#dean x cupid!reader

[sacr1ficialang3l]

Can you read my mind? (I've been watching you.) 𓆩♡𓆪

DEAN WINCHESTER X CUPID!READER

SUMMARY: Dean and Sam get a little unexpected help with a weird case. 2.3k

WARNINGS: none. first meeting. fem!reader. dean being wary of the supernatural but weak to a pretty face.

NOTES: VERY late valentine's post. I was struck with inspiration at 2 in the morning. Idk if Valentines are a thing or if i made them up but whatever. This is my first time writing for supernatural and my first time writing a fanfic in years pls be nice. Enjoy<3

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You sigh as you materialize behind the brothers, making them almost jump out of their skin. “Love all over the place.”

You ignore their flabbergasted expressions as you look around the crowded plaza. It was Valentine’s day, and the whole place was decorated with pink and red hearts, the white streamers hanging from the trees moving with the breeze as couples and groups of friends walked around.

“Who are you?” You ignore the shorter one’s question as your gaze focuses on two kids sitting on a bench.

You could feel how much they liked each other, but they sat facing opposite ways, hands on laps and eyes stuck to the ground. You sigh and swiftly move your manicured hand towards them, pink nails shining under the sunlight. You can feel the brothers’ wary eyes on you, but you simply watch as the boy on the bench suddenly gets a notification on his phone.

“I just won two tickets for the My Chem show tonight.” He announces to the girl, voice incredulous. As they both start celebrating, the boy shyly looks up and invites her to go with him. She says yes, and after a few giggles and babbled words, they get up from the bench and leave.

You can’t help the little squeak that comes out of your mouth, your pastel pink wavy hair bouncing as you give a little jump. You immediately turn to the Winchester brothers, covering your mouth with your hand

“Sorry. You would think that after so many years on the job I would get used to it.” You sigh, twirling a lock of your hair with your fingers. “But sometimes it still manages to make me all giddy.”

You turn around just to find a gun being pointed towards you, barrel pressed to your stomach as green eyes bore holes into your head. Who you assumed was Dean Winchester was glaring at you, scowling, while his brother tried to block civilians from noticing the firearm in his hand.

Who would’ve thought green could be so beautiful.

You chuckle, not intimidated at all, which only made the brothers look even more confused.

“What the fuck are you?” Dean asks, the gun digging a little deeper into your skin.

“Are you Cupid?” This time it is Sam, his eyes studying your tiny pink dress, pink hair, and pink boots. But more importantly, the little bow and arrow that hung from your back.

You give the tall guy a cheeky smile.

“You must be Sam, hm? I’ve heard you’re the smart one.” You look back at Dean, delicate hand wrapping around the gun that was still being pressed against you. “Why don’t we put this away before you hurt someone.” You keep your eyes on him as you lower the gun. He lets you, a lost look on his face as to why he is letting you.

You take a step back and smile again, all rosy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes. “To answer your question, I guess you can call me a cupid, but I’m not the Cupid.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean’s eyes roam up and down your body.

“We’ve met Cupid before.” Comes Sam’s explanation. “So, you work for him? Are you an angel?”

You hum softly, pouty lips pursing. “I don’t work for the Cupid you met, the angel. But you humans also call my boss that.” The brothers’ expressions stay equally clueless. “I work for Eros, the-”

“Greek god of love.” You send Sam a sweet smile for his right answer.

“And desire, yes!”

“So you’re a Goddess.” Dean affirms more than asks, and when you turn back to face him you are struck with his beauty once again. Both brothers were drop-dead gorgeous, but something about the sharpness in the older one’s features made you want to ask if he was in any way related to Lady Aphrodite.

“Oh, no. Gods no.” You shake your head, making the multiple silver jewelry in your ears clink. “We work for Eros. Think about us like a version of Artemis’ hunters.”

“Yeah, because that gives me so much clarity.” Dean’s voice was breathtakingly deep, it reminded you of being in Lord Ares’ presence. (Happened once, never again.)

“Gods are incredibly powerful, but they often need help from mortals to do certain deeds. Artemis’ hunters, Hecate’s priests and priestess, so on and so forth.” You explain quickly. Sam seemed to understand you perfectly, Dean still looked a bit like he wanted to shoot you. “We don’t have an official name like that, but you can call us Valentines.”

“So you, what? Go around making people fall in love?” He asks with skepticism. You sigh. Everyone always had the same wrong idea.

“We don’t make people fall in love, we simply… present them with opportunities.” You chuckle and turn to look around the plaza, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you try to look for an example. You find a blond guy who was messing around with his friends near an ice cream shop. Right behind him, a girl in roller skates was moving his way.

“See those two?” I ask the brothers, pointing towards the pair. “If I didn’t intervene, they would never cross paths. But their auras, they are compatible, and they’re both lonely.” You squint, concentrating. Aura reading wasn’t as easy as fake witches made it seem. “But if I just…” Once again, you move your hand delicately towards them.

Suddenly, Blond Boy's friend's milkshake falls to the ground. It causes Blond Boy to take several steps back, getting right in Roller Skates Girl’s way. She immediately tries to stop, but it makes her lose her balance. Blond Boy’s hands are instantly on her waist, preventing her from falling on her back. They look at each other, eyes lingering, and your job is done.

You turn to the Winchesters with a satisfied smile, your flowy skirt dancing around you as you twirl, and they just stare back at you with wide eyes.

“I can’t tell how I feel about it.” Declares Sam, making you snicker.

“If it makes you feel better, I can assure you I can only influence circumstances.” You sigh, looking back at the two lovebirds. They’re already exchanging numbers. “Whatever happens from here on out is in their hands.”

That seems to do the trick, at least for the younger brother. Dean still looked like he was going to reach for his gun anytime soon. You sigh again.

“Look, I am not here to cause trouble.” You raise your hands in surrender, bracelets sliding down your wrists. “I came to talk.”

“Why would you want to talk to us?” You start to walk down the plaza, a little skip to your step. You stop right on the edge of the plaza where you could look down at the sea, waves hitting against the asphalt in a calming manner. Both brothers share a confused look before following you.

“You two are here for a hunt, right?” You ask walking down the edge of the shoreline, go-go boots click-clacking against the cobblestone. “The deaths that have been happening? People killing people they love?”

“What do you know about it?” You turn around at Dean’s accusatory tone. His gun was back in his hand, and it makes you roll your eyes. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

Looks like there was an edge in between all that sugar-covered whimsy after all.

“You know, everyone says you are distrustful, but damn.” You tsk. Why was it always the cute ones that had the biggest attitude problems? “I wasn’t going to intervene, but when I found out that the Winchesters were in my zone, I had to do something. You two are kind of famous for wiping out any supernatural beings you come in contact with.” You continue to walk down the shoreline. When you get to a light pole, you twirl around it until you’re facing the brothers again. “Any other day, I would’ve just hidden until you finished your job, but it is Valentine’s. The boss likes us to be extra active today.”

It looked like Dean wants to retort, but Sam interrupts him. “What do you know about the case?”

Your smile fades a little, and you let go of the light pole, your shiny eyes dropping to the floor.

“You’re looking for an Anti-Valentine, or that’s what we call them.” Your cheeks blush with shame. “They’re like us, Eros’ followers, but they…”

“Turn evil?” Dean guesses sarcastically, and you nod.

“Why would they want people to kill who they love?” Asks Sam, crossing his arms. “I mean, you look like you love love.”

That makes you giggle. “It is… hard. To do this job.” You lean back into the light pole, looking out at the sea. “There’s only so many times you can make two people who are perfect for each other meet, only for them to cheat or hurt each other before you start to have doubts.” You bite your lip, doe eyes glossing with sadness.

“And that makes them turn evil?”

“Well, most Valentines have had doubts at some point in our lives. But Anti-Valentines, they start to think humans don’t deserve love. They start getting angry and hateful, and it starts to poison them.” You swallow harshly, looking down at the floor before your eyes meet Dean’s green one, and the heavy weight on your chest turns a little lighter. Huh. “Valentines can’t manipulate mortal’s emotions, but Anti-Valentines… They've learned how to blind humans with anger. I think you humans may call it a rage blackout or something.”

The brothers seem to be processing your words. Dean studies you slowly while Sam looks like he’s racking his brain for any information on Valentines. If you hadn’t been so sad, you would totally be flirting with Dean right now. Yes, Eros was the God of love, but everyone seemed to forget he was also the God of desire. You could be a hell of a vixen when you were in the mood.

“So, how do we kill it?” Asks Dean, always ready to fight. It was hot.

“That’s the problem.” You sigh for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, twirling around the light pole once again, cheeky smile returning to your face. “If I tell you how to kill them, I tell you how to kill me.”

Dean’s eyebrow raises, but his mouth twitches into a half-smirk. He looks you up and down one more time before his tongue runs over his lower lip, earning an incredulous huff from Sam.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“I’ll tell you how to find the Anti-Valentine and how to kill it, and you promise not to come for me after.”

“You got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”

𓆩♡𓆪

Dean was soaked in black blood when you appeared in front of him again.

Sam and he had just finally killed the Anti-Valentine, after being thrown against walls and dodging heart-pointed arrows for what felt like hours. Looks like those little bows aren't only for the aesthetic.

So while Sam and Dean looked a little worse for wear as they tried to catch their breath, there you were, in the middle of a filthy warehouse looking like a literal goddess. Pastel pink hair perfectly styled, shiny lips and shiny eyeshadow, your pink boots not getting dirty at all even as you walked through the dirt on the ground. The worst part was how you were pink everywhere. He wasn’t talking about only your clothes and hair. Your cheeks, your knees, your elbows. The palm of your hands and your pouty lips. Made him wonder, just how many other places were pink too.

“Nice to see you two are as good as they say.” You walk close to where the brothers are leaning against a wall. They were covered in blood and grim, slight cuts all over from when they weren’t quick enough while avoiding the Anti-Valentine’s arrows.

You stand right in front of Dean, and there is a halo of light around you. You were literally glowing. You were just so glad the Anti-Valentine had been taken care of. You would’ve done something about it before the Winchesters got into town, but Valentines couldn’t attack other Valentines, even if they were evil.

“Happy to meet your expectations, sweetheart.” Dean grunts, hand pressing to his side where there was a long gash.

You extend your hand towards him with a grin, palm up and ring-clad fingers waving. “My blade, please and thank you.”

You had given the brothers your celestial bronze dagger to use against the Anti-Valentine with the promise that they would give it back.

“What if we ever need to kill another one of these, hm?” It is impressive how Dean managed to look so hot when he was slowly bleeding out from his side. “Or another Greek creature.”

You smirk, and with a little jump you land in front of him. You lean in, biting your full lower lip and blinking up at Dean, long eyelashes fluttering. “Then I guess you’ll have to give me a call, sweetheart.”

You softly press a hand to Dean’s chest, making his breath hitch. You subtly wrap your hand around your dagger in his jacket’s pocket. When his eyes drop down to your lips, you press your hand harder against his torso. Gods, he was firm.

In less than a second, all injuries in Dean’s body were cured. Even the gash on his side. He looks up at you in surprise, and you swiftly take a step back, dagger in hand. You let out a dreamy giggle, taking a step towards Sam and pressing a finger to the tip of his nose, making a little “boop” sound and curing him instantly too.

You take another little jump back, facing both brothers as you brush your hair behind your shoulder and dangle the dagger between your slender fingers. With one last giggle, you wink at Dean.

“See you later, boys.”

You disappear in a cloud of pastel pink smoke, leaving behind a smell of caramel and red velvet cake.

And you knew you were gonna see them again. After all, you had a soft spot for pretty things.

[sunsbaby]

༝༚༝༚

ּ ֶָ֢ 𓍯𓂃 dean winchester x cupid!reader | valentines day special 18+ |

You'd met Dean when he was at his lowest, in which you pulled him up with soft gentle hands. Filling his heart with the love you normally struck within others. He was in debt to you, even if you told him it didn't matter.

"Let me take care of you, baby." He said pleading you with those eyes, his hands were glued to your hips. It was Valentine's day, and Dean wanted to show you all the love you deserved.

He already started the day showering you with chocolates and flowers, everything he found with hearts on it—you had. Now, as the sun set and the moon's light slipped past the blinds, all he wanted to do was take care of you. Just how you took care of him.

"Dean, you've done enough today, it's all perfect." You said, your hands moving to toy with his short locks. Gentle eyes looking up towards his.

His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, shushing you as his body pressed against yours. Slowly walked you towards the bed until the two of you dropped down on top of it. His hands find their way onto your thighs, pulling the flesh apart.

"Please, baby." He practically whined—Dean whining, you couldn't say no. Especially when he gave you those puppy eyes, all love-sick and sweet. So, you gave him a nod, watching as he moved between your thighs.

You hadn't been wearing shorts nor pants, seeing as the two of you stayed home all day. You didn't mind of course, wine and movies with your love was all you wanted. Dean's breath fawned on your clothed pussy, cooling the damp spot that had formed.

He nipped at the inside of your thighs, leaving little teeth marks in his wake. He sucked and gripped them tight as he got closer, hickeys littered the flesh. His fingers teased the fabric of your panties, slowly pulling them away and off of you.

As soon as they were tossed somewhere on the floor to be forgotten about, he dived in. Eating your pussy like a man starved. He lapped at your juices—pulling moans and mewls from you like nothing. He didn't falter, his grip on your thighs keeping you from closing them.

Your hands grasped onto his hair, hips bucking against his face as his nose hit your clit perfectly. Noises fell from your lips and struck his heart like one of your arrows, they fueled him on. His hips bucked against the mattress as his own groans slipped past his arousal coated lips.

A knot formed in your lower belly as your head fell back, the grip on his hair tightened drastically, now chasing your own release with no mind to how he feels. But, Dean was having the best night of his life. Tongue deep in his little cupids pretty pussy, drinking in your juices like a glass of whiskey.

"Dean!" You shouted as you came, which he obviously lapped up like a dog. He continued his attack on your clit, even as your high crashed down on you.

"There's my pretty baby." He murmured against your thigh as you came, he pulled away from your now swollen cunt. Planting a soft kiss to your soaked slit he moved back up to face you. "Y'still think I had 'done enough?'" He asked, a stupid smile etched onto his features.

He stared at your fucked out expression with such love and admiration he'd never shown to anyone else. Yet, as he lay next to you, tangled up as you slept on his chest all he could think about was how much he really did care for you and love you. Dean didn't think he could love, all he did was hurt.

You changed something inside him, in that moment Dean Winchester realized, you were just what he needed in life.

sunny yaps! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE!!(I POSTED THIS BEFORE VALENTINES 😽) heres a Dean smut for you all! AS I'VE SAID MANY TIMES I AM NOT THE BEST AND THIS ISN'T PROOF READ PLEASE DONT BEAT ME UP!! I LOVE YOU ALL 💋 KISSES!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[honeyryewhiskey]

marked by cupid • happy valentine’s day !

— smut warning ! fingering, (gentle) choking, dean likes to watch, pet names, needy cupid, eager to please dean, cupid's inexperienced 18+ ! — j's note ! wrote this at 4am straight out of a fever dream (literally bc i have the flu) anyways if it sucks i'm sorry 2.6k words

You rise onto your tiptoes, hips pressing against the sink’s edge as you angle closer to the mirror, steadying the sleek golden tube between your fingers.

It’s a careful craft, applying red lipstick. One that demands patience. One wrong move, and fixing it is near impossible. No matter how much you wipe, a pink stain always lingers, a faint reminder. At least for a little while.

Your hand moves with careful precision, the smooth crimson sweeping over the natural flush of your lips like ink on parchment. The pigment is rich, deliberate, leaving behind a bold statement with every stroke. You press your lips together, perfecting the edges, when a shift in the mirror catches your eye.

Dean stands behind you, his broad shoulders filling the small frame, arms crossed as he watches with a bemused arch of his brow. The curiosity in his gaze is subtle, but it lingers, following the slow, practiced motions of your hand.

A smile creeps up on your ruby red lips, turning just enough to meet his eyes in the reflection. With a playful wave of the little golden tube, you toss over your shoulder, “Want some?” The coy smile you wear is as daring as the color itself.

“What? No.” He waves you off, flopping onto the edge of his bed with a huff, arms bracing against the mattress. “I just like to watch.”

“Mhm,” you hum, amusement curling in your tone as you twist the lipstick back into its tube and abandon it in the sink. You glance at him through the mirror, mischief sparking in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Dean exhales sharply, already suspicious. “Yes, I’m sure—”

“Are you really, really sure?” You turn, stepping toward him slowly, deliberately, hands tucked behind your back like you’re hiding something.

His gaze narrows. “Lovebird, why are you looking at me like that?”

The distance between you disappears in measured steps until you’re standing between his legs. His breath stills as your fingers slide up, cradling his jaw in soft, steady hands. Before he can react, you lean down, pressing a firm, quick kiss to his cheek.

Dean jerks back, his hand flying to his face as you giggle, already knowing what you left behind. His fingers swipe over the spot, and when they come away smudged with red, he groans.

“Damn it, Cupid,” he grumbles, shooting you a halfhearted glare.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You just—” He gestures vaguely, rubbing at his cheek, only managing to smear the stain further. “You marked me.”

The words make you pause, something warm and electric settling in your chest. Your smile softens, satisfaction washing over you in slow, lazy waves. Marking Dean.

Much can be said about a cupid’s curiosity—about yours in particular. Once a thought crosses your mind, it doesn’t simply pass through. It lingers, settles into the empty spaces, curling into the corners of your mind like an itch you can’t ignore.

“Dean?” Your voice is soft, almost innocent, but the weight of your intention is anything but. Your hands find his shoulders, grounding yourself as you slip into his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

He stiffens beneath you, muscles coiling tight. It’s not that you haven’t been in his lap before—you have, a few times. But always in a shared seat sort of way.

Not like this, and certainly not while you’re wearing a little pink dress.

Dean swallows, trying to maintain that stoic expression as his hands instinctively find your waist, broad and warm against your sides. But it doesn’t take long for them to move, sliding down to your hips, tugging at the hem of your dress like he can somehow will it to cover more of you. Like that extra inch of fabric might save him from the way his pulse is already kicking up.

“Mhm?” he hums, though there’s a slight strain in his brow, a telltale sign that he’s working hard—really hard—to keep himself in check.

You tilt your head, letting your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder as you lean in just a little closer. Close enough to see his pupils dilate, black invading the green and claiming more space.

“Can I mark you again?”

It’s a simple question. Sweet. Playful.

And absolutely, utterly unfair.

Dean’s grip on your hips tightens, fingers flexing against the thin fabric of your dress as he exhales a rough, breathy laugh. His eyes flicker across your face, scanning, searching, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what’s going on in that pretty, mischief-stirred head of yours. Curiosity gleams in your gaze, tangled with something softer, something just a little bit wicked.

Finally, he nods.

The dimple in his cheek deepens as he grins, and you don’t waste a second. Your fingers curl behind his neck, nails scratching lightly at the short hairs there as you lean in.

The first kiss is sweet, a playful press of your lips against the apple of his cheek. Then another. And another. Slow, deliberate, painting him in unmistakable red, each kiss a little more possessive than the last.

You trail lower, following the sharp line of his jaw, leaving smudged stains in your wake as you explore uncharted territory. The warmth of his skin meets the cool pigment of your lipstick, and something about the contrast sends a thrill down your spine.

When your lips press into the soft divot beneath the corner of his jaw, right where his pulse thrums beneath his skin, a quiet sound escapes him—a low, involuntary groan, barely audible but entirely unrestrained.

He stiffens beneath you, breath catching, fingers digging into your hips like he’s caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

And oh, you want to make him do that again.

The sound—deep, unguarded—lingers in the space between you, igniting something electric in your veins. Your lips tingle, the ghost of his skin still warm against them, and you wonder just how many more of those delicious little sounds you can pull from him if you keep going.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, heavy-lidded, the green swallowed up by something molten. There’s a hesitation there, a silent battle waging between logic and want.

He clears his throat, forcing out a rough chuckle, but it does little to mask the way his fingers still grip your hips like he’s holding himself back. “We should stop, right?”

Your lips—plump and smudged, a hazy reminder of every place they’ve been—pout slightly as you shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

It’s honest. Bare. No teasing lilt, no coy smile—just the simple truth, spoken like a confession.

And that confirmation is all Dean needed to hear.

His hands tighten on you, his restraint snapping like a frayed rope finally giving way. And this time, when he pulls you in, he isn’t holding back.

His lips crash against yours, claiming, devouring, a breath-stealing force of want and heat. One hand digs into your hip, fingers pressing into the curve like he’s anchoring himself, while the other slides up, calloused fingertips finding the sensitive space between your neck and jaw. He grips, not harshly but firmly, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, to pull you closer, like he needs you under his skin.

It’s a heated mess of smudged lipstick, reds blending together in a haze of desperation, staining his lips, his jaw—evidence of just how thoroughly you’ve marked him. Every brush of his mouth against yours sends another spark racing through you, pooling low in your belly, an ache that’s all too familiar when it comes to him.

But this time, there’s no layers of denial, no careful restraint.

Just the heat between you, growing, pulsing, an insistent throb against the thin stretch of your panties where he presses against you—solid, unyielding, and so damn tempting. The pressure is intoxicating, and before you can stop yourself, your hips move, rocking against him in a slow, desperate grind.

Dean groans into your mouth, the sound deep and ragged, vibrating through you like a struck chord. His grip on you tightens, nails biting into the fabric of your dress as his own restraint frays at the edges.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning with the instinctive need to chase that friction, to feel more of him. The heat is unbearable, twisting inside you like a coiled spring, making you move harder, more deliberately.

“Need more, Dean.” Your voice is a breathy whimper, your lips parted, glossed with smudged red as you look up at him through lidded eyes, pouty and desperate.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he takes you in, gaze darkening at the sight of you—flushed, needy, rolling against him without a second thought. He exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling with each slow drag of your hips.

He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the contrast of tenderness against the heat between you making your stomach flip. “I can take care of that for you, sweetheart.”

Then, in one smooth motion, his arms shift—one curling under your thighs, the other pressing firm against the small of your back. He lifts you with effortless strength, adjusting himself against the headboard as he settles you more securely on his lap, spreading his legs just enough to ground you in place.

“Lift your hips for me.”

It’s a gentle command, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it, the quiet authority that makes you obey without question. His hands guide you, steady and sure, fingers pressing firm into your skin as you shift your weight onto your knees, lifting just enough to let him take control.

