#but then I see something and it blows my mind
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burningembers91 · 2 days ago
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Help Wanted - Seong Gi-Hun x Fem!Reader
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Follow up piece to:
Back Alley Bar
Synopsis: When Seong Gi-Hun sees you struggling, he decides to step in
A/N: this storyline is becoming more angsty than I originally thought it would! A lot of my MC’s are happy go lucky people though, so it’s fun creating someone’s who’s just as flawed as the other characters.
You were late, so incredibly late. Between your full time day job, shifts at the bar, and your online university classes, you were burning the candle at both ends. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had more than 4 hours of sleep, and it was starting to catch up to you. Your shirt was inside out, a problem you’d only realised as you left the subway. You’d have to quickly change it in the bathroom before class, and hope your students and fellow teachers didn’t notice your absence.
You glanced down at your watch: only 6 minutes to make a 10 minute journey. You’d have to run to the school, which meant you’d turn up to work both sweaty and dressed incorrectly. Groaning internally, you picked up the pace, setting out into a steady jog. You hated running, it made you feel like your lungs were about to burst out of your chest. You were so busy mentally timing your journey that you didn’t notice the figure in front of you. Not until you collided full force with them, knocking you and the contents of your bag onto the pavement.
“Oh, fuck!” You hissed, your hands going straight to your throbbing nose. You looked up, ready to curse whoever it was that hadn’t moved out of your way, only to see Seong Gi-Hun standing over you.
“Are you alright?” He asked, bending forward to help you up. You nodded, checking there was no blood before scrambling to pick up your papers that were blowing lazily down the road.
Gi-Hun had always thought you’d been beautiful, but even he had to admit that you looked exhausted beyond measure. There was deep bags under your eyes, toothpaste in the corner of your mouth, and was your shirt inside out?
“Your shirt-“ he began, before you cut him off, your tone harsh.
“Yes,” you snapped, “my shirt is inside out.”You took the remaining papers from his hands, sighing as you rubbed your tired eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just really tired and really, really late for work.”
Gi-Hun held his hands up, stepping aside to let you rush past him. “I hope you have a good day!” He called after you, smiling as he watched your incorrectly worn shirt billow in the warm spring breeze.
He hadn’t been to the bar for a few weeks. Your words had really gotten to him, had made him stop and think. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life wallowing in his own pity? Drinking himself to death wouldn’t change what he’d done, nothing would take back the mistakes he’d made, nothing would bring back the people he’d lost. But if he didn’t do something soon, he’d waste away into nothingness. The morning after the conversation in your car, Gi-Hun threw away the bottle of whiskey he usually kept by his bed. He went out and looked for places advertising employment, willing to take on whatever work he could get. He missed seeing you though, missed listening to you talk when you thought he wasn’t listening. He’d never seen you in the daylight before, and you looked even more beautiful than you did in the dimly lit bar. But you looked so tired, so stressed. You’d done so much for Gi-Hun over the last few months; now it was time for him to return the favour.
That night, Gi-Hun returned to the bar. He didn’t drink, though he desperately wanted to. He just sat with you, keeping you company as you had done for him so many times. You looked exhausted, your eyes red rimmed and puffy. You didn’t talk much that night, too tired to form words. But Gi-Hun didn’t mind; he knew better than anyone that sometimes all you needed was a persons presence to stop you from going completely insane.
“Let me drive you home,” he said to you at the end of your shift.
“I’m fine, honestly,” you mumbled, fumbling with the keys as you locked the bar down for the night.
“Please,” he insisted. “It’s not safe for you to drive.”
You looked at him, closing your eyes as they burned with tiredness, before sighing.
“Fine.” Tossing him the keys, you slumped into the passenger side, secretly grateful for the help. If you’d had to drive home, you weren’t sure you’d have made it back in one piece.
You were both silent as the car wound through the city streets, lost in your own thoughts. Gi-Hun helped you upstairs with your bags, ladened down with student essays you needed to mark, and your own uni work that you hadn’t had time to complete. He wasn’t sure if he should stay for a while, to make sure you got in ok.
“Have you eaten?” He asked, desperate to prolong his time with you, even for a brief moment. Your stomach growled loudly in response, and you clutched at it.
“I guess I forgot to,” you mumbled, throwing yourself down on the couch which was littered with yet more paperwork.
“You need to eat,” he said, “let me make you something.” He dug around in the cupboards, finding a couple of packs of instant ramen to make while you got changed out of your work clothes. You returned a few moments later, makeup free and wearing a tiny pair of pyjama shorts. They accentuated the curves of your thighs and hips so perfectly, and Gi-Hun found himself unable to tear his eyes away. You looked so beautiful, but so fragile and broken.
Handing you the bowl of food, he turned to go. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, didn’t want to encroach on you when you clearly needed rest.
“Please don’t go.” Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear you. You looked so small sitting on your sofa, the bowl of steaming ramen in your hands. “Please, can you just stay a while?”
You were so lonely at the minute, so utterly drained and exhausted. You just needed some company, needed someone to sit with you. And so Gi-Hun stayed. He sat with you while you ate, neither of you talking, but both of you having so much you wanted to say.
“Why do you do all this?” He asked eventually, looking at the mountains of paperwork all over your tiny living room.
“I made some bad choices when I was younger,” you sighed. “I met someone when I was really young. I thought he was a nice guy; he wasn’t. I took a job as a teacher because it was easy and brought money in. But as soon as I put money in the account, he would spend it.”
Your ex sounded like Gi-Hun, and it filled him with shame.
“Did he gamble?” He asked, wondering just alike the two of them were.
You shook your head. “Drugs and prostitutes, mostly,” you laughed bitterly. “It took me years to get the courage up to leave. And when I finally did I realised I’d wasted my life being with a man I hated, in a job I can’t stand. I thought by going back to university I could make myself better somehow. But I’m just really tired and I have nothing to show for it.”
A single, fat tear dropped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. You talked long into the night, fighting sleep so you could spend more time with the man who had shown you such kindness. When your eyes could no longer stay open, you crashed hard on the sofa, your head slumped on Gi-Hun’s shoulder.
He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare wake you from the sleep you desperately needed. So he stayed there all night, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. His hand tentatively stroked your back, soothing the troubled mumbles you uttered every now and again.
You’d been there for him when he needed someone, and now he’d be there for you. Life was tough for both of you, but you could help each other. Maybe together you could come out the other side. Maybe together you’d be ok.
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ddongtsan · 2 days ago
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You saying your hands are cold - BOYNEXTDOOR
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Ot6 x gender neutral.reader
Note: All of this is just my opinion, so if you don't like/agree with it, that's okay, everyone has their own way of thinking.
Warning: Relationship established (all members), fluff.
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Sungho
Sungho looks at your hand with a gentle smile, but quickly notices how cold it is.
"Wow, really cold, huh?" He takes your hand gently, pulling it closer to himself.
"I can try to warm it up if you want…"
He rubs the palms of his hands softly, trying to heat your hands with more intensity.
"You know, I’m good at this. I’ll get you nice and warm."
Winks as if it’s a joke, but his touch is firm, and he doesn’t seem eager to let go.
"I think it’s warmed up a bit, but I’ll give you some extra attention, just to make sure."
Riwoo
He looks at you for a second with a sly smile.
"Cold, huh? Hmm…"
Lee takes your hand, placing it against his chest, where the warmth of his body is immediate.
"See? I’m practically a walking heater."
He starts rubbing your hands gently, but he can’t hide his proud grin at being helpful.
"Now, if this isn’t enough, I guess you’ll have to convince me to warm you up another way. I’ll accept payment in hugs, just so you know."
He chuckles, but his touch stays firm, as if he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.
Jaehyun
Myungjae doesn’t answer right away but takes your hand slowly, analyzing every detail as though he’s thinking about something deeper.
"Ah, it’s really cold..." He brings your hand close to his own face, blowing on it playfully with a teasing smile.
"Think that’ll help? Or were you expecting something more dramatic?"
He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement, but his grip is firm and the warmth of his hands says otherwise.
"Now you’ve got no excuse to pull away. I’m holding onto this until I’m sure it’s warmed up."
Taesan
Dongmin looks at you with an arched eyebrow, a playful smirk on his face.
"Really cold? Let me see."
He grabs your hand, but the way he runs his thumb across your skin makes the simple gesture feel much more intimate.
"You know, this seems like more of an excuse to hold my hand than anything else." He laughs quietly but doesn’t let go.
"Not that I mind, of course. Just let me know when the other hand gets cold too, okay? I won’t complain."
His voice is a little lower, almost suggesting more than he’s saying.
Leehan
At first, Donghyun acts like he didn’t hear you, but then he suddenly grabs your hand between his with a grip that makes you catch your breath for a moment.
"Huh, really cold, huh? You always seem to find a way to get close to me."
He flashes a sideways grin, biting his lip lightly, but the intensity in his eyes says something more.
Rubs your hands slowly, almost on purpose.
"If it doesn’t work, let me know and I’ll find other ways to warm you up."
His voice is deep, but the smile never leaves his face, leaving you completely speechless.
Woonhak
Woonagi barely lets you finish speaking before grabbing your hand with both of his.
"Give it here, I won’t let you stay cold!"
His hands are warm and soft, and he even blows gently on your hand as if that might help.
And his smile is so sincere that it feels warmer than the actual touch.
"See, it's already working, right? It’s getting warmer, huh?"
He keeps holding your hand even when it’s clear the cold is gone.
"I think now you can’t let go, just to make sure."
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msmk11 · 2 days ago
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okay so hear me out for an angst idea. remus x muggle reader. they’re dating and so in love and she doesn’t know he’s a wizard or werewolf yet. all of the sudden he shuts her out (cause he’s scared to tell them) and she’s stressing thinking he’s done w her and go from there where you please 😘
(also feel free to make gender neutral i just used she pronouns bc that’s what i use lol)
Magic Tricks
Remus Lupin x fem!reader
WC: 2k
CW: Angst; hurt/comfort; Remus doesn’t know how to communicate
A/n: thank you for the request lovely! I definitely tried to make it angsty, but I didn’t wanna prolong it cuz I know Remus would be trying to remedy the problem ASAP!! I hope you enjoy
The first day or so of silence you give him an out, figuring something is going on. But when he still doesn’t reach out after four days, a pit of dread begins to fill your stomach. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you. Not with Remus, obviously, but with other boyfriends. Disinterest was always the first step, and then silence, and then the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me.” You just don’t understand what you could’ve done wrong. Things with Remus, at least you thought, were going well. Great, even. You were certain he was going to be the one you would marry. But now? Now you’re not so sure.
Instead of spending Friday night depressed and alone, you tag along after work to the company’s happy hour. You hope it’ll get your mind off your suddenly distant boyfriend and even help you loosen up.
You’re sitting at a table chatting with some girls from your department about one of their annoying neighbors when the restaurant door opens again and a chilly breeze blows through. You tighten your jacket as you look up at the brisk intrusion and falter There, getting seated by the hostess, is Remus. With another girl. 10,000 emotions are swirling through you, but the worst by far is shock.
Your shoulder is shaken, “hey, you okay?”
Your throat constricts in your chest and you’re not sure you can respond to your concerned coworker, “hmm?”
“You don’t look so good” another says.
“I- I’m sorry I just, I just saw my boyfriend, over there, and he’s with another girl.”
A plethora of protests and groans of disgust emit from your friends but you tune them all out. You’re hurt and confused, and before you know it, your legs have carried you over to where Remus and this redhead girl are sitting.
“Remus?”
You hate how hoarse your voice comes out, and your stomach twists in embarrassment.
The brunette’s head snaps up, eyes meeting yours and widening, “dove?”
Your eyes flit between the happy pair and you scoff, “funny seeing you here, sweetheart. I see now why I haven’t heard from you in days.”
The redhead chokes on her drink, cheeks turning a dark shade of crimson, “oh no! That’s not! We’re not!”
You glare at her and look back at Remus, arms crossed, “what the fuck, Remus? If you weren’t interested in me anymore you could’ve just said it. Instead, you’re going behind my back with other girls. That’s low.”
You turn around and begin to storm off, angry tears building in your eyes.
A warm, familiar hand grabs your wrist, stopping you, “dove, wait, no! It’s not what it looks like. I swear! Please give me a chance to explain. This is Lily! You remember her, right? I’ve talked about her before. She’s my friend from school.”
You stare at the love of your life disbelievingly, “seems like she’s more than just your friend.”
Remus shakes his head desperately, “no that’s not it. Please, let me talk. Just-“ his eyes flit around the room anxiously, aware of the many people watching the scene unfold, “can we go somewhere private to talk.”
“Now you wanna talk?” And damn it, a few tears start rolling down your cheeks, “Remus I haven’t heard from you in a week, and then I catch you with another girl. You have to know how it seems. Even if nothing happened, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve ignored me, and made me feel worthless. I- I can’t be with someone who ghosts whenever they feel like it!”
“Baby, my love, please,” he pleads, his hands trembling.
“Remus, I’m done. I can’t,” you pull out of his grasp and stalk back over to your table, grabbing your purse and leaving in a hurry of embarrassed tears.
You’ve been bawling your eyes out on the couch for the last few hours, wallowing in your own self-pity. You can’t believe it. You and Remus are really over. The love of your life is gone. You’re not sure you can ever recover. Your phone has been buzzing like crazy- likely Remus- but you choose to ignore it. You can’t talk to him right now, not after everything that happened tonight.
A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts and you stand, wrapping a blanket around you and wiping the remnants of tears from your stained cheeks. When you open it you’re surprised, but not, to see Remus.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dove. I came here to see you…. to explain….everything. I didn’t get the chance at the bar, and you wouldn’t answer my texts or calls. So I’m standing here now, before you, to just give me one chance to make things right. Please, sweetheart, I’m begging you.”
You concentrate on him, eyes scanning his form. His brunette hair is tousled and messy, his clothes are disheveled, and he looks unbelievably tired and stressed. Even though you’re angry and upset, you love him still, and your heart tells you to fight for any possible chance there might be to save this relationship.
“Fine, come in.”
You turn around and stalk into the living room. Remus’ heavy footsteps fall into step behind you and he shuts the door, sealing off the cold night. You take up home on your gray couch again, finding comfort in it amongst the most uncomfortable situation of your life.
He looks at you awkwardly and ruffles his hair, “can I sit?”
You scootch over to give him room even though your body craves to be closer.
“So, what great excuse do you have for tonight? For ignoring me?”
Remus coughs and turns a shade paler, “uhm, right, okay. Uh- I,” he curses quietly, “sorry. I. Okay I’m just gonna say it. I’ve been ignoring you because I’m- I’m a wizard. And I was scared to tell you because I thought you’d run away and think I’m crazy and I love you so much and. Yeah.”
Disbelief. That’s the only emotion you feel. You scoff loudly and glare at him, “are you fucking kidding me, Remus? A wizard. That’s your excuse? And what great one do you have for Lily, huh? Let me guess, she’s a vampire.”
“Well no she’s a witch actually and-“
Remus freezes, realizing that doesn’t really matter because you aren’t being serious.
Tears threaten to spill from your eyes again and you stand up, wiping them away frustratedly, “Do you think I’m stupid, Lupin? Do you really discount my intelligence and dignity so much that you think you can use a bullshit excuse like that? I thought you’d at least grant me a mature conversation, but your behavior this past week should’ve warned me that wouldn’t be the case.”
“No, beautiful! I’m not lying, I would never, ever treat you so unkindly I- Well I know I’ve been unkind this week, but just let me show you.”
He fumbles in his dark brown coat and pulls out a long brown stick.
“Let me guess, that’s your wand. And where’s the broom?”
“I can’t afford one,” Remus says with a blush.
You only roll your eyes, “right then, let’s see you do a spell if you really are a wizard.”
He clears his throat nervously and nods. He flicks his ‘wand’ and a bouquet of red roses appears in his hand.
Your eyes widen and you’re impressed, but still not convinced. A flower- appearing-trick is an act you’re sure any skilled magician can pull off with some practice.
Remus extends them to you- “an apology. For being a right prick.”
A smile wavers on your face but you push it down and don’t accept his gift, “is that supposed to convince me, Remus? Any magician could do that.”
His hopeful gaze falters and he bites his lip, “right. Okay- okay hold on uh….Please don’t freak out.”
Remus stands up and moves to the middle of the room, and it’s not lost on you that you really feel like you’re attending a children’s magic show. He holds his hand with the wand to his head and taps twice and right before your eyes Remus slowly disappears into thin air.
Your heart quickens in your chest and you curl into the couch, “Remus! What the fuck?”
“Dove! I told you not to freak out.”
Something touches your arm and you scream, flinching away.
“Sorry, sorry, my love. It’s just me. I’m right in front of you.”
You tremble as your eyes dart around the room, brain not comprehending how you can hear but not see him.
