#help from the living Bunker

[puthyflapps]

I have an intimate truth to share: I think Sunday would be a very cute name for a shoni baby who lives on a farm with her two moms. Sunday Shalifoe??? They could call her Sunny!! C’mon it writes itself!! And if she looked just like Shelby?? The material is there!! 😭😭😭

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[pscottm]

Norway fuel giant 'refuses to fill US submarines' after Trump-Zelensky clash | World | News | Express.co.uk

A petrol giant in Norway has announced a ban on fuel sales to all US forces following Donald Trump's treatment of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky at the White House, it has been reported.

Norwegian firm Haltbakk Bunkers announced it will stop providing fuel to all American forces in Norway as it declared "No fuel to Americans!". The firm posted on social media to declare its support for Zelensky as it dealt a hammer blow to US President Trump following the heated spat televised from the Oval Office.

It said: "We have today been witnesses to the biggest s***how ever presented "live on tv" by the current American president and his vice president. Huge credit to the president of Ukraine restraining himself and for keeping calm even though USA put on a backstabbing tv show. It made us sick. Short and sweet. As a result, we have decided to immediate STOP as fuel provider to American forces in Norway and their ships calling Norwegian ports.

"No Fuel to Americans! We encourage all Norwegians and Europeans to follow our example. SLAVA UKRAINA"

Owner of the firm Gunnar Gran has told Norwegian maritime news site Kystens Næringsliv that 'not a litre of fuel' will be delivered 'until Trump is finished'.

[ceilidho]

imagine running from a horde of zombies after you were caught off guard and sprinting through a forest, hopeless and desperate because you can't seem to shake off this horde that seems to be growing in numbers, until finally you come across a shelter carefully concealed in the pinewood, almost blending into the surrounding landscape.

the man living there must have seen you running in the distance because when you pass by, the door opens and shuts like a spider's trap, and he drags you inside and holds you to his chest so you don't so much as twitch until you hear the horde pass by. and it's large. hundreds of undead groaning and rushing by, almost clambering over one another, still thinking that they're in pursuit of you. your heart is smashing against your ribcage because you realize now that there's no way you could've outrun them or gotten away - the man at your back is the only thing standing between you and certain death.

he introduces himself as Gaz and tells you that you can spend however long you'd like with him. he's been living in the woods since the outbreak and he's been stockpiling food and water since long before. one of his old army buddies bought the bunker almost a decade back - a real prepper-type, though he passed well before the apocalypse and left the property to Gaz in the absence of any family.

you're so appreciative of his help and you aren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so obviously you take him up on his offer and spend the week.

only when days go by and you mention that you're thinking of heading out now that the horde has long passed, he talks you out of it. seems concerned about what'll happen to you if you're on your own out there. you let him convince you to stay a little longer, but sure enough, after another few days you start to get jittery, anxious to get back out on the road because the last thing you want to do is overstay your welcome.

then you see the locks on the door. it's padlocked shut, the key nowhere to be found. you don't remember there being locks on the inside. that's the only thing you can think when Gaz comes up from behind you, planting both of his hands on your shoulders, almost as if to offer you reassurance.

"don't worry, love," he murmurs, bending low so his voice is right in your ear. "i'm gonna keep you safe. you won't ever have one of them chase you again."

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I saw your post about bugout bags and like ... bracketing the Gestapo Doorknock thing, when did the "correct" response to a natural disaster become to immediately flee and go into refugee mode? The negative fantasy here is heroically saving yourself while your idiot neighbors die, instead of making the kinds of community connections that people actually use to survive and respond to disasters.

I get what you are saying about community connections being the best path to resiliency, but you should very much flee from floods and wildfires when at risk, to name a few. Ideally while making sure your neighbors are also getting out of Dodge, all assuming there has been ample warning for this particular disaster. But sometimes, there are scenarios where you just have to go that very moment.

For all their talk of bugouts bags, I don't think the capital-P Preppers actually want to leave their home bunkers.

The same American Exceptionalism that causes people here to have Lone Wolf apocalypse fantasies also makes them think they can survive a hurricane in a coastal flood zone.

There is an element of humility required to leave one's home possibly permanently. But that's the key difference, here -- the Preppers aren't as interested in survival as they are in ushering in some kind of new World Order.

You see this type pop up every now and then as a hurricane sets its sights on a town -- the people who make it a big point to talk about what they'd do to a looter, should the Big One hit. These are folks who are not interested in becoming a refugee amd are fine with the risk of staying home, if it means they can shoot people from their little castles.

I also saw more mundane selfishness when I did hurricane rideouts for emergency operations in my old Florida city job -- part of our comms was to remind people that we could *not* send anyone out to help them peak-storm. Sometimes, fleeing (aka, saving yourself) is what keeps other people alive -- they don't have to risk their lives saving you because of your stubbornness.

So, I'm a bit skeptical of fleeing being a power fantasy. What's more likely to happen in a lot of natural disasters (especially those with lead times) is you either get renegade fools in clear danger refusing to leave, or uninformed folks not at risk who panic and think they need to evacuate when they should just hunker down. (And then there are the unfortunates who should evacuate and want to, but cannot because the system has failed them in some way.)

That said, for a longterm crisis, community absolutely is key. And even in a short-term crisis that requires an evacuation, one is presumably fleeing *to* some place that will have other refugees, and it's in one's best interests to build community even in these temporary conditions.

[falesten-iw]

Urgent 🆘️ call: 🚨🍉 Please help..🥺😓🙏

My name is Falastin, and I am a mother of three small children, ages 5 years, 2 years, and 3 months. I am not very good with social media, but I am writing to seek your help to give my family in Gaza the chance to live their lives again.

Due to the ongoing genocide we in Gaza are experiencing, my family need your help to survive, leave Gaza, and find safety.

In november 2023 last year, i lost three of my cousins from my mother's family with their wifes and children's, some of them still under the rubble untill now. 

In mars 2024 this year i lost another 2 cousins in Alshifa hostpital, this shock after three months of the first lose was a big slap into our face, it was a harsh reminder that death didn’t stop, and that none of us is an exception in this genocide, not a woman nor a child, everyone of us is a target to the death machines above our heads.

My family has lost everything. Some of them have tragically passed away, and those who remain are without shelter, moving from one temporary place to another in a desperate attempt to stay alive. Currently "After more than 20 times of being displaced and having to leave our house escaping from rockets and death " they have fled south and are living in a makeshift tent made from plastic bags and torn clothes.

Each day is a battle for survival. Each day, my family wakes up not knowing if they will have food to eat, clean water to drink, or a safe place to rest. Their homes have been wiped, and their children sit sleepless waiting their death. In Gaza, there is no where to seek shelter, no bunkers, nowhere to hide. Gaza is no more than 40 kilometers long and 10 kilometers wide with a population of just over two million. Gaza's border is completely surrounded by fences and barbed wire. The only way out of Gaza is to Egypt.

I used to introduce myself as the youngest in the family but in this GENOCIDE I’m a big sister who see her siblings’ future getting lost in front of her eyes, as i see my brothers kids who are still young and supposed to be in school, my mom who is 73 years old unable to find her medicine, as I see them, I made it a mission to myself to save my family or who’s left alive from it, to save their future from all of this and to escape Gaza.

Despite everything, I still have hope to save those who remain of my family. But I need all the help I can get from every person on earth. This challenge is not easy for me, especially since I am not good with social media and i dont have so many follower to reach and ask them for help. However, I am trying, and maybe with your support, the impossible can become possible.

Asking for your help is the only way I have to save my family’s life and future. Your help can be our hope when hope seems far away. Because of that, I appeal to your generosity and compassion, asking for help so that we can gather the necessary funds to help my family.

Photos of "Lina," who was born at the start of the war, and she is now 9 months old. Your donation could give her the chance to survive, leave Gaza, and find safety with her family.

I would like to thank everyone who has donated, shared and supported my campaign so far. Your generosity has given us hope in the darkest of times, and I am deeply grateful.

So far, we have raised 3,950 SEK of our 2,000,000 SEK goal - August 15th. While this is a small step, it is a crucial one, and it shows that together, we can make a difference. We still have a long way to go, and I urge you to continue sharing our story and contributing if you can.

Every donation, no matter the size, brings us closer to saving my family and giving them a chance at life. Please read and act as if it were your family, your mother, your siblings in these conditions. 🙏🙏🙏��💔💔💔

Important note: Donation value:

** 1$ = 10.5 Swedish kr

** 10$ = 105 Swedish kr

** 100$ = 1050 Swedish kr

** 1000$ = 10500 Swedish kr

VETTED and shared by 90-ghost, also as no. 282 in The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet compiled by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi and shared in the masterpost.

We have also been verified by Al Jazeera News. Here is the video. I added this video today, august 15th. Its showing my cousin and aunt in the hospital, where she shares how the Israeli army airstruck them with their kids. Listen to my aunt Suad "Em Mhammed".

Best regards,

Falastin and her family.

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a ��fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[aangelinakii]

SOME TIME FOR HIMSELF.

