nervousness bubbling within you.

"now go get dressed, storm is in the other room picking out an outfit for you." you thanked her and walked out of the bathroom, into your bedroom, where storm was rummaging through a pile of laundry. she smiled and pulled out a blouse for you to wear. she turned towards you and tossed you the shirt.

"the rest is on the bed. i need to go grab one last thing from my room and then you'll be ready to go!" she cheered, excited for you. you had never been much for dating. the few folks you did bring back turned out to be a bunch of douche bags, or had been scared off by some of the other mutants. when jean proposed the idea to the team, they were even more excited than you.

  you pulled off the top you were wearing and threw it in the corner of your room. you took the blouse that ororo gave you and put it on. next you put on the skirt and tucked your shirt into it. storm returned from her room with the item she retrieved. it was a gorgeous necklace with a gold chain and a jewel hanging around it. storm clasped it around your neck. "jean, c'mere!" ororo called for jean to come and see the new and improved you.

  "you look absolutely stunning!" jean praised, her hands on her hips. "let's head on downstairs, we still got some time before we need to get you out the door." jean led the three of you into the kitchen, you starting pacing the room as they sat down at the kitchen island.

  "do i have to do this?" you whined, not at all prepared for what was soon to come.

"there's no point in backing out now! it took me almost an hour to get you ready, you will be going to this date." jean said.                           

"why did i agree to this? i'm perfectly fine here! i'm surrounded with the people i love, i have my dream job... i don't see why i need a new guy in my life. and if life taught me anything, it's that men are garbage." you reasoned, trying to find an excuse not to go.

so i'm just fine inside my shell-shaped mind! this way i get the best view. so that when he sees me, i want him too...

  you were deep in thought, making a list in your head of the pros and cons of going on this date. the truth is, you were actually quite lonely here, and your friends were starting to notice.

   don't you think you're bein' a little, i mean, just a tad-

  ororo started before you cut her off.

  i'm not defensive! i'm simply being cautious. i can't risk reckless dating due to my miscalculating. while a certain suitor stands in line. i've seen in movies, most made for television, you cannot be too careful when it comes to sharing your life. i could end up a miserable wife!

  jean and ororo both gave each other a look. you continued on about how he could be some sort of criminal of psychopath. jean sighed and looked at her watch.

  "y/n, we gotta get going" they got up and ushered you to the car. ororo and jean got in the front seat of ororo's car, and you sat in the back. the entire car ride was filled with you going on and on, with 'what if's' and 'could be's'. there wasn't a single moment where you weren't complaining. jean was starting to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. when you finally arrived at your destination, the three of you got out of the car. they pointed in the direction of the infamous wolverine, pushing you his way. he leaned against his car, lighting a cigar. you walked up to him, a little intimidated.

  "you're logan, yea?" you asked shyly, not really knowing what to do or say.

  "that's me, i'm assuming that makes you y/n." he replied. you nodded awkwardly.

  "shall we head in then?" he asked, looking down at you with raised eyebrows.

"yes, yes we shall." you answered, smiling slightly.

[asimpforthe80s]

Closeted

Starring: Fred Weasley x Y/N

Warnings: somewhat public sex. Sex in a closet. Teasing. Basically just porn with little plot.

Summary: you try to pull a prank, almost get caught, get trapped in a closet, Fred gets hard as you sit on his lap, you're oblivious for an annoyingly long time, when you realize, you start fucking.

—————————————

Fred Weasley is your roommate and the two decided to piss off the principal by breaking the rules, but it didn't work out so you two went into a closet to hide,and after the director left, the door jammed!

So you decided to stay there until someone showed up to help, meanwhile you sat on his lap to save space, but it wasn't very comfortable,so you were squirming to get comfortable, when he suddenly let out a groan. "Stop moving!" He whisper-yelled. You rolled your eyes. "Well, move your bloody wand then!" You said, not knowing that his 'wand' wasn't his wand, but it was his rock hard cock.

Fred groans louder, hands gripping your hips as he tries to still your movements. "Blimey, watch it! I'm trying to keep us hidden here, remember? Don't want Madam Pince or anyone else stumbling upon us..." He mutters under his breath, face flushing red with embarrassment and arousal. "And maybe try to be a bit more gentle, yeah? That's not exactly helping the situation..." His voice trails off as Y/N continues to shift around on top of him, inadvertently rubbing against his sensitive area. You groaned. "It'd be worse if McGonagall.." You chuckled, even though you squirmed a bit more. "For hells sake, move your bloody wand if you want me to stop fuckin moving..!" You mumbled, still a bit oblivious.

Fred bites back a moan as Y/N's words hit a little too close to home, his face burning hotter than ever. "Bloody hell, listen to yourself! You're going to give me away at this rate..." He manages to gasp out, attempting to regain some composure. "Look, just... sit still for a minute, alright? Let me think..."

His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in slightly as he struggles to focus past the intense sensations coursing through him. "And for Merlin's sake, stop calling it a wand! It's not like I've got a magic cock or anything..." Despite the desperate attempt at humor, his voice wavers, revealing the growing strain of desire. "Oh, for crying out loud..." You finally stopped moving, realizing how much you were disturbing Fred. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Sorry," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty. "I just can't seem to find a comfy spot." You shifted slightly, sitting more properly on his lap now. "How about we just wait quietly until someone comes to let us out?" You suggested, hoping that would help pass the time without things escalating further. Fred takes a shaky breath, trying to relax as Y/N settles more comfortably on his lap. "Yeah, that's probably for the best," he agrees, his voice still a bit rough from suppressed need. "Just gotta chill and hope no one decides to do an impromptu sweep of the storage closets..."

He rubs his hands soothingly along your sides, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing to calm his racing heart. After a moment, he lets out a soft chuckle. "You know, this is kind of surreal. The last thing I expected when I agreed to pull this prank was to end up stuck in a closet with you, practically on my lap."

There's a hint of playful teasing in his tone, but also a genuine note of wonder, as if he's still processing the unexpected turn of events. You smiled, finding Fred's comment amusing despite the awkwardness of their situation. "Well, at least we're in this together," you replied, leaning back against his chest. "Could be worse, right?"

You glanced over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze with a mischievous grin. "Who knows, maybe this is fate's way of telling us we should be roommates forever. Or at least until we figure out how to get out of here."

Your words were light-hearted, but there was a subtle undercurrent of intimacy, born from the closeness and shared predicament. The warmth of Fred's body behind you, the solid feel of his thighs beneath yours, all contributed to a sense of togetherness that felt strangely comforting, despite the circumstances. Fred's lips twitch into a smile at your teasing remark, a spark of amusement igniting in his emerald eyes. "Roommates forever, huh? Sounds like a recipe for disaster, if you ask me," he quips back, but there's a playful lilt to his voice that belies any real concern.