Dean’s thumbs hook into the fabric of your dress, dragging it up, slow and deliberate, until it pools at your waist, leaving you exposed beneath him. The cool air kisses your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat rolling off your body, to the warmth of his touch as his palms skim over your navel, tracing the dip of your waist before sliding lower.

His hands map new territory, smoothing down, down, to the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers graze the tender flesh, a barely-there touch that sends a sharp shiver rippling through you. Your body tenses, a quiet, involuntary tremor that makes Dean pause, his hands going still.

His gaze flicks up to yours, something unreadable flickering behind those deep green eyes, his touch hesitant now, gentle in a way that makes your heart ache. “We can stop here, love. It’s okay.”

His voice is quiet, rough around the edges, but so damn sincere it nearly undoes you.

But stopping now? When you’re this close, when every nerve in your body is alive with the need for more?

“No—please, no.” The words spill out in a breathless sigh, desperation laced into every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself, silently pleading. You don’t want space, don’t want hesitation—you just want him.

He nods, his breath warm against your skin as he leans down, his lips grazing your temple, trailing soft, almost reverent kisses down to your cheek. The sensation of each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as his fingers slip between your thighs, pressing gently into the space between them.

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat, as his touch moves lower, a slow, deliberate pressure against the fabric of your panties. The heat of his hand makes your body tremble, the delicate friction sending a surge of arousal through you, already soaking through the thin material.

The world narrows to the feel of him, his touch, his heat, everything else fading as his other hand wraps around the expanse of your neck. His grip is firm but not punishing, the hold just enough to tilt your head back, exposing you, leaving you vulnerable to him in the most intimate of ways.

Before you can think, his lips are on yours again, pulling you into a kiss that’s urgent, hungry, a perfect mix of passion and desperation. It’s all heat and yearning as his mouth claims yours, his fingers never ceasing their teasing, pressing against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing the response he wants from you as you moan into his open mouth. 

He shoves your panties to the side, allowing space for his middle and index finger to plunge inside. His thumb presses into your clit, massaging and coaxing more sounds from your parted lips. 

You sink deeper into his hand as he pumps in and out, reeling in the feeling and wanting more. 

His lips leave yours, his lazy smirk back in place as the hand around your neck finds your hip again, “here,” he nods, eyes flickering over you, his satisfaction in watching you like this evident in the glow of his eyes. In the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Move with me,” his eyes lock with yours as the hand on your hip guides you to rock against his hand. 

Your hips follow his guide at first, but it’s too slow, too soft—your head drops, forehead against his shoulder as you grind your hips harder against his working hand. The wet sound of his knuckles coated in your arousal fills the room as his forearm flexes, his rhythm unrelenting. 

The tension coiling in your stomach makes your breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his. “Dean—“ you gasp, and it almost sounds like a question. Like you’re unsure of how to chase this feeling. 

“That’s it, lovebird,” he whispers, his hand wrapping around your neck again with the slightest squeeze, “let go for me.” 

His grip on your neck is just enough to make your mind go numb for a second. His hand working waves of pleasure, pumping into your core and breaking into your release. 

He can’t get enough of the sight—his eyes drinking up the way your body tightens and temples at his touch. Watching his fingers claim the space no other man has gone. Your slick heat, pooling around his fingers, just for him. 

Your hips buck and twitch, riding the come down as you collapse into his chest. 

Dean’s hand glides along your spine, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the aftermath. “You alright, little love?” His voice is softer now, a low rumble edged with something tender, something just for you.

You lift your head from where it had rested against his shoulder, the world still hazy around the edges as you blink up at him. Your cheeks are warm, flushed with pleasure, your breath still a little unsteady. But it’s the sight of him that nearly steals what’s left of it—Dean, utterly marked, his face a canvas of smudged red where your lips had claimed him. A streak across his jaw, a mark on his cheekbone, the ghost of your kisses staining the very curve of his mouth.

Your stomach flutters at the sight, at the proof of what you’ve done to him. A slow, sweet smile spreads across your lips, teasing and triumphant. “We should do that more often.”

Dean huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around your waist. His lips curl into that cocky, dimpled smirk that always makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Before you can tease him back, he moves, rolling you onto your back with effortless ease. A surprised giggle bursts from your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by the warmth of his mouth pressing light, playful kisses along your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he hums against your pulse.

“I think we just might,” he whispers, his promise sealed in the way his lips linger against your skin.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @dulcescorderitas @snowluvvie @jadenreallycool @soldiersgirl @abox-of-rocks

[ultravi0lence14]

CRIMSON AND CUPID

DEAN WINCHESTER X CUPID!READER

SUMMARY: afraid of love, dean winchester doesn’t know what to expect when a rogue cupid comes fluttering around his world

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

valentine’s day was the worst time of year for dean. he thought it was stupid; a whole damn day dedicated to sappy couples who had a perfect opportunity to flaunt off their relationships. sam said he was being a love grinch, that the day could easily be used for platonic love other than one for significant others. though dean still disagreed, brushing his brother off with a shake of his hand.

the whole month of february was just awful, and dean tried to stay in the bunker as much as possible when the week of the 14th came up.

though luck was never on his side, and funny enough, on february 13th, dean winchester desperately needed to leave the bunker to go and grab a case of beer.

he really thought he had enough, but when he opened the fridge to a vacancy of craft deliciousness, he realized he’d have to venture out into the public on possibly the worst day of the year.

the day before valentine’s day.

what was worse than the actual day itself? the day where whipped saps run around town, trying to find the nicest flowers and the cheesiest gifts imaginable. call dean a mope, but he fucking hated it.

when he walked towards the beer section in the grocery store, people watching as he saw the copious amounts of flowers and chocolates being bought, dean had to laugh to himself. why was everyone freaking out? to him, it wasn’t an actual holiday, so why was everyone acting like it was fucking christmas.

as he turned around a corner, nearing closer and closer to the freezer section, dean noticed something. . . off.

there, hidden in one of the aisles, was the sweetest looking girl he’s ever seen. in a white satin slip dress, she looked as ethereal as the light shining off of her. glossy waves encased her like a halo, and when she turned around, rosy cheeks and soft features greeted him.

it wasn’t the clear beauty that was emanating from this girl that caught dean’s attention, it was the sparkly twines of pink flowing light that were shooting from her fingertips.

every couple of minutes, you’d outstretch your hand and ribbons of soft pink would glow from your hands. dean knew that if he were a normal person, he wouldn’t catch on to what you were doing. but he wasn’t normal, and what you were doing wasn’t exactly that either.

in fast strides, dean walked over to where you stood and clamped a solid hand on your shoulder, making the muscles in your body tense and your frame to jolt a little. you weren’t expecting anyone to see you, but when you turned around and saw who was behind you, the heart beating in your ribcage dropped to your toes.

dean winchester was everything you expected him to be. tall, muscular, and broodingly terrifying.

the piercing green of his eyes glared into your soul, making you realize that he saw what you just did. face paling and eyes bulging, you gaped up at him as his hand stayed firm on your shoulder, making it look like two long lost friends talking when in reality it was anything but.

“what are you and what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he quietly seethed, finger catching underneath the strap of your dress and making you shiver. “i saw that glowy shit come off your hands. now either you tell me what you just did or we can go outside and deal with this accordingly.”

when he said deal accordingly, you knew he meant him killing you. so, with bated breath, your hand pried his off your shoulder, holding on tightly and fluttering your wings until you were both sat inside of his car.

dean jumped out of his skin, hand instantly shooting to the angel blade he always kept on him like it was a gun. when you put your hands out in defence, dean decided to sit back and listen for a moment.

because how can a girl so delicate and pretty be up to something evil?

looking as calm as he could possibly be, you decided that now would be a good time to drop the other shoe. “i’m a cupid, not evil. i swear, look!”

enthusiastically, you pointed to the couple shuffling awkwardly side by side in the parking lot. you could feel the love radiating off of them both, but you could also smell the fear weaved in between the cracks.

kind of like the fear dean harboured.

a flick of your palm sent those familiar pink ribbons from your fingertips, them going directly towards the couple. when they latched on to the two, the boy’s hand tentatively reached over and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together and staring at her with a loving smile.

triumphant, you turned towards dean and felt your smile lessen as his unimpressed face came into view.

“are you kidding me? that’s all you’ve got? i’ve seen circus clowns put on a better performance than that.” crossing his arms over his chest, dean smirked smugly at you. “to prove your point, you need to do better than that, sweetheart.”

pouting, you leaned against the door of the impala and mirrored dean with your arms against your chest. “really? you don’t believe me?” the man shook his head in defiance, and you knew that the next words that were to come out of your mouth were going to be a low blow.

“well then, how would i know that you’re absolutely petrified of love?”

stunned to silence, dean couldn’t speak. he just stared at you, eyes impassive and vacant, while an absolute war waged on in his head.

“that’s right,” you continued, sitting up in your seat in an act of defiance. “you, dean winchester, are horribly scared of love. and before you say anything,” you cut off as he opened his mouth to speak. “i know your name because i’ve been briefed on you, because i can see into your heart and soul.”

“scared of love you are, dean. is it because of your parents? you don’t want your lover to tragically die like your mom? or because your dad swore he would stick by her and get her justice but ran off and slept with over women? hell, he even got one pregnant.” your words were right on the money, and dean was starting to believe you more and more as time went on.

“or,” you continued, staring back at him with a fire in your eyes. “is it because of the hunting? you don’t want to bring any woman into the life you live? the life that your father forcefully carved for you? he never showed you love as a child, didn’t he dean? so in all honesty, you don’t even know what true love looks like.”

your words left dean speechless, and as he watched the mid february sun bounce of your loose curls, he wondered what you could see when you looked into his heart.

“don’t act like you know me.” was dean’s shaky response, hands going to clutch the wheel so you didn’t see the tremors. “you don’t know anything about me, nothing at all.”

“i know enough,” you whispered, the scent of roses reaching dean’s senses as you brushed your fingers against his stubbly cheek. “i know you were expecting some big baby in a diaper, but us cupid’s come in different forms, and have different purposes. mine, is to help.”

shaking his head, dean looked back at you, his green eyes slicing through yours. “what does that even mean?”

“it means that i am here to stay, and i may not be under heaven’s orders anymore, but i can guide you in the right path, i swear it, dean.” your words did little to comfort him, but your presence brought a comfort to the boy he didn’t know existed. that was until he realized what you actually said.

“wait. what do you mean not under heaven’s orders anymore?”

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @sunsbaby @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis @deanangel @beausling @deanswidow @figthoughts @haunteres @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess @flow33didontsmoke @whump-loverz @ilovedeanwinchester4 @therealboostergold @mochminnie @jstcln @wedoinalr @s0urw00lf

NAT BABBLES: a lil late for valentine’s day but i love cupid reader so much

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam confronts Y/N on her feelings for his brother.

Warnings: basically none but it is a little angsty. Sam playing cupid. Also Sam might be ooc- sorry

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra ,

@fablesrose , @ada--44

A/N: Hi! To start off thank you so much for all the support recently I’m truly grateful for you all and i’m so happy to say I have people who seem to enjoy my writing. But on the writing note I just wanted to acknowledge a sort of plot hole:

if you have read the series up to now you probably know that it was said Y/N has a job and kept it (just doing it basically on her laptop alone) even when she went with the boys to find their Dad. I did this because I wanted a sense of independence for her as I felt like this made sense, would she drop anything to help them yes but I also don’t think she would be so quick to give up her life since she had her own house and didn’t hunt 24/7. Now as we are a little bit further into the story I don’t think she would have this job anymore but I also don’t know how to write it into the story and i don’t think i want to write a half chapter just on it (tho this might change). So for the sake of the story you can decide why she dosnt have this writing job anymore,for me I see it as she secretly quit after the skin walker hunt because she realized where her focus needed to go and how tiring hunting full time was. I also don’t think she ever brought it up to the boys out of fear of making them feel guilty, tho they probably figured it out and didn’t say anything either.

Anyways sorry for the rant i’ll let you read this now! And Happy thanksgiving to any and all who celebrate

Word Count: 819

A fool in love

(Master list, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“Here you go” Sam says, placing a cup of tea in front of me having picked up our drinks from some local place as we sat in the library trying to find a new hunt or any clues to where his Dad could be.

He didn’t have a third cup with him, Dean having not joined us deciding instead to go find a “lead” in a bar.

“Thanks” I mumble before bringing the hot drink to my lips.

He sits down in front of me, shuffling in his chair awkwardly. “Are you okay?” I laugh lightly at his odd movements. He clears his throat, “Yeah, I, uh…can we talk?”

“Of course” I smiled at him, my eyebrows scrunched together slightly.

“Promise you won’t get annoyed” He starts off. I laugh, “Okay? But I don’t know if I can exactly promise anything when I don’t know what you’re gonna say.”

“Just…promise” He held out his pinky to me, something he knew I took very seriously. I smile harder, linking my pinky with his, the very sacred promise now in effect. He studies my face carefully as if to see if I was really serious even with the pinky promise.

He bites the inside of his cheek going silent for a beat before finally speaking, “Why don’t you just tell Dean you love him?”

“Sam-“ I sigh, not knowing what to say. We’ve had this conversation before, years ago, where it was established that Sam knew my feelings for his brother.

“Why would I confess to someone who doesn't feel the same way?” I finally say.

“But he does!” He practically yells, getting weird looks from those who sat around us- library rules and all that. His face flushes a deep pink with embarrassment, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone loves you, that he loves you?

“Look where he is right now, at a bar probably getting some girl's number or even leaving with her to hook up. He clearly doesn't feel the same for me as I do him.” I explained, a little frustrated. He doesn't say anything for a while again, “I think he does that to avoid his feelings for you.”

“Yes you think but you do not know and I…” I sigh, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Don’t you notice the way he stares at you? He couldn’t keep his hands off of you” He points out, referring to the Hook Man case. “That was for a cover” I answer simply.

“There were a lot of times where there wasn’t an excuse for a cover up, like the armchair.” The mere mention of me sitting on Dean's lap makes my face feel hot.

I don’t have anything to counter that, I mean it was just to amplify me being his girlfriend for a cover. That’s what it was.

He becomes all sassy and self assured as he speaks, “See! Deep down you know I'm right, you just don’t wanna admit it. And you know what I noticed?”

“What?” I humor him, making eye contact.

“Every time you get hurt or there’s even a little bit of concern towards you he stops hiding his feelings. It’s like suddenly no other woman exists, only you.

You have to have noticed that at least.”

I bit on my bottom lip in thought, he’s right. I can think of numerous occasions where Dean had ignored very attractive women when I was hurt or in the prospect of danger, exactly as Sam said.

No.

No.

Nope.

Dean Winchester is not in love with me, it isn’t true.

“You know a couple months back” I begin, “I forget which hunt it was. But it was only like a month of being on the road with you guys and through that whole time it hadn’t mattered the circumstance, even when we were in the middle of hunting, or where we were, either way Dean was flirting or hooking up with some girl. And every single time I would feel this…this…pang in my heart or maybe like my heart had dropped into my stomach. Which only made me feel more like a fool.

So it got to a point where I just decided, you know what, I'm gonna force myself. I'm going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for him. That it doesn't pain me to see him like that with other women.

“Did it work?” He asks me, his eyes having a certain solemn look to them.

I sigh for the upteenth time, “No. For some stupid reason I can’t stop loving your brother.” He turns his eyes down towards the table.

I try to catch his eyes, “Do you get what I’m saying?”

He looks back up at me, “Yeah. My brother’s an idiot.”

I choke on my laugh, taking a deep breath before I speak, “Maybe. Or…maybe it just isn’t meant to be.”

[cheynovak]

Forest Green Eyes - PART 5 

Castiel & Y/N Winchester  

Warnings:  smut implied - hurt - angst - cursing

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words: 1928 

This story takes place after the SPN finally. Jack asked Castiel to go back to earth to be the guardian angel of Y/N. Cas accepts this task but only to discover that Y/N is the biological child of Dean.  

 

Part 6 soon  (Final)

----------------------- 

 

Castiel pulled the cover over them while Y/N snuggled by his side. “This is going to change things, isn’t it?” He asked. “Well, I hope so, more of this. More of... Us” She answered drawing circles on his chest.  

“Us, sounds good.” He said. Minutes later Y/N felt asleep while Castiel kept listening to the music that was still playing in the background.   

-- 

The next morning Y/N woke up in Castiel’s bed alone, it took a second for her to realize he wasn’t there with her. But the second she smelt the bacon in the air she knew that he was in the kitchen making breakfast. This made her smile.  

Y/N got up went back to her room to find some new clothes and took a quick shower before she going to the kitchen. She grinned stepping into the kitchen, looking at Cas his broad shoulders, already dressed and wearing an apron. “Hi handsome.” She kissed his shoulder while she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Good morning, hope you’re hungry.” He said while turning to her to kiss her.  

 

Cas watched Y/N’s every bite mesmerized by her. “Castiel, you’re staring.” - “Sorry” he said shyly.  

“Y/N last night, how.... was it.. for you?” She looked at him a little startled “I mean, was it good? I know that even though I'm much older you are the one with more, eh, experience.”  

“You’re doubting yourself Cas? It was amazing, truly.” The angel smiled softly. “Good” 

“Well what are the plans for today? She asked while finishing the last bits of her plate. “Unfortunately, I’ve been summoned to heaven.” He said. “Jack wants to talk to me. Will you be ok here?” She nodded, kissed him and before he left, she made sure his tie was straightened.  

With Castiel gone Y/N had nothing better to do than go grocery shopping. But not before she stopped at a coffeeshop for a to go coffee. When she got out, she heard a familiar voice. ”Y/N? Y/N is that really you?” - “M-mom?” The woman dropped everything she held and sprinted towards Y/N and hugged her like her life depended on it. “How, why are you here?” Was all Y/N could force to come out of her mouth. “Well, I left your dad a couple of years ago. And been moving around since then.” She said with tears in her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you. And when your picture was posted on the social media page of that bar, I knew I had to drive over here." Both women decided to have a drink and talk more.

Y/N forgave her mother. 

‘Mom, there is one question I always wanted to ask.” Her mom nodded like she already knew what Y/N was going to ask. “Who is my real dad?” Well, he was a guy I met at the bar. Real charming fella. He worked for the FBI had a case in town, well and after that he left.”  

“You look so much like him. Unbelievable.” - “If he worked for the FBI we might be able to track him.” she said softly under her breath. “You want to go looking for him?” said her mom startled. “Well, I don’t know if I want to talk to him. But at least know who he is.” She answered honestly. 

Meanwhile in heaven:  

 “Jack, you wanted to talk to me? What’s going on? Is this about Y/N?” The angel asked worried. “Nothing wrong Castiel, I wanted to tell you that I’m glad that the family is finally united. I mean we had to pull a lot of strings to finally make you two fall in love.” 

“Make us? You mean you planned this all along?” Cas asked raising his voice. “Well, heaven made sure John and Mary fell in love. Even Jess and Sam was their doing.” Jack said not entirely understanding why Castiel was upset. “Winchesters always need a little help to find their soul mates. And since I wanted you to be happy, and you are only happy on earth, I figured why not help a little.” He said proud. ” Cas, you always come back to heaven because you feel that I need you in case there is a mission. Well, I made sure there was a mission on earth.” 

 

Castiel’s eyes widened: “W-winchester? So, she is...” - “...Dean's daughter.” Jack completed his sentence. “Jack! Do you have any idea what you did! How, how am I going to be able to explain this to her? What, how did you helped, us?” Castiel asked defeated. Jack explained that he made sure a couple of different cupids crossed your way. The father and son from the car dealership, the man at the bar, the bartender, even Steve Y/N’s ex boyfriend. “I asked them to slowly awake the feelings she had inside. Not to force her to love you! Know that!”  

“Does, does Dean know about this?” The angel asked. “No, I figured it would be best for him not to know he has a child. Not yet."  

“What about me? What did the cupids do?” 

“Nothing, you fell for her. That was a risked I had to take. I hoped you had a type. Their power wouldn’t work on you.”  

Back on earth, Castiel had visited heaven for almost a week and Y/N was so kind to let her mom stay with her for the time being.  

“Cas, you’re home! How was.... Work?” She asked while the angel walked through the door. “Work?” he asked. Y/N signed toward the main room. “Ah, eh, work was fine.” And faked a smile. “So, this is the handsome fella who looked so smitten in the pictures?” Her mom called them out from inside the room. Castiel was a little in shock to see her mother in the bunker.  

“Right, Cas this is my mom, mom this is Cas my eh boyfriend.”  

“Castiel, it’s nice to meet you Mrs.” He said politely while offering her a hand. “Oh, call me Nancy. You have a special place here Castiel. Thank you for letting me stay.” The rest of the night went smooth. Y/N and her mom talked about the lost years and Cas occasionally smiled or agreed with what Y/N told.  

Later in bed. 

Castiel was holding Y/N in his arms. “Cas, don’t you think it would be nicer to move your stuff to my room? You know, share a room?” Y/N asked while letting her fingertips stroke over his arms and chest. “If you want to, sure.” He kissed her head. “But first” she got up and straddled him, placing a knee on each side of his hips. “I’m going to show you how much I missed you.” She said while placing open kisses on his neck. Castiel let out a moan placing his large hands on her thighs, while Y/N hands moved down and kissed him all over his torso. “I can’t believe I had to miss you this week. The bed was so empty without you.” Like a man possessed he sat up holding her neck with one hand while his other held her hip, kissing her hard. Pushing her closer to him so that she had no choice but to grind on him. “Oh Cas, so needy?” She teased with her lips still close to his. “I want you too, baby.” she said nearly breathless while sucking and licking his neck.  

 

But then Castiel remembered what Jack had said about the cupids. 

“Y/N, stop... STOP! “He raised his voice, pushing her of him, leaven her completely stunned sitting there. “Cas? What’s wrong?” She asked with a worried look. “Did I do something wrong?”  

“No.” He said not even looking at her. “Did something happen?” She asked holding his face in her hands trying to make him look at her. “No, no I ... I just don’t want...” He said removing her hands from his face. “You don’t want to have sex?” pausing “Or don’t you want ... me?” This question made his eyes shoot up. “Oh god, no, no that’s not what I meant. I’m just really tired Y/N” She nodded. “Heaven, it was a lot, I just want to lie down holding you watch you fall asleep. If that’s ok” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that if it wasn’t for heavens “help” she probably didn’t even want to be with him.  

“Yeah, yeah sure.” She still wasn’t certain about his answer but trusted him to tell her the truth when he was ready. 