— of course he's grateful, but...

summary : of course damian likes that you get on well with his family, he just wishes that maybe they'd let him actually pull you away from them.

note : i always feel like my damian fics are on a whole other level 💀💀 they're so poetic

the first time damian introduced you to his family, inviting you to dinner one night, he had high hopes that you would be a crowd favourite — and he was never wrong about that.

his father had welcomed you into their abode with a tight smile, kind, of course, but rather wary as to what your intentions may be with his son; by dessert (alfred's star tiramisu) bruce was laughing at every joke and grinning at every story.

his brothers — dick, jason, tim and duke — introduced themselves with their most intimidating glares, thick arms crossed over their chests, emphasising their size, and just how much damage they could do if any came to their youngest kin; as alfred's tiramisu was settling happily in stomachs, they found themselves squabbling over who deserved to get you on their team for eight-ball pool. duke won.

that night damian found himself falling asleep quickly, a soft smile plastered to his lips, images of your smile, so comfortable, as you chatted easily with steph as you awaited your turn with the cue. you'd even managed to crack cass out of her shell a little — and it was only tonight that damian realised how big of a family he had.

even alfred had good things to say when damian purposely stayed back to help him load up the dishwasher once dessert was finished.

he couldn't help that warm pride fizzing in his chest.

but that was four months ago, and damian thinks he sees more of your avatar on wii sports than he actually sees of you.

any time you come round his, you're always whisked away by tim wanting to show you the newest issue of a comic you both gushed over a month ago, or steph dragging you up to her room to update you on some gossip she told you about that time you were here last week. sometimes even ace can't help himself wanting your attention.

he doesn't necessarily want to border you from his family, but when you live in a family so big, no one understands the definition of "personal space."

it gives damian the chances to take you out on dates, go out of his own comfort zone; the arcade, the cinema, paintballing, mini-golf. when money doesn't want to be spent, you two can go on walks, or spend your time together at the library getting studying done.

but sometimes chilling at home is nice, too.

sometimes he wants to play wii sports with you, not sit back on the couch, forced to watch you play tennis against jason; sometimes he wants to play one-on-one eight-ball against you, not stand against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for the game to finish.

so today he's going to be sneaky.

it'll be difficult, sneaking around a family of detectives and vigilantes and alfred, but damian thinks he can do it.

as he creaks open the mansion's front door, the alarm disarmed by one alfred pennyworth — the only person damian had told in advance about your being there, as he realised there was nothing you could hide from that man, even if you tried — damian scans the foyer for any bystanders. once he's sure there's no movement, he looks back at you and smiles, pushing the door wider for you to step past him.

"i say let's get some food and take it upstairs, so we have steady rations for the day," damian suggests, taking this slightly more seriously than you expected; the crease in his brow reminding you of an army general checking the bunker's inventory for the week.

with a soft chuckle, you allow damian's soft palm to take yours, his nimble fingers closing around the back of your hand, tight like he hasn't been able to hold it in a long time — and he has, he's just being dramatic.

feet careful against the marble floor when the plush carpet disappears, damian leads you into the kitchen, where a softly whistling alfred is standing with his white sleeves rolled to his elbows before the sink, drying up glass cups with a cloth.

he barely sends you a glance, though the corner of his mouth curls slightly, and his whistling ceases for a moment.

"i had to tell alfred you were coming," damian explains, his voice an undertone in efforts to not attract any adopted siblings or billionaire fathers. he heads to a cupboard and opens it, pulling out a few crackly packets of crisps and other shared-favourite snacks he claims to have gone out and bought just for today. "he knows too well when i am lying, even though i hadn't lied about anything yet — i was just scared he would find out if i had."

back from the sink, alfred's whistling stops, though the squeaking of polished glass continues. "wise decision, master damian, i'm glad i taught you early on."

now he glances back. "i would go quickly now, last i saw, master dick and master jason were on their way up from the gym. if you want to avoid them, as you say, i wouldn't dawdle."

"dawdle? we are not—"

"master damian," alfred's tone lilts pointedly.

"right." and, with that, some snacks in your grip, some in damian's, he shifts the weight of them to one arm, which seems slightly uncomfortable, and carefully takes your elbow to lead you through a passage behind the fridge.

flickering flames crackle as you ascend the winding steps to the second floor.

"i get you want to have one-on-one time, damian, but you know i really like your family," you find yourself saying halfway up. "it's not that you think i dislike them, is it?"

"no," damian's quick to respond, glancing back at you. "it is that i am beginning to dislike them. they disturb our time together. every time."

you're about to reply, saying something about how maybe time together is turning into time with them, which is okay, but a cluster of voices mutters past the suit of armour concealing you in the shadows of the passageway, and damian presses a finger to his lips.

it's certainly steph, being a girl's voice, chipper, unlike cassandra's, and a boy's voice, either dick's or tim's — but there's people there, and damian doesn't want to be found. more so, you to be found.

after a few silent beats, the voices recede, as well as footsteps atop carpet, and damian leads you out from behind the suit of armour.

just as you're coming out from thr passage, your shoulder clings against the metal elbow of the knight, having misjudged the tightness of the gap between him and the wall, and a metallic twang rings out.

in a manor filled with junior detectives, nothing of the sort goes unnoticed or unchecked, and a door opens before damian can even take your hand.

"(name)!" a voice gasps cheerfully — three guesses who — and another one groans, who you know by now is your boyfriend's.

chest torn between wanting to go along with what damian had planned, and responding to steph as she emerges from her room, your instincts respond. "steph! hey!"

"i didn't know you were coming round today," she smiles, absently taking a pack of crisps from the bundle in your arms and opening it up for herself.

behind you, damian scowls, not taking it upon himself to hide it at all. "that was the point."

stephanie doesn't seem to notice damian's tone, or, seemingly, damian's presence at all, and she places a hand on your shoulder. "you'll never guess what happened the other day," she begins, guiding you back towards her room.

"more already?" you laugh, both intrigued, yet glancing back wistfully towards damian, who's been left alone in the hallway.

"like you wouldn't believe!"

just as she's about to close the door, damian appears, hand on the wood, holding it open, the food dropped somewhere back in the corridor, thick eyebrows knitted together like a sweater. "hey!"

"oh, hey, dames," stephanie takes a break in her gossip update as she sits down at the pink swivel chair at her cluttered desk. "just stealing your partner for a sec, i hope that's okay?"

"it's not," he replies before stephanie can turn back to you and continue.

the stone in his tone is abrasive, gritty, something usually unheard of. stephanie could ignore it, but she finds herself mouth open, blonde eyebrows upturned.

"oh, i'm sorry, i—"

"no, you're not sorry," damian cuts her off again, stomping towards you and takes some of the load off your shoulders, taking a few of the snacks from your arms. "you always do this. whenever (name) comes round, you and everybody else in this house take them away from me. they're here to see me, not you. not you, not dick, not tim, not father."

"hey, that's not fair—" stephanie shoots you a guilty look as her sentence is cut off once more by your emotional boyfriend.

"what's not fair is that the time i want to spend with them is diminished by my siblings, who are not even my real siblings, who insist on being utterly... utterly stupid!"

damian storms off in a huff, off into the hallway and into his bedroom, where the door slams, causing you and stephanie to flinch.

by now she's abandoned her open crisp packet, her appetite suddenly gone, and you don't feel too normal sitting on the edge of her bed with a strange array of snacks in your arms. you want to apologise, but now you understand why damian was so intent on having a day just the two of you.

the words are on the tip of your tongue, and you want to meet steph's gaze, but you can't really bring yourself to.

"i... sorry, i..."

"it's okay, i should be the one who's sorry," stephanie dismisses your apology with a small shake of the head, not watching you either. "i think you should go check on him."

you release the bundle of snacks onto stephanie's duvet, which you don't think she minds, and get to your feet.

when you pass through stephanie's doorway into the corridor, a few heads are peeking out of doors, including duke a few rooms down holding an airpod in hand, having plucked it out to eavesdrop. you offer a smile, and he shares it, putting his airpod back in and retreating to the safety of his room.

outside damian's room, you knock lightly and let yourself in, knowing he won't respond, but also knowing no one else would be knocking on his door after something like that.

he's lying face-first on his bed, fists clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles are turning white.

the mattress sinks slightly beside him as you lower yourself down, placing a careful hand on his shoulder blade.

"damian?" you try, voice just as soft as your touch. "i'm sorry i bumped into the armour, it was an accident. i didn't mean to get steph's attention, and i didn't realise how important it was to you that we got to spend time together."

though muffled, damian's voice comes from within his navy, star-speckled duvet. "it's not your apology to give, you did nothing wrong."

he shifts and you can see half his face, eyebrows still screwed towards each other. "it's everyone else. they can be too much. they always ruin our time together."

"i don't think they realise they're ruining it," you suggest softly. "i think they think they're doing good by you, by getting to know me and having a positive relationship with me. have you ever told them it bothers you?"

the gap between your question and damian's reply is long and lengthy, stretching longer and longer, and you already know the answer, that by the time it comes you're not surprised.

"no."

your hand smoothes circles over damian's upper back. "damian..." you sigh. "how can you expect them to know what you want if you don't tell them?"

mouth squishing out in a pout, damian's shoulders shrug up beneath your touch.

"i know it's difficult, and sometimes you feel like some people should know better, but i think you should tell them."

with a sigh, damian pushes himself up to a seated position, eyebrows less tense on his forehead. "i know, you're right."

improving from that pout, damian's lips pull into a small, minute smile, and he leans forward to engulf you in a hug. "i'm sorry for overreacting," he huffs into the crook of your neck.

at the affection, you feel your lips curl in tandem with his, and one of your arms comes around his back to reciprocate. "it's okay, damian, and besides, it's not me you should be apologising to. we can go together, okay? and then you can tell steph how you feel."

damian's body soaks up into yours, and he lets out a content breath through his nostrils. he doesn't respond verbally, but you can feel him nod his head against your shoulder, and your stomach drops in relief.