As you lean back against him, Fred's arms wrap around your waist, holding you securely against his chest. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your hair and the musky undertones of their confined space. There's a strange comfort in the physical contact, a sense of belonging that he doesn't quite understand, given the circumstances.

"I suppose fate could have chosen worse ways to bring us together," he muses, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck. "At least we're not alone in this mess." You relaxed into Fred's embrace, enjoying the warmth and security of being held by him. "True that," you agreed, tilting your head slightly to the side to allow his breath to caress your skin more fully. "And who knows, maybe this is the start of something big."

You turned in his arms, facing him directly, and met his gaze with a sly smile. "Or maybe we'll just get out of here, go our separate ways, and never speak of this again."

The thought sent a tiny pang through you, but you quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the present moment. "Either way, I'm glad it's you I'm stuck with," you confessed softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a vulnerability in your words, a hint of sincerity that you rarely allowed to show. Fred's expression softens at your whispered confession, a look of tender surprise crossing his features. For a moment, he simply gazes at you, his green eyes searching and vulnerable in return.

"Me too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. "I mean, I never thought I'd say this, but... I'm actually kind of glad we got caught."

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and intimate. "Stuck in here with you, I mean. It's... different. Nice, even."

Fred leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Maybe we should make the most of it," he suggests, his breath mingling with yours. "See where this unexpected adventure takes us." Your heart raced as Fred's lips drew near, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine. When he spoke those words, suggesting they make the most of their situation, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of trepidation.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and longing reflected back at you. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, exploratory kiss.

As the initial spark of contact faded, you pulled back slightly, gazing at Fred with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "This okay?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat. Fred's eyes flutter open, meeting yours with a dazed, half-lidded gaze. For a long moment, he simply stares at you, the only sound the heavy beating of his own heart echoing in his ears.

Then, with a soft exhale, he nods slowly. "More than okay," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "Really, really good."

He leans in again, capturing your lips in a deeper, more urgent kiss. This time, there's no hesitation, no uncertainty - only a fierce hunger that consumes them both.

Fred's hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as he explores the contours of your mouth with increasing passion. The taste of you, the feel of your lips moving against his, it's intoxicating, driving him wild with desire. As Fred's kisses intensified, you found yourself getting lost in the sensation, your mind fogging with lust and a growing need for more. His hands on your hips, gripping you tightly, only fueled the fire within you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as you returned the fervor of his kisses, your tongue dancing with his in a sensual duel. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the weight of your mutual arousal.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, you gazed up at Fred, your eyes dark with want. "Wish we could go to some sort of bedroom," you breathed out, your voice ragged with need. Fred groans at your breathy words, the ache between his legs becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. "Amen to that," he grunts, his hips bucking involuntarily against yours.

But even as the desire threatens to consume him entirely, a flicker of reason surfaces. With great effort, he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

"We should slow down," he suggests, though the reluctance in his voice makes it clear that's the last thing he wants to do. "Don't want to rush into anything we might regret later."

Despite the wisdom of his words, Fred's hands continue to roam your curves, tracing the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. It's torture, having you so close yet maintaining control, but he knows it's necessary. "I.. I- I have condoms.." you whispered nervously, your head cloudy with arousal. "You know.. sex in weird places has been on my mind for a while.. closets are weird places for that... hm?.." you said. Fred's eyes widen at your revelation, a mix of surprise and excitement flashing across his face. "Condoms, eh?" he repeats, his voice low and husky. "Guess that settles it then."

With a swift movement, he scoops you up into his arms, gently slamming you against one of the walls of the closet, pinning you there with his body. "Let's take advantage of this opportunity, shall we?" he teases.

His hands begin to work on removing his clothes, revealing his toned physique inch by inch. "I've always had a bit of a thing for public displays of affection," he admits, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But this might just top them all." "Mmmh.. I've wanted you for so long..." You moaned softly, looking up at Fred with hooded eyes filled with lust. Your hands began exploring his exposed torso, tracing the lines of his muscles and marveling at the heat emanating from his skin.

Slowly, teasingly, you began to remove your own clothing, baring yourself to his hungry gaze. "I've imagined this so many times," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "You and me, finally giving in to what we both want."

Your hand trails down between your bodies, cupping the bulge in his boxers and giving it a firm squeeze. "What do you say, Fred?" You purr seductively. "Ready to make this fantasy a reality?" A guttural growl rumbles in Fred's chest as your hand wraps around his straining erection. "Fuck, yes," he hisses, his hips jerking reflexively into your touch. "I've fantasized about this too, more times than I can count."

In a blur of motion, he tears off the remainder of his clothes, leaving him naked and aching with desire. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.

Breaking away, he reaches for the condom packet you mentioned earlier, ripping it open with his teeth. "I want to be inside you so badly," he groans, rolling the latex over his throbbing length. "Want to feel you wrap around me, tight and hot."

"Oh god, Fred..." You whimpered, feeling the coolness of the condom enveloping his hard cock. Your own arousal was evident, slickening your thighs and making your folds quiver with anticipation.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer as you positioned him at your entrance. "Please, I need you," you begged, your hips rocking upwards in silent plea. "Make love to me, right here, right now..."

With a final, desperate thrust, Fred buried himself to the hilt inside you, a loud gasp escaping both your mouths at the intense pleasure-pain of being joined so intimately. You clung to each other, panting heavily as you savored the feeling of fullness of completion. "Bloody hell, you feel amazing," Fred pants, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as your slick heat engulfs him completely. He pauses for a moment, savoring the exquisite sensation before starting to move.

Slowly at first, he rocks his hips, building a steady rhythm that gradually increases in intensity. Each thrust is deliberate, purposeful, designed to bring maximum pleasure to you both.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "To be fucked senseless in a cramped closet, where anyone could walk in and see us?"

The idea sends a thrill through him, adding an extra edge of excitement to their forbidden tryst. He pounds into you harder, faster, driven by a primal need to claim you, to make you his. "Yes..! Oh god... yes..!" You cry out, not caring who might hear your wanton moans. The risk of discovery only heightens the pleasure, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Your nails dig into Fred's shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as you cling to him desperately. Your hips rise to meet his, matching his frenzied pace, craving more of that delicious friction.

"I'm so close," you gasp, your inner walls beginning to flutter around his pistoning length. "Don't stop.. fuck, please don't stop..!"

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your screams of pleasure against his sweat-slicked skin as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. The feeling of your walls clamping down around him, pulsing with the force of your climax, proves to be Fred's undoing. With a hoarse shout, he buries himself deep inside you one final time, his release erupting in powerful spurts.

He holds you close as you both ride out the aftershocks of your shared passion, his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage. Slowly, he lowers you back onto shaky feet, his softening member slipping out of you with a wet sound.