“Baby, reach out slowly.”
You shake your head.
“Please,” he asks in a strained whisper.
With shaky hands you reluctantly reach out until your hands hit something. You flinch slightly, but when something warm wraps around your wrkdr you relax. Even when invisible you’d recognize that touch- the gentle, calloused skin of Remus’ hands.
“H-how? I- you- magic….”
Slowly Remus appears back in view and sits down, tentatively taking both of your hands into his. He almost sighs audibly when you don’t fight his touch.
“I’m happy to answer any questions you want, dove. Just, I want to know… do you still want me? Can you forgive me for lying and ignoring you? Do you think I’m a freak?”
You’re certainly dazed, but you’re awakened from your trance at those final words…. do you think I’m a freak?
Are you overwhelmed? Yes. Are you freaked out? Absolutely? Do you still not totally belive magic is real? For sure. Are you still mad at Remus? Yeah, maybe a little.
But do you think he’s a freak?
“Baby,” you sigh, eyes softening and hand moving to cup his face, “of course not. We… we certainly have a lot to talk about… both magical and communication based… but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. I’d love you less if you cheated or were a terrible person, or lied for a bad reason. But for being different than me… for being you, I could never, ever hate you. I don’t think you’re a freak baby. I love you, for all that you are. And I wish you would’ve trusted in me a little more.”
“I was just so scared to lose you,” he confesses hoarsely, his tired eyes dimming with sadness, “but I see I did that more by hiding than just telling you the truth.”
You hum and nod, running your thumb over his bony cheeks…
“Rem?”
He hums, brown eyes looking at you so softly you melt.
“I obviously have lots of other questions but first… Lily… you’re really not-“
“No! No! Dove, never. I love Lily, but she really is just a friend. She was actually lecturing me on the way to the pub tonight about how I was gonna mess things up with you if I didn’t get my act together.”
“Think I need to meet her formally…” you murmur amusedly, “we’d get along well…”
Remus chuckles fondly and carefully wraps you into his embrace.
You go nearly boneless.
“I really am sorry, my love,” he murmurs into your hair.
You inhale the scent of his sweater and the lingering smell of old books on his collar and sigh, “no more apologies, baby. Just promise me you’ll never do that again.”
Remus kisses your forehead gently, “never. But on that note, I should probably confess that I’m also a-“
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beef-brisket · 20 hours ago
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Lucifer narrowed his eyes and stared at Adam: How long ago...?
Adam was fully sweating now, what was the big deal about him cooking? They don't even know if it's bad or not.
Adam: Uh... t-two...
Lucifer: Two what? Months?
Adam: ...hundred.
Lucifer gasped: Two hundred years ago?! Adam! That's insane!
Adam: N-No it's not! Shut up. Babe! It'll be fine! I just have to get into the swing again, and I feel really fucking confident about this, alright?
Smiling, Adam folded his arms: And I think I've learnt a thing or two that'll blow your cock off.
Lucifer: That ISN'T your mouth?!
Adam blushed: No- and d-don't taint the kitchen with that fucking language, alright? When I absorbed Beelzeboptop I may have... you know, learnt how to cook.
Lucifer: Beelze- who- what? That's not her name.
Adam: Just- fucking- give me a shot, yeah? I'll blow your daughterrr-
Lucifer stared at Adam, hoping he'll add onto that sentence.
Adam: Rrr's fucking mind. Then she can go tell that dog girlfriend of hers how much better I am than her. Who knows, maybe she'll like cock instead of Vaggies whatever the fuck she has down there. All thanks to my fucking, babe. Because of me, you might get fucking grandkids.
Lucifer: ...Okay. that was a lot to unpack. First... uh, grandkids aren't an issue, Charlie can easily get Maggie pregnant, or she could get pregnant herself... I was a Seraphim, remember? She's part Seraphim- and second why would your cooking make her like dick...?
Adam: Uh... because I cooked it? The first dick?
Lucifer: ...Alright. we're clearing this up right now. Michael is the first dick. He was the first angel made. So, there. You're like the... tenth dick or something.
Adam: What can I say? It took them ten tries to get it right~.
Lucifer: ...I make you crazy with my dick, Adam. I'm clearly better.
Adam: Fuck you- I can make any bitch cream and scream- that's trademarked by the way- on my fucking cock! Don't matter the bitch! I can do it with anyone-.
Lucifer: Other than Eve?
Adam gasped: How fucking dare you- I had nearly nine hundred kids with her- that's nine hundred orgasms!
Lucifer: For you? Obviously.
Adam: ...look. fuck you, and fuck Heaven- especially Michael. I'm cooking fucking dinner tonight and you'll see how fucking good I am.
Lucifer smiled: Amazing. You didn't absorb me and you somehow have more pride. Maybe you should have taken over Hell, you obviously have bested all the sins.
Adam: ...Suck my ass. I'm fucking cooking.
Lucifer laughed: Alright, this is your trail run. Fuck this up, and you're out.
Adam: O-Out? Out, like... OUT or... just out.
Lucifer glared, still smirking at Adam: Out.
Adam: ...Out. Okay... good. Right. Fair enough. Out.
The Sin of Adam!au.
One more quick au before I fall asleep.
Adam falls to Hell after his death. But he doesn't wake up in Pride. He wakes up in Wrath. Adam is completely pissed off and just itching for revenge.
In this, Adam conquers each ring of Hell, growling stronger until he's on the same wavelength as Lucifer, power wise.
Lucifer has no idea what's going on. He's slowly losing contact with the Sins, and everyone is in a state of panic. That's until he returns home from a few days away, trying to find the Sins, that he sees his daughters hotel, and Pentagram city destroyed.
Thankfully, Charlie and her friends are fine. But what she explains is unbelievable.
Charlie: It was Adam, dad!
Lucifer: Adam? He's dead Charlie- I buried him myself.
Charlie: I thought so, too! He was looking for you! He's alive!
Lucifer gets his daughter to hide. Everything is in a state of chaos. He can't find Adam anywhere.
Until he returns home and sees someone sitting on his throne.
After a long, destructive fight, Lucifer realizes that Adam only absorbed the Sins. Their not dead
Adam has literally been taken over by the powers of Hell.
Can Lucifer contain and find a way to get Adam and the Sins back before he destroys Hell and everything undead thing in it??
How will Lucifer get Adam back??
Who knows 🤷
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Adam: You can't defeat me now Lucifer!
Lucifer: Oh yes I can! I'm going to fuck the sins out of you!!
Adam: Wait what?
Ozzie inside: YEAH BABY!!
Sorry I'm feeling a little silly lmao 😂
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xmads-omensx · 2 days ago
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Hi I'm new here so, Can a have something about Noah calming his girl down, when she has a anxiety crisis? Sorry if this is kind weird ou anyting, but sometimes a think about Noah to make me feel better about my anxiety. (Sorry for my english, it' mu secong language)
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Word Count: 1,295
Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader
Content Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, swearing, vague mentions of past trauma, comfort, crying
Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp
Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request! It was actually quite therapeutic for me to write this since I have recently started struggling with panic attacks. I hope you enjoy!
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Panic attacks were nothing new to me. In fact, it was quite rare for me to go any long length of time without having one.
Since meeting Noah, however, my anxiety had been somewhat better. I never really went out alone anymore, so I always had someone to distract me when my anxiety was getting bad. Panic attacks became a scarce occurrence which reduced more and more as our relationship progressed.
Granted, Noah had been taking a break from touring, so he was always just… there.
We hung out all of the time. In fact, it was odd if we weren’t together.
I loved that relationship that we had, but part of me felt guilty about it. Like I was depending on him.
Being near him made me feel at ease. Something that was taken away when he left for tour.
The first couple of days were manageable, but as time ticked by, my anxiety started to kick in again.
It wasn’t like I was having panic attacks left right and centre, but I felt more on edge. Going to supermarkets began to be the most stressful part of my week. I never interacted with people there anyway, so my anxiousness felt unnecessary.
 My stress levels increased the longer that Noah was away, and part of me felt guilty about it, which only made things worse.
I shouldn’t need to depend on Noah to keep my anxiety at bay,  I needed to learn how to deal with it on my own.
He called me every night and after every show to talk about our days and just  spend time together, which was the highlight of my day, but it was still hard being so far away from him. On top of that, our calls got shorter and shorter the more my anxiety took hold of me.
I became paranoid that he would leave me since the calls had been keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning, touring would be easier for him if he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and who would want to be with someone who can barely make it out of the house without freaking out.
In an attempt to break out of this crushing feeling, I invited Jesse out for lunch. We went to a beautiful café that was independently run by a lovely woman called Katie, who was hoping to add a small bookstore to the side of the café since many of her customers just came to the café to read.
Jesse’s ears perked up at the mention of this and he began to ask her questions about the books she liked, clearly flirting, but it was nice seeing him so enthusiastic about something like this. It put me at ease knowing that Jesse was the talkative one, therefore I wouldn’t have to do much other that sit and enjoy my iced tea and blueberry muffin, which were both absolutely divine.
I went to bed that night feeling peaceful, which was something that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Noah had called that night, but I was too tired to answer, so instead I sent him a simple text.
I’m too tired to call, but I can’t wait to hear from you tomorrow. I love you.
I awoke refreshed and well-rested which was a feeling that I welcomed with open arms.
My mind and body was freed from any stress or anxiety, which was a rare occurrence since Noah had been on tour.
Getting ready for the day felt even better. I took a long shower before doing my skincare, blow-drying my hair and putting on my makeup. I felt clean. I felt good. Fuck that, I felt amazing.
The only thing missing was a tall, tattooed man wrapping his arms around my waist as I went through the steps of my skincare routine and quizzing me on what each item did.
Shaking that thought from my head before it saddened me, I went about my day.
Jesse was sat on the sofa watching Star Wars whilst making awful lightsaber noises, making me laugh at him as I went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee.
“You got any plans today?” Jesse asked.
“Not really, I was thinking about going shopping. I need some new concealer so I was thinking about heading to Sephora.” I said with a shrug, sipping my warm coffee.
“Can I come?” He asked.
“Yeah of course.” I said with a smile.
Spending time with Jesse had really been my saving grace since Noah was away. He had rapidly become my partner in crime. So much so that we had made as many objects that we could in Noah and Jolly’s home studio upside down, simply because their reaction would be priceless.
“Yes!” Jesse exclaimed, making me laugh.
Once I had finished my coffee, the two of us set out to the shopping mall to spend way too much money, as we usually did.
Our little outing had gone excellently well until we were leaving Sephora.
A girl who looked about nineteen, bumped into me. Granted, it was completely my fault as I was so engrossed in conversation with Jesse that I didn’t see her coming at all.
“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” She snarled.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry! It’s completely my fault, I wasn’t looking-“ I began to apologise.
“Save it. You’re Noah Sebastian’s girlfriend aren’t you?” She asked with a smirk.
Fuck.
The girl quickly took a photo of Jesse and I before walking away.
“Twitter is going to love it when I post this. Think of the cheating rumours!” She called over her shoulder with an evil smirk as she walked away.
My heart began to race.
Oh no.
Noah was away.
He would see the photos.
Oh shit he’s going to think I’ve actually cheated on him.
With his roommate and friend none the less.
Jesse didn’t say anything, but simply ushered me back to the car park and drove me home, completely ignoring the rest of the day that we had planned.
My body went into shut down.
My eyes stared in front of me.
My breathing quickened, making my chest hurt.
My heart raced.
Oh god.
I was having a panic attack.
I tried to calm myself down by playing Tetris on my phone. It usually helped take my mind off of it.
It didn’t work.
Before I knew it, I was curled up on Noah’s side of the bed with the lights off.
Jesse knew what to do if this happened since Noah had given him a brief crash course, but it wasn’t really helping.
I needed Noah.
Time flew by, or did it crawl by? I couldn’t tell.
Large hands stroked my hair. I could hear a heart beating.
Who was it?
The scent of Dior Sauvage began to fill my nostrils as I looked up and saw Noah’s angelic features looking down at me.
A lone tear escaped my eye as relief washed over me.
He was home.
“Don’t speak baby, just relax.” He whispered. “Jesse called and told me what happened. I was on my way home to see you anyway, so I don’t want you to worry about that. You’re safe. That girl’s post got deleted after Matt and Davis sassed her into deleting it.”
That made me laugh, which made Noah’s delicate smile widen.
“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” He whispered.
No matter what happened in my life, Noah would always be my safe space. I felt calm in his arms. I felt at peace, which was becoming rare for me.
As long as I had Noah, I would be okay.
Because he had me.
No matter what.
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themayorautumn · 2 days ago
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i have never written fanfiction in my entire life.
"work is the one redeeming thing that gives them purpose."
fuck me. here's something. i had to get it out of my system. i think about them. a lot.
“He was wearing a green coat, not blue.”
A dark haired man sits in a worn out office chair, face illuminated by a flickering desk lamp. His shirt is half unbuttoned, tie hanging loosely on his neck, begging to be taken off. He fidgets with the knot absent mindedly, as if it brings him some sort of comfort. Maybe he can't bear the thought of it being taken off, the last facade of performative professionalism.
His partner is pacing around the desk he’s sitting in front of, slicking his hair back constantly. It’s obvious that it’s a habit that has stuck around with him from his youth, back when his hair was fuller and eyes were brighter, and a small wink paired with a slight smile would be enough to end his night with a pretty chick in his bed. Tonight, there is no chick, and there is no bed. There is the sound of pen on paper as the man sitting by the desk crosses something off a list. Every single word on it is utterly illegible.
“Blue or green,” the man walking takes a break to light a cigarette. “It was a winter coat, puffy, expensive, you don't see that shit often around these parts. The color is a distraction, Vicquemare.”
“Yet she insisted it was sage green, didn't she? Who the fuck says that? She wouldn't have been so insistent if the color didn't matter, somehow.”
“She’s a wolf, that’s why. It’s a con. She knew what she was doing.”
“Alright,” the dark haired man, Vicquemare, gets up lazily and holds his hand out for the pack of cigarettes. His partner hands it to him. “You’re really speaking out of your ass now, Harry. What the fuck does that mean, ‘she’s a wolf’?”
“Extravagant eye makeup. Crimson red. You been to that bar called ‘Plume du Phénix’? I went there last month with that journalist guy, what's his name-”
“Pierre.”
“Right. Him, he told me it was the perfect place to get some connections. Meet people from the inside, if you catch my drift.”
“Fucking hell. You blew off work to go to a fucking strip club, did you?”
“Didn't blow off work. We went to that stakeout after, don't you remember Vic?”
“Oh yeah. You were complaining about your fucking headache the whole time.”
“Crimson makeup. They wear it there, it’s like their signature look. Blood of their former selves or whatever. Some new age bullshit. They’re dead fucking serious about it though. They don't let you in without it.”
“You wore makeup?”
“Easy now. Don't get too excited.”
Harry walks over to the desk to ash his cigarette, but doesn't get back to his pacing. He stands next to Vicquemare, staring at the ground, lost in thought.
“I did. Pierre made me wear it. They’re fucking wild in there, man. You wouldn't believe it.”
“Why didn't you invite me?”
“Are you jealous?”
“We’re partners. If you’re going somewhere to ‘get connections’, feel like I should be involved.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time. It really is a shame. You would look good in crimson.”
Vicquemare looks away from him for just a second, not enough to mean anything tangible, but enough for Harry to crack a slight smile. He puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps it there as he continues.
“They have this thing against authority of any kind. They preach ‘anarchy’ or their performative version of it, which is where they get together in back alley bars and drink until they don't remember what they're there for. Then they wake up and do it all over again. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.”
“And this is good for connections, how?”
“They're stupid but they're bonded together like a pack of wild wolves. They know everyone in the pack and protect each other like they're blood bound. Probably are too, the freaks.”
“So she was protecting the guy? Cause she knew the coat was actually blue, but saying sage green specifically would make it seem like it would be impossible for it to be any other color?”
“Look at my boy, learning so fast under my coaching. Exactly, Vic. She’s misleading us.”
Vicquemare tugs on the knot of his tie even more insistently, as if an internal fight is going on in his head about whether or not keeping that piece of cloth there is as important as he seems to think it is. Instead of coming to a conclusion, he lights another cigarette and looks back over to the list.
“Wish we talked with her sooner, then. This fucks over our entire theory now, doesn't it? We gotta start from fucking stratch. Find that blue-sage green coat guy. Whatever his name was.”
“We can find him. We can find him, tomorrow.”
Harry reaches for a drawer in the desk and takes out a dark red bottle. He grins and holds it out for Vicquemare to read the label.
“Aged merlot. Been saving it for a special occasion.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the occasion tonight?”
“You do not give me enough credit, Jean-y boy. You do not think I am a man of class, a superior officer who cares for his lieutenant.”
He takes out two glasses from the same drawer and pours two very generous servings.