[wendichester]

please can you do Sam x reader where reader is Dean’s best friend, idrk how I want it to play out you can choose but I always find that so fun/funny

also one thing is can reader be girly please TYSM xoxo

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ best friend's brother,

summary. sam's crushing hard on dean's best friend aka you

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 550

notes. giggling and kicking my feet cause god please!!! make me be her and throw me into this universe PLEASE

Sam Winchester has a problem.

It’s not a supernatural one—not a vengeful spirit, not a demon, not anything that can be solved with salt and fire. No, this problem is a little more complicated.

It’s you.

Dean’s best friend. The one person who’s been around almost as long as Sam has. The one who breezes into their motel rooms with an oversized bag full of perfume and makeup, throws herself onto Dean’s bed like she owns it, and makes herself at home in their lives like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And the worst part? You’re gorgeous. Like, distractingly gorgeous.

Which is exactly why Sam is screwed.

It starts with little things—things he tries not to overanalyze. The way you twist your hair around your fingers when you’re thinking. The way you smack Dean’s arm when he says something dumb. The way you hum to yourself when you’re loading your gun, like preparing for a hunt is just another part of your beauty routine.

Sam tells himself it’s nothing. Just a harmless crush. He can ignore it.

Except then you start getting too comfortable with him.

Like now.

“You are so tall,” you huff, standing on your tiptoes, struggling to reach a book on the highest shelf of the bunker’s library.

Sam watches from his chair, amused. “You could just ask for help.”

“No, I’m independent.” You make a dramatic grab for the book, nearly toppling over in the process. “I can totally—”

Sam sighs, standing up and easily plucking the book from the shelf. He hands it to you with a smirk. “You were saying?”

You snatch it from his hands with a pout. “I had it.”

“Sure you did.”

Dean walks in just in time to witness the exchange. His eyes narrow immediately. “Oh, hell no.”

You blink. “What?”

Dean points a warning finger between you and Sam. “I know that look. That’s the look Sammy gets when he starts thinking things.”

Sam scoffs. “I don’t have a look.”

“Yes, you do,” Dean argues. “It’s the I’m totally falling for my brother’s best friend look.”

Your mouth falls open. “Wait, what?”

Sam’s face heats. “I—no. That’s not—”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, eyes going wide. “Are you into me?”

Dean groans. “Son of a bitch.”

Sam rubs a hand over his face, knowing there’s no easy way out of this. He’s always been awful at hiding his emotions, and now that you’re staring at him like he just admitted some huge secret, there’s really no use denying it.

You grin. Grin. Like this is the most amusing thing in the world. “Sammy, do you have a crush on me?”

Dean looks pained. “Please, don’t say it like that.”

Sam exhales sharply. “Maybe. A little. But it’s not a big deal—”

“It’s a huge deal,” Dean cuts in. “Because you’re off-limits, sweetheart. My best friend. My very girly, very high-maintenance best friend.”

You roll your eyes. “I am not high-maintenance.”

“You bring two separate curling irons to hunts.”

“So?”

Dean throws his hands up. “So, you and Sam? Not happening.”

But the way you’re looking at Sam now—considering, interested—makes Sam think maybe, just maybe, you’re not entirely opposed to the idea.

And judging by the way his heart is racing, he knows he’s in so much trouble.

⋆.˚ ★— read part 2

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[ilguna]

☼ six feet below (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; after being swallowed into the ground during the quarter quell, you’ve found yourself claustrophobic ever since. and so when you find out that district thirteen is a bunker, there’s no stopping the panic attack that comes.

warnings; swearing, torture and death mention, illness, claustrophobia, panic attack description.

wc; 3.5k

--

There has never been a more disappointing moment in your life than watching yourself get reaped for the Hunger Games a second time in less than a decade. Only this time, it was for a Quarter Quell. Which was destined to be your own personal hell.

The way your lips pulled up in disgust at the sound of your name, not at all amused by the Capitol’s antics. When you looked off, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of making eye contact with the camera, your face had been reflected back at you, due to a projection on a nearby building.

It was highly gratifying to know the entirety of Panem would see the irritation, and they’d never be able to edit it to make your reaction some other way. Even if they were to try and cut your expression out later on if you were to win, it would never fit. 

You barely got reprimanded for it after. All your escort had to say was that it wasn’t very lady-like. As if there was a more graceful way to take the news you’d be fighting for your life again. You couldn’t help it when you asked her what the appropriate response would’ve been. Should you have thanked her?

She didn’t give you an answer, either because she couldn’t think of one or she knew if she were in your shoes, she would’ve broken into tears the moment her name had been called. Especially since she knows what it entails and just how brutal it can be.

From then on, you did your best to steer a wide path from her for the rest of the Capitol week. The last thing you needed was her correcting manners, when you could be dead within the next two weeks. 

The week was far from what you thought it would be, not that you were expecting it to be easy. You knew there would be a lot of familiar faces, but it took until the Tribute Parade for you to realize what you were dragged into. You had to interact with other victors as a tribute that you’d met as a mentor. Several of your friends found themselves in the same position you were in.

Not to mention, your boyfriend had been reaped, too. 

Finnick couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears that followed. When you saw the way the stylist had dressed him for the Capitol—you were inconsolable. He thought it was because you were scared, causing him to swear up and down he would protect you. When really, you were terrified if you’d make it out alive without him, and you’d be forced to live with his ghost.

The Capitol had you trapped, something they were never able to do before.

When you were announced the winner of the Sixty-seventh Hunger Games, you promised yourself you’d never let the Capitol get the best of you. If you could control it, you’d always stay one step ahead, sometimes two if you could manage it. It’d worked out so far, right up until that point.

You were sixteen when you won, and seventeen when you returned for your first year of mentoring. President Snow tried to negotiate a deal with you, but you’d already heard the rumors of what it meant. All the victors back home in Eleven warned you about what he would want from you, what it would mean going forward.

They weren’t wrong, and while you were ready for everything he had to throw at you, it was hard to keep a grip on your future. He threatened your family, only for you to tell him most of them had died due to the illness that was going around. Anyone still alive wouldn’t be for much longer.

He threatened your friends, all of which you’d lost following your Games. As glorious as the victor life is in the Career districts, it’s less so in District Eleven. And while the whole year of rations should’ve lifted a lot of spirits, it hardly worked in your favor. There weren’t a lot of congratulations to go around.

So, President Snow threatened your life.

You stared him in the eye as you gave him a shrug, telling him he was more than welcome to give it a go. Your quality of life had significantly decreased already, what else could he do? 

Nothing. Nothing was the answer. 

It was probably the first time a tribute has ever pulled one over on the president without having their hand slapped immediately after. Seeder was convinced he’d have something coming for you, but you were left alone. Maybe it was because he knew the Quarter Quell would be coming, and he’d have you then.

Well, he was right. The wishful thinking that you’d be able to escape them forever worked for a handful of years. As time grew on, it became harder to keep it that way, and when the Quell had been announced, you gave it up altogether. President Snow knew it was a matter of time before he’d get you under his thumb. And he had you good. 

The arena has been and always will feel like it’s targeted at you. You’re sure everyone thinks the same when they rise out of the podium, but your misfortune so far has been immeasurable compared to the others.

The jungle was no exception. 

You tried to regain your footing when it came to being a step ahead, by remembering how deceitful the arena had been for Haymitch. You figured it would be the same way, just by looking at how the arena had been sectioned out. 

The concentric circles seemed purposeful, with the way it had been the Cornucopia, the water, the beach and then the jungle. The only part that didn’t make sense were the twelve spokes that shot out from the center, but you shrugged it off, thinking the Gamemakers needed to add ground for the tributes who weren’t strong swimmers. 

The lightning, fog and monkeys should’ve been your clue as to what was happening, except you were too busy fighting for your life to be drawing up theories. So you can imagine your surprise when Katniss announced the arena was working like a clock, and that’s what Wiress had been attempting to communicate the whole time you’d reunited with the second half of the alliance.

It made sense for the next couple hours, the group of you had gone to the center to see it all play out. Then the Gamemakers spun that goddamn Cornucopia, confusing you all again. None of you had any idea on where to go, so you took a gamble on one of the spokes and decided to wait on the beach until one of the hours gave away what time it was.

At some point during this period, you thought you’d check out the jungle while you found a place to relieve yourself. Finnick wanted to go with you, but he got pulled away by Johanna when she began to argue with Katniss again. You promised him you’d be careful, and went off.

You don’t think you made it twenty feet in before you were swallowed by the dirt. It was as if you stepped into quicksand, only it was dry and you sunk much faster. You barely managed a scream before you were breathing in the jungle’s dirt. 

It felt like you were stuck in the ground forever, trying to claw your way out, holding your breath, but it couldn’t have been longer than a minute or two. By the time your hands broke the surface, Finnick and a few of the others were there, searching for you. As soon as you’d been spotted, they tugged you out and several feet away from where you’d been eaten.

You were choking on dirt while gasping for air, feeling the crunch of the soil between your teeth, the way it stuck to the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it when the first sob came from you, tears washing away the filth that was stuck in the creases of your eyes.

Finnick held you, rocking you as you cried into him. You couldn’t stop, you knew if they’d shown up a few minutes later, you’d be dead. Just another victor to be remembered but never forgotten. Anyone would’ve reacted the same way you had, even Johanna.

However, if you knew President Snow would capitalize off this moment, you never would’ve shown how vulnerable it made you. You would’ve just shaken off the experience and pushed through.

Instead, Snow exploited it. 

