#SO SORRY FOR TAKING A WEEK TO RESPOND TO THIS

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[woncon]

➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey. 

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown. 

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink. 

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you're so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement. 

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time. 

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely. 

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.” 

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

[sir3n-s]

Since Eddie came to live with him, Wayne has seen him bring home many things.

Mainly bugs or hurt animals.

One time he brought home a skunk. Sometimes Wayne thinks he can still smell it.

But this? This is something else.

"Wayne I can explain" he says standing in the doorway with a jar.

A jar that has a pixie in it.

"That jar better have holes in it, Edward.'" He's praying that his nephew didn't hurt the pixie.

Pixies have been around for centuries and helping them will bring good luck. As in the pixie will most likely bring you gifts.

Hurting a pixie though?

He has heard some stories that would be labeled as horror if they were movies.

"Of course, it has holes in it!" Eddie says like it was ridiculous of him to ask, "I'm not stupid" Wayne thinks that is debatable but now is not the time for that.

"Yet you have a pixie in a jar" he sighs, wondering why this kid can't give him a break, "knowing what they are capable of."

"I know, I know!" Eddie says, looking down at the jar. "I just wanted to say hi, and then he attacked me! I didn't want to hurt him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"So you thought putting it in a jar would make it like you," he says while getting up.

"Well no but I tried runng but he followed me"

He's going to need a beer after this. 

"Give me the jar," he says standing in front of his nephew. 

Eddie doesn't hesitate to hand it over. 

Wayne walks out the door of the trailer and starts opening the jar, "I apologize for my nephew, he doesn't think before he acts. He's a good kid, please don't hurt him" he takes the top off and lets the pixie fly out.

It flies in front of Wayne’s face for a moment before smiling and nodding at him, then zooms off.

Wayne walks back into the trailer to grab a beer and start lecturing his nephew.

-

Over the next few weeks, Eddie sees the pixie, who he learns name is Steve, come by the trailer to give gifts to Wayne.  

Eddie has tried to get close enough to apologize but Steve always files away the moment he sees Eddie. 

But he also doesn't do anything to Eddie so he guesses that Steve likes Wayne enough to leave his nephew alone. 

Which is good because pixies can be terrifying. 

"Give him some fruit," Wayne suggests after hearing Eddie complain about Steve leaving once he saw Eddie pull up to the trailer. "He really likes peaches." 

So Eddie cuts up a peach and puts it on a plate. He takes it outside to the bench close by and waits. 

Steve does eventually show up but Eddie can tell he's still cautious of him because he doesn't immediately go for the peach like he would if Wayne was the one offering it.

Eddie smiles at him and pushes the plate towards him hoping to encourage him to eat it.

Steve must have decided to trust Eddie because he dives for the peach slices.

He watches Steve eat a really small amount of the the peach, but pixies are so small it was probably a lot to him.

Once it seems like Steve had his fill of the fruit Eddie sets a napkin down next to the plate.

Steve wipes his hands and face with it. Then he just sits there and stares at Eddie for a moment.

"Thank you" the pixie says. And honestly Eddie is surprised, he didn't know they could communicate with humans.

"You're welcome" he responds, tapping his finger on the table, "I am sorry about the jar thing, I really didn't mean to hurt you"

Steve reached for Eddie's hand and placed his tiny hand on top of his finger, stopping its movement.

"Its okay" Steve smiles at him.

[ramhaiba]

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗍. 2

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part one

"For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. It’s me.”

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, oral (f receiving), dubcon, semi-public fingering, groping, choking, biting, manhandling, riding overstimulation, marathon sex, mentions of necrophilia/noncon, implied somnophila, baby trapping(?) A/N- sorry for the long wait guys, writer's block can be a bitch

Sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of your life-

No. letting him ‘help’ you was the biggest mistake of your life. 

Ever since you two had sex, he’s been sleeping in the same bed as you. You did attempt to persuade him to sleep on the couch once again but he simply responded with

‘We both saw what happens when I sleep on the couch, sweetheart. Besides, sharing the same bed might bring back some of those ‘dear’ memories you lost.”  As you predicted, it would be challenging to sneak out of your room at night, especially when Suna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked on your shoulder, and his stern back against your chest.

You thought about lying to him, telling him you’re getting up from bed to use the bathroom but really you’re planning to find his car keys and drive away from this nightmare. But what if you take too long and he gets suspicious? Last time you got lucky when he misunderstood your attempt to steal his car keys.

You hate that you spent the entire week with him, pretending to be in a loving marriage, kissing him sweetly, and sometimes bathing with him. But he hasn’t fucked you since the first time- well with his dick at least. 

If he thinks you look too cute in a nightgown- which you always do, he’ll push you down on the bed, scrunching up your silky slip-on onto your breast and shamelessly make out with your cunt, fingers holding your thighs down and apart to keep you from squirming away. He never fails to give you an intense orgasm. You're so addicted to his touch that you don’t know how you’ll be able to cum again once you escape from him...While on the topic of escaping, you’re finding the idea of freedom too difficult to obtain by yourself. You’re gonna need help.

“ So- I remember you mentioned before that we were still friends with twins from high school” You blurted out while having dinner with your ‘fiancé.’

“ Yeah, Osamu and Atsumu. What about them?” Suna asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think you should invite them over. I think it’d be good for me to meet someone from my past” you suggested.

“ It’d be hard to contact them because the service in this place is horrible” Suna claimed, leaning back in his chair. You let out an instant “oh” with a noticeable pout on your lips.

Then you heard Suna sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay. There is this part of the house where the service is somewhat usable. But it’s on the roof so I don’t want you following me there. Your body is still sore which makes it difficult for you to stay up there without falling” Suna pointed out.

He’s right. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you try going on that roof. So the idea of stealing his phone to call for help isn’t possible.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Rin” You complimented. “ Yeah well, I gotta keep my wife happy” Suna got up and kissed your forehead before retreating upstairs.

You waited impatiently for Suna to come back down. A sick part of you wishes that he’d accidentally slip off the roof, breaking his neck because then you’d be freed from this nightmare. But he only takes twenty minutes to come back down, placing his phone back into his pocket as he walks towards you.

“So? Did they say yes?” you questioned. “They said they would love to stop by. But I had to make Atsumu promise he wouldn’t bring another hookup over. I better start cooking dinner because those two guys know how to eat- especially Osamu” Suna replied, giving you an endearing pat on the head as he went to prepare for their arrival. 

--

You hadn’t seen any pictures of the twins prior before they arrived, so it was quite intimidating when two muscular tall men stood at your doorstep. The dark-haired one holding a classic bottle of wine. While Atsumu opened his arms to you, giving you an unwelcomed hug.

“There is our Y/n. It’s been too long since we saw ya” The bold twin one cooed, his arms around you tightened.

“You’re one foot in and already flirtin’ with my fiance- don’t you have any shame, Atsumu?” Suna replied, subtly informing you of the difference between the twins.

So if the blonde, somewhat pervy, twin was Atsumu. The other one must be Osamu.

“I ain’t flirting. I was just being friendly to a friend who’s gotten into a terrible- just terrible accident “ Atsumu pouted.

“I decided to tell them your situation. I hope you don’t mind” Suna commented, smiling innocently.

It’s unsettling.

They’re completely lying to you- you’re not friends with them. How are they so eerily confident then? How can these two lie straight to your face and pretend that you’re Suna's fiancé?

Because you’re not. You’re not his fiancé. 

Right?

Dinner with them made you even more confused. They’re doing the same thing that Suna did. Reciting old stories about your so-called past together. It’s getting more difficult to distinguish what’s the truth or not. Yet Atsumu’s words manage to slip you back into reality.

“You should really be thanking me. If I set you two up in college- y’all would not be getting married.. at least Suna wouldn’t be” Atsumu teased.

“I thought we started dating in high school?” You spoke up, pointing out Atsumu’s mistake. Rather than Atsumu getting embarrassed for making such an innocent mistake. 

Atsumu got nervous.

If you weren’t already so superstitious during dinner, you wouldn’t have noticed how he blinked away, how forced his laughter sounded, and how his brother deadly glared at him.

“Would you pardon us? I think I have to remind Atsumu about some manners” Osamu asked, seeming all friendly while his jawline clenched, a fist under the table. 

Suna clicked him, glancing at a nervous Atsumu and then back at Osamu.” Go ahead,” Suna replied.

You were left alone with him once again.

You and you’re fiancé-no he’s not your fiancé. You and your demon.

“You’re lookin’ a bit nervous, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay? Just say the word and I can get these idiots to leave any time” Suna suggested. “No- they don’t need to leave. I just need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. That’s all” Your laughter sounded a bit too forced, sweaty palms pushing you up out of your seat. “Don’t take too long” Suna mumbled, watching you march quickly out of the dining room.

This is your chance.

You can ask- no- you're going to beg the twins to help you because surely, they wouldn’t want to risk being an accomplice for a serial killer.

You followed their distant voices, words too unintelligible to understand. Eventually, you ended up in front of the door connecting the garage to the summer house. Luckily, they left the door slightly ajar, allowing you to hear their conversation clearly.

You were about to walk in before you heard Osamu say

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot, Tsumu? At this point, Suna not gonna let either of us have a turn with her” Osamu argued with his brother.

“Shut up- shut up. I’m a fuckin’ volleyball player not an actor” Atsumu huffed. “Yeah and I own a restaurant but I know how to keep my story straight,” Osamu remarked.

“I don’t even know why Suna cares s’much about keeping up this whole game” Atsumu commented.

“he’s just gonna kill her like the rest.”

Your heart is racing because your last hope of escaping this n nightmare just revealed they could care less about your life- fuck they could be worse than Suna. Instinctually, you step away from the door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. But that’s when you feel a stern chest against your back, stopping you from backing away. You slowly turn your head and notice Suna behind you, his eyes glued on the view of the twins arguing about whether they’ll still get a ‘turn’ with you after Atsumu’s mishap.

“Rin-“

“Quiet. It’s always amusing to watch the twins argue, right? “ Suna replied, his hand tilting your face to watch the twins, his chin resting on top of your head, forcing you to watch the truth unfold.

“You know he does sadistic shit like this all the time. Just try to have fun with her while she’s still alive” Osamu huffed.

“I didn’t come here to play an actor. I just wanna fuck her before Suna finally cuts her up or whatever sadistic shit he plans to do with her” Atsumu groaned.

“ Yeah, well, there's no way in hell he’s gonna let you have a turn with her if you don’t play along correctly. You’d be lucky if he even lets you fuck her corpse” 

Atsumu hummed, his once annoyed attitude slowly disappearing as he looked lost in thought- until he made the comment

“I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.”

You want to stop listening but Suna won’t let you. “Please, just let me go and I won’t- I won’t tell anyone” you muttered, voice cracking. Suna laid his forehead on your shoulder, you could feel his smile on his skin.

“What about our wedding?” he cooed, voice teasing, his hands wrapping around your waist, tips of his fingers sliding under your waistband.

“Rintarou, please- I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything just don’t hurt me” you begged. 