"Blimey," he whispers, his voice rough and sated. "That was... incredible." He brushes a tender kiss against your temple, a gesture that seems out of character for the usually brash and mischievous Fred.

As the haze of lust begins to clear, a sudden realization hits him. Fred looks at you, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion he rarely allows himself to show. His hands reach out, hesitating briefly before they come to rest gently on your hips.

"You're something special, you know that?" he murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The taste of you still lingers on his tongue, sweet and intoxicating.

"But don't go thinking this changes anything," he adds quickly, pulling back to give you a playful nudge. "We're still the same old Fred and Y/N. Just... maybe a little less reckless, yeah?"

With a wink, he steps back, reaching for his discarded clothes to start getting dressed once again. The moment of vulnerability seemingly forgotten as he falls back into his usual confident demeanor. You blush deeply, nodding in agreement. "Yeah...reckless isn't really our style anyway." Smiling shyly, you help gather the scattered clothes. "So...same time tomorrow?" You giggle sheepishly.

You lean in to steal a quick peck on Fred's cheek before darting out of the closet, leaving him to finish dressing in peace. Fred chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he watches you scurry away. "Same time tomorrow, then," he agrees, already looking forward to their next illicit encounter.

Once he's fully dressed, he takes a moment to collect himself, straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair. The closet door swings shut behind him as he exits, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

As he makes his way back to the Gryffindor common room, Fred can't help but feel a newfound appreciation for the thrill of sneaking around, of indulging in forbidden desires. And with Y/N by his side, he knows they'll always find a way to keep things exciting - even if it means risking a few detentions along the way.

[jaytalking]

Spoilers for the fop: a new wish ending.

TW for vague-ish allusions to child abuse/neglect

(I've never written for Tumblr before. Go easy on me.)

----

His interrogator is a child.

Timmy had started to think today was just not his day somewhere in between "coming home from vacation to an invaded Fairy World" and "Being captured by anti-fairies minutes away from the chip and tied to a chair with iron chains". Dale Dimmadone and fucking Foop (Irep. Oh who cares.) of all people being his captors had been the confirmation.

Now there's a child with sunglasses scowling at him, and he's just bracing himself for whatever this damn day throws at him next.

"Why didn't you talk?"

Timmy considers the question for about 5 seconds before deciding he doesn't care enough to weave a lie.

"Fairies can't break the rules, not directly. It applies to revealing secrets too, not my fault they couldn't figure it out."

"But you're not a fairy, the nets didn't work on you, only iron seems to have some kind of effect."

He gives the kid a wry smile. "Burning sting" was definitely An effect.

"Not that hard to figure out; once-human, means exactly what you think it means. So yeah, Maybe I just don't want to give that idiot answers, considered that?"

The kid gives him an angry look, Timmy just raises an eyebrow.

"Don't call my dad an idiot. Do you even know who he is? He seemed to know you, that's for sure."

"Did he ever tell you about a lemonade factory? I pulled him out of there, I knew THAT Dale. Whoever the golden-toothed asshole outside is he's not anyone I care to know, that's for sure."

The kid looks somehow angrier, Timmy continues undeterred.

"I do want to know your name at least, I'm getting tired of calling you "kid" in my head."

"You first."

"Smart. It's Timmy, Timmy T-... Fairywinkle-Cosma."

He's not surprised to feel a spark of recognition from the kid, the sunglasses hide his face but for the average fairy any emotion, especially a kid's, is as visible as ever. What he IS surprised to see is a curl of dread.

"Dev. Dev Dimmadone- why don't you just give up? We've got all the fairies under nets, the chip is gone so they can't do magic anyways, and you're in chains with no way to escape. Dad even offered you-"

"There's nothing he could offer that would make me give up on my family."

There's... a picture, that's starting to be painted in Timmy's mind, and he doesn't like one bit of it; Dev must be the kid Irep used to accomplish this plan, there's no other explanation for the kid being here and knowing so much about fairies otherwise. Dev is a Godkid. Dev is Peri's Godkid-

"What about letting your family go? Would that be enough?"

"... You don't know anything, do you?"

He might have put too much venom in those words by the way the kid visibly flinches and goes silent, but in that moment he doesn't care.

"Do you know what happens when a fairy doesn't grant wishes? Their magic begins to build up, bit by bit- it gets harder to breathe, to do anything without feeling absolutely horrible- and then they're gone, just like that. Without the Big Wand, without the ability to grant wishes, that's what awaits all of them- all of US. Your dad is a short-sighted idiot who doesn't realise I'm not exempt from this- so even if I did tell him how to become like me, he'd have the exact same fate. We'd both be dead and the Anti-fairies would have a grand ol' laugh about it."

"Irep-"

"Irep doesn't care about you. I don't give a damn what he told you, but it's obvious he kept you in the dark about basically all of this and now he's off to do the same to Dale. You need to accept you've been used, kid."

Dev is quiet, eyes fixed on the floor. Timmy's anger deflates slightly; the true mastermind here is Irep, he should reserve his anger for him, not for the kid he strung along.

"... He told me it would make him proud."

The question leaves his mouth before his mind can process it.

"Would that be enough? To justify all of this?"

Something has snapped, an echo of the ignored child who wished so badly his parents would pay more attention and was called selfish for it, who lashed out and wanted more, more, and more to fill a bottomless hole in his heart, felt vindicated when the truth was made evident: that love and attention is not a damn privilege, it's the right of any child.

"It wouldn't, and it wouldn't last for long. You know this, we both know this."

Dev is shaking. Timmy clams his mouth shut. He's shaking and his grip on the iron key is tight.

"There's no way they'll forgive me."

And he has to laugh at that, a short burst cut off by the pain of the chains moving and reaching new skin.

"That's the worst part- they always do. And before you even realise you're in the wrong."

[mx-your-name]

His Goddess

Possessive!Adam x Goddess!Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, Possessive Adam, nothing really about murder besides Adam’s dead and Sinners

Prompt: You are both of the goddess of Creation and Destruction

-It started off as you making a meeting of you and the rest of the gods and goddess about certain things that need to be taken care of and made a full balanced out scale so nothing could get destroyed or messed up.

-You were running a bit late since you had others to deal with.

-Your advisor who was the one to help out with your schedule had you do some stuff almost making you fully late to the meeting that you had set up.

“No! I told you! We need to act now! Heaven and Hell are going to destroy each other!” A female yelled. She was wearing a flowy white outfit, short white sleeves that stayed on her shoulder and across her chest making a big V shape. A cut on each side of the dress on each side of her legs so they could stick out. Some gold draped over her waist with a white blindfold over her eyes representing her covering her eyes so wouldn’t be able to cheat on the winning side. There was a scale on the table beside her where she could determine on what side to decide to choose from. A lion next to where she sits at the table. This was Themis the goddess of Justice and Law.