It was planned that at the end of the third day in the arena, what was left of the rebel alliance should meet at the lightning tree. Whoever was left in the area after the arena exploded would get rescued and brought to a safe place. The main goal was to make sure Katniss was there, since she’s the face of the rebellion. Everyone else was expendable. 

It worked out fine in the beginning, but the plan went to shit when what was left of the Careers tried to attack you, Johanna and Katniss while you were executing Beetee’s instructions. The three of you got split up, and while you were off fighting Enobaria, the arena went black, which meant the hovercraft would be appearing at any moment.

When you did get to the tree, it was far too late. The hovercraft had come and gone, and you were left to fend for yourself. You found you weren’t the only one left behind, because Johanna and Peeta showed up shortly after, accusations flying everywhere. 

It didn’t matter what you had to say to either of them, because you all wound up in Capitol custody. And all the pent up anger Snow had been containing was released on you for the next couple weeks. 

It was a good thing the rebels from District Thirteen rescued you when they did, because you were beginning to crack. Just a few more hours and you’re sure you would’ve started telling the Capitol anything and everything they wanted to hear—even if it would’ve been lies.

You’re just glad the people of Thirteen have been understanding of your situation so far. They’ve been so patient when it comes to interacting with the refugees—a bulk of them coming from Twelve. From what you heard, it’s been flattened by the bombs from the Capitol, following the abrupt ending of the Quarter Quell. 

You’ve slowly started integrating into their lifestyle after being in the hospital. The head doctor has finally allowed you to move into a compartment with Finnick, which means you have free reign of the building. You’re returning to normalcy, even if it’s taking forever.

Your favorite part about your newfound freedom is that you’re able to sit at a table with your friends, again. You never thought you’d be able to enjoy their presence after what happened in the Capitol. But it seems as if the doctors don’t care about the intermingling of the victors.

“How was your time in the Capitol?” Peeta asks you, stone cold serious. “Did you enjoy it?”

Although, maybe they should.

You stare at him for a long moment, not sure how you’d like to respond. You didn’t know Peeta super well prior to the Games, but he was always courteous in passing. If this is how the Capitol has left him, you can’t even begin to think of what they might’ve done. 

You’ve noticed that he’s lost his sugar-coating. Everything he says seems raw and unfiltered, which you can come to appreciate in the future. As of now, he needs to be reminded that sensitivity isn’t a weakness, even if the Capitol has taught him otherwise.

“Did you?” You shoot back at him. “I distinctly remember you crying for your mother, but maybe I’m mistaken.”

Peeta lets out a short laugh, a half-smile on his face. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about the Capitol so soon.” Finnick interjects, reaching over to rub your back. He raises his eyebrows, expression gentle as he watches your face. “It’s not the greatest subject.”

“Why not?” Johanna asks, mouth full of food. “Peeta and I can talk about it, right?” She nudges him with her elbow. Peeta gives a mechanic nod, causing your face to twist. “We’ve come to grow as best friends.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Peeta murmurs, looking away.

“Johanna, don’t tease him.” Finnick tilts his head. He stops rubbing your back, instead moving to hold your hand to squeeze it.

“I’m not.” Johanna says simply. “Would you rather me tease (Y/n)?”

“No.” He tells her, tone hard.

“Yes, absolutely.” You nod. “What do you have for me?”

She eyes Finnick, gauging whether or not it’s worth what Finnick will do to her. She must decide it isn’t, because she crosses her arms and leans forward onto the table, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Oh, come on.” You groan. “No snark? You’re going soft on me.”

“I would, but I’m mildly afraid of triggering Peeta in the process.” She says.

Peeta rolls his eyes, which is so unlike him that you can’t take your eyes off of him. 

“Okay, fine.” Johanna says. “Why do you always have Finnick walk in front of you? You never hold hands and walk side by side anymore.”

You look past her to the concrete ground, and all you picture is the ground opening up, a dark pit waiting for you underneath. It’s pretty self-explanatory on why you act the way you do. You thought she was more observant than this.

“The arena.” You tell her. “The sixth hour.”

“That’s it?” Johanna asks. “You let the jungle get the better of you?”

Finnick clears his throat, shaking his head at her. “Was the blood rain easy for you?”

“It’s not that the jungle got the better of me. Do you know what it’s like to be encased in dirt?”

“I do. We currently are.” Johanna waves her hand in the air.

Your face twists, eyes squinting at her. “What do you mean?”

She opens her mouth, raising her eyebrows as if it’s obvious. “Where do you think we are?”

“District Thirteen.” You say, not getting it. “Where else would we be?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Johanna asks. 

You two stare at each other for a minute. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Johanna. What do you mean we’re encased in dirt?”

“District Thirteen is a bunker.” Peeta tells you plainly. “Everyone knows that.”

No—no, not everyone knows that. You didn’t know that. You’ve been underground this whole time? You thought… you thought that Thirteen was just some building hidden in the woods, too far for the Capitol to reach. You never would’ve guessed it’s a bunker.

You can feel your heart begin to beat in your chest, room elongating due to the new information. You grip your silverware tightly in your hand, knuckles turning pale, swallowing hard.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick asks, trying to pull his hand free.

Your hands pop open, fork clattering against the metal table, fingers beginning to shake. You’re going to get trapped down here. The bunker could explode at any moment. It’ll be much harder to escape a cement chamber than it was to crawl out of dirt.

You can feel the air rapidly passing between your lips, a hand placed on your chest, which seems to grow tight with every passing breath. 

“Honey, breathe.” Finnick tells you, combing your hair out of your face. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ll never get out.” You gasp, shoving your food tray away from you.

You suddenly get to your feet, tripping when you try to step over the bench. You find yourself staring down at the floor, the same one that was opening up earlier. The only thing holding you up are your hands and knees, which are shaking so hard you can’t even see straight.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick shouts, sounding drowned and faraway.

Your hand forms a fist, which you slam against the ground, as if it’ll let you out of the nightmare. You’re stuck, though. You’re back in that box, body twisted in awkward angles to let you breathe, staring into the pitch black—into the unknown.

“Let me out!” You scream, bending your arms to push off. Nothing moves. Nothing ever moves. They won’t let you out, not until they’ve decided you suffered enough. You could be here for the next ten hours if they felt like it.

It’s always a box, and it’s never big enough to let you breathe.

“(Y/n), let’s go.” A voice says, grabbing onto your arms, pulling you to your legs.

You stumble, feeling the sweat dribble down your forehead, reaching out to stabilize yourself. Finnick’s face is in yours, too blurry to focus on. He’s saying something, trying to pull you along, but your knees have locked in place.

He just sweeps you up into his arms, hurrying out of the room.

“Please don’t take me back there.” You cry.

“I won’t, (Y/n).” Finnick places a swift kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

He takes you into the elevator, doesn’t bother shutting the safety door, and presses the button that will bring you straight up without stopping. When you reach what you perceive as the ground floor, you’re met with multiple unwelcoming faces.

“Please, she just needs to be outside.” Finnick begs, pushing through them. “She can’t be in there right now.”

“Let them through!” A voice calls, a man in black armor waves Finnick on.

He wastes no time, running through the space, straight to the nearest door. He backs through it, shielding you from the initial sunlight. As soon as it touches your skin, you break.

Finnick lets you down to your feet, only to watch as you collapse in the grass, crawling a few feet away from the door, sobbing into the Earth. You take handfuls of it in your hands, ripping the roots free from the soil, throwing them away.

Two weeks. 

You’d basically spent two straight weeks in a box. The only time you were let out was to relieve yourself, and then you were locked back in. It didn’t matter how much you screamed, how much you begged, how much you pushed against the walls. You could never leave. 

The spots that had been appearing over your vision are finally disappearing, but the lightheadedness isn’t. You lift your hand in Finnick’s direction, and that’s all he needs before he’s cradling you against his body, trying to console you.

“I’m so sorry.” He tells you, lips pressed to your hair. “I promised to protect you. I told you nothing would happen.”

“You never could’ve known.” You tell him, fingers tight against his jumpsuit. “He’s been trying to get me for years.”

“I know.” Finnick sniffs, holding you tighter. “I tried to stop it. I never wanted him to have you."

You sit in silence for a long time. He rocks you, humming a tune he learned from Katniss, gently massaging your head. You watch as the trees behind him seem to return to normal, no longer so far away. And there's a dull ache in your fingers from how hard you've been squeezing them.

"I need help." You murmur to Finnick.

"With what?" He asks, pulling away to see your face.

"I need to see the head doctor, don't I?" You ask, lips trembling.

Finnick brushes the sensitive skin on your cheeks. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, honey." He tilts his head to look at you better.

"I wanted to be fine." You tell him.

"And it's okay that you're not." He says. "Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Haymitch and I got help while we’ve been here. And we knew it was only a matter of time before you’d follow in our steps.”

Your face twists. “What do you mean it was a matter of time?”

“You started doing things that weren’t like you.” His eyes fall away. “You won’t go into small rooms. You touch the tips of your feet to the ground to make sure it’s solid. You ask people to walk in front of you. You stop in doorways to look inside rooms before deciding to go in.”

Your lips wobble, hearing your mannerisms repeated back to you… You can feel another round of tears coming, building in your eyes. When Finnick looks up to see your reaction, his face softens. He cups your face in his hands, shaking his head.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“We’ll get you help.” He tells you, wiping away the tears that fall with his thumbs. “Just like we did for Annie. You’ll get better.”

“But I’ll never be the same.”