“Happy birthday, Vicquemare. Here’s to us surviving another year in this fucking shithole.”
Jean looks at his glass wordlessly, his hand still on his tie. He’s stopped fidgeting with it now, as if he’s reached a conclusion but is too afraid, or too cautious to act on it. He smiles. It looks strange on his face, laborious, but genuine. It reaches his eyes and accentuates the wrinkles around them, too many for a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday.
“Thank you, shitkid.”
And it’s clear he means it.
They drink one glass, then one more, then Harry procures another bottle of whiskey this time, which they also finish, and as Vicquemare digs in his jacket pocket for that pack of Astra Reds he’s sure he bought earlier that day, Harry bursts out laughing.
“To think it would ever come to this, huh, Jean? Is this how you imagined entering your thirties?”
Jean finally finds the treasure he’s been looking for and takes a long drag of the cigarette. The ashtray is overflowing, which seems to bother neither of them as cigarette butts litter the desk and the floor. He stumbles over to Harry and smiles, a larger grin than the one before, but it doesn't reach his eyes. They look sad, desperate, and appropriately gray, as if any semblance of color on them would be a disservice to the way they look at the world. Harry sees himself in them, not sure if he’s imagining it or not, and not caring. It’s hard to care, when it’s the only time his reflection doesn't terrify him to death.
Jean takes Harry’s hand and puts it on his tie, curling his fingers around it and tugging on it gently. Harry knows what it means. He���s seen him do it time and time again, always in a different context, but always with the same intention. ‘You take the first step, Harry. You make me believe that you want me, you allow me to pretend.’. It’s his role, he knows it, and he unties the tie.
“I didn't imagine anything. I couldn't imagine anything. What is there to imagine? What is there to fucking want?”
It’s a question that doesn't have an answer. It doesn't have an answer that can be spoken out loud. It doesn't have an answer that can be given without empty bottles clanging around on the desk, without the assurance of their blurred memories, without their hands trembling as they reach for each other, something to hold onto as if nothing else in the world matters. They have to keep moving, they have to keep reassuring each other that they still have this one thing. That the taste of smoke on each other's lips, the crumpled case files surrounding them, and Harry’s rough fingers on Jean’s disheveled hair are enough to make them forget the emptiness that they both feel.
At the end of the day, they don't have anything else.
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makeucrawl · 3 days ago
Note
PRIESTERMAN
COYLE
NSFW
YES FATHER
“Kneel for me”
Father Easterman fucks Coyle in a church~
((Coyle is kinda OOC in this. I was too into priest easterman okaaaay???? Also this is incredibly long cause I’ve been thinking about priest easterman waaaaay too much.))
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“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you, Leland?” The voice was low, soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the stillness of the confessional like a blade.
Coyle’s heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears as his fingers dug into the edge of the wooden bench beneath him. His throat tightened, his mouth dry, the air in the small space suddenly too thick. He couldn’t see Father Easterman through the lattice screen, but he felt him—his presence filling the confined space, oppressive and inescapable.
He tried to respond, but his voice failed him, leaving only the sound of his shaky breathing. Swallowing hard, he finally forced out, “I… dunno what ya mean, Father.” The words came out trembling, unconvincing.
A low chuckle drifted through the screen, rich and knowing. “Don’t lie to me, Leland. I saw the way you looked at me during Mass. The way your eyes lingered on my hands when I placed the Eucharist on your tongue.”
Coyle’s face burned, the heat spreading to the tips of his ears. He wanted to protest, to deny it, but he couldn’t. The memory of those hands—graceful, deliberate—had haunted him ever since.
Those fingers, pushing the wafer into place, forcing his throat to flex as he swallowed. And now, here they were, alone in the dim light of the confessional, and all Coyle could think about was how badly he wanted those same fingers wrapped around his cock.
“I…” Coyle’s voice cracked, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his hands trembling. “I know it’s…wrong, Father. That’s why I’m here. To confess.”
Silence followed, heavy and expectant. For a fleeting moment, Coyle dared to hope the priest might let it go, offer absolution, and dismiss him with penance. But then Father Easterman spoke again, his voice softer now, almost gentle.
“Tell me, Leland… What do you think of when you look at me?”
The question struck him like a blow, stealing the breath from his lungs. Coyle froze, shame and panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t answer that—not truthfully. Not here. And yet, the priest’s tone, calm and coaxing, pulled at something deep within him, urging him to speak.
“I… I can’t, Father,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Another chuckle, darker this time, laced with something almost predatory. “You can’t, or you won’t? Remember, God already knows your thoughts, Leland. There’s no hiding from Him. But saying it aloud… that’s how you unburden your soul.”
The air felt charged, the space between them humming with tension. Coyle’s breathing quickened, his body leaning unconsciously closer to the screen. His mind raced, battling the shame and the overwhelming desire to let the words out.
“I’ve thought about… your hands,” he admitted finally, his voice hoarse, trembling. “On me. Touching me- I’ve thought about you telling me what to do. Making me kneel for you…”
The confession tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His entire body tensed, bracing for the priest’s condemnation. But the silence that followed was not cold or angry. It was something else—something thick, weighted, and charged with unspoken intent.
And then he heard it: a sharp, audible inhale on the other side of the screen.
“Is that so?” Father Easterman murmured, his tone laced with a quiet amusement, almost teasing. “Tell me more, Leland. What other sinful thoughts have you entertained?”
Coyle’s stomach twisted, his arousal warring with his guilt. He couldn’t believe he was saying these things out loud—especially here, of all places—but now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I’ve imagined… your mouth on me- o-on my cock.. Taking me deep until I… until I spill down your throat.”
The confession hung in the air, heavy and forbidden, and Coyle immediately wished he could take it back. He felt exposed, raw, his deepest desires laid bare for the priest to dissect.
For a long moment, Father Easterman said nothing. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer to the screen, his voice dropping to a murmur.
“And what if I told you, Leland, that I’ve thought about you, too?”
Coyle’s breath caught, his entire body going rigid. What was that? His mind reeled, struggling to process the words.
But before he could respond, the latch on the confessional door clicked open, and the priest stepped inside, his tall, lithe frame filling the cramped space.
Coyle’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of him—the stark black of his clerical dress, the white collar pressed against his throat, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light filtering through the screen.
Father Easterman reached out, his long, delicate fingers trailing along the line of Coyle’s jaw before sliding down to grip his chin firmly.
“Open your mouth,” the priest commanded, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for argument.
Coyle obeyed without hesitation, his lips parting instinctively. Father Easterman’s thumb brushed against his lower lip, cold and calloused, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Such a good boy,” the priest murmured, his dark eyes gleaming with something that made Coyle’s stomach flip. “Now, let’s see if you can take me as well as you’ve imagined.”
Coyle’s pulse throbbed in his ears, his entire body trembling as Father Easterman leaned in closer, his free hand tangling in Coyle’s hair, pulling just enough to make him moan.
“Remember,” the priest whispered, his breath hot against Coyle’s ear, “this is your penance.”
The air in the confessional was thick, suffocating, and charged with something Coyle couldn’t name—something sinful, electric, and entirely too real. His lips were still parted, waiting, trembling, as the priest loomed over him, a shadow of authority cloaked in God’s garb.
“Strip,” Father Easterman commanded, his voice low and edged with a calm that sent shivers racing down Coyle’s spine. The word wasn’t a request; it was an order, firm and unyielding, like the man himself.
Coyle’s hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his mind a haze of panic and arousal. He could barely think straight, but his body moved on its own, obeying without question. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his arms before he dropped it to the floor. His belt buckle clinked softly as he unbuckled it, the sound deafening in the small space.
Father Easterman watched him with an intensity that burned, his black eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin. “Kneel,” he said, his tone softer now but no less commanding.
Coyle’s knees hit the floor with a dull thud, the cool wood biting into his skin. He stared up at the priest, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Father Easterman stepped closer, the hem of his clerical dress brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. The proximity was overwhelming, the scent of incense and something earthy clinging to the man like a second skin.
“Your thoughts are filthy, aren’t they?” Father Easterman murmured, tilting Coyle’s chin up with two fingers. No lies. That was what those dark eyes seemed to say.
Coyle swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Yes, Father.”
The corner of the priest’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that melted away almost instantly. “And yet you came here. To me. Seeking absolution.” He leaned down, his face inches from Coyle’s, his breath warm against his lips. “Do you think you deserve it?”
Coyle hesitated, his mind spinning. Did he? Could he even want forgiveness when all he could think about was how Father Easterman’s hands would feel on him, inside him, claiming him for something far darker than salvation?
“I—” His voice cracked, and he licked his lips, desperate for some semblance of composure. “I don’t know.”
Father Easterman hummed, a low, approving sound that made heat flare in Coyle’s stomach. “Let me guide you, then,” he said, his fingers trailing down Coyle’s jaw to his throat, where they rested lightly, not quite pressing, but the threat was there. A warning.
Coyle nodded, his body trembling under the priest’s touch. He was powerless to resist, not that he wanted to. Every nerve in his body was alight, humming with anticipation.
Father Easterman’s hand moved to his chest, fingers curling around the cross draped around his neck. He lifted it slowly, the cross slipping free to dangle from his fingers, gleaming like a weapon.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice smooth and steady, as though this act were the most natural thing in the world.
Coyle obeyed immediately, his lips parting. The tip of the cross brushed against his tongue, cold and bitter, sending a jolt through him. Father Easterman guided the cold metal further in, until it pressed against the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.
“Good boy,” the priest murmured, his tone rich with approval, his thumb stroking Coyle’s cheek. “You take it so well.”
The praise went straight to Coyle’s core, igniting a fire that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the cross in his mouth, the way the priest’s fingers forced his jaw wider, stretched his lips. It was humiliating, yet the intensity of it sparked deep, unshakable thrill.
Slowly, Father Easterman withdrew the cross, a glimmering thread of saliva clinging to it before he wiped it clean on the edge of his garment. His expression was unreadable as he took a step back.
“Touch yourself,” Father Easterman ordered, his gaze piercing. “Show me how much you want this.”
Coyle hesitated for only a moment before his hand moved to his cock, already hard and aching. He wrapped his fingers around himself, his touch tentative at first, but the priest’s sharp inhale spurred him on. He stroked himself slowly, his hips canting upward into his palm, while the priest watched with rapt attention.
“Faster,” the priest urged, his voice rough now, betraying the carefully constructed facade of control.
Coyle obeyed, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach. His other hand braced against the floor, his nails digging into the wood as he worked himself faster, harder.
Father Easterman knelt in front of him, cupping Coyle’s face in one hand. “Look at me,” he demanded.
Coyle’s eyes snapped open, meeting the priest’s gaze. Those dark eyes were full of hunger now, raw and unrelenting.
“You belong to me,” Father Easterman whispered, his voice dripping with possessive certainty. “From this moment on, every sin, every thought, every part of you is mine.”
Coyle moaned, his strokes faltering as the words sank in, wrapping around him like chains. He didn’t care if it was wrong, if it was blasphemous. All he cared about was the man in front of him, commanding him, claiming him.
The priest’s hand moved to the back of his neck, gripping him firmly. “Cum for me, Leland,”
It was all Coyle needed. His orgasm ripped through him, sudden and intense, his body convulsing as he spilled over his hand and onto the floor. His head swam, his vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath.
Father Easterman watched him with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but his expression quickly shifted back to that calm, controlled mask. He stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his outfit and fastening the buttons with practiced ease.
“We’re not done,” He reached down, grabbing Coyle by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”
Coyle stumbled, his legs still weak, but he did as he was told. The wood was cool against his palms as he leaned forward, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
Father Easterman stepped close behind him, one hand resting on his hip while the other traced the curve of his spine. “This will hurt,” he warned, his voice steady. “But pain brings clarity, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t have time to respond before he felt the priest’s fingers press against him, slick with spit he hadn’t noticed being prepared.
“Relax,” Father Easterman murmured, his breath hot against Coyle’s neck.
He tried to obey, but his body tensed instinctively as the priest pushed a finger inside him, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable.
“Shh,” the priest soothed, his other hand moving to Coyle’s shoulder, holding him steady. “You can take it.”
The words were reassuring, but Coyle couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips as another finger joined the first, scissoring him open.
Father Easterman leaned in closer, murmuring into his ear. “Tell me, do you still want absolution after this?”
Coyle groans longingly as Father Easterman withdrew his fingers, leaving him empty and exposed. The cold air of the confessional brushed against his sensitive skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He could hear the faint rustle of fabric behind him—the priest adjusting, preparing—but he didn’t dare turn around. His hands trembled where they gripped the edge of the wooden bench, knuckles white with tension.
The priest stepped closer, his cassock brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. Coyle’s mouth went dry as Father Easterman reached for him, his long fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before sliding down to grip his throat.
“You don’t deserve this,” the priest murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point in Coyle’s neck. “But I’ll give it to you anyway.”
Before Coyle could respond, Father Easterman pressed his chest against the unforgiving wood of the confessional wall. The roughness of the surface bit into his skin, grounding him even as his mind spiraled. He heard the sound of a zipper, then the rustle of fabric. His heart pounded so loudly he was certain the entire church could hear it.
The priest’s body pressed flush against his back, hot and solid, and Coyle let out a shaky breath as he felt the tip of the man’s cock nudging between his thighs.
“Relax,” Father Easterman ordered, his voice calm and soothing. One hand splayed across Coyle’s lower back, holding him steady, while the other guided himself to the twitching opening.
Coyle squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. The first press was slow, deliberate, and he hissed through clenched teeth as the priest pushed inside. The stretch burned, but there was pleasure threaded through the pain, a forbidden sweetness that made his head swim. He couldn’t help the way his body instinctively tried to pull away, but the priest held him firmly in place.
“Stay still,” the priest growled. “You wanted this. You asked for this. Now take it.”
Coyle whimpered, his fingers scrabbling against the wall as the priest began to move. Each thrust was measured, controlled, driving deeper with a precision that left the other man gasping. The priest’s hips snapped forward, forcing Coyle to arch into the wall, his body bending to accommodate the rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small space.
It wasn’t just the physical sensation that overwhelmed him—it was the knowledge of where they were, what they were doing. This holy place, once a sanctuary, had become something else entirely. A den of sin. A corruption of faith. And yet, Coyle couldn’t bring himself to care. His thoughts were consumed by the man behind him, by the way Father Easterman filled him completely, claiming him in a way that felt almost sacred.
The priest’s hand moved from his back to grasp his hip, nails digging into flesh hard enough to leave marks. Coyle cried out, the pain sharp and delicious, and Father Easterman chuckled.
“Do you feel it?” he whispered. “Do you understand now? This isn’t about absolution. This is about submission.”
Coyle nodded frantically, unable to form words. His body was alive with sensation, every nerve alight as Father Easterman drove into him with increasing intensity. The pace became erratic, less calculated, and Coyle realized with a jolt that the priest was losing control. That steadfast composure was cracking, breaking apart beneath the weight of their shared desire.
“F-father—” he stammered, the honorific slipping out unbidden.
Father Easterman’s response was a growl, deep and guttural, as he leaned over Coyle’s back, his chest pressing against the other man’s shoulders. His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust punctuated by a grunt of effort. Coyle’s knees threatened to buckle, but the priest held him upright, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
“Say my name,” Father Easterman demanded, his voice rough with need.
Coyle hesitated, his mind foggy with pleasure. “H-Hendrick-“ he finally gasped, the name foreign on his tongue. It felt wrong, blasphemous, to address the priest so familiarly at this moment. But the way Father Easterman groaned in response sent a thrill through him.
“Again,” the priest urged, his thrusts becoming almost punishing.
“Hendrick! F-Fffuck!!” Coyle cried out, louder than he meant to. The walls of the confessional seemed to close in around them, amplifying every sound. He could feel the heat building low in his stomach, coiling tighter with each movement. His own cock strained against his abdomen, neglected but throbbing with want.
Father Easterman’s hand slid around to grip him, cold fingers wrapping around his aching hardness. The touch was electric, overwhelming, and Coyle let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking forward instinctively.
“Not yet,” the priest warned, tightening his hold. “You don’t get to cum until I allow it.”
Coyle whined, desperate and pleading, but Father Easterman only laughed—a low, wicked sound that sent shivers down his spine. The priest’s thrusts slowed, drawing out the sensation until Coyle thought he might go mad. Every inch of him was on fire, every nerve screaming for release, but his body wouldn’t disobey.
Father Easterman’s breathing grew ragged, his movements losing their rhythm as he chased his own pleasure. Coyle could feel the moment he teetered on the edge, the way his body stiffened and his grip tightened almost painfully. With a final, forceful thrust, the priest came undone, burying himself deep as he spilled inside. Coyle wasn’t far behind him, panting the wall of the confessional with his spend.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their labored breathing, harsh and uneven in the confined space. Then Father Easterman pulled out slowly, and Coyle sagged against the wall, trembling and overstimulated.