“I don’t like when you call me by my first name, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble” Suna commented, a soft pout on his lips. This time his hands are traveling further down the inside of your pants until his fingers are tracing over your covered slit. You wish you could fight his touch but you’re too scared to upset him.

“Rin, I don’t wanna pretend anymore. I just wanna go home” You’re starting to cry and he doesn’t need to look at your face to know that tears are pouring out of your eyes.

You act like you’re strong but the second you’re faced with a challenge, you crack like glass. So easy to read. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much.

“You wanna go home? Go ahead and ask the twins for help. But I don’t if they’ll be that compliant” Suna suggested. He’s right. He’s always right.

“I like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so infatuated with a person like this before. So I’ll give you two choices. You could either go beg the twins to take you away from this ‘hell house’ or

you can become my pretty wife”

 You don't want any of that. You want to run far far away. But he’ll catch you like he did the first time and then he might actually kill you.

“So, what will it be, princess?” He repeats, forcing you to break from your silence. That nickname, it always appears when his true colors are shown. You're starting to hate that word because now you associate it with danger.

“How do I know you won’t kill me,” you ask, in the quietest voice, afraid of his answer. He chuckles at your question, raises his head from your shoulder, and smiles.

“Because I'll never get bored of you.”

That’s all it takes. You nod your head, not wanting to hear yourself agree to stay. To be his, forever.

He leans over, lips almost touching yours, narrow eyes with an unwearying stare forcing you to look at him. 

“You know how to keep quiet, don’t you Mrs. Suna?”

That’s when his wandering fingers finally slip beneath your panties and you’re reminded that Osamu and Atsumu are right behind the door in front of you. “Rin, not here” you begged, squirming to get out of his grip, only for him to hold you tighter.

“Why not? Atsumu would probably wanna hear, that fuckin’ freak” Suna laughed. Just as you were about to utter an argument, you’re cut short by the painfully slow pumping of Suna’s fingers, thrusting into your cunt. You feel weak.

Instead of telling him to stop, your words cut into a breathy moan and Suna is forced to lean over to your ear.

“ Careful, princess. You don’t want them to hear you.” He whispered a reminder, tongue poking out of his mouth to lick a stripe down your neck, causing you only to tighten around his long thrusting fingers. 

“ Try to argue with me but I can feel how wet you are. Maybe you’re the crazy one huh? Or maybe it’s both of us. Guess we're soulmates then” he’s talking more than he usually does. Maybe because he knows you're scared to get caught.

Or maybe he’s drunk on the success of your agreement to your engagement. Doesn’t matter because he’s only getting more confident, pulling down the neckline of your shirt as long as your bra with his other hand, groping the soft skin of your breast all while his thumb is massaging your clit.

Fuck- you’re so close and he’s so fucking hard, forced to grind his painful erection against your back.

You feel pathetic when you're uncontrollably humping his ruthless fingers, chasing your high. 

When you hear him chuckle from behind you, most likely realizing your movement- he has no right to sound so fucking sexy.

“Can’t believe you were begging me to stop, aren’t you just the prettiest liar.” He mumbles.

And you’re finishing on his fingers, legs shaking, eyes tearing up, your hands covering your mouth muffling uncontrollable moans.

Suna slowly pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing his drenched fingers into your mouth, disgustedly making you clean his fingers, tasting yourself. 

He spins you towards him, leaning over to wipe off your smeared make up, fixing your appearance for you because you are all too stunned by what has just occurred.

Just on time, Atsumu and Osamu are opening the door, both surprised to see you.

“ Holy fuck- how long were you two standing there" Atsumu called out. You both turn around to look at them, Suna wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

“We just walked in actually” Suna lied for your sake.

“ Well…Wow! look at the time- “ Atsumu said, checking his watch, pretending to read the time. “It’s getting late, ain’t it? I’m a bit too tired to drive…guess me and Osamu gotta stay over the night” Atsumu whistled.

Holy fuck- Atsumu and Osamu still think they have a chance with you. 

You’re beginning to tremble at Suna’s side, fully not trusting him to protect you.

“I’ll call you two an uber,” Suna says blankly.

You could see Atsumu grit his teeth, not knowing why he wasn’t getting rewarded for  his ‘efforts.’

“Well- can we at least visit tomorrow” Osamu questioned, trying to hint if they’ll at least have a chance to fuck your dead corpse.

Sick mother fuckers. Just like Suna- maybe even worse.

“Next time we’ll see you is at our wedding” Suna smiled passively aggressively, knowing he just pissed off the twins.

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely attending to spoil the truth because Suna ruined all of his ‘fun.’ But Osamu stops him by gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt.

“ No need to argue with an old friend. We’ll leave… just call us next time when we’re allowed to come over” Osamu sighed.

Then they proceed to leave. Not without Atsumu forcing you into a hug, his hand dangerous lying on your lower back, a final act of perversion. They leave and you’re left alone with Suna and his narrow eyes are locked on yours. 

“Could fuck you here or on the bed. Pick one”

There is no option to deny him. He is going to be your husband after all.

“Bed.”

He’s not even letting you walk there, probably thinking you’ll move too slowly for his liking. So he's picking you up effortlessly because of his muscular arms, delivering you to the bedroom before and tossing you onto the mattress. He’s on top of you in a heartbeat, his hands tugging off your clothes, not caring if you’re telling him to slow down because they’ll rip.

He’ll buy you a new one- fuck he’ll buy you anything you’d want as long as he gets to fuck that tight pussy of yours.

Your heart is slipping at the sound of his belt unbuckling, too nervous to look at the sight of him sliding down any of the clothes covering his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ you raw, yeah? Doesn’t matter anymore since we’ll be married soon” Suna clicks his tongue, holding his heavy cock in his hands, pressing his leaking tip against your hole.

You shake your head frantically, “Don’t please Rin- don’t do that to me” you shuttered.

“ What? Ya afraid you’ll conceive the devil’s reincarnation? For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. 

It’s me.”

Without another argument he’s forcing himself into your shameless cunt causing a gasp to slip out of your mouth, not waiting for you to adjust until he’s fucking you into the bed. You’re holding onto everything but him. And he doesn’t like this- it’s not wife behavior is it?

So he leans over and painfully bites into your collarbone, “ hurt me back.” He commands.

And you give him exactly what he wants, slipping your hands under his shirt, digging your nails into his toned back, causing him to only get fuck you harder like it a competition on who can break the quickest.

You’re not holding back your moans- thankful for the lack of people near you, only giving Suna the privilege of hearing them.

Once you orgasm for the second time that night, he’s switching positions and forcing you to take him on his lap, his back resting on the bed frame.

You know what he wants you to do but you’re already so tired, you drowsily shake your head, hoping he’ll stop, and let finally you sleep.

Except all you do is annoy him, hissing under his breath as his hands grip your hips, forcing you to bounce on his cock, overstimulating your insides.

“ Slow down, Rin-“ you asked, knowing he won’t let you stop but at least the idea of slowing down seems possible.

“You wanna go slow, princess? Then you gotta do it yourself” he commented. You hesitate before nodding your head, thinking it’s a better option than letting him fuck you relentlessly.

His hands go behind his head while yours leans over on his thigh, slowly pushing yourself up, sucking in your breath and you sink back down.

Suna whistled at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, acting like the perfect wife. 

He’s moving the hair out of your face before wrapping his hands around your neck, freaking you out as he lightly squeezes the sides of your neck. The action is causing you to stop your movement.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked, tightening the grip around your neck, making it harder to breathe, a growing light-headed.

Your hands are shaking as you’re lifting yourself up and down on his cock. It’s humiliating, knowing you’re getting off because of him- how easily he has control of your body

“Say you’ll stay” he pants, chest heaving, feeling your cunt squeezing on his cock because of his husky voice.

“ Say you’ll stay forever. Can’t ever leave my side, princess. Dont think I can live without this pussy” he asks, face flushed.

“ I’ll stay—Rin” you managed to croak out with the tightness around your neck.

That’s all he needs until he’s leaning over to your torso, hands moving to grip your waist,  forcing you to stay still on his cock, cumming deep into your pussy.

You think that’ll be it for tonight until he’s pulling back and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth, hands moving to grope your breast again until he’s hard once more.

He’s manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees. He's behind you, watching your legs shake as he guides his cock back into your stuffed pussy, fucking his leaking cum back into you.

You’re screaming from overstimulation, tears soaking the bed sheet under your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheet. You feel like you’re being crushed when he presses his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach, cock bullying your insides.

He’s never this energetic.

And you’re also never this honest, finally admitting to knowing the truth behind this charade. But you tell him you’ll stay isn’t something he believes in.

“ Bet you’re thinking about leavin’ when I’m asleep, yeah?” He huffed against the nape of your neck.

“You’d probably find a way to kill me first though. You’re not dumb enough to think I won’t find you” he uttered, talking to you as if he’s not fucking you into oblivion.

“ Doesn’t matter if m’dead or not. I’ll always be with you- every second til the day you fuckin' die, you'll be thinking about me. dreaming about me. haunted by me. So don’t you dare test me. Just be good and I’ll be good back. I fuck you good as well” he adds, his finger rubbing your swollen clit while his hips are forcing you to the edge, squeezing his cock so hard he can’t pull out to cum- not like he was going to do in the first place.

Suna lifts himself and rolls you to the side, admiring your fucked out expression, how you’re staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as you recover from your intense orgasm.

“ Maybe if fuck a baby into you. You wouldn't be able to leave,”Suna commented, the lack of playfulness in his tone suggested to you that he was actually serious about the idea of knocking you up.

“ I'm not - I not planning on leaving— I won’t do it, Rin. I’m telling the truth” you babbled, crying at the idea of going another round, hands frantically wiping down tears that felt never-ending.

Suna chuckles because for once, he believes you. He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll be nice and give you a morning-after pill I got laying around somewhere afterward, yeah? I’ll take care of you, but you gotta take care of me,” he cooed.

You are too cute. So much more innocent than Suna is- never committing the horrendous crimes he’s done. And he thinks you begging him to spare you from sex is so much more exciting than you begging him for your life.

But to you- it feels like you’re begging for the same thing. You’ll die if he fucks you again- that your body is too overstimulated and exhausted.

That doesn’t stop him- nothing will really, from getting hard, thrusting into you again. You don’t know when he stopped fucking you- was it after you passed out the third time? Or did he continue ever after that? When it’s over, you’re half awake, back leaning on his chest, his hand ushering you to take the suggested birth control in his hand. Then slowly tilt the glass of water down your mouth. While you manage to drink the refreshing liquid, you get a glance of the mess between your spread legs, cum shameless dripping out and you wish you never met him.

You’re awake and you don’t feel physically dirty, the evidence of cum wiped off your legs by Suna while you were sleeping. 

If he hadn’t marked your body with his teeth and hands, you’d almost pretend last night was nonexistent. Plus the aroma coming from him cooking from the kitchen downstairs only ruins the fantasy even more.

Maybe you’ll run away one day and get away with it. But you can’t say you could ever truly escape, Suna.

Because that would just make you a liar.

taglist @fynn1issshh @kodsuken

[yanderestarangel]

★ ! hidden desires — stalker!bruce wayne x male reader

a/n: This is a repost! The first post has been taken down ( by tumblr itself lol); sorry and thanks for letting me know.