Finnick presses a warm kiss to your lips. “That will never stop me from loving you.”

[cap-winter-barnes]

Home (Tyler Owens x Reader)

You're soaked to the bone, clothes torn, bloody and clinging to your skin. Hair plastered to your face, blooding running down your face like tears. The wind still howls around you as you help people to safety, Tyler by your side. The gash on your forehead is numbed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You've always loved storm chasing, but this time it's different, too close to home.

That moment in the motel pool, clinging to the piping for dear life, Tyler moments from slipping through your fingers - that was the most terrifying moment of your life. Yet here you are still riding your fears.

As the streets of El Reno begin to tumble and tear apart before your eyes, you push forward, trying to save as many people as you can. With no space in the small number of bunkers, basements & shelters there are, you have no choice but to guide everyone to the movie theatre.

"Y/N!" You turn at the sound of Tyler's voice above the cacophony of chaos around you. You still lose you breath every time you look at Tyler Owens and fall in love with him like it's the first time you met all over again. "Baby Girl, we need to get inside before it's too late." His hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you closer to his side.

Tyler was the one who brought your love of storm chasing to life, made your childhood dreams a reality. Your parents thought you were crazy to go off with the self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wrangler' but upon learning the reason behind his dangerous adventures and of your utter happiness and adoration of the man, they came to terms with your decision.

With a chaste kiss to your forehead, Tyler takes your hand in his and pulls you along hurriedly toward the movie theatre. Gathering the last few families through the doors with you and taking a glance back at the fast approaching tornado, you close the door behind you. Once inside the theatre, hunkered down between rows of chairs, the adrenaline begins to fade.

With the horrendous sound of the rain, wind and destruction echoing around the large space, panic begins to set in. This building wasn't made to withstand such a destructive force of nature. Tears spring to your eyes as your fear takes over. The cut on your forehead still bleeding, throbbing above your eyebrow. "Ty?" He can barely hear you above the roar of the storm above you, chunks of ceiling ripping away into the sky. "Ty?"

"I'm here Baby Girl, I'm here." You feel him wrap his body around yours as you both lay on the ground, arms tightly wrapped around them to keep you anchored. His warmth envelopes you and the smell of him immediately calms you somewhat. "I'm here, I gotcha." Sobs wrack your body as you try to take your mind away from this godawful situation. You should be celebrating your engagement but instead you're fighting for your lives. "I gotcha, darlin'. We're gonna go home after this." He kisses your temple, his body wrapping tighter around yours as the eye of the storm grows closer. "Wherever you wanna call home, that's where we'll go. We'll st-"

What's left of the movie screen disappears as the wall is torn away from the building, debris and innocent people being ripped away with it. Your fear returns tenfold, Tyler holding on with all his strength to protect you. His life, his home. "We'll start that family we talked about, hmm?" He presses his cheek against your own. "We're gonna make it through this, darlin'. I promise."

You turn to face him, noses brushing against each other. "I promise you, baby." You waste no time in pressing your lips to his own, the taste of blood, dirt and tears on your tongue as you press yourself to him.

"I love you."

"I love you, Baby Girl." You rest your forehead against his as you both prepare for the worst. The building shudders and shakes, groaning against the worsening wind speed. With eyes closed tightly, hands wound around each others, both you and Tyler hope with all your might that you survive this. But no matter what, you were home. Tyler is your home.

[ultravi0lence14]

SWEET ANGEL

dean winchester x angel!reader

2.5k | angst, enemies to lovers, szn nine

summary: with angel now living in the bunker, dean has to swallow his pride and realize not everyone is out to get him.

WHEN ANGEL FALLS IN LOVE

the drab walls of your room in the winchester’s bunker stared back at you, almost taunting in how their beige and gloomy colours looked around you. it was coming up on week four post fall, almost a month since you were locked out of heaven, and you seemed to be making absolutely no progress.

sam had tried to teach you about humans, explaining different types of slang and technologies that they had created. though, he decided to stop after his brief pop culture unit turned into a brutal argument stemming from your confusion.

it didn’t make it any better that you had no clothes. your white dress from the day you were found under the wilting willow was all you had; grass and mud washed away though the memories still lingered.

everything was starting to become unbearable. the scratchy sheets on your bed, the barren walls with no life or colour. your day to day routine wasn’t too bad. wake up, talk with sam about humanity and it’s customs, try a new snack, and then hobble away to your room where you’d indulge in copious amounts of youtube videos and pinterest boards.

there happened to be an old laptop of sam’s lying around, and after some grumbling from dean, both he and his younger brother helped you set up and navigate the device.

dean was a topic you wished to never bring up or even think about. the man stuck to his word, not talking to you unless you initiated first. even then he sometimes wouldn’t respond. when he did, it was always snippy responses that had you rolling your eyes, retreating to where you actually felt wanted; an enigma of a place that you created in your own company.

the internet was something you marvelled at. looking at a plethora of video content on youtube, and all different types of pictures on pinterest.

a sense of fashion was something you started to pick up on, looking at countless pieces online and even grabbing magazines from the store when sam would take you out with him.

your angelic roots peaked through in the fashion and aesthetic you gravitated towards. a girly vibe was always something you enjoyed, but you also seemed to like the more quirky and unique styles. skirts, plain and colourful tights, bright sweaters and form fitting tops seemed to find a way into your brain; the drab cotton dressed you landed on earth in going to shame as you looked at all the different patterns and fashion choices.

it finally dawned on you that this is what you needed. the boring walls, uncomfortable bedding, and borderline empty room just wasn’t doing it for you anymore. you needed to find yourself, express who you wanted to be without the chains of heaven wrapped around your body.

you needed to go shopping, and fast, but there was simply one problem. sam had left yesterday to go help some hunter friends on a case, leaving in their car and expressing how he’d be back in two weeks time. so, it seemed as though dean was the only person who could help you with your recent epiphany.

the plan was a lost cause, but begrudgingly, you got up from your bed and made the short walk to dean’s room. twirling your hair nervously, you found yourself stood in front of his door, hearing the faint sound of music coming from what you assumed to be his record player. slowly lifting your hand, you let a delicate knock linger on the wood; a drastic change from the intense music playing from behind the door.

music halted, a metaphorical record scratch being heard as heavy feet came towards the door. wind blew the front pieces of your hair back, and you were greeted with dean’s gloomy face as he stared down at you from where he stood.

“what do you want, feathers?” his words had a cadence of annoyance, like he’d rather be doing anything else but talk to you. it made you wring your fingers together, picking at your cuticles as you looked up at him through your lashes. “i have a favour to ask.”

if this were any other occasion, dean would say no. hell, he’d probably slam the door in your face. but those eyes, those goddamn eyes that stared into his soul. they were big, giving your already angelic features a doe-like look. dean was mentally kicking himself at how easily he was folding.

with a sigh, he cocked his head to his right, staring at you intently, a way to mask how your look was making him feel. “i’ll only say yes ‘cause sammy’s away — but tell me what it is first. i’m not going on some whack ass trip all ‘cause you batted your eyes at me all pretty.”

the words that left dean’s lips had your own parting in shock, eyes widening even more. he was so strange. one second he hated you and the next he was flirting like you were a girl he saw at the bar. but you decided a while ago to not question dean’s ways, for diving in too deep would be like swimming in the mariana’s trench.

with a light cough, you continued your recent proposal as dean looked down at you with a cocky grin on his face. “i want to decorate my room, get new clothes, really integrate myself into society. and before you complain, i’ve been wearing the same dress for a month; it’s time for a change.”

dean would love to say no, he truly would. he’d love to laugh in your face, tell you that your sweet and innocent act wasn’t working on him. every angel — besides cas — that sam and dean had come across left them with more problems then they started out with. why should dean trust you?

but over the past weeks, he couldn’t help but realize how unreasonable he was being. cas trusted you, and sam seemed to be doing just fine in hanging out with you everyday. dean had to swallow his pride and realize that someone wasn’t planning to hurt him or his brother, that all you had on your mind was reinventing yourself and not dwindling into psychosis by staring into your empty abyss of a room.

though it was dean at the end of the day, and he could never admit that for once he was wrong. so with practiced ease, he pushed down those feelings and huffed loudly, reaching across the door frame for his keys and pushing past you out the door.

“c’mon feathers,” he grumbled as you stood by his door shocked, not knowing how to react to dean actually wanting to help you. “hurry up before i change my mind.”

the car ride was tense, an awkward tension that had you smushing into the side door. dean’s music blared through the speakers, a testimony on the fact he didn’t want to talk to you. there was no place in your bones that had you wanting to talk to him, but after 2 hours in the car, you got confused on where he was going.

“umm, dean?” you questioned, turning your body towards his and watching as his jaw ticked from his side profile. “where are we going?”

he didn’t turn his head, didn’t look away from the road as his jaw tensed and his fingers gripped on the steering wheel. “minnesota.” your lips parted, confused on why he was going to a whole different state before he spoke again. “you’ve never been to the mall of america. i’m giving you important life experiences, feathers.”

dean watched as your eyes widened, pouty lips opening wide as shock filled your body. he honestly didn’t know why he was driving a whole ten hours for you to go shopping. it was unnecessary, but dean couldn’t stop himself from continuing his drive.

“oh.” your voice came out breathy, your head going down to your chest as you fiddled with your fingers. “well, i’ve never been on a drive this long. what do you do?”

what did you do? when he was with sam, it was like muscle memory. sit in silence for a bit, jokingly bicker back and forth, sam would sleep for a bit. but you had never done this before. so dean had to think of a whole new way to keep you entertained.

he truly was trying to work on his animosity towards you. so with a sigh he turned slightly to look at you. “some people sleep, some talk to the whole time. what do you wanna do, sweetheart?”