The priest straightened, his hands smoothing over Coyle’s back in a gesture that felt almost tender. His lips brushed against the shell of Coyle’s ear as he whispered, “You did well.”
Coyle turned his head, catching a glimpse of priest’s face. The mask of piety was gone, replaced by something darker, hungrier. It sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, despite his exhaustion.
Father Easterman stepped back, redressing with practiced ease, while Coyle remained where he was, too weak to move. When the priest finally spoke again, his voice was calm, almost detached.
“I’ll see you next Sunday~”
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fel-09 · 1 day ago
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General Acacius x Isekai! Reader x emperor Geta
Words 1.4к
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Version on wadpad wattpad
Get into the movie?What a joke Part 4
The tepid wind blew leisurely, playing with your hair as if it had its own intentions. Along with the wind, rose petals took to the air, their scent so overpowering it almost suffocated with its richness. Your eyes lifted to the sky uncertainly as your fingers nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your skirt. The situation was awkward—palpable, almost tangible, as if the tension could be tasted on your tongue. It was so overwhelming that you wanted to dissolve into the intoxicating floral scent, to vanish into its thick embrace.
At the same time, General Acacius stood nearby, his gaze fixed on the vast floral field before him. He hadn’t anticipated finding himself in such a situation—with you. Yet, one thing brought him solace: as in the first time you met, there were no prying eyes. This moment was his, unobserved, and for once, he could afford honesty.
He exhaled through clenched teeth, then turned to face you. His gaze caught on your profile, and he swallowed hard. Something about this image clung to his mind—a fleeting impression of someone else, with different features and a distinct nature. It was so ephemeral, so intangible, yet it lingered. Acacius shook his head, brushing the thought aside. He had come here for another reason, and he couldn’t allow his mind to wander.
Acacius extended his hand toward you, taking one of yours and gently running his fingers over your palm. There was a reverence in his touch—more genuine than before, more deliberate. Pressing his lips together, he took a step closer, the space between you narrowing. The air seemed to shout its disapproval, heavy with the weight of something unspoken, but he began to speak regardless.
“I must offer my apologies for… that incident,” he said, his voice low and steady. “When you fell into the water, I failed to take proper care of you. For that, I am ashamed. Please, forgive me.”
Your eyes widened in surprise as you blinked, caught off guard by his tone and the intensity of his words. Embarrassed, you averted your gaze. It wasn’t every day that a man with the appearance of one of your favorite actors apologized so intimately.
“It’s quite all right, Gener—” You stopped mid-sentence as he raised an eyebrow, clearly recalling the last time he had asked you to call him by his name. “Acacius. Just Acacius… I think it’s all right. You’ve done enough; you saved my life when no one else even lifted a finger to help me. For that, I’m profoundly grateful.”
Acacius looked at you as if seeing something entirely new. Your timid demeanor was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. It was uncharacteristic of Plavtiana—so much so that it startled him. You were aware of her reputation as headstrong, yet the exact nuances of her behavior eluded you. The historical accounts provided no personal details, only glimpses of her actions and their impact on the economy.
But there was one phrase in the chronicles, a line well-known among historians who studied her life:
“When Acacius was led into the arena, the bloodthirsty crowd suddenly fell silent. In the shadow of her box, Plavtiana sat motionless, like a statue. She made not a single gesture, yet everyone knew it was her hand that directed the general’s fate. Gladiators surrounded Acacius but delivered no blow. Instead, they slowly stripped him of his regalia—his helmet, his cloak, his breastplate. ‘Not a word,’ whispered Plavtiana, her lips barely moving, but fear reflected on every face. Her gaze spoke of power—not by law, but by the name of her father, so formidable that no one dared even whisper of her involvement. When the last sign of Acacius’s honor fell into the dust, she raised a cup of wine and smiled, a silent toast that seemed to say: ‘See, but see nothing.’”
No one understood the depth of her actions, why her treatment of Acacius was so cruel. Rumors swirled endlessly: some claimed she had loved him, only to be rejected; others said she was a deceitful woman who treated everyone with equal malice. Yet, with her father’s connections, she had no need for such enmity. Then… what was the reason?
You shuddered as Acacius’s voice pulled you back to the present.
“Still,” he continued, his tone quieter now, “I believe I’ve caused more trouble than I’ve resolved. The rumors still circulate throughout the city.” His head bowed slightly, a rare display of humility.
He was stunning—a man so striking that just looking at him made your heart race. In your eyes, he was nearly divine.
“As I’ve said before, everything is fine, Acacius,” you reassured him. “There’s no need to worry. Rumors come and go every week; soon enough, this will all be forgotten.”
But the rumors didn’t fade. They grew, each one building upon the last. People pieced together stories, seeking logic where there was none. For the days to come—and perhaps many more—no one intended to let this matter rest.
“In any case,” you said, breaking the tension, “I must take my leave. There’s much to do, so please excuse me.” You turned and began to walk away, exhaling deeply as you stepped onto the garden path. Behind you, Acacius watched your retreating figure, his gaze colder now.
He suspected much. A person like you wouldn’t have changed so easily—not without cause. If rumors had truly begun about you, you would have fought desperately to quash them, especially if they involved the two of you.
His eyes followed you, but he did not say goodbye.
_________
Several days had passed, and you remained confined within the walls of your home, painstakingly forwarding documents through messengers, avoiding any public appearances. For the fifth week in a row, you had refrained from engaging in imperial financial matters—a task you detested as much as the whispers that accompanied your name.
You sighed heavily, letting the weight of it all sink in. How had it come to this? When the letter arrived, its wax seal bearing the imperial insignia, your hands trembled.
The parchment was stern, the words sharp and unforgiving, their intent clear.
"To Flavinia Plavtia, presently occupying the position of Imperial Financial Overseer,
By the will of the Senate and the People of Rome, we hereby notify you that your conduct raises questions incompatible with the welfare of the Empire. In light of the circumstances, you are commanded to return to your post within seven days of receiving this letter.
Failure to comply will be interpreted as a resignation of your duties, resulting in immediate dismissal and subsequent investigation. The Emperor reminds you that service to Rome is the greatest honor, but also the greatest responsibility. Neglecting it is an affront not only to the Senate and the people but also to the gods who safeguard our order.
Signed by the decree of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla."
Between the harshly worded lines, the message was unmistakable: You have one more day before we discard you without remorse.
Your grip tightened around the parchment as you reread it, searching for some hidden mercy that wasn’t there.
"I have to go back," you muttered under your breath, clutching your head in frustration. The letter slipped from your trembling fingers, fluttering to the floor like a fallen leaf.
The walls of your home, once a sanctuary, now seemed suffocating. You stared down at the letter, its presence on the cold tiles taunting you with its finality.
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islandrafe · 22 hours ago
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thinking about stepbro!rafe hiding his erection from you. also, shy, stepbro!rafe x stepsis reader rafe gets hard around you but he doesn't want you to see that. you're watching tv together, not sitting too close but you notice him shifting on the couch, placing a pillow over his lap. he's been eyeing you all night. he clears his throat, trying to act casual, but there's a brief hesitation before he shifts his weight, turning slightly away from you. you look at him and smile "what is it, rafey?" you call him by his nickname.
the tension in the air is palpable, but rafe’s doing everything in his power to hide it, though the faint flush on his neck betrays him. You can’t help but smirk inwardly at the whole situation. he’s usually so confident, but right now, he’s clearly flustered, trying to play it cool but not quite succeeding.
"i gotta go to the bathroom, y/n" he says, getting up and turning away from you quickly.
you get up behind him. "you okay?"
"no, no, i'm fine, y/n" he insists.
you grab his wrist and turn him around only to see his evident bulge. he turns bright red and runs his free hand over his shaved head. he's stressed and you can tell.
"it happens, rafey, i get it" you assume him. but you don't know you're the cause. not yet anyway.
"it's not that... uh..." he takes a deep breath and then whispers out "it's you. you're the cause of this" he smiles lightly and your heart flutters.
"but we... we can't, you're my stepbrother" you let out, confused.
"that's exactly it; we aren't blood related" he hisses out, hoping nobody else in the home hears you two.
you think for a minute and you lighten up. you lead him by the hand up to his room and he smirks. he knows you have something good in store.
"rafe, you are so mother fucking hot, it blows my mind every day" you confess to him and he shuts the door, locking it behind him as he starts kissing you deeply.
"clearly i feel the same way" he mutters out through the kiss and you smirk. you fumble for his button on his jeans and undo it, unzipping them and he helps you by pulling them down along with his boxers. you break the kiss and kneel down to bring his dick into your mouth. he's so turned on, his pre-cum is already leaking out and he loves the way you suck it off of him.
rafe moans softly and you encourage it and continue to suck his cock, letting him push your head down onto it, him leading you now. he cums and you swallow. you come back up and smile and you both go back downstairs, innocent step siblings, watching tv.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ request ficlets anytime in my inbox i specialize in smutty rafe or john b.
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aylacavebear · 2 days ago
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A Golden Thread
A/N: I don't have chapter 35 for Soulmates done, so I wanted to give you guys something. I hope you like this one.
Your life was normal. Some would even go as far as calling it boring. The small one-bedroom trailer on the outskirts of town was nothing special either, but it was home. Five years ago, your husband had left, due to the problems between the two of you. So, you had taken it upon yourself to fix things up, make this place more yours than the ours it had been. It took you a couple of years, but you healed and, in that time, grieved the loss of your marriage and husband. Even though he was on the fence about working things out, you had to find a way to keep going, so that meant believing things were over, even though you stuck to your vows.
Dean Winchester x OCF Reader/You
Word Count: 10,669
Warnings: Fluff, Angst (a little), Your World Getting Flipped Upside Down. Pretty sure that's all.
----------------------------------------- It was near autumn, the leaves already changing colors with the season. The oranges, yellows, and reds painted a beautiful landscape behind your home. The greens that mixed into it all made you smile on the mornings you’d sip your coffee from the couch, enjoying the quiet. Sometimes, you’d spend the day working on your home. Others would be spent working outside.
Then, there were days like today when the storms moved through. The sky was already dark with clouds. It still looked like early morning even though it was almost ten. Today, you’d relax with your favorite show, hot coffee, and in your pajamas. The weather channel had advised everyone to stay indoors if they could, as the storm would be a bad one by noon.
What you weren’t expecting was the power to go out only a half hour later as thunder cracked so loudly you had your covering your ears. Cautiously, you went to the window to look outside. It hadn’t even started raining yet. So far, just a lot of noise and a light show that danced along the dark clouds outside.
Grabbing your phone, you checked the weather. They were still calling for hail and heavy rain, possibly flooding. With a groan, you tossed your phone on the couch after turning it off. You would have found something on your phone to do but didn’t want to kill the battery just in case the power didn’t come back on. 
So, you began perusing the bookshelf in your living room, reading over the familiar titles of books you’d read several times already. Nothing really sparked your interest as a frown found your lips. “Great. Now I’m bored out of my mind,” you grumbled as you went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. You looked out the kitchen window, bringing the cup to your lips as lightning stuck near the forest, barely missing a tree as an almost deafening crack of thunder shook the walls. “Jesus,” you breathed as the hairs on your body stood on end.
The ground had sparked where it had hit, but there was still a faint glow of something you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. You barely got your cup set down on the counter, your hands on the edge of the sink, trying to get as close to the window as you could when another crack of thunder startled you. Holding your chest as you attempted to catch your breath, you glanced out the window with a frown. “Stupid thunder,” you grumbled under your breath. 
Thinking quickly, you threw on your shoes, then slung your jacket over your shoulders, and out the back door you went. The wind had looked like it was blowing hard, but being in it, you had to hold your coat closed as it whipped your hair about, tangling it in knots. Shoulda put it up first. That didn’t deter you, but seeing how far away the glow was, you debated going back inside to wait out the storm.
Nah, I’ll be fine. Your curiosity won over reasoning, quickly. It was your downfall, your curiosity. With a new sense of determination after glancing up at the looming storm, you pressed on, your boots crunching over the brush below your feet. 
You swore the sky got a shade darker as you approached the glowing thing. Which to you looked like nothing more than a slightly thick golden thread. It had a golden glow to it, which illuminated the nearby area, but it didn’t really glow that brightly. “Weird,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked around it, trying to figure out what the hell it was. 
You grabbed a nearby branch off the ground with the intent of poking it, much like one would poke something to figure it out. However, it was like the end of the stick disappeared into it. Puzzled, you walked so that you could also see the back of it, and sure as shit, the part you poked it with, disappeared.
“What the fuck?” you breathed, tilting your head.
Now, any normal person probably would have chosen to use an object like a phone or a video recorder to see what was inside this thing. Not you. Nope. You decided to stick your head through it. The sounds of the storm faded away completely. On the other side of this strange golden thread thing was a beautiful old-style library. Your eyes widened as you looked through the large archway that led to another area, where you noticed a table and a staircase leading to a second floor. Well, that was what it looked like anyway.
Even in the silence of this strange place, you were able to pick up faint sounds of electricity and air through a ventilation system. You debated just going all the way through until you felt cold, wet drops making it through your pajama pants. Shit, the storm. And with that, you pulled your head out of the, well, whatever the hell it was.
The cold rain pelted your face the moment you straightened up. There was no time to think with as bad as the storm had gotten, running quickly back to your home as the wind and rain berated your body. Once you were inside, you shed your jacket, which was nearly soaked, then your shoes. “That was stupid,” you muttered on your way to your room for a dry pair of clothes and to brush out your sopping wet, tangled hair.
For the rest of the day, the storm raged on while you watched out the window in your living room. The power came back on around noon, but you didn’t go back to your show. Instead, you went to your laptop, trying to search out anything that would be remotely close to what you had found. The golden thread and the place inside it. 
There were a few times you wondered about what could pass through the thread. The stick you had held went through just fine. Your head had gone through fine as well. But when you had felt the water on your legs, you hadn’t noticed any of that on the floor on the other side of the thread. There wasn’t even a breeze or harsh wind like what had been pelting your back.
The cracks of thunder, the thudding of hail, or how the wind seemed to shake the walls while the rain pounded on your roof didn’t distract you from your task. Website after website you searched while drinking coffee. That was more for the warmth than the caffeine. 
“Nothing,” you mutter, sometime after nightfall, closing your laptop. You leaned back in your chair, feeling utterly defeated. Looking things up online and finding precisely what you were looking for had been a talent of yours for years. But this thing, whatever it was, was something the internet apparently had no knowledge of. 
After doing some cleanup and then setting up the coffee pot for the following day, you turned off lights as you made your way to your room for the night. You looked out the window one last time at the glowing thread. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” and with that, you headed to bed, hoping the sleep would help with a fresh start in the morning.
—-------------------------
The storm had passed, leaving quite a mess of branches and leaves all over the place. Doing yardwork wasn’t an issue for you. You liked being outside, but today, you were distracted by other things. It was only after seven, and you were already dressed, on your second cup of coffee, and packing a bag. 
The yard can wait.
It was a repetitive thought as you double-checked the items as you added them to your bag. Most of it was clothes, a few simple toiletries, and then a few items you didn’t want to accidentally leave behind. Having no clue what the thread led to or how long it might take you to get back home, you wanted to be prepared for anything.
Your laptop and charging cord were the last items you put into your bag before zipping it closed. With your phone in one pocket and your wallet in the other, you slipped on your favorite flannel, then your jacket. There were several smaller items in your jacket pockets that you thought might be handy, like a small flashlight, a lighter, a pocket knife, a lock-picking kit you’d had for years and were quite adept at using, and some snacks.
For a few moments, you stood there in your living room, glancing around at your home. Well, if I never come back, it’s not like there’s anyone who would miss me. You did decide to write out a quick note, just in case someone did come looking for you and you hadn’t made it home again, for whatever reason. 
With a smile on your face, determination coursing through you, and anxiety trying to tighten around your chest, you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed outside. One way or another, I’m gonna figure out what the hell that is and what the place on the other side is.
The storm had left quite a mess, but your focus was on the golden thread near the forest. Birds were doing their morning thing, as were the bugs, all of them flitting about as you continued walking. There were still clouds in the sky, but these were puffier, the light of morning dancing off of them beautifully as they slowly rolled across the sky. At least there won’t be rain today.
Your heart sped up the closer you got to the thread while your mind wandered to all the different possibilities. There were no windows. Perhaps it’s something underground, like a basement. Whoever it belongs to loves books. Someone wealthy, perhaps? It looked expensive, well-built. You absentmindedly adjusted the strap of your bag, the weight shifting on your shoulder as you approached the odd golden thread.
