#honestly that would be such a bad day for both of them

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[chevroletdean]

sibling!reader dealing with demon!dean headcanons (req.) ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: None, just platonic Winchester!Reader (fem) and her brothers Genre: Angst, fluff To note/warnings: Hurt/comfort, grief (temporary character death, as in Sam and Reader think Dean died), canon level violence A/N: A great way to start the year is definitely getting a cool request by @midnight--raine! Tysm, dear, your praise means a lot to me <3 and I 100% agree, Demon!Dean is terrifying. Still my favorite arc ever, because I’m a sucker for the nitty, gritty, dark and scary, but yes. Credit & links: dividers ──〃★ request here

Sam’s heart breaks twice that day. For one, there is the crushing grief that comes with watching the life disappear from his brother’s eyes. Then the realization: How could he possibly tell his sister what happened? Dean’s death is tearing him apart, and he knows it will absolutely destroy her.

There’s no easy way to deliver the news. But, alas, he’s spending a good amount of time sitting alone in the Impala, Dean’s lifeless body in the backseat. The ride back to the bunker was the hardest ever, the silence nearly driving him insane. Sam is thinking back and forth on what to say, what to do.

He knows waltzing in, carrying the corpse is not an option. If anything, Sam doesn’t want her to see Dean like that at all. Though he figures she’ll probably want to see for herself.

She probably already knows something bad happened the second Sam enters the bunker. Of course she does, her brothers have trained her to stay alert 24/7, to look at her surroundings with a keen eye — Dean would be so proud of her people reading skill right now. Sam’s by himself and his expression… he’s devastated, though he tries to keep it together for her sake. It can only mean one thing.

It feels wrong right away. She can tell. It’s obvious when he doesn’t answer her questions. “Where’s Dean?” Silence. It speaks volumes. “It’s not funny, this is a dumb prank.” Sam still can’t bring himself to speak up.

She runs past him, straight outside to look for Dean, even when Sam tries to stop her.

Sam’s glad he thought of draping a jacket over Dean’s body before talking to his sister. She shouldn’t have to see her brother so lifeless, after all. This view alone, even just through the car window, is enough to traumatize her.

What happened isn’t his fault, but Sam still apologizes over and over again. He can just stand there and feel guilty while he’s holding her shaky form.

It’s not their first rodeo with death and while it doesn’t make it any less sad, her tears convince Sam even more that he has to fix this, somehow.

That night she can’t sleep. Nothing can console her, not even Sam. Though she is grateful to have him at her side.

It’s the same for Sam, honestly. With both of them restless, they dig through the library, they try to find anything to bring Dean back.

In the end, she’ll probably fall asleep right at the desk, her eyes heavy and sore from crying and reading. It’s not a peaceful slumber by all means, it’s more like her brain and body just shut down.

Sam carries her to her room, but the second he tucks her into bed and wants to leave again, she wakes and sobs again.

She’s terrified to spend the night alone, nightmares haunting her. If it were for her, she’d be up and in the library again, but Sam manages to make her agree to a compromise: She will try and get some rest and he will stay with her.

None of them get another wink of sleep that night, she’s staining Sam’s shirt with tears while he’s busy brushing his fingers through her hair.

The next couple of days are rough. The bunker feels like a graveyard, Dean’s presence is definitely missing.

She finds herself wanting to prank her brother like every morning — she’d always exchange his shampoo bottle with the ketchup bottle, shed secretly put a Celine Dion cassette in the Impala. Now, there’s no point for any of that.

Instinctively she grabs onto any piece of Dean she still has. She takes one of his shirts to wear, his scent still lingering in the fabric. She doesn’t touch the piece of pie in the fridge, which she’d usually steal, but she wants to keep it there, preserve it, just in case Dean will magically return.

When Dean’s body disappears, it’s like losing him all over again at first. He’s suddenly gone, again, and panic sets in. And it feels even more permanent. However, it’s also a glimmer of hope, right? He has to be somewhere, so is he alive after all?

Sam’s more reluctant to get his hopes up high. He’s dealt with heavy losses before. Seeing his sister motivated to find Dean is a double-edged sword. It’s the first time since Dean’s death that he sees her eyes sparkle again. But he’s also scared she’ll break down even more when this turns out to be another tragedy.

It’s because of that very reason that Sam’s working on this without telling his sister. He hates keeping secrets from her, he hates lying to her, but he can’t bring himself to feed into her delusions only for her to end up even more hurt. So, when he’s able to track Dean down, he’s not telling anyone.

It bites him in the ass. While Sam’s out trying to find Dean, Dean’s already on the way to find her.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, honestly. Wide eyes staring at him and filled with tears. Suddenly all her hunting skills are out the window. She doesn’t care to throw holy water at him, she doesn’t think of nicking him with silver. Demons, skinwalkers, none of it exists to her in that moment. All she can think about is her big brother being back.

She jumps right into his arms, scolding him, whining and sniffling and hugging him with a death grip.

Dean’s quiet, eerily so, but that’s not enough to make her suspect anything just yet. Maybe he’s tired, maybe she’s confused, it’s so much all at once. She refuses to let go of him, afraid he’ll slip away again, so she drags him to the kitchen and happily presents the piece of pie to him.

Dean doesn’t even touch it. Hell, he’s not even looking at it.

She quickly texts Sam, letting him know Dean’s back at the bunker. Then, when she looks up from her phone again and sees Dean not eating, she’s starting to get doubtful.

Dean not digging into pie? Is he sick or something? “You okay?”

There’s a grin on Dean’s lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it feels off. It feels dangerous. “Never felt better.”

The wheels are turning in her head and her blood runs cold. She didn’t do any of the routine checks. Why didn’t she do any of the routine checks? Sam and Dean have taught her better, but she was so caught up in the moment and…

Her phone buzzes and Sam’s reply is simple. ‘That is not Dean.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Demon. Get away.’

The three or four seconds she spent looking at her phone are what almost gets her killed. It’s plenty of time for Dean to grab the kitchen knife and aim it at his sister instead of the pie.

She manages to dodge, somehow, although Dean makes it sound like he just enjoys playing with his prey. As his eyes turn jet-black, she knows she’s in trouble.

“I’ll give you a headstart, sis,” he hums and even his voice sounds so twisted, so wrong.

“Headstart?,” she echoes. “Dean, please, you don’t wanna—”

“Ten… Nine…”

He absolutely wants to. Sam’s right, this isn’t Dean. Not their Dean.

She bolts out of the kitchen as fast as she can. The bunker is big, but the problem remains that they all know it inside and out — where can she possibly hide? Should she lock herself in the dungeon? Should she ditch the place altogether?

“Six… Five…”

Panicked, she just makes a run for it, not knowing where to quite yet, but knowing it had to be away. As far away as possible. She scrambles to find a weapon, anything to fend off a demon, though she hates the thought of fighting against Dean. Not only would she not stand a chance against her brother, she could never bring herself to harming him or his vessel.

“Ready or not here I come.”

She’s definitely not ready. He could’ve given her a minute, an hour, a freakin’ year, nothing could prepare her for such a chase.

Stupidly, she decides to hide in Dean’s room. It’s far from the safest option, but it’s where her feet have carried her. She can’t really think of any room in the bunker that could protect her from the demonic version of her brother, but here at least, she’s surrounded by happy memories, right?

She’s holding her breath, clutching Ruby’s knife in her trembling hand.

It’s only through a trick that she’s able to survive. Of course, Dean finds her, but she’s fast and able to (a) distract him long enough to make preparations and (b) then lure him to the dungeons.

Dean’s not dumb, he knows there’s a devil’s trap. But he didn’t know there were two of them. She’s haphazardly drawn one he didn’t see until he is standing in it.

Bless all the times she has cursed in the past. She has complained to Sam so often whenever he had forced her to practice drawing pentagrams. She’ll make sure to thank him for it later.

Speaking of the devil, Sam returns just a bit later. He must’ve broken several traffic laws racing back to the bunker, but between that and his sister’s safety, she obviously came first.

He thought she’d be pissed at him for lying to her, but she has a priority too right now: Turning Dean into a human again.

It’s definitely not an easy task. More specifically, it’s downright nauseating to witness the purification process. Dean’s clearly suffering, the pain must be agonizing, but they are able to heal him.

Dean’s back, and he’s human again and it’s all she could’ve ever asked for.

Now, for Dean? Shit, he won’t be able to look into the mirror for a very long time. He always sees himself as the family’s protector. His siblings are his world and to think he attacked his baby sister? It’s killing him.

He feels so guilty he’s not able to look her in the eyes, let alone talk to her or touch her.

Which is why when she hugs him, clinging to his form sobbing, he thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of trust. His greatest fear is that she’s now scared of him. She’d have every right to be, he attacked her with a damn knife.

“It wasn’t you. It was your body, but not your mind. I mean, that thing comes up with all sorts of dumb things, but not that kind of dumb.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that, of course she’s already back to sibling banter. How she manages to pretend like nothing happened is beyond him.