The next morning Castiel looked better. “Why don’t I drive to the supermarket and see what I can come up with for breakfast?” "Great idea, shall I empty your closets and put it in boxes? So, we can move them to my room? Y/N asked." “Perfect!” He left through the door.  

“Need a hand?” Your mom asked? “I’d love to help instead of sitting here doing nothing." A couple of minutes later you hear your moms voice “That's him! This is your father!” Y/N turned around to see what she was talking about. She was holding a picture, the one they took at Bobby’s place with Ellen and Jo. She found it in one of Castiel’s drawers. She showed you “This is him and this taller one, that was his partner. And is that...” “... Castiel” you finish the sentence with her. “I don’t know any of the other people. But I’m damn sure that is him!”  

 

Castiel came home, you were sitting at the table with the picture and the list he made long time ago that you found while emptying all his drawers to find answers, the list where he compared your looks and characteristics to Dean’s. You asked your mother to leave for a while so you could talk to Castiel. “Hi, I didn’t find eggs. But they had pie for dessert tonight.” He said while looking at the bag.  

“Apple pie? Like I don’t now Dean’s favourite?” She asked bitsy. Castiel stopped and looked over to her. He saw the picture and the list. Y/N stood up, showing the picture to his face reading the list angry. Then looked him dead in the eyes. ‘Did you know?” His silence said enough. Y/N puffed “How long?”  

The angel looked down. “DAMMIT CAS, how long!”  

“I noticed very early on similarities. So, I thought...” Y/N didn’t let him finish “So you thought if I can’t have Dean, I’ll take the next best thing?”  

“What?! No, no that was never my intention Y/N!” She wanted to believe him but had a hard time.  

“Jack, he just told me the truth.” And so did the angel begin to explain everything Jack had told him hours ago. “So, you mean that this, us, isn’t real?” She asked with tears in his eyes. “That’s why you pushed me away last night.” It all makes sense now. “It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to hurt you.” She huffed again. “Great fucking job Cas.”  

“So, what happens now?” The angel asked with a shaky voice. Y/N looked at him, emotionless “I think your mission on earth is over Castiel. I think... you should go back to Jack and tell him to leave me alone.” She said this and the tears in her eyes started to shine. “Y/N please, don’t.” He begged. Y/N got up, letting the picture fall out of her hand in front of Castiel. “I’m going for a walk. When I come back, I want you gone.” She said without wasting another look at him.   

 

 

 ---- 

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Part 6 will be the final part  

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Hunter!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time ever writing here, i'm still new.

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

���I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[ecstxsyy]

BITE ME. | S. WINCHESTER ❦︎

Sam uses his size to his advantage.

based on this comment.

(requests for v-day event are closed!)

18+ mdni!

sam winchester x fem!reader

warnings: porn with no plot, p in v, light biting, unprotected sex.

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

SAM WINCHESTER has the biggest size kink ever, he loves how much he towers over your small frame. You were average height but Sam was just huge, and he used it to his advantage as much as he could.

When you have sex, he uses his weight to pin you to the mattress below you, plowing his cock into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, his dick was much like the rest of him, absolutely huge. Your legs shook around his waist as you clawed at the rose petal-ridden sheets.

The night started as a Valentine’s Day date, the two of you left Dean to do some research on a case while the two of you got dinner and rented a separate motel room. Sam wanted to give you a special night, no matter how crazy your life is.

“Fuck, Sam. You’re so deep,” you cried out, Sam took this as his queue to hoist your legs over his shoulders, giving him an even deeper angle to pound into you. You nearly screeched at the change of positions, his tip bullying your g-spot. Sam hung his head into the crook of your neck when he got an idea, he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, biting you lightly. This pulled a loud moan out of you, your cunt clenching around his cock.

“You like that?” Sam asked, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. If he wasn't giving you some of the best sex of your life you’d give him a snarky response, but your mind was blank, the only thing you could about was how good he was fucking you.

Sam felt almost drunk on the feeling he got from the look on your face, your eyebrows scrunched and relaxed with every thrust and your eyes looked glossy and full of bliss. He knew you were gonna cum soon but couldn't vocalize it, he could feel your walls tighten and relax around him, pushing him closer to his own orgasm.

When you came, your legs shook, and moans tumbled out of your mouth loudly, the two of you had given up on being quiet a long time ago. Sam rode you through your orgasm, one last clench of your pussy sending him over the edge.

Sam came inside of you with a loud grunt, painting your walls with his sticky seed. He fucked it inside of you for a bit before pulling out of you slowly and collapsing on top of you. The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment, panting and out of breath until Sam decided to run a shower for you.

Once the water was warm, he carried you to the bathroom and began cleaning your sticky skin. He made sure you were completely clean before dressing you in one of his shirts and tucking you into bed, crawling in on the other side to cuddle with you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[jjunberry]

❝ forever with me ❞

synopsis ⟢ can't promise that things won't be broken but i swear that i will never leave,please stay forever with me…when you’re forced to sit next to the one person you despise the most during a road trip, things get tense as emotions are at an all time high. (WIP)

pairing ⟢ nishimura riki x fem!reader

genre ⟢ enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol au, slice of life, angst, fluff

warnings ⟢ arguments, cursing, niki & reader being assholes, jungwon and jake playing cupid??

wc ⟢ tba mlist ⟢

your eyebrows furrowed at jungwon, who stood across from you. “you have got to be kidding me,” your arms crossed. he smiled sheepishly, “i’m sorry but this year, it’s your turn for the back seat.” the back seat which you’ve always avoided since every year niki sat back there. “jungwon, this trip is a four hour drive, you want me to sit next to him for four hours?” jungwon sighed at your question. “with the drivers rotating, you two don’t drive so it’s easier this way.” curse you for not having your drivers license.

“i am not happy about this,” your arms crossed as you plopped down on your couch. jungwon sat next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. “it’s only for the ride there, you can manage yeah? just take your headphones.” you sighed and nodded, “i’m only doing this for you and the others, don’t expect a peep out of me.” jungwon smiled at your words, knowing there was no way you’d keep quiet against niki.

tag list: @304files @jjunieworld @miaroseindreamland @babymochibeargyu ..(leave an ask if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic or added to my permanent tag list)

release date? tba

author’s note: this was heavily inspired by if i’m james dean, you’re audrey hepburn by sleeping with sirens lolol the emo to kpop pipline is crazy

love , echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

You better make it soon before you break my heart (Sam Winchester x female reader)

You and Sam get drunk together and Dean plays cupid.

Find it on AO3

Rated T. 3.3k words. Drunk Sam. Margaritas. Crushes. Flirting. Drunk dancing. Dean being a good brother. First kiss.

“What do you think would happen if we started adding margaritas into this?” you ask, already struggling with the word margarita.

“I think—I think that we would probably die,” Sam says.

“Pff,” you say. “Don’t be a baby, Winchester. You can’t live life one foot in, one foot out.”

You’re not totally sure what you mean, but it sounds good. Sam blinks at you, narrows his eyes, making him look more drunk that he already does, with those slightly flushed cheeks and the way his usually so controlled movements are now all over the place.

He looks so good that it almost sobers you up, so you take another big sip of your drink to make sure that doesn’t happen.

You make a face at the strong whiskey taste. You want something nicer, something sweeter. Like Sam? your brain, the mischievous asshole, adds.

Yes, like Sam. Exactly like Sam.

He speaks, breaking you out of your little daydream. “If we drink margaritas now, the only thing we’ll be half foot in is the emergency room.”

It takes you a second and then you chuckle. It’s clever. Sam’s clever.

You lean forward on the table and maybe stare at him a little too intently. He catches your eye, and then looks away quickly. “You’re funny, Sam,” you say, still looking at him. He has the audacity to blush a little, shrugs those big, broad man shoulders of his.

You want to say more. You want to say that he’s beautiful and kind and sweet and so smart and that sometimes he makes you feel like you’re floating, like a cartoon character that’s smelling a pie.

Luckily just then, the waitress comes over. “Can I get you two anything else?” she says, and you throw Sam a look, wiggle your eyebrows.

He sighs, defeated, and orders two margaritas.

Dean finds you about an hour later. You and Sam aren’t sloppy drunk but definitely giggly drunk. You are holding on to your half empty glass and leaning to the side because Sam has said something so adorable and goofy that you are now laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

Sam is laughing too, a little bashful but then it’s turning into real, actual laughter and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. It’s so rare to hear him like that. Too rare.

Dean walks up to the table like an annoyed parent who has to pick up his kid from a sleepover because they ate too much candy and then barfed everywhere.

Sam sees him a second later, nods at him, but even though you both sort of recover you’re still giggling.

“How’d it go?” Sam asks, and he’s definitely slurring a little bit, the grin on his face wide.

You want to kiss it. The face and the grin.

Dean sits down, eyeing you both a little suspiciously.  “It was fine,” he says, “but the county sheriff is pretty useless. I think he’s a drunk. But then,” he makes a sarcastic face, “looks like he’s not alone in that.”

You know he’s just trying to be a reasonable but you don’t need this buzz kill right now. You can already see Sam starting to feel bad that he was out having fun while Dean was working, but that only happened because Sam finished his research so fast and Dean was slow, because he was busy flirting with that one witness at the station.

No, you’re not gonna let him suck the fun out of tonight.

“Boooh,” you say then push your glass towards him. “Drink and be merry, Dean,” you say and Sam chuckles.

Dean looks down at the drink, a little disgusted. “It has a salted rim,” you say to him, cocking your head. “You loooove that.”

Sam bursts out laughing. You’re not even sure what you said and then you realize the double meaning. Oopsie. But Sam’s laugh is so infectious that you just go along with it.

Dean rolls his eyes pointedly. To make up for it, you raise your arm, wave over the waitress. She joins you, Dean turning around to give her an appreciative look.

“Hi there,” you say, as if you are talking to her for the first time tonight. “Could you please get my friend here the most boring, adult drink you have, please?” you ask her.

Dean smiles at her, already flirting. “Whiskey neat is fine. And I wouldn't mind getting your number as well.”

You look over at Sam, who widens his eyes, looks at you. You’re both used to Dean flirting shamelessly, but that’s fast, even for him.

The waitress returns the smile, checks him out a little. “Coming up,” she says, walks away, looking back to make sure Dean is looking after her. He is, of course.

“Jeez,” you mumble, “get a room.” Dean turns back, looks at you.

“Look who’s talking,” he says and you can feel the violent blush in your face. You hope it’s not as visible under the dimmed light of the bar as it feels, but you can’t be sure.

Dean is kind enough to change the topic, starts talking more about the sheriff and the lack of information he found. You take your drink back from him, taking a big sip and chance a look at Sam. It looks like he didn’t notice. Thank God.

Dean doesn’t officially know about your crush on Sam, but he’s not an idiot, as much as he might sometimes act like one. He doesn’t miss the longing looks you throw his younger brother, how you react like you’re stung by a jellyfish every time Sam touches you, or how once, when a witness was throwing herself at him and Sam didn’t seem totally disinterested, you might have snuck to the bathroom to sniffle a little.

Sam on the other hand seems completely oblivious, which is good and bad at the same time. Good because you’re pretty sure if he were to find out and not feel the same way about you the embarrassment would kill you on the spot. Bad because on the off chance that he does like you that way, he sure as hell isn’t going to be making the first step, not if he’s not absolutely sure you like him back. And you would never tell him because, well, all of the above. Which means it’s unlikely that anything will come of it.

So you drink and talk and geek together, sharing secrets and talking about things you’ve never talked to anyone else about, and you’re pretty sure neither has Sam. And you don’t cuddle or kiss or touch or do any of the other things you would like to do with Sam. No, sir.

You all finish your drinks, Dean scores the waitress’s number and then you’re stepping out into the warm summer evening.

You get into the Impala, you climb into the back without breaking your neck, and Dean starts driving you back to the motel.

Sam plays around with the radio until he finds a station, while you roll down one of the back windows.

“Are you gonna be sick?” Dean asks, glaring at you in the rearview mirror.

“Noo, just like the air, air’s nice,” you say, leaning your head so the night air is hitting your face. It feels amazing, and just when you think you probably can’t feel any better, the station Sam found starts playing Fleetwood Mac.

“Hell yeah,” you say, raising both hands over your head, crossing them there. You hum along, watch the dark country roads go by.

After a minute you look forward again, just to see Sam’s head turning away quickly. Did you just catch him look at you? No, surely not?

You sink a little deeper into the seat.

It doesn’t take long after that to arrive at the motel. You get out, swaying a little. The three of you start walking towards your room, when Dean suddenly stops in his tracks. He licks his lip, then half turns back to the car.

“Actually, I think I left that waitress's number at the bar,” he says. No, he didn’t. You saw him pocket it when you walked out.

You’re about to say exactly that, when he throws Sam the room keys in a high arch. Sam doesn’t catch them, has to bend down to pick them up, and for a second you think he’ll topple. You lay a hand on his arm, which is probably not very helpful, but it’s an excuse to touch him.

“Gotta go back,” Dean says, shrugging, a bit of a grin on his face.

“Dean,” you start, then hiccup a little, and continue. “I’m sure you’ll score another number in the next town.”

But Dean’s already on his way back to the Impala. He turns around as he's about to get in, and now he's full on grinning. "Yeah," he says, "but she could be the one. Gotta be sure. You have to be brave to find love." And then he winks at you and a second later, you and Sam are standing in a whirl of dust left behind by the Impala. 

Sam waves his hand in front of his face, coughing a little. Meanwhile you are trying not to scream.

What the hell did Dean mean by that? Brave to find love? You turn to Sam, the internal screaming momentarily under control.

Sam looks down at you. He has the cutest little pout on him. "Inside?" he asks, like it's a full sentence. You nod. Inside.

The walk to the room is short but it allows you to think about what Dean was insinuating. 

It would be cruel, what he's suggesting, if he doesn't at least think there's a chance that Sam likes you back, and Dean is many things, but he is not cruel. At least not normally. That means that he knows something, or suspects something. 

Your head is spinning and it's not just from the alcohol. Suddenly you're terrified. 

You make it to the room, and Sam unlocks it. It only takes him three tries. He's so graceful. 

You are leaning against the door frame while he wrangles the door. When it swings open, he looks at you, all proud smiles. Despite your nervousness, you smile back, slap his arm. 

"You are, like, a master at opening doors. Amazing form. Ten points."

He nods. "I do unlock a lot of doors," he says, and then holds his arm out to signal for you to go in before him.

You do, walk in, and then, because suddenly you don't know what to do and you're hyper aware of the situation, you just kind of stand there in the middle of the room. 

Sam walk in behind you, throwing closed the door behind him and plops down on the bed, face first.

You turn to him and it gives you too good of a view of his body, so you mumble "gotta use the bathroom," and rush off.

You close the door behind you and sit on the closed toilet seat. Okay. Breath.

There's no reason to be nervous. You are alone with Sam, which you have been a million times. You are drunk with Sam, alone, and it's not a big deal.

Except that Dean said that stuff about having to be brave to find love. Did he mean you need to be brave to find love? Did he mean with Sam? Or was he just talking out of his ass and your drunk brain is cooking something up that's not really there?

You sigh. Goddamn, this is really killing your buzz. It's fine. It's better to not do anything you might regret. Tomorrow, when you're sobered up and hungover, you can go back to interpreting Dean's cryptic messages. But tonight you just want to have fun, just for a little longer.

You walk out and Sam's still lying on the bed. You think he might be passed out for a second, but then he raises one hand where it's lying on the bed next to him, giving a thumbs up. "All good," he says, not opening his eyes. "Jus' resting my face."

You can't help but chuckle at that and all the lovey dovey feelings come rushing back, replacing your anxiety. You just want to have a fun drunk night with Sam. If nothing else ever comes of it, you're still damn lucky.

So, to rally the troops, you take out your phone, turn the sound all the way up, and start playing the song you heard in the car, "Everywhere". It starts with that weird tingly noise, and you use that time to walk over to Sam, kicking off your shoes without any major mishaps, and then lean on his back with both arms, and shake him a little.

He makes a noise that's a mixture of a grunt and something you've only ever heard donkeys make.

"No shaking, please," he says, frowning. 

"Then get up," you say. "You get up, and no more shaking." 

The song starts properly now and you start dancing a little, because it's just too good. Sam finally gets up, kind of. He turns around, leaning up on one elbow.

"Come on, Sam," you say. "Let's dance the drunk out."

He laughs, even though he still looks sleepy. And then he watches you for a moment, and his face becomes incredibly serious. 

You stop your dancing. "What?" you ask, and you think he's going to say something horrible. 

"Nothin'," he says, and his voice is kind of quiet. "You're just pretty."

A not entirely unpleasant shock goes through you. Pretty.

You try to recover, wave him off. "You're very drunk, Sam," you say and then, because you think if he looks at you for a second longer you'll burst into flames, you jump on the bed without warning.

He ducks his head, scoots out of the way so he doesn't get trampled. You start bouncing on the bed to the beat of the music, doing something with your arms, you're not even sure what. 

You sing along loudly to the "I want to be with you everywhere," and the meaning of the words doesn't really reach your brain, because you point at Sam while singing them. It's just your entertainer persona, or what some people would call very limited dance moves, that makes you point at him. 

You pull your arm back immediately. Yikes. To cover, you pretend you were just trying to get Sam to dance. "Come on, get up, we are not losing to margaritas! We're stronger than that!"

Sam actually gets up then, and while what he does can't really be called dancing, he is at least moving his body.

You woohoo in his direction, and pick up your own dancing again. Then you make the mistake of trying to take a step to the side, forgetting that you are not on solid ground, but on a cheap motel bed. You foot gets tangled in the thin comforter.

You're gonna fall off this bed and break your neck, you just know it.

But you don't, because there's Sam. He's stepped closer to the bed and is holding you by the waist. You don't fall. You don't die.

You're on the bed and he's standing on the floor, so you're half a head taller than him currently. You're also really, really close to him, and oh yeah, there's the whole hands-on-waist thing.

You swallow. "Thanks," you say, but it comes out quiet and a little cracked. Sam smiles up at you, a little unsure. He could let you go now, but he doesn't. He keeps holding you.

Your brain is desperately trying to find something to say, something to make this not awkward, something to make you stop thinking about Sam's lips so close to yours, the beauty mark next to his nose that you want to touch, his smell, his big hands on you.

What you come up with is this: "Gee, I really get this whole being tall thing now. It's nice." It's one of the more stupid things you've said, but Sam still smiles at it.

"Has its advantages," he says, and then he's looking into your eyes and you're looking into his.

Sam's breathing a little harder. You lean in a little closer because he is so damn magnetic. Somewhere far away the song is starting over.

He clears his throat. "I really want to kiss you," he says.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and David Bowie. 

"I want you to want to kiss me," you reply, and you have just enough working brain cells left to correct yourself. "I want you to kiss me."

He nods. Then suddenly he looks unsure. "But," he says, and you think no, no buts, no buts please, I will start an anti-buts movement, before he continues: "I don't want it to, you know, be like this, I think. I don't want us to regret it in the morning. Or forget it."

"I won't regret it," you say, maybe a little too fast. "And I don't think I'll forget it, either." Because how could you? How could you forget something like that?

Sam nods again, still looking into your eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Super sure," you say, nodding as well. And then, because sometimes your brain does come up with good ideas, you add: "Plus, we could just kiss again tomorrow. That way we won't forget what it's like."

Now Sam is grinning, and from this close it's even better, even more breathtaking. It shows off his dimples and because you're already in too deep, you move your hands up, one landing on his shoulder, one on his cheek, your thumb close to that little valley in his face that shows up when he's happy.

"Okay," Sam says, and you say it as well.

And then he is pulling you in, very, very slowly, like he's expecting you to change your mind halfway in. 

You lick your lips, just a little, because you realize your mouth has gone incredibly dry. 

And then you're kissing Sam. His eyes close and so do yours. His lips are soft and there's still a hint of salt on them from the drinks. It's perfect.

Your heart is beating so hard than you're sure he must hear it. His one hand leaves your waist, and his arm goes around you, holds you there. 

You take your one hand off his shoulder and cup his face with that one as well, because you've never gotten to touch his face like that before.

Sam breaks the kiss, eventually. Your eyes stay closed and it's a good thing he's holding you. You might fall off the bed otherwise anyway, margaritas or no margaritas.

You can tell he's looking at you, so you blink your eyes open. He has a slight smile on his face.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asks. You don't bother saying yes. You pull his face close to yours and do it.

This kiss is a little different. Where the first one was soft and sweet and careful, this one feels a little more raunchy. Sam's breathing out through his nose as if to contain himself, and it's so goddamn sexy. He's pulling you closer and you're pulling him closer, and then suddenly your tongues are meeting and you actually moan a little. You can feel him smile at that. Yeah, you won't forget that.

And then you can hear the Impala pulling up outside. Looks like Dean struck out.

Sam unleashes your lips and you lean down, lay your forehead against his. His hand goes up and strokes your cheek. 

"Tomorrow?" he asks, and you nod against him. "Tomorrow." 

You're not sure what it means, but it's a promise. A promise you're happy to keep.

I want to be with you everywhere, Christine McVie sings and you couldn't agree more.

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I am punished by love. 𓆩♡𓆪

DEAN WINCHESTER X CUPID!READER

SUMMARY: Reader finds herself getting in trouble with Lord Eros, and the boys find themselves with a dying Valentine. 3.9k

WARNINGS: A little angst, not a lot. Gods are assholes. fem!reader. Not a lot happens, but this is where the story starts getting good.

NOTES: Cupid is back! I'm sorry it took so long but classes are killing me. Anyway, she's here and she's free. I will probably write another part to this because I love them but still let me know if you'd like that. It's really freaking long because I cannot be brief when I write. Enjoy<3

Every Valentine knew that they weren’t allowed to mingle much with mortals. Yes, Lord Eros didn’t care if you occasionally talked or messed around with a human, but forming bonds with them? That was different. 

That’s why every time you met with the Winchesters, you had to be extra careful. Eros was a deity, he was often too busy to notice what every single one of his followers was doing. And your quota of love meetings was being fulfilled, so you didn’t worry too much.

You liked to surprise the brothers with unannounced appearances, especially Dean. You loved to materialize next to him at a bar, in his motel room, or sometimes even while they were visiting a morgue. You had gotten really good at dodging bullets when you scared him a little too hard, always having a fit of giggles while he clutched his pearls and grumbled at you. 

He never stayed mad for too long. 

