#and then the apartment was so hot bc the air conditioner broke

[thedisablednaturalist]

I got so stressed about the money issues that I flared up. It probably didn't help that I had to wheel through the pouring rain to get to my apartment.

[notjanine]

the ac broke in my apartment and t*xas has been so so hot, so i’ve spent the week at Books’ place and it’s been. gosh

sunday, i went for a good hike with a friend, met Books at work for their lunch break, and then went to theirs. monday, we studied together and played mario kart (first time since i was a child!). tuesday, i studied while they were in (zoom) class and then i went to the movies (twbb my beloved!) to give them some breathing room to decompress after their counseling session; late in the evening we went to the gym together and then for a delightful night swim bc the courtyard pool was empty and dark and warm and i haven’t been swimming in probably a decade but it’s so hot and it was so lovely. i had been planning on doing a fun outdoor activity for the solstice on wednesday, but it was blistering out there, so we stayed in, indulgently enjoyed the air conditioner, rewatched s1 of the bear, and ordered takeout from a jamaican place that’s gradually becoming one of my favorite restaurants in the city. today we slept late and chilled out until i came back to my place.

tomorrow night, we’re going to a party together. next week will also surely be delightful. they’re getting a weekend off next month and i’m gonna plan something fun for them. i’m hoping that this is a good indicator of what our life will be like together. i can’t wait to find out!

[soleilnomoon]

OKAY, one more!!! And I'll stop harassing you (for a lil bit) how about Reader scores a spot in a major competition TV show that makes the participants do extreme/weird challenges (think Squid Game but maybe less deadly, or it can be deadly that's up to you). On your first day of the competition Y/N has been partnered with a handsome and over-confident (Gojo!) stranger you instantly despise. Enemies to lovers trope. They have to work together to win or will they just sabotage each other? \o/

hi babylove🥰️🥰️🥰️, you're always so patient for me, i could marry u, yk that??? anyway, i had way too much fun writing this, and if i didn't stop, we'd have a 10k fic on our hands (not that i'm complaining bc you of all ppl know i would write that for u if u ask it of me), but gojo is a menace and relatively tame!!! sort of!!! this def is leaning more towards the squid game route, which is probably why it'll have to have a part 2 (maybe a 3 or a 4, who knows) anyway, yk i'm a sucker for enemies to lovers, that's my ultimate jam ❤️️

3.4k words (shh i know), sfw (slightly suggestive), 18+, mdni; angst, angst, angst; reader is broke as hell and gojo is obnoxious af; the competition is definitely shady, and the host doesn't make anything better, but we all love a good mystery, right? no real warnings other than gojo is a pretty mfer who needs to sit his pretty ass down somewhere.

several stacks of envelopes litter the kitchen table, accompanied by an untouched plate with a now cold breakfast — a poached egg, thin slices of burnt, buttered toast, a few measly grapes, and half of a banana. lukewarm café con leche sits a small mug with a faded design on the front and a chip on the handle, surrounded by torn pieces of napkin, the piles growing by the minute.

a light flickers in and out from above, the last working bulb as the others have all gone out and are too damn expensive to replace; the air conditioner went out a week ago, and, even with the windows open, the heat somehow finds its way into the apartment building, cooking its inhabitants without a second thought.

after staring at a suspicious spot on your wall, your vision blurs and you blink rapidly in the hopes that it’ll return properly. you stopped opening the envelopes after you found the fifth bill. everything is due, and you have nothing to show for it.

“damn it.”

hot, bitter tears roll down your cheeks, ones you ignore and don’t bother wiping away; a pink envelope catches your eye and you grab it without thinking. there’s no return address on the front, but your name is written in an elegant script with silver ink.

you briefly wonder if it’s another wedding invitation, which only makes you laugh out loud — your friends stopped inviting you ages ago, after you kept flaking. a familiar ache plagues your chest, and you rub at it absently; you don’t like thinking about stuff like that, about friends you couldn’t keep, about promises you kept breaking. it was never intentional on your part, not really, but circumstances brought you to where you are now.

there’s no going back.

ripping the envelope open, you don’t see anything inside but a small business card at the bottom. it’s completely black save for an address that’s printed on the front in white ink. blinking repeatedly, you turn the card around, don’t find a name or even a business logo. strange. very, very strange.

“whatever, probably nothing serious.” you toss the card in the trash and clear the kitchen table.

more pink envelopes find you as the week goes on — on the windshield of your car, tucked neatly under your windshield wiper; on top of your keyboard at work, where you look around suspiciously to see who could’ve left it there; and in your tote where you carry groceries, which surprises you as it wasn’t in there before you went into the store.

“fine!” you exclaim loudly, tossing the last envelope onto your messy bed. “i’ll go to whatever stupid address you keep trying to lure me to.” you’re not sure who you’re talking to, but clearly someone desperately wants you to see them. and, after all the bullshit that life’s thrown at you, what do you have to lose?

your life? your dignity? your sanity?

on your day off, you decide to check out the address in question. it’s a little over an hour away, but you don’t care. curiosity gets the best of you, has you driving faster than usual — you tend to stick to the speed limit most days — music blasting as you eat a granola bar, giving yourself a mini-pep talk as you try to guess what could be waiting for you at your destination.

when you arrive, you’re surprised to see a crowd of people outside of an isolated building. you suppose that this is where your mysterious stalker wanted to go, so you keep to the back of the crowd, hoping to just hear what they have to say and leave. the card sits heavily in your wallet; you’re not sure why you brought it with you, but you didn’t want to take any chances — you’re stuck in your thoughts and barely notice the crowd has quieted down significantly, parting swiftly to allow for a tall man to stride through. he’s dressed sharply — slim fit suit with a tie to match, hair neat, face blemish free. everything about him screams elegance, but something about his eyes — the sharpness of his gaze, of how he commands silence without even speaking — sends a chill down your spine.

you’re rarely spooked, but something about him tells you he’s not to be taken lightly.

“welcome, welcome,” he says after a while, a small mic is attached to the lapel of his suit jacket, and stands on the small stage in front of the crowd. you hadn’t noticed it before — probably because you’re all the way in the back, but you strain your neck and try to listen anyway. “you all have been chosen to participate in a competitive show, where you have the chance to win millions of dollars.” that gets the crowd going. you jump when everyone starts shouting and clapping, voicing their approval of the grand prize.

with a tight-lipped smile on, the man continues, “it won’t be easy, but if you put in hard work, it’ll be worth it in the end.” you find that his words are vague enough to absolve him — and whoever is financing this endeavor — of whatever happens should something happen to the participants. no one else seems bothered by this, though, and you know you shouldn’t get hung up on it, but your gut is rarely wrong about these things.

“sounds like a load of shit,” comes a smooth voice behind you; with a slight frown, you turn around and are greeted with a cheeky grin from the person behind you. he has on a pair of dark sunglasses — so dark you wonder how he’s able to see through them — with an all-black attire, a startling contrast to his pallid skin and frighteningly light hair — so silver it’s practically white. you don’t like that his voice is pleasing, you also don’t like the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his head as he towers over you.

gojo satoru isn’t necessarily strapping for cash, but he loves a good challenge — plus adding more money to his reserve can’t hurt; the idea of fame and fortune is lucrative enough to make him want to participate freely. he’s noticed that most of the people gathered here today are either in dire financial situations or just like the idea of being on TV. he pities them, and you, apparently.

he spotted you immediately when you arrived, having been there early enough to scope out the competition — you were the last one to come, and you didn’t seem apologetic for your tardiness. he runs his tongue along the back of his teeth, noting how pretty you are, despite looking like you don’t want to be bothered — and, naturally, he wants to do just that; push you and see how far you’re willing to let him dig until you snap.

something tells him it’ll be a sight to see.

despite having chugged two energy drinks, you still feel tired. you run a hand through your hair, tugging on a particularly stubborn curl, brown fingers untangling it, fuming when it doesn’t cooperate the way you want it to, as he watches closely. you can feel his eyes on you, but you’re not sure — again, his sunglasses are too dark for you to tell.

“do you need something?” you ask carefully, eyes narrowing, plush bottom lip jutting out as you attempt to figure out his angle. “if not, leave me alone.” you swivel around and face forward again, attempting to tune back in to whatever bullshit they’re trying to sell to the crowd about the competition.

“ouch,” gojo says while rubbing his chest absently, “not the friendly type, huh.” you roll your eyes at that, let out a frustrated breath and keep your face forward.

“something like that,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but he hears you loud and clear.

