#I should stop tagging everything everywhere like I’m

[sirendabbles]

Screw it this is an everything blog now — if people get confused I’ll just start linking (🧝🏼‍♂️) stuff

Anywho these are two ocs of mine cuz it’s antagonist appreciation week I have declared it and these two are both technically antagonists of their own happiness :D

[florawrites-blog]

Mother.....- enhypen

-When the calm girlfriend finally snaps

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The evening had started like any other, with you calmly going about your routine, trying to unwind after a long day. But as you walked into the living room, the sight of the mess Heeseung had left behind—after you'd asked him countless times to clean it up—stopped you in your tracks.

The clutter was everywhere: dishes piled up on the coffee table, clothes strewn across the couch, and random items scattered on the floor. You could feel the familiar tightening in your chest, the overstimulation building up like a pressure cooker. You had always been calm, collected, the one who kept things together, but tonight, it was too much.

“Heeseung!” you called out, your voice strained as you tried to keep it together. He emerged from the bedroom, his usual carefree smile on his face, oblivious to the storm brewing in you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, glancing around the room without a second thought.

That was the breaking point. All the frustration, the countless times you’d asked him to clean up, the overwhelming mess—it all came crashing down at once.

“Why is this still here?” you snapped, your voice sharp and louder than you intended. “I’ve asked you so many times to clean this up, and it’s like you don’t even care! Do you know how exhausting it is to come home to this every single day? I can’t handle this anymore!”

Heeseung stood frozen in place, eyes wide with shock. He had never seen you like this—never heard your voice raised in anger. You could see the fear and surprise in his expression, and it only made the guilt begin to creep in, but you couldn’t stop now. The words just kept pouring out.

“I try so hard to keep this place together, to make it comfortable for both of us, and you can’t even pick up after yourself? I’m so tired of having to clean up your messes, and you just…you just ignore it like it doesn’t matter!” You could feel your hands shaking, the overstimulation making everything feel too loud, too much.

Heeseung’s face softened, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took a hesitant step toward you. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize it was bothering you this much,” he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to calm the storm inside you. The sight of him standing there, looking so vulnerable and unsure, made the anger ebb away, leaving behind only exhaustion and regret.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just…I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

Heeseung quickly closed the distance between you, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ve been careless, and I should’ve listened when you asked. I never wanted to make you feel like this.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body as his warmth surrounded you. “I just need you to help me, okay?” you said softly, your voice still trembling slightly. “I can’t do everything on my own.”

He nodded against you, his hold on you tightening. “I promise, I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel this way again.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, holding each other in the middle of the mess, the anger and frustration giving way to a quiet understanding. You knew that things wouldn’t be perfect, but at least now, he understood how much it meant to you. And that was a start.

Park jongseong - 박종성

You had always been known as the quiet one, the one who handled things with grace, never letting anything ruffle your feathers. Even Jay, who knew you better than anyone, had never seen you truly lose your temper. But today was different.

You were out with some of your high school friends, a group that had always been a little too opinionated for your taste. Jay had tagged along, more than happy to spend time with you, even if it meant being around people he didn’t know too well. The day had started off fine, but as the conversation progressed, it took a turn that you could feel brewing for a while.

One of the girls, who had always had a knack for saying the wrong things, began bringing up some old, unnecessary information about your close friend Nudsie. They were poking fun at things that were clearly uncomfortable for her, laughing at memories that should have stayed buried. Nudsie, ever the good sport, laughed along with them, but you could see the strain in her eyes, the way she was forcing herself to stay composed.

Something snapped inside you.

You could feel the anger bubbling up, a rare and unfamiliar sensation for you. Normally, you would let things slide, brush off the comments, but not today. Today, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” you interrupted, your voice calm but carrying an edge that made the group go silent. The girls turned to you, surprised by the sudden shift in your tone. “Because it’s really starting to seem like you don’t.”

They blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in your words. You didn’t raise your voice, didn’t cause a scene, but the intensity behind your calm demeanor was enough to make them freeze in place.

“Nudsie has been nothing but kind to all of you, and this is how you repay her? By dragging up things that should’ve been left in the past? You might think it’s funny, but it’s not. It’s hurtful, and frankly, it’s immature. If you’re so bored with your own lives that you have to dig up others’ pasts to entertain yourselves, then maybe you should focus on improving yourselves instead.”

You could see the discomfort in their faces, the way they shifted in their seats, unable to meet your gaze. The silence that followed was deafening. They had no comeback, no defense—just awkward, guilty expressions.

Jay, who had been watching the whole exchange, was surprised but also impressed. He had never seen you like this, and as much as it caught him off guard, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. He hid a smirk behind his hand, knowing this wasn’t the time to show his amusement.

The girls mumbled weak apologies, clearly too shaken to continue with their usual banter. They avoided eye contact with you, their earlier bravado completely gone.

You took a deep breath, the anger slowly ebbing away as you turned your attention back to Nudsie, who looked both relieved and touched by your defense. “Are you okay?” you asked her softly, your tone completely different from the one you had just used.

She nodded, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.”

You nodded back, feeling the tension in your shoulders finally ease. As you turned to Jay, you found him watching you with a mixture of admiration and pride, his eyes shining with affection.

He leaned in closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased, his lips curling into a smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn’t help but smile back. “It takes a lot to get me there,” you replied, your voice softening. “But some things are worth standing up for.”

Jay reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered, his tone sincere.

You squeezed his hand back, feeling a sense of calm return. The moment had passed, and you were back to being your composed self, but now Jay had seen a side of you he never knew existed—a side that made him admire you even more.

Sim jaeyun -심재윤

You had a long day, running errands that seemed to drag on forever. All you wanted was to come home, relax, and get ready for the evening. You had asked Jake to do one simple thing—just one—so you wouldn’t have to worry about it when you got back: the laundry. He had agreed, of course, always the obedient and loving boyfriend, eager to help out.

But when you opened the door to the laundry room, your jaw dropped.

The entire room was filled with foam, spilling out of the washing machine and spreading across the floor. The machine itself was making a strange, gurgling noise, clearly on the brink of breaking down entirely. And in the middle of it all stood Jake, staring at the chaos with wide, dumbfounded eyes.

You just stood there for a moment, taking in the disaster before you. Your patience, which had already been worn thin by the frustrating errands you had to deal with, finally snapped. The clothes you needed to wear tonight were now soaking in a sea of foam, and the laundry room looked like a scene out of a sitcom gone horribly wrong.

“Jake!” you snapped, your voice louder than you intended, startling him out of his daze. “Be so fucking for real—what the fuck happened here?!”

Jake blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to explain. “I—I don’t know, I just… I followed the instructions and—”

But before he could finish, you cut him off, the anger bubbling up and spilling over. “I better get a good explanation because this is insane! I’ve had the worst day, and now I come home to this?!”

Jake looked like a deer caught in headlights, clearly shocked by your outburst. He’d never seen you lose your temper like this. You were always so calm, so collected, but this—this was a side of you he didn’t know existed.

And it scared him.

In a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation, Jake immediately dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’m sorry, mother—I mean, Y/N—I don’t even have an explanation,” he stuttered, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I must have done something wrong, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad!”

The sight of him on his knees, so panicked and remorseful, broke through your anger just enough to make you realize how ridiculous this whole situation was. The absurdity of it all—the foam-filled room, Jake’s panicked apology—was almost too much. You felt the last bit of your rage dissipate, leaving you standing there, half-exasperated, half-amused.

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair as you looked at him, still on his knees, clearly terrified of your reaction. “Jake, get up,” you said, your voice softening as you tried to reign in your temper. “I’m not going to kill you.”

He hesitated, glancing up at you cautiously. “Are you… are you sure?” he asked, his voice small.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. The situation was so absurd, so unlike anything you’d ever imagined dealing with, that all you could do was laugh. “Yes, Jake, I’m sure. I’m mad, but I’m not going to kill you.”

Relieved, Jake slowly got to his feet, still looking a bit sheepish. “I’m really sorry,” he said again, his tone sincere. “I have no idea what went wrong. I must have used too much detergent or something.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite everything. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious,” you replied, glancing at the foamy disaster still covering the room. “But we’ll figure it out. Just… maybe let’s avoid you doing laundry for a while, okay?”

Jake nodded quickly, his usual confidence completely replaced by a mixture of guilt and relief. “Absolutely. Never touching the washing machine again,” he promised, a nervous laugh escaping him.

You sighed again, but this time, it was more out of exhaustion than anger. “Alright, let’s clean this up before it gets any worse,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and preparing to tackle the mess.

Jake immediately jumped to help, still eager to make up for his mistake. As you both worked to clean up the foam, he couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then, still amazed by what he had just witnessed.

You caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He shook his head, a smirk finally breaking through his guilt. “Nothing, just… you’re kind of scary when you’re mad, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you don’t see that side of me too often.”

Jake grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Deal.”

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

You and Sunghoon were on the couch, attempting to have a relaxing evening together. He had the soccer match on, and you could tell he was fully invested. But as the game went on, he started to get a little too invested. Every time his team missed a shot or the opposing team got too close to scoring, he’d smack your thigh—hard.

At first, you brushed it off. It was just his way of expressing his excitement, and you were used to his quirks. After all, you had your own—like when you would bite his biceps out of nowhere just to see his reaction. But as the minutes ticked by and the smacks got stronger, it started to wear on you.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled, shifting away slightly. But he was feeling uncharacteristically clingy tonight, and no matter where you moved, he followed, his focus still on the game.

Another smack landed on your thigh, this one even harder than before. You winced, feeling the sting. It was starting to feel less like playful taps and more like someone had whacked you with a heated building block. You tried to stay calm, but the next hit pushed you over the edge.

“Sunghoon, I swear to god,” you snapped, your voice laced with irritation, “if you lay your fingers on me one more goddamn time, I will take every single one of your fingers, cut them off with a smile on my face, cook them, then serve them to you on a plate and feed them to you.”

Sunghoon froze, his hand halfway in the air, eyes wide in shock. He turned to look at you, completely speechless, his mouth slightly agape as he processed what you’d just said. He knew you could get feisty, but this was on another level. The intensity in your eyes made it clear that you were dead serious, and he quickly realized he had crossed a line.

For a moment, the room was silent, the sound of the game still playing in the background, but neither of you paid attention to it anymore. Sunghoon slowly lowered his hand, his pride and confidence suddenly shrinking under your fiery gaze.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You sighed, the anger slowly dissipating as you saw the look of remorse on his face. “Just… be more careful, okay? I know you get into the game, but I’m not a punching bag.”

Sunghoon nodded quickly, scooting closer to you again, but this time with more care. “I promise, no more smacking,” he said, trying to make up for it by wrapping an arm around your shoulder gently, as if you were a fragile piece of glass.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his sudden change in demeanor. “You better keep that promise, or you’re going to have to figure out how to play soccer without fingers.”

He chuckled nervously, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple. “Deal,” he whispered, pulling you closer as he turned his attention back to the game, but this time making sure to keep his hands far away from your thighs.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You had always admired Sunoo’s dedication to his career, his meticulous attention to every detail of his life, especially when it came to his health and appearance. But lately, his obsession with this new diet had been pushing you to the edge. He was cutting back on meals, skipping out on food that he usually enjoyed, and it was driving you crazy. You respected his choices, but this was too much.

Today, however, you’d had enough. You found him in the kitchen, making yet another bland, low-calorie meal, and something inside you snapped.

“Sunoo, we need to talk,” you said, your voice tense as you walked up to him.

He looked up, surprised by the tone in your voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting down the plate he was holding.

“What’s wrong?” you echoed, your voice rising in frustration. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been on this ridiculous diet for weeks now, and it’s not healthy! You’re not eating enough, and it’s driving me insane! I can’t stand to see you do this to yourself anymore, Sunoo!”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. He’d never seen you this upset before, not with him. He knew you were worried, but he hadn’t realized just how much it was affecting you.

“But I’m just trying to—” he started to explain, but you cut him off, your anger bubbling over.

“No! No more excuses!” you said, your voice firm as you stood in front of him, your eyes filled with a mix of anger and concern. “This diet is not okay, Sunoo. You’re hurting yourself, and it’s breaking my heart to watch you do this. I care about you too much to let you keep going like this.”

Sunoo’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor, his usual bright energy nowhere to be seen. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he realized how much his actions had been affecting you. He’d been so focused on his own goals that he hadn’t considered how his behavior was impacting the people who cared about him—especially you.

He didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there, pouting slightly, his gaze fixed on the ground. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but your heart was still pounding in your chest. “Sunoo, I love you,” you said, your voice softer now. “But this has to stop. You’re perfect the way you are, and you don’t need to do this to yourself. Please, promise me you’ll stop this diet.”

Sunoo looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and remorse. He knew you were right, and he hated seeing you this upset. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Then promise me,” you insisted, your tone gentle but firm. “Promise me you’ll stop.”

Sunoo nodded slowly, the weight of his promise settling heavily on his shoulders. “I promise,” he said quietly, finally meeting your gaze. “I’ll stop.”

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered against his shoulder. “I just want you to be healthy and happy.”