The events stick with him for a very long time, they never fully disappear from his conscience. He wishes he could wipe the memory of your panicked eyes from his brain, but that image will still haunt him in his grave.

Something has changed though. His shampoo is shampoo and his cassettes are his cassettes. There’s always pie in the fridge and she’s not playing any pranks on him anymore.

It makes him feel even worse. Especially when she explains to him that she’d rather be nice to her pain-in-the-ass brother and have him alive than be mean and have him dead.

“You know one thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other, right?”

It almost sounds like she’s blaming herself. As if Dean’s death was her punishment for bickering 24/7. It’s not right, if anyone should be feeling guilty, it’s him. And he does. God, he does.

It’s very obvious that she’s more afraid of losing him again than she is of the monster he’s become.

He’s set out on playing double the amount of pranks on her then, in hopes of getting some normalcy back. Of reminding his little sister that he’s still here, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be her pain-in-the-ass brother that’ll look out for her and keep her safe and play pranks on her.

When one morning he finds his toothbrush in a jar of pickles, bristles soaked in the vinegar-y liquid, it’s a small victory. Her post-it note with a smug smiley drawn on it is a step in the right direction.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

@whump-loverz @cassieriddle713 @ilovedeanwinchester4

Sam Winchester Taglist (Put a book emoji 📚 in the comments to be added to the Sam x Reader taglist): @s7nburn @whump-loverz

Please note: Ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!

[angelwishess]

I mentioned this before— But the character Kyra was originally meant to be shipped with was actually Jamil. But!! After some thought, I ultimately decided that Floyd would be a better partner for Kyra instead.

Soo, take this post as me rambling about how and why Floyra came to be, and why I scrapped the Jamyra concept all together.

Kyra already had an established character and backstory before being shipped with anyone. Usually, I like to create the characters and flesh them out before shipping them with anyone. Although there are times where I do create characters for the sake of shipping (*cough cough* Jester *cough cough*) my process with developing OCs usually focuses on them as a character individually first, then their relationships with canon characters after.

And at first, I thought the idea of Jamil x Kyra was interesting. My main reasoning for Kyra x Jamil was the idea of it.

Caged bird metaphors for days, both come from somewhat similar issues when it comes to not being allowed to be their own person, ect ect. (Also, if you couldnt tell already im a SUCKER for Opposites Attract and Grumpy x Sunshine)

In a way, I liked it because they were so similar yet so different lorewise, having this strict set of expectations put unto them and not being able to act against those expectations— but yet, despite how similar they are, they ended up completely different.

And while it is a good trope— It just simply doesn’t work. Why? Well, because Jamil, putting it bluntly, isn’t the kind of person that would be best for Kyra. (ITS OKAY!!! HES STILL BIG BRO!!!!! I saved him from a neverending headache w Kyra LMFAOO)

I started to take into consideration Kyra herself. What kind of person would she want? How does she love? What kind of person would she be attracted to? What does she need in someone? Who would make her happy?

after having to bottle up all her feelings and ignoring her own desires and wants— Kyra needs someone that would support her.

She doesn’t need nor wants someone to stop her from doing the things that she does, what she needs is someone to support her. And I doubt that Jamil would be supportive of her shennanigans LMAOO 😭

Then I got to thinking, if not Jamil who else could I ship her with ??

Then I realized, “Oh, Floyd would be perfect, wouldn’t he?”

Now, Floyd has always been my favorite character from TWST! But I just didnt want to be biased and miss out on good ship material with another character😭 funny how it worked out though WHAHAHA

Not only would Floyd support her shennanigans— he’d encourage her to do it. And while that probably isn’t the best in some cases, Kyra definetly deserves someone that would support her actual wants after all this time.

I mentioned this before, but Kyra sees alot of herself in Floyd. Yeah, they are weirdly similar (and that actually was not planned), and thats exactly the reason why Kyra was ever attracted to Floyd in the first place. (In general, not even romantically lmao)

And seeing him show all of these traits without a care in the world, to act out on what he feels and what he wants, it encourages her to do the same. And it encourages her to be herself even more, which is exactly what she needs!

There are still times Kyra is hesitant to do things, old habits die hard, but Floyd just being himself is enough to encourage Kyra to do the same. He influences her in a way others view as “bad”, but for someone like Kyra, its honestly the best for her.

Not only that, but I personally see Floyd as the kind of person to not really care about looks. Yeah, he can see when someone’s attractive and he acknowledges it, but he really does not care 😭

In my opinion, he values personality much more. Anyone who can entertain him or whoever he deems “fun”.

Kyra has never been seen for anything other than her beauty. Always seen but never heard. And while Floyd does think shes pretty… He really didn’t care about that when they first met LMAOO

It would be refreshing for Kyra to have someone who actually didn’t care all that much for her appearance. Instead hanging out with her for her personality. She was so used to men always sticking by her because of her pretty face that it was a breath of fresh air when she realized that Floyd wasn’t like that, and they were just genuinely friends.

The fact that Floyd doesnt care about appearances at all shouldn’t really be a big deal, but Kyra would be OVER THE MOON about it.

“Ah, I don’t care about that sorta thing. If you were boring, I would’ve ditched you a long time ago, hahaha!” And now suddenly Kyra is swooning and fanning herself and getting weak in the knees and blushing and giggling and kicking her feet and twirling her hair and—💥💥💥

Kyra needs a best friend in a partner. Someone that makes her want to open up and be vulnerable, but also makes her loosen up and have fun. She needs someone that can support her and can keep up with her regardless of how chaotic and rambunctious she can get— and who better than the menace himself??

No one can keep up with Kyra. And no one can really keep up with Floyd, either (Well, besides Jade, that is.). It was perfect! Because turns out, they’re the only ones that can keep up with eachother.

While continuing to think on it, I began realizing that they were also similar in other ways! And they can definetly understand eachother because of it.

Two people who have never had anyone bother to even try and understand them, no one really trying to look underneath the surface. Thinking that because of that, they dont “need” anyone to. But when they find eachother?? AUGH, they realize it really does feel nice for someone to “get it”.

Floyd understands and encourages Kyra in a way I don’t think Jamil could, and so !!! Floyra became a thing!!! YIPPEEYIPPEYIPPEEEE !!!!

My perfect little weirdos, even if no one really gets them they understand eachother better than anyone else can, and thats all that really matters. Their similarities in personality and ideals that brought them together, and I’m really just a sucker for the whole soulmates thing 😭

While of course, there are definetly flaws— with Kyra’s secretive nature and both of them being somewhat afraid of opening up and being vulnerable, its also because of those flaws that they end up working together. Because for once, they found someone that can truly understand them, and they’d be damned to let them slip away.

Anyways !! Ya thats all , ty for reading my silly little yap sesh !! 💗💗

Tagging!: @screamintoad @taruruchi 👁️👁️ floyra food …

[qoldenskies]

i’ve circled around the idea of writing leo’s birthday (the one where donnie’s.. You Know) but i haven’t sat down and done it (yet). BUT it’s given me a terrible cc!mikey hc that i’m not sure is in character but i’m inflicting it on you anyway <3

so mikey has a corkboard of photos on his wall, mostly him with his brothers/april/splinter. when he gets cursed it starts to look off in a way he can’t place, like, uncomfortably off. eventually he realizes the problem and starts cutting donnie out of photos. :)

he’s embarrassed by how much it helps because it’s kind of a childish/cartoonishly rude thing to do but he reasons that it’s *his* room and his decorations shouldn’t make him feel bad when he sees them. also, it’s, like, artistic expression. so he’s entirely justified actually! anyway donnie can be cut pretty easily out of most of the group photos (smiles calmly) but the ones that can’t be saved get shoved into a drawer somewhere

and then he covers the new empty space with people he actually cares about and when the curse breaks he forgets about it for weeks because he has way worse things to feel guilty about until one day he looks at it too closely and is like. Hey. What The Fuck.