♡⁠┊tw: stalking, suggestive behavior, fingering, casual sex, v! sex, ftm reader, sex with a condom, afab anatomy, blowjob.

Each time he remembered what he had done—stalking you for weeks from the shadows like the nocturnal creature he was—a strange sense of shame settled in his chest. He used his shadowy vigilante persona to justify his unhealthy obsession, but even that excuse felt hollow.

He kept insisting to himself, "It's just for his safety." However, the heat in his groin wouldn't let him pretend otherwise — standing in the rain and cold nights by the window in the building above your house... But lying and manipulating to get into your life and home was not something he usually did.

That night, you'd gone out to the club. People were whispering about a new drug called "Bliss" and some underworld drama involving Sofia Falcone, while the red lights of the club mixed with your carefree expression, oblivious to Gotham's lurking dangers.

Wayne, however, was watching you as always—from afar, waiting for the right moment to act.

He wasn’t oblivious; his glances at a few attractive men at the party hadn’t escaped the dark gaze of the guard’s blue irises. He knew his obsession with you had gone too far, yet he ignored the rational alarms ringing in his mind—and started toward you.

It hadn’t been very difficult for him to get into his pants and into his home, and, to be honest, he didn’t know whether to feel angry or surprised. Perhaps it was a bittersweet mixture he’d reflect on only after leaving the apartment, since, after all, his blood wasn’t exactly rushing to his head.

You whispered a question, asking his name, but his hands were too focused on exploring your body.

"Bruce," he growled, finally breaking the silence. "My name is Bruce." The words came out more tense than he’d anticipated, and he silently prayed you wouldn’t ask anything else—or recognize him as one of Gotham’s elusive big shots.

Bruce’s fingers pressed deeper into your warm, slick heat, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made you see stars. He felt you tighten around him, your body responding to every stroke. With an added finger, he stretched you gently, preparing you for more. His thumb found your clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles as he drove you closer to the edge with relentless precision.

Bruce murmured, "So tight. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me," his voice thick with desire. His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, while his fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you. He felt the tremors in your body, heard your breathy moans, each sound and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your flesh. "Come on my fingers like a good boy."

And you did, your walls clenching around him as you cried out in pleasure. Bruce guided you through it, prolonging your orgasm and drawing every last drop of ecstasy from your quivering form.

When you finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting, Wayne withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, savoring your taste and scent. It was so sweet and erotic that he felt his cock throb, and all the rationality and chivalry that defined his persona went out the window.

Quickly, the rest of your clothes were removed, and the man with black eye shadow sat on your bed, spreading his thighs and inviting you to suck his cock — a command you immediately obeyed. The sight of you on your knees, your plump lips stretched around his shaft, was almost too much for him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you moved up and down, taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, his hips rocking forward to meet your eager tongue. "Just like that, atta boy... Take it all."

He could feel you gagging around him, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your slurping and sucking. It was music to his ears—a symphony of pleasure that nearly undid him. His other hand found your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he pulled you closer, pressing his cock deeper down your throat. He could feel you struggling to breathe, could see the tears streaming down your cheeks, but he didn't relent.

"Look at me... I want to see your eyes when you choke on my cock."

He commanded, holding your gaze as you struggled to comply, your eyes watering as you fought for air. But you didn’t pull away or tap out; instead, you leaned in, taking him even deeper until your nose pressed against his pelvis. He was so close to climax, but he held back, wanting to savor this intense connection, feeling your body fully aligned with his.

"No fuck... not yet..." He grunted hoarsely taking his mouth off his cock as he shook trying to hold back his orgasm. "On your hands and knees, now." He ran his hands over your smooth skin, caressing your curves, your softness, a stark contrast to his own hard planes. He was prepared that night, carrying a condom in his jacket pocket, even though he thought the chances of him touching you were zero... Well, apparently not. He positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

With a slow thrust, he pushed forward, breaking your tight heat. He groaned at the sensation, at the way your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him deeper. He watched his cock disappear inside you, your tight heat enveloping him completely. He could feel every twitch, every pulse of your walls around him, could see the way your body yielded to his, taking him deeper and deeper.

But despite the overwhelming sensations, he remained silent, unsure of how to express the depth of his desire, the intensity of his need. He'd never been good with words, had always been better with actions, with his fists, with his body. You tried to talk to him, however Bruce's hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the slap echoing in the room. He watched as you jolted forward, your back arching, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Shh... Don't talk. Just feel." He punctuated his command with another slap, his fingers digging into the reddening flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you with renewed vigor. Wayne watched as you came undone beneath him, your body shaking, your walls clenching around his cock. He could feel your release coating his shaft, could hear your sweet whimpers filling the room.

And then he was coming too, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He buried himself deep inside you, his hips grinding against your ass as he filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he simply held you, savoring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the racing of your heart.

He wasn't used to this, to the intimacy, to the vulnerability. He was better at fighting, at brooding, at being alone... Stalking you was a different thing than finally having you, and he felt no shame in having lied. So he pulled out of you, quickly disposing of the condom before rolling off the bed. He stood there for a moment, his back to you, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I...I should go," he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. "I have work to do... It was cool..."

He grabbed his clothes, dressing quickly, efficiently. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the gap between what had just happened and what came next... He was used to being your stalker, but now his brain couldn't function after finally getting what he wanted: you.

But he was sure of something, the feeling became more fixed in his chest... He was more addicted in you.

★ ! yanderestarangel©

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 14: Threesome

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x You

Contents: fem!reader x Frank Castle (The Punisher x Matt Murdock , FMM threesome

W/C: 2.4k

So… it’s been a while. I’ve been super busy and I’ve had awful writers block I’m sorry guys, but istg I will get this Kinktober done if it’s the last thing I do. But I made this one nice and long and slutty to make up for it!! I love Frank and Matt and hopefully yall do too <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“Fuck.. Frank,” you whined, eyes rolling back into your head with how far inside he was hitting you, how thick he felt.

“What is it, baby, you want me to go harder?” You whimpered in response, desperate for more but not even being able to speak, already winded from his relentless pace. “Go on, baby, let him hear you.” It dawned on you then - he could hear you. Your bedroom was adjoining the guest room where Matt was sleeping, and with his sense, there was no doubt that he could hear everything…

Oh God, he could hear everything…

You did your very best to keep quiet, even as he rubbed you clit, and somehow pressed himself further into you. You even tried to hold you breath, your pants, but even if you somehow managed that, he would still hear your heartbeat, or the filthy noises Frank was making every time his body met yours.

“Let him hear you.” He repeated, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “You hear that, Red.” He spoke with a challenging tone, quiet, sure, but loud enough for Matt to hear, and the thought made you shudder, pussy fluttering around him. “I know you want her too, don’t you? It’s pretty damn obvious…” It was a taunt, blatant and outright, one that you were sure Matt wouldn’t respond to. But then you heard movement in the room next to you. Frank’s finger moved to your lips, sealing them shut with one thick fidget across your cupids bow. He burrowed himself into you, pressing deep and holding himself inside, letting you whine between closed lips. Matt’s footsteps were audible in the next room, even over the blood rushing in your head. He was pacing back and forth. Deliberating. Frank’s finger then left your mouth, trailing down your body to your clit and pressing small circles around it as his cock still filled you. You whimpered, legs shaking as he continued to keep you close to your edge.

“Reddd,” he cooed, desperately trying to goad him with that stupid nickname, “she’s close…”

Surely he wouldn’t actually join you. Of course, Frank wasn’t exactly wrong. You’d noticed the way his head cocked when you spoke, the way he stood close to you when you were working together, as though guarding you. The way he seemed almost dejected when Frank kissed you, or put his arm around you in protection.

You had noticed it most obviously today. You and Frank had finally found the ring of traffickers you had been tracing for weeks, and of course, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t far behind. It had been happening more frequently - running into each other out in the city - and the first few times, Matt and Frank had tried to out-testosterone each other, as though claiming their territory. It took a while, but eventually, you had helped them see how much better they worked together.

And today was no different. It was a matter of minutes until they were all incapacitated and the police were called, and not the corrupt ones, as Matt assured you consistently. Frank was more of a take-justice-into-your-own-hands kind of vigilante, which you didn’t mind. For the most part, you even agreed with him. ‘Dead men don’t rape’ had been your mantra since you were thirteen. But it was refreshing not always having to spill blood. Well, not as much as usual anyway.

The problem was, Matt had been badly hurt. You hadn’t even noticed until he collapsed onto the tarmac, blood gushing from his side, and a nasty welt blooming on his cheek. You were panicking quickly. He usually didn't show when he got hurt. You’d seen his entire back sliced open and he still managed to fight, but now, he could barely walk, and there was no chance he was making it all the way to his home. You begged Frank to let you bring him to your apartment and patch him up. Matt argued weakly, barely able to form coherent sentences, but Frank quickly caught on to your distress, telling him to stop moaning and that it this happening whether he liked it or not.

The three of you managed to stumble home, practically carrying Matt up the stairs to your lousy place. You settled him on the couch before grabbing the first-aid kit you had made up as soon as you and Frank had started this vigilante… thing - you weren’t even sure what to call it really.

“Sorry…” you muttered quietly, as you tried to ascertain where the blood was coming from. He winced as your fingers grazed over his side. “I can’t see where this…” You were quiet, mumbling as you tried to cover up your awkwardness. You needed to take his suit off, but even if he was bleeding, you didn’t quite feel comfortable just undressing him.

“Let me have a look.” Frank said, placing three glances of whiskey on the table. Matt had gotten your subtle hint and started to unstrap his body armour as Frank settled next to him. It turned out to be a stab wound, along with a nasty gash that stretched down his side, shallower than it initially looked though.

“This is gonna hurt, Red..” he muttered, grabbing the antiseptic and bandages. You sat of the edge of the coffee table, grabbing a wipe to clean the small wound on his face, hoping to provide distraction. As soon as Frank started, he hissed in pain, hand shooting out to your thigh and grabbing hard. You had tried your best not to noticed, but you couldn’t help but glanced down at his bare torso as you continued to carefully blot at the cut on his cheek, watching the way his muscles flexed in pain, and the rise and fall of his chest with each steading breath he took. You blushed lightly as you continued to work, but you could feel Frank glancing at you.

He wasn’t insecure in the slightest. And your relationship was very much an open one - with your histories and professions, it would be stupid not to be. But he had never seen it in real life: the look you usually gave him being aimed towards somebody else.

And now you were here, under his strong body, trying not to climax too early and listening intently for the slightest hint that Matt was going to respond to his taunt.

And then he did. You could hear footsteps quickening, then pausing right outside the door, a soft curse muttered under his breath. You whimpered in disappointment, frustration building as Frank fucked into you hard and his fingers moved faster against your aching core.

“Fuck, Matt, are you coming in or not?” You whined it quietly, cautiously. Just loud enough that he could hear, but just quiet enough that you all had plausible deniability if he changed his mind. Luckily for you, he hadn’t.