“I say they continue, it’s the only way to figure out the war! They need to sort this out themselves, we cannot interfere with anything or that’ll mess up everything that he built up! And they are to know nothing about our existence!” A male shouted back across the circular table from her. He was wearing mostly full armor and a helmet, he had a spear that slid into the chair arm rest that he sat on so he wouldn’t have to keep holding it. A red cape that fell behind him against his back. His shield that he always carried around next to him. There was mostly red and dark red on his clothes which represented the blood and violence. This was Ares the god of War and Courage

“Well we need to decide something or they'll be with each other and there won’t be anyone else any longer!” Themis responded back, her lion growling at the god of War. “I say that it goes on! They can decide their own damn fate with you determining what to happen with your stupid scale!” Ares remarked back, a tick appearing on his head as Themis gritted her teeth in anger. “Oh I can’t watch this! Why can't we all get along and love each other..” a male muttered to himself, he was wearing a white sash that goes over his body covering everything up. Giant white wings on his back that were against his back. This was Eros the god of Love and Desire, or as others call him Cupid.

Placing his fingers up his face pressing one against his mouth, as he glanced between the two who were fighting about the situation at hand. He sat beside the goddess of justice on the right side of her. A sigh comes from across Eros as he looks over to see a female that had a bird on her arm as she fed it. She was wearing a green draped dress that went down to her ankles, some green vines snaking around her head and on top of her head forming a flower crown that grew from the vines and bushes. This was Demeter the goddess of Nature and Fertility.

“What do you think about this matter, Demeter?” Eros asked, smiling a gentle closed smile. “I honestly don’t care about it unless it involves me, Eros. After all there’s really nothing we can do without interfering with what's happening between them both.” Demeter said, being fully honest about everything she stated. Eros felt his cheeks turn red, a bit admirable of the woman in front of him.

“Who cares what you think! I’m the god of War! And I say let it happen, how else did I solve my situation?” Ares slammed his hands on the table as he stood up glaring at Themis who also got up from her seat. “That doesn't mean anything! We need to stop it! And who cares about the war you’ve been through? You wanted to be in that war! And you know it!” Themis commented, anger written on her face.

Ares was going to resort back but was cut off by a loud voice enough in through the room. “That’s enough for both of you!” All attention went to you who was at the head of the table, Ares on your right and Themis on your left with Demeter next to Ares and Eros next to Themis. Both of them muttered sorry with a bow, immediately sitting back down after that.

You wore a long white and gold cloak that would almost reach the ground with a white looking dress that reached to the ground practically dragging against it. It wasn’t bigger than your height, instead it was made that way to shrink or grow depending on the height you wanted to go along with the same thing with the other gods and goddesses. Your black boots covered by the clothing, taking a seat as you started talking. You were the goddess of Creation and Destruction.

Everyone nodding their heads as they look at you, “Now let’s discuss what the situation is at hand. The heaven exterminators that have been killing sinners.” Glancing over at everyone then continuing on. “Does anyone have any ideas on what we should do about this at hand?” Questioning as you look towards Ares first letting him speak.

“I believe that we should just let them figure out their war against each other. If we intervene at all it could mess up everything and everyone would also find out about our existence which is supposed to stay a secret.” Ares explained knowing what might happen if you all stopped everything or tried to reveal yourselves. Nodding your head at the end of his words, “I see.. Themis? What do you have to say about this?”

“I think, sorry. I know that this is an incredibly stupid idea! If we don’t do anything then we are gonna have to keep reincarnating every single person that dies at the hand of the angels or they get completely wiped from this world of their existence! We’ve already had over 500 sinners dead since the last five extermination.” Themis went on, she was one to be level headed but at this point her patience was running thinner and thinner.

Letting out a hum as you quickly snapped your fingers making tea appear in front of everyone in the room. “Drink some tea and calm down Themis. You too Ares. Yelling isn’t gonna get anything done correctly.” You told them, Themis letting out a breath and drinking some of your tea as Ares just grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. “[Name], if I may speak up. I think we should be focused on those IMP’s right now. They’ve been destroying everything on Earth and killing people after people without a care in the world.”

Demeter spoke calmly, looking over at you as she pet her bird that sat on her finger. “Ah yes that was another problem I was going to discuss. Thank you for reminding me Demeter. Now about the IMP’s I think we should-” getting cut off by your words when a loud thud was heard at the other end of the room in front of the giant door. Everyone's head snaps towards the door, as the person who distrusted the meeting. You knew everyone would never intrude during the meetings especially even go near the room.

The person stood up grumbling looking around the room to see it was quite large, vines climbing up the walls to represent Nature, heart shaped lighting to represent Cupid, knight armor to represent War, scale alongside the walls to represent Justice, and nice interior design made from Creation. Getting a better look at the male face who looked at the five of you. Demeter eyes widened in surprise, Ares sprinting out his drink on accident eyes wide, Themis jaw was on the floor at who the male was, and Eros was freaking out.

You on the other hand were also surprised but shocked on how this could’ve happened. “Is… is that..?” Eros started, pointing his finger at the male who was shocked at your guy's height being even taller than him. “Who the fuck are you guys?” You recognized that look, clearing your throat as you softly smiled. “Welcome, Adam. Though I must ask what are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be up..here.”

You spoke smoothly, staring down at him with your eyes peering at him. “Oh I don’t know. I got fucking stabbed and killed! Where the hell am I?” He said sarcastically, everyone was whispering to themselves on what to do since no one besides them and their workers are supposed to be up high on these levels. Not even Sera was allowed up here. “Well if you must know you’re in the Tower of Heaven, Adam. Or as other people know it is the highest power that’s above where Gods stay and observe both heaven and hell.”

You explained guestering to the gods and goddess that sit at the table in front of him. Getting up from your seat as you go over to where Adam was three times divided by your height. Sitting down on your knees, scooping him up into your hands lifting him up to your eye level. Adam took a step back from how tall you and the others loomed over him.

“I sincerely apologize. I wasn’t expecting how this is how our first encounter would go. Especially when meeting you, Adam.” You apologized, smiling gently at him. “Uh-huh.. so this place is what? A fucking place for you tall ass gods? There’s no fu- sorry, way that there’s more than one god.” Crossing his arms, a pink blush lightly across his face that was very light for anyone to see. But Eros could feel the slightest of love coming from where Adam is standing, silently squealing internally.

“Yes, he is indeed the original and the most powerful but we’re the gods who represent other things. Eros is the god of love, Demeter the goddess of nature, Ares the god of War, and Themis the goddess of Justice.” You said adjusting Adam into one hand so he wouldn’t fall, pointing at every single god in the room who greeted him in a simple head nod, a wave, or just a simple hello. “And what are you the goddess of? Being hot and sexy?” A smirk was on his face as he looked up at you, placing a hand over your mouth as you let out a laugh.