You liked to hang around, sometimes helping the guys with research or healing them after an especially bloody hunt. The necklace that was always around your neck, the one with an arrow charm, shining with a soft pink glow as you cradle the brothers’ faces in your hands and let your power heal them. You never got involved in the hunt itself, since killing something could probably end up calling some deity's attention and the information would eventually get back to Lord Eros. 

That was, until that night.

Sam and Dean were hunting somewhere near your zone, you were informed by wind nymph you were friends with. Excited, you decided to finish work early after meeting your quota and pay the guys a visit. It had been quite some time since the last time you saw them, and you were missing the warmth that filled your chest when those green eyes were on you.

But when you materialize wherever Dean was, you see something that makes your blood freeze. Sam is on the floor, unconscious. He was bleeding steadily from a wound on his head, looking as if he had been thrown against multiple walls. But his aura was still there, which meant he was alive. But what makes you grab your bow without a second thought is the sight of Dean, tied up to a column. 

There is something in front of him, your mind doesn't even register what it is. But it is some kind of bird hybrid, with winged arms and clawed feet. But what you do register is the way its clawed hand is over Dean’s chest, steadily digging its way to his heart. 

Without thinking twice, you shoot a celestial bronze heart-pointed arrow through its chest. As the monster drops to the floor, you run to Dean.

“Dean!” Your voice is full of panic as you reach him, quickly cutting his restraints free with your dagger. 

“Sweetheart.” He leans forward, collapsing onto you, clearly dizzy with whatever the monster had done to him and still bleeding from the scratches on his chest. 

“Dean!” You yell again as his whole body weight presses onto you. You lean backwards and cup his face with your hands. After a few seconds, he is healed. Once you make sure he’s not bleeding anymore, you leave him regaining his breath with his back against the pole while you run to Sam, white tights ripped and dirty at the knees from kneeling down on the dirty floor. You quickly heal Sam too, and once he opens his eyes, you go back to check on Dean. 

But as soon as you stand up and turn around, your breath is punched out of your lungs.

There, on the floor, with your heart-shaped arrow piercing clean through its chest, was a harpy. 

“No.” You whisper, slowly walking closer to the corpse on the floor. “No, no. Please, no.”

Sam and Dean share a confused look, but Dean immediately gets up from the floor and walks closer to you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Not even Dean’s deep voice could calm you down right now. Because you had just killed a harpy. One of Zeus’ hounds. There was no hiding from this, no way to excuse yourself. You were a Valentine, you didn’t kill monsters, you weren’t even supposed to ever find yourself in their path. A harpy would’ve never attacked you, because it would have recognized you as Eros’.

You don’t notice how bad your hands are shaking until Dean takes them into his bigger ones, his rough and calloused skin wrapping around your soft and delicate one. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring us.” He says, turning you around to face him. “Please, tell us what’s going on.”

You open your mouth to talk, but you’re interrupted by a cheerful, childish voice.

“So this is where my favorite little Valentine has been sneaking off to.” The voice is jolly and fake, and it makes you shut your eyes close.

You turn around, letting go of Dean’s hands, and immediately drop to your knees without even looking at the intruder. “Lord Eros.” You whisper, head hanging low and eyes glued to the floor.

“At least your manners are still there.” Eros’ words are full of condescendence, and you start to wonder how bad this would actually be.

People were often afraid of Gods like Ares or Hades, but they seemed to forget that love could be crueler than anything else.

“L-lord Eros, please let me explain-”

“Let you explain what, child? Why you killed a harpy, even when it is imperative that Valentines do not attack other Greek creatures? Especially Zeus’ doggies! Or maybe you want to explain why you are hanging around hunters in the first place.” Eros walks close to you, standing in front of where you were still kneeling on the floor. “All for these… boys?” He scoffs.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dean takes a step closer to Eros, trying to reach for his gun. You immediately turn to him and stop him, gripping his wrist with force and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Dean, no.” You beg, hand still on his wrist. He looks at you incredulous, never having seen you so scared. Not when you met your first werewolf, not when you teletransported to a vamp nest by accident, not even when he had pointed his gun at you the first time you met.

You hear Eros snicker. “Get up, child.” You hastily stand up from the ground, hand still wrapped around Dean’s wrist just in case he decides to try something else against the God. “You know I am all for having some fun. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to play a little with these two cuties.” He looks at the brothers up and down, making Dean get even more angry. “But you’re getting too involved, Valentine.”

You gulp, taking in a shaky breath. “My Lord, they helped me kill an Anti-Valentine that was killing people in my zone. On Valentine's day!” You were trying to keep your voice stable, but the weight of Eros’ eyes on you was too much. “They- they got rid of them, so I owed them one. That's the only reason I came to help them today.”

You squeeze Dean’s wrist in what you hope is a message of “I’m lying. Please know I’m lying. I am trying to save our asses, and I probably won’t succeed, but just know that I’m lying.”

“Is that so?” Eros’ eyes study all three of you quickly, and you don’t have the courage to meet Dean’s eyes and know if he got your message.

There was a long moment of silence, and then, “You would think by now you knew better than to lie to a God.”

Your shoulders slump, and your eyes shut down tightly. Dean’s hand tries to move for his gun again, and you stop him once more. 

It won’t work, you want to tell him. He’s a God, you idiot. You’re just going to piss him off even more.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is-” Dean starts, trying to take a step forward. With one simple movement of his hand, Eros glues him to the ground. “What the-?” Dean grunts as he tries to move his feet.

“Not only did you pick a hunter, but a disrespectful one at that?” Eros sighs, looking down at his nails in disappointment. 

“Kiss my-”

“Dean.” I plead again, finally turning around to meet his eyes. 

Please don’t make this worse.

He clenches his jaw but stays quiet, murderous eyes returning to the God in front of us.

“Aw, aren't you two adorable?” Eros asks sarcastically, his inviting smile twisting into something evil. “Now, my dear Valentine. In any other case, you would be dead already. But,” He sighs again, almost as if he regrets not having killed you yet. “I remember when I reaped you. So lonely, so hurt, so… broken.”

Your eyes dart back down to the floor, a shiver running down your spine as the memory you tried to keep at bay for so long comes back to you.

“You would’ve been nothing after what happened if I hadn't reaped you.” His words are cruel, and his voice is patronizing. “I saved you, gave you a new opportunity. And if I have to be honest, you’re one of my favorites. I always did have a soft spot for pathetic and tragic stories.”

Dean fists clench, and you were sure the only thing keeping him from jumping Eros was the fact that he was magically bound to the ground. 

“I know, Lord Eros.” You whisper. “I will always be thankful.”

And in a very sick way, it was true. Greek Gods weren’t famous for their kindness and altruism. They only did things that benefited them, and reaping broken people as Valentines gave Eros a more loyal following. But nonetheless, he had saved you. And you liked being a Valentine, mistreatment aside.

“Well, it sure doesn't look like it!” He laughs. “But I am nothing if not merciful. So, I'll give you a second chance.”

Your eyes immediately dart up, wide and wary. This wasn’t a gift, it was a test.

Eros sends you a smile that makes you feel nauseous, and then he throws something your way. You catch it mid-air, and look down at it. A celestial bronze dagger. Your blood drains from your face.

“Kill them.” Eros says brightly, like he was asking you to try a chocolate from his brand new chocolate box. “I like you, you get the job done correctly. But we can’t have you distracted, so kill them.”

You stare at Eros for a few seconds, breath ragged. The necklace around your neck, the one that contained Eros’ touch, the one that marked you as his, the one that kept you alive, was burning against your skin. 

You slowly turn to Dean, who was already looking at you. His gaze was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes. Trust.

“I’m sorry” You whisper, and Dean’s eyes darken just a little, his brows furrowing. 

You fix your grip on the dagger and get ready, taking one last breath and looking deep into Dean’s eyes. 

I’m sorry.

You swifty thrust your hand upwards, cutting the necklace off in one clean movement. The arrow charm falls to the ground with a clink, the cut-up cord still hanging around your neck.

“Oh, you dumb little girl.” 

Eros sends you one last disgruntled look before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a bright ball of light.

At first you don’t feel anything, and then your knees buckle. 

You start falling forward, and the only reason you don’t end up on the floor is because Dean catches you. 

Dean screams your name, and then he feels like all the air is ripped out of his lungs. Your face, that beautiful, soft face that he had grown to love so much, was cracking. And he meant it literally. Black lines were expanding through your face, fracturing your skin like a broken porcelain doll. 

He says your name with desperation. “W-what- what is happening?” He screams your name again, eyes wild and devastated. “Sammy, we need to do something. She’s- she’s…”

You shake your head softly, feeling the ache of your skin cracking. It was as if the life was being drained out of you. You could barely move, body heavy and eyes stinging. You felt fragile and weak for the first time in ages. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Dean.’ You whisper, your usually pink lips pale and full of black little slits. “I’m sorr-” Your legs give in as the cracks make their way down to the rest of your body. You fold in half as Dean tries to keep you up.

“Bullshit, we’ll find a way. There must be something-” His voice is wet, and when you look up, so are his eyes. You want to comfort him, to tell him everything will be fine. “Come on, stay with me, sweetheart.”

Don’t worry about me. You want to whisper. I love you.

But you can't talk, throat dry and tongue heavy. 

Suddenly, there’s another bright light behind you, and all three of you close your eyes tightly at its intensity. 

Both Sam and Dean look confused, but you know what that light means. A God.

It doesn’t matter that you were about to die, you had been trained for years to be respectful of Gods. It wasn’t even devotion, it was survival. Greek gods liked being respected, they liked obedience, and they liked to be flattered. Get on their bad side, and you’ll find yourself like Arachne or Medusa or Narcissus. 

With your last bit of strength, you turn around in Dean’s grasp. You try to drop to your knees, but Dean’s arms around you keep you up. 

“Dean…” You whisper, voice dry and raw, skin still cracking. You try to kneel again, but he easily fights your weak attempts.

“Stop, sweetheart. Stop. You’re hurt.” He argues, voice shaky. He couldn’t believe the power these creatures had over you. Dean understood they were Gods, but the sight of you, breaking and dying, still trying to kneel for anyone made him almost blind with rage.

“He’s right, child. You’re going to hurt yourself even more.” Oh, you knew that voice.

Shivering with another wave of pain, you look up.

“Lady Aphrodite.” Your breath hitches. The times you had been in the presence of the Goddess of love had been scarce, but it managed to leave you breathless every single one. 

Sam’s and Dean’s eyes widen. Lady who?

They were sure this would be an easy werewolf hunt, what the fuck had they gotten themselves into?

The almost absurdly beautiful woman walks closer to you, and the air seems to shift around her, her dress made of something that looked like rose petals and clouds at the same time.

“Oh child, you’ve gotten yourself into quite some trouble.” Aphrodite says, looking down at you with eyes that tried but didn’t quite achieve empathy.

Dean’s arms tighten around you, pressing you to his chest as you start to feel even weaker. The action seemed to amuse the Goddess, and she gives everyone a cheerful smile that no one reciprocates. 

“L-lady Aphrodite, it is an honor-” You try muttering, but it only causes you to go into a coughing fit. 

“Don’t talk, child.” She orders, and you shut your mouth. “You’ve really pissed off my son, Valentine.”

“Son?” Dean asks, wary eyes still on the goddess. Oh gods, you need to give him a Greek mythology 101 class as soon as possible.

Except you are actively dying, so there would be no “soon as possible”.

Aphrodite just sends Dean an incredulous look, and I get prepared to beg for her forgiveness in case Dean had offended her. The Winchester brothers already had enough on their plate without pissing off a Greek god.

“Eros. I-I mean Lord Eros.” Sam comes to our rescue, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulders that meant shut the fuck up, dude. “He’s your son, yours and A- Lord Ares.”

“It is refreshing to see a mortal that isn’t so ignorant.” The Goddess sends Sam a satisfied look, her eyes scanning him up and down. Sam squirms under her gaze, and if you weren’t currently about to come undone like a vase that was carelessly dropped to the floor, you would laugh. 

The comment just makes Dean more pissed off, but it looks like he learned from his encounter with Eros, because he doesn’t try to attack the Goddess.

Thank Gods.

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about my family tree.” Aphrodite’s dart back to you, still pressed against Dean’s chest and cracking slowly but surely. “I came here for you.”

You frown. You think about everything you’ve ever done, trying to remember if you had ever offended the Goddess enough for her to come searching for revenge on your last minutes of existence. But the look in her eyes is as soft as a God’s eyes get, and she looks almost… not sad, because Gods didn’t care enough about mortals to be sad, but something similar. 

“You know, I love a good story. Drama, tragedy, passion.” She sighs, voice dreamy as if everyone else in the room wasn’t in despair. “But love stories are so boring these days! Lovers don’t die for each other like they used to.” She shakes her head disappointedly. “If I had to watch one more man cheat with the babysitter, I was going to send in a new plague.”

All the mortals in the room shiver at her words, but Aphrodite looked as if she had just said she was going to punch a wall, not kill half the population. 

“Wait, does that mean you Gods watch us? Our lives?” Dean is frowning, an uncomfortable sensation crawling up his spine at the idea.

“Just the interesting ones.” Aphrodite makes a dismissive movement with her hand. “I was never too interested in hunters. You all are so emotionally unavailable, it is boring.” She huffs. “But you, little valentine. You have potential.”

There was no way that could be good.

“I see love, and passion, and so much tragedy!” She squeaks. 

Oh, right. Great, thank you.

Everyone in the room stares at the Goddess in disbelief, mouths parted and eyes wide. The silence is only broken when you groan again, curling in on yourself as a wave of pain washes over you. 

Aphrodite grabs your face, and it hurts. Your skin is almost completely cracked, the crevasses getting deeper and deeper, but you swallow your whine. “I can save you, child.”

Dean immediately seems to relax a bit, but you don’t. Because “miracles” like this never came for free. Gods always thought about themselves first, and you couldn’t think of what Aphrodite could ask in exchange to save your life.

“Y-you can? Please, we’ll do whatever-” You interrupt Dean before he promises something like that to a God.

“W-wait, Dean.” you cough, tongue almost black with how drained of color you were, throat feeling dusty. You were actually going to break like a porcelain doll. “What’s the catch?”

Aphrodite laughs, seemingly amused by your question. She lets go of your face and brushes her hair off her shoulder.

“Not much, really.” She exclaims graciously, a perfect smile on her perfect face. “You just gotta give me a good story!”

The room is silent again, not a cricket in the distance. You all stare at her, no one really knowing what she meant.

“Oh, come on!” She pouts. “I told you, you have potential. Give me drama, give me tragedy, give me heart-wrenching angst and tear-worth romance!”

Right, because that was so easy. You were pretty sure love wasn't in the cards for you. There’s only so much time you can spend watching everyone else fall in love while being alone until you start to get convinced you are, indeed, unloveable.

Something on your face must give away your thoughts, or maybe Gods could read minds. You weren’t sure. Whatever it was, it made Aphrodite grin. “That’s what I'm talking about! The good old tropes.”

“Whatever.” Dean grunts, feeling the way your body becomes heavier on his arms. “She’ll do it, just- save her. Please.”

Aphrodite's grin widens, seemingly pleased with what she is hearing. She presses a finger to your forehead, and a wave of warmth runs through your ice-cold body. The cracks on your skin start to close, and the vitality of life slowly comes back to you. 

“Remember, child. A good story.” And in a bright ball of light, the Goddess disappears. 

In a second, you were as good as new. You start to straighten up in Dean’s hold, his arms sliding off your body once you regain your footing. You look down at your arms and legs, free of cracks. 

You quickly look up at Dean, who was looking at you with glossy, relieved eyes. Your heart starts to beat faster. You had accepted the fact that you had to die, because if it was in between Dean or you, the answer would always be you. But now, staring at Sam’s and Dean’s broken expressions, you're grateful you didn’t die.

I’ll have to do so many thank-you offerings.

You push away the thought and instead jump forward, pulling both Sam and Dean in for a hug.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Dean grunts, subtly burying his face on your hair. It smelled the same as always. Caramel and marshmallows. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again.”

Sam chuckles, nodding. He takes a step back first, but Dean’s arms stay around you for a moment longer. His arms around your waist are unyielding and almost desperate, and you hug him back almost as firmly. 

He finally seems to get a grip on himself and takes a step back. His eyes were still a little wild, but his grin was that same caring, playful one you loved so much.

“You’re okay.” He sighs, almost more for himself than anyone else.

“Yeah.” You take in a deep breath, trying to understand what has happened. “I mean- I don’t know what happened to my powers. I can still see auras but I don’t think I can create a meeting anymore, the part of them that told me if they were compatible with someone else is gone.” I squint at Sam, trying to read his aura correctly. “I don’t know if I can teleport or heal you guys anymore. And I can’t tell if my archery abilities were mine or I had them because of being a Valentine. I don’t even know if I still can read ancient Greek.” 

As you start panicking a little, stumbling with your words as you rant, Sam and Dean share an endeared look.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes meet yours, and the warmth in them makes your breath slow down a bit. 

Green might just be your new favorite color.

“Yeah, we have plenty of time to figure out what happened.” Sam offers you a gentle smile, and you slowly return it. “Let’s go celebrate at a bar, first round’s on me.”

Sam is right. Nothing else matters, because you are alive, and you have your boys by your side. Whatever had happened, you three would figure it out.

“There’s something else.” You say suddenly, looking up at the brothers with your shiny, big doe eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Like- I don't have a home, or somewhere to stay.”

Sam and Dean share another look, silently having a conversation as your eyes dart in between them, trying to understand what was happening. 

“I think we have a solution for that.” Sam turns to you with a little smirk.

“How would you like to come live with us, sweetheart?”

[theamarischapter]

Conquering Cupid ➳❥

a/n: beomgyu isn't technically cupid exactly, but he's a love fairy! i wanted to write something for valentine's day and this idea came to me when i was, funnily enough, playing the dti (roblox) valentine's day quest LOL. also kinda inspired by royale high... anyway, hope you guys like it! i was literally fighting for my life to finish this semi-on time... happy valentines day! <3

pairing: fairy!beomgyu x fairy!reader

w/c: 4.3k

genre: fluff, fantasy au (a magic academy), one-shot, strangers/acquaintances to lovers, (past) heartbreak

warnings: beomgyu is a stubborn idiot, not proofread b/c im lazy

summary: the love fairy, a charming but mischievous boy, seems to avoid love at all costs, leading you on a mission to capture his heart and uncover the mystery. the closer you get, the more he pulls away—ironic, isn't it? a love fairy who "despises" love.

fic below the cut! enjoy <3

All love fairies take pride in who they are—to gift love is a magical and honorable responsibility. But one particular love fairy seems to disagree: Beomgyu. 

Perhaps you’re overthinking it, but it’s hard to ignore the way he actively avoids love. He dodges affection like an arrow gone astray, charming yet distant, admired yet untouched. You, for example, have spent an embarrassing amount of time admiring from afar, which is how you’ve come to notice this odd behavior—the way he dodges using his spells and magic, steering clear of anything love-related. 

But why? 

Well, naturally, it’s now your duty to do the impossible—love the unlovable, and beat the love fairy at his own game. 

✧༺🩷༻✧

Step 1: Befriend him 

It should be a simple task, right? He’s already quite outgoing and friendly—easy to approach, easy to talk to. You’re sure he has plenty of friends, so what’s one more? 

Besides, fate seems to be rooting for you. The dean—Mrs. Elderose—personally requested that you tutor the boy. It’s a perfect opening to get to know him and hang out alone, where he feels less pressured to uphold a facade of upbeat charm. The only problem? He’s already ten minutes late. Your leg bounces incessantly beneath the table, fingers idly fidgeting with the sleeve of your jacket. Your eyes periodically glance around the vast school library, where towering bookshelves line the walls and warm lights hang from the domed ceiling, illuminating the golden engravings on each book. Hushed voices blend with the gentle flutter of wings, barely audible beneath the whisper of a calm breeze, which reaches you through the slightly ajar window to your right. Carrying the crisp scent of pine, it drifts in from the endless woodland beyond. Your gaze lingers there, admiring the warm hues of the sunset sky as they color the landscape. Beomgyu still has yet to arrive.You should’ve known he’d skip. With a resigned sigh, your hands move to pack up the scattered pencils and notebooks you had out. Just as you’re haphazardly stuffing your bag with the first notebook, a teasing voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“What’s the rush? Waiting for someone?” Beomgyu’s bright expression comes into view as you turn your head towards his voice. He’s smirking, one corner of his lips tilted upwards as his deep brown eyes, hidden behind light bangs, gleam with mischief. “Honestly, I wasn’t gonna show up—but Mrs. Elderose dragged me here after she saw me trying to leave.”

You offer a laugh, purely out of awkward pity. Honestly, you’re not that amused. He just told you to your face that he doesn’t want to be here. Then again, you can’t really blame him. If the dean forced you to get tutoring, you wouldn’t be very eager either.

“Well…I’m glad you made it.” You smile, and for a moment his expression falters. His smirk falls; he looks almost surprised by how earnest you sound. Subconsciously, he’d assumed you were as unwilling as he was to be here in the library. But it seems you feel the opposite way—you want to be around him.  It shouldn’t be such a revolutionary idea—there are plenty of people who like having him around. So, what’s with the weird warmth spreading through his chest at your comment? Why is he happy that you want him around? He doesn’t even know you yet, but he feels drawn to you in a familiar, unreasonable way—one he refuses to acknowledge... He won’t hurt himself again. 

“You shouldn’t be.” He mutters, huffing out a small laugh in an attempt to regain his composure. Usually, he has more control over himself, but his defenses seem to naturally crumble at your genuine compassion. With a quiet breath, he plops into the seat beside you, slouching. “I’m a waste of time.”

You frown, head tilting to the side. Beneath the layers of playfulness, you sense something genuine in his statement. “I disagree.” You say quietly, opening one of your notebooks. “I mean—I wouldn’t be here if that were true.”

“You’ll see soon. I have no intention of improving, anyway.” He replies, looking away from you. There’s a thoughtful expression on his face, his gaze captivated by the smooth, dark wooden table. You’re tempted to outright ask all of your questions, but refrain—there’s no rush. 

Love requires patience. 

✧༺🩷༻✧

Step 2: Carefully get closer; earn his trust 

So far, you’ve barely scratched the surface. Just when you think you’ve made progress, he pulls away—always with a laugh, a joke to distract from any real emotion that leaked out. At the very least, he shows up to every tutoring session and occasionally says hello if he sees you in the halls. You’re friendly, but not quite friends. And he has no intention of changing that. 