“don’t worry, that’ll change soon.” he sounds so fucking sure of himself and it pisses you off. you ball your hands into fists, nails pricking your skin; he notices the tension in your shoulders, in the stiff way you keep your head and neck straight, and snorts quietly. he places a hand on your shoulder and you practically leap out of your skin, shimmying out of his grasp, eyes widening — your brown eyes aflame, your anger bubbling quickly. he laughs and puts his hands up, an apology dangling off his tongue, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“look, i don’t know what your fucking angle is,” you say venomously, arms crossed over your chest, “but the next time you touch me, i’ll cut your hand off.” you’re not serious, but you hope your face is bitchy enough to deter him from trying that again.

gojo simply laughs and tucks his hands back into his pockets. “noted, shorty.” for some reason, the nickname that never really bothered you before, truly grinds your gears now.

“whatever, just stay away from me.” you move forward to give yourself some space and realize that the man on the stage has disappeared and everyone is being ushered through the front doors of the building by several people in matching uniforms. you hesitate, watching the crowd move away from you and from gojo who — for whatever reason — decides to hang back alongside you.

lips twitching, he glances at you, amused by your standoffish behavior. “scared?”

you blink in surprise, but your brows slope downward as you stare him down. “of what? this?” you scoff and start to walk to the building in question. “never. i’m not afraid of anything.”

this is the first of many lies that you’ll exchange with gojo throughout the duration of the competition.

the interior of the building reminds you of a ritzy hotel — glamorous, expensive, the floors so shiny they can be used as mirrors — and you frown at the thought. you’ve lived in the surrounding area the majority of your life; you’d know if there was a hotel of this caliber here. gojo explains that the building was recently bought and renovated over the past year, which makes sense, but still doesn’t explain why the outside is so bland and empty.

again, you feel an uneasiness crawl into your stomach; something doesn’t feel right. when you look over your shoulder, you see two more uniformed employees stationed at the double doors — almost as if they’re blocking you all in — and others patrolling the area. you try to look around inconspicuously, but eventually follow the others to the main ballroom. it’s more than spacious enough, chairs and tables strategically placed around the room. you take a seat in the back corner and grab one of the complimentary bottles of water that sit on a shiny tray in the middle of the table. it’s an expensive brand that you can’t find readily in stores. you wonder how much it cost to buy so many cases, wonder how many thousands of dollars you could make if you stole them all and drove off without looking back.

the water is surprisingly cool, running down your throat smoothly; you feel refreshed and pissed that it tastes so good — meanwhile you’re stuck refilling your reusable bottles using the crappy tap water back at home. the man in the suit reappears on stage, commanding everyone’s attention as the lights dim. he, once again, welcomes the crowd to the competition.

“before we can begin, there are a few clerical things that need addressing.” his voice booms around the room, and the lights come back on as the uniformed employees make their way around the room, passing out thick packets of paper. “your contract is binding,” the host says gleefully, a sly smirk on his lips, making you narrow your eyes, once again feeling that something is very off about this whole affair. maybe you shouldn’t have come at all.

your chair makes the loudest scraping sound against the floor when you scoot away from the table and stand up. an employee blocks your way and you raise a brow at them, lips pressed together as you attempt to summon all of your patience in order to speak politely.

“please, move out of my way.”

they don’t move and the host turns his watchful gaze towards you. “ah, ah, ah,” he waves a finger in disapproval, “no one can leave until we finish the presentation, okay?” his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, everything about him is fake but something in his tone makes you hesitate before taking a seat again. “excellent” he claps his hands together and continues droning on about the contract. “please read through everything carefully before signing. it’s your standard contract, basically outlining that you cannot sue us if you get hurt while performing some of the stunts.”

murmurs break out amongst the other contestants, to which the host follows up with, “but rest assured, you will all be perfectly safe. all of our courses have been tested, this is just in case, you know? we all need a little guarantee in life, right?” he laughs and the crowd laughs with him — save for you, gojo, and a handful of others. “alright, folks, take your time and hand the contract back to any of the uniformed employees. there’s a section where you can check whether you’d like to continue competing or not.” and, before he steps off the stage, he scans the crowd, and ominously adds, “just know, that it’s in your best interest to stay and see this through ‘til the end.”

“nope,” you mumble to yourself, flip through the thick packet and chew on your thumbnail anxiously. “this shit’s suspicious as fuck.” there’s no way the others can’t see what you see, right? you’re not the only one who thinks all of this is bullshit. you flip to the back page and sigh, opening your water bottle again and taking a small gulp. you turn your head and see gojo — he’s much too tall for the chair, long legs spread as he takes up more space than necessary. he has a sleek jaw, slender nose, and relatively nice lips even if all they do is spew nonsense.

immediately you scoff at the thought, hating yourself just a little the longer you look at him. and then he does the worst thing possible; he takes off his sunglasses, places them neatly on the table, leans back against the chair and closes his eyes. impossible, absolutely impossible. his fair lashes curl delicately around his eyes, and he rubs his eyelids briefly before opening his eyes again.

it’s your fault for deciding on that moment to drink more of the water — water that you choke on — it’s also your fault that you keep looking at him. you knew, even with the sunglasses on, that he was handsome, but this? this was absurd. something much more breathtaking than a diamond, glittering more than gold or silver, he radiates a graceful beauty that pisses you off. he catches you looking at him and the corners of his lips curl upwards as he tilts his head, hair falling over his face from the movement.

“oh, hell,” you say out loud, forcefully squeezing the life out of the water bottle unintentionally, the liquid shooting out of the open top and splashing on your face. a couple people snicker around you, and gojo tries to hide his amusement but fails. irritation prickles underneath your skin, bowling over the embarrassment you feel over spilling water over your self — again, you’re at fault for staring for so long, you should’ve looked away when you had the chance.

your face heats up and you scramble around and grab some napkins to dab up the water.

gojo, meanwhile, focuses back on the contract before him, taking a deep breath before flipping through the pages with his lithe fingers. speed reading is an art that he mastered a long time ago — and contracts weren’t anything difficult, he could read them in his sleep. there are a few predatory clauses that stand out to him, glaringly obvious ones that he’s sure the host banked on the contestants being too ignorant to sort through.

he lifts his head to count the employees again — there are twenty-five currently in the room with concealed weapons, which strikes him as odd; if this is just a competitive game show, then why would they need to be armed? he files that away to investigate later, but more importantly, he’s reached the last page of the contract.

while the host didn’t exactly lie, there are two boxes there — but opting out of this competition before the allotted 30 days are up, puts you in a lottery for the next one, and so forth. basically, you can’t get out of the contract with this unknown corporation, unless you complete the minimum requirements. his theory about the competition falls into place; accepting their invitation is the first step, willingly entering the building is the second, and the third is signing the contract. no matter which option you choose, you’re doomed to compete. he bites his lip and slips his sunglasses onto his face, hating how bright the light is inside.

the contract also outlines the requirements for competing — there are 100 contestants in total, and everyone will be paired off into groups of ten; these groups cannot be changed without clearance from the host or whichever manager is running the game in question.

your brows furrow together as you try to figure out how to get out of this, not wanting — or caring, really — about competing anymore. without you knowing, gojo changes seats so he sits directly across from you.

“i take it you’ve read the contract, right?”

his voice slides down your body, thick like honey, and equally as tempting. you hate it, you hate him, and you hate that you’re actually looking up and engaging.

“obviously,” your voice is clipped, terse, you don’t want to talk to him more than you have to.

“so you know, your best bet is to partner with someone inside the group, right?”

you know what he’s getting at, but you hate that it’s him who is suggesting it.

“your point?” you don’t bother drinking from that villainous bottle of water again for fear of choking in his presence.

it’s cute that you keep pushing back against him, that you don’t want to like him — he can tell. that stubbornness might be your downfall, but he doesn’t hate it; in fact, he might just like that part of you.

“my point,” he leans forward, and you flinch, his cologne a rich, earthy mixture — sandalwood, warm cinnamon, and amber — choking you as he continues talking candidly with you, “is that we should work together. it’s obvious there’s something much more sinister at play here. it’s good to have allies.” you watch the way his mouth moves, take note of how white and straight his teeth are, and for some reason, you’re wondering if running his mouth is all he’s good at.

cheeks aflame, you cough into a closed fist and consider his proposition. “tempting,” you pretend to think it over, but in all honesty, he’s right. but you don’t like it, don’t like that you haven’t found anyone else to partner up with, and don’t like that he might be your lifeline in this competition.