“No no. I’m the goddess of creation and destruction. I’m mostly second in command of all the gods and demigods.” You told him, placing him back down on the ground. Once he was on it you stood up to your full height which was about 40 feet tall. With a snap of your fingers the whole room shifted into a normal sized room so everything wasn’t so big for the first man. Your once 40 foot tall figure is now around ten tall along with the other good and goddess in the room.

“They're much better, so you won’t have to keep looking up at us,” you joked laughing a bit.

-After that encounter and when the meeting was over you had taken a stroll around the place with Adam explaining why he was here and not back in heaven. Your reasoning being that once someone ACTUALLY die you were either completely deleted or reincarnated by the hands of you guys

-But since it was THE Adam he was able to stay here and observe people and do whatever he wanted. Though he wouldn’t be able to go back to heaven since that would mess up everything

-Time continued to pass and during that you and Adam would get closer and closer each passing day

-He felt like he was falling more in love everytime he saw you or when you talked.

-You were single to so it was a plus for him

-He’d be the more possessive type of lover, as day passed he felt the need to stay by your side no matter what

-Whether it was a gods meeting, you in your office, checking up on heaven, hell, and Earth, or just strolling around the garden enough the view of everything

-Wherever you went he went. And where he went you went. Since this is gonna have to be a two way thing, after all your lovers friends

-Eros felt the love come off from Adam whenever he was near which was every second

-Not only did Eros the god of love feel the love but he felt the love was more possessive and a bit obsessive but more on the possessive side

-He didn’t care about it since it was still love

-Not much between the Dickmaster and Cupid; the first man doesn’t really like how he talks about love especially with you but when it’s someone else it’s cool with him just stay away from you and then the two of them will be cool

-Demeter didn’t really feel the need to get to know Adam since she knew everything about him but respected him enough as another demigod like god of sea, god of animals, etc, etc

-Ares oh geez don’t let those two stay in a room too long all they're gonna talk about is the war that they were in. Ares being the non stop against humans and other gods while Adam was against the sinners in hell

-Ares respected Adam, and Adam respected Ares back

-Themis and Adam is a completely different level of dislike

-Not like Themis HATES Adam or anything just doesn’t.. trust him

-How could she when her scale is always lower on one side than the other? And it wasn’t the good side

-Sometimes it’s balanced

-Now back to the two of you! You could care less on what Adam thinks of you if it was a lover, friend, family, or whatnot

-You were a goddess of creation and destruction you could do anything you want

-You also made Adam his own room in an instant once he had came to the Tower of Heaven

-It wasn’t ever used. Adam always slept in your room after the his first week stay and getting to know you better

-Adam has apologized multiple times for cursing in front of you or the other gods when getting a glare or look that told him to not say any of those words. He started using it less and less but still uses it time to time when with you, you didn’t say anything about it much unless he was cussing WAY to much

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick • hoseok's pov ch 5

➝  a/n: thank you so much to anon for this commission!! ❤️ this is hoseok's pov from when the mc visits his shop all the way back in chapter five of lovesick. i hope you enjoy! ➝  word count: 2.7k ➝ content warning: yandere behavior, stalker behavior, allusions to kidnapping. ➝ Lovesick Masterlist

Hoseok flips the cloth in his hand, sighing, as he scrubs at a particularly difficult stain. He knew that wooden counters wouldn't necessarily be the easiest thing to keep clean when he picked them out for the shop, but his employees had convinced him that some things just had to be done for the aesthetic. He finds himself deeply regretting being swayed by that now. There's no way he'll be able to clean up the rest of the storre in time for closing and that means he'll have to stay behind, once again missing his window to watch his soulmate cook dinner.

Hoseok's brows furrow as he remembers the steel chain he noticed last time he tried to venture up on the building that's across from yours, the door to the roof suddenly locked.

He will have to pick up some bolt cutters soon to get his vantage point back.

It was just by chance that Hoseok had tried the door leading up to it a few months ago, desperate for even a glimpse of his soulmate. He had no idea if your apartment even faced the street but by a stroke of luck (or perhaps, fate), the roof offered him a direct line of sight into your kitchen – making it the perfect place to watch you as you make dinner. You seemed to mostly be a creature of habit too, which made it easy for Hoseok to time just when he needed to be there.

Hoseok pushes his rolled-up sleeves further above his elbow, putting more force behind his movements as he works on the stubborn spot.

Someone must have seen him up there or heard him walk around if they decided to block it off, and that just won't do. He'll have to figure out a way to keep that door permanently open and accessible. He won't be denied the chance to admire you from afar. It's the thought of seeing you that keeps him going day after day, one tedious shift after another.

Hoseok is mulling every possible option over in his head when he suddenly hears the sound of footsteps moving closer.

Startled, he looks up, expecting to see another middle-aged man rushing in just before closing because he 'forgot' his anniversary and needs a last-minute gift for his wife.

Instead, Hoseok is greeted with the wondrous sight of you walking up to him, a tentative smile on your face. For all the times he has watched you from afar, it's nothing compared to seeing you this close – feeling your presence in the same room. 

His heart is pounding as he drinks you in, the subtle scent of your perfume just tickling his nose from where you're standing on the opposite side of the counter.

You're the most beautiful creature Hoseok has ever laid his eyes upon. He truly can't do anything else but grin as he's gifted with your appearance. It seems that fate is smiling upon him today.

Hoseok quickly chucks the cloth under the counter, into the bucket below. He uses his apron to dry off the dampness on his skin, internally cursing that he didn't have time to make himself look more presentable for you.

“Welcome to Hope chocolaterie! How may I help you today?” Hoseok asks. Fondness seeps into his voice as he looks at you, colouring his tone with more warmth than he normally bestows upon anyone.

Hoseok watches as your smile falters, your eyes rapidly scanning over the display between you until something seems to catch your gaze. A sliver of surprise passes over your face so quickly Hoseok would've been sure to miss it if he wasn't looking, but there is nothing that captures his attention more than you.

The elation he felt as you walked into the store quickly flips to concern as you let out a choked cough, your voice strained as you ask about one of the shop's gift boxes.

"We do have quite a few people coming in to buy them every day, but it's not the most popular gift box we have," Hoseok shrugs. 

He uses the opportunity to lean against the counter, feigning sheepishness in order to smell more of your gentle, tantalizing scent. “It’s, well, mainly older men who buy them in a poor attempt to win over their wives after they’ve done something stupid.”

For some reason Hoseok can't fathom, the answer seems to make you uncomfortable. A bout of panic washes over him as he realizes you might leave now that you know, that you might walk out of his shop with a strained impression of him just because his self-restraint slipped.

“Would you like to try some?” Hoseok gestures to the display, desperate to salvage the conversation in any way that he can. He won't let those sorry excuses for men taint his first real meeting with his soulmate.