“can you tell me about your views on the world?” your words had dean fully turning his head to look at you. he briefly gave you a confused look before turning back to the road. why would you ask that? he understood you were an angel, a heavenly creature that didn’t know anything about her own father’s creation, but why did you what to know his views on it?

sensing his confusion, you backtracked as best as you could, shaking your head and staring out the car window at all the trees and fields melding together like molten lava. “i just mean, i’ve heard how sam feel’s about certain things, but i want to know how you feel. your favourite music, movies, what your dreams are. i don’t know dean, i just want to know more.”

he was shocked, not ever having someone ask him what his dreams and favourite things were. he slightly turned his head again, eyes watching as your hair curtained your face. tentatively, he pulled his hand away from the steering wheel so he could brush the strands away from your face. your cheeks blushed as he tucked it behind your ear, hand gracing your cheek softly as he let it fall down your arm.

“sure, whatever you want, angel.”

that’s how you two spent the rest of the drive; dean raving on about all his favourite things while you silently listened, inventively taking in all his interests. you noticed how over time he became more open, excitedly talking about his interests from childhood to now. it was nice, listening to all the things that made dean, well, dean.

it wasn’t even like he wanted to stop. this was one of the most relaxing drives he’s had in a while. you didn’t interrupt him, you just sat and listened. sitting in his front seat like the heavenly angel you were and looking more like a painting than a celestial being.

dean even drove through the night, not wanting to wake you as you slept so pretty in the car. he didn’t mind not getting any sleep if it meant not waking you up to go to a motel. he was also accustomed to not sleeping for days, so he was honestly fine.

the mall finally came into view just as your eyes peeled open. you were confused, not used to the notion of sleeping. it was like a massive weight had lifted off your chest, arising like snow white out of her bed of flowers. as you noticed where you were, you excitedly looked at the structure, eyes wide in awe as you scrambled out of the car and dashed towards the entrance.

you were like an excited bunny, hopping around from store to store as dean kept a close eye on you. each shop you came out with something new — god bless fake credit cards — and dean had to stop himself from thinking about how pretty you looked in certain items.

at first you needed to figure out what your size was, so dean would be succumbed to sitting in stuffed changing rooms with obnoxious pop music playing while you tried on tops and skirts behind a flimsy curtain. when you came out in your first outfit — a long sleeve black and white striped top with a denim mini skirt — dean almost passed out in the fucking store.

his breath almost lodged in his throat, making him choke on his own breath like a damn child. that white dress of yours never let him see how long your legs truly were. they exemplified the skirt low on your hips while your just as long torso helped the shirt fit perfectly.

he knew you were a tall person, but holy shit.

you were like a fucking model. dean had to remind himself of his forced hate towards you for if he didn’t, he’d push you into that change room with his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

when dean awkwardly mentioned that you probably needed to buy some undergarments, he sat outside the victoria’s secret as you toddled in with a perplexed look on your face and his credit card in hand. the bag you came out with was massive, and dean was enough of a gentlemen to not look inside or too close to it.

the rest of the stores were a blur. a plethora of bags filled with tight fitted zip ups — some knitted, multiple skirts, tight fitted tops, cozy and colourful sweaters, a multitude of coloured tights, brown and black suede boots, and even more dresses that dean swore that it wouldn’t all fit in the impala.

it didn’t make it any better that you even shopped for your room. floral sheets with ruffled pillow cases, a white comforter, multiple tall, thick and short candles to decorate the space, and a multitude of prints and paintings that had dean shocked by your artistic eye.

as you finished at the mall, dean decided that a couple of thrifts store wouldn’t hurt. you were enthralled, looking around and grabbing as many cool trinkets as you could for your shelves. he found you a used cd player, taking you to the section with cd’s so you could pick out some music.

sam had gotten you a spotify account, so you knew the stuff you liked. songs and albums from artists dean didn’t even know you knew about graced your cart. britney spears, alanis morissette, carrie underwood, abba, fleetwood mac, and other similar artists that dean didn’t simply like, but he’d buy them just for you.

he even saw you pick up old one direction and justin bieber cd’s, and decided to not even question you on it.

you were so excited, and dean didn’t want to dim the ravenous sparkle that lilted your eyes. you rambled on about how you were going to revamp the old furniture without even needing to buy new ones, how the art studio stool that you bought for the desk was going to be so much better than the uncomfortable wood chair.

dean promised he’d take you to shops around the bunker to get essentials like comfy clothes and pajama’s, but for now, it was time to go back home.

the ride home had dean’s heart pumping just like before. you kept asking him more questions, asking stories about his childhood and how long he’d been hunting for. you were so interested in his life, which sent a wave of electricity through dean’s bones.

he started to admit to himself that he may be an asshole. how could he be so mean to such a sweet angel like you. your innocence, darling nature, and soft yet exuberant aura left dean feeling like he was floating on a feather.

you just made everything simple, and dean realized that helping you become human was the best thing cas had ever decided for him.

TAGS: @floralscented @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @ostaramoon @haunteres @fallbhind @rubyvhs @foolinthera1n @taurus0queenie33 @vaiieydoii @jasvtsc @bitchykittenconnoisseur @angel-inspiredblog @galacticalllcafffeine @pascal-rascal424 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @fayeisuppose @geisterfvhrer @bluemerakis @si1ver06 @drqstqr @wh0s-ra3 @supernatural-bangtanboys @whump-loverz @mostlymarvelgirl @d3anwinchesterswife @youdontknowe @oceanolokys

*creating my perfect 2000s makeover montage in this chapter and living vicariously through it. also poor angel doesn’t know what online shopping is. she’s going to be a depop warrior tho i will tell you that much.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Seong Gi-hun x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Smut & Fluff

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: Squid Game

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, piv, oral (F receiving), soft smut, very short mention of choking, Gi-hun being an absolute sweetie

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After surviving a number of games already, you are tired and want to go home which you know you can’t, but luckily Gi-hun is there to take care of you .

YOU LET OUT A loud sigh for probably the 100th time that evening as you roll onto your other side, trying to get comfortable in your bunk bed.

“Why can’t I just fall asleep?” You murmur, slowly sitting up right while looking around the room.

Your eyes fall on Young-il, Dae-ho, Jung-bae and Jun-hee who are all soundlessly asleep. Then your eyes fall on Gi-hun who is guarding your self made bunker.

Slowly and carefully, you slip out of bed and head for Gi-hun, sitting down next to him without saying anything.

Gi-hun turns his head to look at you and he can’t help but feel bad when he sees the tiredness on your face. Why is she awake? She should be sleeping.

As if you heard Gi-hun’s thoughts, you turn to face him. “I can’t sleep.” Gi-hun gives you a slight nod before going back to staring ahead of him.

“I’m sorry that I failed to get you out of here.” His voice breaks a little and you notice it immediately. “Don’t. You did your best. If these pigs want to stay to earn their money, let them. Sooner or later they will realize how stupid it was to vote for continuing the games. Half of them won’t even make it until the end.” You scoff at the last part which makes Gi-hun look at you again.

You had met Gi-hun on the first day of being in this hell hole. He had helped you cross the finish line during Red light, Green light. And since that moment you stuck by him, forever grateful that he saved you just seconds before the timer ran out.

When he told everyone that he had played these games before, you were shocked. Why would anyone ever return to here out of free will? Gi-hun explained everything to you. About how he joined the games to pay all of his debts. He told you about the games he played and about the people he lost during them. He also told you how his childhood friend ended his life so Gi-hun could live and get the money. In the end Gi-hun had told you that he came back for a reason. He wanted to end these horrific games, even if it meant his death.

So you joined his team. Not only because you stood behind Gi-hun’s way of thinking, but also to protect him. And he did the same for you.

Gi-hun had grown quite fond of you. He had this urge to protect you and help you with everything he could. He was always worried about you during the games. Especially during Mingle. During one of the first rounds, he lost sight of you and when he heard the ringing of the gunshots from the small room he was in, he couldn’t help but look if one of the fallen bodies were yours. Luckily that was not the case.

The moment the doors opened, you sprinted towards Gi-hun. “you’re alive!” Gi-hun beamed as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Shh don’t apologize, it’s okay. I’m just glad that you’re alive.” Gi-hun reassured you. From that moment on Gi-hun did not once let go of you during remaining time of the game.

“I promise I will get you out of here.”

You look up from your feet to see Gi-hun staring at you. You give him a weak smile before laying your head on his shoulder.

“Please don’t die Gi-hun.” You say weakly. “I’m not planning to.” Gi-hun smiles softly.

“Ahem.”

Both you and Gi-hun turn around to see Young-il standing there. “You two should head to bed. It’s my time to guard anyway.” He says while scratching the back of his neck.

Gi-hun nods and gets back on his feet. He holds out his hand for you to take it, which you do and he helps you back on your feet as well.

“Good night you two.” You hear Young-il say as you head towards your bed, still holding Gi-hun’s hand.

“Gi-hun?” you say softly. “Yes?” He questions while looking at you.

“Could you…could you sleep next to me tonight. I really don’t want to be alone.”

Gi-hun’s heart practically melts upon hearing your words so he nods his head with a kind smile on his face.

He watches how you get ‘comfortable’ in your bunkbed before he joins you. “Are you sure this is okay?” Gi-hun asks as he awkwardly tries not to touch you, afraid he might cross your boundaries.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him while looking at him. Gi-hun’s breathing hitches in his throat as he looks at you. You are so beautiful and kind. You don’t belong here.