Sunoo hugged you back, holding you close. “I will be,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. He knew he had a lot to work on, but with you by his side, he knew he could do it.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

You loved Jungwon more than anything. He was kind, thoughtful, and always knew how to make you smile. But there was one thing that drove you absolutely insane—his obsession with mukbang videos. It wasn’t just a casual interest; he would play them at any given moment, whether you were eating, cuddling, or just trying to relax. Normally, you’d let it slide because, well, it made him happy. But tonight was different. You were PMSing, already feeling irritable and craving a bit of comfort, but instead of the soothing presence of your boyfriend, you were greeted with the obnoxious sound of someone slurping noodles on full blast.

As you entered the living room, there he was—your big dork of a boyfriend, sitting in front of the TV with a plate of food in front of him, grinning ear to ear as the mukbang video played. The sound of exaggerated chewing and slurping filled the room, making your skin crawl. You tried to push through it, telling yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, but the longer it went on, the more unbearable it became. The misophonia you suffered from flared up, and every sound felt like a personal attack on your sanity.

“Jungwon,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation was evident.

He didn’t seem to notice your tone, too engrossed in the video. “Yeah?” he replied, not even turning to look at you, his eyes glued to the screen.

That was it. The last straw. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Jungwon, I swear to God, if you don’t stop that stupid video right now, I might as well unplug the TV, kick you out, and throw the TV out with you!��

Jungwon’s eyes widened in shock as he finally turned to face you, his expression dumbfounded. He’d never heard you this angry before, especially not over something as seemingly harmless as a video. But seeing the genuine frustration in your eyes, he immediately realized how serious you were.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly grabbing the remote and pausing the video. The room fell into blessed silence, and he looked at you with wide, apologetic eyes. “I didn’t know it was bothering you that much.”

You let out a long breath, the tension in your shoulders slowly easing now that the noise was gone. “It’s just… I can’t deal with it right now, especially tonight. I need a little sympathy, not more noise.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and he immediately moved to sit beside you on the couch. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, gently pulling you into his arms. “Here, you can have my food. I’ll turn off the TV, and we can just relax together.”

You looked up at him, your irritation fading as you saw the concern in his eyes. He really hadn’t meant any harm, and now that you’d gotten your frustration out, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for snapping at him. But Jungwon wasn’t upset; if anything, he looked relieved that he could make it right.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, accepting his offer and taking a bite of his food. It tasted even better knowing he cared enough to listen to you.

Jungwon smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Anything for you,” he said, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. And with that, he settled beside you, the two of you finding comfort in each other’s presence, with no mukbang videos in sight.

Ni- ki -남편

You and Ni-ki had just returned home from what felt like the longest, most exhausting day ever. Every part of your body ached, and all you wanted to do was collapse into bed and drift off to sleep. Ni-ki, however, had other plans. Despite having gone through the same grueling day as you, he seemed completely unfazed as he immediately made a beeline for his PlayStation. It was his go-to stress relief, and as much as you loved him, you couldn’t understand how he had the energy to play after a day like this.

You tried to ignore it, convincing yourself that you could sleep through the sounds of his game. But as soon as you started drifting off, the loud, agitating sound of the PlayStation starting up filled the room, followed by the unmistakable noise of gunfire and explosions. You groaned, turning over in bed and pulling the blanket over your head.

But then came the worst part—Ni-ki’s screams. Each time he lost, he let out these deep, guttural growls that seemed to shake the room. His voice, usually comforting, was now the most irritating sound in the world. You pressed a pillow over your head, trying to block out the noise, but it was no use. The sounds seeped through, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Niki, scream one more time. I dare you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow but still laced with irritation.

He thought you were joking, so he let out another loud yell when he lost the next round. That was it. You sat up, grabbed the nearest pillow, and threw it directly at his head. It hit him squarely, and he turned around, eyes wide in surprise, as he pulled off his headset.

“If I even hear you breathe right now, Ni-ki,” you snapped, your voice low and deadly serious, “I will dig my hands so deep in your throat and snatch your voice box out. Let’s see how you’ll be able to scream again at 3 a.m. in the morning. Ni-ki, don’t test me.”

Ni-ki’s eyes widened even more, and for a moment, he was completely speechless. He’d never seen you this upset before, and it shocked him to his core. He quickly realized you were not in the mood for jokes or more noise.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” he mumbled, quickly turning off the PlayStation and sitting down quietly beside you, looking at you like a scolded puppy.

You let out a heavy sigh, the anger slowly ebbing away now that the room was finally quiet. “Thank you,” you muttered, lying back down and pulling the covers over yourself again.

Ni-ki slid under the covers beside you, cautiously wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

You softened at his words, and though you were still a bit frustrated, you appreciated his apology. “Just… no more games this late, okay? I really need to sleep.”

“I promise,” he repeated, holding you close as you finally started to relax. The two of you drifted off to sleep, with no more interruptions, and the only sound left in the room was the quiet, steady rhythm of Ni-ki’s breathing as he cuddled up to you.

[anasanthology]

Always Close Your Tabs.

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI (I don’t care who reads just if your account age is set to under 18 don’t interact please), step-cest, pseudo-incest, stepbrother/stepsister pairing, degradation kink, light face slapping, very light praise kink, Dom/Sub, lowkey Hard Dom!Leon Kennedy, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mean Leon (I feel he’s a little ooc), like one mention of breeding kink, we got a little sweet aftercare at the end, not as tame as other stuff I’ve written, fem-specific gendered terms. Not proofread.

Notes: FIRST LEON FIC I’M POSTING 😚 actually feeling kinda good about this one! I felt like finishing this and posting it today so here so go!!! I hope you like it ☺️ as always, likes and—especially—comments are very VERY much appreciated 😌 if you have any tags you think I should add just tell me cause I’m not sure if I missed any 🧐 ANYWAYS, enjoy, lovelies 💕

4.5k words | Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

The couch was irritating you, you were hyper aware of it, the texture, the firmness, everything about it. It didn’t matter where you sat though, everywhere was irritating. Everything was irritating. Your parents were out of town on some dumb anniversary. No. Your parent and her husband. Leaving you home alone with your stepbrother.

 Leon. 

He was annoying. He was rude, crass, and bitchy. When your mom had told you she was seeing a guy you were happy for her, until she told you that he had a son a few months older than you. Other kids was the one dealbreaker for you, but your mom loved this man so much and you didn’t exactly have much time left to live with her. You could deal with it. So you met Leon, he didn’t talk the entire dinner but to introduce himself and then order something. This was 8 months ago.

Now you live with him.

You were sure that there were worse people to live with, like… Bundy or Dahmer maybe. He always had those loudmouth friends of his over. Chris, who would spend the whole time yelling at the tv and Luis, who would just flirt with you the whole time. The worst of it was that they would only hang out in the living room so you were always confined to your room till they left. That was unless you wanted to hear, ‘ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH ME,’ and, ‘Hola, señorita, ¿Qué pasa? You look gorgeous,’ which… you didn’t wanna hear that. Not to even mention how insufferable he was when they weren’t around. Which was the situation now. Sitting on the couch next to you was Leon Kennedy, staring up at the tv watching Desperate Housewives. He had this constant resting dick face that never seemed to go away, and along with that he also seemed to be followed by resting dick air everywhere he went. Especially now that his dad took away his phone and other electronics before your guys’ parents left for their trip. Because apparently that man cared jack shit for your sanity. Now, Leon was irritated. He was insufferable when he was irritated. It just radiated off of him and you were a porous permeable surface. You guys sat like that until…

“Can I use your laptop?”

“What?” You turned to him, his words bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Can I use your laptop?” He repeated himself.

“Uh… sure, I guess?” Shrugging you got off the couch before stopping in your tracks and pointing at him, “but I get to use your car!” Your eyes widen with excitement and you point at him.

“No, no way. You are not driving my car. Not gonna happen.” He huffed in amusement and shook his head.

“And why not?” Your hands went to your hips and you made a face.

“Because,” he mocks your tone, “you’ll crash it.”

“Says you! Leon, you are like the king of bad driving. You hit a tree last month! A tree! They don’t even move and they’ve been there for like years!” Your hands were flying everywhere at this point. You had your license, but since Leon was a little older and got his a little before you he got a car. And since he got a car—and only Jeff Bezos could comfortably pay for his car insurance—you didn’t get one, you had to share with your mom and stepdad. But since they were halfway across the country, you were stuck here.

“It was in my blind spot!”

“What about that mailbox last week? Or Ms. Anderson’s side mirror? Everything can’t be in your blind spot, Leon. That’s what windows are for.” you close your eyes and sigh, “you know what, I don’t care. Bottom line is, if you don’t let me drive your car, no laptop.” You knew you were reaching, but you didn’t care. It’s not like you lost anything if he said no. It wasn’t fair he got the car anyways, your mom promised you a year ago on your birthday that when you got your license she’d take you to a used car dealership and you could pick one. But apparently ‘situations change’ and ‘things don’t always go as planned’, so you were left having to explain to your friends that it actually wasn’t gonna happen. Leon could practically burn holes through your face with the way he was looking at you, honestly that’s probably what he was thinking about. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“Fine.” He opens his eyes and gives you just about the brattiest look imaginable. You just smile and giggle. Your eyes widened in surprise. You were not expecting him to actually say yes.

“Okay!” You practically sprint upstairs to your room, grabbing your laptop off the bed. You make your way back downstairs and bring it to him. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks.” He takes it with a scowl and gets up.

“Whaddya need it for anyways?”

“Because I wanna watch stuff.” He responds flatly.

“What kinds of stuff?” ‘Porn?’ Was your first thought, but you opted not to verbalize that. 

“Stuff you can’t watch on the tv?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” You blinked at him.

“Because you’re watching the tv in here, dingus.” He didn’t look guilty. You know, like you would if you were gonna use your stepsister’s laptop to watch porn off of. He just looks annoyed. “Can I go watch some shit now or you gonna keep interrogating me, detective?”

“Jeez, moody. Sure, go.” You shoo him and turn back to the tv as you sit on the couch. He walks away to his room and you lay back covering your face with your arm. It felt like a weight had been lifted, the tension gone immediately. Part of you wanted to say it was just because he made the air so thick with irritation he could suffocate a room, but you knew that wasn’t completely true…

Leon was hot, like crazy hot.

It was frustrating being around that all day and night. Eating dinner across from an actual model… not easy. It was especially not easy when that model was a sarcastic asshole, and it was especially especially not easy when you kinda liked it. Yes every comment pissed you off, made you want to scream sometimes, punch a hole in the wall. but it also had you wondering… ‘would he… I mean in bed did he…’ god you hoped so. ‘Ew, no you didn’t.’ It was dumb—and entirely inappropriate—but that’s all you could think about when he was around. At some point all the irritation and hatred you had for him just living here, turned into… something you shouldn’t think about.

But who cares.

You didn’t have time to think about that. You had much more pressing matters to attend to, like… desperate housewives. You sit up and lay your body on top of your legs like you were folding yourself in half. You looked up at the screen and flipped onto your back kicking your legs over the back of the couch. It was like you just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what. 

“Mmmmmuuhhhhhh.” Sighing you sat back up like normal, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and onto your tired form. And then it hit you.

The computer.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Standing up abruptly you started making your way to Leon’s room, practically running up the stairs.

You were tired last night. Really, really tired.

So maybe, just maybe, you forgot to close out of a tab last night. Or maybe a couple. Besides it is your computer, why do you need to close out of anything? You don’t, or at least you don’t when your step brother isn’t using your computer.

“Leon, I need my computer.” You knocked at his door and turned the knob quickly. Locked, of fucking course. “Leon?” Bouncing around a little on the balls of your feet, impatiently you step back from the door and shake the tension out of your hands. ‘Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he… didn’t even get on the computer yet. “Leon, I don’t… I don’t need your car. It’s fine, I asked Claire and she said she’d drive me this week.” His door opens like that’s exactly what he was waiting to hear.

“Okay, fine. Take it.” He steps away from the door and you walk inside, looking back at him you take extra attention to his expression. He definitely knows. You just turn back unable to think about that for too much longer, your face burning with heat as you pick up your laptop off of his bed. You feel a pair of hands snake around your waist and you tense up. “But first, I have to know why my slutty little sister thought it was a good idea to give me her laptop with porn open.” It was like your brain took a screenshot. ‘Did he just…’

“I don’t… Leon, I’m sorry. I didn’t-I forgot.”

“Oh you’re such a liar.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “No, I think you did it on purpose. You’re such a smart girl, I don’t believe you could be so stupid.” Your breath got heavier at his accusation.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I fell asleep ‘nd forgot it was on there.” He didn’t respond but his hands started running up and down your sides. “Leon, stop teasing me.” Your voice came out just a whiny whisper, sounding a lot more needy rather than urgent like you meant it.

“You know, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into that sort of stuff. Always get so nervous when Luis flirts with you, always get so flustered when people touch each other in a movie.” He was ignoring your request completely. “But it makes sense now, you get all shy cause you like it.” Your eyes widen and you squirm in his arms, not exactly trying to get away. Not really trying to get away at all actually. “Wonder how many times I’ve been sitting with you on the couch while your cunt gets all wet. So shameless, darling.” Your body is frozen in embarrassment, it’s kinda hot. ‘God. Don’t think like that Jesus.’