“let’s start with introductions, yeah?” he places his hands flat on the table. “gojo satoru,” he says briskly, and then grins cheekily, “now you.”

you blink slowly and sigh, tugging on your curls in frustration. “fine, i’m y/n.” he already knew that, though; he knows everyone’s name in the room, actually — he’s done his due diligence, he just didn’t think he’d be stuck with a bogus contract. he’s sure they’ve also locked the doors to exit the building too.

“well, y/n,” he drawls, extending a hand for you to shake, “let’s make sure that we come out on top.” you know better than to trust a smooth talker like gojo, but you place your hand in his anyway, surprised at how cool his skin is, and shake it firmly. you hope you’re not making a mistake, hope that your body will stop making you think impossible things about the man before you, and hope that if you must participate in a bogus competition, that you’ll actually win the money.

after all, what will all this be for if you can’t manage to do a simple task like that?

[primroseyunho]

burnin' up

❀ yunho x reader, brother!seonghwa

❀ summer is heating up and your broken air conditioning unit lands you with a worried older brother and yet it’s someone else who seems to be the most concerned for you.

❀ warnings/tags: college au (not that it rlly matters though tbh), suggestive comments but nothing explicit, cursing, big brother seonghwa, fainting but it isn’t descriptive, i haven’t written anything like this for over a year so uhhhh it kinda sucks and also it's unedited bc it's almost 4am whoops

❀ a/n: it’s hot as hell in nyc and i have no air conditioning (so pls send ur thoughts and prayers to me) but i wanted to write and that’s how this happened so yeah lmao. also stfu this gif of yunho lives rent fucking free in my head why does he look like everyone's dream boyfriend please let me know what you think - i’d love to hear any feedback ( ⸝•ᴗ•⸝)♡

❀ word count: 2380

and one final shoutout to @luvanter who gave me the push i needed to post this and has also always been so lovely to me

“I am sorry, you what now?”

“Listen, it’s really not a big dea-”

“You’re telling me you got so hot in your apartment because your air conditioner broke that you passed out on the floor of your apartment for almost four hours - alone, I might add - and you really have the audacity to try to tell me that’s not a big deal?!”

So maybe telling your older brother about your morning adventure to the floor of your apartment wasn’t your brightest moment but in your defence, finals just ended and they stole your last surviving brain cell in their departure. It was as if Seonghwa’s mom radar had been pinging off the charts from the moment you stepped foot in the cafe with him taking one look at you before ordering you to sit down at an empty table while he ordered what seemed to be one of every baked good they had to offer and an iced tea for the both of you. You would’ve preferred a cold brew if you were being totally honest, but you knew better than to try to fight him once you saw the hard glare he was sending you from the counter. Taking a glance in one of the decorative antique mirrors the local joint had on the wall, you couldn’t really fault your brother for his reaction to you because, for lack of a better word, you looked like total shit. Settling into the worn armchair, you began fiddling with a loose strand on the cushion beside you as you awaited the inevitable scolding you were in for.

“Okay, okay - I get it,” you relented as Seonghwa stared you down looking bug-eyed at your previous deflection, “perhaps that wasn’t my greatest moment - but! At least I know now and I can just make sure to always keep my fans on and drink loads of water.” You offered what you hoped to be a convincing smile, but even you knew it was a weak resolution to your predicament.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening. I’ve listened to enough of your nightmare landlord stories to know this isn’t getting fixed any time soon and I refuse to leave my baby sister to boil to death in her cooker of an apartment.”

You rolled your eyes at Seonghwa’s dramatic metaphor but couldn’t find it in you to fight him. The past few weeks had slowly been chipping away at you and you were more exhausted than you were willing to let on. This episode with your broken air conditioner was only the latest in a series of mishaps you had been trying to push through without asking for help and you were dangerously close to reaching the end of your rope.

“And what exactly would you propose I do instead?”

“Just stay with me and Yunho until it’s sorted out. You can sleep on the spare mattress in his room that’s left from before San moved out.”

Seonghwa’s look of worry was tainted ever so slightly with a smirk now as you promptly choked on your drink at the sound of his suggestion.

“Are you sure I’m the one we should be worrying about? Because you sound like you’ve lost your fucking mind.” You managed to rasp out, still recovering from spitting your drink out.

“What are you talking about? It’s a perfectly reasonable idea.” He replied, the smirk now the prominent expression on his face.

“Yeah sure, except for the part where I have a humiliating crush on your roommate that may or may not have developed into actual f- words,” you whisper-shouted at him, “and you’re my brother? Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, not be encouraging me to sleep in the same room as a boy?”

“Okay firstly, did you seriously censor the word feelings out loud? What kind of internet crap is that? Is that what kids do these days?” He looked at you with the faint look of dismay that he always has when hearing slang words he didn’t understand. “And secondly, it’s not the 1950s anymore, who am I to dictate your love life? If anything, Yunho is the ideal guy for me to put you with - he’s my best friend and the literal definition of boyfriend material, not to mention the part where he likes you back, idiot.” He took a bite of his cake as he gave you a pointed look.

“That’s wishful thinking and you know it, Seonghwa, don’t put ideas in my head that will lead to heartbreak. Maybe he has a soft spot for me, but he’s like that with all his dongsaengs, I’m no different from them.” You mumble out as you turn your attention to the floor, missing the exaggerated eye roll your brother was sending you.

It wasn’t exactly difficult for you to develop feelings for Yunho. Your brother wasn’t lying when he called Yunho boyfriend material. The first thing that entered your mind when you thought of Yunho was soft smiles. He perpetually looked so gentle and even when he got more boisterous when hanging out with you and the rest of the boys, he always approached you with such care. Somehow he managed to both look like a puppy personified and a greek sculpture come to life. One second he’d be looking at you with the biggest doe eyes you’d ever seen and the next he’d be throwing around salacious smirks as if he had any right to do so, when they made your mind go places less than holy. So it was inevitable, honestly, that somewhere between him memorising your coffee order and the sight of his biceps flexing when he offered to carry your bag for you, that you would start drowning into him a little. Whatever your brother saw, however, wasn’t close to reality. You weren’t so unaware to think that Yunho was indifferent to you - you knew that with a fluttering of your eyes you could get his help with almost anything. But you were certain that’s just how he is with younger friends, he’s just as soft for Jongho as he is for you.

To prove your point, seeing Jongho himself enter the cafe you waved him over to get his help convincing your brother he’s a fool for thinking Yunho thought anything romantic about you.

“Jonghooooo, my favourite! Tell my brother that he’s stupid please.” You peered up at Jongho’s stoic face, praying for the solidarity he usually shows you with the two of you being the youngest out of your friend group.

“I mean, Seonghwa being stupid is a given but what is this about specifically?”

“He said that Yunho likes me in a romantic way which is obviously not true - he treats all of us younger than him the same.” You continued, pointedly ignoring the squawking that Seonghwa had been emitting ever since you had started talking to Jongho.

“You’re the stupid one there Y/N.” Jongho deadpanned and this time it was you squawking indignantly. “I might be able to get free food every time we go out, but you’re the only one Yunho would drop anything for - which he has done, multiple times.”

“I- you know what, you’re all dumb.” You pouted out, crossing your arms.

“That’s fine, but I hope you know I’m not giving you a choice with this - you’re coming to stay with me and Yunho.” Seonghwa informed you, officially back in protective mode.

Jongho looked down at the two of you confused before you sighed and filled him in on your fainting episode. Stifling a laugh behind his fist, his gummy smile came to view after hearing about Seonghwa’s solution.

“Well, Yunho will have no issue with it I’m sure, but you have fun explaining this to him - because let me tell you, the protectiveness he has for you Y/N isn’t a dongsaeng privilege, that’s for you only.”

❀

As nervous as you were to face Yunho and be sharing a room with him, you couldn’t deny your gratitude to your brother for giving you an alternate sleeping arrangement. The day had only seemed to get hotter and hotter and you were sure that if you had stayed in your place, you’d be sweating buckets by now. Sitting on the kitchen stools your brother had found on the street with his boyfriend Hongjoong, you tilted backwards precariously relishing in the blasting cool air of the AC.

“Oh my God, I think you’re trying to give me a heart attack at this point. For the millionth time, will you please stop swinging on these chairs before you crack your skull open.” Seonghwa sounded exasperated as he pushed you upright, but all you did was smile innocently at him as you turned your attention back to your now melting popsicle, throwing a wave to Hongjoong, who had entered with your older brother.

“Hey there little one, you feeling alright? Hwa told me about what happened.” Hongjoong glanced at you with concern as he shuffled over to give you a side hug.

“I am much better now that I am surrounded by this sweet, sweet cool air.” You giggled out.