”No, thank you,” You wave him off, your voice cracking, ”You’re closing soon, I don’t want to keep you.”

“You’re not!” Hoseok's mind races as he tries to come up with a plausible excuse to have you stay longer, ”We tend to get a lot of late shoppers so our opening times are never set in stone. And we always offer new customers free samples – it’s part of our policy.”

It's just a quick glance, your gaze barely lingering on the display before moving back to him, but Hoseok knows that is enough if he just pushes a little more. He knows you.

So, he leans one arm on the counter, upping the theatrics a little as he whispers loudly, ”The boss will get upset if you refuse, I could lose my job over this!”

“Aren’t you the boss?”

Hoseok is nothing short of delighted to learn that you actually know who he is; that some part of you still found him interesting enough to remember his face even though you're unaware of the bond.

He rests a hand over his heart, trying to calm the rapid pace of it as he says, “I sure am! And as the owner, I do insist that you try a few bites. It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t.”

You give in easily, just like Hoseok suspected you would.

He wastes no time in grabbing a plate, picking out a small selection of the chocolates he has a feeling you'll like. He takes extra care as he plates the one shaped like a heart, his most special creation so far. It was created with you in mind, all of his best ingredients and talent going into making it as perfect as possible – as perfect as you.

”Here you go, I picked out a few I think you'll like!”

Your fingers brush against Hoseok's as you take the plate with a soft thank you. The bond makes itself known as you touch, a spark of electricity buzzing up the length of Hoseok's arm, all the way to his heart. The short moment of contact is enough to force all of Hoseok's deepest wants and desires up to the surface, the itch under his skin urging him to take, take, take.

Hoseok grips the counter tightly, making sure the pleasant mask on his face doesn't slip. He shouldn't do anything rash right now, not when the bond made you so surprised. It's not time, not yet.

He watches silently as you shake off the feeling, taking stock of the plate in your hand before you go straight for the one shaped like a heart.

Hoseok holds his breath as you pop it into your mouth, a myriad of emotions flickering across your face as you take in the different flavors and how they pair together. He knows you'll like it, that the bond won't steer him wrong, but he still feels a small surge of relief as he sees your eyes sparkle at the taste.

Hoseok chuckles, proud, as he says, ”It’s good, right? We didn’t win all of those awards for nothing.”

Frankly, Hoseok has never cared much for empty compliments, letting them go in one ear and out the other. But hearing your sweet words of praise as you try out the different pieces is enough to make him feel like he's floating, his body positively thrumming with happiness. 

Hoseok's heavy gaze never strays from your mouth as you eat, intent to commit every twitch of your lips to memory. Once you're done, he leans back on his heels, a quiet anticipation buzzing under his skin as he finally asks, ”So, do you have any favourites? Are there any flavours that stood out to you?”

“They were all really good,” You respond, ”Hm, but I think I prefer the first one, the heart, the most.”

Hoseok's own heart picks up speed at that, a smug satisfaction washing over him as he takes in how earnest you are. He knew it. It's only right that you would like that one the most, that your soul would recognize the care and love Hoseok poured into its creation.

“Really?” Hoseok grins, "It’s a recent addition, but I thought you might like that one the best!”

As Hoseok reaches forward to take the plate back, he notices your gaze straying down to his chest, to the golden chain that has slipped out from his shirt. He swiftly tucks it back beneath his shirt, patting down the dark fabric to make sure it doesn’t slip out again as he disposes of your empty plate.

Hoseok had been too blinded by your presence before, too caught up in marveling at your face, to really take stock of what you're wearing. Your coat has been slipped off since you entered, revealing your bare collarbones and wrists.

That can't be right.

“You don’t wear any jewelry?” He asks flatly, eyebrows rising at the sight of your unadorned skin.

The fact that you're not wearing any of his gifts leaves a bitter sting, something displeased and heavy building steadily in the pit of his stomach.

You shake your head, ”Only on special occasions. I’m too clumsy and forgetful to use it on a daily basis, I would just end up either losing or ruining everything I own.”

Oh.

You must adore his gifts so much that you can't bear the thought of losing them.

The anger dissipates just as quickly as it arrives, the hard lines on Hoseok's face softening as he says, ”So you do it to protect your jewelry, then.”

“I-I, well, yeah I guess so."

The small stutter is adorable and the sudden shyness as you advert your eyes, from what Hoseok can only assume is you embarrassed of letting him know that you care, just makes him all the more fond.

”I would really like to buy a box of those heart-shaped chocolates if it’s not too late.”

Hoseok smiles as you try to divert his attention.

"Of course not!" He obliges easily, all too happy to send you home with a box filled with chocolates that he made specifically just for you.

Hoseok pauses his movements as you suddenly clear your throat, his gaze snapping from the display to your face instantly. He watches as you tilt your head toward the box you asked about earlier, ”Do you happen to have any regulars who buy that gift box often?”

It's an odd question and Hoseok finds it even more peculiar that it's still lingering on your mind.

“Why would you like to know?” Hoseok frowns, the silver tongs in his hand snapping closed with a sharp sound as he drops the piece of chocolate he was holding.

Something uneasy passes over your face, a shadow clouding your normally bright eyes as you admit, “The thing is, I’ve been receiving that particular gift box for months, but I have no idea who’s been giving them to me."

Hoseok feels his stomach flip, an ugly feeling taking over as you continue, “I really want to thank them but that’s impossible when I don’t know who’s behind them. They take the secret in secret admirer a little too seriously."

The airy giggle you let out sounds forced. Fake. Hoseok knows you're lying to him, that you're not enjoying the attention this 'secret admirer' is giving you. This person must be out of their mind trying to court his soulmate. Hoseok has never noticed anyone suspicious entering your building whenever he's been watching you, but the window is too small. There's too much time in the day where he isn't there, where he has no clue who's entering or exiting.

Hoseok is nothing short of livid that this has been happening right under his nose for months and he had no idea until just now.

“A secret admirer, huh?”

A humourless smirk tugs at Hoseok's lips as he turns back to the container in his hand, resuming his work of finishing up the box you ordered. He’s clutching the silver tongs so hard that they groan under his grip as he picks up the last piece, the edges of the chocolate beginning to crack before he shoves it into place with the rest.

He slides the box across the counter, letting out a controlled, slow breath through his nose as he turns to the cash register. He can't let you know just how much this upsets him, not when you're supposed to be strangers. He'll just have to figure out a way to deal with this quietly and quickly.

Hoseok uses a little more force than intended as he rings you up, his brewing anger making his fingers hammer against the touch screen. He makes sure to give you a hefty discount, knowing that there's no way you would ever accept it for free. You're just too kind to do something like that.

Hoseok already knows that you would be worried about something silly like him not being able to pay himself or his employees if he gives it to you for free. While he does admire your selflessness, Hoseok is determined to make you see that being a little selfish is fine. You deserve to take and not just give.