“What are you thinking about?” You wonder. Gi-hun just blinks at you. “May I kiss you?” He suddenly asks.

You are a bit taken aback by his question but you nod nonetheless. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it yourself.

“Yes you may.” You smile as both you and Gi-Hun inches closer to each other.

Gi-hun gently places his hand on your cheek before colliding his lips with yours. It’s a passionate kiss, both wanting to feel the other as close as possible.

You immediately kiss back as your hands make their way to Gi-hun’s hair. A small moan slips past his lips as you gently tug on his locks.

He breathes your name and it sounds so beautiful coming from his lips.

“Gi-hun…” You look into his eyes and you see that they are filled with love and sadness, and maybe even anger. But still he kisses you with the upmost gentleness, afraid he might hurt you accidentally.

“I need you.” You whisper and it doesn’t take long for Gi-hun to be on top of you. He leans on his arms which are placed on either side of your face as he looks down at you.

“You are so pretty Gi-hun.” You smile while softly caressing his cheek. Gi-hun can only smile at your words until he feels your hand in his pants.

“A-are you sure?” He asks quickly. “Only if you are. I want you to be comfortable too.” You explain him while placing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m comfortable.” Gi-hun breathes carefully. “Then i am too.” You slip your hand into Gi-hun’s boxers and carefully wrap your finger’s around his cock.

“Oh fuck…” Gi-hun moans softly while hiding his face in your neck. You begin to pump your hand up and down his cock while Gi-hun is placing wet kisses along your jawline.

“It feels so good.” He says before kissing you again. “Good.” You mumble against his lips with a smile.

You feel Gi-hun grinding against your hand as a way to tell you he needs more.

You want to pull his pants down but he stops you. “Not yet.” You watch with confusion as Gi-hun taps your hips as a way to tell you to lift them up.

The moment you do, Gi-hun slides your sweatpants down and settles between your legs. You watch how he places soft kisses along the insides of your thighs before pressing a kiss to your clit.

“May I?”

“Yes please.” You breathe. Gi-hun smiles before pulling your panties to the side. He carefully spreads your lips and dives in.

“O-oh god!” You moan, immediately putting your hand over your mouth as you feel Gi-hun’s tongue between your folds.

Gi-hun stares up at you with his big puppy eyes while licks at your clit. You try your best to stay still but when you feel two of his fingers entering your pussy, you just can’t.

“Fuck Gi-hun!” You whisper as you clamp your hand down in his hair.

“You taste so good sweetheart. I just can’t get enough of it.” Gi-hun smiles, his face covered in your juices as he keeps licking your pussy.

“Gi-hun I can’t! I’m close.” You moan while bucking your hips. “Then let go for me love.” He murmurs with a lazy grin, still focused on your pussy.

You are immediately sent over the edge as you cover Gi-hun’s face in your juices. You can feel Gi-hun licking up every drop until his face is on your eye level again.

“How did that feel love?” he asks while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Amazing.” You breathe with a slight chuckle.

“Is it now my turn to make you feel good?” You ask in a seductive tone. Gi-hun clears his throat as he nods, suddenly feeling shy.

“Come on now, don’t be shy baby.” You place a gentle kiss on his lips as you push him off of you, telling him to lay down on his back for you.

Once Gi-hun is settled, you straddle his lap, both hissing when his cock makes contact with your pussy.

“Is this okay?” You ask Gi-hun while playing with his hair. “Y-yes.” He stammers. “Relax baby.” You chuckle as you kiss his cheek.

Gi-hun watches how you grab his cock and align it with your pussy before slowly sliding down, making both you and Gi-hun moan as he grips the sheets in his fists.

“You feel amazing sweetheart.” Gi-hun whimpers, placing both of his hands on your hips, slowly guiding you up and down his cock.

“I can say the same about you.” You moan while steadying yourself with placing one hand on his chest.

Gi-hun watches how you bounce on his cock, trying his best not to make too much noise, but boy is it hard.

Every time you bounce on his cock he wants to scream out, letting everyone know how good you make him feel, but he knows he can’t, so he bites his lip instead.

“You’re so good to me Gi-hun.” You moan while leaning forward so you can kiss his neck.

“Oh baby…” He groans while digging his fingers into your sides. “Stay like this okay.” He whispers in you ear before starting to thrust up into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you bite down onto Gi-hun’s shoulder to keep you from making any noise.

“Oh fuck you feel so good baby. So tight and warm, i can stay like this forever.” Gi-hun moans as his thrusts get harder and deeper.

“Gi-hun…” You whimper. “What is it love?” He asks immediately. “Kiss me.” You demand with a slight moan.

“Yes ma’am.” Gi-hun smiles before pulling you into a kiss. You both moan against each other’s mouth while you meet Gi-hun’s thrusts with your own.

“I’m close sweetheart.” Gi-hun breathes while looking at you. “M-me too.” You say while unconsciously wrapping your hand around his throat.

Gi-hun’s eyes widen at the feeling and he can’t help but go even harder now.

“Gi-hun i’m s-so close!” You whisper in his ear while tightening your hold on his throat.

“Come for me baby.” Gi-hun groans. “Be a good girl.” At hearing those words slip from Gi-hun’s lips, you can’t hold it in anymore.

Gi-hun is quick to cover your mouth with his hand as you come onto his cock, soaking it with your juices.

“Fuck that’s it.” Moans Gi-hun before spilling inside of you. You let out a soft whimper as you feel him fill you up with his cum.

“Gi-hun….” you sigh as you collapse on top of him. Suddenly you become aware of your hand being wrapped around his throat so you immediately let go.

“Oh my god i am so sorry.” You quickly apologize, but Gi-hun is quick to shut you up with a kiss.

“Don’t. I liked it.” He smiles. “Really?” You ask surprised. Gi-hun immediately nods. “You should definitely do it more often.”

You and Gi-hun stare at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Shh!” You laugh as you cover Gi-hun’s mouth with your hand while he does the same with you.

It’s suddenly very quiet as both you and Gi-hun calm down from your highs.

“Thank you.” You suddenly say. “For what?” Gi-hun asks as he pulls you into his chest.

“For being there for me.”

Gi-hun can’t help but smile as he gently ruffles your hair. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head before closing his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me sweetheart. Now get some sleep, you deserve it.”

“Will you stay here with me?” You ask as you look up at him. Gi-hun smiles, his eyes still closed.

“Of course love, i am not going anywhere.”

I really hope everyone liked how it turned out! It was so much fun to write for Gi-hun. He is quite literally underated in his own show😭

If any of you have any requests about Gi-hun or In-ho, feel free to drop them in my inbox!

[esote-rika]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝟐 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Waldorf!Reader Category: fluff Summary: Interactions with the local police makes you realize that you’ve done too good a job at Spencer Reid’s makeover. Content: 1.3k words, Early s2 when Elle was on medical leave, glasses!Spencer, jealous reader, post-case clean up, part one here (not necessary to read). A/N: Anon, thank you for requesting more Waldorf!reader <3 I’m making this into a semi-connected series instead of just a bunch of unrelated one shots because I miss her and I have ideas for how she fits into the team as the seasons go on. Plus, I want to write a reader that’s in the BAU but isn’t always hooking up with Spencer lol.

Four confirmed deaths. Another woman had been missing, her bright eyed smile looking plastic and hollow as you stare at the picture attached to the case file. Alana Taylor, the most recent victim, the abduction that prompted JJ to uproot the team from a period of relative calm and travel to rural Ohio. 

The case had been particularly perplexing; an unsub that killed with sadism, but disposed of victims in a way that suggested remorse. Your arrival should have been cause for relief, but it only led to some strange struggle for power between Hotch and the local sheriff, who had only accepted help because the media had started to flock into their small town. 

Regardless of difficulties and differences, Alana Taylor had been saved. Found in an underground bunker beneath an unassuming farmhouse. A success, as far as cases go, although it’s difficult to count it as a success when you know there’s been four prior lives you couldn’t save. Still, it’s a moment of cautious optimism, a case ready to be wrapped up and typed into reports.

Around you, the precinct is abuzz with activity. The rest of the team has left for interviews with the victim’s family, last minute debriefings with the local police. You’re at one of the interrogation rooms, which the BAU had made into a temporary conference spot, tasked with the insignificant grunt work—reorganizing the case files and reports with Reid. Apparently, being a genius doesn’t save him from the regular people job. 

You wouldn’t mind being paired with him, normally. He’s diligent, rarely complains (something Morgan enjoys extensively, even in jest). Mostly, organizing papers with Spencer just means enduring an earful of scientific trivia and random statistics. The same thing is happening today, only that he’s not telling them to you.

Rather, the receiver of his tangential spiel is one of the local officers in the department, Officer Mitchell. Who happens to be young. And pretty. And hanging onto his every word. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s doing. While the officers had been given explicit instructions to help the BAU, you know this one’s interest lies beyond providing assistance. No, the too loud laughs, the fluttering lashes, and deliberate hair tucking are all thinly veiled, rather clumsy attempts at flirting. 

It’d be amusing if it weren’t so pathetic.

Ironically, the genius in question doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on, rattling off statistics and differences in distance between abduction sites—which had ultimately led to the identification of the perpetrator—utterly oblivious to the flirtatious attention being thrown his way.