For a moment, you hesitated, glancing briefly back over at your home, the life you could potentially be leaving behind if this weird thread thing decided to lock you in that place on the other side. But, when you truly took the time to think about it, you weren’t leaving anything or anyone important behind.
Your job barely paid the bills and got you through each month. You had a husband who seemed happier now that the two of you were apart. Then there was your family, whom you hadn’t spoken to in more years than you could count. You didn’t have any children, and your home itself was falling apart.
“Fuck it,” you muttered as you stepped through the golden thread and into that weird, underground, windowless building.
The building, whatever it was, was temperature controlled, that much you could tell. The golden thread didn’t disappear, which helped the worry dissipate, at least for that. Now was the task of figuring out what this place was.
You spent a good hour attempting to explore this place, and you had barely managed to scratch the surface with as big as it was. There were all sorts of different rooms, all labeled. That staircase had led to another floor, sort of. It was the entrance, which you didn’t bother with for now. You didn’t want to accidentally get locked outside and away from the only thing that could get you home.
It had everything from a gun range to an infirmary and everything in between. The theme, you noticed, was from the forties or fifties. All that was down a maze of hallways off what you had deemed the map table room. It looked like an electronic version of the game Risk, which you found slightly amusing. Down the other side had been rooms, lots of them. What piqued your curiosity was that two of those rooms looked to be in current use. You looked at the things you felt comfortable looking at. The first one you had found looked well decorated, lived in, loved. There were weapons hanging on the walls, a few pictures on the desk of a mother and her son, then a family photo of four. There were so many little things you wanted to look through but didn’t want to intrude on someone’s privacy like that.
The other room didn’t look quite so lived it. It was more… barren compared to the first. There were things in there, just far less. Most of the other rooms looked unused. There were a few you questioned that could be used for guests with how they looked, but you didn’t want to make assumptions at the moment.
With a sigh, you set your bag on the floor next to one of the chairs in the library, then went over to the bookshelves. There has to be something here. You wanted answers, needed answers. What is that golden thread? What is this place? Why did it show up in my backyard? That and more kept playing on repeat in your head as you scanned the titles, looking for anything that might give you a clue.
—-------------------
The table in front of you was covered in books, another open directly before you, but none of them had the answers you had been seeking. The stuff in them reminded you of folklore or history, even of things in monster movies. You glanced down at your phone, then groaned. It had been four hours, and you weren’t any closer to solving this bizarre mystery.
Halfway through cleaning up, the sound of male voices pulled you from your task. You weren’t entirely sure which emotion was going to win out -curiosity or caution- as you stared at the opening of the library. Quickly glancing over at your bag, the mess on the table, then the golden thread, you made a quick decision.
You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and stood near the golden thread. This way, if whoever it was that was heading in your direction was dangerous, you could attempt to make a quick getaway to your home. Or, at least, hide in the forest.
“I’m telling you, that spell didn’t work,” a frustrated deep male voice stated.
“And I’m telling you did. We just have to figure out where that portal opened up,” another male voice stated, not quite as deep.
“I’ll make some calls,” a slightly older male voice sighed just as the three made their way into what you had called the map table room. The moment they turned in your direction, they froze, for a split second before the shorter of the three pulled a gun and aimed it at you.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
You put your hands up quickly, not wanting to chance a bullet following you through the thread and hitting you if you tried to run. They all eyed you cautiously, just as you did them. “I’m Y/N. I came through that thread thing. It showed up in my backyard,” you explained, praying he wouldn’t shoot you.
Sam smacked his brother on the front of his shoulder, “Found the portal,” he practically chuckled. “Bet she’s the one we were looking for.”
“How the hell is she gonna help?” Dean stated, not lowering his gun, not wanting to believe.
Bobby just sighed, setting his hand over Dean’s gun. “Put it away. She’s harmless, and you’re just scaring her. Why don’t we try to get to the bottom of this before you make it worse, for her.”
For a moment, all you could do was stare at them, puzzled and curious. It didn’t help that the one in the middle, the shorter of the three, was fairly attractive. When he put his gun away, you lowered your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to find out what that thread was and what this place was.” You explained but had stayed near the thread.
“Have a seat, kid. We’ll explain what we know,” Bobby told you, taking a seat at one of the library tables, followed by the other two.
You sat near the thread. It was more of a ‘just in case’ for you. Plus, it made you feel a little safer. Although, you weren’t sure it really would have made a difference. The two younger ones looked like they could probably catch you if you attempted to make a run for it. They introduced themselves, then began explaining things.
“That thing you keep calling a thread is called a portal. It leads to a different dimension, yours,” Bobby explained, making you tilt your head slightly.
Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he clasped his hands together. “We needed help with the current problem we’re facing. There was a spell that would help us locate said help. At first, we thought it would show us a location on a map, but after doing some more research, we learned that if what we sought wasn’t in our dimension, it would open a portal to the world where said help was.”
Dean was just leaning back in his seat, sipping a glass of whiskey, watching you. It was hard to read his expression, but it was clear to you that his mind was working things out. The upside, you were hot, and he was having a hard time focusing on how you could possibly be the help they needed. Well, the help he needed. 
“So, what kind of help do you need, and with what?” you asked, trying not to sound as curious as you were. This was far more interesting than your life in your world. That thought alone, your world, almost made you chuckle. It felt like you were in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
The three of them looked at each other, and you quickly took note of their silent conversation. Interesting, you thought to yourself, just watching them. Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure as to how to tell you. Bobby just got what you called his thinking face. Then there was Dean, who was staring at you intently.
His jaw was slightly clenched, his hand around his glass as it sat on the table. He looked relaxed, but there was tension in his shoulders, concern hidden in his gaze. “What do you know about the supernatural?” he asked, his tone tight.
“In your world, nothing. In mine, ghosts have been caught on film. Some say that angels are real, but I’ve never seen one. They say the same thing about demons, but I’ve never seen one of those, either. I’m a skeptic. I won’t say something doesn’t exist. However, I can’t say it does unless I have some sort of proof,” you explained, choosing to be honest with them since they didn’t seem like they meant you any harm.
If it hadn’t been for the books you’d read earlier, you might have thought the whole monster thing was crazy. They spent a good hour giving you the rundown on the supernatural in their world, and you swore you really were in some episode of the Twilight Zone. They were clearly serious about it all, and you had no reason not to believe them. Then, you furrowed your brow, confused. “So, what is in my world that will help you with whatever it is you need help with?” 
Again, there was silence, and again, the three of them shared a silent conversation. It was mildly frustration that they wouldn’t just tell you what they needed. That was when a man appeared behind the three, out of the blue, wearing a light brown trench coat.
“So, did the portal work?” he asked, hopeful.
Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Cas. The portal worked.” He sighed, gesturing to you near the end of the table.
Cas looked over at you. At first, he had a completely neutral expression, then a smile slowly spread to his lips as his entire expression brightened. “Wonderful. I’ll get the binding rings,” he stated happily before Dean grabbed his arm to stop him.
“We never got to that part,” he grumbled.
You deadpanned and crossed your arms. “Will one of you tell me what you need from my world and why?” Your tone was demanding, but at least it came out as you intended, even if you didn’t understand what this Cas person was.
Without skipping a beat, Cas answered you. “You’re here to save Dean’s life. His soul is in danger of being taken to Hell due to a curse put on him by a witch. Crowley can’t even stop it. The only way to save him was to find his soulmate and then use the binding rings to break the curse. He only has a couple of days left before the curse completes itself.”
The information had you stunned, and for a few moments, all you could do was blink blankly at the four of them. You weren’t sure how long the silence had stretched before you walked over, snagged the bottle of whiskey, took a decent swig, and then returned to your chair. Dean just raised an eyebrow, finding you a little more interesting than he initially had.
“Okay. Care to explain that to me in a way I’d understand it a little better? Like, what’s a soulmate? How could that even be since I’m from a different world? What all is entailed with the binding ring thing you mentioned?” you asked, rattling off the questions that were off the top of your head.
Dean watched you sip his bottle of whiskey, finding it interesting how you hadn’t even flinched from the burn of the initial drink. He also couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You were interesting, and that was putting it mildly. Perhaps being bound to you might not be so bad after all. 
Before Cas could say a word, Bobby leaned forward, “Soulmates are common here. Everyone has one. They just don’t always find each other, for various reasons. We have a feeling that the witch who cursed Dean knew that his soulmate wasn’t in our world. That’s why he got the curse instead of Sam.” 
“Occasionally, soulmates are in different worlds. It’s rare, but it happens. It just depends on what the soul has chosen for its current existence,” Cas added, still smiling happily at you.
“In your world, do you have anything like Twin Flames or something like a deep connection to someone? Kind of like, that person feels like your other half? You two just, get along really well, like you’re meant for each other?” Sam asked, hopeful that might help.
“Yeah, there are things like that in my world,” you replied, choosing not to think about your husband, who you thought you had that with, but it had clearly been one-sided. Then, the three of them just sort of stared at you, like they were expecting you to say something else. “What?” you asked, not sure what they wanted.
Cas furrowed his brow, slowly walking closer to you while the other three just stared. “Do I have something on my face?” you asked, utterly puzzled. What you were unaware of was that the portal behind you was slowly closing, and as it did so, your form of this world was taking over. You weren’t changing much. “How interesting…” Cas murmured the closer he got as your eyes followed his movements. “I thought your kind was extinct.”
“My what?” you asked, trying not to get frustrated or worried.
Catching movement out of the corner of your eye, you looked over at Sam, who was pointing toward your head. You reached up, but slowed your movements to nearly freezing when you felt them. They were soft, furry, and there was one on either side of your head. They even twitched when your fingers bruised the sensitive hairs near the edge.
“I have cat ears?!” you exclaimed, your gaze going up, wanting to see them, even though you knew you couldn’t.
“And a tail,” Cas added, intrigued. 
Your head snapped around, looking behind you. And sure enough, swaying slightly as the tip flicked in annoyance was a slightly fluffy cat tail in a shade of fur that matched your hair color. Dean couldn’t stop the smirk that found his lips. He had a thing for anime, and your appearance was nearly a dream come true.
As you stood up, turning a bit more so you could see your tail better, you realized you were far more flexible than you had ever been in your life. That was about the time you noticed that the portal was gone. With a sigh, you plopped back down in your seat. “Will one of you please just give it to me straight,” you sighed, your gaze on the space of table before you. Then, you took another long swig of the whiskey.
Cas was now standing next to you, completely curious and intrigued by you. “You’re a Touched. From the looks of it, of Bastet. I don’t know what abilities you possess, but I know the base of it is that you are like a cat.” As he explained, he walked to the other side of you, still staring at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Will that affect the binding spell?” Sam asked, now worried a bit that his brother might still be in danger.
“No. No. She is definitely his soulmate. So, the binding spell won’t be affected at all by what she is.” he answered as you took another drink of whiskey.
“So, I’m basically a cat person,” you mumbled as your eyes fell to the wedding ring on your finger as the gold glinted briefly in the light. Should have left that behind, too.
Bobby had stayed quiet, watching you, trying to gauge what was going through your head. “Cas, Sam, let’s leave these two alone for a bit. Dean still has a couple days. She has the right to say no,” he told them as he stood, gave you a friendly nod just as you looked up, and headed toward the kitchen.
Sam gave his brother a reassuring smile, as well as a squeeze of his shoulder, before following Bobby. Cas just poofed and was gone. You just grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took another drink while Dean watched you, unable to look over at him. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure what to feel, let alone think. To top it off, you were some sort of cat person now in a world that wasn’t yours, and as far as you knew, you couldn’t go home.
Dean caught the glint of light off your ring when you took another drink, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Without saying a word, he got up, closed the distance between the two of you, and grabbed your wrist. It wasn’t hard or anything. It just surprised the hell out of you.
“You’re married?” he asked, far gruffer than he had wanted to. All of a sudden, this whole thing felt wrong. He wasn’t about to take you from someone who loved you. His soulmate was taken, and that almost made him feel sick.
You yanked your wrist from his grip, taking another drink of the whiskey. “Doesn’t matter, since I can’t go back anyway,” you grumbled, more at his behavior than his question.
He sighed and sat next to you, taking the whiskey bottle which pulled your attention. That was when you saw his expression soften as you frowned, your ears drooping. “I’m sorry,” he began, far gentler than he had been. “I didn’t mean to take you from your home, from…” he sighed, gesturing to your ring. “I’m not worth leaving that.”
That was when you realized what he was getting at and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from deep in your chest. Dean just looked at you, having no clue what you found so funny. It did take you almost a minute to catch your breath, your ears no longer droopy in any way. You were still chuckling as you slipped the ring off your finger. “This? The man that gave it to me doesn’t love me or want me. He left me five years ago but refused to send the divorce papers, choosing to string me along for a while and then not talk to me for weeks or months on end,” you explained, feeling an odd sense of peace wash over you now that the ring was off your finger.
“I… I had no idea…” he trailed off, letting his gaze fall to the bottle in his hand as it rested on the table. 
“You could of just asked,” you replied, a little softer this time. He looked like he was struggling with a lot, and you didn’t want to pry. “I don’t have anything to go back to. No friends. No family that mattered. A home that was falling apart and a dead-end job that barely got me through each month,” you chuckled a little at the end, looking up at him while setting the ring on the table.
There were so many things he wanted to ask you, but every time he allowed himself to look into your eyes, all he managed to do was get lost in them. He wanted to hold you close, tell you that he’d never treat you like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to make words. What could he tell you that might make any of this easier? “You can say no,” he practically whispered. “And, I’d find a way to send you back, if you wanted that.”
It was your turn to furrow your brow, wondering if he had even been listening. “I have nothing worth going back to.��� Then you looked away from him, wondering if perhaps it was you and your current appearance. “I’d understand, if you didn’t want me either,” you mumbled, taking the whiskey bottle from him and taking another drink.
Dean frowned as he looked at you. “That’s not what I said,” he grumbled, “...and drinking won’t help.” He added, taking the bottle from you, again. He let out a frustrated sigh, but it wasn’t at you. “Look. I’ve never had a real relationship. I tried once, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out. Being a hunter… Well, it makes that sort of thing… complicated.”
You looked up at him, meeting his emerald-green eyes while your ears and tail twitched in curiosity. “Fair,” you began, then thought for a moment, wondering if you could get him to talk to you on a deeper sort of level. “What does this whole binding spell entail, and what will it do? Why don’t we get the complicated things out of the way first? If your friend says we’re soulmates, then maybe we can figure this out, and maybe, just maybe… we’ll both find something with each other that we thought we never would.” You knew it was a long shot. You barely knew anything about this man, and he knew even less about you.
He didn’t even realize that a smile was toying with his lips. You were sweet while also to the point, and you seemed to be a caring person. He just wasn’t sure he could give you what he felt you deserved. And so far, you seemed like the kind of person that deserved that fairy tale sort of love.
“The binding spell would bind your soul to this dimension and our souls together the rest of the way. The way Cas explained it was that because you’re from a different dimension, we won’t feel what soulmates feel when they meet each other. It’ll be way diluted,” he explained, trying to keep it simple while being direct. Dean wasn’t about to admit how he was loving the way your ears twitched as you listened.
“It’s really simple. We put the herbs the spell calls for, then a couple drops of our blood in a bowl. Cas holds the rings over the bowl, tosses in a match, recites the spell, then we put the rings on each other. It’s kinda like marriage but not completely,” Dean chuckled, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t completely scare you off. Hell, he had almost dismissed even looking for you when they found this solution.
Well, I guess it could be worse, you thought to yourself as he spoke, not even realizing how easy it seemed to be able to relax around him. You took a few moments to think it over while also taking in his features. He seemed like a decent person. He wasn’t pushing you to do this against your will, and it was clear he had people who cared about him. 
Then there were his looks. Typically, you didn’t go for looks, as they could be deceiving. He was more than handsome, and those green eyes of his held an intensity that captivated you. Dean had the kind of attractiveness that reminded you of a movie star or model. Typically, someone you figured wouldn’t look twice at you. 
“You’d really be okay, stuck with me?” you asked, this time being a little more serious.
Dean’s expression instantly softened, although he also couldn’t believe you’d ask that sort of thing. “I could list all sorts of reasons I’m okay being stuck with you, and I only met you a couple hours ago,” he smirked.
Charming and a flirt, and he clearly knows it. “Like?” you asked, trying to think past the thoughts his smirk made play out in your mind.
He tilted his head, but only slightly. Plenty of things ran through his head, most of them starting with your ears and tail, but he pushed those aside. “To start, you don’t freak out easily. You traveled through a portal, having no clue where it would take you, and there was a high chance you would never get home. That takes guts, determination, and confidence in your ability to survive in a strange place,” he began, being completely serious with you now. 
“Then there’s the fact that you didn’t just run back through the portal when three guys show up and start talking to you about soulmates and all that. You also didn’t freak out when Cas just appeared and disappeared,” he chuckled, as he had found your ability to keep calm and process information both admirable and attractive.