“No, never,” Liar. “Leon, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Yet you aren’t trying to stop me, are you?” His voice is so completely self assured and cocky. Asshole. It made you so wet. You aren’t trying to stop him. You don’t want him to stop, even though you should. He pulls his hands back a little for you, so that if you want to get out you can. Without as much internal protest as you’d hoped, you stay completely still. “See, I was right. You are just a little slut who wants to get touched by her stepbrother.” You visibly cringe at that but feel slick spill into your panties at his words.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” His hands go back around you, pulling you close to him. You could feel the outline of his hardened cock against you.

“Stop… being weird.” You shifted around in his arms.

“How am I being weird?” He snickered.

“Because you’re… stop saying it like that?” Your face was burning at this point. He was pushing up against you, pressing your hips against the edge of his bed.

“Saying it like what? Isn’t that exactly what’s going on? A dumb whore getting wet for her brother?”

“Leon.” His hand dipped down the front of your pants, running his finger down your clothed slit.

“Oh but why? It feels like you like it when I talk to you like that. I mean… given the videos you were watching, I bet you like it.” You pushed up against him. You just want him closer, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong. He knew what he was doing, making you feel small, degrading you. “You do like it, fuck.” He started grinding himself against your back. You did like it, you wanted him to keep going, keep making you feel small.

“No it… Leon, it’s weird.”

“I know it is, but you like it. You like how depraved it makes you feel. You can’t deny it, I quite literally have seen the stuff you watch to get off.” He was laughing a little, it only amplified how hot and humiliating this was. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Everytime you’d roll your eyes when I’d tease you all I could think about was taking it further, pinning you against the counter or the couch and just telling you anything I could think of.”

“Thought you said you didn’t think I’d be into this?”

“You can be into anything I want you to in my fantasies.” His other hand snakes up to start running his thumb up and down the column of your throat. This really should not have such an effect on you, but it does. Your eyes flutter and you let out a soft needy breath as you lay your head back against him. “Oh you like that? You like that I just imagine you in any position I want?” You nod your head reluctantly. Your lips open and close but no sound comes out. He’s barely even touched you but it feels like your tongue is twisted up in your mouth. You can feel your resolve just slipping away the more he speaks to you, the more he touches you.

“Leon, this is… this is so wrong…” your voice comes out so quiet you aren’t sure he could hear you. Or maybe it’s just because the blood pounding in your ears is so loud that you can barely hear yourself.

“But you like that don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.” His finger travels further up to slide across your bottom lip. Involuntarily—you tell yourself—your lips part slightly. He just laughs softly behind you, the smirk that was undoubtedly plastered on his face was audible. “Does this slutty girl want something in her mouth? There you go…” he slides his finger past your lips and onto your tongue. His thumb starts pushing slow thrusts against your tongue. Your hands go to hold onto his forearm feebly, not trying to move or stop him but just needing something to hold onto. “Yeah? You like it when I finger your pretty little mouth?” You just whine and start sucking around his thumb. “Fuck, bet you’d do so good on my cock.” You turned around to face him.

It was stupid, and you don’t know why you did it… yes you do, liar.

“What?” He grinned down at you. Now being able to see your lips around his thumb he couldn’t get enough of it. You knew you were turned on but holy shit you weren’t expecting him to look like… that. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were lidded. A light blush dusts his cheeks. God he looked good. You imagined you probably looked something similar, probably worse. “I asked you a question.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and slides it down your chin and across your neck. ‘Oh, right.’

“I um… can I?” You swallowed heavily, barely able to focus on your words with his fingers rubbing at your soft skin.

“‘Can you’ what?” He just laughs, he can tell you’re struggling. Your face heats up with embarrassment realizing just how fuck-drunk you already are. And then he just gets the cockiest look on his face. “Oh, you wanna suck my cock? That what this is?” You just nod weakly, you couldn’t deny it if you tried. “Hmm? I can’t hear you, what do you want?”

“I wanna…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna suck your cock, please.” You chewed on the inside of your lip and just looked at him. He felt like he could just about cum from how needy your voice sounded when you said ‘please’.

“Fuck,” his hand slide up your neck and went to the back of your head. “I know you do. Now get on your knees.” His hand tangled in your hair right up against your scalp and he tightened his grip a little, pulling your head back ever so slightly in the process. The way he was talking to you, how he was treating you, all like you were just some object for his pleasure… fuck, it made you wet. If this situation could possibly get any worse from you guys just doing anything at all in the first place, getting turned on from your stepbrother degrading and objectifying you would definitely make it worse. You moaned softly when he pulled your hair as you started to kneel down in front of him slowly, struggling to resist the urge of responding ‘yes, sir.’ When your knees were on the ground and you finally stopped shifting around to get as comfortable as possible you finally realized the position you were in.

You were on your knees in front of your stepbrother about to suck him off…

But at this point, all thought or consideration of morality and shame had long been lost on you. Instead the lewdness of the situation only fueled the fire and part of you was just getting off on how wrong this was. You felt filthy and all it did was make you want to continue. ‘Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?’, would be what you’d typically be thinking. And you were, just less in a self-deprecating way and more in a self-humiliation way. You bite your lip at the site in front of you, Leon’s clothed hard cock in his gray sweatpants. He had noticed how fixated you were and tilted his head at you with a smirk. 

“You want it?” You just stared up at him and moved your hands up to his thighs as you slid them up. “I asked you a question, answer me.” He pulled your hair a little harder this time and you moaned a little louder.

“Yes, wan’ it, Leon, please.” You were completely breathless. It had felt like your mind had turned to mush. You hadn’t even registered his question as a question when he asked, you just wanted to touch him.

“Yeah, I know.” He pushed your head forward till your cheek was pressed up against his cock. “Pretty little cockwhore just wants me inside her.” Your breath quickened when he started grinding up against your face. “Or she just wants to feel me however I please.” His voice was teasing now and he just ground down against you harder.

“However you please, just… Leon, need you.” You barely even sounded like yourself anymore. Normal you would have just pushed him away in the beginning as you made your second-hand embarrassment apparent. Normal you would have known that that was one of the easiest ways to mess with someone and would have totally used it. But here you were instead, a strong-willed smart girl who never pulled any punches now on her knees getting debased completely and absolutely loving it.

“Mmm, you’ll let me use you however I want? What if this is how I wanna do it? What if I just wanna take my cock out and rub it against your face till I cum all over you?” Even in this state you knew he was trying to trap you. He wanted to get you to disagree so he could hear you begging for whatever you really wanted. But you wouldn’t disagree, cause you don’t.

“Even then, just anything you want.” He grinned at your reply. He was tempted, he really was, but after wanting you for so long he wasn’t gonna waste this chance just to prove a point. ‘Next time.’ He pulls your head back just a little so he can see your face. Your lips are slightly parted and you just stare up at him with a grazed over expression.

“Take it out.” He says firmly and raises his eyebrows. You look down at his crotch and bring your hands up to take his dick out of his pants. You feel a sudden sting on your cheek as he slaps you across the face. “No, look at me.” He grabs your jaw and tilts your face up towards his. You make eye contact with him as you start undoing the string on his sweatpants. Part of you wants to look away just so that he’ll slap you again but you don’t. You start pulling his sweatpants and underwear down till his cock swings free. Your eyes dart down to his dick and are only able to just barely register what you’re seeing before he slaps you again just a little harder. “Did you not hear what I said to you? Look. At. Me.” You moan softly and shake your head.

“I heard you, ‘m sorry I was just curious.” You sound a little like you’re about to cry but you’re far from sad about all this.

“You’re curious?” He mocks your voice and pouts his lip before scoffing and leaning down ever so slightly. His thumb caressing your neck. “Don’t worry, once I fuck this little throat you’ll have every answer you could possibly ask for.” You shudder a little before just nodding your head and opening your mouth. You loll your tongue out and he grins. “Yeah, stay like that.” He slaps his heavy tip on your tongue and you can taste the bitterness of his pre-cum. “Open wider.” You obey him and open your mouth further. He leans forward and spits in your mouth. Your eyes flutter and you press your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “You like that?” He laughs and rubs one of his fingers over your tongue. “You like it when I spit in your mouth? Fucking disgusting.” He grips his cock and guides it onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. He groans and holds your head back against the side of his bed before he starts thrusting into your mouth. “Mmm, fuck. Such a good girl with a slutty little mouth. What would your friends say if they knew you’re getting face fucked by your stepbrother, and loving it so much you’re practically dripping onto the floor? What would your mom say?” You really didn’t wanna think about his second question.

“Mmm.” You just hum around his cock in response and he smirked. It’s not like you could actually respond. You kept your eyes on him, loving the way his jaw tightened when he hit the back of your throat. Or the way the muscles in his arms would twitch and flex under his tight shirt. He was right, you did love this and you could feel the discomfort of your sticky panties between your thighs, damp and uncomfortable. His hand went to the top of your head to grip your hair between his fingers and he started pushing in faster.

“Mmh, oh fuck… love sucking on your big brothers cock, yeah? Such a fucking cockwhore it doesn’t matter who it’s from.” He was thrusting at a fervent pace and it was evident he was just chasing his own high. Using your mouth as his personal fleshlight to fuck and fill. It was hot being treated like this, especially by Leon. He tightened his hold on your hair and pushed in a little too far which made you choke. It made slick pour into the gusset of your panties. Fuck, he was right. You’re a total slut. Your hands went up to hold onto his thighs for support as your eyes closed. Spit drooled down your chin and onto your chest, tears poured down your cheeks which Leon took pleasure in wiping away. “Maybe next time you’ll let me fuck that pretty pussy. Bet she’s just crying for me, you are.” ‘Next time?’ The thought made your skin burn with arousal. “Think you’re gonna let me fill up all your holes. Fuck. Yeah, I wanna see that. My obedient little stepsister leaking cum onto my bed, absolutely spent. Such a fucking whore you’d probably ask me to do it again. Fuck your little pussy till it’s sloppy and bred.” 

He wasn’t even looking at you. His head tilted back and his hips stuttered. You could tell he was getting close.

“I’m gonna cum down this slutty throat and you’re gonna swallow it all and thank me.” His face and neck were a little red and he had this sheen of sweat that the light from his lamp bounced off of. He looked like some kind of angel and if he wasn’t aggressively fucking your face you might’ve actually believed he was. “Fuck, oh take it.” He moaned and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. You could feel his hot cum paint stripes into your mouth. He rutted his tip right against the back of your throat while he moaned and mumbled. “Good girl, good girl. Take it, baby.” He pulled back out of your mouth and looked down at you while he stroked himself a few times to make sure he was done. A little bit of cum spilled from his tip and onto your thigh. You could finally swallow now that he was out of your mouth and god it felt good. You opened your mouth to show him that you really did it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him softly and he shuddered at your words. He looked away from you and cursed as his face got red. He was just talking earlier; he didn't think you’d actually do it.

“Quit it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He seemed a little embarrassed. He moved your hair out of your face and went to the bathroom across the hall. You heard water running for a bit and then he came back and kneeled in front of you. He silently used a warm rag to wipe away the dried tears from your face and the little bit of cum that spilled onto your chin. “There you go.” 

“Thank you.” He wiped away the bit that was on your thigh and you guys just stared at each other for a second. It wasn’t really awkward but more like each of you had something to say that you just wouldn’t. 

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was soft and sweet and you had plenty of room to move away if you didn’t want it. There was such a contrast from what you were doing now and what you had been doing, hell, how he was acting with you now and how he had always acted with you; it felt like it was short circuiting your brain, but in a good way. He pulled back and set the rag on his bedside table before picking you up and setting you on his bed. He crawled in next to you and put his arms around you. It felt a little weird but in a nice comforting way. It was something you really needed. You almost forgot that you had been sucking him off—if you could even call it that—like two minutes ago. You really weren’t tired but you laid there with him for who knows how long. 

Maybe you really didn’t hate having a stepbrother.

[writtenbysprout]

Don't cry (over spilt coffee) | Dean Winchester x reader

word count: 1.3k+

pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!reader

tags: angst, bad day, fluff, dean being adorable

The day had started wrong and never quite managed to right itself. From the moment you got out of bed, everything seemed just a little off. First, it was the frustrating, endless search for clean socks that derailed your morning. Then, you stubbed your toe on the edge of the bathroom door. Small, insignificant things, but they piled up, one after the other, wearing you down by degrees.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt like you were barely holding yourself together. The bunker’s halls, usually comforting in their quiet sturdiness, seemed to echo too much today, their shadows stretching longer than usual.

All you wanted was a moment to yourself, a brief reprieve from the weight pressing down on your chest. You found it, or at least tried to, in the kitchen. The simple act of brewing a pot of coffee felt grounding, the steady drip and rich aroma wrapping around you like a familiar hug.

As the pot finished brewing, you reached for your favorite mug—the one Dean had teased you about endlessly when you insisted it was the perfect size, even though it had a small chip on the rim. It wasn’t fancy, but it was yours, and that made it special.

Pouring the coffee, you added the usual splash of cream, stirring it slowly as you took a deep breath. The warmth of the mug against your palms was soothing, the scent promising comfort.

But then, as you turned to head to the table, the mug slipped from your grasp.

It all happened in slow motion. The mug fell, crashing onto the tile floor, coffee splattering everywhere in chaotic streaks. The sound of shattering ceramic echoed in the small kitchen, louder than it had any right to be.

You froze, staring down at the mess. The last thread of control you’d been clinging to snapped. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, spilling over as you sank to your knees.

“It’s just a mug,” you whispered to yourself, the words trembling as they fell from your lips. “It’s just coffee.” But the tears didn’t stop.