Truthfully, you can’t really blame her. Reid seems to have taken your fashion recommendations to heart, avoiding clashing prints in favor of a more flattering color palette. He’s in shades of blue today, a button down the color of cotton candy clouds on a summer morning, tucked neatly beneath a navy blue sweater vest. You’d taken him to a barbershop a few days ago too, instructing the man to cut into his hair in order to give it some dimension. He looks good, even with his glasses—especially with his glasses—which he’s wearing because he’d run out of solution for his contacts. You’re tempted to tell him to keep this bespectacled look, it’s working for him.

But not right now, because 1) you don’t want him to think you’ve been scrutinizing his appearance, 2) you can’t because his attention lies elsewhere and you’re not about to compete for that, thank you very much, and 3) that’s an inappropriate comment to make in the workplace and you are the pinnacle of professionalism. 

Unlike other people.

You glare at Officer Mitchell.

You don’t even realize another team member has returned until a hand rests on your shoulder. You flinch, the action extracting your attention from the scene before you. Looking up, JJ’s amused blue eyes meet yours. “You're almost done?”

“Yeah, almost.” you reply. Grumble, really, as your gaze inexplicably returns to Reid and Officer Mitchell. Still wrapped up in conversation, neither of them seem to notice JJ’s arrival, or particularly interested in helping you. “No thanks to these two.”

JJ chuckles, “Shouldn’t you go rescue her?” 

“Rescue her?” 

“Spence is rambling, you know how he gets.”

“Yeah, and she’s openly flirting on the job.” it comes out in a hiss paired with narrowed eyes. Perhaps too harsh for the conversation, but the idea that anyone needs to be saved from Reid’s rambling doesn’t sit right with you. Rescue is what you do to people in trouble, who need help. Officer Mitchell is not in trouble, and if she needed help, she’d be casting glances to the rest of the room, not looking at Spencer Reid like he holds the key to the universe. Matter of fact, it seems like she’s the complete opposite of in trouble.

Something crosses over JJ’s face, fleeting by so quickly you couldn’t really place it. 

“He’s talking her ear off,” There��s a placating tone to JJ’s voice that you don’t appreciate.

It makes you catch yourself though, so you attempt to soften your own voice, trying to match her calm one but yours still comes across sneering (Oh well, she’s the liaison for a reason), “Yeah, but she initiated the conversation. If she voluntarily subjects herself to Reid’s tangents, that’s not on me. Neither of them need rescue, they seem perfectly happy in each other’s company. ”

Try as you might, that last bit comes out snappy. 

JJ catches it too, shrewd as always. But she doesn’t comment on it, not directly at least. “Hm, I did notice a few people back in the office giving him more attention than usual.”

“Yeah, so he’d proofread their reports for them.” you stand with a huff, paperwork and evidence carefully balanced inside the police issued cardboard box. JJ follows you as you stride out of the room, leaving Reid and Officer Mitchell alone to do whatever they so wish. None of it is your business anyway, you just wish he’d been able to multitask and not leave the dumb task to you.

“Mhm, are you sure it has nothing to do with the little makeover you gave him?” JJ says, matching your quick steps. 

You don’t like the little smirk playing on the blonde woman’s lips. Her idea isn’t far off, Reid does look good. Still himself, with his crooked ties and the converse you couldn’t talk him into replacing, but now more elevated. Less nerdy kid and more rumpled academic. Which means you did exactly what you’d originally set out to do. Reflect who he is through clothes, communicate his intelligence and competency just with a few styling adjustments.

“Good job to me, then.” Why did that sentence leave through gritted teeth? 

JJ doesn’t dignify you with a response, and simply watches you with that same, infuriating smile, as though she knows something you don’t. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It doesn’t seem like nothing, but you let it go, walking outside to the SUV that will take you to the airport. Gathered around, you notice that the team is missing one specific member, who’s probably still busy inside, being flirted with.

“Hey, where’s Reid?” Morgan seems to have the same idea. He directs the question at you, though, seeing as you were the last one to be paired with him.

“I’m not his keeper,” you reply dismissively, brushing past the burly man to slide into the back of the car. Any more mention of Reid and that officer and you’re afraid you’ll snap and say something you’d regret.

Outside, Morgan shoots JJ a confused look, baffled by your abruptness. The blonde woman simply shrugs, wearing the same smile from earlier, keeping her thoughts to herself. It’s too soon for anything, anyway, and if she so much as mentions the faintest bit of her theory, JJ knows the entire team will know in an instant. Better to let it play out. Better you figure it for yourself.

waldorf!reader tags @lokisswiftie @lillaberry @libraprincessfairy @yasmin12312 @saintkittykat @brainisrotted @misspendragonsworld @fefa-la-printcessa

[schlattslonghairytoes]

can i come over?

when schlatt moves to texas an unexpected storm leaves him with no where to go, will you offer up a room to your friend?

streamer reader x streamer schlatt

you had lived in texas since you attended college at texas a and m

orginally you went to ithica college, but you transfered during your sophmore year

you now had your own apartment as you were out of college

you knew a couple of other content creators who lived in the area, but not many

your closest friend, ted nivison, lived in los angeles, but you went to visit him every now and again

your phone rang, "gangnum style" blasting in your ears and groaned, you reached for your phone, only to be met with a picture of you and theodore from college freshman year

"i need your help guppie." teds face filled the screen and his dopey smile made you laugh

"you woke me up mr grouper." your nicknames came from the first time you got high together and decided to watch bubble guppies

"wakey wakey! does this fit look ok?" he set the camera down and walked away from the camera, he did a little spin before grabbing his phone again

"yes you look very fashionable theo. can i go back to sleep now?" ne nodded but very quickly realized he had something else to tell you

"wait really quick, remember schlatt? you met him during the lunch club era" you scanned your sleepy memory trying to remember this guy you probably met once.

"um, tall right? good looking?" ted nodded and laughed, sitting down at his desk

"glad to hear thats what you remember. anyways, im pretty sure hes moving out to Austin in the coming months, so you guys should talk cause he only knows a handfull of people out there." ted said

"cool. can i please sleep now." your tired brain did not care for this random man barely remember.

"yes, reach out to him ok?" he smiled at the camera

"yes theodore kennedy nivison junior. love you. byeeeee" and with that you ended the call.

you didnt really think about teds call all that much, untill around 3 months later you recieved a text from an unknown number

even though schlatt then tried ghosting you, ted finally convinced him to man up and keep talking to one of the few people living where he was soon moving

over the span of a month you two had been constantly talking, to the point where you were starting to consider him as one of your closest friends

you would facetime atleast once a day, text everyday, and you even streamed twice together on your account

you were getting very excited to have a new friend so close by

then came the storm.

you lived alone with your dog, and you knew your house would not be ready for this shit.

you stalked up on food, blankets, flashlights

basically anything you could get your hands on

and you bunkered down at your house with your dog, getting ready to thug the next few days out

you were scrolling on your phone, on the first night of the storm, power already out, house fucking freezing, and you see schlatt had posted on his snap story

you open it to find a video of him yelling outside of a completely dark marriot

screaming about how thats where he is supposed to be staying

and you were getting very worried, like your new friend who youve never met in person, might deadass freeze to death.

so you did what any caring soul like yourself would do

you swipe up on his story with your address and a follow up message saying "pull up to mi casa papi 🍆 "

and hope he would hurry so you could go to bed

around twenty minutes later you layed cuddled with your dog bundled in over ten blankets

when felt your house fucking shake with how hard schlatt was banging on your door

you walked downstairs, and opened the door, to a giant, shivering, and covered in snow schlatt, who you immediatly wrapped in a hug and dragged upstairs

"c'mon lets get you nice and warm." you brought him to your room where you turned your bed into a nice warm spot for him "i have some clothes for you, they were my brothers so they should fit" you smiled up at him

he hadnt said much yet and you could see the stress seeping through his face, he dropped his stuff and kinda just hugged you.

"you ok?" you laugh as he pulls away from the hug. he smiles sadly before sitting down on your bed

"ive been better ill be honest" he laughed quietly.

"some first day here huh?" you pat him on the back, trying to comfort him.

"you could say that. holy shit i thought that was a stuffed animal" he says looking at your dog

"go change dumbass, bathrooms on the right" you watch as schlatt takes the clothes and walks to your bathroom, you think you even hearhim flick on the light switch.

"do you want a flashlight?" you yell out to him, to which you get a small "please" back in return, you laugh and leave a flashlight infront of the door

you get comfy in the small sofa in your room, as schlatt was not going to fit on it, and your other bedroom was turned into your office. but you didnt mind him taking the bed

he came out of the bathroom minutes later and quietly shut the door behind him when he turned around he was looking at you kinda funny

you began to ask what was wrong before he cut you off "absolutely not, im not kicking you off your bed, get up" he towered over you on the sofa

"schlatt shut the fuck up, your not fitting on this thing, i barely do."

"you have a king size bed, were sharing, me you and that oddly stuffed animal looking dog c'mon get a move on" he got into the bed and waited for you and your dof to follow him

you laughed and made your way over, your dog following closely behind. you flop down onto the bed and look at the man laying next to you

"crazy this is the first time we're meeting" he says getting comfy

you lay another blanket on the both of you as your dog jumps up on the bed and lays between the two of you "im glad ted introduced us" you take a moment to inspect him

you two had called on discord many times and FaceTimed, but nothing lived up to the real thing.

"im really happy he introduced us too."

guys i kinda hate how this turned out

sorry 😣 😥 😦 😧 😨 😪 😢 😞 😰 😿 🫤 ❤️‍🩹 ☹️ 😐

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.