“You did it!” You exclaim cheerfully, standing beside him. The gentle breeze flows through your hair, bright strands of grass beneath your leather boots. The outdoors, naturally a suitable place to practice spells. You’ve been focusing on the basics with him—specifically levitation since it’s a simple but useful tool to have. Your eyes admire the pretty rose floating in front of him, its smooth petals matching the faint pink hue of his cheeks. 

“It was luck,” he mutters. He frowns at the sight of his accomplishment, arms crossing as the rose drops to the floor—except, you never even taught him how to undo the spell, he just…did. Perhaps it was just something natural; he didn’t necessarily need your guidance for something as simple as that…right? You shouldn’t overthink it.

“Luck or not, it’s an improvement.” You smile, bending down to pick up the rose. A dumb idea comes to mind, but you don’t bother to stop it. Maybe if you’re straightforward he’ll be more willing to try and open up. You hold the rose to him, looking into his deep, sparkling eyes. “How about we celebrate? Are you hungry?”

His fingers brush yours as he takes the flower, the touch fleeting but warm. It lingers longer than it should, even as he quickly clears his throat, looking away from you. It takes him a second too long to find his words. “I…um, I don’t have money—“

“It’s okay! I can pay.” You reply enthusiastically, collecting your things. His lips part, but no words come out. Instead, he just stares, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He doesn’t understand what you want, why you’re even here. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it—he’s not allowed to run away this time. “C’mon, let’s go.”

When you stare at him expectantly with those big, pretty eyes, how could he decline? He’d hate to see disappointment in your gaze, so he nods mutely, diverting his attention to the flower cradled delicately between his fingers. Just this once, he’ll allow his heart to win. 

✧༺🩷༻✧

You sit across from him in the school cafe, a dark wooden table between you. Warm light reflects down from the ceiling, casting soft shadows over his smooth, pale skin. His fingers trace his warm cup of cocoa absentmindedly, the warmth spreading through his fingertips. 

“I’m proud of you, Beomgyu. I think you’ll do really well on our next evaluation.” Your voice is gentle, a sincere, soft smile on your lips—which he finds himself staring at. Get it together, Beomgyu. When he finally processes your words, he straightens his posture, ears heating up and wings fluttering—a telltale sign of his apprehension. 

“Um, yeah. Me too.” He mumbles. What’s wrong with him? He’s normally so outgoing, but now the words are all tangling together in his mouth—even in his brain, it’s a jumbled, confusing mess. His heart stutters, a wild, erratic rhythm that refuses to settle. Each breath comes faster, shallower, like his body is betraying him. This isn’t normal. This isn’t fair. He hates this feeling—this infatuation, this longing. It never ends well. “I mean, I'll do better, at least.” 

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath, the rapid thumps of his heart calming. He manages to smile, fingers tapping restlessly against the table even as he huffs out a small laugh. “Maybe my charm will get me a few extra points.” 

You scoff, chuckling and shaking your head. Your eyebrows furrow, and you lift your iced coffee to take a small sip. You hum in thought, leaning over the table, closer to him. “Have more confidence! Mrs. Elderose is keeping you here for a reason. There’s potential.” 

He raises an eyebrow, rolling his eyes. His elbows rest on the table, head leaning on the palm of his hand as he feigns nonchalance. His gaze travels through the space, lingering on the warm cup of cocoa in front of him instead of you. “Tch, yeah—potential failure.” 

“Are you saying I’m a bad teacher?” You joke, gaze carefully observing him. You’re searching beneath the surface, through the cracks of his carefully upheld persona. Behind every smile, every laugh, and every joke, is a quiet, insecure boy—at least, that’s what you’ve deduced thus far. There are always other reasons he may feel the need to downplay his talent. 

“Wh—no! You’re great. But, like, I’m just saying…” He refutes quickly, his pale hair bouncing as he frantically shakes his head. He’s wide-eyed, a small pout forming on his lips, as if he’s upset you would accuse him of something so horrific. You’re not a bad teacher at all; you’re smart, patient, encouraging, pretty…um, wait, never mind that last one. The point is, he’s actually learned a lot from you, and he’d hate to make you feel bad. 

“Right…saying what? That you hate me and you learned nothing?” You ask, teasing him further, even if only to see the flustered expression on his face. It’s also a good tactic for getting him to admit how he feels if he feels anything. 

“Hey, that’s not fair! You’re putting words in my mouth!” He defends, almost whining, before huffing out a short breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, pretty eyes focused on you with a helpless plead to stop this defamation of his character!

“You didn’t deny it? Wow, I’m offended.” You continue, and he sits up straight, hands slamming onto the thick table. Heads turn, all eyes on you both for just a brief moment before the audience loses interest. His ears are a bright shade of pink, his wings twitching. 

“Stop—“ He attempts to defend, but you’re quick to cut in. He can feel butterflies swirling around in his stomach, and he hates it. He hates you for making him feel this way. 

“I mean, really, I thought we got along pretty well. But I guess I was wrong—“ You’re exaggerating, of course, faking a frown as you place a hand over your heart in offense. He’s had enough. 

 “I like you, okay?” His mouth moves faster than his brain, desperate to prove you wrong. For what reason? Because, well, he can’t stomach the thought of you not liking him, of you thinking he doesn’t like you. Once he realizes what he’s said, he freezes, wings twitching so violently behind him that the table shakes just a little. His hands clench into fists in an attempt to comfort himself. Stupid. That was so stupid. His heart beats rapidly against his ribcage, and the heat crawling up his neck makes it impossible to pretend he’s unaffected.

“Geez,” he mutters, slouching, arms crossing over his chest. “Can’t a guy be self-deprecating every once in a while?” His voice is quieter now, more grumbled than spoken. He fixes his gaze on the untouched cup of cocoa in front of him as he contemplates his life choices. He risks a glance at you, just for a second. You’re smiling. It’s small, just a slight curve of your lips, but paired with the faint pink hue on your cheeks, it’s enough to make his chest squeeze uncomfortably tight. 

“N-Not like that!” He blurts, practically whining as he sits up. His wings flutter again—another traitorous giveaway. He swears under his breath. “You know what I meant.”

 “Do I?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence, though there’s a teasing glint in your eyes. He likes you. Your smile widens at the thought, meanwhile, his pout deepens. He looks cute like that, you think. Maybe you don’t mind upsetting him every once in a while.

✧༺🩷༻✧

Evaluation day arrives fast. Too fast. 

You should be excited—it’s your moment to prove yourself again and make your parents proud. And you are, sort of. But your focus keeps drifting to Beomgyu. He stands a few feet away, looking awfully comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who’s flunked every evaluation before this. He sighs, stretching his arms lazily as if he couldn’t care less about any of this. Everyone else is shifting anxiously in place, wings twitching, fingers fidgeting with their sleeves. Chatter fills the arena, students laughing and joking about how screwed they might be. Your gaze catches his, and for a moment, there’s something, a small glimmer in his eyes—regret. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual, careless smile and a small nod as you part ways. 

The results are posted the next day. Your name is at the top where it always is, but it’s his name that catches your eye. Your stomach knots when you find it. Choi Beomgyu. Dead last. Again. It makes no sense. You trained for hours and rewarded his immense improvement. He should’ve passed—or, at the very least, passed any of the subjects with a grade higher than a D. But this…? Your hands tighten at your sides, your heart sinking into your stomach. There’s only one explanation; he’s been failing all of these things on purpose. The realization hits you like a wave of cold air, stealing the breath from your lungs. You should’ve known. He literally warned you that he was a “waste of time.” He told you he had “no intention of improving.” You just didn’t believe him—you figured he was just insecure. But now, staring at his name at the very bottom of the list, you’re left with only one question: Why?

You manage to speak to a friend of his: Kang Taehyun, a reserved but kind classmate of yours. You catch him as he’s heading to the dormitory. 

“I need to talk to you.” You say, getting straight to the point. 

He frowns, barely reacting to your statement. “About?” 

“Beomgyu. He’s been failing on purpose, right?” You reply. He sighs, taking a step back and crossing his arms. He doesn’t look all too impressed, in fact, he looks tired of the conversation already. It’s not that he’s mean, he just cares about Beomgyu a lot. 

“If you already know, then why are you asking me?” He asks, gaze scrutinizing you, searching for any hint of malicious intent in your posture, expression, or tone.

“Well, I just don’t get why. But, I figured you would know.” He hums in thought, head tilting to the side, expression still unchanging. 

“And why do you need to know?” 

Your mouth opens, then closes—you hadn’t thought that far. Somehow, you figured he might just come out and tell you, for some reason. You thought he’d sense your earnest desire to help. Instead, it almost feels like you’re on trial, as if he’s searching for any reason to withhold the information from you. 

“I want to help.” You finally say. He’s still staring at you, waiting for something more. “Please.” 

He hesitates, mulling it over. There’s a hint of reluctance in his gaze, but it’s not because of you. It’s because of Beomgyu. He knows his friend, and he knows that he’s never going to explain himself. He won’t stop being stubborn, and his self-sabotage is going to get him expelled sooner or later. Taehyun exhales, nodding slowly. 

✧༺🩷༻✧

The story goes something like this: 

Beomgyu was young when he fell in love for the first time—with a girl named Arielle. From the moment he first met her, the feelings surged all at once, like an unrelenting tide swallowing him whole She had an aura that attracted people effortlessly—someone you wanted to be around, hold onto and never let go of. 

She was a natural beauty, her long, sleek hair framing her round, delicate features. Her wide eyes shimmered with warmth, as if she constantly saw the best in everyone. When her eyes fell on him, the world quieted. Beomgyu could breathe. He could exist without effort, without overthinking. Her gaze alone felt like the sun shining down on him. But the deeper he fell, the more suffocating it became—it felt as though he’d been trapped in a self-imposed prison. Someone as great as her, as perfect as her, could never be with someone like him. And sure, he’s a love fairy—he could have used magic to draw her closer. But Beomgyu was stubborn. He wanted love to come naturally. He craved authentic attraction—and, magic was never his strong suit, anyway. So he waited. 

He became her shadow, her anchor. He caught her when she stumbled, offered his heart with both hands—without hesitation, without expecting anything in return. And she took, and took, and took, but never gave. Of course, it’s not like she owed him anything—he did everything willingly, but it still hurt. He devoted himself to her, promised to wait until she was ready, but she couldn’t return the favor. Even as a friend, she couldn’t lend him an ear nor comfort him on his shortcomings. She couldn’t make time for him, couldn’t lend a helping hand. Beomgyu eventually got fed up and finally stood up for himself—and that’s when she crushed everything to pieces. 

She took his heart from his chest, cradled it in her delicate hands, and then trampled it. She turned his fantasy of love into a nightmare, showed him how cruel it could be. To her, he was nothing but a tool to be used. She never really wanted him—no, she wanted someone to fuel her craving for love and attention. And when she got bored? He wasn’t useful anymore, so she discarded him like a piece of trash, told him he was “a waste of time,” even though she was the one who’d failed the relationship.

He hasn’t been the same since. Love became a distorted concept, a reminder of his inadequacy. He hated himself for who he was, who he failed to be. His trust was taken and demolished, so now he hides. He hides from himself, from everything that reminds him of her—everything related to love. He’s a love fairy who’s afraid to love, unable to trust. 

And, most importantly, he imposes failure on himself because he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to hide forever, wants to forget that who he is—a love fairy—is what he hates. And yet, in the quiet corners of his mind, he still feels her warmth, like an old scar that never fully fades.

✧༺🩷 ༻✧

Beomgyu has been a ghost in your life. He’s carefully kept his distance, looking the other way when you’re near, taking the scenic route to class just to avoid crossing shadows. He ignores the pull in his heart, the tightness in his chest that threatens to consume him. The feelings come uninvited—fluttering in his stomach, warmth creeping up his neck, his heart stuttering out of rhythm. And then, just as quickly, the fear swallows him whole. Each sensation is followed by swift dread, nausea, and guilt. He tells himself he shouldn’t feel this way, that he has no right to. But deep down, he knows the truth: he’s just afraid. His heart pounds against his ribcage, breaths quickening at even the thought of surrendering his heart once more. He can’t. He won’t. In the end, the only one he trusts with his heart is himself.

You manage to corner him with the help of Taehyun, who brings him along to the school garden. You sit on the edge of the marble fountain, tracing your fingers along the cool surface. The clear water glistens in the warmth of the sun, birds chirping in the distance as the bushes rustle in the cool breeze. If you focus, you can hear faint footsteps, coming from nearby within the maze of flowers and greenery. A movement catches your eye. From between two towering bushes, Beomgyu steps into view, his presence sending a ripple through the stillness. Taehyun, who’s close behind him, gives a nod of encouragement before nudging Beomgyu toward you. 

Your eyes connect and time stops. His light hair brushes across his face, confusion and apprehension flickering across his face as his eyebrows draw together. His lips part wordlessly, chest rising and falling rapidly with each quick, shallow breath. He’s suffocating once more, his lungs straining against an invisible force. His chest tightens, each heartbeat sharp and unrelenting. He stumbles back, fingers searching for something solid, something real. But nothing feels real—not the warmth of the sun, not the garden around him, not even himself. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to face his feelings so head-on. 

“Beomgyu, can we talk?” Your voice pierces the silence, gentle but unwavering. He flinches, his gaze darting anywhere but you, as if doing so will make you disappear. You press onward, calming your own rapid heartbeat. You just need to connect, reach deeper into his fragile heart. “I- I know why you’re…afraid. Why you won’t use your magic.”

You risk a step forward, holding a flower to him. His eyes flicker with suspicion, scanning your expression like a wary animal expecting a trap. He’s looking for deception, for cruelty, for any sign that history is repeating itself. But all he finds is sincerity. He lifts a hand, feet dragging quietly against the stone path. He steals another glance at you—you have the same, patient expression, encouraging him to continue. His hand hovers over the flower, hanging there for a few moments. There’s a lump in his throat, an invisible barrier that prevents him from moving forward. His fingers brush yours, and he pulls his hand back, as though the touch burned. His hand falls limp at his side, chest heaving with a shaky exhale.

“Beomgyu.” You say gently, afraid to scare him away. It’s a miracle he’s still standing in front of you, at least willing to listen. His gaze finds yours, urging you to continue. “You, of all people, should know how precious love is.”

His eyes burn, chest tight and lungs burning. He manages to speak. “It’s not precious. It never ends well—everyone always gets hurt. I’ve seen it.”

Which, is admittedly true. It’s only natural that a love fairy would have seen the most love, and thus the most heartbreak, too. He’s seen the beauty and the raw, ugly flaws. But he focuses on the bad because it’s what has affected him most profoundly. 

“Doesn’t that make it more precious?” You reply, risking a small step closer. “If everyone had it, it wouldn’t be special anymore.” 

Tears pool in his eyes, a few spilling over as his bottom lip trembles. He’s showing you his heart now, no longer suppressing the emotions clashing together in his chest. Gently, you take his hand, and he squeezes, lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Heartbreak is not a downside to love, it is a representation of love. To have loved fully is to grieve deeply. People love—and continue to love—despite knowing the risks. Because love is a gift to yourself and the people around you.” You cup his face gently with your other hand, swiping away the hot tears streaming down his face. He says nothing and everything at the same time. His gaze holds an indecipherable appreciation—perhaps, an admiration of how beautiful you are physically and emotionally. 

“I really, really like you. So give me a chance to love you, Beomgyu. I’ll give you my heart, so long as you trust me with yours in return.” You whisper. He nods, sniffling quietly as he stares into your gentle, caring gaze. The emotions consume him without permission, a surge of warmth flowing through his chest, heat creeping onto his cheeks. 

“I- um, I mean…I like you. Too—a lot.” He mumbles, still struggling to express himself confidently. He squeezes your hand, thumb running absentmindedly over your smooth skin. “I mean, I have for a while I just- well, it wasn’t supposed to come out like that—”

Your lips are on his before he can even recognize what’s happening. When he does, his brain stutters, his body locks up, breath hitching. His mind blanks—static where there should be panic. Idiot, what is he doing? You’re pulling away before he gets a chance to explore this new, exciting feeling. His free hand finds your hip, pulling you closer and kissing you again, allowing himself to melt into it this time. Time comes to a stop, as if it’s just you two. Your lips are soft, careful not to overwhelm him. His brain is quiet for once, the space filled the whisper of a quiet breeze. How could he have deprived himself of this for so long? 

Slowly, hesitantly, he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. His wings flutter eagerly, like a puppy’s tail after receiving a treat. He brings both arms around you, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt to make sure you’re real. His cheeks are impossibly pink, face burning as he hides it in the crook of your neck. 

“Thank you. I’m sorry for being an idiot.” He mumbles. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head and pressing your cheek to his silky hair. 

“It’s okay, it made it more interesting.” You whisper. He breathes out an amused huff, his grip around you tightening imperceptibly—as if to claim you. 

Looks like you’ve won this round. The love fairy who feared love—who ran from it, who buried his own heart—has given his heart to you. Your fallen cupid wasn’t unlovable after all. He just needed the right person to believe in him.

a/n: okay so i was supposed to release this ON valentine’s day but im a lil late…um, anyways! i got this idea and thought it would be cute, i hope you all liked it!! and dw im still working on my other fic for those wondering, i just wanted to do smt special for valentine’s day (even if i stressed myself out trying to finish this 💀). comments, likes, and reblogs greatly appreciated!! xoxo

[honeyryewhiskey]

snowangel

or, it's the first snowfall of the season, of course you're gunna wake up dean to enjoy the weather with you cw!!  fluff — grumpyxsunshine play in the snow 700 words

what was a deep, much needed, drool-on-the-pillow kind of sleep, was abruptly shattered by the loud smack of dean’s bedroom door hitting the wall. 

“dean!” you shriek, slippers shuffling across the room as you close in on him. he let out a confused groan, rolling onto his back still half asleep.

with a grin as bright as the light of god, you climb on top of dean, clumsily straddling him your hands find his bare, warm shoulders, eagerly shaking you persist, “wake up! wake up!” 

a pair of calloused hands shot up from beneath the blanket, gripping your waist with a firm but reluctant hold. his voice came out gravelly, thick with the remnants of sleep. 

“lovebird,” he warns, not even bothering to open his eyes, “get off.”

his discomfort goes over your head, the glint of stubbornness in your eyes intensifying. even when he cracked one green eye open, sporting that callous dean winchester glare with enough force to stop anyone else in their tracks, you held your ground.

 “only if you get up. now!” you pout. 

“what? no, why?” he groaned again, shifting in feeble attempt to shake you loose, “you need to get off-”

“it’s snowing!” you cut him off, unable to contain the buzz of excitement.

 that caught his attention, but not in the way you’d hoped. His face went blank, utterly unimpressed. “and?”

“and?!” you repeat, aghast. “i’ve never seen snow before! like, ever! and it’s outside, right now, and there's so much!”

dean blinked slowly, his brain clearly still processing the world through a haze of exhaustion. “so... you decided the best way to tell me that was... this?”

“yes!” you nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in place. “we have to go see it before it stops, dean, please.” you plead, your lips puffing into a pout that catches the attention of those hazy green eyes. 

he groaned again, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “love, snow doesn’t just stop. It’s probably not even light out yet—”

“so?!” 

dean sighed, his lips twitching upward despite himself. he wasn’t going to win this battle, not when you were practically vibrating with excitement above him.

“fine,” he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep as he pulled the blanket over his head. “Give me five minutes.”

“two,” you countered, tugging the blanket back down.

“three,” he said through a yawn.

you beamed, “deal.”

 ➹

 “this is called a what?!” you shout, sprawled on the snowy ground, your voice carrying up to where dean looms over you with that ever-present air of casual authority.

“a snow angel,” he says again, lips twitching with amusement as he crouches slightly to watch your every move.

the cold nips at your exposed cheeks, but it’s barely noticeable beneath the heavy weight of dean’s leather jacket draped over you like armor. he hadn’t let you step foot outside without it, brushing off your protests about how a cupid like you didn’t need protection from the cold. now, though, you don’t mind being wrapped in his smell.

“now flap your arms and legs,” he instructs, gesturing with his own hands to show you how it’s done.

with a mix of skepticism and intrigue, you do as you’re told, sweeping the snow with your limbs. The soft crunch beneath you is oddly satisfying, and your nose scrunches as snowflakes land, cool and ticklish, against your cheeks and lashes.

“like this?” you chirp, breaking into giggles. the sound is bright, unrestrained, and it makes dean chuckle low in his chest.

“yeah,” his green eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins down at you. “just like that, lovebird.”

there’s something in his tone, warm and proud, that makes your heart stutter for a moment. you glance up at him, still lying in your makeshift angel, and catch the way he’s looking at you—soft and unguarded, a stark difference from his usual grump attitude, staring like he’s not quite sure what to make of you.

“did i do good?” you ask hopefully, sweeping your arms one more time for good measure.

he smirks, holding out a hand to help you up. “not bad. now c’mon, let’s make some snowballs to wake up sammy with.”

[ultravi0lence14]

CUPID’S HEART SHAPED BOX

CUPID!READER. . . AKA LOVIE

roses. angel food cake. pink & white. lace and bows. satin. archery. born on valentine’s day. love letters. red velvet. romcoms. pink blush. romance novels. glittery wings. victoria’s secret angel. slip dresses. loose curls. cherries.

LOVIE’S LOVE LETTERS

crimson and cupid

soft lace & daisy chains

TAGS: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @haunteres @figthoughts @sunsbaby @deanangel @beausling @florchids @deanswidow @honeyryewhiskey @h8aaz @dulcescorderitas @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess @flow33didontsmoke @s0urw00lf

NAT BABBLES: YAY CUPID READER!!! shoutout to my sweethearts bree and dolly for helping me with the layout💗 my actual princess’ i love you both so much.

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 02

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 13k

╰─▸ ❝ chapter 3

a/n: this took me forever i'm so sorry :((( but writer's block has been an actual bitch. there's no warnings for this chapter, just some making out and a bunch of cursing!! it's a longer one, so get comfy before reading and enjoy <3<3 please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts!

You weren’t the most extroverted person out there but you did love attending a good party, especially one arranged by your best friends. Chris and Jisung along with Changbin, the third member of their music group, were notorious for throwing the best parties around campus, extravagant, with good booze, music, and unmatchable atmosphere.

They were in charge of throwing the first party of the year, which was taking place tonight, a mere week after school started. This particular party was a yearly event, a shared effort from both the music and dance departments, which longed for more opportunities to collaborate.