“Hey.”

Dean’s voice broke through the haze, soft and laced with concern. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

You hastily wiped at your face with the back of your hand, trying to collect yourself. “It’s fine,” you mumbled, your voice shaky. “I’m fine. Just made a mess.”

Dean crouched down beside you, his green eyes scanning your face. His expression was tender, worry etched into every line. He said you name softly, “this isn’t about the coffee, is it?”

The kindness in his voice, the understanding, was too much. The dam burst, and you let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His flannel smelled like leather and the faint trace of gun oil, grounding you in its familiarity.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “I got you. Just let it out.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of the day finally found release. Dean held you tighter, as if his arms alone could shield you from whatever had driven you to this breaking point.

When the sobs subsided into soft sniffles, Dean pulled back just enough to look at you. His hand brushed a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm and gentle.

“There you are,” he said, offering a small smile. “You with me now?”

You nodded, though your voice was still thick with emotion. “Yeah. Sorry. I just…”

Dean shook his head, silencing you with a look that was equal parts affection and exasperation. “You don’t have to apologize for being human,” he said. “We all have those days.”

He stood, offering you a hand. You hesitated, glancing down at the shattered mug and the coffee pooling around it.

“Dean, I should clean this up—”

“Nope.” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You sit. I’ll take care of it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t stern, exactly—just determined, with a hint of that Dean Winchester stubbornness that you knew better than to fight.

Reluctantly, you let him guide you to one of the stools at the counter.

Dean moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing a towel to mop up the coffee and a dustpan to sweep up the shards of the broken mug. He worked quickly but carefully, his movements efficient.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said softly, watching him from your perch.

Dean glanced up, his green eyes locking onto yours. “Of course I did,” he said simply. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t clean up your spilled coffee and make you feel better about it?”

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t from sadness.

Once the mess was cleaned, Dean washed his hands and turned back to you. “Now, let’s get you a new cup of coffee.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I want—”

“Uh-uh,” Dean interrupted, holding up a finger. “No arguing. You’re getting a fresh cup, and you’re going to sit here and let me take care of you. End of discussion.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “Yes, sir,” you said, mock saluting.

Dean smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

He took extra care this time, pouring the coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar. When he handed you the mug, he stayed close, leaning against the counter as his eyes searched your face.

“Better?” he asked, his tone quieter now, his concern evident.

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into your skin, soothing in a way that went beyond the physical. “Better,” you admitted.

Dean didn’t move right away. Instead, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against your arm.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he said. “About anything. I don’t care if it’s big or small. If it’s bugging you, I want to know.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep fresh tears at bay. “I know,” you said softly. “It’s just… hard sometimes.”

Dean nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your arm. “I get it. Believe me, I do. But you’re not alone, okay? Not ever.”

You set the mug down, reaching for his hand. His fingers laced through yours automatically, the simple gesture grounding you.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Dean leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always,” he murmured against your skin.

As the tension in your chest finally began to ease, you couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly Dean managed to make you feel safe. It wasn’t just the way he took charge or his easy confidence—it was the way he saw you, really saw you, and cared enough to stay when things got messy.

He moved to sit beside you, his hand never letting go of yours. “Alright,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Now that we’ve got the coffee situation under control, how about we take the rest of the night off?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Take the night off? From what?”

Dean grinned, that familiar mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “From everything. No hunts, no research, no worrying about the end of the world. Just you, me, and maybe a bad movie or two.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your chest spreading. “That sounds perfect.”

“Damn right it does,” Dean said, giving your hand a squeeze.

[mingis-orangejuice]

Love and Deepspace Boys with an MC that's good with children Part.3: Rafayel

Summary: Rafayel desperately calls you to help him take care of his little nephew. Rafayel can't stand him but how difficult can one little kid be?

a/n: this one is my fave out of all the fics I've written so far. I love drama queen Rafayel. I made him as dramatic as possible, he's literally jealous of a 5-year-old kid cuz you're giving him more attention. Yep that's my man and imma stick beside him

Genres/Warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

Word count: 1173

Other parts: 1, 2, 4

“So what do you say will you help me pretty please?” Rafayel said from the other side of the call. He had called you to ask if you’d help him with his little nephew. He was stuck taking care of him since his cousin and her husband went off on another spontaneous trip. 

“Fine, as long as you pay double, bodyguards don’t babysit for free.” you joked

“Yeah sure double, I’ll even pay triple if you want just get here quickly!” you heard a crash in the background of the call and Rafayel screaming then he hung up.

You were only joking about wanting payment you didn't really think he would agree to it, but that crash had you concerned. Why was he so desperate for your help? How bad can one little kid be?

At Rafayel’s house, you let yourself in with the spare key. You hear your boyfriend yelling, another small voice laughing and the sound of something breaking. You follow the sound to the living room. The whole room was trashed. Mess everywhere, canvases and brushes on the floor, and paint everywhere even on the ceiling. Did a tornado pass through his living room? You see Rafayel chasing a young boy around the room as he causes more trouble “Rafayel what’s going on?”

“Oh thank goodness you’re here” He stops chasing the boy and runs up to you to greet you with a hug “He’s terrible, he’s destroyed everything in my studio I don't know what to do he just won't stop” Rafayel looked like he was almost about to cry.

“Who are you?” the boy stops in front of you “Are you Uncle Rafi’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I am” You bend down and put out your hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetie, what’s your name?” 

The little boy looks up at you with a big smile, completely enamoured by you “I’m Nate. Are you really Uncle Rafi’s girlfriend you’re way too pretty for him” he looks at Rafayel and sticks his tongue out.

“Hey I'll have you know that she is my girlfriend and she loves me, so there!” Rafayel sticks his tongue out at Nate too.

“Stop it you two.” you flick Rafayel’s forehead “You’re the adult in the situation you shouldn’t let him take advantage of you” you scold him as Nate laughs under his breath

“He started it, plus he doesn’t listen, he’s just a bad kid, we should bring him to an orphanage and leave him there,” he says pointing at Nate while hiding behind you.

You sigh and turn to look at Nate. “Nate, sweetie did you mess with your uncle’s art?” he nodded shyly. “That's not very nice now, is it” This time he nodded no. “you know you’re not supposed to do that right?”

“But Uncle Rafi was being so boring, I wanted to play tag but he just wanted to paint. He said he needed silence for his work so he left me in here alone.”

You turn and look at Rafayel. “Is that true?” He also just nods, looking like he was being scolded by his own mother. “Rafayel you can’t just leave him alone with nothing to do, what did you think would happen, he’d just sit there for hours doing nothing? No wonder he did all this, he was bored. You could have at least given him something to do.”

“I don’t know what kids like to do, that's why I called you. You’re so smart and would know exactly what to do to help your boyfriend in need riiight?” he attempted to flatter you so that you’d help him.

You sigh again. “Ok well, first we have to clean up this mess...” 

“I think you should make Nate clean it up himself, to make him learn his lesson” Rafayel glared at Nate.

You gave Rafayel the “mom death stare” and he quickly shut up “We are all going to help clean and then both of you are going to apologize, ok?” 

They both look at each other and then back at you. “Ok,” they both say. reluctantly

Later after the mess had been cleaned, you three sit on the couch exhausted. You hear a little tummy rumble.  You look to Nate “Oh are you hungry, maybe we should make something to eat” You head to the kitchen and Nate follows behind you holding your hand. Rafayel see this and jumps up from the couch trying to get in between you two. You push him away “Raf seriously, you’re jealous of a 5-year-old?” he looks a little embarrassed then quietly takes your other hand on the way to the kitchen. Nate looks over and sticks his tongue out at Rafayel again without you noticing. 

You guys cook up a nice simple meal for you all to enjoy but it wasn’t easy. Throughout the whole thing, they were both fighting for your attention. Rafayel was constantly giving you little kisses while you were trying to cook and Nate would keep pulling you away to get you to lift him up so he could get different ingredients or so he could sit on the counter. You found the little fight amusing so you let it go on since it was harmless.

You’re now sitting at the table to eat and the rivalry is still going on. “Come on just eat the food” it's healthy” Rafayel begs Nate “You need to eat something”

“No! it's yucky. I don’t wanna!” Nate whined and pushed his plate away from him.

“Nate sweetie, can you please eat all your food? If you do then you’ll become strong enough to be a hunter like me” You said with a smile. Nate instantly listens and shoves spoonfuls of food into his mouth. He’s finished in no time.

Rafayel looks at you in disbelief. How did you get this little brat to listen so easily? After Nate finished eating you got him ready for an afternoon nap. He gladly listened to everything you said while constantly glancing over at Rafayel to make sure he knew that he was only going to listen to you and not him. You put Nate in a bed in one of the guest rooms and waited for him to fall asleep. Right before you and Rafayel left the room Nate sleepyily said “ Uncle Rafi You should marry her I want her to be my new auntie.” 

You both look at each other and then back at him. “That’s the plan” Rafayel looks at you and winks. 

“Good,” Nate says right before he drifts off to sleep

You and Rafayel are now back on the couch, he holds your hand and looks into your eyes. “Hey thanks for today, you were a really big help I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you” 

“You don’t have to pay me, at least not with money.” You kiss him and give him a sly grin 

“Careful if you keep that up we’ll end up making another Nate” he laughed and kissed you.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  DESIRE (THE WANTON SONG)

SUMMARY : dean looks delicious in a suit, that’s it.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : castiel, jack kline 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, p in v, unprotected sex (21 years of prison), car sex, smut, teasing, funnies (but maybe that’s the coffee talking) 

WORD COUNT : 2.8k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. y’all… YALL! Dean’s so hot and I actually had coffee and so that’s why I’m… you know, imagine that this is really, really quickly spoken in your head :D XXXXXX

Was anyone really going to lie or hide the truth about how absolutely ravishing Dean looked in suits?

One thing Y/n knew was that she wouldn't be making that mistake. The only problem with that was that Cas and Jack decided to join them while Sam stayed at the Bunker recovering from a stomach bug with Eileen at his side. 

Should she feel bad for how turned on she was? 

He was just… existing.  

Still, he must know what he’s doing. Placing his hand on her thigh, mindlessly brushing his fingers along the inside as he drove. And he sang. He was singing, playfully. Making her laugh. 

And every time she laughed, he’d squeeze her thigh, and grin at her boyishly. She’d bite her lip, unable to resist his happiness. When they stopped at a red light or a stop sign, he’d lean over, and kiss her cheek, then he’d murmur something sweet into her ear. Her heart would flutter, her breath would hitch, and then he'd press one soft kiss to her lips.

If Cas and Jack hadn’t been in the back seat, she would have grabbed Dean by his tie and pulled him on top of her. That would be dangerous—considering that he’s driving—but, hey, it’s just a daydream. 

She just wanted him, everywhere, like… all over her body. His lips and his hands. His body above hers and his skin moving against hers. God… it was worse than normal, her desire for him. 

He was just so… irresistible. Not just because of how insanely attractive he is. It’s a combination of everything that makes him who he is. Adorable. Kind. Selfless. Brave. Funny. Smart. The list was endless, but every little thing was there, blooming deep in her heart, weaved intricately into her soul, growing hot like a star. At the end of it all, at the farthest edge of everything that she was, it was love built entirely of Dean. 

Her mind was elsewhere. She started to lag behind as they walked into the police station and Dean weaved his fingers through hers to keep her in pace with him. She subtly checked Dean out from behind, broad shoulders, firm ass, hot… all over. She had to resist slapping his ass and grinned to herself at the thought. 

Cas went ahead and started to talk to one of the detectives on the case while Jack looked around aimlessly. Dean pulled her hand to stop her from joining the angel and nephilim. He leaned forward, his nose brushing against her cheek, his lips ghosting over her earlobe, warm breath hitting her neck. 

“You okay?” He asked, pulling away slightly, and looked into her eyes. He held her jaw tenderly and his thumb brushed along her bottom lip, causing her to inhale sharply. A spark from his hand on her mouth made heat rise up her face, but she nodded anyway. “You sure? You’ve been quiet, spacey,” he murmured, leaning forward to brush his lips against her. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered against his mouth. Dean placed a chaste kiss on her lips and kissed her cheek afterwards. 

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, circling his arm around her waist. Dean lead the way to where Cas and Jack were waiting patiently, having quiet conversation with each other. Jack looked confused at whatever Cas was trying to explain to him while Cas looked adorably exasperated. “Let’s go,” Dean smiled at the two of them, walking to where the officers placed the woman they’d just arrested. 

“Actually,” Cas stopped Dean with a hand on his chest. Dean lifted a brow and glanced down at Cas’ hand. “This would be a great opportunity for Jack to learn how to properly interrogate witnesses on cases. You two should take a look at the footage from the mini-mart,” Cas suggested firmly, but he waited for Dean’s approval anyway. 

Dean’s lips parted, he looked down her before looking back at Cas. He crossed his arms over his chest and it was oddly arousing. “You sure it’s not ‘cause you suck at using technology,” Dean teased with a smirk. 

The deadpan expression on Cas’ face made it funnier, somehow. He sighed and stepped closer to Dean, looking down at both their shiny black shoes. “I’m being serious, Dean,” Cas muttered, but Dean had a smug smile on his face that she knew Cas wouldn’t let slide when he looked up into green eyes. “Besides, you couldn’t figure out how to get Netflix to play on the television, Y/n had to do it.” 