“We’re heading out now, so I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

Seonghwa looked to you for confirmation that you heard and you just nodded your head absentmindedly, now more invested in your pinterest feed than watching your brother and his boyfriend get cuddly as they walked out to go on a date. Just as they reached the door you heard it open from the outside as they collided with Yunho returning from what you would guess had been another day spent at the dance studio.

“Hey, Seonghwa told me you’re staying with us for a while, what happened? Are you okay?” Yunho’s voice floated down to you as you felt his presence towering over beside you.

Looking up at him, though, proved to be a fatal mistake as you came face to face with his shirtless body and hair dripping with sweat in a way that somehow looked good which quite frankly should be a crime - who the hell even looks good with greasy hair? Your brain didn’t seem to catch up to any part of your body it seemed, as your frozen treat slipped out of your hand and for the second time that day you began to feel fuzzy in your head (though, a different kind of heat was the culprit this time). You only realised that you had spaced out entirely when you became aware of Yunho’s large hand waving in front of you, a look of unease finding its way onto his soft features.

“For real, did something happen? Did someone do something to you?” His voice held a sharp edge as he voiced the latter question, eyes hardening as he gingerly cupped your face.

Shaking your head vehemently, you swallowed audibly. “No, no nothing like that I just kind of fainted in my apartment because it’s, ya know, hot, no biggie.” You nervously tried to laugh it off but the words out loud seemed to sound worse each time you relayed the story to someone new.

“Y/N, what the hell, were you alone? Did you hit your head? How long were you unconscious for? We need to take you to a hospital.” Yunho spitfired questions at you as he started to frantically pat you down as if he was in search of some life-threatening injury that he had missed.

“Hey, hey, calm down it’s okay, I’m okay, why are you freaking out so much?” You grabbed his hands in an effort to still him.

“I, listen, that doesn’t matter, what matters is that you’re okay.” His eyes searched yours for any hint of discomfort but all he could find was confusion.

“I mean, it matters to me, Seonghwa didn’t even freak out this much.”

“Yeah, well Seonghwa isn’t in love with you like I am.” Yunho blurted out in response. With his ears tinted pink, he seemed to realise what he had just said and attempted to pull his hands out of yours. “Shit, sorry, I uh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you like that, well let’s be real I wasn’t supposed to tell you at all because you don’t feel the same way but little late for that now. Listen, I totally understand that it’s one-sided and I can give you spa-”

You promptly shoved your hand over his mouth to interrupt his blabbering, an endeared smile adorning your features along with a rush of blood to your cheeks.

“I certainly would hope Seonghwa doesn’t love me in the way you do because for starters, he’s my brother so ew and also I may be a little in love with you too.” You whisper, even though it’s just the two of you, feeling overwhelmed at the sudden change in events. “So, actually, I think I’d quite like it if you didn’t give me space and maybe, I don’t know, invaded it instead.”

Even as you said it yourself, you couldn’t help but cringe a little at how cheesy the line sounded but Yunho didn’t seem to mind as his face lit up and he stood in between your legs as you stayed perched on the stool. He moved his hands to grip your waist as he hauled you up onto the countertop instead, putting your face level with his own.

“You know, Seonghwa suggested that I, uh, that I sleep in your room on San’s old bed, but I don’t know maybe I should be kept under closer supervision, after all I did faint today.” Your voice somehow came out even quieter than before, but it didn’t waver as you left your proposition hanging in the air left between your faces.

“Hmm, I think you might be right about that, I mean it would only be right for me to share my space with you. I need to be able to check up on you and make sure that the heat hasn’t gotten to you again. We ought to be responsible, I think.” He feigned innocence but his eyes were trained on your lips as he spoke.

You brushed your lips against his, barely a ghost of a touch, as you smirked.

“Let’s go be responsible in your bed then.”

[harrywritingsbyme]

it’s sooo hot where i live right now and it’s also really hot in my house, so could you maybe do something where the reader faints from the heat? like heatstroke or something??

Too Hot

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I Combined the two! I HAD to make this a Sugar daddy/boyfriend!Harry fic. It’s fluffy with a tinge of angst bc why not. The ending is ‘eh’...so don't judge me. Enjoy🙃

Harry loved to do any and everything for you. He’d buy you the entire world if he could. He just loved doing things for you. He knows how hard you work, plus you never ask him for anything besides his love and support. So spoiling you would always be a priority for him. He absolutely adored seeing your face light up when he bought you something that you’d been eyeing or something that he just knew you’d like. There was no sight in this world that he loved more than seeing you, the woman he loves happy. He planned on doing everything he could to keep that smile on your face. And Harry was able to do just about everything to successfully do that. That is, except for one thing. 

Despite all of the presents he’s bought you and the love and affection he showered you with, he still couldn’t get you to move in with him. 

You loved Harry more than you could ever explain to anyone. You were constantly thanking your lucky stars for not only having such an amazing boyfriend, but also for just having an amazing person like him in your life at all. Even though you didn’t care about all the presents, you weren’t going to deny the fact that you did enjoy them. You absolutely loved the way Harry spoiled you and made you feel like a princess. Who wouldn’t love that?! Despite this being the case, you still couldn’t manage to allow yourself to take him up on his offer to move in with him. You loved the way he spoiled you with love and presents, but moving in was an entirely different ballgame for you. You felt like you should be taking care of yourself and anything Harry gave you should just be extra. For some reason, when you thought about living with him, you felt like you were incapable or inadequate when it came to taking care of yourself. With this being said, every time Harry’d ask or bring it up to you, you’d sweetly say “one day”. 

You knew that without a doubt you and Harry would live together in the future. What you didn’t know was that one day, would actually be today. 

It was the hottest day of the year so far where you lived and as if it was right on time, the air conditioner in your apartment broke the night before. This meant that your place was going to become an oven and you had no choice but to live in it. You were taking all of the necessary measures to stay cool. You were wearing minimal and cool clothes, you kept your cold water near you at all times, the blinds and curtains were closed to keep the sun out, and the fan was on the highest setting. Even though you were doing all these things, it didn’t stop your body from shutting down. You were able to get through the morning but once noon hit, your apartment only got hotter and more uncomfortable. The heat was just too much for you and before you knew it, you were out for the count.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone and passed out in your apartment for long. Yesterday Harry had promised you that he’d come over and spend the day with you after he got out of the meetings he had scheduled for today. After walking down the long hallway, which was just another reason why Harry wanted you to move in with Him, he finally makes it to your apartment. Normally after one or two knocks you’d be opening the door and greeting Harry with a kiss. After a few more knocks and still no response, Harry fishes into his pocket for his keys and uses the key you’d given him and he lets himself in. As soon as he opens the door, he’s enveloped in the overwhelming heat from your apartment. When he steps inside, he only gets hotter. But the heat was the last thing he was worrying about when he saw you slumped over on the couch with the fan directly on you. When he sees you like this, his mind goes straight to the worst case scenario. 

Harry knew that you and heat didn’t mix well at all. There were countless times where he needed to keep a close eye on you whenever you two were out and about when it was beyond hot outside. You’d only fainted once in the past, and he was right there to take care of you. Now, Harry didn’t know how long you’d been like this and he was absolutely terrified. 

Harry immediately drops the paper bag that held the lunch he brought for you both and rushes right over to you. He brings two fingers up to your neck to check your pulse and in that moment, Harry breathed for the first time since he stepped inside. The absolute worse case scenario that was running around in his head finally stops when he feels a pulse. The only thing he had to do next was get you up and awake. For the next 20 minuets, Harry runs around your apartment to get you situated so that when you come back to you’re nice and comfortable. He makes sure that the damp washcloth he has draped across your forehead is cool at all times, and that the makeshift icepacks he made are in all the right places. Once you’re all taken care of in bed, Harry leaves out of your room to take care of the food he brought you earlier.

When you finally begin to come back to, you immediately notice a change in your surroundings and your mind goes straight to Harry. You could hear him moving around somewhere in your apartment, so you decide to get up and check on him. But that plan is immediately scrapped, when you feel a massive headache crash over you as you move to sit up.

“Harry” You call out to him, even though your mouth was beyond dry and your throat was a bit scratchy. After a few more calls out to him, you finally hear his footsteps coming in the direction of your bedroom. 

“Hey baby.” Harry coos softly, coming into the bedroom with a tray of essentials in hand. He comes around to your side of the bed and he places the tray on your bedside table before sitting on the edge next to your legs. “How y’feeling?” 

“I have a crazy headache.” You grumble to him. “What happened?” You ask him, trying to figure out why you were waking up with a massive headache, and why Harry was taking on the role of nurse. 