You remember the first time you attended it like it was yesterday.

Wide eyed and oh so excited about experiencing the full university package, with your newfound independence and your friends by your side, this party was the biggest letdown of the year. Thrown at a random fraternity on campus, it was a proper snooze fest, with a barely working disco ball that looked like it could collapse any moment, and a few balloons that were supposed to make the surroundings look less depressing. Last minute decorations the seniors decided to throw together so the freshmen wouldn’t complain about their lack of involvement and get them in trouble with the deans.

It sucked – plain and simple, and that’s when you decided to never attend this party for as long as you still had to set foot on this campus. That is until Changbin came up with a great plan to help the disinterested seniors and have some fun.

3racha would cover all the expenses, from drinks, music, and venue, as long as they were given liberty to do as they pleased, after promising to make this event the talk of campus and have the other departments turn green with envy. As expected, the two representatives were more than happy to comply, agreeing eagerly. Less work for them meant another responsibility lifted off their shoulders and more time to breathe and prepare for graduation without having to think about any snot-nosed juniors.

In their care, the embarrassing event that was only ever attended by naïve freshmen who didn’t know any better blossomed into the most anticipated day of the year not only by the two departments but by several others from the other side of the campus. Last year’s party exceeded all expectations, so legendary that it was still talked about throughout the whole year, the people who attended bragging about it to anyone who’d listen. And you had to agree – they managed to throw a party straight out of a scene from The Great Gatsby, with a theme oh so very fitting for the occasion.

Yes, theme, because they deemed it necessary for some unknown reason. Artsy people were strange like that, Seohyun often said. All you could do was agree and try not to take offense for being one of these people.

Anyway, everyone was excited, restlessly counting down the days until the three musketeers would return to the party scene and offer them a night to remember. Everyone but you.

“So, what’s the theme for this year?” Seohyun asks, lounging on the couch with a small bag of gummy bears by her side. The four of you were currently next door, at Jisung and Chris’ place, watching the guys run around to get ready for their party. They were the hosts, after all, it was normal to arrive as fashionably late as possible.

“The 70’s!” Jisung yells from the bathroom, still struggling with his makeup. Chris hasn’t come out of his room yet.

Seohyun shoots you an unimpressed look, stealing some of your chips. “Isn’t this just a glorified Halloween party?”

You hear him mumble under his breath, most likely rolling his eyes in exasperation before he appears before you with a slight pout on his full lips. “A little help, please?”

He was dressed in a silky, sequin shirt with matching golden boots, partially obscured by black, bell bottom pants that fitted him to perfection. In his hand is an eyeliner pen you grab to help with his predicament.

“Sit, Ji.”

Jisung nods and takes a seat on the couch’s arm, by Seohyun’s feet, so you can gently start applying his eyeliner.

“For your information, everyone loves our parties and how fun having a theme makes them.” His eyes are closed but as expected, he’s not letting Seohyun have the last word.

She snorts, throwing a chip at his back. “I don’t.”

“Because you’ve never been to one nor were you ever invited.” He huffs, trying to keep still so you won’t mess up.

“Don’t be mean.” You squeeze the bridge of his nose in warning, before glaring in Seohyun’s direction, the statement meant for them both. “I asked her to come with, last year.”

Not like she needed an invitation to begin with. What started as an event only for the two departments, quickly became a party for the whole campus once 3racha took the reins. Everyone was more than welcome to come and have fun, create memories, and live the full university experience.

Then you step back to examine your work, nodding with a satisfied smile. “Done.”

Opening his eyes, Jisung walks back to the bathroom to check it out, knowing how peculiar he could be. He wasn’t a big makeup guy, only wearing any when absolutely necessary, for performances and whatnot, so him requesting your help was a big deal. It seemed he was going all out for tonight’s theme, wanting to stand out as much as possible.

Guess your best friend was officially on the market again. About time, there were tens of girls waiting in line for his attention.

“Oh, this is sick!” He comes back grinning, the smudged black liner framing his eyes beautifully and bringing out their depth in true, rockstar fashion. “Thanks, bug!”

You’re engulfed in a hug and can’t help but giggle as he sways your body from side to side before letting go.

“Glitter?” You tease, pointing behind him to your makeup bag.

“Fuck no.”

You chuckle while Seohyun laughs, getting comfier on the couch almost like she owns the place. Nobody minded, it was a usual occurrence at this point – you were past feeling shy and uncomfortable around each other.

Walking over, Jisung moves her feet out of the way before sitting down and letting them fall back over his lap, nonchalantly. “If you were invited, why didn’t you come?”

She shrugs, plopping another gummy into her mouth. “I was on that trip with Mark and his stupid friends, remember?”

Jisung makes a face and gags, earning a foot over the shoulder, that is meant to resemble a slap, before they both start laughing.

Truth be told, you’ve always thought your two best friends would make a cute couple. Despite appearances, they did go well together in the way that what one lacked, the other made up for, completing one another. Even so, you’ve accepted reality a long time ago. Them being more than each other’s pain in the ass was never going to happen.

Just as you squeeze yourself between Jisung and the couch, his bulky arms quickly moving to bring you closer and accommodate your body as Seohyun sits up to make room, Chris finally steps out of his bedroom in a cloud of expensive cologne that’s almost visible to the naked eye.

“Look who’s finally ready. I was about to put together an intervention and break that door down.” Jisung smirks, leaning back on the couch.

Chris rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t respond, dusting imaginary dirt off his new clothes. You helped him pick out an outfit, so now he was wearing a leisure suit, black, with the only pop of color being from the bold, flowery shirt that had the first three buttons open, exposing his collarbones and chest. In true 70s fashion, he had a heavy gold chain around his neck serving as the only accessory. Thank heavens he retired the obnoxious sunglasses.

“Oh my god, you look great!” You exclaim, beaming from ear to ear.

“Thanks to you.” He smiles, soft and gentle before running a hand through his brown curls he finally decided to not straighten.

On your right, Jisung gently elbows your side to get your attention. “But what about me?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.” Seohyun groans, standing up to walk to the kitchen for more snacks. “You already know you’re pretty.”

You chuckle, watching the exchange with interest while Chris begins putting on his matching dress shoes.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” Jisung calls after her, smirking a little too widely.

“Pretty ugly!”

The bickering starts and you ignore them in favor of walking in the opposite direction, to join Chris who’s disappeared in his room once again.

He’s by the dresser, slipping on a golden watch before checking his hair in the mirror to make sure it's tousled to his liking.

Before you can even open your mouth, he’s already turned to you. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? There’s still time for you to get ready.”

You sigh, face falling briefly as your eyes look at anything but him. “I’m sure. Thanks for checking in, though.“

“It’s going to be fun.” He adds, hand landing on your elbow in his effort to convince you. Not like you usually needed convincing, especially if he were to stay by your side the whole night like you knew he would.

You just didn’t feel like it. You haven’t been in the mood to party in a long time, and even though he insisted this was the perfect opportunity to change that, rediscover the joy such an event can bring – your stand on it didn’t budge.

“I don’t doubt it.” You force a smile, not wanting to worry him or plant any ideas in his head. Overprotective was his middle name, so if he were to sense your true emotions even for a second, catch a glimpse of your melancholy, the whole thing would be called off. He truly didn’t care about this as much as he cared about you.

“You should.” His eyes soften, lips settling into a pout that almost has laughter bubbling out of you. “You know parties aren’t as fun for me whenever you’re not there.”

A snort escapes you, gaze trailing to the framed photo of you two back in high school that’s right next to the one you took in the same spot, in his backyard in Australia, four years later this summer. “You’ll survive, Chrissy. I’ll be with you in spirit.”

He looks like he has more to say, words ready to jump out of his mouth and latch onto you so you can finally come to your senses. But Chris chooses to remain silent, sighing like he couldn’t be bothered to put in any more effort to convince you to join him tonight.

“If you change your mind, you know where we are.” He smiles, reaching up to ruffle your hair.

For once, you don’t swat his hand away, and he chuckles victoriously. You won’t change your mind, but it’s nice to know your presence is wanted nonetheless.

As you exit his bedroom, Jisung is halfway out the door, struggling to put on a jacket while Seohyun laughs at him from her place on the couch.

“Finally!” He exclaims, reaching for his keys. “Are you ready to go? Changbin texted me he’s already there.”

Chris nods, waving goodbye to you and Seohyun before walking over to join Jisung in the hallway. “You’ll melt if you keep that jacket on.”

“It’s part of my outfit, I’ll be fine.”

You watch them from the doorway, one more excited than the other as they can barely sit still while waiting for the elevator. As the doors open with a quiet ‘ding’, Jisung makes to step inside before stopping in his tracks. Without a word, he rushes to pull you into a tight hug, lucky Chris is preventing the doors from closing as he takes his sweet time.

“Call me if you need anything, bug!” He pulls away, grinning, and you already miss his warmth. “I’ll come running.”

The smile you give him in return is genuine, even though you know if you were to call, his tipsy self wouldn’t even be able to hear his phone go off. And who would amidst all the craziness a party entrails? He was there to have fun, not worry about your depressing, bed-rotting self.

“Alright, Ji.” You laugh as he reaches to pinch your cheek before he’s off, barely making it into the elevator with all limbs intact as he chooses to stick his hand out to wave goodbye until the doors close.

When you return to the living room, you’re surprised to see Seohyun on her feet and ready to go.

“Shall we go back?” She yawns, stretching her arms over her head. “They’re all out of snacks and I miss my bed.”

You raise a brow, surprised she was taping out so soon. Seohyun was a party animal; she had no problem staying awake till the sun was up, dancing the night away in one of her skin-tight, and sparkling dresses. Still, you hold the front door open. “It’s only 10 pm.”

“Your point?” As she passes you, Seohyun wiggles her eyebrows. “Unless you want to host our own little private party?”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, pushing past her as she begins cackling, the sound echoing through the big hallway that separates the two apartments. The floor only had three apartments, but your other neighbor was never home, for some unknown reason. His whereabouts were an intriguing subject for all of your friends, often coming up with all sorts of theories to explain his absence.

The latest one implied he was some sort of secret agent on a very dangerous mission, renting an apartment so close to the biggest university in the city in the hopes of blending in and not raising any suspicion.

“I’m picking the movie tonight!” Seohyun runs to the couch, her natural habitat and favorite place in the apartment, before you can even close the door. Guess that means you’ll either hide the whole time, not even being able to watch the gruesome horror, or you’ll cry your eyes out at another rerun of ‘The Notebook’.

Thirty minutes later, the lights have been turned down low, the mood lap in the corner engulfing your corner of the room in the warmest shades of orange meant to relax your tired eyes. With snacks all around you, scattered on the small coffee table, ranging from pizza to chips and fizzy drinks, you and Seohyun are sitting up on the couch, under the same fluffy blanket she adored so much.

You’re busy brushing her long hair, wearing a refreshing face mask while she tries to navigate eating another pizza slice without ruining hers when low buzzing gets your attention.

“He’s still calling?” You ask after glancing at her phone next to you, the caller ID not even phasing her. Sometimes you wish you could be as nonchalant until you remember it’s all a façade, most of the time, her poor heart as fragile and sensitive as yours.

“Oh, yeah. He’s been very consistent.” She shrugs, chewing before adding. “Which is a first because he was never consistent in his relationship with me.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, hands gentle while untangling her hair. “I thought you broke it off a while ago?”

Seohyun nods, bringing her knees to her chest while ’13 Going on 30’ plays quietly in the background, a must on your girls’ nights. “I did. He thought I was joking.”

A moment of silence stretches between you; not uncomfortable, but needed for her words to sink in and for you to realize the type of guy she has been investing her precious time and energy into.

“What a fucking asshole.” You finally scoff, shaking your head.

“Tell me about it.” She sighs, wiping her oily fingers on a nearby napkin

“I have been telling you about it.” You point out, but not in a condescending way, your hands stopping momentarily. “Everyone has. You just pretended not to hear us.”

Seohyun is quiet, and you can’t help but start wondering if you’ve upset her somehow. That wasn’t your intention, it could never be. You meant what you said but maybe you could work on your delivery?

Just as you move to reach for her, Seohyun speaks softly.

“Sorry.”

One of your arms wraps around her front from behind, bringing her body close in a comforting embrace she relaxes into immediately.

“What if it’s me? What if I’m the problem?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, fiddling with her fingers in the way she does when she’s stressed or worried about something, a habit you’ve taken notice of years ago.

“Nonsense.” You shake your head, not even wanting to hear about it. In your eyes, she was perfect, the girl who had showered you with kindness and compassion even before getting as close as you were now. Seohyun was a good person before she was anything else, her heart made of gold that sparkled under the sun, and when she was loved truthfully. Unfortunately, she hasn’t yet met the man able to bring forth her shine.

“No, I’m serious.” She turns to look at you over her shoulder while pulling away from the embrace, all of the confidence she carried herself with suddenly nowhere to be seen, the sadness in her eyes making her resemble a lost child. “What is it about me that discourages guys from commitment?”

“Seo,” your eyes soften, heart shattering for her, “there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all the emotionally unavailable guys you keep picking and expecting commitment from.”

“So, technically, it’s still me.”

You shake your head, gently grasping her hands into yours while looking straight into her dull, hazel eyes. “Not at all. You just want to be loved.”

“I’m so desperate for it, Y/n.” She almost sobs, her distress visible even from a mile away as her hands go limp in your hold. “I keep rushing into all of these relationships, falling for every sweet word and empty promise because I’m afraid I’ll end up alone.”

“End up alone?” Now you’re confused, searching her face for any clues that might fill you in about her sudden, unreasonable worry. “Babe, you have your whole life ahead of you, what are you even saying?”

She shakes her head, almost like not wanting to hear you. “Everyone has at least one significant, fairytale-like romance in university. Look at me, three years in and all I’ve got under my belt is a few hookups and a devastating ex situationship that still haunts me.”

“And who says those aren’t significant?”

“Because I’m not going to end up marrying Mark, or any of the other guys whose names I can’t even recall!”

Her sudden outburst leaves room for silence to sneak in and try to comfort the two wounded hearts, just as you slowly move to remove both of the facemasks that were almost dry by now, surely making her as uncomfortable as you felt. It all clicks in your mind, and you suddenly realize this is something she’s been mulling over for some time now, eating away at her mind and making her feel incapable of the simplest task of them all. Love.

Seohyun is no longer looking at you, head low and gaze trained on her manicured fingers while she picks apart a loose thread from the blanket.

Just then, her phone buzzes again and you reach for it before she can react, rejecting the call and setting it face down on the table, right next to yours.

“I get it.” Your voice is soft, quiet as if not to disturb her, the tv for once louder than either of you. “You feel like you’re running out of time, but Seo, love doesn’t have an expiration date. Nobody says you have to find the love of your life by the time you’re 25, just to get married by 30 like most movies portray.”

Fresh faced, her eyes follow your finger toward the screen just in time to catch the beginning of Jenna’s love confession, an emotional scene you’ve both cried watching countless times.

“I’ve never been in love.” She confesses quietly, fixing her headband. “And I’m sorry for bringing this up right now, but it’s been driving me insane for weeks.”

You nod to show you’re listening to her every word, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

With hopeful eyes and still enough sadness in her voice to betray her current state of mind, Seohyun dares to enquire. “How is it? How does being in love feel like?”

Instantly, you feel like you’ve been kicked in the stomach, all the air disappearing from your lungs at the snap of fingers. You’re overwhelmed as memories come rushing back, your tragic love story playing from beginning to end in a neatly made montage that would put most romance movies to shame. You remember everything, almost every second spent by your beloved’s side, from your first meeting to your first date, kiss, the first time you made love and the first time you felt it too.

You now realize that falling for Hyunjin was inevitable – you were doomed from the moment those doe eyes bored into yours, softening as he smiled in greeting. Even though you were mere kids, your feelings have always been real, even if the adults claimed you were too young for them. The love was always there, first shaped platonically but soon evolving into a heart fluttering romance that not many were lucky enough to experience for as long as they lived.

And even though it now hurts and brings you sorrow, the love was still here, even if it was reduced to a mere flicker that struggled to hang on as water kept being splashed on the flame.

But with a deep inhale that brings some of the air back, you satisfy your best friend’s curiosity. “Being in love is…the best and the worst thing that has happened to me. Simultaneously.”

Seohyun looks at you in wonder, some light returning to her pretty eyes, long flashes kissing her cheekbones with every blink as if they too, tried to comfort her. Then, without warning, she bursts out laughing, collapsing on the other end of the couch, away from you.

“You know what? I’m done, I don’t want to experience love anymore. I’m good.” Even though she’s laughing, there’s no amusement present in her tone.

You can’t help but chuckle, the joy not quite reaching your heart either. “No-uh, too late. Love will find you when you least expect it and then you’ll come running to say I was right!”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You clarify, reaching to pinch the headband off her forehead before letting it bounce back to smack her lightly, to which she complains loudly, kicking her feet to get you off the couch.

Soon, genuine laughter welcomes itself into your home once again, air lighter as the seriousness of the moment wears off.

You allow the movie to come to an end, the happily ever after that always has flowers blooming into your heart before standing up for more snacks, and Seohyun’s small bag of nail polish just as the credits start rolling.

Her head pops from behind the couch, body still lounging about. “Will you marry me if we’re both still single by 30?”

“Nope.”

“Gee, thanks Y/n. You’re such a great friend!”

Safe to say, your night ended on a much brighter note than it began.

Until it all came crashing back down the following morning.

You’re awakened by a commotion, an actual crash that startles you out of deep slumber, body jolting among the many pillows and stuffed animals that kept you company during the night. Sitting up, you rub your eyes before reaching for your phone to check the time, confused to see it’s no earlier than 6:55 am. No sunray dared to peek through the thick curtains so you were still a little disoriented, listening to every sound that could tell you exactly what had happened.

Seohyun was not a morning person. Did she somehow knock over a lamp in her sleep? Because the possibility of her being awake at this hour, especially after the late night you’ve had, was nonexistent.

When no other sound follows, you decide to succumb to dreamland once again, head buried in the big, purple teddy bear you got as a birthday present last year. You’re almost there, fully asleep until the sound of the front door opening and closing snaps you out of it faster than lightening.

What exactly was going on in your apartment, at 7 am on a Saturday?

With newfound vigor, you yank the blanket off of you and quickly get out of bed, abandoning your fluffy shoes in your hurry to the living room. Just then, the buzzing of your phone pulls you back, like an invisible force controlling your legs, a puppet on a string compelled to check that out before whatever was happening outside.

You take a seat at the edge of your bed, lounging after the device in wonder. Who could be texting you at this hour?

Swiping your finger over the screen, you’re greeted by numerous notifications that have silently gone off during the night, most from an app you barely use. Twitter. Ignoring them for the time being, you tap a message that has come earlier, from one of the friends you have made in class. Her text only confuses you further as the few words that greet you are only urging you to check the previously mentioned app, followed by one too many worried emojis.

Curiosity peaked, you finally do as she says, opening the app to see what exactly has prompted such a reaction out of the usual calm woman. Your timeline doesn’t look any different, full of 3racha’s fans going crazy over the new pics, and the exclusive music that was apparently played last night at the party. You manage their business account, so the sight was nothing unusual. You then switch to your personal account and are surprised to see the little bell red with notifications. When you tap it, you see numerous accounts, people you don’t even know, tagging you in their tweets and random posts, suddenly desperate to reach you.

You were not popular, especially compared to Chris and Jisung, despite managing their account and being seen with them almost every day. So, this sudden influx of followers and messages made no sense, no one was eager enough to connect with you when they could simply go straight to them.

Confused and very intrigued, you decide to open a random message, tapping on an account you have seen floating around your timeline, often talking about 3racha and their music. The difference between this account and the others was that you knew the person behind it personally, a fellow student who shared her major with Seohyun.

Once her direct message loads, you almost drop your phone right on the cold, wooden floor. Because what you see, besides her worried and confused messages, is a photo. One that was taken last year, at the same party you couldn’t bring yourself to attend this year.

A picture of you and Hyunjin, embracing on the dance floor, in your ridiculous clothing while the other partygoers have created room for you to have your moment, almost like you were a couple having your first dance at your wedding.

Tears well up in your eyes in an instant, heart thumping in your chest painfully, with a force that almost creates a hole in your body, one big enough for the organ to escape and run off. Despite the early hour and the exhaustion slowing down your response time, this moment plays in your mind like a vivid memory, transporting you back in time with scary ease.

The music was too loud and obnoxious for a moment that was supposed to be romantic and switch things up. The DJ decided to play a slow song, perfect to get the couples in the mood for dancing and smooching up on their beloved, giving everyone the opportunity to make their move and possibly find love tonight. You, on the other hand, didn’t need any of that.

Your lover was already all over you, holding your body close while leading you around the dancefloor like the expert he was, only parting when he decided to twirl you around, your delighted laughter like music to his ears.

You were waltzing, or were supposed to if only your heels hadn’t stepped on Hyunjin’s feet one too many times. He claimed it was no big deal, laughing from ear to ear, drunk on the happiness he only felt while in your presence.

So now, you were glued to the same spot, only your bodies swaying from side to side, guided by Hyunjin’s big hands on your hips.

“I’m dizzy.” You giggle into his ear, trying to make yourself heard over the loud music.

Hyunjin laughs in response, looking even more handsome than usual in his grey suit and slicked-back hair, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “From what? Did you drink too much?”

You shake your head, accidentally stepping on his right foot. Again. “The music is too loud. It’s hurting my brain.”

Without a word, you see his eyes begin searching around for something, the absence of his gaze and attention making you feel an indescribable hint of loneliness. He suddenly signals towards the DJ, and the person he’s managed to find in the crowd, none other than Chris, nods and walks off to the guy.

When his smile finds you again, the music along with the lighting has been turned down, creating the perfect atmosphere for all the couples around.

“How about now? Is your head better?”

You laugh, heart squeezing in your chest at the thoughtful gesture as you hug him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re so crazy, Hyun.”

“Only for you. Anyone would go crazy over you.” He barely manages to finish his sentence when your heel finds his foot again. This time, he hisses and before you know it, both of your feet are off the ground as he spins you around, laughing together before you’re put down, now facing the DJ booth and your friends by his side. Chris is having the time of his life, arms around a random girl as he laughs at whatever the DJ has said, dancing while simultaneously having a conversation. Jisung is doing shots with Changbin and Minho, a small crowd cheering them on, away in their own little world, unaware of what everyone else is doing.

Your hands come together at the back of his neck, eyes tearing from the scene to give him your undivided attention. “Well, I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes intense and full of love, sparkling even in the dim lighting. His arms circle your waist, and you’re suddenly chest to chest, glued together as he leans down to speak over your lips. “You have me. You’ll always have me.”

“Always?” You can’t help yourself from pecking his lips once he nods, sure this is the happiest moment of your life. Your highs have always taken place in his arms, after all. “You’ll continue being mine even with my two left feet?”

This time, he cackles, emotions heightened by the alcohol he has consumed tonight. “You’re lucky I’m a good enough dancer for the both of us.”

“But what if I step on your feet at our wedding?”

“We’ll say it’s part of the choreography. Nobody would dare disagree with me anyway.”

You’re two fools in love, staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity that the world could be crumbling around you and neither would notice. Not being able to hold himself back any longer, Hyunjin’s lips find yours in a deep, passionate kiss that wouldn’t normally be deemed appropriate in public. But this was a party, and everyone was already too drunk off their asses to care, especially the couples that were dry-humping each other around you.

No wandering hands or harsh movements, just you two in the middle of the dancefloor, kissing like you’re the main characters in a fairytale. Your tongue finds his, and his grip on your waist tightens in warning. Even with the alcohol in his system, Hyunjin still had his wits about him – a statement that couldn’t be made about you.

So, he pulls back before you can rope him into one of your schemes, with a little more difficulty than he’d like to admit, regretting his choice instantly when you continue pecking his lips repeatedly, needing to feel him close.

One of his arms releases you just so his hand can cup your cheek lovingly, stopping you in your tracks.

“I love you.” You say against his lips, and his smile is so sincere and full of love that it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I know.”

You blink, his words downing on you a moment later as your eyes widen, flabbergasted. “You know?!”

Hyunjin chuckles, smirking, pulling you right back to his lips when you make to move away, displeased with his answer. “I mean, after all of these years, I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend to not know, right?”

“You suck.” He kisses you right after you respond with an eye roll, deepening the kiss instantly, no longer caring about where you are.

“I love you too.”

One of the improvements 3racha brought to the party was a personal photographer, in charge of capturing the essence of the party in as many photos as he could, and that of course included the drunk students and their antics.

You were given a copy of this photo last year, a present from Chris who has asked the photographer himself to capture the sweet moment.

It was later framed and placed on your nightstand. Now, you were pretty sure the broken glass tore it beyond repair, so you didn’t dare pick it up from its place in the corner of the room, thankful it was face down and away from you.

What’s worse is that apparently, this photo has been spread around like wildfire, piquing everyone in attendance’s interest, which opened a discussion you could barely have with your best friends.

Why did you and Hyunjin break up?

With a heavy heart, you then make your way through all the messages and mentions, all talking about the mysterious couple in the photo, about how cute they were, and how they hoped they were still together. Until someone recognized you both and the tone of the conversation changed. Now, most people were tagging you and Hyunjin, almost like they were entitled to know why or how your relationship ended.

Some of the messages you received were nasty, and downright disrespectful, plainly asking you if they could hit on Hyunjin now that he was single. If he was good in bed, and if you’d mind if they took a spin to try him out. Or, if he was as big as he looked.

Fucking deranged people, all obviously drunk, treating you and him like nothing more than means of entertainment. Hyunjin was the captain of SNU’s most popular sports team, he was arguably the most popular student on campus. Everyone knew of him. But this was not normal, nor okay.

Since when doing what you loved came with the price of having your privacy invaded, reduced to nothing more than a piece of meat?

You were not celebrities, but normal students just like everyone around. Why was your relationship coming to an end suddenly the talk of the whole campus? Hot gossip nobody could help but discuss like people didn’t break up or get together on a daily basis around here.

What the hell was going on? But most importantly, what the fuck happened at last night’s party for this picture to suddenly emerge, seemingly out of nowhere?

When you manage to bring yourself out of your room, almost an hour later, the sight that greets you in the kitchen doesn’t surprise you one bit.

“So, you were the ones making all of that noise?”

Three heads snap in your direction in an instant, unable to hide their surprise at seeing you awake at this hour. Almost like this wasn’t your house, and they weren’t currently having some sort of gossip sesh without you, first thing in the morning.

“I’m so sorry.” Seohyun is the first to talk, the braid you fixed for her last night all messy and almost undone, stepping closer. “That was me, I stumbled on my way out the bedroom…” she suddenly trails off, eyes wide. “Babe…are you crying?”

You pat your cheeks, not expecting to find them wet, the tears rolling down your face at an alarming pace. Sharing a concerned look, Chris and Jisung hurry to you, with the latter being faster and pulling you into a tight hug that never fails to make you feel safe. Once your face hits his chest, the sobbing begins and both Seohyun and Chris circle you protectively, joining in on the hug as best as they could.

“You already saw everything, didn’t you?” Seohyun asks softly, almost like she’s talking to a frightened child. When you manage to nod in response, Jisung tenses beneath you.

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” Your heart breaks at the tone of Chris’ voice, and you reach out to squeeze his hand in comfort. This was not any of their faults. You being sensitive and breaking down because of a simple picture and some weird comments didn’t have anything to do with them.

“Our department posted pictures from last year, a throwback to the first party we threw. By the time I realized the girl also posted the picture of you two, it was already flooding my timeline and messages.”

“We tried to remove it from your timeline.” Jisung chimes in when you finally calm down, gently wiping your eyes as you realize he’s still wearing the clothes from last night. “We were so focused on it that we forgot about all the weirdos tagging you and shit. I feel fucking terrible, bug, I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” You croak out, voice raspy from all the crying. Losing the love of your life was still a sensitive topic, yet you didn’t expect being reminded of your happier times to still hit this hard. “Or your responsibility to handle such a thing. I’m going to be okay.”

Seohyun is at your side, petting your head soothingly while removing any hair strands stuck to your wet face. “Babe, we’re your friends. I’ll personally hunt down all of these assholes and make them apologize on their knees for treating your personal life like a random TV show.”

A smile finds you, unable to keep a straight face around her even for a second, the other two nodding in agreement. “Thanks, you guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine, sweetheart.” Chris kisses the top of your head, having removed his blazer and only sporting his flowery shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and exposing some of his tattoos. You stare at each of them in turn, taking in their appearance. All three look like they barely got any sleep last night, which is pretty accurate. You and Seohyun went to sleep in the early morning, having spent the whole night talking about everything under the sun.

The guys most likely haven’t slept a wink yet, judging by the state they were in.

They must’ve rushed over here once they got wind of that mess on social media, and scheduled an intervention with Seohyun. You swear they were too worried about you.

Which is why you were extremely grateful to have their support in your life. Despite what Chris is saying, you’re aware you would have crumbled a long time ago without them by your side.

Without all of them, your world would have permanently lost its color.

A few days later, things have calmed down but you and Hyunjin were still the talk of campus. Whatever class you’re having, or in whichever building you go, there’s always someone recognizing you, gossiping with their friends without a care in the world. It’s like they have nothing better to do or talk about, just speculate about your lives for hours on end. You’ve heard them all. Most were happy Hyunjin was finally single, on the market, and within arm’s reach, ready to be swept off his feet by the next person. Or so, they say. Others feel sorry for you for fumbling such a man, shooting pitying looks every time you’re near.

It's weird and uncomfortable, and you’re unable to concentrate on anything while such people are around. So, you do what any other person would in this situation.

You stop going to class.

You spend the rest of your week at the animal shelter, taking more and more hours just so you’ll have something to do. Things are quiet here, with most people out of the loop and not involved in any of your university’s drama. Everyone besides Jaemin. But he hasn’t brought it up yet, in consideration of your feelings, you suppose. Not like you were close enough for him to care about any of that, but he’s still nice enough to pretend he hasn’t heard any of the things floating around on campus. Hyunjin is his captain, after all, there’s no way he doesn’t know.

Any which way, things will most likely blow over soon and the students will find something else to gossip about by next week. But for now, you’ll be staying far away from that godforsaken campus.

Not like you missed it anyway. This time away was a well-deserved break in your book.

“Do you have plans for this weekend?” Jaemin asks while bottle feeding a puppy that’s been brought in this week, a newborn that couldn’t be older than a few weeks at best.

You nod, eyes glued to the little angel in your lap that allowed you to trim her claws with minimal fussing, a white fluffy cat that’s been at the shelter for far too long. “I do, yeah. I’m going to a club down in Hongdae tonight.”

He raises a curious brow, stopping the rocking chair’s movements to regain his balance. The little granny chair made him dizzy. “A club? I never took you as the clubbing type.”

“Because I’m not.” You laugh, reaching for the cat’s treats as you set the clippers down on the mat next to you. “My friends are performing so I’m going to support them.”

“Your friends?”

“Have you heard of 3racha?”

“Oh!” Jaemin almost jumps out of his seat, eyes sparkling as you’ve genuinely impressed him, the puppy crying in distress. He looks down, devastated, and takes a moment to comfort him before adding. “The upperclassmen? They’re so cool, everyone on campus loves them and their music.”

Now this is an interesting turn of events. Yes, 3racha was popular, you’d know, but Jaemin being a fan? This you were not expecting, for some reason. Their music was for everyone, but Jaemin struck you as the type of guy who’d only listen to bubblegum pop and whatever music inspired him enough to create a choreography around.

Who would’ve thought he was a cool guy, with great taste, after all?

Setting his coolness aside for a moment, he was definitely a good guy, first and foremost. Tall, nice smile, friendly, and with a soft spot for animals? You can’t believe you haven’t seen it before, but he would be perfect for Seohyun! Exactly the type of guy she needed after dealing with one too many fuckboys for the past three years.

They needed to meet. And you will make it happen, no matter what.

“Yep, them.” You try to contain the grin that’s threatening to expose your newly formed plan. “Actually, why don’t you join us? We have a pretty big table and you know what they say, the more friends, the livelier the party.”

If he were to judge you based on the dark circles under your eyes, and the lack of light in them, Jaemin would realize in a heartbeat that the last thing you were in the mood for was a party.

Thankfully, he’s clueless. Still, his smile does drop a little, making him resemble the puppy in his arms

“Oh, thank you but I’m going back home tonight.”

“Wait, really?” Your smile morphs into a genuine one as you resume your task, moving to the last paw once the cat has gotten her fill of pets. “That’s great! I know you’ve been missing home like crazy.”

He laughs, setting the empty bottle on the table next to him and gently moving the puppy in his lap, a little lost on how to handle him. In his hands, you could barely spot the small dalmatian. “Oh God, sorry for talking your ear off about it all the time, by the way. But yeah, I’m taking a train tonight and I’ll unfortunately be back on Monday since we have a game.”

“Already? Doesn’t the season start in October?” It escapes without meaning to, and you only realize a moment too late, lips pressing into a thin line in regret.

Jaemin nods and doesn’t question your sudden interest. “It does. This one is a pre-season game to help us warm up and better our teamwork.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to be wearing your jersey and cheering you on?” Teasing him has become second nature at this point, smirking while fluttering your lashes for the full effect.

Yet, he isn’t far behind. “You can if you come.” He says it so nonchalantly that sometimes you can’t tell if he’s still joking or has suddenly decided to become serious.

And it never misses. The face you make by scrunching your nose is the true and accurate picture of disgust.

“I’m joking.” He drags out the word, huffing while rolling his eyes. When your face is back to normal, relief prominent on your features, he adds a little quieter. “Still, I’d be happy to have you there cheering for me.”

Both of your eyebrows hike up in surprise, a tinge of amusement in your voice. “Who says I’ll be cheering on you?”

“Then who will you be cheering on, huh?” He bites back, reminding you of a certain someone. “The enemy? Where’s your school spirit, Y/n?”

Finally done, you release the cat who jumps off your lap happily, returning to headbutt your hand in demand of some more treats for being so obedient. You swear Snowflake was smarter than she let on. “That depends. Who are you playing against?”

“Yonsei.”

“Oh, is Daehyun still the captain?” Jaemin nods, scooting closer to the edge of his seat, as if preparing himself for an impressive story, all while still petting the small dog that has fallen asleep in his lap. “Wow, so then this marks his fourth year as the captain. Impressive.”

Daehyun was a year older than you and most of your friends, and you remember meeting him in your first year after SNU beat Yonsei and prevented them from advancing that season. A good player, but a little too cocky for your taste.

For some unknown reason, you notice Jaemin’s light dim, body tensing in his seat as he bites down on his bottom lip, looking uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable – nervous. Why was Jaemin nervous?

“Can you tell me more about him?”

Snowflake takes that as her cue to leave, obviously not a fan of sports, fluffy tail bouncing away with her every step, brushing against Jaemin’s leg on her way out. The front door was locked so for as long as you were concerned, she could wander around as much as she pleased.

“Me?” A laugh escapes you, trying to lighten up the sudden heavy atmosphere. “Aren’t you the one on the team?”

He looks a little sheepish, hands clasped together leisurely in a sign of fake confidence. Seeing him lack confidence was a weird sight, one you would have never associated with him before. “I joined the team late last year, so I haven’t played against them yet.”

Taking pity on him, you decide to share whatever information you remember about them, Hyunjin’s words ringing in your mind. “Daehyun is their main quarterback.” Then you pause, realizing you’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. “Wait, what’s your position on the field?”

“I’m a left tackle.”

Tackles were usually seen as bulldozers, their responsibilities on the field varying. Speaking from an offensive point of view, there were five linemen in a team at all times, needed for the game to be playable. Jaemin was a left tackle, which meant he protected the quarterback from the left side, working alongside the other four men to ensure nobody from the other team touched Hyunjin. When they weren’t doing that, they worked together to push back the defense and create openings for their teammates.

His role was important but not as crucial as the center. He started the game and without him, Hyunjin and the others wouldn’t be able to run freely on the field. That’s why, the title of captain was usually given either to the center or to one of the quarterbacks. On the other hand, since Hyunjin was right-handed, the left tackle protected his blindside which automatically made Jaemin the most important tackle on the field.

The center controlled the offensive line but the quarterback’s responsibility was to lead the entire team, to know their positions at all times before even thinking about passing the ball.

That’s exactly why, the decision of who’ll get to wear the heavy captain badge was the easiest one the team has had to make three years ago. Nobody but Hyunjin fit that role to a T.

And here you were again, thinking about him. Great.

Even so, Jaemin must be an impressive player to be given such an important role so soon.

“Daehyun usually comes from the right, letting the others take care of his blindside and intercept any danger. He’s selfish and likes to hog the ball, pretending to pass just to mess with your head.”

He’s listening so intently that you’re afraid he might fall, rocking chair tipped forward. “But there’s no need to worry. You’re not the one he’s after, anyway.”

For some reason, your reassurance doesn’t seem to settle his nerves, muscles tense as he begins rolling his shoulders back to get rid of some of the knots. Still, he manages to smile, obviously thankful. “Thank you. I’ll keep everything in mind.”

Just as you’re about to speak again, question his sudden change in mood, your phone buzzes loudly in your hoodie’s pocket, pulling you away from the present moment. Briefly glancing at the caller ID, you answer without much thought, Jaemin taking this as his cue to bring the small puppy back to his siblings.

“Hey, Bin. What’s up?” He didn’t usually call you, most of your communication happening through sporadic texting or whenever you’d drop by their studio to see Chris and Jisung. Changbin was the textbook definition of a social butterfly, with friends in places one wouldn’t think he even frequented. Well liked and friendly, he was the most extroverted member of 3racha, the party animal that knew how to have fun and make any situation entertaining for everyone.

“Ay, how’s my favorite social media manager doing?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes as if he could somehow see you. “Great. I’m taking care of some cute animals right now; life couldn’t be better.”

Even though you were mostly joking, since life has been pretty shitty for a while now, Changbin chooses to believe you, joining in your laughter. “So, you’re not in class either?”

“Listen, I’d rather do anything else than sit through another one of Mr. Kim’s boring and drawn-out lectures. That guy just doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

He hums, agreeing completely. Mr. Kim was your Music Theory professor, with an impressive career behind him that in most people’s opinion should have ended ten years ago. He was one of the best, and most renowned professors at SNU, however, his way of doing things has gone out of style a long time ago, so usually, his lectures were filled with him rambling about how music isn’t what it once was, and how this university has gone to shit thanks to its unserious staff and students.

Perhaps Mr. Kim hasn’t been doing too hot lately.

“Oh, he really fucked us over this time.”

Your brows furrow, confusion visible all over your face. “What do you mean?”

“Can you swing by the studio later? I’ll explain everything in detail then.” He sounds tired, more so than usual, and you find yourself agreeing just so you won’t become another inconvenience for him.

With what seemed like a weight lifted off his sturdy shoulders, Changbin exhaled and thanked you softly. “Where’s that shelter of yours? Should I send someone to pick you up?”

You shake your head just as Jaemin pops back into the room, puppy free. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

“Alright. See you later.”

The call ends shortly after, and as you pocket the phone, Snowflake returns to headbutt your hand, just as Jaemin comes to a stop in front of you. “Do you need to go? I can close up in here by myself if it’s urgent.”

It was currently six pm on a Friday, which meant no other volunteers were going to show up until tomorrow morning. You were the only two people left, having stayed past the usual closing hour just so you could keep the animals company for a little more.

You knew Jaemin was eager to return home, to his two babies – there was no way you were going to do that to him, no matter how much he insisted he didn’t mind.

“That’s fine. We can do it together.”

You swear the smile he shoots your way has something twist in your heart, a similar feeling to the knife that’s been firmly stuck in there for months now. It’s painful and you almost flinch away from him, the only thing keeping you in place being the possibility of him noticing and not turning a blind eye, asking about it worriedly.

He was perfect for Seohyun.

Closing up doesn’t take long, even though it’s your first time doing so with someone else. Jaemin keeps blabbering the whole time, finally back to normal and worry free, and you’re happy your previous conversation didn’t have any lasting effect. Game day was a big deal and he was bound to feel nervous. That never truly goes away.

Bidding him goodbye, he’s on his merry way, skipping back to campus while whistling a happy tune. The sight makes you long for the days when you were this happy and carefree, and a part of you can’t help but wonder if you are ever going to feel that way again. Happiness and content seemed so far away – what if they became a part of your brain, you could never access again?

With similar questions spinning around in your loud mind, the trip to your friend’s studio takes half the time it usually does, and you barely register you’ve arrived until you find yourself pushing the door open and entering the familiar building that belonged to Changbin’s father. 3racha’s main studio resided here, even before they gathered an audience and were just teenage boys with a dream, working towards their goals with a hunger that hasn’t yet been satisfied.

Since then, they acquired two more studios. This one was Changbin’s, his preferred workplace he could usually be found at but also their headquarters. Jisung’s was at their apartment, in one of the free rooms he turned into his sanctuary, his safe place that held all of his guitars and unreleased songs. As for Chris, he settled on renting a small place, a few blocks away, just for himself and his trusted laptop he’d be ruined without. The boys loved working together and spending time with one another but sometimes, it all got too much, too suffocating, so they needed their separate spaces to manage to work in peace and get some alone time.

All of the important meetings happened here, in the studio everything started back in high school, so it’s not like they had the time to become too independent or feel lonely. The three of them were a team, after all, Chris’ arms he could never navigate life without. Fundamental parts of him that also couldn’t function on their own, needing the glue that kept them together at all times.

The building hosted numerous businesses, providing them with the space necessary for their workers. Changbin’s father was a multi-millionaire tycoon, owning most of the apartment buildings in the city, including the one you were currently living in. He offered to fund 3racha’s dream and catapult them to stardom, just like they’ve always wanted, but they’ve always refused, firm on the decision of making and walking their own path, even if it was muddy or lacking any of the desired light.

You’ve always admired that about them, the fact that they didn’t choose the easy way, give in to the temptation that was right at their fingertips, on a pretty, silver platter.

Pressing the fifth-floor button, the elevator doors close and you’re left alone with your thoughts for a total of 30 seconds before you step into the freshly cleaned, sleek white hallway whose marble floors seem to sparkle. The sheer size of it all used to intimidate you, with all the twists and turns and numerous closed doors that seemed to mock your existence. But now, you barely acknowledge your surroundings as you stroll towards the end of the hallway, passing by a nicely decorated kitchen area with snacks, drinks, and too many sitting arrangements.

The last door, behind which resided the largest room on the floor, which was off limits to everyone except Changbin and his friends, was the only one welcoming you warmly. Almost like it burrowed some of its owner’s warmth, as strangely as that sounded.

Your hand is raised, ready to knock, and let yourself in before loud voices from inside make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this actually is!” You hear Changbin say, voice raised beyond its usual volume. A murmur is all you decipher before he speaks again, distress clear as day in his tone.

“Minho, Hyunjin blew up at someone today!”

And just like that, your heart skips so many beats that you believe you’ve momentarily stopped breathing, hand flopping to your side unceremoniously. There’s no air entering your lungs anymore, frozen on the spot like you were getting broken up with for a second time in three months. Why did everything have to circle back to Hyunjin, in one way or another? Was he experiencing similar things or were you officially going crazy?

“What?” Minho finally lets out, sounding confused, sign he hasn’t witnessed the scene Changbin is referencing.

Minho, along with Changbin and Felix, who has been studying abroad in Australia for a year now, were Hyunjin’s best friends. They have been each other’s rocks ever since high school before you got the chance to meet him.

Minho was as overprotective of his people as Chris was, ready to fight anyone who dared hurt his precious friends. An intimidating panther who bared his teeth at the first sign of danger, ready to pounce and eliminate any threat.

And as of late, one thing was clear as the sky on a sunny day. Minho absolutely despised you.

“We were by the field,” Changbin begins, sighing like remembering the scene was painful, “and these girls sitting behind us in the bleachers were going on and on, gossiping about him and that stupid fucking picture. They knew we could hear them, heck the whole team could, but they didn’t fucking care and kept speculating about his relationship and the reason it ended, spouting all of this nonsense like it was any of their business to begin with!”

Minho is quiet, processing everything as Changbin stops to breathe, inhaling greedily like he is running out of time and needs to let it all out before it is too late. “I saw the moment his patience ran out, jaw clenching in anger, like a bomb ready to explode at any moment. And then, before I can do anything about it, Hyunjin turns around and tells them to shut the fuck up and get a life.”

You’re taken aback, not being able to wrap your head around the information Changbin just revealed. This was so unlike him, to react so rashly and be overcome by anger, that you almost didn’t recognize the person from the story as being him. Hyunjin was rational, level headed which helped him juggle all of his responsibilities with ease. He wasn’t rude and snappy but then again, if you had a backbone, you might’ve reacted in the same way. The gossiping has gone too far, spiraling out of control like you were nothing more than a story on the front page of a cheap magazine.