Dean smiled a little, watching your ears twitch with interest while your tail swayed lazily behind you. “You’re curious. I like that. So far, you’re sweet too. You want all the details so you can make an informed decision. That tells me you’re intelligent and think logically. That’s attractive to me,” he winked, and you were having a hard time not blushing. Not even your husband had said things like this to you. Well, at least not in a while.
“Just the fact that you’re considering helping a complete stranger in this regard is a quality that’s rare in people,” he continued as a soft, almost gentle smile teased his lips. “You care about others. There’s a gentleness in your eyes that I don’t often see, and I’ve met a lot of people over the years. You’re beautiful, both inside and out.”
That was when you felt the warmth in your cheeks as the blush depended. If he was trying to sweep you off your feet with only words, he was doing a damn good job of it. You caught movement out of the corner of your eye. His hand had twitched like he wanted to do something, and he caught how your eyes had darted to the movement and then back to his eyes.
“Then, there’s the ears and tail,” he added with a teasing tone and a smirk to match. “Those are every anime lover’s dream right there.”
You ducked your head a little, blushing deeply at that point, and you knew that if you went through with this spell, life with him was going to be very interesting. “You’re cute when you blush,” he whispered, and you hadn’t even noticed that he had leaned a little closer to you.
It was his scent that made your breath hitch. Now that you had gained the senses of a cat, you could smell things that you couldn’t before. Since he had moved closer to you, you’d been trying to ignore it the best you could. However, when he had leaned even closer, it was like it had surrounded you.
You took a shaky breath, attempting to steady your nerves again. “And you’re a flirt,” you teased back, finally meeting his gaze. Then, you had to try not to get lost in his eyes.
Dean chuckled, “There’s another one. You’re playful. I like that too.” You deadpanned playfully, unable to keep a completely straight face. He was getting to you, and he knew it. “But in all seriousness,” he began, finally reaching up and cupping your cheek. “...in the little time I’ve been around you, I like you, and not just your physical beauty. I like who you are.”
This man is seriously going to be the death of me. The way he gently rubbed his thumb on your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes, and how your heart skipped a beat while the butterflies danced in your stomach made you feel like a teenager again. Your husband hadn’t brought those feelings out in you in a long time.
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to think, but before you could manage to get a word out, he pulled back, giving you some space. Briefly, you wondered if perhaps he felt more of a pull toward you than you did with him. “Why don’t we get to know each other better?” he suggested, taking a sip of his whiskey, relaxing into his chair.
The two of you spent the next several hours in the library, lost in a world that was just the two of you. You told him about your life back in your dimension, some of your favorite foods, music, your boring job, and how much you loved baking but hadn’t done it very much since it was just you. Dean was quite interested in the fact that you could bake, but he tried not to interrupt you, no matter how many questions went through his head. He did make a mental note of the things the two of you had in common.
He shared with you his life on the road, the monsters he’d had to face and take down, how many times he had died and come back, and his Baby, which you thought was a person until he explained it was his car. Dean even promised to take you for a drive, several if you’d let him. The way you listened kept his eyes on you. You had genuine interest in who he was, beyond the hunter he had been.
“So, did you two want to have dinner with us, or should I just get a couple candles?” Sam teased as he made his way up the couple of steps into the library.
You jumped a little and blushed while Dean just chuckled, taking one more look at you before his brother. “What’s dinner? Please tell me it isn’t more rabbit food,” Dean groaned teasingly. He’d never admit that there were times he didn’t mind eating something healthy.
Sam just gave him a bitch face, and you burst into laughter. I think I’m gonna like it here, you thought to yourself. “Well, everyone knows cats are carnivores. So, no rabbit food for me,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone, getting in on the playfulness. Sam’s expression never changed.
“Great. Now I have to put up with two of you,” he grumbled, almost glaring at Dean when the two of you erupted in laughter. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he truly hoped you would say yes and stay there. He hadn’t seen his brother this relaxed in a while.
After managing to catch your breath, you finally looked back up at Sam. “I’m okay with rabbit, I mean, healthy food. Just don’t make me only eat healthy food, please,” you told him, a little softer as a smile began toying with his lips.
“Oh, she is so a keeper,” Sam chuckled. “Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes,” he added before heading back into the kitchen, still chuckling slightly.
When you looked back at Dean, all those teenager feelings washed over you. I’m a grown-ass woman. I shouldn’t be feeling like a damned teenager. It was how he was looking at you. It wasn’t quite desire, but it wasn’t quite longing. It wasn’t quite anything specific, and that was the frustrating part. It really was a little bit of everything all rolled into one.
Whether Dean would admit it or not, he knew it was over for him. You had his heart. That both terrified and puzzled him. Well, sort of. He figured he was destined to be alone. Over the years, he had met a lot of people and not once had he come across his soulmate. So, he figured he just didn’t have one. Plus, being a hunter, he wasn’t exactly guaranteed a long life. 
The moment his eyes had landed on you in the library, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but also like, for the first time in his life, he could truly take a deep breath. It wasn’t your physical beauty, although, to him, you had looked like an angel. He hadn’t been able to find words, so he had stayed quiet. Then, when the two of you did start talking, he found his mind wandering to things he had given up years ago.
Then you got mouthy in a playful way with his brother, like you had been friends for years, and those three little words nearly slipped out when you looked at him again. God, I am in so much trouble, he thought to himself, swallowing hard and taking a shaky breath. “He still didn’t tell us what dinner was,” Dean chuckled, trying to find the confidence he typically had tons of around women, but around you, it seemed to falter.
You chuckled with him. “Then I’m gonna guess it’s rabbit food for dinner.” Dean glanced toward the kitchen, then back at you as a mischievous smile teased his lips. “Come on,” he said quickly, taking your hand in his as he stood, already moving toward the archway of the library.
Your lips parted as you let him lead you somewhere, but you weren’t looking where. Your eyes were on him. He looked how you felt, like a giddy teenager and it made you smile. Dean led you down a hallway, then another, through a door, and down a spiral staircase. His hand was warm around yours, and you didn’t want to let go, but when you saw his Baby, you did.
He watched as you took in the car, gently running your hand over her hood. “She’s beautiful,” you whispered, a soft smile toying with your lips as you made your way to the passenger side where Dean was. With his heart hammering in his chest, he opened the door for you, closed it once you were seated comfortably, and jogged over to the driver’s side. Sam’s gonna kill me. He had that boyish grin on his lips as he started the engine, glancing at you just in time to see you smile, your hand resting on the dash. I hope she decides to stay. He took a deep breath before pulling out of the garage as AC/DC Thunderstruck played in the background. You rested your arm on the open window, then looked over at Dean, smiling at his antics. “So, where are we going?” you asked, enjoying his spontaneity. 
“For real food,” he smirked, pressing down on the gas as he got to the road, the purr of the engine easing the tension in his shoulders. 
You watched him as he drove, totally forgetting about your ears at the moment and how other people might react to them. Dean looked relaxed behind the wheel, like he belonged there. Or perhaps it was a place where he could just be himself. No one around to put on a front for. It wasn’t until the wind from the open window kept hitting the sensitive hairs near your ear, making it twitch, that you remembered them.
“Umm… what about my ears and my tail?” you asked, frowning a little that he’d probably just take you back to the bunker now.
He glanced over at you, then back at the road while he considered that. “Well, I’ve got a bandana we could cover your ears with. It’s in the glove box. I can hit the drive-through, and we can eat somewhere else. I’ve got the perfect spot,” he answered as his smile only grew.
Upon opening the glove box, you found the bandana and a slew of other things. It looked slightly new, but it had clearly been used for wiping greasy hands on. Dean pulled over and put the Impala in park, then shifted so he was slightly facing you. Without giving you a chance, he playfully plucked the bandana out of your hands, then draped it over your head as you met his gaze. 
He gently tied it under your chin, carefully flattening your ears, not wanting to hurt you. “I’m okay,” you told him, watching his expression as he watched your ears beneath the bandana. 
After he adjusted it a little, he leaned back and looked at you, a smile finding his lips again, “Perfect.”
Dean got the two of you back on the road while you shifted so that your tail was against the door instead of on the other side of you. This way, if someone looked in his window, they wouldn’t see your tail. It was a comfortable day, but your gaze was on Dean as he drove, the small town shops passing by unnoticed by you. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, being bound to him. So, that was what you thought about, how life might be, with him. Dean, on the other hand, was thinking about you in ways he’d given up so long ago. Could he dare to dream again?
After Dean ordered the two of you burgers and fries, he drove to a little clearing in the forest near the bunker and parked. There was a skip in his step as he went over and opened your door, holding his hand out and helping you out. “Wait right here,” he told you, feeling giddy and nervous simultaneously, mostly because you could still say no. 
His excitement was infectious, bringing a playful chuckle out of you as you watched him. Dean grabbed a blanket out of the trunk of the Impala, then the food before setting it up like a sunset picnic in the woods. You couldn’t see the horizon to watch the sun set, but the sky above the clearing changed with beautiful shades of oranges, reds, and yellows the further down the sun got. 
By the time the stars came out, you and Dean had finished eating, sitting across from each other and talking about whatever topic came up. That was about when Dean realized you were still wearing the bandana over your ears. He slid closer to you, less than a foot away, as he carefully undid the tie under your chin. Slowly, he slipped the bandana off your ears, watching in the moonlight as they straightened out, twitching slightly with the sounds of the forest around the two of you.
You had nearly gotten lost in his eyes with as close as he’d gotten. There were so many emotions swimming in those emerald orbs that it took your breath away. When he didn’t pull away immediately, your lips parted slightly while your tail flopped lazily behind you.
If it wasn’t for Dean’s phone going off, again, he probably would have kissed you. You saw what you thought might be frustration as he tended to his phone.
“I’m fine. She’s fine. God, we’re not even that far away,” he grumbled, sitting up a little straighter with the phone to his ear.
A quiet giggle slipped out as you watched him. It was intriguing to you that you could also hear the person on the other end of the line.
“What are you two doing? And don’t say sex, Dean,” Cas stated bluntly, to which Dean groaned.
“I took her out for real food, alright? We’ll be back in a bit,” Dean sighed, not wanting to get into it over the phone. He knew Cas knew about how he was with women, but you were different. You weren’t just some hookup to take his mind off his everyday life.
“Has she said yes yet?” Cas asked, sounding hopeful.
Another sigh left Dean’s lips, “No. I’m not gonna push her either,” he answered sternly.
His friends really care about him, you thought to yourself, just watching him as he spoke on the phone. The two went back and forth for a bit longer before he hung up the phone, slumping forward a little with his phone in his hand in his lap. He hadn’t even noticed that you had scooted a little closer.
“You’d rather let this curse kill you than feel like you forced me into this, wouldn’t you?” you asked quietly, the softness of your voice nearly pulling his gaze to yours.
For several long moments, he was quiet, not quite sure how to say what was going through his head. “My life, it’s not easy. I could die on any case I go on, and that isn’t fair to you. If you go through with the binding process, and I end up dying, the pain you’ll feel will be worse because we’re soulmates,” he explained quietly. Dean never was one who was good with words, but he was trying.
You tilted your head a bit and watched him again. “Then my answer is yes,” you told him softly.
His head snapped up, staring at you as the emotions flooded his system, unable to latch onto any single one. “Why?” was about the only word he could manage to get out.
A small smile found your lips. “You’re a good man with a good heart,” you replied softly, and the tenderness in your eyes nearly took his breath away. 
It took everything in him not to just kiss you, but a smirk slowly found his lips. “You’re amazing,” he breathed out, trying to catch his breath and keep his body in check.
You giggled as a light blush made its way to your cheeks. “And you’re adorable.” He had to hold himself back, but you didn’t miss the tiny movement he restrained. You absentmindedly licked your lips, the movement catching his eyes for a brief second.
Dean took a shaky breath, forcing his mind to focus on anything other than you: your lips, the way your ears twitched, the sparkle in your eyes, and how close you had gotten. “We should, uh… head back,” he muttered, feeling like a teenager again. 
An almost disappointed feeling settled into your stomach. “Alright,” you replied, not sure what had happened or why he was pulling away. To you, it seemed like an amazing moment for a first kiss, but you weren’t going to push for it.
The two of you cleaned up in an awkward silence, which followed you on the drive back to the bunker. Both of you lost in your own thoughts of how the evening had gone. He was pulling into the bunker’s garage before you knew it. Again, he opened your door for you, and as the two of you walked into the room with the map table, your hand brushed against his. 
Before either of you could even process how it had felt, Sam and Cas were standing there. You could practically feel the worry that seemed to be coming off them in waves. “Um, is there a room or place I can sleep tonight?” you asked, trying to find a topic that wasn’t about the binding spell, even though you’d said yes.
Sam glanced at Dean, another one of those silent conversations that you mentally told yourself you’d figure out. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” Sam replied, gesturing toward the hallway behind you.
As you walked away with Sam, Cas looked back at Dean. “Well?” he asked, both curious and slightly impatient.
“Well, what?” Dean played stupid, trying to sort through what being around you did to him. He wasn’t used to having to control himself this much or having all those emotions at the surface. Typically, he kept them buried, dealing with them alone.
Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, this is serious.”
Dean couldn’t help it nor control the smile that began taking over his lips again at just the thought of you. “She said yes,” he finally admitted, and there was hope in his eyes again and a giddiness in his tone.
Cas’s smile went to his eyes. “I’ll get everything ready.”
—---------------
“So, how’d it go?” Sam asked, finding the silence a little awkward as he walked you down the hallway toward the rooms.
“It went really good. Dean seems like a good guy,” you replied, still mulling over how different he was from in the library to when the two of you were having dinner together.
He glanced down at you, finding the height different kind of adorable. “He is. He just doesn’t always know how to let people in. So, if he tries to push you away or seems distant, it’s because of that,” Sam explained gently.
A small smile tugged at your lips as his hesitance earlier finally made sense. “Thanks. That helps. So, should I give him space or try to comfort him when he does that?” you asked, looking up at him as both of you stopped in the hallway.
For a moment he looked down at you as he processed what your words meant. “You said yes, didn’t you?” he asked, unable to hide his joy, for multiple reasons.
You giggled, “Yeah. How could I say no? I mean, he seems genuine. Plus, he’s hot,” you replied, adding the last part not only to lighten the mood but because it was true.
Sam laughed playfully, “Then you’ll probably be sharing Dean’s room.”
That made you blush and look away. You hadn’t considered that part yet, mainly because you weren’t sure what would happen after the binding spell. Not completely, anyway. “Oh,” you replied sheepishly.
He chuckled a bit more before he put his arm over your shoulders, leading you back out to the war room. “Come on. He’s probably out there smiling like an idiot while Cas is setting things up.”
The blush in your cheeks only deepened, but inside, you felt giddy, like a teenager about to talk to her crush. “He likes you, you know. You’re not just some random girl to him. I could tell when I asked you two about dinner. Then, when he took off like he did with you,” he laughed quietly. “I’ve never seen him this smitten before.”
His words warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t express. “Honestly, I’m a little smitten with him too,” you admitted shyly.
That brought a relieved smile to his lips. This could have gone so differently had things gone bad. Not only was he not going to lose his brother, but in a way, he was gaining a sister, you. 
—----------------------
Sam hadn’t been wrong. Dean was leaning against the library table where Cas was attempting to focus on the spell while talking to Dean. Dean, however, had his arms crossed with a goofy smile adorning his face, lost in his thoughts.
“Dean, this would go faster if you would help,” Cas told him, slightly frustrated as he placed another amount of another herb into the bowl.
“Sorry. Just thinking about getting to kiss her,” he replied dreamily.
Cas rolled his eyes, “That’s at the end.”
The smile on Dean’s face only got bigger, “I know,” he sighed just as dreamily.
“What’s this about a kiss?” you asked, your tone a little teasing as you and Sam entered the library, instantly pulling Dean from his daydream.
He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying to compose himself. “Um, we have to uh… kiss, after Cas does the spell,” Dean answered, trying desperately not to sound nervous or too eager.
Sam went to help Cas, barely keeping his amusement in check at his brother’s behavior while you went over and stood in front of Dean. You didn’t miss how he took a shaky breath when your eyes met his. For a brief moment, you wondered if, to him, it was like he was marrying you, but you didn’t want to ask.
“Are you nervous about kissing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but your tone was playful, drawing a larger smile from him.
“No,” he replied, trying to sound confident as the butterflies danced to a rave in his stomach. Dean was having a hard time not giving in to the feelings of pulling you into his arms just to be that much closer to you. He wasn’t entirely sure how much stronger it would get after Cas did the spell.
You smiled up at him, “Good. I’d hate for my soulmate to be nervous of something like that.” 