“The heat was too much for you and you passed out on the couch.” Harry explains, reaching over to grab a pain reliever for your headache. 

“How long was I out?” You sigh, taking the pill from Harry. Before answering, Harry helps you sit up so that you can take the pill with water. 

“When I got here, you were passed out on the couch.” Harry explains further, holding you and the glass of water up. 

“The AC went out last night.” You tell him, laying back against the pillows when when you’re done with the water. 

“I don’t want to tell you that I told you so, especially now” Harry begins, placing the glass of water back onto the tray. “But…this wouldn’t have happened if you just moved in with me.” Harry says matter of factly.

“Harry” you sigh, digging your head back into the pillow. 

“I know this isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but I just need to know. If you don’t want to that’s fine, but I just need an answer.” At first you were frustrated with the idea of having this conversation. But seeing the look of worry, mixed with dejection was making you feel even worse than you were already feeling. To see Harry worried about you and your health, to now showing a feeling of being turned down was the worse sight in the world.

“Babe” you sigh, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to move in with you, it’s just that-“ before you even continue, you have to pause for a second. Even though you weren’t in the right frame of mind to talk about things right now, you did owe it to Harry to at least give him an answer.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, just tell me how you feel.” He reminds you, squeezing your hand in his. 

“It’s just that you already do so much for me as it is, and moving in with you makes me feel like I can’t take care of myself. It’s like I work hard and I still need someones help.” You explain lowly to him. 

“Babe, the little bit that I do for you is nowhere near what you deserve. You work extremely hard and I completely understand why you feel like you should be taking care of yourself. But, at the end of the day, I love you, I want to make you happy, and I just want to spend every moment I possibly can with you. Especially after today.” By the end, Harry was on the verge of tears. Seeing you so fragile and not being able to do anything about it was really getting to him. He also hated not being able to take care of you the way he wanted to, and the way you deserved. 

“I know you’re gonna cry, and if you do then I’m gonna lose it.” You pout up at him. After hearing his side, you realized that yes your feelings may have been valid, but moving in together would make Harry happy, and that’s the only thing that mattered to you. And it’s not like you were moving in with a complete stranger. You were moving in with Harry, the absolute love of your life.

“You really scared me today baby.” Harry sighs in disbelief. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” 

“S’not your fault that you have a shitty air conditioning unit.” Harry jokes. 

“And I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I just moved in with you already.” You repeat his words as you sit up against your headboard. In this short amount of time, you managed to make your mind up that you were indeed going to take Harry up on his offer and move in with him. Now you just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit and mess with him.  

“What’s it going to take for you to move in with me?” He asks you. His time was filled with amusement and frustration at the fight you were putting up against this. You’d given him a hard time before, but never like this. 

“You buying me that pretty necklace I showed you.” You bargain. You figured you might as well try to get something else out of the deal. 

To Harry though, this was a yes to his proposal. You could have said that you wanted an island and he would have emptied his bank accounts to do it. And with Harry, that was far from an over exaggeration. 

“De-“ before he can even agree, you quickly interject to make sure he knows exactly what you want.

“The diamond one.” You clarify. When Harry hears you say this, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even though you didn’t ask for much, you surely knew what you wanted.

“I’ll buy you the entire store if it means that my baby’ll be living with me.” Harry says excitedly. He stands up and straddles your body so that he’s on top of you and he begins to shower you with little kisses. After a few more minuets of kisses and laughs between you and Harry, the both of you were out of breath. 

“I love you.” You whisper up to him with a soft smile, and reaching up to push back the curls that had fallen in his face. 

“I love you more baby.” Harry sighs back Happily, bringing his head down to press another kiss to your lips. “On an unrelated note, am I your sugar daddy?” 

“Way to ruin the mood sir.” You laugh at the random question.

“No I’m being serious.” Harry chuckles, trying to start up the conversation again. “I mean, you already call me daddy in the bedroom. And I buy you pretty things.” Harry rations. 

“When you get me that pretty necklace, are you gonna make me suck you off to say thank you?” You tease. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna force you, nor oppose it the way some people like to oppose things.” He says pointedly with a smirk. “But it would be nice though.”

“I like being your girlfriend though.” You pout up at him.

“You’ll still be my girlfriend obviously. I think I just want the title. Y’know?”

“No, I really don’t know. But I do love you, and if it makes you happy, I guess you can be my sugar daddy. Just know that you’re a weirdo.” You agree, even though you had no idea where this was coming from. 

“You said yes to two things in one day?! Is this because you’re getting a pretty necklace outta me?” Harry asks “suspiciously”.

“Maybe” You reply with a smirk. 

“Well I think that this daddy deserves some sugar.” Harry replies smoothly. When he says this, all you could do was laugh hysterically.

“Okay, two things. One, never say that again because that was really weird. Two, I’d me more than willing to give you some “sugar”, but we need to go to your place and do it because it’s hot in here, you being on top of me only makes me hotter, and I’m not trying to pass out again.”

“Fine” Harry concedes, making sure to give you a serious pout before falling onto the bed next to you. 

Even though passing out wasn’t the most ideal way to have a breakthrough, it did end up working out in you and Harry’s benefit. 

Masterlist

[impala-dreamer]

A New Kind Of Magic

An SPN/Magicians Crossover Fic

~Dean and Sam have some company in the Bunker but Margo and Eliot are not there for a friendly visit. Somehow, their quest keys got screwed up and sent them to another universe. Chances of getting them home seem rather nonexistent until Eliot suggests they combine their magic...and a few other things...~

Sam Winchester x Margo Hanson x Eliot Waugh, Dean Winchester, Roger Rabbit, Unnamed Bunny

3,445 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Spells and Sex and Magic and Bunnies. All the good stuff.

AN: This is my very first crossover fic, combining some of my favorite people. I haven't ever written for Margo or Eliot before, so this was a lot of fun. This challenge piece is for, and the art and title are by @idabbleincrazy. I really hope you all enjoy! EDIT: TUMBLR TOOK DOWN THE ORIGINAL POST BC THE ART WAS TOO SEXY, THE WORDS WERE TOO SEXY, THEY WERE JEALOUS OF THIS POST. HOPE YOU LIKE IT ;)

My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon 

It wasn’t as if no one had ever crossed into their universe before, or them into another as it were, but no matter how many times it happened, Dean was never going to be used to it. Just like the time their grandfather had walked through time and into their closet door, the last week had been super weird. It wasn’t right. But it kept on happening.

Margo was hot, that’s all Dean knew. She was like this tiny firecracker of sass and sex that would blow his hand apart if he tried to touch her. And try he did. For the first two days, he used his best pick up lines on her, flashed his most flirtatious smiles, but she was having none of it. Margo barely even looked at Dean except to fire back a snide comment, and her rejection just egged him on.

Eliot was...an interesting fellow. Dean wasn’t quite sure what to make of him but he certainly did his fair share of blushing around him. Twice, Eliot commented on the pert roundness of Dean’s ass and twice, Dean had nearly giggled himself into a frenzy. His cheeks would never stop burning around the strange, curly haired man, but give in, he would not.

While Dean was busy trying to keep his pants on around the strangers, Sam was busy trying to help them get home. He spent most of his time in the Library, pouring over books and his laptop, reading until his eyes were so out of focus that they welled with exhausted tears. He was getting nowhere. An entire universe of knowledge at his fingertips, and there was not a speck of information about Fillory or quests or Magic Keys opening random doors into other universes. He was at a loss.

Closing his computer for a moment, Sam leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed at his eyes. A kaleidoscope of static and color swirled on his eyelids and he sighed, feeling that familiar tug of sleep.

Boots rushing down the short steps knocked Sleep’s hand away.

“Still nothing?”

Sam opened his eyes to find his brother standing over him, arms crossing over his jacket.

“Not a thing. You?” Sam knew the answer, but he wanted to poke Dean with a tiny bit of guilt for not helping.

“Nope.” Dean pursed his lips. “Well… There’s a case up near Spokane,” he said, tilting his head. “Four coeds found with their hearts ripped out. Gonna go check it out with Cas unless…”

Sam lifted his eyebrows, waiting for the rest of Dean’s sentence. “Unless what?”

“Unless you wanna come with? Get out of the Bunker for a bit? Get some fresh air?”

“Dean, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” He’d long ago stopped wondering how far he could roll his eyes. He knew.

“Yeah and you got it all under control.” After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, Dean leaned down a bit, resting a hand on the back of the chair next to Sam. “Listen, I gotta get outta here. That chick is super hot and ignores me every other word and the tall guy is…” Dean sucked his teeth as he searched for the right word, but couldn’t find anything good. “I just need like five minutes alone. OK?”