The door flew open and he strode to you urgently, pressing his lips against yours with fervor. The first taste of him was overwhelming—something you'd wanted for so long, finally happening, and it was better than you could have hoped. You could only imagine how he felt in that moment, his groan of relief and passion falling into your mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingertips running through the soft locks. His hand cupped your chin then traced lower, forming a delicate cage around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the sensitive skin there. You whined against his lips, your hips bucking into Frank uncontrollably. He had been watching the two of you with a dark look on his face, buried to the hilt inside you. It suited him. He was possessive but not jealous, protective but not obsessive—a perfect middle ground that he thrived in.

His thrusts deepened, and you let out a yelp at the sudden increase of pressure. Matt smiled. His fingers moved from your neck, trailing down your collarbone and lower until he was circling your nipple. He barely touched you, light as air, yet the sensation was dizzying. He started to increase the pressure until he was ready, and then he pinched, just hard enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your head. Paired with the way Frank was fucking you, his thumb still circling your clit, it wasn't long before you were coming undone. White hot pleasure overwhelmed your senses, muscles locking and shaking under their expert touches. You tried to moan, the guttural sound escaping you, but Matt’s mouth swallowed it.

“That’s it baby…” Frank crooned, still fucking you through it. “Atta girl.”

It was a while before you could breath again, body still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you barely had time to recover before you were being moved. You just about registered when your body hit Frank’s solid form, his arms wrapping around you as he tried to manhandle you into position, whispering sweet instructions in your ear.

“You’ve got another round in you, don’t you gorgeous? That’s it, good girl, on your hands and knees for us… give Red a chance to feel that pretty pussy of yours.” You were exhausted, totally fucked out, but when you felt Matt’s hands slide up the back of your thighs, onto your back and hips, as though trying to commit the very shape of you to his memory, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You nodded, smiling up at Frank through half lidded eyes and settling into position, arching your back for the gorgeous man behind you. You glanced back to see him, now stripped naked, his arms flexing as he gripped your hips tight, a low groan escaping his lips. A hand fell to your chin, pulling your attention back to the man in front of you, thumb smearing across your lips then into your mouth. Reminding you who you belonged to. After all the flirting, the teasing, the fucking… you were his. However non-committal you were, however far away you were, whoever you were with, deep down you knew, you would always fall back into his arms.

A knowing smile flashed across his face. He knew it. As you knelt there, his thumb in your hot mouth, your back arched for another man but your eyes on him, he knew he had you.

And that was why he let Matt sink into you. You moaned around Frank’s thumb as he slowly pressed himself deep, feeling every inch of him as he controlled the pace with his fingers biting into your hips. You tried to buck backwards, to make him speed up, to just fuck you already, but he wouldn't let you, his strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you. When his hips finally met your ass, he let out a low growl, pressing his body to the back of yours, and Frank finally freed your mouth, allowing Matt to gather your hair in his hand and twist your head back to kiss you hungrily. His lips left yours, and you whined, but then the hand in your hair started guiding you down towards Frank’s waiting cock, thick and hard and leaking precum and you realised it had been his hand all along. Frank’s. You shouldn't be surprised. You knew he was always in control, and sex was no different.

As your ready mouth sank down onto his erection, he wasted no time bottoming out, pressing into your throat and letting you gag around him just as Matt started to move, dragging out of you with aching patience, then rutting back in. It only took a few thrusts before he was losing control, and his pace quickened, whines and pants and curses falling from his lips as his hips slapped against you. When Frank finally pulled you off him, you were gasping, but he didn't let you have much of a breather, just enough to ease the burning in your lungs a tiny bit. Tears were pricking in your eyes, but he soothed you with praises and pet names, and you knew you could take it. You would take anything he gave you. He pulled you off again, but this time, not enough to take even a full breath before he pressed himself completely into your throat. You had never taken so much before, nose pressing against the very base of him, and you could taste yourself on him, a realisation that made your cunt flutter around Matt, earning a groan. You swallowed around him, eager to please, and it was enough. He stuttered your name, pressing you just a touch deeper, before he came down your throat, and you swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop.

He finally released you when he was completely spent, letting your head fall to the bed as you desperately caught your breath. You couldn't relax for long though, as Frank scooped you up once more, shuffling forward as your body was flush with his, head lulling over his shoulder. This position meant Matt was fucking up into you, hitting a spot that made you whimper in pure ecstasy, so good you could do nothing but dig your nails into Frank’s back. He growled, hand trailing down your body to find your clit and gently circle, pressure so light you shouldn’t have felt a thing, but you were already so overstimulated, so pent up, and with the way Matt was reaching that perfect place, you were so close.

“There you go pretty girl… that's it baby come on his cock for me…” Frank’s words were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge and you cried out, pleasure so good it was almost painful, whole body squirming in his arms. Matt’s hips stuttered, and he bit down onto your shoulder to suppress his moan as he came inside you, hands still firmly gripping your hips and grinding into you.

Your mind was hazy when you were finally finished, completely melted in Frank’s arms, Matt’s cock still inside you.

“This isn't going to become a habit now, pretty boy. Don't get it twisted. It was only because you got stabbed.” Matt just chuckled, his body collapsing into yours and you felt his cheek against your shoulder, hot breath fanning across your upper arm.

“It was worth it.”

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you | pablo gavi [part ii]

🌧️ synopsis: In an attempt to get over Pablo, you go on a date, only to end up in the hospital with a sprained ankle. When Pablo shows up uninvited, trying to take care of you, the moment turns into a full-blown fight. tags: angst, unrequited love, emotional tension. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 2.5k words)

you can read the first part here.

After the confession, you both said you'd stay in each other's lives, like nothing had changed. You promised. But promises, you realize, are easier said than kept.

The calls become even rarer, and when they do come, they’re awkward, halting. He used to be the first person you’d call when you were bored, the one you’d go to when you needed to vent or laugh, and now? Now you just… don’t.

That’s when you meet him – this other guy. He’s nice, funny enough, interested. And he’s not Pablo. You don’t have butterflies, but there’s a kind of safety in that, a relief in the way he looks at you with no expectations, no memories weighing you down. So when he asks you out, you say yes, not because you’re excited, but because you’re desperate to move forward, to stop feeling like you’re stuck in that moment when Pablo said, “I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.”

The night of the date, you’re almost ready when your phone rings. It’s Pablo, and your heart jumps, he hasn’t called in weeks, and it’s like he knew, like he somehow sensed that you were trying to step away from him for good.

You answer, trying to sound normal. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, his voice distant, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep it casual. You’re trying to decide between two different shoes for the date, and it feels wrong. “I guess we’ve both been… busy.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. But you’re not about to get into that now. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, all dressed up, ready to leave.

“Actually,” you interrupt, “I’m kind of in a hurry. I have… plans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you can almost picture the look on his face – confused, caught off guard. “Plans?” he asks, and you can hear an edge in his voice now, one he’s trying to hide. “Like… a date?”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to sound like it’s not a big deal. “I’m going out with someone.”

“With who?”

“Just… someone I met,” you say, trying to brush it off, “We’ve only talked a couple of times.”

There’s silence, and you’re about to check if he’s still on the line when he says, “So that’s what you’re doing now? Just going out with random guys?”

You get defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, his anger leaking into his words. “It’s just… you’re already –” He stumbles over the words, his voice tight. “Is that what you want now?”

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling the heat rise in your face. “You’re the one who –” You stop yourself because you promised you wouldn’t do this. You wouldn't blame him. But he doesn’t make it easy.

He lets out a bitter laugh, and it cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. “No, go ahead. Say it.”

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to lash back. “I miss you,” you say.

“It doesn’t look like you do,” he says quietly, and there’s a hurt there you didn’t expect. 

Your chest tightens, and you can feel the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Pablo, you stopped calling,” you say, your voice breaking. “You left me here alone, what was I supposed to do?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you wish you could see his face, wish you could understand what’s going through his mind. “I just… I thought we’d be okay,” he says finally, his voice sounding defeated. “That we’d get through this. Together.”

You take a shaky breath. “I thought so too,” you admit. There’s a silence that stretches on, heavy and suffocating.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, “have fun on your date.” And then he hangs up before you can say another word, leaving you staring at your reflection, feeling like you’ve lost him all over again.

part 2

The date wasn’t going great, you didn’t have much in common with the guy, and things got even worse. One minute you’re walking across the street after dinner, pretending to laugh at some lame joke he made, and the next, your ankle twists under you, the pain shooting up your leg like a lightning bolt. You try to catch yourself, but you land hard, knees buckling beneath you.

The guy freaks out, asking if you're okay, but all you can focus on is the pulsing pain in your ankle. You're pretty sure it's sprained, but you're too embarrassed to admit it right away. He helps you up, practically carrying you to the nearest bench, and that's when you finally let yourself wince in pain.

A trip to the hospital later and you’re sitting in one of those sterile, white rooms, cradling your swollen ankle in your lap. Nothing too serious, just a sprain, but it’s enough to make you feel like an idiot. The guy’s hovering by the door, looking uncomfortable, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how. You can’t blame him. The awkwardness between you is palpable, and this was supposed to be a fun night.

You’re ready to get out of there, but you don't want to be alone for the discharge process. The guy’s already looking at his phone like he’s counting the minutes. So, you make a decision.

You pull out your phone, thinking of someone nearby, someone who won’t make things more awkward. Aurora. You don’t really want to call her, but she lives in the neighborhood, and you can’t stand the idea of sitting here with the date guy. It's nothing against him – well, maybe it is, but you really just need a friend right now.

You hit call, and it rings a few times before she picks up, her voice bright and concerned.

“Hey, what’s up? You good?”

“I’m at the hospital,” you say quickly, the words sounding so much worse than they feel. “I sprained my ankle on the date, can you come? Please?”

Aurora doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course, I’m on my way.” You end the call, grateful she’s coming, and feeling a lot better knowing someone familiar will be here soon.

A few minutes later, the door swings open. You expect it to be Aurora, but when you look up, you freeze.

Pablo stands there, his eyes wide with concern, his posture stiff. And right next to him, Aurora is visibly cringing, her face flushed red. She’s holding her hands up in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean to –” she starts, but Pablo cuts her off.

“Are you okay?” His voice is frantic, as if you’re on the brink of death instead of sitting there with a sprained ankle.

You blink, taken aback by how he’s acting.

“I’m fine,” you say, a little too forcefully, but the last thing you need right now is to be treated like a patient. “Just a sprain. Nothing serious.”

Pablo doesn’t look convinced. He steps into the room, eyes scanning your ankle. He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to argue with him when he’s looking at you like that.

Aurora stands off to the side, a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry, I called him,” she whispers. “I thought you’d want him to know.”

“Really?” you ask, a little irritated now, because it’s clear Pablo doesn’t know how to handle this. You’re still pissed at him for the phone call earlier, but now? Now it feels like he’s intruding, even though you’re happy to see him, just not like this.

Pablo, still standing too close, suddenly shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know, I just… I thought I should be here,” he says, his voice a little quieter, like he’s realizing how ridiculous he’s being.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, trying to lighten the mood. “Seriously. I’m just waiting to be discharged.”

Before you can say anything else, the date guy clears his throat. You turn to see him stepping forward.