Dean might have actually gotten offended. He shut his mouth, a firm line of his lips made those adorable little dimples of his to appear at the upper corners of his mouth. She stifled a laugh, and looked down at her heels, but Dean noticed anyway. Jack was the only one looking away, his gaze fixed across the room where the vending machine was. 

“Agents,” one of the detectives called from the interrogation room, staring at the four of them.

“Whatever,” Dean murmured, turning away from them. He left her there with their friends. She grinned up at Cas and he failed to resist a smile. Blue eyes looked down while she patted his chest as a goodbye before she jogged to catch up with Dean. 

“So,” she tried breaking the ice, hooking her arm around his as they walked to the room where they could watch the footage, “wanna place a bet?” Dean grunted in response, to which she took as a yes. “100 bucks, it’s a shifter,” she offered, letting go of his arm when he opened the door for her to enter first. 

“If it’s anything but a shifter… I get to call the shots on everything we do together for six months,” he said distractedly, beelining to the nearest computer. 

“Uh, no,” she laughed, “one month.” Dean glanced at her, it wasn’t anger, but there was something fiery in those forest greens of his that made her pussy clench around nothing. Her breath hitched, but she hid it with a sniffle. 

“Four months.” There was a finality to his words that made her shiver. She couldn’t disagree, and anyway, Dean’s ideas were never awful. Dean leaned over the table, and started to type away skillfully at the keyboard, giving her time to consider his compromise, before he pulled the video footage up. 

Had he not been waiting for the deal to be sealed with her agreement, she would have dwelled on the wave of arousal flooding between her legs at the sight of him proving Cas wrong about his ability to understand technology. 

She stepped closer to Dean, sitting on the table—very close to him.“Cheater,” she smiled playfully, he knew she’d never fold. Dean looked up at her, one hand on the keyboard, the other on the mouse. “Deal,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. 

Dean immediately let go of the keyboard and mouse to step between her legs and kiss her hard. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the table, and tangled his fingers in her hair. She moaned into his mouth, lewdly brushing her tongue against his when he pushed into her mouth. With a final, hot, firm suck of her tongue, he pulled away breathlessly with a rosy tint on his cheeks. 

She blinked the daze of his hearty lips away, and smiled dreamily, swinging her feet, her heels slipping off her feet slightly as she watched him work. She needed to fuck him, but she forced herself to look away from the pinched concentration of his brows, and the way he chewed on his lip. 

She analysed the video with Dean a few times before switching to other cameras around and within the mini-mart. A few people came in and out, no one remotely suspicious or dangerous, nothing supernatural about them either. 

“I don’t see anything,” Dean muttered, replaying the last video of the inside of the store. He watched it again for good measure. It showed the woman the detectives arrested serving herself a blue raspberry slushie from the machine with a woman standing next to her, asking for a taste.

She leaned the cup over to her lover, or friend, or whatever she was meant to be. She took a sip and they walked together to the register, the man barely paid any attention to them as they spoke. 

“Right there, look,” she told him, Dean raised a brow and rewinded the video. She mischievously ducked under his arms, and placed her hand over his on the mouse, bending over the desk like he was doing so her ass brushed against his crotch. Dean grunted softly, moving away slightly with his hands on her hips. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he whispered, squeezing her hip. She tried to remain composed, as much as she wanted to keep teasing and possibly do more, she genuinely found something.

Ignoring the throb in her clit, she teasingly asked, “uh, hello?” Dean’s hands flexed on her hip and then he pressed himself against her ass, to see what she saw. “You win the bet, it’s a siren,” she pointed out, pausing on the reflection of the monster’s terrifying face.

“Okay,” Dean whispered, letting her stand straight. “At least if it gets to me or you, it’s toxin won’t work,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head. 

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve always been perfect to me, the one person I could lean on, the one person I knew would never lie to me, or do what Sam did… you’re-”

“Reliable, boring,” she finished for him, crossing her arms insecurely. 

“Kind, trustworthy, and good,” he corrected firmly, “you still are, there’s nothing I’m keeping inside, nothing… bad… because you’ve never failed me.” She turned to face him, stomach fluttering, flustered by his steadfast reasonings. 

“I can be stubborn and repetitive,” she reminded him, they’ve been angry at each other a few times in the past. Frustrated is the more correct word for it than angry. She didn’t want him to be wrong, or to end up making him feel bad if it worked on either of them. 

“Caring and empathetic,” he corrected again, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black slacks. He stepped close to her and narrowed his eyes at her self-deprecating words. Oh, wow, she felt small, and hot, and wet. “Stop arguing with me, I’m older than you. That makes me always right,” he tried to lighten the mood, she smiled softly at him, and laughed. 

“You’re right, I don’t think it’s toxin will work,” she agreed despite her doubts. Dean smiled, but tilted his head inquisitively. “You trusted it… or whatever… because it gave you the one thing you wanted most, a family, but now, you’ve got most of what you wanted back then, Sam’s not doin-” 

“I don’t pay for therapy sessions, sweetheart,” he dismissed bashfully, slipping his hands out of his slacks to reach out for her hips and tug her towards him. 

“Uh, well… there’s always sex,” she suggested seductively, locking her fingers together behind his neck. Dean leaned forward, his nose brushed against hers, and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Sex is pleasure, not business, sweetheart,” he murmured. She felt one of his hands fall from her hip, then she felt a rough, arousing spank on her ass. She yelped while he laughed and lifted her back up on the table. “I love you, you know that?” He asked softly, pressing kisses along her jawline. 

“Yes,” she whispered, hooking her fingers on his belt loops to tug him closer between her legs. She wiggled around and got the pencil skirt high enough to let her spread her legs wider for him. Dean finally kissed her, his fingers slowly ghosting along the inside of her thighs, moving higher. 

She moaned against his mouth, impatiently waiting for him to touch her where she needed him most. Dean’s kiss became steamier, he pressed closer into her mouth, tongue slowly gliding over hers. 

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” She mumbled when he panted for breath against her mouth. His fingers finally grazed her wet heat and he groaned, roughly burying a hand in her hair. He tugged at the soft locks of her hair and drew circles around her entrance before sliding his fingers up to her clit. 

“We need to ditch Cas and Jack,” Dean murmured desperately, pulling his hand out from between her legs much to her dismay. Dean kissed her forehead softly. 

“That’s mean,” she pouted jokingly, leaning back with her hands flat on the table. 

“Okay, maybe I won’t ditch them, but… I’ll drop them off at the motel, there’s a place on the way,” he informed her, then sucked his fingers clean of her wetness.

“God, you look fuckable,” she giggled, gazing at him flirtatiously. 

He flushed red—well, redder. “What?”

“It’s not a secret.” She shrugged casually, playing with his bright red tie. It only made him look hotter. Wickedly so. 

“What isn’t?”

“That you look hot in suits,” she laughed, pulling his tie to bring him down for a quick kiss to emphasise her feelings.

“Really? You think so?” He laughed softly against her lips.

“Everyone knows that.” 

“I don’t care about everyone, I’m asking about you.” He bit his lip, amused, and squeezed her thighs. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m ditching them, they’ve got wings,” Dean gave in. He took her hand, pulling her off the table. She quickly fixed her heels and skirt, following him as a zap of excitement coiled up her spine. 

“Let me text them first!”

“Seriously? Here?” She laughed, unbuttoning her shirt as fast as she could while Dean fumbled and removed his belt. Dean stared up at her, smiling from ear to ear, and she rolled her eyes at him halfheartedly. 

“It’s an abandoned mall’s parking lot,” he reasoned, lifting his hips up to shove his boxers and slacks down all at once. “No one’s finding us here,” he reassured her, hands impatiently roaming up her thighs to lift the tight pencil skirt.  

“Like you care,” she teased him, moving forward on her knees.  The cotton blanket he placed covered the leather booth-seat, silencing the typical squeak of leather beneath them. Dean spluttered and shrugged indifferently, pulling her shirt out of her skirt to shove his hands inside her bra, and pulled down so her breasts spilled out. She held the door of the Impala, squeezing hard beside his head, and started to lower herself down on him with her fingers curled around his cock.  

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he closed his eyes, moaning her name softly. Her pussy clenched around him as she gazed down at his face, her heart stuttering in her chest. His eyes fluttered open, and he bit his plump lip, smirking at her—like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Fuck,” she shuddered. Dean brought her closer, depositing wet kisses along her sternum and cleavage, all the while he gazed up at her from beneath his lashes. She could feel herself get wet around him, getting tighter, her breath hitching as she sank down lower and lower, taking every inch of him. 

“You’re hot, too,” he whispered, “in heels, or naked, or in my bed, or… in my car, especially on my dick.” Dean grinned playfully, and cupped her breast, squeezing gently, his calloused palm created delicious friction against her nipple. “You make sexy faces, like the one I just made-”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, circling her hips once she’d sunk all the way down on his cock, his blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of her thigh. 

“Really?” He teased breathlessly, bringing his two hands to her ass to squeeze and then slap roughly. She gasped and dropped her forehead on his, circling her hips excruciatingly slow. “I thought you liked it when I told you dirty stuff when we have sex. You know… like how badly I wanna cum when I see you every morning? It’s true, by the way,” he teased quietly, kissing her jaw, and bucked up into her pussy when she pushed herself up with her hands pressed against the window of the Impala. 

“Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” He asked, brushing her hair away from her face lovingly. “Sure drives me crazy. Ya know… your hot face, the… pretty sounds you make—all of you. The way you taste… all of you. The smell of your skin and your hair. All the dirty things you say.” She moaned softly, and Dean scooted up slightly, panting against her lips as she started to lift herself up and down again on his lap. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered, his hands travelling along her sides. 

“You have no idea how much I love you, Dean,” she laughed softly, cupping his cheeks. She tilted his head up and kissed him long, lips pressed firmly against his to pour every ounce of tenderness and love that flowered inside her heart, connecting the strands of her soul to his, and fusing her burning adoration for him like two colliding stars.

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[thursdayinspace]

Okay, so I wrote a sequel to this one that doesn't hurt! I made them all better! Listen, I love making them sad sometimes, but also I want them to be happy all the time and to have everything they want forever and ever. Soooo here's a ficlet for that. Tagging @today-in-fic

He’s not hers. He never will be. That’s not how it works. He’s not hers and she’s not his, and that’s as it should be.

“Hey,” he says, next to her on the bed, his eyes soft in the early evening light. “You’re far away.”

“I’m right here,” she says, and she is. With him in this moment, because he isn’t hers, but he is here.

His kiss is slow and full of promise and she sinks into it with her eyes closed. She’s mapped his body with her hands and navigates by touch, knows her way to all the secret places that she loves, all familiar routes that guide her home. She stakes no claim on this new land, he isn’t her possession. He is her haven in the storm and her shelter, he’s jagged cliffs and burning desert and dark, starless woods that tempt you off the path straight into peril. He’s her October afternoon, soft blankets and candlelight when rain falls heavily outside.

She’s on her back and he’s above her, unmoving for a moment, and her smile is easy and content, she doesn’t need to make it happen. His eyes hold stories in their depths and so many are about them, dark and tragic, hopeful and not yet over. She doesn’t need his words. He offers them so freely and she takes them for the gift they are. Her own seem so inadequate to her ears, but he takes them with wonder in his eyes and affection in his smile and maybe he understands her like she understands him. If anyone ever has, it’s him.

He’s mapped her too and knows her secret places; he doesn’t hurry as he travels her body with his lips. Down and down, he knows where he wants to go, and she’s ready, always ready, waiting for him eagerly. He opens her with his tongue and sighs against her, so content, like he has finally arrived. His mouth is skilled and hungry. He parts her thighs wider to expose her completely, and she fists her hands in his hair as he licks at her eagerly like he’s the one receiving pleasure from this. He’s sworn to her that it’s true.

It feels amazing and she loses track of time. She’s surfing on the waves of arousal that crest higher and higher until her thighs clench and her toes curl and her hips rise off the bed. She comes with a cry, flooding his tongue, and he grips her tighter, presses in closer, and laps at her like a starving man. He doesn’t stop until she pushes his head away weakly, whispering his name, her heart racing.

His cheek is resting on her thigh when the world swims back into focus. He looks very pleased with himself.

“Good?” he asks.

“Oh god.” She laughs. “Do you really have to ask me that?”

The happiness on his face is everything. She doesn’t remember the moment she made it her goal to put it there as often as she could. He’s been smiling a lot more lately.

It’s hard to comprehend sometimes how much she wants him. Hers is a world of science, of facts. This can’t be quantified. Even if there were a scale, it would be useless. If there were rules, they wouldn’t apply. There is no limit and there are no conditions, there’s only him, and he is infinite, he’s everywhere. In everything she sees and feels there is a part of him because their lives have touched and blended, and should they ever separate, a part of him would stay behind. He’s not hers. But he’s a part of her.

She welcomes him back into her arms and he leans in for a kiss. She can taste herself on his tongue. She is a part of him too.

There’s no resistance as he sinks into her. The stretch is welcome and familiar, her body knows him, needs him. His hips move with intent, with purpose, no hesitation, no reason to hold back. And she brings her legs around him and holds him close.