The playfulness of your tone had Dean biting his bottom lip, instantly drawing your attention to the movement. You absentmindedly licked your own, and you swore you heard a faint groan slip from Dean. 
“Are you two just gonna stare at each other, or are you ready?” Sam asked, trying not to let his amusement get the better of him. 
When you turned away, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What do I need to do?” you asked, tilting your head, just a bit.
Cas directed you to stand near the bowl of herbs, Dean next to you. Each of you held out your left hand near the bowl. “I have to make a cut on your hand when it’s time,” Cas explained gently.
“Dean told me earlier. It’s okay,” you replied with a reassuring smile.
Dean was in utter awe of you. In less than a day, your entire world had quite literally changed, and now, you were about to open up a connection to someone you had just met. Yeah, the two of you had talked and gotten to know each other a little, and he’d told you the things he liked about you, but there were no words that he could find that truly conveyed his admiration of you.
You were watching Cas, listening to the Latin words as he spoke them, wishing you could understand what the words meant. Dean, though, was watching you, completely lost in everything that was you. The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts was the blade across his palm, a hiss leaving his lips.
“You could have warned me,” he grumbled, making Sam chuckle.
“I did. You weren’t paying attention,” Cas stated plainly before cutting your hand. Both of you tilted your hands, balling them into fists as your blood dripped down into the bowl. Sam wrapped your hand in a bandana, then Dean’s, as Cas continued with the spell. You watched as Cas lit a match, picked up the binding rings, and tossed the match into the bowl.
As the smoke danced through the air, Cas moved the binding rings through the smoke, saying a few more words in Latin before he turned to the two of you. He then handed one ring to each of you. So far, you didn’t feel any different when you took one of the rings from Cas.
It looked like a simple ring made of some sort of metal. You just weren’t entirely sure what, but you didn’t have long to contemplate its material as Dean held his right hand out to you. He had said it was only like marriage. With a small, soft smile, you slipped the ring on his ring finger, noticing how he let out a shaky breath.
Then, he took your right hand in his, trying to prepare himself for what was to come as he slid the ring on your ring finger. His hands only trembled slightly, but he held yours as his eyes slowly lifted to your face. Your ears were twitching as your tail swayed almost happily behind you. He barely heard the last few lines of the spell as Cas spoke them before there was silence, and you tilted your head. “Dean?��� Cas asked, a little confused as to why he hadn’t kissed you yet. “I’m done with the spell.”
Sam chuckled as you smiled a little, but Dean couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You reached up and cupped his cheek, then stood on your tiptoes since he was a bit taller than you. For a moment, you searched his expression for anything that might show hesitation. When you found none, you placed your lips on his and closed your eyes.
It was enough to pull Dean into the moment, one of his hands moving to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he moved his lips against yours. That was when you felt it move through you, a warmth that was different than anything you’d felt before. Neither of you even noticed that Cas and Sam were already cleaning up, too lost in the moment with each other.
Your body instinctively moved to be closer to him, and he didn’t shy away. You were his now, and he was going to spend every day showing you just how much you meant to him. When he did finally pull away, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath. As your eyes met his, a smile found your lips, but it began tugging into a playful smirk. “So, since I saved your life, looks like you owe me one,” you teased playfully, a small chuckle slipping out.
Dean had completely forgotten about having been cursed, so the look of surprise that found his expression was genuine, but Sam chuckled in the background. “Yup, she’ll fit in just fine,” Sam teased his brother, making him roll his eyes.
Then, Dean’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You’ll only get to hold that over my head for so long,” he replied in a low, gruff teasing that sent a tantalizing shiver down your spine.
“We’ll see,” you quipped but squealed in surprise when he picked you up bridal style, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to hold on. A deep laugh erupted from him as he began carrying you toward the hallway.
“I like your smartmouth, too. Let’s see what else it’s capable of,” he told you in a teasing whisper.
Your heart sped up as your breathing hitched, but you licked your lips as all sorts of thoughts began playing through your mind. As you watched him while he carried you to his room, a smile found your lips, and you realized quickly that you would never leave him. That somehow, the two of you would be able to get through anything life in this world threw at the two of you. It brought a sense of peace to you that you’d never had before, and you relaxed against his chest, letting out a content sigh. 
No matter how hard things get, I’m not going anywhere.
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l1v1ngd3dgrrl · 18 hours ago
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Bestie pls hear me out 😩😩 your work on ao3 is mind blowing AMAZING! If you are taking requests can you write like a Daisuke/reader fic where they’ve been trying to sleep together (secret relationship type deal) but they’ve been getting cockblocked by every member of the crew until they finally get time of their own with pent up feelings
AN: I audibly gasped when i read this request, anon your miiiiiind. Fuck yeah let's do it! Also thank you for enjoying my work aaaaaaaaa, it makes me so giddy when i get comments like that! thank you for your patience <3
Alone Together [Daisuke x Reader]
word count: 2,503
Cw(s):getting cockblocked/sexual tension, Daisuke gets a little rough here and doesn't pull out, usage of babe/my girl, soft dom Daisuke(?), Shitty attempt at dirty talk again because ya ghoul cannot write it well at all. Leg locking?
Continuing my contributions to the Freaksuke agenda <- that is a joke, please don't get mad at me. I may have gotten a lil too carried away with this one (sweats)
MDNI banner: Cafekitsune.
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Having a secret relationship wasn't something you ever imagined yourself doing. Especially with one of your co-workers. You've worked at Pony Express for about 3 years now, and never really found yourself drooling over anyone in your crew. (Okay there was that ONE time you thought Curly was really hot but that's over and done with.) It was unprofessional and would make things awkward.
That sentiment flew out of the window when you met the newest member joining you for this Haul, Daisuke was the new 22 year old intern working with Swansea. Unsurprisingly Swansea made it very clear from day one that he wasn't thrilled with it, which did affect him negatively causing him to be pretty shy when talking with the rest of the crew. Over time he warmed up to everyone, eagerness similar to a a cartoon protagonist at times but in the most endearing way.
Now this little (at the time) one-sided crush didn't happen all at once, It was about a month into your haul when you noticed that you'd get butterflies in your stomach whenever you heard him talk, laugh or do literally anything. He could breathe and you would just stare at him like he hung the moon. It was an interesting display on your part, hopefully he didn't catch you staring and think you were weird.
By the third month he let it slip that he thought you were attractive. The exact way he confessed it was a little hard to remember but it was in the dorkiest way possible-lots of fumbling of words and finger guns. Ever since then you two begun dating in secret.
The hardest part about all of this was trying to get more intimate. There were only a certain amount of places you two could do it with the lowest risk of getting caught. No place was truly 100% risk free, which became increasingly obvious when you kept getting cockblocked by everyone.
First it was Anya, as sweet as she is you slightly resent her for scaring the living hell out of you when she needed Daisuke for his psyche eval. She didn't see anything, and it's not like you two were actually fucking but you were pretty close to doing so. The sudden knocking on the door killed the mood and startled both of you.
"Another time, I promise." Is what he whispered before placing a kiss on your lips.
The second incident was when you paid a visit to Daisuke in the utility room, completely innocent at first. You had to run a binder to him. When Swansea grunted out that he was going on break and to not linger too long and distract him that's when the tension in the air boiled over. Alas, much like last time you two didn't get very far and had to scramble to get yourselves decent before Swansea could barge in and lecture the both of you.
"Next time we won't get interrupted?" he awkwardly said, not fully convinced in his own words.
The third time the two of you were giggling and placing heated kisses on each others skin, on your way to your sleeping quarters. Clothes were discarded on the floor and hands were wandering over bare skin, maybe this time was finally the time you didn't get interrupted.
The sound of a very grouchy Jimmy banging on your door for you to "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep." caused you to audibly groan in frustration. "Fine-Fine!, Just go away!"
Daisuke looked as if he was about to cry.
And of course the breaking point for the both of you was when your captain of all people almost caught you. Frustration was starting to eat both of you whole.
It was one night when everyone had gone to bed earlier than usual did Daisuke pull you into his sleeping quarters, kissing your skin feverishly and panting like a dog. "I can't hold off much longer please," he whined. "I don't even care if we get caught or whatever." You agreed wholeheartedly.
It's been nearly a whole month since the two of you had sex. yikes. You were probably more worked up than he is.
"We should at least move the desk in front of the door-as a precaution y'know?" you murmured. Daisuke nodded eagerly and rushed over to move the piece of furniture in front of the door.
It wasn't the heaviest thing in the world, but it often took you a bit to move it by yourself. Daisuke on the other hand was moving it with ease as if it weighed nothing. Hot.
After the desk was moved he turned to you and began pulling his shirt over his head, careful to avoid snagging it on his earrings.
This was your cue to do the same, you gripped the hem of your shirt and began to peel it over your head. In the split second that your vision was blocked by the fabric Daisuke had taken it upon himself to drop to his knees and start placing kisses down your now exposed abdomen. You giggled, the feeling of the kisses tickled and felt odd.
Once your shirt was fully off he stood back up and kissed you again, walking you towards your bed. Your knees hit the side of the mattress and both of you dropped backwards. He moved his knees on either side of your hips, as he sat back on his haunches eyeing you over wordlessly. "You're so hot." he blurted out. You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss. "I know."
Both of you didn't know where to start, there was an awkward pause as you both sat in silence thinking about what you wanted the most. You took the lead and reached over to his pants, palm instantly going over and rubbing him through his jeans. His hips jerk forward briefly and he groans, eyes rolling back.
It's dark, but you can feel the pre starting to seep into the fabric beneath your palm. Warm and slightly sticky. You bite your lip and wrap your hand around the bulge and proceed to jerk him the best you can through the denim. His breathing is starting to get heavier, huffing and groaning as he clutches the blanket underneath the both of you.
"I want more-fuck I need more." he says, heavy with want. You give him a firm squeeze before bringing your hand up to unbutton his jeans. With Shakey hands he helps you, happy to finally ease this tension. His pants hit the floor with a quiet plop and he's left in his boxers, the front of them wet with his arousal. "Lay back on the bed." You command gently, he obliges wordlessly.
This time you're the one on top, your knees spread on either side of his legs and kissing down his abdomen like he had done to you minutes prior, stopping once you reach his boxers. His breath hitches and you tug the fabric down. His erection springs free and he winces slightly at the temperature change.
You take him into your palm, thumb spreading the pre down his shaft as lubrication and pump him a few times. On the bed Daisuke grips the blanket and lets his jaw fall slack. You lean foreword and take him into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head.
He keens and sits up ever so slightly, propping himself on his elbows. He likes the way your cheeks hollow around him, the feeling of your tongue as it spirals around the tip and then down this length. Before things could go too far he stops you, and you let out a disapproving whine.
"You deserve some action too." he says, his thumb coming up to wipe away some saliva on your lip. "I mean yeah, But I was having fun." He rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss.
"Let me take care of you for a bit."
"ugh fine." you playfully groan. You stand up and drop your bottoms, much to Daisuke's surprise you weren't wearing underwear. "Nice." he grins and you lightly smack him on the shoulder.
He has you lay down beside him, legs spread and his hand trailing up your thighs. His fingers trace up your slit and he grins, "Wow you're like really wet right now."
"Can you blame me?" you ask, drawing in a shaky breath as rubs small circles on your clit.
"I can't," he presses wet kisses to your neck. "And I won't." His fingers begin to work inside you now, curling as he moves. You let out a low moan and spread your legs just a bit further.
He continues, relishing in the soft gasps and moans he draws out of you. Once he hits that one specific spot that makes you cry out he smirks and focuses on it, fingers pumping in and out of you faster. You're moans get a little too loud and he gently covers your mouth with his palm.
"I love hearing you, but I think I would actually die if we get interrupted again." He pulls his palm away and replaces it with his lips, groaning as you whine into the kiss.
His movements continue, and as you draw closer to your boiling point his movements cease. He pulls his fingers from you and pulls away from the kiss. Now it's your turn to protest, you were almost there!
Before you can even say anything Daisuke is moving to where he's hovering over you, elbows pressed into the stiff mattress. "Did you want it this way babe, or did you have another position in mind?"
"Lemme ride."
"You got it."
He trades places with you, laying on his back yet again and caressing your hips as you line up with his cock. You sink down on him slowly, biting your lips to suppress a moan. Daisuke has no intentions of quieting himself. "Hoh fuck-" He sucks in a sharp breath once he was fully sheathed inside you.
He holds onto your hips with an almost bruising grip, careful not to hurt you. You begin to rise and fall into his lap, skin meeting skin with a 'plap' sound. Quiet moans and gasps pour past your lips as you continue to ride him, the long over due feeling of feeling full is almost too intense.
Beneath you Daisuke is slack jawed, eyes darting between your face and where the two of you meet. Despite the obvious pleasure he's experiencing it's obvious that he's wanting more, clearly holding back something.
You lean down and graze the shell of his ear with your lips, the feeling of your breath so close sends a shiver down his spine and goosebumps to form on his skin.
"You don't have to hold back." You whisper, You sit back up to look at his face. His eyes widen. "Wait what?"
"Don't hold back, You're super tense right now."
He swallows thickly and his hands squeeze tighter on your hips. "I would but like-" he pauses and bites his lip. "I don't wanna hurt you."
You snort and roll your eyes. "If I didn't think I could handle it I wouldn't have asked." For a moment he just stares blankly, the cogs in his brain turning.
"Meaning..?"
"Meaning I want you to give it to me," You grasp his jaw lightly in one hand and tilt his head up to look directly at you. "Hard."
In an instant his demeanor does a 180 and a wicked grin stretches across his face. "Say less."
His feet press into the mattress and he begins thrusting up, pace brutal. You yelp and grip the sheet below you. "Daisuke!" He merely chuckles and continues, his hands pulling you down to meet his thrusts.
This side of him is something you thought you would never see. Not that you thought he was 'weak' or submissive or anything, he just didn't seem like the type. Though when you're constantly being cockblocked by your crewmates emotions get bottled up quick.
Your eyes roll back as he continues thrusting, jaw falling slack and letting any and all noises flow freely. Somehow it felt like he was deeper, his cock hit new spots in you and you thought you were gonna see stars. The room is filled with the bed creaking and the sound of your bodies slapping together, there's no way that the others didn't hear you.
Suddenly he pauses, gasping for breath below you.
"Tapping out?" You ask snapping out of your daze. "Not yet, Might need to change positions though." He eases you backwards, hovering over you as your back hits the mattress for a second time. He lines himself back up with your pussy and pushes in.
Instinctively your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer. His hips draw back and he resumes thrusting, your body bounces with each push and pull. Over the various noises you hear him mumble praises out to you, how good you feel and how well you're taking him. You moan his name unabashedly, head falling backwards and eyes squinting shut. Without a doubt you were going to be sore tomorrow, the ache starting to set in now. You didn't care, it felt amazing.
"That's my girl." he pants, his hands gripping the sheets beside your head and thrusting even harder. "I can't last much longer, Where do you want it?"
Wordlessly you tighten your legs around his waist and lock eyes with him. He swears and nods. "There? you got it babe." With a few more sloppy thrusts he's spilling inside of you.
He stays buried as he catches his breath, his hand coming up to trace your jawline. "God, You're beautiful."
"You too." He leans down brushing his lips against yours and pressing a few slow deep kisses against them. After he pulls away you point to the nightstand next to you. "I should have some tissues in the drawer."
He looks down to where both of you meet and snorts. "Oh whoops, yeah almost forgot about that." He slides out of you, and you feel his cum start to ooze out. He opens the drawer and pulls out the tissues you mentioned, grabbing a handful and cleaning you up first. It won't get all of it, but it'll clean you up enough.
Once the clean up part is over he climbs back into bed with you, pulling you close. "I uh- wasn't too rough with you right?" he asks, brown doe eyes searching your face eagerly. "You weren't too rough I promise," You brush hair away from his face and smile. "I kinda liked it." His face flushes and he smiles awkwardly "I'm glad you did, not sure if I'd be able to do that all the time though."
"We could always hold off for another few months." you tease. "Please don't." he adds on quickly, "I think I would literally explode." You snort and kiss him. "I'm kidding!"
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radiofreesanjak · 3 days ago
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Normally I try to speak about something that comes to mind once per day, a small commentary on the ways to the new era. But today the sun is warm, the wind is cool, and the birds sing proudly in the trees above the studio.
I'll instead take a moment today to tell you a story:
I was born in the mines, but I was one of the last people to remember childhood there. It's been a while since Sanjak has become free, and since then I have had the great joy to see children born and raised who have no knowledge of our time underground.
This is a source of great joy, but it is also a rift. They will come to me and they will ask me questions of what it was like when I was their age and I will tell them: I grew up in the mines. Things were different there.