"Um, should I leave?" His voice is a little too high-pitched, trying to be polite but also clearly uncomfortable now that Pablo’s here. Pablo, who’s still looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re dying, shifts his eyes to the guy standing by the door.

“Who even are you?” Pablo’s tone is confused, but there's also a sharpness to it now, something territorial. It doesn’t make sense, but you can feel the weirdness between them.

You open your mouth, about to explain, but Pablo cuts you off.

“Is that the guy you just had a date with?” His eyes rake over him. "Yeah, you can leave now. I got it." He waves him off, voice firm and final, like he’s the one in charge here.

“Pablo, what the hell?” you snap. Your blood’s boiling, you look over at the date guy, who’s still standing there like he’s waiting for a command. “Yeah, you can go now,” you say, softer, sweeter than Pablo, but the sentiment’s the same. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pablo scoffs, and it’s the kind of sound that tells you he’s annoyed, but it’s also kind of funny, considering he’s the one who’s ruining the moment. You’re not sure if he’s jealous or if he’s just being an idiot, but it pisses you off all the same.

Once the date guy leaves, the silence between you and Pablo is loud. You cross your arms, staring at him like you’re daring him to keep pushing.

“Well, now you can leave!” you say, voice cool, as you face him. 

Pablo doesn't budge, though. "And how are you going home?" He sounds offended, like you’ve done something wrong by even suggesting that he should leave.

You roll your eyes. “Aurora can take me,” you mutter, already tired of the back-and-forth.

Pablo’s face twitches like he’s winning the argument. “I drove Aurora here,” he says, smug. Like the fact that he’s the one with the car makes him the one in control now.

Your eyes narrow, but deep down, you know you’ve got no choice. “Fine,” you grumble, defeated.

part 3

Pablo’s arms are strong, but his touch is gentle as he picks you up, carrying you bridal style like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands are steady as he lifts you, his face close to yours, it makes you feel like you're back in that place where everything between you two was simple. But that’s not the reality anymore, is it?

He doesn’t say a word as he carries you to the couch, setting you down so gently it’s almost too much. You want to tell him to back off, to let you handle it, but you catch something in his eyes that stops you – he’s looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, and you can’t deal with that, not right now.

“It’s just a sprain,” you say, but your voice cracks halfway through, and you hate yourself for it. You hate how kind he’s being, how his touch makes everything hurt even more.

Pablo shakes his head. “I miss you too,” he says, his voice low, almost broken. It’s a call back to the phone call, to what you said earlier, and it’s like he’s holding onto those words for dear life.

Your heart feels like it’s about to shatter. “Then let me go,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “We can’t be friends if I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He’s closer now, wiping the tears from your cheek, his hand lingering longer than it should. He’s too close, and you’re drowning in it. But you let him stay because, in some twisted way, it’s all you have left of him.

“Don’t go on dates with idiots,” he says, his voice is exasperated. “You don’t need them. You just need to be with me, and we can make it work. We can go back to how it was. I promise.”

You shake your head, trying to stop the tears that just won’t quit. “Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean no one else will,” you say, the words bitter on your tongue. “Don’t act like I can’t find someone who can make me happy.”

Pablo’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “You’re just doing this to get back at me, and you know it.”

You almost laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not trying to get back at you, I’m trying to move on. I can’t keep pretending we’re okay.”

“You don’t need someone else,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand clenched into a fist. “You never needed anyone else. You’ve always had me.”

“Not anymore,” you snap, your anger flaring. “I don’t have you anymore! You’ve shut me out like nothing happened!”

His eyes flash, he steps closer, his hand reaching out for you, but you flinch back, afraid of how close he is, afraid of what it means. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice so small. “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you say, your whole body trembling. “You just had to stay.”

His face falls, and for a second, you almost reach out to him. But you stop yourself. “I want my best friend back,” he says, his voice cracking.

“You don’t get that,” you shout, the words rushing out. “You can’t pretend I’m the same person I was before any of this happened. I’m not!”

“I don’t care!” His voice rises, raw and desperate. “I don’t care if it’s different, I just want you in my life. I don’t know what to do without you.”

You pull away. “You can’t keep saying that.”

He looks at you, devastated. He’s leaning closer now, his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin. It’s like he’s pretending nothing’s changed, pretending this is how things always were.

“Pablo –"

You push against his chest, the tears running down your face now, uncontrollable. “Please, just leave,” you say, your voice shaking, but you mean it.

You’ve had enough. You’re done.

But Pablo just looks at you, he doesn’t move, doesn’t leave, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s not going to listen.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breaking. "Just go."

Pablo’s hand brushes his own cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized fell. He speaks like he's trying to convince himself more than you. “I’ll come back,” he says. “To check on your injury, make sure you’re better.”

He looks away quickly. “I’ll take care of you... like you took care of me.” His words hang in the air, painfully.

You watch him go, every step tearing at you. As the door closes, you stare at it for a second, your body tensing as if it’s about to snap in two. And then you can’t take it anymore. You reach for the nearest pillow, throwing it at the door with every ounce of anger you’ve been holding inside.

“Idiot!” you scream, everything hurts – your heart, your head, your stupid, stupid tears.

You sit there, staring at the door, feeling the ache spread through your chest. It hits you like a punch – you haven’t touched him, haven’t held him in over a month. It feels like the end of everything, and it’s crushing you.

You curl up on the couch, hugging yourself, wishing things could go back to how they were before everything went wrong. But they can’t. All you have is the emptiness he left behind, and it’s swallowing you whole.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Only Star In The Sky - Jayvik

Viktor had never in his life met such a man as Jayce. Someone so strong and determined. Fascinated with breakthroughs and news discoveries. He really was a man after his own heart. 

But even still, he never really saw him. Days of Jayce working in the forge, or going out to give speeches. The times they get to spend most of together is the late nights in their lab when they should really be getting some sleep. Nothing but discoveries, machines, science, and Jayce. Viktor loves those nights.

But now.. Councilman Jayce? He scoffs lightly, nearly dropping his wrench. How will he balance the time? Scientist, working in the forge, councilman, and… Mel. And what about him? Where does he, Viktor, fit into that equation? This is why he just wishes he didn’t have to deal with these emotions. Emotions are just a hindrance upon humanity. He’s tried expressing those thoughts to Jayce, though, and he seemed rather perturbed by the idea. So maybe Viktor is the only one who believes that. 

“Viktor!” He jumps when Jayce explodes into the lab. He hasn’t stepped foot in here all week. 

“Jayce,” he responds, turning in his chair. 

“Sorry I haven’t been able to come in to help. Things have been busy. Mel, she uh-“

Viktor’s brain immediately started to ignore whatever it is that Jayce was saying as soon as he mentioned Mel. It’s not that he doesn’t like her. He really doesn’t. She’s confident and she gave them the chance to work on Hextech. She made them stars, not that that’s really what he wanted, but as long as he’s with Jayce, it’s not too bad. She’s not a bad person. But lately he just gets this.. exhausted feeling every time her name is brought up. A different kind of exhausted than he’s used to. 

Jayce takes a seat and rolls it over to Viktor’s side. “So, what are we working on?”

Viktor slowly raises his head. “Just fixing this one bit in the Hexgate.”

Jayce nods, eager to get back into working in the lab, leans over Viktor’s shoulder. “Need help with anything?”

“No..” Viktor says, shaking his head and Jayce nods. 

“Ok..” he says, moving a bit away from him. He thumps his pencil against the desk. “So, anything that I’ve missed?”

“No, not really.”

“No.. great discoveries?”

“No.”

“Ok,” Jayce says, leaning back in his chair. He could sense that there was something wrong with Viktor, but he couldn’t tell what. But whatever it was was making the room extremely stifling to be in. 

He tilts his head towards Viktor, looking at what he was working on. Days like these used to be some of his favorites. No words needed to really be spoken because they had their work and each other. But this was different. Jayce had no idea what the work was. He had no idea what Viktor was thinking. The room wasn’t comforting. 

Viktor worked deftly, and he always did. It’s what made him such a great partner. That and his brilliant thoughts, his ideas and presence. 

Seeing him work at his desk alone, though, was a strange sight. He felt like an outside observer. A person stargazing, rather than a star himself, with Viktor. 

“Viktor,” Jayce says. 

Viktor raises his head slightly. He looked so.. tired. But why wouldn’t he be? Working in the lab alone, plus his illness on top of it. 

“I just want to say, thanks for holding down the lab while I’ve been busy.”

Viktor stared at him with a neutral look before nodding a bit and looking back down at his work. “It’s no problem,” he says. 

Jayce frowns. “Well, it’s just that this means a lot. Seriously. Thanks, Viktor.”

Means a lot. Viktor almost scoffs. He wants to say how hurt he is, how mad he is. But when he looks up at Jayce, that hurt seems to just disappear. Affection. Affection is what’s holding him back. 

The door opens, followed by the clacking of heels. 

“Mel,” Jayce says. 

“You’re needed for a meeting, Jayce.” She turns toward Viktor and nods in greeting. Viktor does an awkward half wave before turning back. 

Jayce turns to his partner. “Um.. I’ll be back. Promise.”

“Of course,” Viktor says, knowing that ‘being back’ Will not be any time soon. 

He watches Jayce leave, about to put his arm around Mel’s shoulder, but stopping himself upon realizing it would be unprofessional to do during work. 

The doors close and the room seems to darken, leaving Viktor the dullest star in the world. 

Border by @enchanthings

[dedeinthewild]

Omd please if you could do a story where arvids girl is teasing him abt being more boyfriendy with pepe bcos they're in the 'honeymoon" phase and she gets jealous

soo, I'm really sorry 'cause it isn't exactly what you requested but I had an idea with Pepe and I wrote it down. Let me know if you like it anyways, or I will make one just like you wanted it!

pepe martí x reader, established relationship

~ "that's a terrible one"

Pepe was determined, kind, and so intelligent that he could make anyone smile just by meeting him.

But above all, he was dedicated.

He was deeply grateful for his journey in motorsport and always trusted the Red Bull driver academy and his team, despite the terrible luck that had made his season challenging.

With the two-month break from Formula 2, and his girlfriend busy with school, lessons, and studying, he had plenty of time to reconnect with the junior categories and work alongside the academy’s new entries.

Among them was the incredible Formula 3 rookie, Arvid Lindblad, who had left everyone in awe and was set to join Campos in the 2025 season.

In the preceding weeks, the Spaniard had traveled to Barcelona to watch the Eurocup3 and Spanish Formula 4 race weekends, reconnecting with his roots. Then, at the team’s request, he and Arvid attended the final MotoGP race, surprising everyone with their instant chemistry before even racing together.

On one side was the tall, polite, composed Spaniard who listened and responded with a smile. On the other was the whirlwind of words that was the British rookie, dressed in oversized trendy outfits, bringing a fresh vibe to Campos.

They had spent a lot of time together, laughing and creating content around the circuit, perfectly delivering what the team wanted while giving fans exactly what they loved.

A week later, Gaby and Christian had decided to organize a weekend in London with Pepe and his girlfriend.