You swipe your card, keeping your eyes on the machine until it confirms your payment.

Hoseok doesn't want your interaction to end just yet but he's out of excuses to keep you in the shop longer. If he drags it out too much, you'll start getting suspicious. You are a very clever woman, after all.

Still, Hoseok can't help himself, desperate for another minute of breathing the same air as you as he says, “I can’t help you with that I’m afraid, I don’t keep track of what my customers buy."

He shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts that are shouting at him to not let you walk out that door, to keep you with him where it's safe.

“But–” Hoseok adds, crossing his arms over his chest to restrain himself, "If it’s that important to you to figure out who it is then I guess I can keep an eye out and note down the customers who buy them frequently.”

"Really?! Thank you so much!" Your relief is palpable, the twinkle in your gaze once again returning.

All because of him.

"Just note down your information here and I'll contact you if anything comes up."

"I really appreciate that, thank you," You say, flashing him a sweet smile as you write down your name and number.

It pains Hoseok to stick to his resolve as you bid him goodbye, his body and soul itching to not let you go. He returns your smile despite his urge to grimace, wishing you well even though he'd rather stick to your side to ensure that it does.

The moment you're out of sight, Hoseok's kind smile drops.

He's furious that your first meeting was marred by some secret admirer who doesn't know their place; that you're so disturbed by it that you even went to his shop in hopes that you might figure out who it is. Hoseok doesn't believe for a second that you want to thank them, it's clear that you just want them gone.

He won't let anyone come between your bond – he won't let anyone mess with his soulmate.

Maybe it is time for Hoseok to step up his game. And if he can't figure out who it is then, well, he can always remove you from the situation and bring you somewhere safe.

Somewhere it'll only be you and him.

Yes, Hoseok thinks, picking up the discarded cloth to once again scrub at the difficult spot on the counter, That's his best plan yet.

[flying-fangirls]

As a music, religion, and literature nerd, the Dies Irae has been one of my favorite go-to pieces of trivia for a long time, which means that this line:

Has been driving me batshit BONKERS since part 42! And also as a semi-professional media analysis yapper, I figured I might as well dive into the exact reasons I jumped up and audibly gasped upon first hearing this line and have subsequently lost my mind since then. So!

Here is why I think that the Dies Irae is the perfect analogy for John and Arthur:

Religion

Let's start with the most straightforward meaning: "Dies Irae" is a Latin term, and it translates to the "Day of Wrath." Or otherwise known as the Judgement Day, the foretold second coming in Catholic canon, when Christ will "come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." It's at this Last Judgement where God will wield perfect justice to send the worthy to everlasting peace and the unworthy to everlasting punishment. (everyone say "thank you" to excessive childhood Catholic lessons for burning this into my brain)

There's a kind of irony to the fact that Arthur so vehemently rejects Christianity and religion as a whole, and that John spends much of his arc trying to distance himself from the role/identity of a god, yet both are given this incredibly religious title, effectively restricting them from ever forgetting the presence/influence of religion in their lives.

This title has a couple layers though, because we have to consider why it's the Day of Wrath specifically that represents Arthur and John. Now, I don't think I have to tell you that those two are bursting with anger 80% of the time. But I am going to tell you that those two are not just angry, but moreso "divine fury" incarnate.

The Day of Wrath, the Final Judgment, is the final and eternal judgment of God on all: "For now before the Judge severe / all hidden things must plain appear; / no crime can pass unpunished here." (Dies Irae, Dies Illa). The final Judge, the all-powerful God, can see the objective morality of every single person, and is thus the sole, rightful determiner of fate.

This assumption of their right to perfectly and single-handedly decide others' worthiness shows up over and over, not just John and Arthur's actions, but also in how they describe these judgments.

When Arthur kills the widow on the island, it's not because she was dangerous, but because she was a cultist who "deserved" to be punished.

When John and Arthur need to get rid of Mr. Scratch's stone, John says they should give it to "criminals" who are "deserving of this curse." Even though, just moments before, Arthur refused to give the stone to Oscar because to do so would be to cursing him to a fate of eternal suffering.

And I can't go into every single detail about the entire Larson plotline because this post would double in size, but it obviously needs to be included here. Possibly the strongest tie between this arc and the idea of the Dies Irae is Arthur's conviction through it all. Arthur vows that he is going to kill Larson in divine retribution not because he wants to, but because he has to. He even goes so far as to admit that killing Larson will be a mistake, a cruel and overly-bloodthirsty action that goes against his compassion. But killing Larson isn't a choice to Arthur, it is the unavoidable punishment for Larson's sins and Arthur is simply the enactor of justice. Just like the Final Judgment, there is no sympathy, no hesitancy— the judgment is absolute, divinely ordained, and cannot be stopped no matter how undeniably horrific it is.

If we look at the Catholic Catechism, principle 2302 states that it is sinful to kill out of desire, but that it is "praiseworthy to impose restitution" and use violence to "maintain justic." So even if Arthur has intent to kill, his actions count as divinely sanctioned. He is acting as the hand of God's punishment.

Over the course of Season 3 and 4, Arthur's fiery rage dies down to a more gentle simmer, but his conviction only seems to grow, and John follows suit. Despite previously reprimanding Arthur for his unquestioning wrath, John eventually becomes just as convinced that Larson "deserves" to face a wrathful reckoning. The "fact" that Larson is wholly unforgivable and is fated to receive eternal punishment becomes more indisputable in their minds, and they both stop questioning the morality of their intentions, entirely convinced of their judgment.

Throughout the story, Arthur and John insist upon the importance of kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, and say that these are the values that guide their every action. Yet, time and time again, they approach certain people with nothing but wrath and resentment. It's a sharp contrast to the benevolent figures they make themselves out to be, and Arthur and John are often blind to the contradiction because, in their eyes, they are still following those values in every action. And in the moments when they do recognize their horrific words or actions, they still cannot let their judgment go, convinced that it is their "duty" either way.

In Part 35, Arthur says "Just because you can't make the hard decision, doesn't mean it's wrong." This is exactly how John and Arthur view themselves. They know that some of their actions are harsh and violent and painful, but they are don't view that violence as wrong, because they are enacting that violence in justice. They move through life with carefully-selected destruction, culling the world of those they view as unforgivable sinners, and punishing them with divine righteousness. Arthur and John carry righteous fury in their every step, bringing the Day of Wrath down upon the world around them.

Now, there's already a ton of meaning just in this religious allusion alone. However, there's another application of the Dies Irae in modern culture, which brings us to the second side of this title:

Music

Back in the 13th century (sounds like a familiar setting...), friar Thomas of Celano wrote a poem for and about the Dies Irae. The poem was recited at Requiem Mass (church services to honor the dead), and it ended up being set to a Gregorian chant tune.