He’s not hers, but he gives himself to her, wholly and completely. He gives himself not as a thing to posses but as a companion, a partner, a home. His heart is in her hands as a loan, and she will keep it safe until he wants it back. His words, his eyes, his touch tell her it’s hers forever, but only time will tell them if that’s true. She’s given him her heart in return. She can’t imagine ever asking for it back.

The presence of him as he moves inside her still overwhelms her. The look on his face, the warmth of his body, the sound of his moans. She’s out of her box, and maybe it was always her who kept the lid closed, maybe it was always him who tried to let her out. The walls are shattered and the universe is rushing in on her, on them. It doesn’t scare her anymore.

Words are on his lips and she doesn’t look away. Her hands are on his back and she feels his muscles working under his skin as he rocks into her hard, over and over. He’s taking what she gives, and she lets him lose himself in her.

“Scully,” he breathes.

She leans up to kiss her own words onto his lips while he searches for his voice. “More,” she whispers, and knows he catches every meaning of the word.

His forehead touches hers as he shifts between her legs before he thrusts in hard, harder than before, and she throws her head back and gasps out her pleasure. “Like this?”

“Yes,” she says, and loses herself in him as he fucks her like he knows her.

Her orgasm is different with him—she holds nothing back. The sounds she makes, the look on her face, the desperate way she claws at him. She cannot hide from him, she has no protection. And she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care. He’s seen her dying, seen her bruised and beaten, held her sobbing in his arms. There are no secrets between them anymore, no shame.

She lets go, his name falling from her lips, a cry of pleasure and a prayer. He’s here, not hers, but with her. And she comes with her whole body, with him deep inside her, and she’s wild, ravenous, her tensing muscles burning as he makes her come alive with pure and perfect bliss.

When he comes inside her she clings to him, rides it out with him, her body still pulsing with the memory of her release.

And she is no longer waiting for the bee to sting.

He raises himself up on his forearms to look at her face, meet her eyes, his cock softening inside her, and at last he finds his voice.

“I love you,” he says, and she doesn’t need to believe. She knows.

“I love you too.”

They don’t need to pretend. Maybe there’ll be an end one day, but the universe is eternal and so are they, a part of each other, and this she does believe: there’s always a way.

He lies next to her and takes her hand, and for now, they’re home.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡 (𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

"I love you." And then he froze. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

tags: angst, anxiety, depression, drugs. word count: 810

0:31

Carmy often complained about how his apartment felt like a asylum, the closest thing to hell. Everything seemed out of place, disorganized, meaningless. Empty.

He needed to redecorate.

The bookshelf looked like something you'd find in a junkyard, piled high with trash. His clothes were scattered everywhere, shoes flipped upside down. The smell of his sheets and the clothes he had worn for days, even though they were past the point of being clean. Sometimes, the plumbing would fail, and he'd have to shout in frustration and accept yet another day without a shower.

01:29

He needed to move.

None of this felt real, normal. His parents fought constantly, his siblings complained, and his entire life seemed better on the other side.

He, himself, seemed better outside.

Everything looked perfect from the outside, with his talent and all the praise he received, even amidst the constant chaos of the restaurant—the shouting, the fights that made him roll his eyes. Nothing made sense.

2:00 AM

He needed a new life.

You: Carmy, I’m sorry. I fell asleep.

Her message interrupted his spiraling thoughts, forcing him to swallow hard and regain his composure.

Carmy: It’s fine. Don’t worry. I was still awake.

You: What happened?

The message glowed on his screen, read only a few minutes ago. She was waiting for a response, nervous, in another city. Just as messy as he was.

Carmy: Same old crap. Don’t worry about it.

He replied, breathing heavily, massaging his temples. His hair was a mess, as it always was in his usual chaos. He looked so beautiful, even in the disarray.

I should get therapy.

02:45

Carmy: One day, I’ll get out of here. One day, I’ll change all of this. I need you. I’m sorry for this.

You: Don’t apologize. Everything will be okay, one day. For both of us.

And so, another night passed. The day came and went, and the night lingered longer than it should. Like a torment that never quite leaves. Chef, Sugar, Mom, Sydney, Jimmy, Richie, Mike. What was wrong?

It was all so confusing, even the cars in Chicago seemed to move slower through his fogged mind. His head felt submerged underwater, the lack of oxygen warping his nervous system. Anxiety. How much air does someone need to stay afloat?

I should quit smoking.

"You know, I’ve always hated smokers," she started, her voice soft, a faint laugh following her words.

Carmy glanced at her, subconsciously lowering his cigarette as guilt weighed in his eyes. "If it bothers you, I can stop…"

"I’d look at those people with disgust, judging them, like I was better than them," she continued, her gaze distant, a sad smile tugging at her lips—one Carmy had learned to appreciate, despite its melancholy. She was broke, like him."I was so stupid. They didn’t deserve that."

"So what made you change your mind?" he asked, hesitant.

"I didn’t," she added, drawing a laugh from him. "Cigarettes are terrible, but at least they’re not as miserable as vaping or using needles."

"To the classics," he joked, raising his cigarette like a champagne glass, placing it poetically between his cracked lips, the cold air and dehydration of the night evident.

"But..." She took a breath, the warmth of her exhale mixing with the cheap cocoa butter on her lips. "You’re the only exception."

He smiled weakly. Her hair bounced as she looked at him, golden curls, eyes a deep blue—matching the sorrow of the world reflected in his tired gaze. Carmy was angelic, celestial. No image or sculpture could truly capture his beauty. That pure innocence, which wasn’t sensual but somehow carried desire.

"Thank you." He smiled, finishing his last drag before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. "But I really should quit. I’m just using it as a crutch."

"I can’t judge you. I buy expensive skincare, thinking it’ll make up for a good night’s sleep and healthy food." She joked, and he laughed—just for a second, everything felt right. "Carmy."

"What?" He looked at her, the neon lights from The Bear shining on her face. Two dreams collided in that moment, competing for space in his heart. Drowning in the blue glow of the city’s decorations.

"I love you."

And then he froze. Like the storm inside him had suddenly calmed, as if he were floating on still waters. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. The world stopped. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

"I love you too. A lot."

When he was with her, everything felt perfect. This was where he wanted to be. For the first time, he didn’t want to run from himself anymore, because she was there to embrace his mess. And that was what made Carmy Berzatto, Carmy.

taglist:

@aquazero divider

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Bucky deserve your Happily Ever After, and something tells you that you’re going to get it. It doesn’t matter what you face. If you have Bucky by your side, you know you’ll get through it.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: this won't a bit (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: this is something short to give you an update on their lives after the events of the entire story. thank you to everyone who loved this series! i had a lot of fun writing it <3

x

You pinch the two fabrics together and slide the pin to keep them together. You take another pin and hold it between your lips before finding another loose spot to pin together. Bucky stands in front of you watching as you work effortlessly on the suit you’re tailoring to his body. He parts his lips when he sees you take the pin out of your mouth to use it on his suit. You lick your dry lips and Bucky shifts in an effort to hide his arousal.

“Would you stop moving? I’m going to poke your skin and you’ll bleed.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve bled for you.”

“Okay, well, get blood on these clothes and I’m going to kill you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods.

“Okay, last pin. This won’t hurt a bit.”

You slide the last pin into place and look up at Bucky with a certain glimmer in your eyes.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll get more than blood on these clothes.”

“You’re vulgar,” you gasp and step back.

“You love it.”

“Well, I’m finished now. I’ve recorded my progress and you can take the suit off.”

Bucky steps off the small platform to do just that, and you walk to the double glass doors that lead out to the balcony. You lean on the railing and admire the Eternal City below. Italy. The place you fell in love with since Bucky first took you here. Now you live here and get to do the one thing you’ve aspired to be growing up: a fashion designer. It’s been a year since the incident with Gio but the trauma is still there. You can’t go anywhere without Bucky because you fear you’ll get kidnapped and experience something similar or worse.

Bucky has given you everything you could ever hope to want and need. You don’t have to work since Bucky takes care of you financially. Two months ago, he took you to Paris and gave you a million dollars to spend on whatever you wanted. He truly spoils you even though you don’t need all of that to be happy. You could be in a one-bedroom apartment with an overpriced rent fee and be just as happy. This is what makes Bucky happy so you’ll take it as long as he wants to give it.

Shortly after moving to Italy, you opened your first studio and started making clothes you hope to see in stores soon. The only thing Bucky has provided you with is a studio. Everything else is coming from you which is exactly what you want. You want to look at your clothes and know that it all came from you.

After changing back into a t-shirt and jeans, Bucky walks onto the balcony barefoot. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach, and you lean back with a smile.

“We should get home. Brute and King are waiting for us and if you keep leaving them alone, they’ll ruin yet another couch. The old one had claw marks everywhere on it.”

“Not my fault they have separation anxiety,” you laugh.

Bucky turns you around and scoops you into his arms, and you wrap your arm around his neck for support.

“Come on, Mrs. Barnes. We have a home to get to.”

“We’re not married… yet. Only one month to go.”

“And a short month it will be.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Barnes.”

And he does all the way home and right back into his heart where you belong.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[calaisreno]

Couple

865 words / Prompt: Imperfect

“We’re not—” John begins, but realises the futility of saying it again. 

“You’re a lucky man.” Hopkins winks at him. “I’d make a play for him myself, but he’s obviously taken.”

He watches her walk away while he stands at the bar, waiting for another pint. She’s just the kind of woman he once would have hit on. A fun flirtation. 

Now he doesn’t have the energy. And he’s wondering when that happened.

Sherlock is watching him. 

He should be used to it by now. People always assume they’re a couple, and really, he doesn’t mind so much. He’s stopped saying he’s not gay because it’s misleading, and he would rather be honest. But it’s nobody’s fucking business who he is.

Sherlock must know. God, they’ve known each other for years, lived together for months now, since he and Rosie moved back. They’re practically co-parenting, and often exchange the same weary look that only the parents of a toddler can wear. 

But Sherlock looks sad, he thinks. If John is honest with himself, he’s a bit worried that Sherlock is tired of the John-and-Rosie show, the trail of destruction Rosie leaves everywhere she toddles. The cases always used to bring them together, and now, even if they have a babysitter, John’s often too exhausted to go out with him. 

Even this, a night out with the Yarders, Rosie at home with Mrs Hudson, is less fun than John had hoped. Sherlock doesn’t care for pub nights, but he tags along because John presses him to be more social. 

He moves towards Sherlock, who’s sitting on the periphery of the noisy group. People don’t socialise with him much. Even the women who look at him with appreciation give up after a brief exchange. Sherlock can manage social occasions when necessary, but he’s clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

He slides into the seat opposite. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Why?” Sherlock gives him a sharp look. “So I could watch Lestrade’s team get pissed?”

“No, I’m glad because… I like being with you.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rise. He gives an amused huff. “You live with me.”

“Yeah, I do. But at home there’s always some mess to clean up or Rosie to deal with. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t your favourite thing.”

“I don’t mind.” His mouth curves into a smile. “I like being with you, too.” 

John nods, takes a swallow of beer. “Stella was just making the usual assumption. We look like a couple. And I was wondering, are we?”

“Are we a couple?” Sherlock’s face does something complicated: surprise, discomfort, and then careful indifference. “People are idiots.”

“I don’t care about people. I care about you. Does it bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Because you don’t… I know you care about me and Rosie, but you don’t do…” The word is on the tip of John’s tongue, but he’s looking into Sherlock’s eyes, feeling completely obvious.

“Romance,” Sherlock says. “It’s a medieval construct, John, an idealisation of a reality that is often messy and contentious. People fall in love and marry; they run headlong into disappointment and divorce. I abhor the idea that we must put on blinders and pretend everything is perfect. It’s not, and never has been.”

John feels his heart sink a bit. “Yeah, you’re right.” He touches the side of his pint glass, watches the condensation run down. 

He’s thinking about his own failed marriage. He’d loved the idea of Mary, an escape from the past, the possibility of a future with a person who loved him. He’d built an idealised life in his head, and it hadn’t taken long for him to realise how mistaken he’d been. The night Mary died, he’d planned to talk with her, tell her what he’d realised about himself. He didn’t know where that would take them, but it had to be said. He’d only delayed because of Sherlock’s text.

“Love,” Sherlock continues, “has nothing to do with romance. It’s not perfect. It’s a decision, one we keep making because it’s important.”

Their eyes meet. John is looking up into Sherlock’s face, remembering when he said, we might all just be human. “Important. To you?”

“Yes.”

The group is suddenly louder, laughing and jeering at some remark. No one is looking at him and Sherlock. 

Those grey eyes are still gazing at him.

“Love is important, John. I know I don’t often express sentiment, but I do feel it. I do love you.”

At the look on John’s face, Sherlock’s smile turns to something sadder. 

“I adore you and Rosie, and I love the messiness of living with you. I don’t want a perfect life. I want you. I want us.”

“So, you’re saying… you want us... to be a couple?”

“We already are, John. What that means is up to us. Do you want more than what we have?”

“God, yes.” The words are out of his mouth before he thinks them. “I do. Want you. If you…?”

“Yes.” Sherlock is smiling now, a full, bright smile that practically lights up the room. 

John leans closer. “I love you too, Sherlock.” 

The kiss is messy and imperfect. And glorious. Nobody’s watching.

[aajjks]

The price of Love (II)

synopsis. they say the price of love is dangerous, but jungkook would pay anything to buy your love, at any cost.

warnings. Yändêrê thěměs, öbsëssïön, därk thěměs, crèèpy, änxïêty, öbsëssïön ät fïrst sïght.

pairing: Yandere sugar daddy!jungkook x sugar baby female!reader

viewer discretion is advised, yandere stuff can be very triggering so read at your own risk, also let’s remember that this is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl.

note. Hello hello. SHARE FEEDBACK PLEASE AND IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, JUST REPLY UNDER THIS POST ONLY REPLY TO THIS POST.. THANK YOU ENJOY AND REMEMBER TO SEND ASKS FOR TPOL JK OR CHARACTERS.

part one x

Yerin was going to be dead meat.

You were definitely going to kill her, “i had a good time with you- yn is it?” The man’s voice pulls you out of your murderous thoughts, you blink and regain your focus on him.

“Ahh I’m so glad, Mr Jeon… I had fun too..” you give him a kind smile, “I’m sorry if i was too awkward… I just didn’t know we’d have to be alone together- and celebrate your birthday.”

Jungkook, the mysterious man gives you an amused look once again, you wonder to yourself, what’s so amusing about you?

“just call me Jungkook.”

“I didn’t mind it honestly… i got to know you.” He’s so blunt, you inhale, trying to stop your cheeks from heating up. You look around, everywhere but him.

“That’s kind of you.. haha..” you bite your lip, looking all over the luxurious interior of the restaurant. “Was the food up to your liking, yn?”

“Oh are you kidding me? This was the most delicious meal I’ve ever had in my life- i mean it was delicious.” Jungkook looks at you with his full attention.

“You are a very unique person yn.” He remarks suddenly and you feel so small under his heavy gaze.

He just means to say that you’re so cringey yn.

“Umm thank you..” you push your hair back, you feel so nervous.

“Well it’s getting late… and i have an early shift tomorrow so… allow me to leave?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond but raises his eyebrow, almost looking disappointed but maybe you’re reading too much into his expressions.

“Sorry, I meant to say that I should leave now… I hope you don’t mind?” You immediately correct your sentence and just keep on smiling lightly.

Hey stands up, without replying, “yes I know that actually but it would be really impolite of me to let you go alone at this hour, so allow me to drop you.”

“please?”

How does he even know that?

that’s the first thing that you mind registers, but as you watch his expressions soften, and a small smile on his lips, you give in.

Well, I would appreciate that because it’s really late and it would be hard for me to find an Uber… I appreciate it, J-Jungkook?”

The mans smile immediately widens, and his eyes shine.

Now he looks kind of cute.

“After you my lady.”

He was not as worse as you thought he was.

His company was actually really comfortable as you sit in his car and he drove, light conversation was actually very nice but his aura remained dominant and Intense.

You weren’t the one to shut up, but in his presence, you could barely speak without feeling nervous.

You just kept and answering his questions, playing with your fingers to ease your nerves. It was hard for you to maintain eye contact with him because he was just such an intense person for you.

Intense is the only way you can describe him.

Well, you don’t talk much do you?” Jungkook halts the car and focuses on you once again, you almost gasp in surprise, you were already home.

“oh, it’s nothing like that. Maybe I’m just tired but thank you so much seriously.” Jungkook nods his head. “hold on don’t leave yet.

You stop your movements.

It takes you by surprise when he suddenly asks you to not leave. You wait for him to say anything else but he gets out of the car.

You sit in silence and patiently wait.

“is everything all right?” You ask him when he opens your door for you, concern is all over your face and he notices it but he doesn’t say anything, but offers his hand to you.

“Just trying to be polite and maybe… charming.”

That makes you laugh as he gives you a shy smile.

“I appreciate that.” You hesitate to give him your hand, but then you look at him and do it.

“I really enjoyed my time with you tonight.” he makes a conversation again as you walk towards your home. You feel his eyes all over you, but it doesn’t creep you out.

He’s not looking at you like you are a piece of meat. Instead his Eyes are fixated on you, like you are of the jewel of the most precious crown in the world.

That is the only way you can describe it, even though it sounds so cliché.

“Honestly, thank you. I don’t know I guess I am too much to handle but I’m glad you enjoyed my company..” “But I swear to God, I am- oh I don’t even know why they couldn’t make it?”

Jungkook hums along as you finally stop. “I’m here now and I know I’ve said thank you so so many times but I… appreciate you for dropping me home.” Do you think the man for the nth time.

“when you absolutely didn’t have to, and you didn’t even let me pay for the meal.. thank you.”

Jungkook crosses his arms to his chest, his biceps flex effortlessly, the white shirt, makes him look so good as you finally notice him under the street lights.

The long locks on him looks so good.

He is a very attractive man maybe that’s why you’re so nervous around him, well, that’s not entirely the only reason he’s pretty famous around your country too, and he’s literally a billionaire.

How did you get so lucky?

“if you are checking me out, I don’t mind at all.”

There you go feeling embarrassed as he points you staring out.

“could I please have your number? I think I would like to see you again if you don’t mind….” he doesn’t waste the opportunity to ask for your phone number.

He really isn’t shy.

“Umm.. I… are you sure because I think I should let you know something..”

You inhale and exhale deeply

“I am so sorry but I don’t- I’m not really looking for romance right now.. as much as I enjoyed the dinner with you, I only came there because of my friend…”

maybe you were too honest about this, but he needed to know, “ trust me I get that.”

His smile doesn’t falter at all, “I appreciate your honesty but don’t worry I’m not looking for something so serious too… but I think I like you already..”

He is standing there looking at you, his smile makes him even more attractive, “ oh really well that’s great we could be friends..”

He stalks closer to you, and takes out his phone.

“so?”

“Oh right, well it’s ____________”

“OK now I should really go. Goodbye Jungkook.” The guy waves and waits for you to go inside of your home. He dials another number in his phone after typing your phone number.

And smiles to himself.

“oh, I know exactly what to do.”

Everything was going in his favor, just like he had wanted.

[avochele]

The Idol - Ruby Red.

tags. idol!woozi x idol!oc, fluff, angst

headquarter.

chapter 1.

synopsis. In wich a girl has a way too personal connection to a ceiling fan and in wich people need to learn that not everything is what it appears to be.

“People desire me. Because of red. Especially men. I became an object of desire. An object of love. An object that was made through the colour of red. I am red.”

warnings. toxic fans, obsession, anxiety, objectification(?), stalking, blood, obsessive crazy and toxic fans, oc is a simp for woozi (but honestly who isn't?), both are hopelessly in love and too dense to notice, I have no idea how recording a song or being an idol works so please excuse my messy excuse of a song production etc., obsessive fan incidents inspired by tvxq's sasaeng incidents (because no one in their right mind could come up with stuff like that) (more will be added if needed.)

note. Blame my impatience for the irregular updates. sorry.

Red. Everything is red. I don’t like red. Haven’t liked it for 6 years.

I’m sure I did like it at some point. I can’t remember. I should like red. Red is my business in a way. It’s my job. Red made me successful. Popular. Famous.

But I don’t think it makes me happy.

For the longest time I noticed something missing. I cannot pinpoint the exact moment when. But I have been feeling like I’m in a void. A void of nothingness. Except for the red specks everywhere.

There should be more. I should be happy. But I am not.

The fan above my bed buzzes softly as it blows cool air onto my skin. They told me to get an AC. I didn’t. I like the sound of the fan. It calms me. It has been there since I moved in and it has not once failed me. I don’t see a point in getting rid of something that lacks in nothing but age. If it does its work - and that it certainly does - why replace it.

I shouldn’t be having such a personal connection to a ceiling fan.

I open my eyes. The red is gone. The blowing air causes my eyes to tear up momentarily, causing me involuntarily to look in another direction but up.

I see a white furball laying at the end of my bed. Next to me. Not quite out of reach. I could stretch my arm and feel her soft fur. But I don’t. I don’t feel like moving.

I like my job. I like what I do. I am one of the few people on this earth who were able to fulfil their dream. And I would never change this for anything. It’s just the red that bothers me.

I reach for my phone. The case. Red. Like everything else. It was the details that made me become the Idol I am today. The small parts that were red. That were sensual. That were exciting. That were loving.

People desire me. Because of red. Especially men. I became an object of desire. An object of love. An object that was made through the colour of red. I am red.

The sheets under me rustle as I sit up. Marie’s tail moves over the white sheets. The white curtains - that look almost beige because of the setting sun - stop the light from travelling further into the room.

It’s 8pm. I should be heading out soon. I’m working late today. They gave me midday off. I was at the company yesterday until the middle of the night. I came back at around 3 am and today won’t be any different.

I like the late practice hours. The moments when only a few people are in the building. When it’s quiet. Almost so quiet that I miss the buzzing of my fan in my room.

They have an AC in the building. I like my fan.

I get up. My Bag with my stuff stands next to my door, seemingly waiting for me to pick it up. I’m driving to the company alone today. I’ll be meeting my manager there. She told me to be there in time. I’m already running late.

I tap my freshly manicured fingers on the steering wheel. Dark cherry red with golden accents. I like them. They're pretty, if it weren’t for the red. It isn't as bad as other reds. Not as striking as others. But red. Still. I’d love it. If it weren’t red.

The traffic light shines in a neon light inside my car. Painting everything an anxiety inducing colour.

It’s the colour I'm used to the most. The striking red that fills the stage as soon as I’m about to enter. It’s the colour I hate the most.

The red changes colour and the cars start moving again. Out of reflex I look into the rear-view mirror. Nothing suspicious yet. But they could be anywhere. The people that call themselves my fans but do nothing to make it seem like they are.

There were incidents. People had followed me. People found out where I live. People sent me packages. All kinds of packages. I don't like the packages. Not because of the striking red they are always wrapped in but because of the red inside.

I’d be alright as soon as I arrive in the parking garage under the Hybe Building. It’s only six minutes away now.

Another red light. I check the time on my phone. I am late. I had expected it and texted Taeja. She hadn’t responded but she read it. I know she did. She never really answers. She’s not a big texter.

I drive into the garage. The fluorescent light flickers for a moment before it shines on the few cars still there. I drive by Taeja’s car and park right next to the elevator. That way I don’t need to walk that much when I leave again.

A few metres away stands another car. I’ve seen it a lot. It’s always there when I come and it’s always there when I leave again. I don’t know who it belongs to.

The hallway is long and dark. I like these Hallways. No trace of colour. Just pure and grave grey or black. I enter the practice room Taeja said she’ll wait in.

The room is quiet. Taeja stands right next to the mirror that takes on almost one part of the whole wall. She types something on her phone.

The backup dancers are sitting all over the room on the floor. I have known some of them since the beginning. Many of them have changed agencies since my debut. Just a handful stayed.

I consider them my friends. Even though we never really met outside the company. I’m happy they stayed. At least that hasn’t changed.

Even though the way they view me might have changed. But that’s for my old me to worry about. Everyone changes. And so do I.

“I thought you’d be even later.” She says as she puts her phone on the small stand next to her. “Traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought.” I say, putting my bag next to the door.

“Have you eaten anything?” She always asks that. I don’t blame her. “Yeah. I had TakeOut earlier.” I answer her.

She nods satisfied and claps her hands. “Then shall we start?”

The room is dark. The only light in the room comes from my computer and the sunset lamp in the corner. My friend got it for my birthday.

He’s been in my studio more times than I can count and he’s always been complaining about it not being cozy enough.

Next to the lamp hangs a printed picture that takes over a good fourth of the wall. It’s me on stage at Coachella. I like the picture. Even though the lightsticks make me look like I'm standing on a red ocean.

I’m not surprised they gave me the red one.

I tried making my studio not so red. I think that’s why Seungkwan gave me the sunset lamp. It’s not red. It’s more like a golden orange but still fits my vibe I suppose.

I like it. The plant under the picture lets its leaves hang a little. I don’t know what to do about it. I tried everything. Even talked to it. My best friend said that might help. It didn’t.

I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for a good forty minutes now. Staring at the small symbols.

I don’t know how this works. I should get Beomju to check it over.

I close the file.

I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling. It’s coloured in orange light. The water bottle rustles slightly as I pick it up from my desk.

My phone says 2am. I lean forward and send the file to Beomju. The track is almost finished, just needs to be filed to perfection. This is for Beomju to worry about. He knows what the company likes. I don’t feel like putting up with that now. I text him that I’ve sent it to him. Close my phone and get up.

My dark red zip up sweater lays carelessly on my couch together with my bag. The rhinestones on it shine mindlessly in the orange light. I grab it and turn off the light.

The way back to the garage is quiet. I lean against the elevator wall and close my eyes for a moment. The slight rumble of the elevator keeps me from banging my head against the wall. I pull my black cap down a little.

The door opens and white fluorescent light flickers as I step out into the cold parking lot. The garage is almost empty now. Besides my own car there is only the one that's always there.

My steps are the only thing being heard in the empty garage. I open the passenger door and throw my bag onto the seat.

As I walk around it to get to the drivers side the elevator door pings open again. I look up not having expected another person to come down this late.

A guy around my height leaves the elevator. He’s wearing a cap that hides his dark, seemingly long hair, a black shirt that looks a little too big on him but at the same time too tight to conceal anything around his shoulder and chest area and black sweatpants.

He holds a grey sweatshirt in his hand together with his phone. The other one reaches to unlock his car. It’s the car in front.

My hand still lays on the door handle when he looks up. He looks at me and my heart jumps a little.

Red. Everything seems red all of a sudden. I don’t know what happend. But when he looked at me my chest turned warm. The heat creeping up my neck.

I stared. I stared goddamn much. And he noticed.

He smiles at me and bows slightly. Still with my hand on the door handle I lower my head a little. An attempt at a relaxed bow.

I’ve seen him before. Multiple times. Many times actually. Why does it feel so different now? Because I’m not on stage? Pumped with adrenaline? Because he’s not with Seungkwan? Or Minghao? Joshua? Or anyone I know?

What is happening?

I’m still staring. I turn to my car and open the door before scrambling to put my sweater on.

My face is still burning red. And I hope for everything that he doesn’t notice.

I bow one last time without looking at him and hurry to get into the driver's seat. I’m not sure if I trust myself enough to immediately leave. So I scramble to make it look like I’m busily doing something on my phone.

I connect the speakers to my phone. I type in the navigation. I type a message but am really just trying to get him to leave first.

His car lights blind me for a second and then he goes driving right by me. I see his backlight. And then he’s gone.

Everything's still red. A deep shade of red. I lean back and knot my hand through my hair.

Close my eyes. Open them again. Still red.

Damn you Woozi for making me see red.

TAGLIST. @readerwonnie @thepoopdokyeomtouched @berriebeetles @rvebyntvr

This work will be simutaneously posted on my Wattpad [click here.]

©AVOCHELE, 2024

All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a story review.

[malum-forev]

has miscommunication for the bingo been taken? if not, can i request that one with bucky?

Hiii thank you so much for your ask! ❤️‍🔥 Here's what I came up with!

*

Miscommunication 

BrothersBestFriend!Bucky x Reader

Cold. That was the perfect word to describe Bucky. Distant came in second place, followed by calloused, mysterious, brooding and lastly, your brother’s best friend. Although you were only two years younger than your brother, Bucky always saw you as the pestering little sister. Even now when you were out of college and living in the same city as your brother and his group of friends. 

You had fixed your hair and worn a tight dress your brother would certainly not approve of but if it were up to him, you would wear a full body sack of potatoes to the club. You walked down the hallway of the apartment you shared with your brother but stopped before you got to the living room, you heard voices. You placed your back flush against the wall.

“Can you quit being an asshole? Try, for one day.” You heard Sam whisper.

“Why does she have to follow us everywhere we go?” Bucky groaned. “If I wanted that, I would have bought a dog.”

Steve shushed the brunet. “She’s one of our best friend’s sister, you can’t say that!”

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” Bucky’s words hurt, a feeling of embarrassment burned your being. You felt the edges of your eyes prickle.

“We think she’s nice.” Sam said. “She’s funny and tells us childhood secrets about our friend, like that time she told us he got caught sneaking out of a girls window and broke his arm during the fall! What more can you ask for?”

“Well I think she’s immature.” Bucky drove the knife deeper.

You brought your hand up to your mouth to muffle your gasp, the tears falling from your face. Your brothers door opened so you quickly wiped your face and gulped down your feelings. 

“Not to sound like mom but, we know you’re a girl, you don’t have to show everyone at the club.” He laughed, pointing at the short hem of the dress. “You ready to go?”

You offered your brother a smile. “I think I’m going to sit this one out, I just got my period.”

He made a disgusted face before peeking into the living room. “Hey guys, it’s just us this time.”

“Fuck.” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, knowing you’d heard every wretched word you’d said. 

--

The next weeks were filled with apologies to your brother, flaking on plans and making up late nights working. 

“Have you thought about talking to HR?” Your brother’s voice said through the speaker on your phone. “I don’t think it’s normal for your boss to make you work late again. It’s the third time this week!”

You hiked your tote bag up your shoulder. Trying to balance your takeout on one hand and your phone pressed to your ear was proving to be a difficult task. You sighed of relief as you turned the corner to your street. 

“Yeah, I should but I don’t want to get on my boss’ bad side.” You expertly lied. Of course you felt guilty lying to your brother but what else could you do? They were his friends after all and Bucky made it clear you weren’t welcome. Plus, you’d been tagging along for far too long. 

“Call me if you get off early, yeah?” He said. “We’re going to go bar hopping and you deserve a drink!”

You kept your eyes on the steps of your apartment complex as you climbed them. “Yep, I’ll let you know when I leave the office.”

“You tell them they can shove their extra hours up their ass-“ You heard Sam yell over your brother.

You chuckled as you searched through your bag for your keys, two more steps and you’ll be home- your feet bumped into another, a combat boot wearing pair of feet you recognized instantly. 

“Oh shit.” You muttered, your eyes traveling from the black boots to the tight black jeans up towards a red Henley. Ocean blue eyes looked straight into your soul. Busted. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your brother asked.

“Everything’s fine, I’m fine just- it’s an Excel emergency. Got to go, call you later.” You hung up quickly.

“Late night at work?” Bucky raised his eyes at you. “Excel emergency?”

“Don’t even.” You sighed as you pushed past the beefy man, unlocking your apartment. 

“May I come in?” Bucky asked, hands resting on the doorframe.

You rolled your eyes, setting all of your things down. “You’ve been here a million times, you don’t need to ask to come in.”

“I’ve been here with your brother.” He emphasized the word. “Never as your guest.”

“I wouldn’t call someone who was waiting at my door a guest.” You mumbled, eyeing the man who still hadn’t entered your apartment. “What are you? A vampire? You need to be invited in?”

“Only one way to find out.” His smile was wicked as he dragged his boot across the bottom of the door. 

You considered letting him burst into flames, maybe he was a vampire. That would be one reasonable explanation as to why he’s a dick. 

“You can come in.” You said, taking your food and setting it in front of the TV. “Only if you promise to be quiet while I watch Vanderpump Rules.”

“I never thought of you as the lying type.” Bucky closed the door behind him and watched as you started eating dinner. “You were supposed to be a good girl.”

“You’re already breaking the first and only rule I gave you.” You shushed him. 

“You have no idea how badly I want to break the rules.” Bucky muttered to himself. 

You paused your show. “You’re not going to be quiet so, why are you here?”

“Why did you lie to your brother?”

You stood up from the couch. “I asked you first.”

“I’m here because-“ Bucky ran a hand through his hair, following you into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “Because you stopped going out with us.”

A true laugh ripped through your chest. Is he serious?

His expression urged you to answer, like he didn’t know the reason for your absence.

“Do you ever make up your mind?” You snorted. “First you say I’m immature and you don’t want me near you and now, now you ask me why I’m not there.”

Bucky felt heat rise up from the back of his neck to his cheeks. There was some part of him that hoped you hadn’t heard- maybe your boss did suddenly become a raging SOB. 

“I didn’t mean it like that-“ Bucky started. 

“Please, do enlighten me as to what you meant when you said, and I quote: ‘Why does she have to follow us’ and then ‘I think she’s immature’.” You let out a dry chuckle.

Bucky’s Adams apple bobbed, trying to figure out what words he should say. But his blank expression gave you everything you needed to know.

You walked to the front door of your apartment, opening it. “Look, I don’t know who forced you to come here and apologize but it’s okay. No hard feelings, Buck. Just don’t tell my brother I didn’t have to work late and we’ll call it even.”

Bucky leant his head back and groaned. “You don’t understand.”

“And I’m done trying to understand.” You added. 

“I understand that you say no hard feelings but that’s the problem-“ Bucky walked towards you. “I want to have no feelings.”

“Bucky it’s fine. I get it, you don’t like me and don’t want to be my friend. I’m over it.” You rolled your eyes again. 

Bucky’s chest heaved, his emotions taking over his brain. He took your body and slammed it against the door, shutting it closed. Bucky’s large hands cupped your face, his once clear eyes now turned dark. 

“You don’t understand.” He whispered dragging his knuckles lightly against your cheek. “I don’t want you there because I can’t control myself whenever you’re near.”

Your throat became dry. “What? I thought you didn’t like me.”

Bucky chuckled lightly, now his finger ghosted over your lips. “Quite the opposite. I like you, I want you, I needyou. But I cannot have you.”

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

[aldisobey]

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[theshiftanlibrary]

Hi! Is it okay if I ask for head canons for Sebek, Trey, and Jack (separately) caring for gn reader who took a hit for them during an overblot incident? I wish you luck on your journey here!

Of course it's alright to ask for headcanons! I hope these are okay, I took an embarrassingly long time to write these! Sorry...

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ | You'd hurt yourself for me?

SYNOPSIS: Oh no, it would seem that in your heroic act in protecting them, caused feelings of regret and guilt. Well, they will try their best to fix it!

CHARACTERS: Sebek Zigvolt; Trey Clover; Jack Howl

TAGS: Hurt/Comfort; Gender Neutral Reader; Mentions of Blood; Mentions of Injuries

: ̗̀➛ Sebek Zigvolt

He couldn’t face you. Not after your eyes locked onto his. Not after you hit the ground with a raw mutilated gash on your side, bubbling with a dark ink. It should have been him.

He debated heavily on whether he should come see you in the infirmary. It had to take a lot of convincing from Lilia to go and see you. Even with the encouragement, it took a lot of courage from his side to come see you.

You’ve never seen such a meek Sebek. His tall stature shrunk in on itself as he scurried to your side with a frown. He took his place next to your bed as he glared down at his hands.

Before you could ask if he was alright, he grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. In his faltering hold on your hands, he kept himself firm to look at you. To look at your bandaged side. He took a breath as he readied to say your name,

   “I have failed you as both a friend and as someone who should be protecting you. Protecting everyone. I should have stopped you. If it weren’t for my sluggish behaviour, you would be able to attend classes. Attend to your hobbies. I apologize with everything in me,” his eyes darted to your band aid covered hands. “I swear to you, I will train harder than before, to ensure this never happens again!”

After you were released from the infirmary, Sebek had hovered over you, much like how one of the many bats Lilia had around him would flutter around you throughout the school day.

He would accompany you everywhere. Escort you to the cafeteria, help you with your school supplies, and even going as far as to carry you up a flight of stairs.

The attention had been… unusual to say the least. The half-fae had been adamant in keeping you safe, including changing your bandages and ensuring you were getting enough rest.

Not to say you didn’t appreciate someone caring for you, you just wished he had been quieter in his endeavours.

: ̗̀➛ Trey Clover

His hands couldn’t stop shaking. Why wouldn’t his hands stop shaking?! He couldn’t even help you as he saw Cater grab you from the floor as your blood followed the redhead.

That night Heartslabyul had seen many a desert, pastry, and cake made by the vice house warden. His stress baking had been at an all time high, so much so that Riddle had to step in to stop Trey. Riddle tried his best to comfort his friend and suggested that they should see you in the infirmary.

He agreed, joking that he should bring you one of the stress deserts. And he did. It had been a delightful milk tart with a stick of cinnamon decorating the top of it. It had to take everything in you not to scarf it down.

His eyes didn’t meet his smile as he sat down on the bed next to you. Neither did they meet your strapped shoulder. His hand rested on your knee as he watched you enjoy the fruits of his racing thoughts. A deep sigh as he asked for your attention,

   “I’m sorry… for… I’m sorry I didn’t help. I mean I’m your upperclassman, I’m supposed to be the one to take the hit. I… Let me take care of you, please?” He looked up at you, showing you just how much he tried to hold back his tears. “I shouldn’t have let you get hurt. It won’t happen again, I swear it.”

The first few days of your discharge from the infirmary had been filled with Trey baking and caring for you. Reminding you take your medicine as well as helping you with your bandages.

He’d help you with carrying your books, should Ace and Deuce not be there to help, and he helped you study and catch up with everything you had missed during your absence.

Even after you were fully healed, he still helped you throughout the day. Even more so than he did before.

: ̗̀➛ Jack Howl

Everything in his body screamed to run. To help. Every fibre of his muscles, his bones, his being begged him to help you up, carry you to the infirmary. But he stood. Stock still as his heart pumped, watching Ruggie haul you up with surprising strength and run away to safety.

Out of these three, he won’t avoid you. He will stay by your side even before you woke up. After he snapped out of his frozen state, of course.

During that time though, he will stay in his head, criticising himself for his inaction. He’ll try to identify where he went wrong and how he could prevent it from happening again.

He’ll work on his next work-out routine to get stronger and faster. That is unfortunately what he does in states of distress, work himself to the bone so it doesn’t happen again.

It had to take a bit of coaxing from you to get him to look at you. Once he finally did, you could swear you kicked a puppy. His ears drooped low, and his tail curled into his thigh while his eyes widened in shock. His eyes darted to the floor before he squared his shoulders.

   “I owe you one. You took the hit for me,” he didn’t keep his bravery on for long as he looked away from your wrapped chest. His chest rocked with the deep breath he tried to take. “From now on, I’m gonna protect you.”

And that he did. He ensured your recovery had been swift, bringing you food as well as helping with manging the medicine.

After you had been released from the infirmary, he hovered over you. He protected you as well if someone tried anything – not that they would – but still.

He helped with everything. Carrying your supplies, walking you to class, helping you study, and he even changed your bandages for you. He was adamant in his task so you didn’t want to interrupt his cute focused face.

A/N: I apologise again for responding so late! I have another Ask I have to get to, but please ask away for more of these requests! I'm also readying a character sheet for all my TWST OCs so, stay tuned!