“He’s got Arvid now; he won’t even look at me” his girlfriend joked to the British woman walking beside her, loud enough for Pepe to hear from ahead where he was walking with Christian.

“Sorry?” the Spaniard turned around, hands buried deep in the pockets of his blue jacket.

“I said you don’t even look at me anymore. You’ve got Arvid now.”

“He’s been cheating on me, and you didn’t care to tell me?” Christian chimed in, clutching his chest dramatically as they strolled through St. James’ Park.

Everyone burst out laughing while Pepe’s girlfriend tucked her hands into her scarf, hiding her nose and cheeks, which were slowly turning red from the cold.

“I’m sorry for cheating; Gaby will treat you right” Pepe teased Christian, pretending to steal his girlfriend while Christian clung to his own.

Pepe’s girlfriend, a petite five-foot-something figure walking beside him, smiled. Her hair was tucked into her scarf, and she breathed in the air of a London she loved.

“Are you cold?” Pepe asked, taking her hand and slipping it into the pocket of his Red Bull jacket, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

“I’m always cold, Pepe” she replied, knowing full well that her constant chilliness was something he always took care of.

Pepe and Christian had a strong bond, and seeing them together was a joy. So, when the F3 driver invited them for the weekend, they had packed their bags immediately. Spending time with Christian and Gaby also brought the two women closer, as they, like their boyfriends, perfectly complemented each other, creating a fun and close-knit group.

They loved teasing and joking with each other, and this was the perfect moment to poke fun at Pepe. His girlfriend seized the opportunity without hesitation.

“And what do you mean about Arvid?” Pepe asked, glancing down at her as they walked along the little path that ducks shared with their ducklings.

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past month. Don’t even get me started on those videos.”

Pepe chuckled, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if she was serious. She, however, maintained an honest expression.

“Are you saying that for real?”

“I mean, you’re really boyfriendy with him.”

“And I guess you’re implying that I’m not with you.”

Her head tilted back slightly, the wind brushing her cheeks as she gave him a playful smile. She was joking, and both of them knew it, but they were curious to see how far it would go.

“I mean, you spend a lot of time with him and look at him as if he were the love of your life.”

“And what should I say about you and Gaby?” he retorted, grinning. “You’re always going on your dates; I think she’s a pinned chat on your phone, and—”

She couldn’t help but laugh as Christian and Gaby lined up at a café while she and Pepe stopped, standing face-to-face.

This spot was one of her favorites in London, where she loved walking with a hot chocolate in hand, headphones in, and music blasting.

“I should remind you that it’s only because you’re in your honeymoon phase with Arvid. You’ll see the bad sides later.”

Pepe took her other hand, slipping it into his jacket pocket to warm it with his, moving closer with that sweet look he always wore.

“I have to say, it’s a great honeymoon nonetheless.”

She bit her cheek to keep a straight face, though her playful expression was giving her away.

“And what do you mean by bad sides?” he asked, curious. “Are there bad sides to being with me?”

“Many, many for sure.”

Pepe leaned down slightly, wrapping her completely in his arms and burying her face in his blue Red Bull jacket.

“List them, then,” he teased.

“You’re too nice, and everyone loves you.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, hugging him back, as Christian and Gaby returned with steaming cups of tea.

“That’s a terrible one" joked the Campos driver, kissing her forehead before handing her the cup Christian had given him.

As they strolled down The Mall, the four chatted, surrounded by a slightly windy but not too damp London, kissed by timid sunshine.

The scent of falling leaves mixed with the sweetness of candied almonds from nearby stands, while some passersby asked for directions, and others watched them laugh and enjoy their time together.

“Pepe and I decided something” his girlfriend suddenly announced, grabbing the attention of Christian and Gaby while Pepe played along.

“We’re splitting up but staying good friends,” she said seriously.

At that moment, the world seemed to crumble for the Australian and the Brit, whose jaws dropped as they stared at Pepe to figure out if it was a joke or the truth.

“We realized we have some differences that the other doesn’t enjoy, unlike with other people, so it’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?” Christian asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“We’ve had some flings” she replied casually.

Gaby, convinced that if those two broke up, she’d never believe in love again, couldn’t process it. Pepe and his girlfriend were the perfect match—two people who effortlessly connected in ways she’d never seen before.

“No, you haven’t” Gaby declared, shaking her head.

Pepe and his girlfriend smiled, struggling to keep the joke going, even though their friends’ sad, confused faces made them feel a bit guilty.

“With who?” Christian asked, earning a gentle smack on the hand from Gaby, who thought it wasn’t the time for such questions.

“Your girlfriend” they replied in unison.

The Australian furrowed his brow, confused.

“Both of you? Pepe?” He was at a loss for words.

“No, stop this nonsense; it’s not funny” he said, visibly upset.

At that moment, Pepe and his girlfriend burst into laughter, exchanging looks as if they had just pulled off the joke of the decade while walking ahead of the group.

“You assholes!” Christian exclaimed, exasperated.

“You actually believed it?” Gaby asked, holding onto Christian’s arm, relieved to see them laugh it off.

“As if you didn’t” Pepe retorted.

That evening, after a lovely dinner at a restaurant near Chinatown, they all headed back to their hotel, trying to teach Pepe how to navigate the Tube using a rule his girlfriend had devised.

“If you miss a train or anything, just get off at the first stop and wait there. We’ll come find you.”

“I’m not a child,” the Spaniard protested, sitting on one of the Piccadilly Line trains with his arms crossed, playfully nudging his girlfriend’s feet as she studied the map.

“I’m quite positive you are” she replied with a smile, focused on the intricate map, unaware that Pepe had taken out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

Later, once they were in their room, changed into their pajamas, and cuddled in bed watching a movie, Pepe sent her the photo.

As she opened the message, he began to speak.

“Honeymoon or not, you’re the only thing about me without bad sides” he said.

She smiled, her eyes soft and warm.

“And I love you like I love yapping about nerdy facts.”

“I think that’s the most thoughtful way you’ve told me you love me.”

Pepe leaned his head back against his hands.

“Still, maybe you’re right. I’m rather boyfriendy with Arvid.”

“Be careful, I’m a little jealous of you,” she said, giving him a quick kiss where his ear met his jawline.

“You said it—everyone loves me,” he joked, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer, breathing in her scent and feeling as though, even fifty years from now, they would still be just like this.

Because, as Gaby thought, if those two ever broke up, no one would believe in love anymore.

Beyond all the jokes and teasing, Pepe and that girl had found each other through some stroke of fate, and they were never meant to let each other go.

~ not proofread or anything so there might be a few errors, I hope you all like it 🍀

(please find me a pepe, thanks)

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 2 (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1 here.

Warnings: Profanities, smut, alcohol consumption and cigarette use. Age gap (reader!22)

MINORS DNI

-

You were in a separate room at the Corinium with Seb, Declan, and Cameron Cook, discussing how to take down Rupert Campbell-Black. Ever since the incident at the Jones' dinner party, Declan has been hell-bent on taking down Rupert. There were folders filled to the brim on his desk with blackmail, although much of it was already public news.

"We've done all this research on Rupert," Seb starts, looking toward the three of you from the bulletin board of newspaper cuttings. "But what if he won't agree to be interviewed?" He queries.

"Don't worry, he will." Cameron affirms, leaning over the desk. "Alright. So, we start with the horsewhipping and move up to the cabinet minister's wife and his daughter."

"Wrong," Declan interjects. "English people care more about horses than they do women. We end with the horses and the Olympics."

You scoff, Tony Baddingham entering the room rather abruptly to sneak a glance at the work the team has done collectively.

"Imagine if this works," Tony says, his hands on his hips. "We annihilate the smug fucker on national television."

"Well-" You begin.

"Hello." Charles Fairburn says, entering the room suddenly with clipboard in hand. "What time do you want us all for the party tonight, Declan?" He asks eagerly.

"Oh. Wasn't expecting to see you there, Charles." Tony says with arrogance.

"Um," Declan closes his eyes with annoyance. "Eight o'clock should be grand. Are you okay Charles?" He asks. "You look a little worn."

"Uh, my mother's not been very well." Charles responds. "There's only me, so it's not been easy."

"Sorry." Declan says.

You look over at Seb, who simply shrugs as the rest of the room continues to make conversation about the party.

"Are you going?" You ask, to which Seb nods.

"Taggie invited me, I'm assuming you as well?"

"Yeah, she did." You and Taggie became friends over the French four-course menu at the Jones', assisting her with the menu due to her dyslexia. There was a fiasco over Rupert groping her, to which Declan nor you took well the next day in office. You were invited to the dinner for some reason, although you knew it was per Freddie's request. He saw something between you and Declan that no one else did, that was for certain.

"And Cinderella will go to the ball," Tony says, placing a hand on Cameron's shoulder and bringing your attention back to the room. "Just not this one. Happy New Year, all." He announces, walking away as Declan presses his hand to his forehead.

You hear a champagne bottle pop in the distance, wincing with your two higher ups.

"Oh Christ, it would be quieter to work from home." Declan states. "Let's pick this up next week, yeah?" He asks of you and Seb, the both of you nodding as the commotion in the office becomes louder. He leaves hastily, you and Seb lingering behind to gather your belongings.

"See you later, yeah?" Seb says rhetorically, a grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, see you." You say, exiting the office briskly to eventually make your way home as your duties were no longer needed for the afternoon.

-

As you cooked yourself a mediocre meal with the radio playing in the distance, the phone rings. You turn off the stove, wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging off your stove as you take the phone off the hook. "Hello, y/n speaking." You say.

"Hey, it's Taggie." Taggie says timidly on the other side of the phone.

"Taggie, hi! What's up?" You ask, leaning against the wall.

"I just need someone to talk to, y/n." She explains, sighing. "It's too grand of a party my mother has thrown, I feel like I'm drowing in potato peels. Plus, she's sat herself beside Rupert." She says harshly, groaning as you hear yelling in the distance.

"Are you serious?" You say, twirling the cord between your fingers. "What a mess, Christ. Are you okay?" You ask,

"No, I just..." She sighs. "Remember that Ralphie boy I told you about? Well, he's shown up with a girlfriend." She exasperates.

"Oh, Taggie... Gag me with a spoon!" You exclaim, using your west coast slang. "I can come over earlier if you'd like, it's no problem at all." You say.

"No, no." She says, speaking to someone else in the room quickly before returning to the phone. "It's alright. I'll see you at eight, yeah?" She reaffirms.

"Yes, of course. Be easy on yourself, please. We can get super fucking drunk together and forget about it all." You jest, hearing Taggie laugh on the other line.

"Yes, course. See you later, y/n."

You hang up the phone, sighing as you cross your arms. Tonight was going to be real grand, whether you liked it or not.

-

You pull up to The Priory with your car that you bought for cheap, the engine louder than the camera shutters in the distance. You turn off your vehicle, stepping out of it and closing the door behind you. A velvet dress mimicking the style of the 40s clung to your waist, your hair cascading just past your shoulders. The blinding of camera flashes hits you as you approach the home, gripping your clutch for dear life.

"Y/n!" Daysee yells, beckoning you over.

You join her eagerly, entering the house together. You were taken aback by the guests and decorations, a glass of champagne already shoved in your hand. You and Daysee approach Sarah Stratton, who was accompanied by Lizzie and and James Vereker.