Sam breathed out a laugh and nodded. “OK.”

“OK!” Dean smiled and stood up, spinning on his heel towards the door. “Check ya later, Sammy. Be good. Don’t burn the house down!”

“Leaving so soon?” Margo appeared at the top of the stairs, long hair down and shining, one of Mary’s old shirts hanging off her shoulders.

Dean startled but caught himself. “Just making a milk run, milady, nothing to worry about.” He gave her his best smile, but she lifted a brow and looked towards Sam.

“Thanks for the conditioner,” she said with a smile. “This universe is killing my hair. Never thought I could miss magic so much.” She pushed passed Dean and sank into the chair next to Sam.

“OK then,” Dean mumbled to himself. “Have fun playing beauty parlor!” He waved as he hopped up the steps and disappeared around the corner.

Sam huffed and pushed his tongue between his teeth. “Sorry about my brother. He’s…”

Margo shrugged him off and adjusted herself in the chair, half lounging, one leg slung over the arm facing Sam. “He’s harmless.”

Sam laughed. “He’s really not…”

“I could take him.”

Deep red lips pulled into a smirk and Sam’s heart raced.

“I bet you could.”

Steps scuffled on the top stair as Eliot swaggered into the archway. “What are we betting?” He lifted a flask to his lips and giggled around the cap. “Strip poker, I hope.” Margo gave him a stern look and he floated into the room, taking the seat across from Sam. “Sorry.”

Sam managed to clear the lump from his throat with a gentle laugh. “Uh, no,” he answered awkwardly. “We were just talking about my brother’s-”

“Tight little ass,” Margo grinned, winking at Sam who’s cheeks turned fifthteen shades of pink.

Eliot laughed and kicked back in his seat, crossing his long legs at the ankles beneath the table. “I could bounce a quarter off that ass,” he said in playful agreement. “Or bite it.”

Sam’s expression twisted into something reminiscent of a firefighter smelling a burnt corpse for the first time, but was soon soothed by Margo’s sexy laugh.

“El, that’s too much,” she teased, swatting her hand through the air at him. “You’re embarrassing my boy here.”

Sam took a long moment to collect himself, to pull his eyes away from her perfect lips. When he was ready, he sat up and fiddled with his laptop, trying to give his hands something to do.

“So any luck getting us home?” Eliot asked, voice turning from sex to business.

“Sadly, no.” Sam sighed heavily and shook his head. “I just can’t find anything that would work. Since your magic doesn’t work here, I can figure that our magic wouldn’t work to get you there. I can’t see that a door like this has ever been opened between our worlds before.”

“But you told us about that rift thing,” Margo reminded him, sitting up and unhooking her leg from the chair. “Maybe we could open one of those?”

A bit of hair fell into Sam’s eyes as he shook his head again. “No. Everything points to your universe being on a totally different line that ours.”

Eliot laughed in confusion. “What?”

“If you think of the universes as we’re speaking of them,” Sam explained, gesticulating with big hands as he broke it all down for Eliot and Margo. “You could imagine an infinite number of Earths on a string, all lined up, all the same yet not. Now this string would keep our universe together and theoretically, you could use the string to jump from one world to the other.”

“Right…” Margo’s dark eyes blinked wildly as Sam rambled on.

“From what I’ve read,” he went on, “it looks as if your Earth is on a seperate string.”

“So no jumping back and forth?” she asked, painted lips in a deep frown.

“No jumping,” Sam echoed in agreement.

“It’s like the bunnies,” Eliot mused, staring at Sam but looking passed him at a memory.

“Bunnies?” Sam’s voice cracked as he questioned the odd comment.

“In Fillory, we have bunnies that can talk and we can send them to Earth with messages, and visa versa.” Margo tried to explain it better than that, but it was pretty simple, actually. It was what it was.

“Ah.” Sam smiled but his curiosity was far from sated. “So tell me again about the keys?”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “We are on a quest and the keys are all...magical as fuck.”

Sam laughed. “Right. And...opening doors to different places is normal for you guys?”

“It is, but we’ve never been stuck like this...powerless and trapped underground.” Margo exhaled sadly.

“You know we’re not...holding you here,” Sam offered kindly.

She turned to face him and smiled. “Honey, even if I wasn’t hiding out in tunnels under a mountain of dirt- this is Kansas. There’s nothing to do. I might as well be trapped.”

“Oh, come on, Bambi,” Eliot cooed, sneaking in, “we can always find something to do.” His eyes turned to Sam. “Or someone.”

Sam swallowed so hard it nearly echoed. He couldn’t deny the heat in his cheeks when Eliot stared at him, or the tightness of his jeans when Margo’s hand brushed his leg accidentally, but he really didn’t have time for all that. There was research to do.

“We really should get back to work,” Sam insisted, clearing his throat for the upteenth time. His shoulders were so tight he thought they’d snap, but he had to keep his head screwed on right.

“Yeah,” Margo snipped, sarcastically waving a finger at Eliot. “No time for sex. We need to focus.”

Eliot laughed so hard the table shook, and he pulled the flask back out of his vest. He tipped his head back, going for the last swallow, and suddenly had an idea. Margo could see the lightbulb illuminate behind his eyes and she leaned close.

“Oh…”

“What is it?”

Sam hummed in question.

Eliot grinned. “Sex.”

“You need to calm your tits, sir,” Margo sassed, rolling her eyes and sitting back. “I want to go home.”

“No,” he laughed, leaning over the table. “Sex Magic.”

Margo’s face lit up and she gave a half smile. “Oh…”

Confused, Sam looked back and forth between them. “Sex Magic?”

“It’s a rarely used ritual that can produce a large amount of magical energy,” Margo explained. “But our magic isn’t working here so what the fuck, El?” She shot him a glare but Eliot was undeterred.

“No, listen. What if we combine our magic with some of Sam’s magic and see what happens.”

“Why does it have to be the fucking type?”

Eliot grinned. “Because if it doesn’t work, we’re not out anything but a couple condoms.”

Margo seemed satisfied with that and looked to Sam whose jaw was nearly on the ground.

“You in, big boy?” she asked, dropping her hand to his knee.

“I, uh… what...” Sam struggled with the new plan, but suddenly remembered something he’d read a few days ago that seemed pointless until now. “Actually… I think that could work…”

Deep in Rowena’s journals was a spell for conjuring up a large amount of magical power. Sam had skimmed it but ultimately given up the idea; he hadn’t felt ready to attempt something so powerful, but with two actual magicians by his side, Sam decided it was worth a shot.

The trio stood in Sam’s bedroom, lights dimmed, candles lit around the perimeter. It was romantic and warm, but Sam’s hands were shaking.

Eliot noticed the tremor and handed Sam his flask. “Take the edge off,” he whispered gently.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled quickly and took a sip. He winced at the strong but smooth Scotch as it ran down his throat. “My brother’s gonna bite your head off if he finds out you’re in his good stash.”

“I can take him,” Eliot winked.

Sam stared at him in awe. “You two are so…”

“Sexy?” Eliot offered.

“Confident,” Sam finished.

“Well, that too.”

“Can we get this going?” Margo interrupted, ripping the shirt off her head. Her hair fell down in perfect waves behind her back and she offered the men a nice view of her breasts. “I’m getting bored.”

The spell was impossibly simple. A bit of blood from each of them was mixed with elm ash and cloves, then rubbed over each breastbone, right above their hearts. A few words of tongue-twisting Latin and a cache of energy should begin to charge over the bowl of remaining potion.

Sam finished enchanting the mixture and held the brass bowl out to Eliot. "I guess...we can get started."

Eliot smirked and dipped two long fingers into the bowl, his dark eyes locked on Sam's. "I can't wait."

Margo shivered as Eliot smeared the tincture over her heart, gently rubbing the brownish mess into her smooth skin. She looked up at him and smiled slyly. "Love it when you massage me."

"Oh, hush," he grinned, pulling his hand away. "Your turn." He nodded towards Sam and Margo slipped away.

"Gonna need you to strip."

Sam’s stomach flipped. “Uh...what?” His tongue felt dead in his mouth as he blushed every ounce of body heat through his cheeks.

Margo gave him a smug smile and moved closer, her naked breasts bouncing slightly as she took each step. “Strip.” She popped the P and Sam’s heart skipped too many beats. “Gonna need to take those clothes off if we’re gonna do this.” Her dark eyes fell down the length of Sam’s body and he shivered.

“Yeah.” His laugh was awkward and adorable.