“Deserved.” Is all Minho says, a certain pride in his voice. Changbin on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same.

“Minho, you don’t get it. I was afraid he was going to throw his heavy ass duffle bag at their heads!”

“Maybe he should have.”

“You can’t be serious.” You hear the chair squeak as he presumably stands up, exasperated.

“And why not, Changbin? You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. People have gotten a little too comfortable with talking about actual strangers and their personal lives, harassing them on social media and treating them like fucking celebrities.” Minho’s voice is full of disdain, controlled anger dripping from each word.

Changbin doesn’t respond, which has you wondering about the look on his face. Even though Minho was harsh, he wasn’t wrong – you all knew that.

“Yes, Hyunjin is popular, but does that mean they can pick apart his life for fun? Turning him into campus gossip like he’s not just a regular student trying to navigate whatever the fuck he’s currently going through?”

“This is unlike him.” Changbin breathes out, sharing your sentiment.

“Why? Because he finally had enough and snapped?” Minho counters. “Hyunjin has been through a lot recently, and now he’s reacting accordingly. I would have been more concerned if he wasn’t angry.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, silence stretching on as the gears in your head keep turning faster and faster. Hyunjin’s behavior made no sense, especially since you lived under the impression that he was fine and dandy experiencing life to the fullest. His anger was justified, yes, but was it really necessary? People gossiped about him all the time, calling him awful names whenever the team lost a game or made a wrong call, and he has never reacted in this way.

Could Hyunjin actually be more affected by your break up than you initially thought?

As you get closer, eager to hear more, the door suddenly swings open and you stumble back, startled and embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. And as fate has it, since you can never win, the one towering over you with his intimidating presence alone is Minho, whose cold eyes are glaring tiny icicles at every part of your existence.

He pauses, on the verge of saying something, most likely preparing to chew you out when he scoffs, deeming your existence unworthy of his attention as he walks away, grazing your shoulder with his, which has more of an impact than an actual collision. Minho’s indifference hurt, but his anger? That was lethal.

“Minho – oh, hey! Were you waiting long?” Changbin almost bumps into you, eyes flickering to yours before looking past you in search of his friend.

Still a little shaken, you make way, stepping out of the doorway. “You can go after him.”

Just then, the sound of the elevator arriving fills the air, and Changbin lets out a defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s fine. Come in.”

You do as he says, not thinking too much about it, thankful he was too busy with whatever was currently going through his mind to put two and two together and realize you’ve been here for a while. Or maybe he did and simply didn’t care. Changbin could be too nice for his own good, sometimes.

The studio looked the same as always: fancy equipment, Changbin’s numerous instruments, two black leather couches by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a glass, sparkly coffee table. For better acoustics, both the floor and the four walls were made of wood, dark oak to be exact. It made the room feel cozy, war,m and welcoming despite the intimidating smell of money that hit you from the moment you stepped inside.

The recording booth was where all the magic happened though, the place of birth of most of their discography. Every single inch of it was soundproof, and you remember Chris telling you about the times he used to lock himself in there just to scream when life got a little too overwhelming. To test it out, years ago when it was first set up, Minho and Jisung had a screaming competition – the sight of them from behind the tiny window that separated the two spaces, going back and forth animatedly while no sound could be heard on your end was hysterical.

A huff escapes him as he flops on the leather chair by the desk, suddenly looking so much smaller as exhaustion seems to settle deep into his bones. You’re quiet, taking a seat opposite him on the closest couch, watching as he runs both hands through unruly dark curls, pulling himself together.

“Thanks for coming.” He manages to smile, spinning his chair to face you. “Do you want something to drink?” Changbin nods towards the mini fridge to your left, and you shake your head.

“Are you alright?” You can’t help yourself, concerned after hearing his previous conversation.

“Just peachy.” He slouches into his chair, getting comfortable. “I haven’t seen you in class in a hot minute.”

You fidget on the spot, his conversation with Minho still fresh in your mind adding to your discomfort. Changbin might’ve been your friend, but you weren’t that close, especially not close enough to confide in him about such a sensitive subject.

Thankfully, a grin finds its way onto his features, eyes staring at nothing in particular as he snorts. “That’s mostly because I haven’t shown up at all this week, but you know.”

Despite yourself, your muscles relax, the atmosphere lighter. “Why are you skipping class?” You laugh, reaching for one of the small, decorative pillows nearby to hug to your chest.

“I’m making money moves, Y/n. I have no time for senile profs and fifth grader homework.”

Oh, yes, alluding to Mr. Kim and his assignments that have you analyzing the same three music sheets since your freshman year.

“See, you get me. Chris on the other hand, just scolds me for skipping.”

He shakes his head. “That’s because he gets a music boner for the guy. He respects him too much.”

You’re both laughing, easily falling back into your usual banter.

“What did he do though?”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes like he’s remembering an unpleasant memory. “So, he suddenly decided on a new assignment that’s worth 50% of our grade. A group project.”

Your smile vanishes, fists tightening on the poor pillow. “What the fuck? When?”

“Today, when we were skipping!” Changbin lets out a humorless laugh, slapping his knee as his way of coping. “Chris texted me all about it a few hours ago. Can you believe it?”

No, you couldn’t. You also couldn’t wrap your head around the reason Chris, your childhood best friend, your other half, hasn’t texted you anything about it to begin with. He knew where you were and what you were doing, not busy in the slightest, so why was he keeping you out of the loop?

And Jisung? Where the fuck was Jisung?

“Anyways, so his brilliant idea entrails pairing us up with someone we haven’t worked with before. Because out there in the real world, you won’t always get the chance to work with your friends, apparently.” He scoffs loudly, voicing your displeasure, properly annoyed at the old man. “That’s how we ended up stuck with each other.”

The way he says it hurts the tiniest bit, but you brush past it with a chuckle. “Gee, don’t get too excited, Bin. A girl might get the wrong idea.”

Changbin blinks, slowly processing your words before his eyes widen. “No! Oh my god, Y/n, please don’t get me wrong! I’m so fucking glad I got you and not some rando that won’t bother pulling their weight!”

Relief washes over you, the pillow falling slack in your lap. “But?”

“Not buts.” He shakes his head. “I know you usually work with Chan so I can understand if you’re disappointed you got stuck with me.”

“You’re kidding right?” You tilt your head, frowning. “I’m so happy it’s you and not someone I don’t know! We’re friends and I know your work ethic, I couldn’t ask for a better partner for this assignment, Bin.”

Now he’s beaming, no trace of any of his worries left behind, pleased by your words. “Thank you, Y/n.”

Changbin has always been someone easy to get along with, and he was one of the most hardworking people you knew. If you couldn’t work with Chris or Jisung, you were glad it was him. There was no doubt in your mind your team was going to ace this.

“So, what do we have to do, exactly?” You move the conversation along, leaning back to melt into the comfy couch.

“Hold on, I’ll send you the doc I got from Chan.” He wheels over to his laptop, and as it comes to life, your curiosity is peaked by something that looks like a workout plan which he minimizes a little too quickly. A minute or so later, your phone dings with a new text from him.

“We essentially have to come up with five songs by the end of the semester, and put them together in a mini album.”

Your mouth falls open, eyes glued to the screen as you start reading all of the instructions. “Why the hell is he taking over Mrs. Oh’s class? Music theory does not involve any of the shit he’s sprouting in here.”

Spinning to face you, Changbin’s distress is back in tenfold. “I know! I heard he got mad people stopped taking him seriously and are skipping his boring class.”

Great, another washed-up professor who longed for his glory days. This university loved getting on your nerves and keeping you in a constant state of stress and anxiety, like worrying about your future wasn’t already giving you enough of that. You should have just chosen Yonsei.

Exhaling loudly, you throw your phone to the side and push your hair back. “All right, a mini album about what? Because I’m sure he’s not giving us any creative freedom here.”

Changbin nods, reaching for his coffee. “The five stages of grief.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

After you almost popped a blood vessel because of Mr. Kim on Friday and established how and when you were going to start working on those songs with Changbin, Monday rolls around a bit too quickly for your liking.

You’ve spent the weekend thinking about it, measuring the pros and cons before deciding on accepting Jaemin’s invitation. The one which involved you getting off your butt and going to a football game. A game your ex was undoubtedly going to be present at, taking front stage.

You haven’t been to a game in almost five months, having stopped attending when things went sour in your relationship. Other than that, you have been going since your freshman year, when he was first made captain.

Football wasn’t one of your passions, never was, and never will be, but for him, you made an effort, and now your head was full of useless information about a sport you couldn’t care less about. A loss in your book, but a win at the time when it was serving a purpose. Now, you were no different from an old encyclopedia about a topic that has long stopped being relevant, outdated, pulled off the shelves to make room for the new, shinier books the students could reference in their papers.

But you had a plan.

You were going to show up, introduce Seohyun to Jaemin, and make sure they hit it off and then dip, preferably before the game even starts. It was brilliant, one of the best ideas you’ve come up with in a while. Nothing could go wrong, right? You were bound to get some good luck after the horrible run you’ve had, it was going to be alright. If a miracle were to somehow occur, you might not even bump into your ex.

However, since you chose to not share your plan with anyone, your friends were more than surprised as you sprung that on them, seemingly out of nowhere.

“You want to go where?” Chris lets out after a coughing fit, drinking from Jisung’s water. Seohyun and Jisung look just as taken aback, not understanding your sudden excitement, sharing concerned looks across the table.

“Please? It will be fun!” And then, you turn to Seohyun next to you, who froze with her milkshake halfway to her mouth. The noisy diner is suddenly quiet, almost like it shared their sentiments. “I want you to meet someone!”

She points to herself, even more confused. “Me? You’re doing this for me?”

Jisung leans over the table, getting a hold of your hand so your attention can be on him. “What are you planning, you little minx?”

You feel Chris’ eyes bore holes into the side of your head, staring at you intently, in the hopes of breaking through the wall you set up and reaching your true feelings. He knew you too well – there was no way you were as excited as you let out to be.

You expected them to be concerned, but maybe not to this extent. It was odd and out of character for you who avoided everything that had to do with your past relationship, to be so excited about something like this. Chris definitely believed it was too soon, your heart still too fragile to remain intact once you stepped into the wolf’s den.

And you agreed but maybe this was exactly what you needed. The best way to confront your fears was head-on. The more you kept running, the more you let them control every aspect of your life, allowing misery to be present at every hour of the day.

Maybe this was the first step you needed to take in order to feel like your old self again, the person you were before him. Before his love destroyed you.

And so, you try your best to ignore the look in Chris’ eyes, shaking off the discomfort his scrutiny has brought forth. “I’ve found your prince charming.”

Seohyun is surprised, eyebrows meeting her hairline as she sets down her drink, reaching for your other hand. “Babe – “

“Come on, stop worrying, all of you. We’re going to have fun!”

They’re silent, staring at each other as if they were trying to decipher the way they should approach this, how to respond. Your smile is strained but doesn’t falter, putting on your most convincing mask. Fake it till you make it and then you’ll feel alright.

In the end, Chris sighs, defeated. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You don’t get the chance to celebrate before his voice softens, gently redirecting your attention to his last words. “But if at any time, you feel the need to leave, or just get bored or whatever, you let me know, yeah?”

Once again, it looked like he managed to read your mind and find your original plan, proof of how well he knew you.

And that’s exactly how you ended up by the football field later that day, up in the bleachers searching for your seats, a little after four pm. One of your other friends, Jeongin, got here earlier to pick the best ones, close to the stairs to aid in your quick escape.

Even for a pre-season game, every single student seemed to be here, the stadium packed with people from all departments, all excited to cheer for their favorite team. And the guys on them. As your gaze trails downwards, to the field and the players who are currently crowded by a small group of girls, you manage to recognize all of their faces. Their long time girlfriends are wearing their jerseys, fussing over their uniform and overall condition, making sure the guys were fit to play. On the opposite side of the field are the guys from Yonsei, not as loud and excited since this wasn’t their ‘homeland’, but still as supported and cheered on.

You manage to spot Daehyun, who’s looking a little worse for wear, pacing back and forth like his overall game plan changed in the blink of an eye. Odd.

“Guys, over here!” Jeongin yells, patting the seats beside him with the sweetest smile on his boyish face. Seohyun pulls you along, your hand in hers and the others follow, with Jisung still talking Chris’ ear off about some new video game he managed to beat last night. He couldn’t care less about football, he never has.

The moment you make it to your seats, you’re pulled into a brief hug Jeongin plans to escape a little too soon. When he makes to pull away, you only hug him tighter, which surprisingly, he isn’t mad about, laughing loudly. Seems like he has missed you just as much.

However, when the greetings continue around you, a nearby conversation prevents you from getting out of the way, too curious to sit down.

“Did you guys hear Hyunjin won’t be playing this season?” A girl sitting in the row below asks her friends, whose faces fall at the news.

Multiple gasps are heard, one more surprised than the other. “What? No way that’s true!”

“It is!” Another girl chimes in, nodding. “Apparently some other guy is taking his place. A rookie.”

And that’s the exact moment your world seems to collapse, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as you whip around to face the field once again, desperately searching for those familiar numbers on his back. In your haste, you don’t find them, and panic threatens to overtake you until your eyes land on the captain badge pinned on a red jersey. Something looks off though, because usually, under the big C, Hyunjin has two stars, and they were supposed to add another to signify the three years he’s spent as the captain of this team.

This badge has none.

Because the guy that’s currently taking off his helmet, shaking his head while smiling brightly at something his teammates have said isn’t Hyunjin.

It’s Jaemin.

[obsessedwithfictionalmen01]

Celestial Date

A/N: Hey there! It's been a long time since I've written anything!! This is a little idea I had a few days ago I hope you guys enjoy it and just remember English is not my first language so if there's any mistakes please let me know! 🩷

Pairing: Castiel x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: Reader has a crush on Castiel and her brothers (Sam and Dean) know about it, more importantly they also know Castiel feels the same way, so they play a little match maker game by setting them up for a Valentine's Day dinner!

Warnings: none? i think?

Castiel stared at the state of the bunker, he didn't know how or why but someone had decorated it with heart balloons, heart shaped paper cuts on the walls, a heart shaped pie laid on the kitchen counter. Why so many hearts? He asked himself as he looked around the bunker. For sure this wasn't Deans’ idea, maybe Sam… but then he herd it, your small giggle echoing the hall. This had to be your idea.

“Hey, Cas! You like it?” You asked excitedly, holding pair of scissors and a pink colored paper.

Castiel stared at you for a few seconds confused, that's when it hit you. He didn't now about Valentine's Day. But he knew freaking cupid himself.

“It's Valentine's Day!” you said excitedly as you pointed at the heart shaped balloons around the room. Castiel followed your pointing finger and looked around.

“You do know that's not what hearts look like, right?” He asked with a small soft smile, he didn't mean it in a rude way, he was actually confused.

“I know! But this is much prettier than a real heart” You explained with a gentle tone looking at him, you didn't know why but everytime you stared into his eyes you swore you could get lost in them for hours, a pretty blue color and so many emotions packed in them.

Castiel on the other hand could listen to your voice for eternity, whenever you would start rambling about your newest hyper fixation Cas would be the only one listening, your brothers too used to it dissociated and just nodded. But not Cas, he would listen carefully watching your lips move and voice getting pitchier the more excited you got with the conversation. Like now.

“Valentine's Day is literally the best day of the year, it's the only day we truly celebrate love and friendship, there's hearts everywhere, people buying and receiving flowers… It’s so magical” You said with dreamy eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you like flowers?” He asked.

“Are you kidding? Who doesn't love flowers?”

“Well I understand why humans would find them beautiful but you know they are basically dead, right?”

You looked at him trying not to chuckle, you were amazed by his point of view of life, how he found everything so complex and rare. And he loved how you viewed life, you found beauty in the most simple and small things.

“I'm gonna go and get ready for tonight. Sam and Dean want all of us to have dinner tonight in a nice place near the bunker, they say they are doing it for me but I know they just want to have a drink later and maybe find a desperate girl in the bar” You said with a small grin before you turned around and walked towards your room “See you at dinner, Cas”.

Castiel watched you walk away, his heart skipping a beat when your head turned to look one last tie at him before entering your room. He decided to head into the kitchen where he found Dean and Sam eating a slice of the pie you made, he sat down next to them with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You are going to spoil your appetite for dinner” He said when both brothers looked at each other and then at him. “Oh we are not going out” Dean said with a small grin chuckling. “But I heard we were…” Castiel started before Sam cut him off “No, Dean and I aren't going”

“I don't understand” Castiel said, Dean looked at him and sighed, he stood up from the chair and walked towards him, his hands placed on his shoulders “A little birdie told us you may have a crush on our little sis” He said with a mocking tone “And another birdie told us that maybe our little sister also has a crush on you” Sam continued “So we thought… maybe it's time they both had a chance to have a date, and what better day than Valentine's Day? As you can see he loves it” Sam said with an amused smile.

“She… likes me?” Castiel asked, still shocked. His eyes stared into the table, he would have noticed, right?

“Just one thing…” Dean said before he pressed his angel blade against Castiel's back “One wrong move and I end you” He stated now in a more serious tone. Castiel only stared at Sam worried, this wasn't the first time he felt something like this for a human but this was her it wasn't just any human and of course Sam and Dean's sister which he already knew what it meant.

Castiel took a deep breath and when Dean put the blade away he looked at both brothers with a pleading look “What should I do?”

“Hey man, just be yourself. We know how much you care about her, you’ll be fine” Sam said with a small genuine smile. Castiel nodded and got up from his chair “Thank you” He said to them before he quickly disappeared. Both brothers looked at each other and laughed, they wished they could be there to witness this date.

A few hours later you were all dressed up waiting outside the restaurant for the boys and the angel, you looked at your phone when you felt a presence behind you, turning around quickly you were met with Castiel, he wasn't wearing his usual trench coat and suit. He was wearing a much nicer suit without his tie, the white shirt had a few buttons undone and the black suit jacket fitted his form perfectly. You couldn't help but look at him up and down your eyes taking in how handsome he looked, you were so distracted by it you didn't even notice the hand he was hiding behind his back.

“Hello” He said gently with a small smile, he was nervous but tried his best not to show it. “Hey, Cas. You look very handsome” You said feeling the heat rising up to your cheeks.

Now he was the one taking in your appearance, your outfit hugging the curves of your body perfectly, the color perfectly matching with your eyes which sparkled under the moonlight, Castiel could swear he was in Heaven again. His mouth opened but nothing came out, he was stuck. That's when he remembered the small gift he brought you, his hand finally sticking out holding a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh, Cas. You shouldn't have…” You said when you looked at the flowers, your eyebrows arching with a small pout, but a happy one almost endearing. “Well you said that you liked flowers and that that was something people did in Valentine’s Day so I thought…” You stopped him by standing on your tip toes and kissing his cheeks gently

“They're perfect, thank you” You said taking the flowers and smelling them briefly.

Castiel looked at you wondering how was it possible for such a simple creature to be as beautiful and sweet as you, he wondered what he had done to deserve you. His thoughts quickly pushed aside when you took his hand leading him inside the restaurant, you sat at your table placing the flowers on top of it when it hit you, the table was for two, not four. You frowned and looked at Castiel confused “Are the boys coming?”

Castiel looked at you briefly before his hand rubbed the back of his neck “No” He replied nervously, he didn't know how you would react when you found out about your brother's little scheme.

“They had this planned didn't they?” You asked rhetorically. He simply nodded with a shy smile.

“Well since they went through the trouble we should just enjoy, right?” you said with a small grin, the waitress appeared and you both ordered drinks and your food, you knew Cas didn't usually eat or drink but after he became a human he missed savoring food so he tried every now and then.

An hour passed and both of you were having a great evening, you talked about everything instantly connecting in a deeper and more intimate way, you felt your cheeks slightly turning red from the wine you had and Castiel looked more relaxed and happier than usual, he felt like he could listen to your voice for hours and not get tired.

Finally both of you decided to pay and have the last drink at the bunker, he took your hand gently and then walked with you through the streets at night, all restaurants filled with lovers celebrating this day you couldn't help but look subtly at them, which didn't go unnoticed by Castiel.

“You know, angels can feel love, we can fall in love and feel all kinds of emotions but humans… you take it to the next level, you live and love in such a special way. It amazes me” he said, looking at you with a small smile.

“I guess knowing your life has an ending makes everything more special” You replied, squeezing his hand gently. You both remained silent after that admiring the calm night when finally you reached the bunker.

You entered first looking around to see if your brothers were home but no one seemed to be there. You took Castiel’s hand and guided him inside, he sat on the couch while you looked for Dean’s whiskey bottle he hid from everyone. When you finally found it you poured it in two glasses and sat next to Cas on the couch, one of your legs on top of him as you handed him his drink.

“I had a really good time tonight” you said looking into his baby blue eyes, you wanted this night to never end. “Me too.” he replied, placing the glass on top of the table “Dean told me… that you liked me.”

You stared at Castiel blinking for a few seconds, feeling your cheeks turning even more red “That bitch” you replied “Cas, I know it must be weird for you, I don't expect nothing from this you don't have to feel pressured honestly I don't know why he would tell you that I simply…” Castiel kept listening to you when he noticed you rambling nervously he leaned in, finally kissing your lips. You stopped talking instantly and closed your eyes feeling his hand on your cheek gently caressing you, you could taste the whiskey on his lips. You wanted more so you placed your hands on his chest and deepened the kiss slipping your tongue between his lips. A small moan escaped Castiel’s mouth and he took your hips in his hands lifting you up and sitting you down on his lap.

“Is this Ok?” He asked breaking the kiss to look at you, worried you would change your mind. He had his hands now on your hips holding your body against him and your hands were unbuttoning his shirt very slowly “Yes, Cas. This is perfect” you said before attacking his lips again. You both got lost in each other's hands and lips, he was unzipping your dress, his hands caressing your skin, your heart beating loudly and your hands taking his shirt off…

“For the love of God, not on the couch!” Dean yelled, startling both of you.

“Oh my God I’m gonna need therapy after this” Sam said laughing with his hands covering his eyes.

“Get a room!” Dean yelled again.

Castiel and you looked at each other and chuckled, your face hiding in the crook of his neck “I wouldn't mind taking this somewhere more private” he whispered in your ear. And that's how you both ended up entering your room and closing the door behind you. This was gonna be the best Valentine's day ever.