"I thought there was supposed to be celebrities here tonight." Daysee says in a tone of disappointment.

"Well there's definitely one." James chimes, referring to himself.

"Where?" Daysee says excitedly, looking elsewhere as you stifle a laugh at the interaction.

You glance around the room, noticing Taggie on the other side. You make your way over to her, placing your now empty glass on a table surface.

"Taggie!" You exclaim, getting the attention of your friend.

She instantly smiles, meeting you in the middle to give you a hug. "God, I'm so happy to see you y/n." She says, rubbing your arms before dropping her hands to her sides. "If I have to keep watching Ralphie with his girlfriend I might put a barrel in my mouth." She mutters, grabbing ahold of your hand. "Care for a tour?"

"Always, love." You say, grinning as Taggie leads you away from the crowd. You pass Declan, giving him a smile and a wave as you disappear around the corner, his eyes scanning over your entire body within seconds.

Taggie grabs a bottle of wine from the kitchen table, taking a swig before handing it over to you. "He gifted me a bracelet, I just thought I meant more than that." She whispers, putting her head in her hands as Caitlin bursts into the room.

"The bracelet's from Rupert!" She exclaims, nearly clearing you as you hold onto the table for stability. "Christ, sorry y/n." She exclaims.

"What?" Taggie says in dismay.

"It's 'R' for Rupert! He feels bad for touching you up at the Jones's." Caitlin exclaims.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you take a swig of the wine bottle.

"Sounds about right. Too much money, too little sense." A woman you have yet to get the name of comments as her son lays upon the kitchen table beside her.

"Oh, wow. England is surely more entertaining than home." You mumble, scratching the back of your head. "What are you gonna do Tag?" You ask, Taggie looking off to the side in thought as she takes off the bracelet and discards it by the sink.

"Nothing." She snaps, taking an open bottle of champagne and swigging it. "Let's go celebrate Patrick's birthday, yeah?" She remarks, exiting the kitchen as you and Caitlin exchange worried looks.

The three of you re-enter the dining space, Caitlin explaining that your name card was beside hers, and shockingly beside Rupert Campbell-Black and Maud O'Hara. You watch with curiosity as Maud laughs a little too loud at Rupert's remarks, your eyes trailing elsewhere. You find yourself looking at Declan, who was watching Maud.

He says something dismissively to Tony's wife before standing up and walking away, taking a path that led him outside.

"I'll be back." You tell Caitlin, who nods in response. You follow Declan through a door that leads towards the open acres, spotting him lighting a cigarette in the middle of a field. You slowly approach him, holding the bottle of wine to your chest.

He spots you, taken aback by our presence. "Y/n, nice to see you." He says warmly, putting out the cigarette in the grass underneath his shoe.

"Likewise." You say, standing face to face. "How're you doing?" You ask, taking a swig of your bottle.

He raises his brows at your bottle, chuckling. "Could be better. How'd you get ahold of my wine?" He asks, pointing to the vessel in your hand.

"Taggie." You simply say, stretching out your arm. "Would you like some?"

He hesitates before taking the bottle, taking a large swig from it before sighing. "So you know about Ralphie, then?"

"Yeah, real pity. Your daughter is wonderful, he's cruel to not realize that." You say, taking the bottle back as Declan hands it to you.

"Thanks for being here for her, she really admires you." Declan says, smiling. "We both do." He admits.

You begin to smile, white knuckling the neck of the bottle. "She has a great father, that's why she's so lovable Declan." You say, giving him a look of longing. "I see Maud's distracted." You bring up cautiously, watching as Declan pulls out another cigarette and lights it. You hear Foreigner's I Wanna Know What Love Is start to play in the distance, setting the mood in a rather ironic feat.

"No, really? I had no idea." Declan spats, looking up at the dark night before returning your gaze. "I have tried everything! Fucking everything to keep her happy, yet for some bloody fucking reason it's my god damn fault!" He yells, breathing heavily as you watch him with wide eyes.

"Declan-" You try to interject.

"She goes on and tries to fuck whoever she wants but I can't help but feel guilty whenever I look at you! God that fucking dress of yours!" He exclaims, gesturing towards you. He doesn't realize what he has admitted until he sees your reaction.

Your jaw drops slightly, taking in his words. "You... what?" You whisper.

He stares at you, his actions dawning over him. "Y/n, I-I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to come out like that." He admits, tossing his second cigarette to the ground. He takes a step closer to you. "Ever since you started working at Corinium, you have never left my mind. You are the one thing I cannot let myself have, yet I think of you every waking hour." He explains, watching you closely as he continues. "When we danced at Bar Sinister and you left me in the dust, I felt defenseless. I wanted you so fucking badly, but I kept thinking of Maud. But now that I'm here, I don't care anymore. She can have what she wants, as long as I can get what I want." He whispers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You toss the half-empty bottle of wine to the side, letting it pour onto the grass as you grab his face and press your lips against his.

He eagerly pulls you in, hungrily kissing you like he had been waiting for centuries. You pull at his tie, undoing a the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal his chest, running your hands over it. The two of you fall to the ground, Declan unzipping your dress slightly to move his hand underneath the fabric. He maneuvers his free hand between your legs, rubbing gently against the fabric of your underwear as you moan against your own will.

"Declan-!" You say, tilting your head back in pleasure as his fingers slip into you, pumping feverishly as he reconnects his lips with yours.

"Y/n," He moans, kissing across your jaw as he begins to suck on the space between your neck and collarbone. His other hand finds your breast, kneading it gently as you try to keep your composure.

You couldn't believe that Declan O'Hara was fingering you by the tree line, but sometimes wildest dreams come true. You nearly yelped as you felt his mustache graze your clit, his mouth now fucking you as his fingers teased your bulb.

"Declan, please." You whimper, your hand running through his hair as he looked up at you from between your legs. You find yourself nearing your climax, your thighs pressing against his head as your back arches in ecstasy. You finally come undone into his mouth, your hand pushing his head away as you became too sensitive to the touch.

Declan smiles as you as he sits up, pulling you forward by your lower back to reconnect your lips. You could taste yourself on his mouth, somehow even more enamored by his actions.

"God, you are so beautiful when you cum, y'know that?" He murmurs, pressing more kisses along your neck.

You smile in contentment, tilting your head back. "If you enjoy it so much, do it as many times as you wish Declan." You whisper, pressing kisses against his ear as your hand palmed against his groin.

He groans, pulling his head back. "Mm, we'll have to arrange meetings in my office then." He says, kissing you once more. You start to undo his pants, which he tsks you for. "We have my son's birthday to celebrate. This can wait." He murmurs, redoing the button on his dress pants as he stands up, offering a hand.

You eagerly grab his hand, pulling yourself up onto your unstable legs. "Do you think anyone saw us?" You whisper, looking around.

"No, I highly doubt it. Everyone's inside completely smashed." He reassures, not realizing Charles had been waiting out in the garden for his secret lover, watching every move made between the two of you against his own wishes.

"For both of our sakes, I hope not." You say, recouping as Declan gestures for you to re-enter the home, giving himself a minute by lighting up another cigarette and fixing his attire before he enters.

A few moments later, you find a space between Seb and Taggie as Declan joins his wife in singing Happy Birthday for Patrick.

The clover cake is lit up beautifully, Patrick blowing out the candles as you all cheer. The attendees all sit down hastily as Declan begins his speech by tapping on the mic repetitively.

"Today we celebrate my son, Patrick, who was born New Year's Eve, 21 years ago." A few yells echo through the space before Declan continues, your eyes watching him closely.

"My son, makes me prouder than any father ever was." Declan says, attempting to hold back tears as you and Taggie awe in sync. "Yeats wrote, 'Life is a long preparation for something that never happens'. But when I look at my son..." He takes a beat, looking directly at Patrick. "I think Yeats was wrong." He places a hand on his son's shoulder before continuing. "My son was a brilliant boy, who is now a brilliant man. He has happened." He says towards the crowd, raising a glass.

You notice Taggie seeming disheartened by the statement, your hand placed upon her shoulder in silent comfort as she gives you a soft smile.

"So please raise your glasses for my clever boy, now a man. To Patrick!" Declan finishes, the entire room whopping with joy for his son.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Taggie, who simply nods.

"I'm fine." She whispers before Patrick takes hold of the mic.

Your paranoia with your actions between you and Declan were already taking flight as you worried about someone seeing the two of you earlier, grabbing ahold of a discarded glass of champagne and raising it in toast for Patrick before slamming it back.

Patrick thanks his parents, beginning to thank a third party before his words come to a halt.

"Holy shit. Celestial light." He says into the mic, causing the whole room to turn their focus on whatever he was looking at.

Cameron Cook.

The whole crowd murmurs as Patrick begins counting down for New Years. You check your watch, leaning towards Taggie as you see him walk towards Cameron. "He's way too early." You mumble, watching in shock as Patrick kisses Ms. Cook.

You glance over at Declan, who seems bemused by his son's actions before you move your gaze to Tony Baddingham, who was most definitely sleeping with Cameron and surely not pleased with the sight. No one seemed happy about the actions bestowed upon them.

You notice Taggie looking over at Ralphie and his girlfriend, causing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek to distract her. "Happy New Year!" You exclaim quietly, Taggie giving you a force smile before exiting hastily.

You noticed Rupert watching her moves, causing your brows to furrow at the sight of Mr. Campbell-Black.

The crowd starts to sing in song, random goers linking hands with you as you watch Declan from a distance. He makes eye contact with you, giving you a subtle wink as you both look elsewhere. You smiled to yourself, not realizing the weight of what was yet to come.

Happy New Year, indeed.

-

oh my oh wow oohhh naughty naughty... I think i have to do a part three now ohh noooo blasphemy. thanks for reading as always and please do interact with my posts, it reminds me to keep the ball rolling :D

much love,

isabel

[noxemma]

Dean

It takes Dean a long time to realize that it was gone. Partially because it was a new addition and partially because he was used to the old weight and heft of Baby’s keys. But all the sudden it hit him on a random Thursday afternoon as he, Sam, and Cas piled back Baby after stopping for gas on their way to investigate a case.

He blinks a few times at the set of keys in his hand trying to figure out what is different before he realizes that the silver mustache engraved with the words I'm your huckleberry is nowhere on the keyring. He's not sure how he could have lost it because there isn't even a dangling keyring or chain to indicate that it had been ripped off.

He pats his pockets first, not really holding any hope that it had magically fallen off on its own but needing to check anyway, before fully exiting the car. Ignoring the questions from his brother and the curious gaze of the angel in the backseat, he searches the floor and all the other crevices where lost items usually ended up collecting in Baby.

No luck. The keychain was simply gone.

He's more dejected than he should be at the realization that it's gone for good. After all, he can't remember the last time he'd seen it after adding it to Baby's keys several weeks ago, so he has no way of knowing when or where he'd actually lost the Tombstone memento.

Dean knows he could always buy another one, but it wouldn't quite be the same. It wouldn't be the one he'd gotten because he'd nearly combusted when Cas had quoted the Doc Holliday line to him in a cowboy hat, wouldn't be the same one he'd bought out of sheer giddiness at getting Cas back.