Over time, this melody has been used by a variety of composers, but the one we're focused on is Hector Berlioz. In 1837, Berlioz used the Dies Irae melody as part of his narrative symphony, Grand Messe de morts, in order to communicate that the main character had died. Then a lot of other composers saw that and said "Hey that's a cool idea!", and started also using this melody to represent death in their music. Nowadays, it's a fairly staple part of modern film and musical storytelling. If you've listened to literally any major soundtrack, then there's a good chance you've heard this motif (or a variation of it) used before. It's often subtle, sometimes loud and obvious, but no matter what, it reveals the inevitable presence of death. (essentially, the Dies Irae=death)

Now, obviously there's something tragically ironic about Arthur being likened to a musical motif when he tries so hard to distance himself from it, and there's something tragically ironic about John being associated with such a dark piece of music when he shows so much fascination and joy toward the art. Again, though, we've got some layers here. Yorick doesn't just compare Arthur and John to the Dies Irae, he literally defines them as the Dies Irae, a full embodiment of it.

Even before the story started, Arthur lost both of his parents, his friend and wife, his daughter, and his best friend.

John, when he was part of the King in Yellow, knew only how to harm and attack. In the Dark World, he falls back on this fearful lashing out with violence, harming even more people.

And throughout the story, John and Arthur seem to bring devastation to everyone else around them: Lilly the buopoth, Oscar, Noel, Collins, Daniel, Larson and Yellow.

The arrival of Dies Irae musical motif in a film always indicates that death is approaching or that is has already struck— a host carrying its blight to spread onto others. Just like the musical motif, the arrival of Arthur and John foretells the near-arrival of death. They play a duet together— John and Arthur, and death— always singing and dancing around and with each other.

These two never succumb to death, always finding a way to slip through its fingers and survive every situation. But they cannot escape death's presence because they are death's partner— singing the melody to death's subtle harmony. They cannot escape death because they are its host— destined to carry and spread devastation to death's victims. From the moment you meet John and Arthur, you know that death is inevitably approaching just a step behind, waiting to strike you down.

Whether it's the religious or musical side, we can see that John and Arthur are the literal embodiment of these allusions. They carry these powers and ideas in their every action and word, in their every step, in their very breath and blood.

Arthur and John. The hands of God's justice. The enactors of divine fury.

Arthur and John. The hosts of blight and destruction. The partner of death's song.

The man himself. The voice inside his head.

The Day of Wrath. The Dies Irae.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: joshua

soulmates

'hand in hand, you and me. today, tomorrow, forever.'

when 00:00 glow green in the darkness, you clutch your bedsheets tighter, feeling light burn on your right wrist. it's happening. what everyone talked about, waited for, dreamed of. it tingles for few seconds and when it stops, you know that name of your soulmate is now etched on your wrist with black ink which will not come off no matter how hard you'll try. unspilled tears sting your eyes and you're about to go to the bathroom, when you hear careful knocking and gentle 'love?' from the other side of the door.

'joshua?' you question loudly before jumping from the bed and rushing to open the door. just like you predicted, your boyfriend is waiting on the other side, wearing oversized hoodie on top of his light blue pjs. 'babe, what-'

'your roommate is here?' he asks, interrupting you gently. at the shake of your head, he then points inside. 'can i come in then?'

for the first time since you started dating you hesitate. should you let him in when you don't know if it's his name on your wrist and vice versa? there are so many things on the tip of your tongue: have you checked? is it my name? am i your soulmate? your insides are churning just from the possibility of someone else's name being written on his wrist. joshua takes a second to assess your state and it doesn't take him long to understand what's happening with you. he's always been good at figuring out your feelings even before you did, always knew what to say or do to calm you down. before you can voice out your fears, his arms find their way around your waist, gently but firmly pulling you towards him. 'shh,' he whispers, hugging you tight. 'i know, love, i know.'

'i'm scared,' you mutter, hiding your face in his neck. and it's such a familiar place for you, you can't imagine not being able to do that, can't bear the thought of not having joshua this close to you.

you didn't know how joshua felt the same, how holding your trembling body in his arms made him want to tuck you away from this world and just forget about everything. if the stars decide that you two are not meant for each other then he'll write his own story, create another univerise in which you are his and he is yours because that's the only correct way of how it should be. he hasn't looked at his wrist, mostly because he is scared too but also because he doesn't have to look at it to know who is his fate. gulping, he tightens his arms around you, leaving small kisses on your shoulder.

'have you looked?' you ask in a small voice, biting your lower lip. 'what if-'

'look at me,' joshua asks, leaning back until you move your head and make eye contact. 'i haven't looked. we're both going to look right now but before we do, i just want you to know that it won't change a thing, okay? you are it for me and i don't care if universe agrees with me or not.'

'b-but, if it's not my name..' you start, not being able to finish that sentence because every word breaks your heart.

'then i will cover that name with yours,' joshua says with sureness of person who will not change his mind. 'i will go to the tattoo parlor right now and will make sure that only your name is on my wrist. i love you. do you love me?' at your nod, most beautiful smile blooms on his face. 'ah, i'm just the luckiest guy, aren't i? universe already blessed me with your love, let's check if it blessed me again, shall we?'

it's scary. your throat tightens up and heart rate slows down in anticipation. you didn't think that figuring out who's your soulmate will happen in the middle of the hallway of your dormitory with your boyfriend right in front of you, but life has its own plans. grasping sleeve of your sweatshirt, you look up at joshua, who's already looking at you with impossible fondness. you are it for me, he mouths and with this rolls up his sleeve, looking down. you don't have to look down at your own wrist, because watching surprise and happiness glow on joshua's face is the answer enough for you. when he looks back at you, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

'it did bless me again,' he whispers, not looking away from you. his eyes are filled with awe and he brings your faces close, so close that your foreheads are almost touching. 'i would've created another universe for us but i don't have to. you are mine in this one.'

what comes out from your mouth is a mix of hysterical laughter and whimpering sob. joshua smiles and takes your hand in his, showing you both his own name written prettily on your wrist. he strokes it lovingly with his thumb as you stare transfixed, not being able to utter a single word. relief floods your system and you sag against him, smiling at the way he keeps on leaving small kisses anywhere he can reach.

'you are my soulmate,' you let out, still in shock. 'josh, you are my soulmate.'

he chuckles, nodding. 'yours, baby. forever and ever.'

he hugs you tight, looking up to the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whoever is responsible for this to happen. he prayed yesterday, promised that he won't ask for anything else as long as he'll get this wish right. i will never ask for anything else, he thinks, mentally sending this message to the universe. you gave me everything.

a/n: oh the feels :') impossible to picture anyone else for this au, so of course it's joshua. tell me how you liked it! - nini

my other works can be found here

[impactedfates]

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

.

.

.

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

.

.

.

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!