They, too, learn history. They ask questions of the nobility that reveal a lack of understanding for the concept. The hierarchy of blood is foreign to them. To explain it is always an interesting trial with myself: I would deny none who seek knowledge the ability to find it, but to explain them faithfully is a trial against myself. (The noble would say they do not view themselves as better, merely suited for different things. But when the things they are suited to deserve luxury, and the things we are suited to are for the dirt, how is that not an assignment of value? This is not a nuance children foreign to the concept typically understand.)
Teaching the children of the mines is always a process. We tell them of the place we lived for so long, what it was like, the floods, the isolation, the denial of basic sunlight. One year, a group of children took it upon themselves to learn this trial by experience, and I remember holding a young child as they sobbed into my arms telling me of the horrors of the dark. "I know of this, dear." I said. "This is what we fought to save you from."
I do not blame them the curiosity but it is odd to feel such a combination of relief and horror. The children do not know of the mines, and this is the future we fought so hard to see. Because the children do not know but see the way it weighs on us, they sometimes take an empathetic leap in order to understand us better, and in the pain they experience at seeing a fraction of what we had to endure, I find myself drawn to tears about what was taken from me.
There many things to take away from this, I suppose. The first we did was to make it harder for them to access the old mineshafts. The rest I find myself thinking on on days like these, when the sun is warm and mild and the wind blows softly and the old horrors seem a distant nightmare.
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anemicjellyfish · 3 days ago
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Tags from my awesome mutual:
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Okay, you're not wrong at all. In fact, this is the only thing that was blowing a hole in my speculation about the whole "chest feathers" thing. I almost didn't include the picture of Stella's friends because they both show feathers and I didn't want to dive into them initially because my thoughts were too much effort to tap onto my phone screen.
But! I have another theory about the one on the left of the group, along with an excuse for the one on the right. (This is just headcanon at this point tbh. And I should really be going to bed but I'm gonna keep going because I have no common sense. I hope you don't mind me using a reblog to go a bit more in-depth on my silly ideas.) (Also, I just wanna say that I don't mean any of this in an argumentative way. It's just that I finally found an excuse to sit down and go crazy with talking about characters, birds, and outfits. I could be entirely wrong about everything idk)
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Unfortunately, we don't have their names, titles, or much indication of what type of birds they're intended to resemble. My guess for Mr Guy here is that he's a snowy owl. The eyes are a very similar shade of yellow to snowy owl's natural color eyes. And his head/hair feathers being solid white with a speckled breast match up to a snowy owl as well. These are literally the only birds that I personally know of to have primarily white coloration with a speckled breast/rest of body (I'm not a bird expert, and I'm happy to be proven wrong on this point- I actually wouldn't mind learning about more bird species).
But there's something about his chest feathers that makes me think there's a clothing layer there. I think it could possibly be some kind of cravat (Google says a modern term in an Ascot, but idk, I just like period pieces and know it as a cravat).
Because the pattern so closely resembles the one on Stolas' mantle that he wears for his more official "uniform."
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But the feathers on Mr Guy On The Left are clearly visible? And I'm not saying they 100% are not visible feathers exposed to us. If I'm proven wrong in the future, that's cool.
I am gonna say, hear me out on this. because he wouldn't be the first character to have visible hair popping up from underneath clothing.
It's speculated (although I'm not sure if it's confirmed) that the black parts of Loona's legs are actually socks. Her fur sticks through in some places, but we see in Seeing Stars that she is wearing some kind of pants/leggings that don't have tufts of fur sticking out. And ripped parts of the pants/leggings reveal the same color underneath as the rest of her fur. Although, it's hard to say for sure. I'm so far behind on things because it's hard to keep up with all the sources of info when they're spread out across platforms.
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Mr Guy On The Left also has some feather-like protrusions on his elbow, despite clearly wearing a jacket.
It's getting really late and I'm exhausted, so I'm leaving Guy On The Left Reasoning at that and hoping it makes sense. (When I wake up in the morning and see my stupid posts... yikes.)
As for Lady On the Right?
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I think it's just a revealing dress. Her arms are exposed since the dress appears to be a halter-top situation. (I could be mistaken on the halter-top, but this was the only image of her that I have on hand and I don't wanna go looking for more because I'm sleepy.)
Her outfit is revealing, showing a lot of "skin" (feathers) around her chest, and is tightly fitted at the waist. For her, I think it's just a fashion choice.
My conclusion? I don't have one, actually. Until we know a little more about the rest of these bird characters, it's hard to say for sure if Stolas has sensory issues regarding his feathers, especially the ones on his chest.
Stolas and Sensory Issues
So a lot of us see traits of autism in Stolas. I've been thinking about how his wardrobe might be an indicator of it.
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Of course, this is screenshot of his latest outfit that I'm using! 😍
The latest addition to his wardrobe has a similarity to previous items: an opening for the feathers on his chest.
While I've loved the jokes about his shirt needing a "boob window," I'm thinking that this is confirming a sensory issue for Stolas in regards to his feathers.
The beloved and/or dreaded royal romper has a similar feature.
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Even in LooLoo Land, Stolas' LooLoo shirt has his chest feathers poking out.
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Something that some (but certainly not all) autistic individuals struggle with is Sensory Processing Disorder. Since I'm not an expert in this, I'll keep to a minimum discussing the actual aspects of it and reference WebMD.
Sensory processing disorder is a condition in which the brain has trouble receiving and responding to information that comes in through the senses.
Sensory processing disorder may affect one sense, like hearing, touch, or taste. Or it may affect multiple senses.
I'm thinking that clothing pressing down on his feathers may be a triggering sensory input. Similar to the way a shirt tag may be rough to the point where it is a constant irritation. Or a sweater made with infuriatingly scratchy synthetic fabric.
We've already seen Stolas' apprehension toward scrambled eggs in Sinsmas. I've been told by a few people that eggs are a common texture that they dislike.
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I don't think it's too far of a leap for Stolas, who is frequently clad in a bathrobe, to have sensory dislikes of both food and restrictive clothing.
But something else in Sinsmas really hammered this home. Stella!
We finally see Stella in anything other than her typical, full-length dress that covers most of her body.
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And she has similar, although not as lengthy, chest feathers!
Stella hasn't displayed the same autistic traits that Stolas has. She clearly has no trouble engaging in social situations and doesn't seem to perform any stimming behaviors. The restriction of clothing on her feathers may not trigger any sensory issues if she doesn't have the same sensitivities that Stolas has in regards to her feathers.
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We can't see Andrealphus' feathers just yet, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by restrictive clothing at all.
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Despite a fluffy bathrobe of his own during the "Spa Day," Andrealphus wears what appears to be a tight, long-sleeved shirt while lounging indoors in his earlier scene in Sinsmas.
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(Yes, I'm still using this screenshot, it's too good to put away forever.)
I personally am unsure if the show will ever address if Stolas is intended to be autistic. On one hand, it would be nice for it to be confirmed & canon. But I also think Helluva Boss does an excellent job at the concept of "show, don't tell." They've given us more than enough evidence to come to the conclusion ourselves.
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tonystarkfucksaround · 2 years ago
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So... something that I noticed: there’s a direct cut between these two scenes, and Erik’s hand is not where it actually landed on the second shot.
And it just striked me how close he actually was to cupping Charles’ face in that moment, or stroking his cheek, you can see it--
I don’t know if it was a deliberate decision to make Erik move his hand away so as not to make the gesture too intimate, but you know what? Either way it makes it even better. It means that Erik didn’t just hold Charles still, he grasped at him, either stroking his chest or just trying to clutch at him tighter, making sure that he was still there, still alive, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t quite dare to touch Charles’ face.
This heartbreaking scene just became a tad more heartbreaking for me, wow.
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shalom-iamcominghome · 5 months ago
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Person with no whimsy: Why are you trying to trick g-d with loopholes? 🙄🙄🙄🙄
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mulders-too-large-shirt · 7 days ago
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my favorite scully and mulder moments from s5
in episode 1, mulder sneakily enters scully's apartment. he sits in the dark in silence; as she gets undressed for bed, he says “keep going, FBI woman”, which only slightly surprises her (her face is shocked, but she doesn't yell; just asks "mulder? what are you doing? why are you sitting in my bedroom in the dark?" which is an incredibly reasonable question! he tells her that he killed a man, and she thinks he is joking, so he clarifies that he isn't)
scully waking up in the hospital bed in episode 2 to mulder by her side- she’s worried someone will see him as they just spent a good amount of time faking his death, but he smiles, grabs her hand, sits on the bed, and kisses her cheek, saying “i’m officially among the undead” (WAHHHH)
(and when she is so worried about how he will have to confess everything, including killing that guy, he does his best to prevent her from dwelling on it- “hey scully, how about those yankees?”)
how she very seriously warns him that skinner is the guy on the inside, and he’s touching her face, saying no, he’s not; mulder knows that skinner made the deal with CSM, but she doesn't know he risked his career and life to save her
and then she offers to take the fall for shooting that guy, saying “mulder, if i can’t save you, let me at least give some meaning to what’s happened to me” (tears. TEARS)
(and when her family arrives to visit her in the hospital, he says he was just leaving, giving her one last kiss on the hand before heading out)
mulder coming by her bedside again after considering taking CSM’s deal to join the dark side, but ultimately refusing: “then why’d you come here if you’d already made up your mind?” she asks, and he laughs: “because i knew you’d talk me out of it if i was making a mistake” (the total trust they have in each other......)
when mulder leaves for his big hearing, she tells him that he’ll be in her prayers (and he kisses her cheek once more, telling her to ask the “father to say a few hail mulders for me, okay?”)
(she is literally laying in bed dying, and despite him never understanding her beliefs and her having, you know, imminent death on her own doorstep, she talks to god about him. intervening with the creator on his behalf. and he, instead of being dismissive of religion like he usually is, accepts the help with a joke and a kiss on the cheek... i feel like i could write a poem on the subject and my emotions still wouldn't be fully expressed)
they’re in the car on the way to a team building seminar in episode 4, and mulder leans over to scully, asking her to please kill him now
however, she immediately realizes he's come up with a new plan to get out of the whole thing by investigating a case: “you want me to tell them that you’re not going to make it to this year’s teamwork seminar?” (he grabs her shoulders, bending over a little to meet her eye level) “yeah. you see that? we don’t need that conference. we have communication like that, unspoken. you know what i’m thinking”
scully trying to start a fire to keep him warm after his body goes into shock- she asks if he has ever thought about dying, saying she was angry while she was sick, and talking about the struggle to give suffering meaning. and then after he makes some joke to get her laughing, she picks up him, placing his head in her lap (“i don’t wanna wrestle”, he mumbles, to which she replies “get over here. i’m trying to keep you warm”)
he asks her to sing as they cuddle, so he can know that she is awake and keeping watch. and then when she indulges him, his whiny ass requests the chorus, too <3
when he wakes up he is so scared to see that she isn’t there, but she was just getting some berries LMAO
mutual roasting in episode 5; she says she thinks the townspeople are so bored and obsessed with what they see on TV that they’re imagining a monster, to which he responds “i am alarmed that you would reduce these people to a cultural stereotype”; when he is spouting frankenstein comparisons to the case, she hits him with the “mulder, i’m alarmed you would reduce this man to a literary stereotype” <- they were having a nerd off!!!
“given the power, who could resist to create life in his own image?” “we already have that ability, mulder; it’s called procreation”
and the famous black and white dancing scene to cher music <3
in episode 7, mulder offers to stay with her while emily is dying, rubbing her back as he says so. but she says she wants to do this alone, so he walks away, and she climbs into emily’s bed
and at the funeral, when scully’s mother asks her if she is ready to go, she says she will stay a little while longer and get a ride back with mulder. soon after, she asks “who are the men who would create a life whose only hope is to die?”, and he answers “i don’t know. but that you found her… and you had a chance to love her… maybe she was meant for that, too” (doing his best to find the meaning in the suffering like they talked about in episode 4, because he knows she finds it incredibly difficult... yeah. and her choosing to spend more time with him than to go home and be with her family... whew)
scully refusing to let mulder fall for pusher’s tricks in episode 8, telling him to hang up the phone before he gets sucked into his games
linda bowman uses the same ability to push her will onto others to convince mulder that scully shot herself. he sees scully, begging him to make her stop, before she shoots herself and collapses. he screams, and imagines himself cradling her head. and when the real scully is in front of him, the mind tricks make mulder think that she is linda, so scully has to try and prove it is really her (“you killed her!” “your mother is tina. your sister is samantha. modell warned you- don’t play her game”). scully has enough time to save the day by shooting linda, and by the time he realizes it really is scully standing in front of him, she gently grabs his arm, calling for an ambulance. the terror of it all. and the loyalty that can inspire such terror...
in episode 9, she tries to explain how it would be physically possible for someone to swallow pounds of dirt, and he just smiles at her; “well… you asked me for answers. those are the best ones i’ve got” <-and listen, after his endless ghost and ghoul explanations, i think your lungs to dirt ratio sounds perfectly reasonable, scully
mulder also decides to dig up a grave in that episode, while scully warns him anything he finds will not be admissible in court. isn’t that just so Them? she’s not gonna stop him, but she will make sure he knows what they can and cannot use as evidence.
“i don’t think this was an act of grave robbing, scully” “no, that’s what we were doing” <- LMAO COME ON….
(there’s also a scene at the very end where mulder is stuck in endless mud and you can see scully helping him up, which greatly warmed my heart)
episode 10’s whole dynamic while scully is on vacation and he is back at the office, but especially this exchange over the phone:
“no, i don’t think it's witchcraft, mulder, or sorcery”
“yeah, well, maybe you don’t know what you’re looking for”
“like evidence of conjury or the black arts, or shamanism, divination, wicca, or any kind of pagan or neo-pagan practice? charms, cards, familiars, bloodstones or hex sins, or any of the ritual tableaux associated with the occult, santeria, vodoun, macumba, or any high or low magic?”
“scully?” “yes?” “marry me” “i was hoping for something a little more helpful” (i watched this scene 3 times because there was SO much to adore, including how serious his face was)
she finds him trapped inside an AI torture chamber in episode 11, and pulls him out, mumbling “you’re going to be okay, i’m going to get you out of here”, dragging his limp body to safety
scully walks into their office, where mulder is sitting, at the start of episode 12: “mulder…” “DON’T. don’t even start with me”
scully describing him as “characteristically exuberant” (“hope you brought your cowboy boots! yeehaw!") as she recounts what happened, and him describing her as “less than exuberant” (“well, obviously it’s not a vampire” “why not?” “because they don’t exist?”)
when scully tells mulder not to rule out what cassandra spender has to say in episode 13, she says the words slowly and carefully, and they lock eyes as he nods, recognizing the significance of the moment in terms of her own beliefs
when scully is in the hospital after the explosion in episode 14, mulder wakes her up by running his fingers through her hair, then giving her the gentlest smile; she asks what time it is, and he laughs- but this makes her self-conscious, so he explains “i’m not laughing at you. i’m just very happy to be standing here talking to you, that’s all” (screaming. btw)
(he then raises her bed a little so they can look at each other while he explains what happened, but a nurse shoos him away, saying she needs rest; he leaves with a thumbs up despite her yelling after him)
“the truth i’ve been searching for? the truth is in you” <- man hold on. hold on, man. MAN-
scully undergoing regression hypnotherapy to remember what happened to her during the explosion. mulder is sitting on the couch next to her, looking terrified as she screams. and despite not being fully present as she recalls the horrors, she taps at his hand next to hers on the couch, wordlessly asking him to hold it. when she comes to, she’s panting, and asks if he was there the whole time. he nods
and later they hold hands in the back of a cop car as they get taken to jail <3
scully breaking into mulder’s motel room while he is undercover in episode 18; he screams at her to get out, and denies being undercover, even though skinner told her everything. she stops his yelling with a breathy “oh, mulder, what did they do to you?”, and sets his poor broken fingers as he winces
(and then she is able to recognize him on the tape of the bank heist despite being masked because of his fingers <3)
then they jointly scream in the CIA guy’s face because they realize he was testing bioweapons and killing civilians… synchronized rage looks good on them
mulder decides to go by himself to investigate the mysterious manifesto in episode 19. not even a minute after he walks out of the door from where he was questioning a witness, he calls her to ask her to look through all of the x files, searching for a specific phrase, which she finds. and then we get to hear him say “scully, at the risk of you telling me i told you so, i think it’s time for you to get down here and help me” “i told you so”, she says with a smile
later, he’s rambling about his bug conspiracy, still wearing the clothes that got all bloody from being taken hostage, and she asks if he has gotten any sleep
scully visiting mulder in the hospital after he goes off the deep end, seeing bug people everywhere, breaking into someone’s house, and attacking skinner; she slips her hand into his as he is restrained, telling him she hopes he can see through this delusion: “you have to be willing to see” “i wish it were that simple” “scully, you have to believe me. nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will. you’re my… one in five billion”
the hug at the end of episode 20 as they find the x files in ashes </3
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