"Earth to Dean? Hello? Possible shtriga killing off kids?" Sam calls, hand on the door to get out and probably shake Dean if he doesn't respond soon.

"Shit, sorry. I just, uh, realized I lost something," Dean mumbles, sliding back into the driver's seat, quickly starting Baby, and pulling out onto the highway.

"Dude, please tell me you didn't lose your gun again!" Sam teases.

"First off, I didn't lose it, Bella stole it from me, and second, no I did not lose my gun," Dean scoffs back.

"Okay, so what did you lose?"

"... nothing."

"Oh, nothing?" Sam pitches his voice low and gruff in a bad imitation of his brother, "Mr. five-minute-break-tops-otherwise-you're-getting-left-behind got out of the car and did a deep sweep of the seats for 'nothing?'"

Dean remains silent but Sam keeps pestering, even going so far as to start guessing what Dean could lost.

"Pocket knife? Clip of silver bullets? MapQuest directions? One of the burner phones?" Sam lists normal things before moving on to ludicrous ones as Dean refuses to budge. "Pie coupon? Your Swiftie friendship bracelet? Lucky condom?"

Cas

"Lucky condom? Really, Sam?"

"Could be? Oh! Your favorite issue of-"

"A keychain, goddamit! I lost a keychain," Dean growls knuckles gripping the steering wheel tighter as he finally answers his brother's nagging.

Cas' hand instinctively goes into the pocket of his trench coat, fingers wrapping around the smooth metallic surface hidden in there.

Sam gapes at his brother open-mouthed for several seconds.

"All that fuss for a keychain? What? Was it made of gold?"

"No, it was just ... I got it when we had that case in Dodge City. It was, I don't know, sentimental? You know what? It doesn't matter. It was just a dumb keychain."

Dean says the words with a smile and a laugh, but Cas can tell from Sam's frown that he doesn't believe the older Winchester either.

"No, if it was important to you, I can keep an eye out for it. What did it look like? A cowboy hat or something?"

Cas' brow furrows in confusion as Dean adjusts his grip and pinkness begins to suffuse his neck and ears.

"Seriously, Sam. It's okay, I just had a moment when I realized I lost it. All good. Really no need to worry about it."

I should tell him, should give it back. I didn't think he really cared about it that much since he didn't notice it was gone, but he's acting oddly about it with Sam, Cas thinks as his fingers trace the curving edges and smooth over the indents of the engraving. Guilt begins to claw at his insides, especially as Dean slumps after a few moments when Sam is no longer scrutinizing him.

He hadn't meant to steal it. Or rather he'd meant to return it much sooner after he'd seen it on Dean's keys. He'd only really wanted to look at it more closely but Dean had come back and for some reason he'd shoved the small keychain into his pocket where it had lived ever since. He'd grown attached to the feel and weight and reassurance of it, though he wasn't exactly sure why the innocuous item should provide him any comfort.

That's not entirely true, I suppose I associate it with good memories. The case in Dodge City was ... enjoyable. I got to spend a lot of time with Dean and he bought me a cowboy hat. He was so excited and happy and ... and he said he was glad to have me back, that I was 'a big win.'

Cas knows that he shouldn't have been eavesdropping on the brothers' conversation, but it had been hard not to in the hotel room. And the spark of warmth and pride that bloomed in his chest from hearing that he, or rather his return, had been the cause for Dean's happiness hadn't faded. In fact, it had only gotten stronger, hence his attachment to the pilfered keychain.

He still wasn't sure why Dean had gotten it, and his confusion had only increased with the recent exchange between Sam and Dean. Because Cas knew that Dean hadn't gotten the Tombstone themed keychain in Dodge City. Which meant that he had gone out of his way to look for and purchase the small novelty, but Cas couldn't figure out why, which is the reason he'd held on to it for so long and not replaced it like he'd intended. Or at least, that was how he rationalized keeping the otherwise meaningless trinket.

It means something to Dean and I want to know what. I want to know why he looked so sad when he couldn't find it, Cas muses as the conversation dies in the car. Dean turns up the music but even the blaring rock is not enough to drown out Cas' next thought.

I want to know how to make Dean care about me as much.

---

He waits for the right moment to return the keychain to Dean or to tell him that he borrowed it for a while, to explain his actions, but no time seems to be right.

So, Cas decides that he'll simply put the keychain back onto Dean's keyring when they all head back to the motel to crash before beginning the return trip back to Lebanon.

He sits in the dark until he's sure Dean and Sam are truly asleep, sprawled on their respective beds. Sam, put together as always, is comfortably tucked under the blankets while Dean is haphazardly passed out, still dressed and with his boots on, snoring none to softly.

Cas takes just a moment to stare down at him fondly, dares to let his fingertips brush through the sleep ruffled hair before he makes his way to where the Impala's keys are tossed onto a coffee table.

He pulls out the keychain from his pocket and gives it one last appreciative caress before he begins trying to reattach it to the keyring.

"Cas?" Dean's slurred voice calls out, startling him into dropping the keys and keychain into a clattering mess on the floor.

"Cas, what are you-? Are you okay?" Dean tumbles off of the bed and makes it to his side where Cas is fumbling to try and hide the evidence of his reverse burglary.

"I'm fine, Dean. I'm sorry for waking you, I, um, bumped the keys off the table," Cas explains to the ground.

"Uh, what," Dean clears his throat and Cas clenches his eyes as Dean's hand closes around the mustache glinting in the low light. "Where did-? Cas, you found it?"

Cas has to tell him, can't bear the thought of Dean misinterpreting his actions as chivalrous, can't bear the joy and warmth bleeding out of his eyes and smile.

"I ... stole it from you. I had intended to return it, but I grew attached to it and so, when you didn't miss it, I kept it. I didn't know that it was that important to you until I saw your reaction the other day when you realized it was gone. And then I couldn't find the right way or right time to tell you and well, I'm sorry, Dean. It was wrong of me."

Dean

Dean's brain takes far too long to comprehend what Cas is telling him and why the angel looks so damn stricken with sadness and guilt. But once the words and their meanings finally penetrate his thick skull the only reaction he has is to laugh.

"Dean? This is not humorous. I stole from you; you should be upset," Cas hisses at him, sparing a glance to where Sam still sleeps soundly.

"Cas, man. How could I be upset with you over that? It's actually really cute. If I'd known you liked it that much, I would have given it to you and gotten myself another one."

"That makes no sense. You were clearly distraught about its absence earlier," Cas mutters, for some reason intent on making an issue of this.

"Okay, well, I probably would be upset if it was anyone else, but, shit, Cas I got it because it reminded me of you. So that's why it's kind of funny that you saw it and wanted to keep it. I guess it was just meant for you," Dean explains, trying not to devolve into laughter again when Cas tilts his head in confusion. "I, uh, ordered it after Dodge City, the gunslinger ghoul, remember? And um well, we were sitting in the car and I told you to act like the people in Tombstone and you thought I meant the city but I said, no the movie and then you, uh, you did a really deep voice and said Doc Holliday's huckleberry line and you'd just come back from the dead and I don't know. I wanted to commemorate it somehow? I mean, despite having to crawl through a nasty tunnel, it was kind of an awesome case. I mean we got to stay at that sweet hotel and you were there and cowboys and we got to wear cowboy hats and... and..." Dean tapers off his ramble with a wince as he realizes just how lovesick he sounds. "Anyway, you can have it. In fact, I want you to have it if it makes you happy."

Dean presses the keychain into Cas' palm, manually wrapping the angel's fingers around it when he doesn't move. Dean lets his own hand linger, bolder in the darkened room.

"I, it does, Dean. Thank you."

Dean looks up at Cas' thick whispered words, startled to find emotion welling in the other man's eyes.

"It, the reason that I liked in in the first place was because it reminded me of that case as well, of how happy you were with your cowboys."

"Hey, you're my cowboy too, my huckleberry, remember," Dean blurts, a little giddy with the way the moonlight filters into Cas' blue eyes and highlights his scruff laden jaw. A little drunk off the fact that Cas has let him continue his quasi-handholding

"Yes, Dean," Cas lets out a huff of laughter before staring straight into Dean's eyes, "I'm your huckleberry."

Perhaps it's the way Cas breathes the words like an oath, or the residual adrenaline in his system, or the moonlight pooling around them and glinting off the damned keychain peeking out of their tangled fingers, or maybe it's a combination of all those things that compels Dean to slip his hand from Cas' to reach behind the angel's head and wrap his fingers in the soft dark strands and pull surprised lips to his own.

Cas doesn't move right away, stiff and still against Dean searching kiss.

He pulls back, afraid he's just made the greatest mistake of his life, but then Cas is surging forward back into him.

Dean can't help but laugh into the kiss when he feels a cool length of metal swing into his neck where Cas' hands have attached themselves. Then he's not laughing at all because Cas takes advantage of Dean's open mouth to deepen the kiss.

Random SPN Prompt

Dean didn't know how he could have lost it.

Cas didn't know the best time to tell Dean he stole it.

[megamindsupremacy]

dances in here 💃

Have you ever seen Batman: The Brave and the Bold? I've watched like two episodes of the cartoon, and not in order. But, there were episodes that had Captain Marvel team up with Batman and it was amazing! In one of those episodes Batman gets turned into a child and continues to become younger as a result of an attack from the monster society, fortunately the Marvel family (Billy, Mary, and Freddy) help him and fight the monster society +Mr. Mind. Great episode, but it really made me think that Justice League Unlimited really missed out on having Captain Marvel not be in that episode where the league turns into kids.

Do you think there were any other missed opportunities for Captain Marvel in Justice League Unlimited or Young Justice, or any other DC animated show?

(Sorry for the sudden ask, just wanted to scream about Captain Marvel to you)

Okay so im going to be completely honest. I haven't seen Batman tBatB but you're so right that JLU totally missed out by not including Billy in the kids episode of JLU (and just. more in general. put him in every episode please).

I also haven't watched a ton of JLU- a few months back I decided to watch it but I started in season two and just started clicking on episodes whose summaries interested me, so very out of order and very chaotic (I also didn't realize it was a sequel series to the Justice League series so that was confusing). I definitely missed the Billy episode in JLU (he fights mind-controlled superman, right?), so I also definitely have to go back and watch that one when I finally get around to watching JLU in order correctly.

So unfortunately, I can't say for sure if there were any missed Billy opportunities in DC shows (besides throw him in everything Please) because I haven't watched. Any of them.

[kuradex]

day 260 Swampert

buy stickers, commission a pokemon, or support me on kofi!

[kyonshi-8610]

omg saw the tags on the lolita dress reblog. i love toshiro my babygirl... i already drew one of those, but i think it'd be lovely to see him in outfits that falin disliked? like. her gifting them to him instead

[valhallavalgrace]

Leo, what has been your favorite “to-the-death” activity thus far? I feel there has to be a workshop-to-the-death somewhere in that hotel.

LEO: I think maybe Magnus was right about talking about the past… I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet, but thinking about it and doing things that remind me of my old life, it feels like progress. prev ask (also about activities!)