“Awe, he’s shy,” Eliot cooed, dropping his pants by the bed, already half hard and ready to go.  

Sam chewed his lip as he pulled the old green flannel from his shoulders, held his breath as he tugged his undershirt up over his head, swallowed down a cannonball when his jeans hit the floor. He held his eyes shut, half expecting a teasing word from Eliot, but the room was oddly silent.

“Well, hot damn.”

Margo’s voice pulled Sam’s eyes open and he found both visitors staring at him with lust filled eyes. Their stares knocked away his nerves and Sam stepped forward, looking down at Margo and licking his lips.

“Go ahead,” he whispered; a wolfish grin growing upon his pink lips.

Her eyes blurred as a shudder traveled down her spine, but she snapped back quickly. “Let’s do this.”

Her touch was like fire on his chest, the potion even more so. Her fingers were so thin, so delicate, and Sam’s cock twitched as he imagined her tiny hands trying to hold on as he wrecked her against the wall.

By the time she was done, Sam was stiff and his head was swimming. Eliot came towards him, ready to be anointed. His chest was firm and warm beneath Sam’s fingers, and he lingered there, caught in the moment, marveling at how not strange it was anymore. There was something in the air, something in the spell that took away all the hesitation, flooding his brain with arousal and confidence.

Eliot smiled as Sam’s hand finally fell away. “You’re real pretty, Sam. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Hazel eyes glowed bright and his hand returned to Eliot’s chest, slowly rising to curl around the nape of his neck. “So are you.”

The same heat in the tincture was in their kiss; lips and breath on fire as Eliot kissed Sam back, pulling him closer with a firm hand on his ass. Hips pushing against hips, fingers tangling in hair. Sam’s ears were ringing by the time Eliot let him go and he whimpered under his breath, wanting the heat against his lips again.

Margo warmed him up, slipping easily between them, soft and hot, fitting herself in place. She reached up for Sam and pulled him down by some mysterious string tied around his throat, the same string that now lead him to the bed, pushed him down underneath her, held him captive as her lips traveled his body.

Eliot lit the candle by the bed and smoke filled the room. It was a mist, a thick fog of sweet perfume that rolled around and inside of them, stoked by tongues and fingers, fueled by the rolling of hips.

Sam breathed deeply as Margo lowered herself onto him, straddling his cock backwards as her lips fell to Eliot’s waiting cock. Sam cupped her ass as Eliot gathered up her hair, and they held her in place, each using the push and pull to keep her happy between them.

The louder she moaned, the brighter the mist glowed, swirling around them like something from a dream; a dorm room smoke out lit by neon, a fairy garden at midnight. Sam wasn’t sure anymore where their bodies began and ended, and after a while, he stopped trying to make sense of the moment. They lay in a heap on the bed; legs twisted together, lips never far from supple flesh, tongues always busy, hands kneading and probing.

As her pleasure crested, Margo let out a howl that cleared the fog, sending it straight up above their heads. It curled and spun into a rush of brightly colored wind that hovered over the key. It shot down inside the key as Sam came, growling loudly and digging his nails into Margo’s hips. The key glowed bright gold as Eliot followed, coating Sam’s thighs in hot white.

“Yo! Sam!” Dean turned the corner into the hall, limping a little on his left ankle. “Where you at?”

There was a loud rustle and then a slamming door. Sam emerged from his room, rushing towards Dean, his face bright pink, lips swollen, hair a mess. He fiddled with the buttons of his flannel, not realizing that, in his haste, he had miss matched the top set.

Dean eyed him suspiciously. “Everything OK?”

“What? Yeah.” Sam shook his head as if offended by such a question. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Green eyes fell downwards, zooming in on the crooked buttons. “You’re a mess. Look at you.”

Sam shrugged him off and pushed past him, walking purposefully towards the War Room as he rebuttoned his shirt. “It’s fine.”

Dean sniffed the air as Sam walked by and hobbled quickly behind him. “Did you fuck her?”

“What!” Sam skidded to a halt, pushing out a nervous laugh as he tried to ignore Dean’s darting eyes.

“You did, didn’t you! You fucked Margo!”

“That’s...just rude,” Sam snapped.

Dean gasped dramatically and covered his mouth. “You didn’t...did you fuck him too?”

Sam stood to full height, shocked. “You...what...I…”

Dean held his ground. “You stink like sex.”

“Shut up.”

“You did fuck them!”

“Just...stop it. OK?”

Dean shrugged but smirked as he turned away. “Fine.” Wincing, he shuffled to a chair by the glowing table and sat. “Where are they anyway? I’m due for a little rejection about now.”

Sam sat across the table and smiled. “They are gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yup. Found a spell in Rowena’s books, combined it with a little...magic from their world and…” He threw his hands up, empty, like the Bunker. “They’re home.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully and smiled. “Well. Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Silence fell for a bit but Dean’s head was buzzing. “What kind of magic was it?”

Sam picked at the cuff of his shirt. “It was...there...just...Some weird ritual of theirs.” He looked away, blushing at the thought and Dean caught every twitch of his face.

“You did fuck them!”

“Dude, enough, OK!”

“Fine.” Dean sat back in his seat and licked his lips smugly. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

There was a strange pressure in the air suddenly and a loud whooshing sound. Above the table, the air seemed to swirl into tiny hurricane, and the brothers looked up in awe as a small black hole opened up over their heads.

“What the fuck is that!” Dean yelped, tipping the chair back so far he almost fell.

Sam leaned in, squinting up into the darkness. “I don’t know!”

Beyond all comprehension and logic, from out of the mysterious black hole, dropped a fluffy gray rabbit. It fell to the table and took a step towards Sam.

“Thanks for the help,” it said.

Dean gawked. “Did that rabbit just talk to you?”

Sam nodded, just as shocked. “I believe it did.”

The air whirled again and another rabbit plopped down onto the table before the portal closed.

“And sex. Love, Eliot,” the second bunnie concluded.

Green eyes went huge and Dean’s smile was unstoppable. “You dirty boy! You did fuck them!”

Sam stammered. “It was a spell!”

Dean laughed, slapping the table gleefully with his hands. “You fucked ‘em! I knew it!”

Sam let him go on for a few minutes before clearing his throat. “You done?”

Dean giggled. “Yeah.”

The second rabbit wiggled its nose and hopped towards Dean who scooped him up gently. “Uh...what do we do with these?”

Sam shrugged and stood up. “No idea. But I already fixed one mess today. This one’s on you.”

Dean frowned but the bunny in his hands was too cute to ignore. As Sam walked away, he cuddled it close and whispered. “I’m gonna name you Roger.”

2020 Forever Tags: @67-chevy-baby @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @autumnmoon @because-imma-lady-assface @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwinchesterswitch @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @fangirlxwritesx67 @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space​ @leatherandfrackles​ @lessons-of-red​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @lonewolf471​ @maddiepants​ @mariekoukie6661​ @meganwinchester1999​ @melbelle45 @missjenniferb​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @starboycas​ @stephaniecanfield96us​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @thebookisbtr​ @the-chocolate-moose​ @thehardcoveraddict​ @thevelvetseries​ @veevm​ @winchestersister55​ @wendibird​ @winecatsandpizza​ @winterpoohbear​

[notcolleen]

Maybe I actually remade tumblr to vent about my roommate because WOW this felt good to type out

[[MORE]]

so a year ago, my roommate was my best friend. Now we aren’t speaking (literally, the most we have spoken is when she came into the coffee shop I work at without realizing I was working and I was forced to ring her up for a smoothie) and I need to write out what happened because there is nowhere else I can be fully honest about it. Our lives are still too intertwined and everyone I know, she knows (because she worked both places I still work! Because I got her the job!)

Only a few people even know the extent of the story dating back to: she told me she had feelings for me 2 years ago. I did not return those feelings at the time. I actually was very confusingly infatuated with a male coworker (the first and probably the last time that happens!!) so I let her know that and she told me how much that hurt and that she needed space bc it hurt to see us together etc etc but eventually we continue to grow closer as friends and (of course!) it developed into a pretty codependent relationship. But at the time it felt fulfilling, and looking back it definitely met the needs I had in the moment.

I never thought it would even be possible to leave my toxic home environment, so the fact that I actually moved out into an apartment with her still felt surreal and I think I attached a lot of my positive feelings about life and recovery towards her. Our relationship continued to grow more codependent as we lived together — she acknowledged that she had feelings for me but said that they had shifted, but (plot twist!!) now I was questioning at whether I had started to feel something more towards her instead. She definitely gained an ego boost from that lmao

She also started dating a guy pretty soon after moving in, and that brought up a lot of unresolved trauma stuff for me. (They are....loud. He is....awful.) I let her know that I needed space and that it would be better for us to try keeping a more formal “roommate” relationship until I could sort out how I was feeling, and that I would let her know if that changed.