NO ACTUALLY THIS FITS INTO THE UNIVERSE REALLY WELL,,, like mikey's attention towards donnie really only extends to when it finds it fun to hurt him, when there's a practical joke to play (and honestly its probably a huge reason he was SO vicious in that one scene where he actually hit him. it was a very final and firm fuck off i dont want you around me, and donnie got the message and didnt go back to the kitchen even ONCE afterwards) but when it comes to his behavior in private i think coming up with an excuse like that to justify his own behavior would make complete sense

like. mikey pathologizing and saying something like that to himself because he's still resistant to the idea of being TOO mean and unnecessarily cruel, especially at first, and then in retrospect realize it was his way of enabling himself with this shitty "oh its just self-care he doesnt need to know ^-^" excuse ,,, little things like that just worsen how terrible he gets later on, because the more excuses he makes for himself, the more normal it gets for him to be cruel upfront.

and christ like the little ways they made donnie feel excluded coming back to haunt them like that. even if donnie never SAW IT it would cause this horror in mikey because he didn't even think about it. so much of the small shit they dont really have a REASON to dwell on. so much fucking happened in those three months and its traumatic for them too, their brains are on the big stuff. like the closet, the family meeting, the physical abuse, the starving him and screaming at him, things like that. its why they dont understand the weight of the gaslighting until it comes back to bite them; they understood it worked, but there was a small childish part of them that just kind of assumed donnie would already KNOW they were lying and he wouldnt completely lose trust in himself like that lolol

i think especially post-cw they're going to be thinking about this a lot, how much little shit they skimmed over now that all the big shit's immediately addressed. the tree remembers but the axe forgets and etc; donnie's memory is shaky, but the effects of it are visible if you know what you're looking for. they feel both the need to address and apologize for everything, even things donnie didn't know about, and the need to micromanage themselves out of fear of doing something like that again. (especially once they learn about the uhhh spreadsheet that dates back to before all of this happened, that's soon)

ALSO I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THE LEO'S BIRTHDAY THING OMG THAT'S SO EVIL ..... a pov from one of the cursed bros is just an inherently interesting thing to explore i think

[frankenfran]

PLEASE talk as much as you want about final fantasy. Since I already have 3 FF questions, I'll let you choose whatever you want to talk about most

1. I wanna hear what you don't like about XV and XVI (I only know the story of XVI and yeah it has. issues)

2. What do you think about the older 2D FFs?

3. I know there's an insane amount of spinoffs and side stories, so of them all, what do you think is a must-play for someone like me who wants to get more into the series? (I've only played most of tactics, and FF I Advance of all things)

oh goodness well, this probably won't be popular but since you asked... (under a read more because it's fucking long)

1.) as reductively as possible: too much of a focus on men. deeply misogynistic games. it feels like they're a response to the misogynistic backlash to ffxiii. yes ffxiii had plenty of problems but given the culture at the time (which obviously hasn't gotten much better) it kinda felt like a lot of people rejected it as soon as they saw a woman as the protag. the craziest part is she's basically just cloud post transition but mysteriously people think all those traits on a woman are irritating or cringe.

anyway, this is obviously just my own personal feeling but it feels like they went the opposite direction and decided there should be less women going forward. ffxiv is infamous for killing every important female character and ffxv is just a yaoi road trip with minimal female involvement. you'd certainly think there were no women in the game based on the fan art and, unsurprisingly, people loved that. i mean consider the reaction to ffx-2 vs. ffxv. they're both obviously very different games in a lot of ways but one of them is about boys going on an adventure together and the other is about girls doing the same. one of them is considered embarrassing and got tons of backlash from fans contemporarily for being too girly and the other was a huge hit with fans and loved even with its flaws. it's worth noting ffxv was also originally a ffxiii spinoff that became it's own thing so. that's also information.

ffxvi is even more egregious in some ways but ill admit a lot of those are mostly personal. it's fucking ugly and dull and i would not know it's a final fantasy game if it weren't for the ill fitting chocobos in some trailers. i know it's ironic for me to say that considering i praised ffix for looking unlike any other ff game but they went in the wrong direction. it's clearly inspired by prestige western fantasy slop like GoT and the witcher and unfortunately those are the exact things i do not want in fantasy. some people like that and that's fine but it's clearly not for me.

anyway, iirc the writers from ffxiv worked on this and from what ive seen it shows in the worst ways. these are the writers who couldn't introduce a woman without killing her off so already off to a bad start but. it's punching above its weight class. it's trying so hard to be a epic grizzly dark fantasy but it just falls so flat. they say fuck all the time in the same way that one dmc game everyone hated did. im sure there's some amount of nuance that gets lost in translation but the only woman in the amount of the game i saw was, quite literally, an evil screeching harpy manipulator. which is not like, something im against obviously as a lover of women but for that to be the only woman in the first like. 10+ hours of the game? come the fuck on. maybe it gets better i honestly don't know. and i don't think i ever will because what i saw of that game was so immensely disappointing that im not sure ill ever bother.

i have plenty more i could say about both games but ive said soooo much already and honestly i can't imagine the misogyny website would particularly enjoy even more of my "misandry" lmfao. in short:

2.) i really enjoy the older 2D final fantasies but ive only really played a chunk of ffvi and the original ff. some day ill definitely give them a go! i feel like the ff fan equivalent of a zoomer for loving almost everything from ffvi onwards and not having much to say about the older ones but. the biggest barrier for me is the same one i have with the older dragon quests. they're not particularly hard or anything but they expect you to grind. a whole lot. if i was a kid and my only game was ffiii id be on that grind but it's a bit harder as an adult who can like. just do anything else. i even like grinding and getting into that flow state but i haven't been as much in the mood for it these days, or if i have it's been for different games. ill definitely get around to them eventually though. young immortal mindset as ive said before. watching my gf try and play through them did sort of make me want to give it a spin even with her furping.

3.) honestly you're already off to a good start! tactics is well beloved for a reason and it's probably the most recommended spinoff. id also highly recommend tactics advance. it's not as like, dark and serious as tactics but the style and gameplay and story are all executed nearly flawlessly. it's a favourite of our beloved princess nettlebloom and that's reason enough! definitely finish tactics first though. hmm... if you play ffxii and also enjoyed tactics advance then give FFXII: revenant wings a try! it's a weird RTS type game but it's in the style of tactics advance and very cute. definitely not for everyone though.

it's really far from essential but if you can somehow manage to organise enough people for it i highly recommend giving crystal chronicles a try. it's really fun with other people and it's close to ffix stylistically so im a big fan. maybe try dissidia if you want a silly fighting game? kebs seemed to enjoy stranger of paradise quite a bit and it seems like mindless action game fun so maybe give that a look if it interests you. honestly the spin-offs cover such a wide range of genre and quality that it's almost hard to have cohesive opinions on them lol. but i hope that helps in any way!

thank you for asking though and sorry for the wall of text! i genuinely suck at being concise and getting my points across but hopefully you could decode some of this madness lol

[woobiedoovo]

ford and bill fighting over stan... droolingg

Sorry about not posting this when I said I would, it seems like whenever I promise to post something at a specific time I suddenly lose all motivation to write. Anyways, this is for these two Anon’s!! Here’s the some Ford and Bill fighting over Stan ! 💕💕

In this scenario It’s been about a year since weirdmaggedeon. Stan and Ford are back in Gravity Falls to spend to spend the summer with Dipper and Mabel, and for some spice let’s say these old men haven’t confessed their feelings to each other yet.

There was… moments, of course, that have been less brotherly and more sensual when they were on the boat together. Roaming eyes, curious hands, post-nightmare cuddles that boarded just a bit too touchy. But nothing concrete. Both of them too nervous to make the first step and potentially fracture their already fragile relationship.

And now they were in Oregon for another summer of adventures. Hopefully ones that would cause another apocalypse, but in Gravity Falls anything could happen.

Anything.

Even their arch-nemesis that they had definitely killed showing up on their doorstep with a giant axolotl.

“Apart of his therapy” the creature explained, “Is showing Bill that the people he hurt have moved on to happier, healthier lives without him there.”

It was weird for Stan to be housing the demon who tortured his brother, tormented his kids, and almost destroyed the world.

It was even weirder that the thing wouldn’t stop watching him. Stan thought the demon would focus on Ford. But instead the triangle seemed determined to talk to him. Or, if he was being more realistic, flirt with him.

“Heya Bruiser, is it just me or are your teeth not rotting out of your skull like usual?”

Or trying to flirt with him. In his weird, disgusting Bill way. Stan found it funny, in a weird twisted way, especially with how the demon was currently powerless.

No fire, deals, or flying, the pink amphibian had told them. So Bill walked around at his very unimpressive height of, if Stan was feeling generous, two feet tall. And Stan wasn’t feeling generous, so even if the yellow demon insisted he was closer to three feet, Stan chose to ignore the thing and go on with his day.

But the flirting continued. Escalated, even. Bill had moved on from morbid pickup lines to decaying flowers, poisoned chocolates, and once even gave Stan a rabbits heart.

That was a bad day. Lots of screaming and crying, mostly from Mabel, who they had to physically pull away from Bill after she threw a few punches. Stan had wanted to let her keep going. The boxing lessons had been paying off, but when he saw Ford’s panicked expression he decided that maybe his great-niece trying to fistfight a demon on a Saturday morning wasn’t the best idea.

Honestly, Stan was unsure if the demon was flirting with him or threatening him. Both didn’t sit right with him, but from the way Bill eyed Stan when he walked around without a shirt, or wolf-whistled at him the one and only time he bent forward in front of him, he had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that it was still flirting.

He probably would have preferred the death threats.

Ford had been by his side since the moment Bill had appeared at their door, trigger finger desperately itching to just shot the dammed thing. It was like Ford had a second sense of whenever Bill even looked in Stan’s direction. One minute Stan is going through some of the most awkward flirting in his life, and the next he’s face first in Ford’s red turtleneck, feeling the grumble of his voice as he told Bill to back off.

It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. Stan could protect himself. He’d done it his entire life, before and after he was kicked out. He protected himself from their Pa, bullies, and eventually even from the very demon himself.

He was always the protector. Not just for himself, but for Ford as well. Being on the other side of it was… nice.

“Awh Sixer, no need to be jealous that I’m moving on.” His brother spluttered, his hold on Stan tightening. “Jealous? I’m not jealous, Cipher.” Ford’s voice was incredulous and Stan didn’t even have to imagine what his face looked like because his twin pulled away from him, taking his face into his hands to stare at him.

“Are you alright Stanley? He didn’t do anything to you?” The twins ignored the scoff behind them, Stan only rolling his eyes as Ford continued to fret over him. “I’m fine, Ford.”

“Yeah, Sixer, he’s fine. We were having a pleasent conversation before you came around.” Bill’s squeaky voice cut in, the small demon standing behind the two, tapping his foot impatiently on the wooden floor.

If Stan wasn’t so caught up in the way Ford was looking at him, maybe he would have laughed at his Bill looked like a petulant child. “It didn’t seem like Stanley was enjoying it very much, Bill. I think it would be best you stopped with this little game of yours.”

Suddenly Ford was in front of him, and Stan had to hold back a groan at his brother’s posturing. “Ugh, Ford, it’s fine. It’s not like the thing can do anything to me anyways.”

“I think you’re just mad he likes my flirting, Sixer.” Stan’s words went ignored as Ford and Bill glared at each other. “Mad? Why would I be mad?” Ford’s voice suddenly had a nervous edge, and Bill seemed to laugh as he came to a realization.

“It’s not him you’re jealous of, it’s me!”

Now Stan was interested. He snuck a glance at Ford, his face taking on a deer in headlights look. His brither started to stumble over his words, his eyes darting over to Stan as he struggled to refute Bill’s words.

“You want to fuck your brother, don’t you Sixer! But you know he’s into me! That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in thousands of years!” The demon taunted, and Stan decided he was thoroughly done with the little shits big nonexistent mouth.

Grabbing onto the back of Bill’s shirt, Stan ignored the weak call of his name from Ford as he marched out of the room. “Oh, moving fast, Stanley? I knew you couldn’t resist my charm. Sooner or later you would’ve realized I’m the best thing that could ever happen to you! Maybe I’ll even be kind enough to let you be my little pet when I-“

Throwing the demon into the pantry, the locked the door, walking away from the muffled yells of Bill, demanding for him to come back and release him. Behind him was Ford, who froze when Stan’s eyes landed on him.

“Stanley, I can explain. What Bill said-“ Grabbing onto the collar of Ford’s turtleneck, he kissed his idiot of a genius brother.

Pulling back, he only said two words “Bedroom, now.”

[halitis]

I… need to know if you have more HalbarryOllie thoughts? Please and thank you!

HI OP. tysm for asking because i am actually Always filled with thoughts. they rotate in my mind like a microwave 24/7 :3

this is a mix of headcannons and observations, so i hope that's what you were looking for! sorry it's a billion long i got Invested...

hal and barry for some reason, love to carry each other. they will pick each other up just whenever, barry usually carrying hal in a bridal grasp or hal carrying barry either like a potato sack or creating s construct to carry him. ollie judges them heavily, what freaks. (the first and last time barry tries to carry ollie when it's not necessary, it ends with him taking a solid hit to the crotch. hal will not stop laughing.)

ollie and hal both have leftover habits and trauma from poverty. when one of them sees the other with negative food behaviour, or accidental hoarding they don't say anything because they know they behave the exact same way. another holdover they have, is the stubborn pride that you HAVE to do it yourself. a pipe bursts or something: cue hal and ollie covered in water, apartment flooded, water damage everywhere but Fuck if they aren't going to figure out how to do this! they are outraged when they realised barry called a plumber.

i don't think they will ever get married in anyway, gonna be honest. hal and his commitment issues go brrr and ollie i think just Doesn't like marriage (roy had to get this opinion from somewhere, see below). the only way i ever see them getting married, is because barry wants to (fucking midwesterner), but even then i don't think he actually would want it that badly. i think that paired with the fact that not all of 3 of them can be married, that they just dont bother. paper is not needed to make your love anymore real.

[continued beneath the read more]

ollie and barry at first, just get along for hal. like he is a child of divorce. i think they would start getting really close after a long mission. you know when you are just so bone tired you lose the will to fight? they are just lazing about, and someone says something that usually would start an argument and instead the other just laughs and it's history from there on. they still bicker and argue sure, but they both know it's playful.

another reason they might have to start getting along, is their kids! wally and roy are good friends and at the beginning, some of the only sidekicks. i think their initial dislike manifests in passive-agressive one upping each other. ollie buys the boys a full spread for dinner, barry takes them to europe to try authentic food. barry takes them out to a water park, ollie rents out a themepark for them. the boys probably encourage it, especially wally.

im not gonna start spewing roywally propaganda in this post, but just know that the parallels between them and ollie x barry have me in a deathgrip.

ollie is the Only cis person in this relationship. i hc barry as transmasc, and hal as either gnc or genderfluid. ollie's the diversity hire guys <3 (if you include dinah in this, she is also trans! its cannon dont @ me)

the first time there is ever a Proper Fight in the polycule, it's between hal and ollie. ollie's habit of calling people nazis and facists usually don't bother hal (he was in the army, he had to get over letting dumb insults bother him). but just at some point, he's having a Bad Day and he just loses it at ollie. logically he knows it's not targeted but calling the jewish guy a nazi just set him off. they are both too stubborn to break the silence after the fight, it takes barry dragging ollie like a misbehaving cat to hal's to apologise before they get over it. ollie is now very careful to censor himself like that around hal.

honestly if anyone wants me to expand on my thoughts on jewish hal, or transgender halbarryollie PLEASE ask. im a hairtrigger away at any given moment.

ollie and hal both LOVE boxing, they love going to matches and watching. at some point, they start trying to include barry and take him along to the fights. barry for the life of him Cannot enjoy this shit. somehow, at some point, they end up at a wwe match and they all become avid fans. date nights now include lazing on the couch with takeout and watching playbacks on tv.

barry runs so fucking hot, and ollie runs cold. leaving hal to fucking Despise sharing a bed with them. genuinely his worst nightmare. even the army was better than this. it is not uncommon to find hal on the floor asleep.

after hal's death, ollie doesn't cope with it very well. killing his bf fucks him up so greatly, he ends up really clinging to barry. barry also isn't handling well but he can't let himself fall apart, he needs to be there for ollie. they start living together basically full time, until one day barry's grief just builds up too much and he ends up saying something he regrets in the heat of an argument (probably something along the lines of blaming ollie for hal's death or he's only staying with ollie because of hal). ollie storms off and barry is just... Gutted. before they have time to reconcile, ollie dies. (if im getting my timelines wrong don't look at me, i will sob)

not a single one of these men have fashion taste. they all dress like the loser middle aged men they are. fucking fashion crimes against humanity! hal steals their clothes quite frequently, which is controversial considering he is the largest person out of the three of them and their shirts and stuff are definitely Too tight. (ollie and barry aren't complaining though, except for when they get their clothes back and they are so fucking stretched)

i love picturing them as cheerleaders. not like, in the actual getup, but just as them being the PROUDEST boyfriends. hal and barry bragging about how ollie is the best shot in the world (hes not but its fine :3), green arrow and lantern standing to the side on a mission and just watching flash adoringly because they know he doesn't need their help, ollie and barry smugly parading around hal like "yeah. this is my bf. hes so hot i know. he's so smart as well." none of them have any idea they are doing it though. they are gag worthy.

ollie's love language is gifts but not always monetary. more like making them food, taking them out places and stuff like that. its the thought and effort that goes into it, that's why does it. barry's is touch, this man LOVES hugs and draping himself over his bfs. hals is acts of service! he wants to help and just do whatever he can for them whenever possible. you could see that hal bases his selfworth off of how much he can do for others, which is so horrible and sad. so yknow. brainworms.

ollie's house accidentally becomes their usual meeting place, but only because he fucking HATES the zeta tubes. whenever he meets them anywhere, he will always whine about how they make him sick. barry does offer to pick him up, but it's a point of pride to him at this point, he can't just admit defeat to the zeta. barry and hal make a silent agreement to just meet him instead. (this was based off an actual comic panel, but i cannot for the Life of me remember which one).

none of them show up on time to dates. it actually becomes so incredibly common that when they miss them, no one takes offence anymore. cue one time where they all missed a date, and are sheepish around the others and keep trying to make it up to them. it takes 3 days before they realise that none of them were there.

and that's it for now! thanks for reading mwah maah

[allmylifemyseasons]

Goodnight and Go~ Choi Yeonjun

synopsis: Yeonjun hates parting at night or... peeks of y/n's and yeonjun's relationship underneath the night sky.

pairing: College student! Choi Yeonjun x afab! reader

song: Goodnight and Go - Imogen heap (lost the plot halfway through, but point is, they are DOWN BAD for each other, Yeonjun more, and they are sickly sweet which the song is too, so... a win is a win.)

warnings- none? not really a plot... just moments of the relationship... mostly fluff/comfort, CHEESINESS (SELF INDLUGING), yeonjun being head over heel for you, just sickly sweet im telling ya... mentions of sexual acts but none performed (not there yet sadly)

( AND PROBABLY BAD WRITING BUT WE FINISHED A STORY SO?????? I WIN), OH FORGOT TO SAY.... it's also unedited....

Word count: 4.8k (ha...)

A/N: Hello! this is my first work on here, and honestly its a bit of a mess, but I made a new years resolution that id start writing more and posting it, and I just spent a couple of hours writing non stop... Please give me constructive criticism, I need rejection therapy LMAO, no but really, I want to be good so bad...

Yeonjun rubs his hands together and blows his hot breath in between them, trying to defrost his frozen fingers, and it works but only for a bit. He watches that same air crystalize in front of him as he thinks of what else to say. You both stood by your door now, the front yard light was dim but shined brightly enough to see the blush across both of your faces. He was desperate for the night to continue, he wanted to hear you talk until the end of time, be around you until the sun came up, but he notices the shiver your body does everytime the wind blows. 

Yeonjun had seen you around before asking you on a date. It was one of those weird moments in cheesy rom coms, where you just wouldn't stop spawning everywhere he went. All throughout campus, you would appear, with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. You were always laughing, always smiling, always speaking with such enthusiasm in a conversation. When he finally put a voice to the smile, after sitting in the only chair left available in a class you shared, Yeonjun understood why those around you carried the same smile around, even after parting from you. Yeonjun had never felt as listened to as much as he did in the first conversation you had and the ones following it. He wondered just exactly how you did it, to make any person that spoke to you, the most important person in the world.You were addicting to be around, a source of comfort and laughter. When he finally got the courage to ask you out, a day before fall semester ended, he felt the clouds push back as you smiled softly, for the first time looking nervously everywhere else before saying yes, a twinkle shined in your eye, like a disney movie and he felt absolutely captivated from there on. 

“Um, anyways, thanks for dinner tonight,” You say looking directly up at him, your eyes shined with hope as if you were expecting something. You clear your throat before continuing, “and thanks for the jacket.” 

You begin to peel it off your shoulders: 

“Now, please put it on before your future cold gets worse,”

“Pfft, what cold? Ill be fine~”He smirks confidently, waving a dismissive hand as he bunches up his jacket to prove a point. 

“I can't wait to say I told you so.” you tease. 

“You wish, in fact I'm gonna be so fine, I'm hoping I can see you again? Maybe before the weekend ends? Friday? There's that new spiderman movie… ” Anything. He thinks to himself. He doesn't worry about looking too desperate, it truly doesn't bother him to show you that he wants you, bad, because he really does. 

“Hmm… okay let's make a deal. If you're feeling fine by this Friday, you get to pick the movie. If youre sick, I pick it…” A win-win. He smirks, “...after you get better…” His smile drops. 

“Ugh..” He rolls his eyes playfully before sticking his hand out, “...deal.” He makes a mental note to take vitamins before heading to bed. 

You shake his hand as a giggle falls from your lips. 

You're surrounded by an awkward silence again, you're no longer looking at him but literally anywhere else. He knows what you're waiting for, and honestly he wants it too. Your lips, that were tinted and glossed, had been distracting him all night, but he was nervous. Yeonjun had always been someone who moved fast, always quick to jump the rope. In the past, he would have walked right on in on the first date and would've stayed the night, and the relationships themselves would move quickly to the point that things would get messy and things were not fully thought through. He didn't want to do that with you, he didn't want to ruin this. But was a kiss considered slow? Fast? He didn't have enough time to mull it over. 

“Um, so yeah let me know…” You chuckle awkwardly, reaching back for the handle of the door. There's still hope in your eyes until he speaks up. 

“I will, thanks for coming out with me tonight, y/n” Yeonjun steps backwards, feeling regret rush through his body. He thinks it might overcome him before he catches a genuine smile on your face, “Goodnight, Jun.” 

“Goodnight.” He watches you walk in before walking back to his car, where he dwells on the sweet image of your smile. 

Your lips. God, your lips.

 He should've done it, what's fast about a kiss? The look you gave him replays in his mind, flutters breaking out in his stomach over and over again each time. The regret is making him move ten times slower and distracts him well enough that he doesn't notice the moving figure circling around his car to the driver's side window. 

The knock makes him jump. He rolls his window down, looking awfully confused because here you were, kneeling down to his level, with a nervous look. 

“Y/N? Are you okay? Did you forget something?” 

You stare at him for a bit, “Um, yeah, j-just this…” You lean forward hesitant before landing a quick peck on his lips. It happened so fast Yeonjun barely had time to feel your lips pressed on his, but he felt them, they were on there. He notices the nervous look as you wait patiently for his reaction and it makes him break into a smile. Who knew being on the same page felt so good? 

He reaches your face with both of his hands to bring you back to him, this time keeping your lips on his for longer than a peck, and they feel much softer than they looked, and he was able to taste the leftover sweetness of the slice of cake you shared, he can't believe he said goodnight before doing this. He can't believe he lived a whole life before your lips.

The wind picks up and he feels you shiver once again, and he remembers that its winter and you ran out in your dress and a thin cardigan. He lets go, not before pecking your lips once more, and smiles up at you, the blush on your cheeks were his doing and he's feeling really good about that. 

“Okay, for real now, goodnight.” You giggle before tightening your cardigan and running back inside. 

He watches you scurry in, and he drives off, the faint feeling of your lips are as present as the permanent smile on his lips that night. 

——- 

“Are you sure there’s nothing more I can help you with, Mrs. L/N?” Yeonjun stands by the open door, leaning against the wall, using it as support as he fits his foot in his shoe. The table was cleared and the dishes were washed, yet he felt like he could stay longer if needed. 

Yeonjun loved your family home. Everything reminded him of you, from the smell to the style to every single picture on the wall having either a call back to stories he remembers you telling him or a younger version of you in them. It made it feel like you, and it was hard to leave every time. 

“You've done more than enough, sweetie. Thank you.” Your mother replies leaning to give him a tight hug and an affectionate squeeze on the cheek before heading to the living room. 

“Y/N, dont forget to lock the door once youre back inside.” 

“Got it!” You respond back, closing the door behind you as you both step out to the refreshing breeze of a summer night. The buzzing of the insects filled the silence as Yeonjun turned back to you. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” you tease, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Oo, someone jealous~” 

“Am not!” 

“Its okay, baby. I won't steal your mom.” He ruffles the top of your head before leaning into your embrace. 

“You wouldn't succeed anyways~” It came out muffled that he could barely understand it, making him chuckle lightly. 

He knew he had to leave soon, you both had class in the morning. Yet in your warmth, it made it so hard to care about anything other than the feeling of your head in his chest. 

“Dont go.” You say softly. Once again, it's like you were in his head.

“Mmm, We have class tomorrow though, and you have that exam, i'm only gonna distract you.” He hated to be the responsible one in these circumstances but you had been nervous about this class and he knew better than to fall for the temptation of staying and not allowing you to study. 

“Ugh.. Please dont remind me.” You rub your face on his chest before stepping back and he looks at you with an amused face. 

“Are you picking me up tomorrow?” 

“Duh.” 

“Okay. Can we go to that one cafe with the fluffy cheesecakes after?” 

He nods before pulling on your fingers, leaning in for a kiss. 

“Goodnight, Baby~” He says in between kisses.

“Night, Junie~” You turn to go, your hand being the last thing lingering on him, before you feel back. He grabs your face gently bringing you in for a second kiss. 

“Goodnight, Baby~” He says again, a small smile playing on his lips as he pecks you twice. 

This brings a small laugh out of you. 

“Goodnight, Junie~” You drag out before turning around again, only to again feel a pull back, this time his hands slip and pull your long sleeve instead. 

“Yeonjun!” You laugh out, his lips once again attaching themselves to you. 

“Okay, okay, forreal goodnight” He laughs too, his hands closing in behind your head, bringing you in for what should have been the final kiss of the night. He feels your smiles in the kiss fade as he keeps you in the kiss for a bit, he can feel the soft sigh you let out and he feels dizzy from it. Yeonjun breaks the kiss, landing pecks before leaning back slightly, your head still in his hands. The warmth spreads across his face, down to his chest and he can't tell if the buzzing is coming from the insects anymore or from his heart.  What he can tell, is that you're feeling it too as he watches how your half lidded eyes continue to stare at him, so full of adoration and love he almost feels shy by them. 

“I love you” He whispers, watching you carefully for any sign of a reaction. He thinks he might have read the room wrong, until he watches your eyes widen and sparkle cartoonishly, a smile breaking wide on your face. 

“I love you too.” He takes a moment to process your response before leaning down to touch foreheads and Yeonjun feels an explosion of emotions in him, like fireworks being set off all over his body. 

“Good.” He says trying to play it off as not a big deal. But he can't play off the crack in his voice. You giggle. 

“Shut up,” You push him gently and Yeonjun can't help but just stare at you, “Goodnight, Baby. I love you~” He loves the enjoyment in your eyes as you say it.

“I love you too. Good night~” And just like the night of your first date, and almost every week since it happened 6 months ago, he watches you walk towards the door. 

“Okay! Goodnight! Go already!” You laugh from the door. “Text me when you're home!”

———

Yeonjun watches you from the corner of his eye at the way you run a hand through your hair, standing across from him, your arms crossed. Your parents weren't home, and they wouldn't be for the whole weekend, something that was often celebrated between the two of you, spent in each other’s arms, in each other's beds, but right now Yeonjun sat slumped on the couch. He spent the past five minutes in silence trying to figure out how to direct the conversation, but he felt like you were both losing patience with each other, and he hated the feeling. 

“Y/N. Can you please just sit with me?” 

He watches you stand there for a moment before walking towards him. Arguments weren’t common enough to know how to have a healthy one. Words and accusations have been thrown, and Yeonjun wants to put an end to it before it gets worse. 

It started with a light stray, just a small comment from you that caught him off guard. 

“You can go, I don't mind staying home.” you lean facing the island as you watch the water of the sink hit the drain, steam rising up makes you turn the faucet handle the other direction before Yeonjun puts his hands in boiling water. 

“What? No, come on, it'll be fun.” he rubs your back as he stacks the dishes in the sink. 

“Right, because being stuck in a corner is fun.” From the look on your face, the soft chuckle that escapes your lips, he knew you didn't mean anything provoking about it, but he couldn't help but believe there was deeper meaning behind it. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” He no longer focused on the dishes. 

“Huh? Nothing? I just mean like sometimes your friends' parties aren't fun. ” 

“But we already said we’d go? I don't want to back out now.” 

“Then go, baby. We don't both have to be there. I'm sure they won't even notice I'm not there.” 

“Of course they'll notice! Chaewon and Soob are gonna be so bummed you're not there. I'm gonna be bummed you're not there” 

“Jun, I really don't want to spend the one weekend having the house to myself, at someone else's house. I'm tired, I'm on my period and the last thing I want to do is drink and have the bass booming in my ears. If you really wanna go, it's fine. You should go.” You were getting frustrated, he could tell but the feeling was throwing him out on a loop. 

Yeonjun felt like something was off. Have you always felt this way about the parties you’d go to? Had it had something to do with his friends? With him? 

“Come on, I always go to your parties, come to mine.” It hadn't occurred to him how pushy he sounded, but the idea of leaving you home alone didn't sit right with him. 

“No one asks you to go though.” 

“You don't have to ask me, I do things without needing to be begged.” it hits him. He's saying the wrong things, but it's too late, because you're giving him a look of total shock. 

“You don't have to beg me. I don't want to go. And even more so now that I'm being forced out of guilt.” 

“I didn't mean it like that.” 

“It doesn't matter what you meant. It's how it came out.” 

The argument only escalated from there. What started out as a simple rejection evolved to a yelling match and ended with Yeonjun slamming the door on his way out. No ‘goodnight’, no goodnight kiss, just the fall wind making it hard to walk out into the night. 

Yeonjun thinks he might have been overdoing things, overestimating the meaning behind your words, but it was hard to be sure, when you always hid behind them. Yeonjun couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to it. And now leaving you alone in an empty house sent a wave of regret and sadness throughout his bones. Yeonjun hated saying goodnight to you, hated  that he had to settle on kissing you, settle on the faint ghosting feeling of your lips on his before he went to bed, but preferred it over this feeling anyday and now he royally fucked it up for the night and had to suffer through it. 

He wouldn't be able to even enjoy the party with the thought of you angry at him. He wouldn't be able to focus on the conversations nor enjoy the drinks with the memory of your furrowed eyebrows playing in a loop. 

He only made it two blocks away before he turned back, and headed back to you. He found you in the kitchen with teary eyes and soapy foam on your hands. The water running filled the dead air around you.

When Yeonjun finally makes his presence known, you're quick to look back down.

The silence that surrounds you now, as he gets you to sit beside him, has him questioning how he can fix this. 

His hand is hesitant in reaching for yours, and you move it closer to him to reassure him that it was okay to grab it. Thank god. He thought. 

“I'm sorry for everything I've said,” He rubs your palm looking at you focus on your hand, “I shouldn't be forcing you to do anything you don't want to do, it's not a big deal if you miss a couple of my friends parties, we don't have to go to every single one, i'm sorry i wasn't thinking about you. I like having you there and being around me and when you hangout with my friends I feel good, like all my favorite people are in one room. I think that just made me become a little selfish.” He joins you in watching how his thumb presses into your skin. You nod. 

Silence overcomes the both of you again, before you break it next. 

“I'm sorry too. I don't mean to be mean, I think my words just come out that way before I can think them through and I really need to work on that. You're not selfish for wanting that, but sometimes I just get tired of going out all the time.” He feels you holding back again, not being able to voice what was bothering you.

“Is it the ‘going out’ that's really bothering you? Or might it be something else?” It dawns on him that he can just ask. The tension had been disappearing by the minute, you pulled your hand away from him and hid your face. 

“I dont want to sound clingy…” 

“Hey, you won't. I swear.” 

You rub your hand over your face. Yeonjun hopes that the hand he places on your back soothes you at least a bit. 

“Sometimes you just feel really dismissive at parties. Like yeah we showed up together and you've introduced me to your friends and they know me and they're so nice, but in the first 10 minutes, you're like gone. I just start to feel abandoned. You don't have to babysit me, it's not what I'm saying you know? It's just like I feel left out, and maybe it's on me, maybe I just have to put myself out there and put in the effort to be friends with your friends, but youre kinda like my way in ya know? I was lucky that Soobin and Chaewon are in some of my classes for the semester, and we got closer that way. But once they leave, it's so hard to get close to you or keep up with you.  I'm sorry if this sounds annoying, I know its sou-” 

Yeonjun was dumbfounded. How could he have made you feel that way and never noticed? 

Right, because being stuck in a corner is fun. How stupid could he have possibly been. 

He felt his throat closing in. He cuts off your apologetic rant. 

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so sorry I never noticed I would do that, I can't believe I didn't. You're right. I'm so sorry, y/n. Please forgive me. I hadn't realized that's what you meant. I won't be doing that ever again. I swear. Believe me.” he doesn't know what else to do other than spur out apologies. 

“Its okay. Really. I guess I know you get so caught up in having fun..” 

“Stop. Please don't justify it. I love you. I'm so sorry.” he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. 

“It's okay, thank you for listening. I love you too~” You chuckle a bit, your eyes no longer teary as they are replaced by a look of amusement. 

“We're pretty good at this argument and resolution thing, no?” You say after another small moment of silence. Yeonjun laughs. The tension is gone, chests are feeling lighter and the air is no longer still around you as Yeonjun wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back to rest on the cushions. He's already thinking of all the ways he can make up for his mistake.

“Definitely not, but we got time to work on it.” He kisses your head. 

“It's a good start, atleast~” You laugh, leaning into his arms. 

The heater turns on, and the position you're both in feels so comfortable neither of you want to move. Especially Yeonjun as he catches a glance at the clock, 11:40pm.

“So… Do I have to say ‘goodnight’ tonight?” In his head, he knows the answer. Yet, he still asks, wanting to feel reassured, feeling an invisible new boundary he wants only you to break. 

“Dont be dumb.” You respond snuggling further into him and the couch. He can tell from the way you respond, that you're falling asleep, and with that thought his own eyes begin to droop. 

“Oh, jun?” Barely above a whisper that Yeonjun barely catches it. 

“Yeah?” With his eyes close and heavy he doesn't notice your finger raising to his forehead level before giving it a stinging flick.

“Ouch!” 

“Never walk out like that again.” 

—--

“Please tell me that was the last of the boxes.” You force out in a big puff of air. Summer had just started, yet the heat felt marinated into the spring and only got worse. 

Yeonjun nods as he climbs the last two steps of the stairs. Curse this elevator-less building.

Yeonjun had recently moved out of the dorms into a college-assigned apartment complex. He saved money from his multiple jobs, and pulled out the biggest loan in mankind just to gain what he called the biggest privilege in all of college history: Privacy. 

Soobin and Beomgyu had shed some fake tears before vowing to visit everyday, something Yeonjun did not laugh at. You, on the other hand, couldn't keep your laugh in as you watched the frown on Yeonjun’s face grow deeper as the boys pretended to console what they thought was a sad and lonely man. 

“At least you guys can finally do it in peace.” Beomgyu announces as he drops the box by the corner of the empty room. He swipes the sweat off his forehead, quirking his eyebrow, earning a smack at the back of the head from Yeonjun. 

“Idiot.” Soobin says, fanning himself with a random piece of flimsy paper. 

“He's not wrong though…” Yeonjun whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. You smack his arm, your cheeks turning red. 

After the boys helped move the mattress in, they left, not before complaining about getting kicked out so soon. Yeonjun just wanted to spend time with you, alone, in what is now the space of his own home. 

“I feel used.” Beomgyu wiped a fake tear, “thrown away, even. Y/N treat him well, he no longer needs us.” 

“This is so sad,” You say, patting his head, looking at Yeonjun.

“If I give you 30 bucks for dinner, will you both leave us alone?” 

“Deal.” 

Once they were gone, you both moved the mattress towards the center of the living area, the carpet making you both struggle and groan. Yeonjun lands face flat on the queen mattress, heaving. 

“Ill order the pizza, can you get my laptop? I brought some drinks and snacks from home so we don't have to buy those.” 

Yeonjun watches as you rummage through the bag filled with home goods. You had brought whatever you thought would be useful to him; soap, shampoo, towels, some dishes, canned foods, homemade dishes that were able to be frozen, anything really that could save him time and money. Yeonjun’s heart almost exploded at the sight of you carrying the pink duffle bag, smiling so wide as you excitedly showed him what you were able to snatch.

 He could tell the idea of a new apartment excited you too. Earlier in the year, he had imagined himself asking you to move in with him, to maybe take that chance. He had no reason not to. You had been together for a while now, and things were getting serious with each passing day. He couldn't imagine seeing the relationship ending…ever. He had been so serious about you since day one and he could tell you saw him as the sure thing too, and when the opportunity came up, of renting his own space, it was waking up to you that was the first thought in his head. But… he was nervous. He had heard from friends that some relationships don't last the ‘living together’ stage. Those arguments about different ways of living can become bigger ones, ones that question if the pairing ever made sense. It scared him, what if he was too messy? What if you didn't like the way he had late night snacks at night, or the fact that he would stay at the dance studio for long periods of time? Most of these things you knew already, but you didn't have to deal with it really at your own house. He questioned if the fear of losing you was bigger than the want of spending every waking moment he could with you, he knew the answer but was just scared to make the realization. 

“Pizza is ordered!” You plop next to Yeonjun, now on his back, on the mattress, “which one?” you hold up two drinks for him to pick, he takes one from your hand and places it nearby before nudging at your hips to lift. He places you on his stomach, your legs straddling his sides. 

“You don't have curtains yet.” You whispered, red tint spreading from your face down to your neck. 

He laughs, “What are you thinking in that head of yours? I just wanted to be near you.” 

“Whatever! I was just reminding you!” You squeak, covering your face with your hands. He laughs again, rubbing his hands up and down from your thighs to your waist, thinking about it again. It could be like this everyday, not having to worry about roommates or parents barging in, no moments of awkwardness, no disruptions, just the look in your eyes as you stare at him in the comfortable silence that settles between the two of you.

“What do you think about a coffee table? I know you said your furnishing budget was short and I was at the thrift store the other day and they had this really nice antique…” 

If you do say yes, what would it mean? Was it too soon for him to think about the next year with you? The next five? Ten? He can imagine it all. He wanted it all. 

“Will you move in with me?” He says, catching you off guard. 

“Huh?” 

“...Moving in… would you move in with, um, with me? You don't have to, it was just like a thought-” 

“You want to live with me?” Your eyes, that were practically popped out in shock as you looked down at him, softened. 

“I want to do everything with you.” Yeonjun knows your face mirrors his in redness. 

Your eyes water, and you try to stop yourself from smiling. “You're so cheesy…”

“I would love to.” You whisper. you're now leaning in closer, and Yeonjun, with a heart so heavy and ready to spill, feels impatient that he must meet you halfway, folding his elbows behind him to lean on. He connects your lips immediately, and his heart sighs and yours must too the way he feels you relax above him, bringing your hands to his hair, your nails raking through his scalp. He would never say this to you, in fear of maybe scaring you off, but he saw your future in this specific kiss, where you both experience moments of success, of happiness, of sadness and tragedy, but you were experiencing it together, and he couldn't imagine it with anybody else. 

That night as the movie played, with no actual audience, Yeonjun felt relieved that his parting days were over. He wouldn't have to say goodnight to you, wouldn't have to detach himself from your lips, your arms, leaving him cold and wanting more. You could be the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he would see at night, and to him, that was all he could ever really want.

A/N: You made it! Thank you so much for giving it a chance! Its not my strongest but she my first finished baby in a long time... Please tell me your thoughts!! tell me you hate it, tell me you love it, anything im open to suggestions, tips, im a crier tho fair warning, but I won't tell you I cried (A win for you!)

[inubaki]

The Exchange (morning routine)

Part 7 (Don’t read these. They’re all bad) Adam’s pecs were beginning to give to the pull of gravity. They filled the demon’s palms by the handfuls in the dragging days following the first stirring beneath his furs. Since then, he had fought to cover the vanishing muscles and widening frame contrasted to the figure he was most accustomed to. Appalled by the accumulating softness bordering the edges to something distinctly less him. What he recognized from Eve’s pregnancy held nothing in comparison to himself.

His eyes reeked over him with increasing hunger. Far extending even the nightmares that toiled his memory; from which Lucifer had first reaped his spoils. Replacing the lion that tracked his steps before sinking in its fangs and claw to never let go again.

Still, Eve slept in her halo of greenery, undisturbed and untouched by the passing time. Successfully anchoring Adam’s feet to her orbit while Cain and Abel flocked to him with an increasing obsession. Adopting an eager attitude and a broader scope of responsibility, all in which to aid the wellness of their would be sibling. Unknowingly featuring Adam in his isolated cognitive displacement in the term of Mother.

Lucifer was vindictive in his delight to Adam’s increasing struggles. Taking advantage of Adam’s exhaustion to pollute his space and covet any slip of skin available to him. Cain and Abel’s presence doing little to stifle the angel’s territorial urges that bloomed across Adam’s skin with visual scarring.

“Father. You don’t have to do that” Abel eagerly inserted himself in line to Adam’s swing. The scent of sheep clung to the boy unpleasantly and the lack of staff gave away how hurriedly rushed it had been shoved into Cain’s hands. Cain whom had obviously tracked the herd down to whine when Adam continued to ignore him.

“Piss off, squirt” Adam didn’t have the energy to snap nor stop the swing of the repetitive motion of the hoe. As the moment he lost rhythm would be the second exhaustion robbed him of the rest of his day.

“Father, really…”

“Boy. There are a thousand and one things needed to be done today. Cain and you whining at me, isn’t one of them”. The hoe’s mounted stone chipped off Adam’s mental course, disturbing his motion enough to stagger the limpness in his arms. Like a shroud, the frustration and rage sipped the last of his stubbornness and he staggered. Something firmer and stronger than Abel, caught him by the waist faster than the boy could move.

“Father!!”

The true barer of that label molded to Adam’s side, supporting him upright before Abel could trip over himself to reach for him. Blackness teased the corner of his vision and it took more than it should to force his eyes to Abel’s. The genuine worry for one so young ate back at Adam’s initial retort. Neither Abel nor Cain even came to his waist and the ware about them from work stirred something darkly in his gut with guilt. The banishment should have never been their sins to bare.

“Don’t you threat about me…” he muttered. Ignoring the warmth at his side and the sipping of hands through his coverings. The boys had never seen him anyway.

Like a peace offering, Adam held out the hoe for the boy to take. The tool was nearly as big as the boy but Abel retrieved it proudly dispute the obvious weight. All Adam could do was sigh, stewing in his own emasculated pride while leaning more of his weight against the demon. His day was officially over.

“…either you or your brother… finish the drain line. Before the rain comes and drowns the crops…”.

“Y-yes, father!”

“How both innovative and pointless!”

Adam ignored Lucifer, moving with as much dignity as he was allowed. At least from the children, but the figure beside him, never.

“Honestly, Adam. Eve was never so stubborn as you. Tell ya want! I’ll make it a freebie from the goodness of my heart-“

“Goodness is a strong word for you…”

“Hush now! But what about it? Let me tend to the crops! It wouldn’t be the first time! In fact it was one of the first things that—“

“Eve murdered me for—“

“Wished for! And it saved you didn’t it? I take care of you…”

Adam glanced over wards the direction of the pit. Seeing barely the barren edges of the site from camp. The menace beside him nipped at his shoulder in retaliation. It was the only warning he had before Adam found himself on his back. Cocooned in the covering of the tent as the light bled away beneath Lucifer’s hovering shroud. Dispute the time of day, all light exempt for those eyes were snuffed out to the sound of familiar feathers.

“Tell me I take good care of you…”

Adam flinched as his back began to burn. His screams were shallowed as those eyes came to hover a mere inch away. A blink of movement and Adam could freeze. It wasn’t hands binding him down.

“Tell me I make your dreams come true.”

The first season of Eve’s ‘practice’ had brought upon them a harvest unlike anything Adam had witnessed since Eden. Before he realized the full extent of the source, he had awaken overjoyed to experience such a bounty again. For Eve and the babies to sleep soundly on full bellies and the bane of Earth’s never ending drought.

Till he tasted it.

Tasteless. Off. And the color…. To double take everything lead to more disturbing differences.

From Lucifer’s hands once beguiled them with dreams laid manifest. Yet now his reach laid only spoils of corroded manifestations, twisted in the finesse of grandeur.

“Anything for you, Adam. Anything within my power….”

Adam rather kiss him then reply. As he would again and again and again——-

———

Lucifer is unable to create as he once had. But as he is all the humans have, he can believe a little longer…

———

pervs:

I’ll be on a long…. Plane ride tomorrow. I already feel the dread.

[jedi-kat-18]

what would happen if newt got the ankle monitor off?

He'd bolt out the door as fast as possible, high on the thrill of victory, visions of apocalyptic destruction dancing through his head, then run right into Hermann coming back from the grocery store. When they both fall on their butts, Hermann quickly notices that the ankle monitor is missing. Then he has to wrangle it back on to Newt, which is kind of like trying to put a collar on a very angry cat, if that cat was the size of a full grown man and was yelling about how much he hates you.

[astrolotte]

Genuinely intrigued by the potential of Peri and Irep's dynamic but only in a platonic way so I end up not vibing with the fandom's portrayal of it 😔😔😔

(No but listen LISTEN they were kinda-almost-friends when we last saw them in FOP, yeah? Now they're enemies, with both actively fighting each other, and Irep going so far as to try and kill Peri's parents. What happened? When? What influenced it? Did they ever become friends, or did it nosedive the moment the cameras turned off? What about Sammy? How do Irep's parents factor into this? Could it ever be fixed? There's just so much we haven't seen, and romance just feels like too easy a solution to me. Let their friendship be easy to break, fragile. Let them have to work to keep the connection. Fairies and Anti-Fairies are literally made to be opposites, so what happens when two genuinely and truly become friends?)

((and yeah I guess a lot of this could factor into a romantic angle but ALAS the fandom seems to be leaning heavily into the funny toxic yaoi angle 😔 I don't mind it! By all means, please have your very harmless fun! But it ain't my jam :P Perhaps I'll have to write a oneshot myself...))

(((see tags for more rambles i guess. whoops a bitch spoke too much in there as he always does)))

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[the-vibing-ghoul]

some people will be all about mental health awareness and leftist ideals of at least tolerating the mentally ill who show ''ugly'' symptoms until it's someone they know and ''care'' about having a bad day and acting like it in a way they don't find appealing

[sysig]

What if Peepers got left behind with the main duo tho (Patreon)

[good-beanswrites]

Hello!! If you're still taking requests for that drabble game, might I request either Strength with Kotoko + Mikoto or Weak with Amane + Futa? It's fine if you aren't doing it anymore, of course

I've been in this fanbase since trial one and out of all the things I've read, your writing is probably amongst my favorite! (Even if I haven't finished going through it all yet...) I hope you have a splendid day! <3

!!!!! You are so kind waaahh this completely made my day, thank you ;---; I'm so glad you're enjoying omg ✨And thanks for these, they were really cool and fitting combos!! I tried to do a dual-perspective of Kotoko and Mikoto's pre-T2 fight, and I posted the one for Weak below.

Strength can manifest in a variety of ways, not just physically. Kotoko had a strong determination, for example. Mikoto had a powerful way with people. She showed solid self control and willpower. He held to strict deadlines and routines. She maintained a sharp intelligence. He upheld an unshakeable resolve.

Also, they were both ridiculously physically strong.

The pair came to this realization around the same time. They’d gotten a taste of the others’ power when clashing in the interrogation room, but it had begun suddenly and ended just as quickly. This time was different. They stood in the center of the panopticon, with the echoing space to themselves. As Kotoko swung a punch toward Mikoto, and he caught her against his forearms, they had a moment to gauge the other’s muscle. 

Kotoko stared into his eyes, which had a different sort of awareness to them now. He’s more coordinated, she thought, he must not be the same one I faced before. He’s leaning on the strength in his arms -- he’s not using his legs to their fullest potential. It doesn’t matter, given the raw force of his blows. Has he trained for fights, or just built his muscles in general? 

Mikoto stared into her eyes, returning her fiery gaze. Fuck, this lady’s strong.

She wound up again. He retaliated quickly. She shoved his back into the guard’s tower. He sidestepped her next attack. 

He didn’t really care why his fellow prisoner had come charging at him swinging, but she made sure he knew.

“The warden may not be able to administer punishments,” she said in between timed breaths, “so they entrusted me with that responsibility. This is justice, for the lives you’ve taken. You won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

He broke into harsh laughter. “You’re one crazy motherfucker! You’re the only person hurting anyone.” He tried to grab her, but she slipped from his arms. His eyes narrowed, laughter dying away with unsettling speed. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you hurt me.”

Kotoko was struck by the way he said it. Her voice had shaken with the very same determination when putting herself between an innocent citizen and some creep. It was how she felt now, trying to keep his violent hands away from the other prisoners. There were children here, weak and scared. Es themself was just a child, and had already suffered his violence. She refused to let this villain cause any more pain. “I’m doing what needs to be done. You’re nothing but a murderous monster.” She swung her fist.

Mikoto caught her by the wrist, forcing her to look at the blood caked in her hand. He didn’t know whose it was, but it wasn't either of theirs. “You’re the fucking monster!” He shoved her backwards. “And I’m gonna kill you for it…!”

He didn’t know how she could think she was the hero in this whole situation. He was the one protecting someone else. 

Neither held back. Mikoto wheezed as her boots connected. Kotoko cringed as Mikoto landed a solid hit on her face. There was some shouting from the hallway. Their resolves hardened. Mikoto wasn’t going to let anyone else threaten him. Kotoko wasn’t going to let him threaten anyone else. They were strong, they reminded themselves. They had to end this now.

The two charged at one another. A moment before they were set to collide, they both cried out in pain. Blinding white light flooded the dark panopticon. They clutched their eyes, stumbling away from one another. A figure shoved through, planting himself between them.

“Stop this, both of you!” It was Kazui.

“Get outta my way,” Mikoto growled.

“This is not your concern,” Kotoko said, blinking in the light. 

The spotlight in the guard’s tower had been switched on, pointed directly at them. Kazui remained in place. “That’s enough. Look at yourselves, for god’s sake!”

Under the harsh light, they now saw the sort of state they were in. Mikoto’s uniform had torn in new places, blood seeping through. He could taste some in his mouth, too. Kotoko’s face was cut. Her leg ached. They stood covered in bruises, panting. 

“Go back to your cells,” Kazui commanded. “We’ll sort this out in the morning.”

Kotoko squared her shoulders. “There’s nothing to sort out. He’s a murderer. I won’t lose to him.”

“This bitch tried to kill me. I’m not letting her get away with it.”

“I don’t care.” Kazui said simply. “Call it a draw. You’ll both tear yourselves apart if you keep going.”

They continued staring at one another as if their gaze alone could take them to the ground, but neither moved to fight. 

Mikoto felt a pang of guilt. Lost in adrenaline, he didn’t realize how banged up he was. He thought of how much pain he’d experience in the upcoming days. The whole point was to save himself from harm. 

Kotoko cursed Kazui for interrupting her. As one of the forgiven, he was supposed to be on her side. Even if he wasn’t honorable enough to see her as an ally, she’d have to be the bigger person. She wouldn’t threaten him. 

Neither was happy about conceding, but couldn't think of a better option given their end goals.

Kazui remained between them as they stalked off to their respective cells.

“A temporary draw,” Kotoko muttered to Mikoto. She flashed a grin that felt more like an animal baring its teeth.

He returned the smile. “You won't be so lucky next time.”

[pastelaspirations]

It is time. Granted, I am super far behind on quests, I'm still on the Sumeru archon quests. But our fabulous water archon has finally taken center stage and as I am on quest to get every archon, I must now spend my gems on her. I would have had more to spend if I didn't cave and get Wrio, but I had to, okay, I don't even know who he is yet, but he looked super cool-

ANYWAY. I got her. :D Don't ask how many gems it took, it's f i n e. The thing that matters is she was the first five star that I got. >:) Did I win 50/50?? I don't know, I didn't count-

Now, to add her to me team of gods. I'm sorry, Ei. You've been dethroned for the unforeseeable future. YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE A SPOT IN GOD TIER, OKAY, IT'S JUST. I can only have four at a time. You've got to understand. ;_;