Fast forward to late july, and this is where I fucked up, and I know I fucked up!! She had gone away and let me know that I could sleep in her room because she had an air conditioner and it was ungodly hot at that point. She also left her journal out on her bed. I read the journal, despite knowing how wrong that was and how much trust that broke.

So I can’t get mad at her for what was written in the privacy of her own journal, except ...in my heart I am ....because what was written was literally vehement hate towards everything I have worked to not hate about myself. 🤗

It wouldn’t bother me so much if it wasn’t for the fact that on the same days she was saying to my face how important our friendship was and how much she appreciated me voicing the need for space and boundaries, she was writing things like:

(99% sure that by EST here she means ECT, aka I let her know I had treatment for chronic depression....she told me I was brave! She pushed me multiple times for more information about it actually! She continually asked me probing questions about my mental health and eating disorder and tried to jump in as a loving savior and then:

so .... there’s that 👀.

There rest gets really petty (I mean...I acknowledge that it’s petty already! But I did apologize for what I did — I responded initially with an equally rude letter and then left for a 5 day long trip to Richmond, so I can look back and see that was entirely emotion based decision making, but the apology afterward was sincere without discrediting my emotions about the situation (and making it very, very clear that I am not interested in resuming any form of friendship because.... 👁👃👁 no thank you!)

Anyway, we texted some after that (she got to express how fucked up it was that I read the journals in the first place, said fuck you A LOT, etc) but now we only text briefly about roommate stuff and I have to put up with 6 more months of her never cleaning up after herself and slamming doors at 5 am 🥰🙆‍♀️

So now I’m looking into moving into my own apartment in May, or will need to find a roommate, and both options stress me out in different ways (I would LOVE to live along but $$ wise idk if that’s shooting myself in the foot) but the good news is that I would be able to get a cat!

Okay that felt really good, it is okay to judge me for my sins because I already have and believe me the guilt is still there despite the annoyance I feel towards this person, bye

[gyamburu]

thoughtful & warm!

Thoughtful : If you could change your name, what would you call yourself

like, i already went from my birth name to “jay”, which i love, but before that i considered “emilio” bc its SUCH A GORGEOUS NAME i love it................. but it doesnt fit me at all its sad. like, it didnt feel right. if it didnt feel oddly wrong, i would love to be called emilio or em for short sdkghfgd i gave the name to one of my ocs instead, that was the least i could do w

Warmth : What is your happy place?

it used to be my room back home but one day its air conditioner broke and.... had to abandon it. it sounds like an exaggeration but my city is like... dangerously hot and humid so a closed room in a second floor PLUS with bad wind ventilation is pretty inhabitable. like, im currently home, and i have to sleep in the living room and p much hang around the house without any privacy, it sucks. lost my happy place but im confident that once i get an apartment i’ll have the happiness of privacy again!! 

thank u for asking egg!! (sparkle emoji i cant find)

[trade-baby-blues]

Looking Up

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 1160

Warnings: Angsty, swearing

A/N: Requested by @brooke-taylor0323 for my 300 followers AU Celebration! :D In doing this I’ve figured out that meet messy AUs are my fave. Prompt was:  i’ve had a really awful day so i started kicking a car out of frustration and it turned out to be your car i’m so sorry.”  Hope you enjoy!!

The air was too thick in the office, choking you as you swallowed back tears. The once gentle hum of the air conditioner sounded like a wordless scream falling on the deaf ears of your supervisor as he sat across the desk from you, looking awkwardly at his hands.

“Fired,” you whispered again. You thought repeating the word would make it sound less foreign, but it felt just as strange on your tongue.

“Not fired,” he said, voice oozing the faux happiness you’d only experienced directed at customers, “Let go.” You were still trying to process what he said when he was ushering you back to your office, which had already been packed up. Four years of college, five years of work, and one fading dream all stuffed into two cardboard boxes propped on top of your now empty desk.

You struggled to balance both boxes under your chin as you made your way to the elevator, mind still racing with thoughts of what you were going to do now. This had been your dream job, the vision that kept you going through college when the stress from tests got too much, when you sacrificed social time to work at internship after internship. You reached forward to press the call button when you saw the sign on the elevator. Under maintenance. Your throat burned and you had to pinch your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying. You could feel your shirt clinging to you as sweat began sliding down your spine. Your arms were shaking lightly already from the strain of carrying the boxes. With a sigh, you went to the stairwell, hoping your arms would hold up until you got to your bike.

The stairwell light flickered, making the way down more ominous. Your footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you tried to commit the sound to memory. The droning of the fluorescent lights and the distant smell of toner. You didn't realize how much you'd miss. You were rounding the corner to the second floor when someone came flying out of the stairwell exit, crashing into you and almost sending you careening down the stairs. You latched onto the railing, dropping your boxes but managing to stay standing.

“Sorry,” the person said, bolting down the stairs without stopping to help you up. You watched your belongings tumble down, echoing in the hall and in your head, reminding you how hollow you felt now. A picture frame hit the floor and shattered. Your Christmas office party two years ago. The year Jim told you you were getting a promotion. You collected your things as you went down the stairs, stopping at the picture with a heavy heart, walking past to leave it for the spiders. Clearly, you didn't matter to the company so they shouldn't matter to you.

The brightness of the sun lit up the shadows of your face, and you walked out of the office head held high, a plan forming (if you could call a date with a bottle of vodka a plan). You still had an apartment. You still had your bike. You were going to get through this. You’d take a couple days off and really enjoy your newfound freedom before hitting a few local places that were always hiring. You opened your eyes, ready to take on the rest of the day, and your heart shattered.

Your bike was stuck under a car, tire rim twisted into a menacing metal smile. The pink wicker basket that normally sat on your handlebars was cracked in half across the sidewalk. The boxes slipped from you grasp again, contents hitting the ground and scattering. A few papers got caught up in the wind and blew away along with any shred of self-preservation you had left. You pushed your sleeves up slowly, methodically, as your mind went into autopilot. As you walked towards the offending car, blissfully unaware of what was to come, a smile spread across your face. You were definitely losing it.

Your boot bounced straight off the tire the first time you kicked. You swung your foot again, hitting the rim this time. Pain shot through your foot but you swung again mercilessly. The pain kept you grounded, helped you fight against the haziness that tore at your vision and the tightness building in your chest. You kicked again, hitting the bumper. Tears began to fall freely now as you kicked the bumper again, this time leave a small dent. You lifted your foot to swing again when a strong hand grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the car.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? That’s my fucking car.”

“And that’s my fucking bike you ran over,” you screamed. People on the streets were turning to look, but you couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed. Why not let them get first row seats to watch your life fall apart? You balled up your fist and hit him weakly against the chest. “It was all I had.” Another swat, another sob. “And you b-broke it.” You staggered back against his car, letting the despair wash over you.

The man stood dumbfounded, not quite sure if you would hit him again or keep crying. Although, he probably deserved another smack for making such an angel hurt so deeply. God, he can’t remember the last time he saw a face as perfect as yours, hair tumbling down and framing it. He wasn’t exactly a religious man, but damn if Leonard McCoy wasn’t having a spiritual moment right now. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said gently, reaching to put a hand on your arm. When you didn’t pull away, he started to rub small circles on your skin. “I’ll buy you a new bike, I promise.”

“No,” you said, choking back another sob, “No, I’m sorry it’s just been a really shitty day. I got fired and then the elevator was broken and I fell down the stairs and then I found out my bike was broken and now I’m spilling my guts to a really hot stranger on the street and I just can’t stop talking I just can’t sto-”

Luckily, another sob cut you off before you could keep rambling on. The man in front of you only laughed, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his broad chest pressed against yours, feeling protected. “How about you let me buy you lunch, sugar? I know a restaurant close by with a pecan pie so good I think my mama must’ve sold them the recipe.”

“I’m allergic to pecans,” you muttered into his chest. He chuckled again as he reached past you to open the passenger door. You shamelessly ran your hands across his chest and down to his waist, feeling every dip and curve of his muscles through his white dress shirt. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you muttered as you slipped into the car.

Tags: 

@outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @trekken81 @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @atari-writes @pabegay1 @bolontiku

@daybreak96 @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch

This is the Bones I pictured for this bc blue suit beardy Karl Urban is my weakness: