#i hope they turn this around next episode

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

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It’s quiet in the house. 

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws. 

You’re the flawed one. 

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind. 

Something is off. Something is wrong. 

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.” 

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom. 

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare. 

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore. 

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light. 

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move. 

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep. 

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance. 

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about. 

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie. 

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie. 

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long. 

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on. 

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years. 

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art. 

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze. 

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.” 

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants. 

“You’re alright.” 

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart. 

“...sleepwalking I think...” 

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth. 

“Almost hit her head...” 

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.” 

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot. 

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.” 

“Is this something we need to worry about now?” 

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?” 

She’s talking to you now. 

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head. 

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least. 

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?” 

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes. 

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?” 

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.” 

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says. 

You can’t help but wince at his words. 

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“I think it might be good to talk about it.” 

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.” 

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.” 

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly. 

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look. 

You choose to ignore it. 

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening. 

Can you be brave enough to share? 

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...” 

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that. 

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.” 

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed. 

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him. 

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.” 

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper. 

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours. 

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories. 

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is. 

How...disarming his face is. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.” 

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you. 

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach. 

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm. 

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.” 

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.” 

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.” 

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day. 

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone. 

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him. 

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.” 

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot. 

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage. 

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table. 

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.” 

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?” 

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.” 

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out. 

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says. 

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside. 

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.” 

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.” 

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug. 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.” 

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table. 

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow. 

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older. 

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now. 

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now. 

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food. 

“You doing alright?” 

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.” 

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes. 

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you. 

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.” 

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.” 

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended. 

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.” 

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles. 

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.” 

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.” 

Next Halloween. 

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here? 

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps. 

Not from him. 

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan. 

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you. 

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.” 

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze. 

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head. 

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now. 

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you. 

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.” 

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.” 

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.” 

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn’t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.” 

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more. 

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other. 

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again. 

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it. 

You’re not sure what to feel anymore. 

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.” 

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers. 

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control. 

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute. 

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.” 

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?” 

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.” 

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her. 

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.” 

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge. 

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders. 

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do. 

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling. 

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall. 

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts. 

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door. 

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side. 

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand. 

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question. 

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once. 

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says. 

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.” 

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says. 

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues. 

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that. 

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along. 

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt. 

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree. 

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.” 

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them. 

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool. 

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts. 

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away. 

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it. 

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.” 

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin. 

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage. 

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname. 

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants. 

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you. 

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory. 

The worst he can say is no. 

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point. 

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong. 

“Okay.” He says. 

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying. 

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.” 

“I’ll go.” 

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting. 

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel. 

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise. 

“Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone. 

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip. 

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you. 

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.” 

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot. 

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility. 

There’s another rift in the bonds. 

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John. 

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.” 

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake. 

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far. 

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. 

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you. 

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.” 

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks. 

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too. 

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that. 

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both? 

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make. 

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort. 

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.” 

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?” 

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.” 

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel. 

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you. 

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well. 

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies. 

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it. 

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it. 

You grab one, putting it in the cart. 

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look. 

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him. 

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task. 

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want. 

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house. 

You put it in the cart. 

Now Simon. The hardest of the four. 

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently. 

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart. 

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.” 

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.” 

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon. 

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout. 

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well. 

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller. 

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath. 

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly. 

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you. 

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again. 

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed. 

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you. 

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says. 

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head. 

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again. 

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter. 

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.” 

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness. 

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what. 

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.” 

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.” 

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed. 

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder. 

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door. 

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision. 

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you. 

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree. 

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head. 

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise. 

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back. 

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it. 

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes. 

“What do you think?” Kyle asks. 

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.” 

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.” 

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items. 

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight. 

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got. 

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage. 

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all. 

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks. 

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.” 

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away. 

“I think she likes it.” 

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.” 

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile. 

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks. 

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.” 

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table. 

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.” 

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.” 

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly. 

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.” 

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.” 

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.” 

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[winchesterwild78]

Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester 

Master List

Characters:  Jensen x Reader, Dean Winchester x OC Wife, Jared, Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Sam x Eileen 

Warnings: Fluff, Smut!, more fluff

A/N: Final Story in my holiday fics. I hope you’ve enjoyed this short series. I was really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

This is a work of FICTION. Jensen is divorced from Danneel. If you don’t like that, then don’t read it. Sorry, but shit happens in life, and this was a story that popped in my head to round out this Christmas Series. 

This one is a combination of Jensen and him stepping back into the role of Dean one last time. I hope you enjoy it. 

Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen sat in his office on the phone with Eric Kripke and Robert Singer. I knew what the call was about. They wanted him to step back into the role of Dean Winchester one last time. 

Jensen had previously said he wanted to do at least one more season, maybe not 22 episodes, but at least a couple more. 

Jensen had always felt Dean deserved better. I always felt he and Dean deserved better. 

I had been a fan of his and the show well before we got married. After his divorce from Danneel we met and things progressed between us. We got married and I’ve been by his side ever since. 

Jensen came out of the office with a smirk on his face. “What’s so funny?” I asked him as he snaked his arms around my waist. 

“I think we are finally moving forward. I’m going to help write the season and direct a few episodes.” I smiled, turned and put my arms around his neck. 

I kissed his lips, “I’m so happy for you baby. You’re going to do amazing.” 

“Yeah, now we have to see how to get some of our cast back. I’m sure Jared will be on board, not sure how we can write Misha back in, but we will figure it out.” 

“I know the fans are going to go wild.” He nodded. “Yeah. I can’t wait. Eric is planning on dropping hints on Instagram once we get the green light.” 

I smiled because I knew how the fans were going to react. 

I touched his face, “Does that mean you need to practice the “Dean” voice again?” I giggled. Jensen smirked, placed his lips close to mine and in his best Dean Winchester voice he said, “You better believe it sweetheart.” 

Then he walked away. I gasped, “You’re such a tease.” He turned and grinned, crossed the room and grabbed me by the waist and placed his lips on mine. 

I moaned and melted in his arms. Jensen smiled against my lips, “Still got it.” He winked as he pulled away. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, “Jensen Ross, you better get back here and give your wife a proper kiss.” He smirked and walked up to me, grabbed me by my waist and placed his lips softly on mine. His plump lips pressed against mine as his tongue darted out and licked my lips. I parted them and he deepened the kiss. His hands moved to my hair and pulled me further into him. Our tongues moving in tandem with a familiarity. 

When he pulled away our breathing was fast and shallow. My lips were on fire. Jensen rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, “Damn baby. I’m glad I came back.” “Me too.” 

Over the next few weeks Jensen worked with Eric and Robert to secure cast and writers for the show. Jared was on board and so was Misha. The other cast members were willing to come back for an episode or two, so Jensen worked with the writers to bring people back or figure out some way to make it all make sense. 

The season was going to be 10 episodes long and the final episode was going to be a Christmas episode. The consensus online was Dean and Sam deserved a normal holiday if they got nothing else. Jensen agreed. The decision was made to leave Sam and Eileen together, married and having a son, but the writers and Jensen wanted Dean to survive and have someone too. 

Jensen spent the next few months helping write and rewrite episodes. Then came time for shooting. Off to Toronto we all went. Jensen and I went ahead and found a place big enough for his kids to come. Jared and Gen moved up temporarily with the kids. They still had their place and just found it easier to live there than for Jared to fly back and forth. 

The first day of filming arrived and Jensen was visibly nervous. All the way to set his leg bounced in the car. I placed my hand on his leg, “Hey, you’re going to do great. It’s like riding a bike. Dean is part of you and will always be. You know how to play him, and you’re finally getting to give him the proper send off he deserved.”

Jensen leaned over and kissed me, “Thank you, sweetheart.” I smiled and nodded. 

When we arrived at set Jensen got out of the car and we walked hand in hand to his trailer. 

Hanging in his closet was Dean’s costume and his boots. Jensen smirked and took a deep breath. I touched his arm, “You’ve got this baby. I’ll be here every step of the way.” 

Jensen changed and stepped into the living room and we were transported a few years back. He was Dean Winchester and never looked so good.

He went to get his hair and makeup done while I waited in the trailer. When he came back it was time for him to go to the set. “You ready baby?” I asked and he nodded. 

The first few episodes were great. I couldn’t wait to see how fans reacted to the show. Eric, Jensen and Jared had all dropped hints online and the fans were rabid about it. Not to mention the carefully leaked photos of Jared and Jensen on set in their “Sam and Dean costumes”. 

Eric wanted all the episodes filmed before they were released and we were approaching the final few. The hunt was on for a wife for Dean. The idea was to do a slight time jump and have her and Dean get married with flashes of the wedding during an episode. 

The search for an actress who was believable for Dean was proving difficult on such a short notice. So Eric and Robert cooked up an idea. 

I sat in the trailer reading when there was a knock on the door. Opening it I saw Eric and Robert. “Hey guys. What’s up?” Eric stepped in first, “We have an idea. We want you to play Dean’s wife.” I laughed, “You can’t be serious. I’ve never acted.” “We are serious. You and Jensen have incredible chemistry and that will work well for the show. I’m sure you could do it.” 

“How about I try. If I’m crap we will find someone else.” They were excited and nodded. I was handed a script and told to be in wardrobe in 2 hours. 

I was incredibly nervous. Jensen came in and looked exhausted. He noticed how nervous I was. “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong baby?” “Um, they found the person to be Dean’s love interest.” 

Jensen looked confused, “Okay, who is she? Why are you so nervous about it?” I took a deep breath, “it’s me.” I said softly. 

Jensen’s smile grew until it reached his eyes. “Really?! I get to act alongside you as my love?” I nodded “I’m not an actress, Jensen. I’m so nervous.” 

He cupped my face, “Baby it’s going to be fine. It will be just like any normal day we’re together. You’ll just have to call me Dean. I see we have a love scene coming up too.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Now that’s going to be so much fun.” 

I blushed. “Should we run some lines or practice?” “Sure darlin’, let’s go into the bedroom and practice that spicy scene. You know, just so we can get it right.” 

I laughed as he chuckled, taking my hand and he led me to the bedroom. 

We made love over and over again. Each moment made me feel less anxious. 

There was a knock on the door, “Y/N, you’re needed in wardrobe and Jensen you’re needed back on set.” 

We got up and got dressed. He kissed me one last time as I walked to wardrobe and he left for set. 

On set I took my mark. My character was meeting Sam and Dean for the first time. I was Jody’s niece and I came to help her on a case, thus meeting the boys. 

“Okay everyone, you all know Y/N, Jensen’s wife. She’s going to play Dean’s love interest. Alright, places and action!” 

“Hey boys! It’s so good to see you two. It’s been far too long.” Jody hugged Sam and Dean. “You two know almost everyone here, except my niece, Ashley.” I spun around, making eye contact with the boys. Extending my hand, “Hey guys! Nice to finally meet you two. Aunt Jody has talked about the famous Sam and Dean for years.” 

Sam shook my hand and then Dean. We were supposed to look each other in the eyes and pause for a moment, but of course Jensen had to improvise. “Hey sweetheart, you helping us out on this case?” I just ran with the improv, taking his advice to heart. 

“No, I figured I’d just stay here in the kitchen and wait by the door with a drink in hand until you returned.” Laughter ripped through the set. Jensen smirked his famous Dean smirk and I went weak in the knees. 

Dean stepped closer to me, lifted my chin, “Well Ashley, as much as I’d love that I’d much rather have you by my side on the hunt.” “Oh would you now? Dean, tell me something. Does that line ever work?” 

Sam laughed. Jody stepped in “Alright you two, leave the flirting for later. We have a job to do.” 

Before too long the director was calling cut. Everyone congratulated me and told me I was a natural. Jensen walked over, pulled me in a hug and kissed my lips. “Damn baby, you were incredible.” “Oh Jens, I was so nervous. Are you sure I did okay? When you started to improvise I almost lost it.”

“Darlin’, you were great! Come on, let’s get ready to go home. We’ve got some more practicing to do.” I giggled as he pulled me towards the trailer to change. 

The next few days on set were long and grueling. I messed up a couple of times and got so frustrated with myself. Jensen was directing the episode today so it made my nerves worse. I honestly felt like I was going to throw up. 

Jensen sat behind the camera and I was delivering lines to Sam. I fumbled because I was so nervous. “Cut!” Jensen’s voice boomed causing me to jump. 

Jensen walked up to me and took my hand, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You seem off.” “I’m just really nervous today and it’s making me nauseous. I’m sorry.” 

Jensen cupped my face and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, “You’re doing great baby. For someone who’s never acted, you’re doing an amazing job.” 

I nodded and took a deep breath, “Okay. I’m ready.” 

We continued shooting and Jensen finally called cut for the last time of the day. I was mentally and physically exhausted. 

Jensen had some things to do before he could leave the set, so I went back to the trailer, took a shower and curled up on the bed. Before too long I had fallen asleep. 

Jensen walked in and saw me asleep on the bed and smiled. He was used to these long shoots. He knew I was not . Slipping out of his boots and down to his boxers he climbed in the bed with me. 

Wrapping his arm around me, I moaned and snuggled closer to his warm body. “Mm, baby should we go home?” I whispered. Jensen tightened his arm around me, “No, let’s just stay here tonight.” I nodded and fell back to sleep. 

The next few months were filled with shoots and reshoots. Long days and early morning calls. Dean and Ashley’s relationship was taking shape on the show and the leaked information seemed to be met with excitement. The fans were rabid for more information. Eric was very careful with what was released. 

Jensen was sitting on the couch at home, pencil in his hand and a furrowed brow. He tapped his pencil on the paper and let out a long sigh. “Jens, are you okay?” He looked up, his green eyes red with exhaustion and full of frustration. “Yeah, I’m just trying to get this ending perfect. Dean deserves it, so do the fans.” 

I moved closer to him, took the pencil and paper out of his hand and straddled his lap. “Honey, take a break. It’s going to be perfect no matter what you write, because Dean isn’t the only one who needs this ending, you do too. Come on, let's get you nice and relaxed.” 

He smirked and his hands grabbed my hips, he leaned forward and kissed me. His hands slipped up my back and held me tight. I could feel the arousal settling in my core. “Jens, take me to our room, please.” I breathed out in a soft moan. 

Jensen took me to our bedroom and laid me on the bed. His hands slid up my thighs and to the waistband of my pants. I nodded and lifted my hips. He unzipped my pants and pulled them down with my panties. 

Jensen threw them to the side and let out a low growl as he stood up. I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head and Jensen unhooked my bra. “Damn baby, I am one lucky man. Look at you.” 

I blushed. “Jens, you’re over dressed.” I smirked. He pulled his shirt over his head and I clenched my thighs together at the sight of his toned body. 

I bit my lip as he removed his pants and boxers. 

Jensen’s fingertips brushed up my thighs as he climbed in between my legs. I felt the bed dip down as he positioned himself. Jensen leaned forward and kissed my lips soft at first, then full of need. His hands found my folds and his fingers delicately pushed past and to my entrance. “Damn baby, you’re soaked.” 

I moved my hips as his fingers pushed inside me. He hooked them up, pulling a moan from my lips. The sound his fingers made pushing in and out of me, and the moans from my lips filled the room with the most pornographic, erotic sound I’d ever heard. It turned me on more. 

“Mmm, that’s right baby. Cum for me. Let me hear how good it feels.” “Jens, I’m so close. Oh god baby!” I felt myself getting closer to my release. He was the only one who could ever make me cum as quickly as he does.

Jensen’s fingers moved faster and he started rubbing my clit. “Come on baby, let go. I’m right here.” My body responded to him and I came hard. My body was squeezing his fingers inside me as he helped me ride out my release.

My heart was beating fast and my legs felt like jello. Jensen smirked, leaned down and kissed my lips. “Jens, I need you, now!” I growled against his lips. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Jensen pumped himself a few times, lined himself up and pushed his engorged cockhead past my glistening lips and into my waiting core. His head dipped into the crook of my neck as he bottomed out. 

Lifting my legs up he pushed in deeper. His movements were steady and slow. Leaning down to kiss my lips and kiss down my body. 

The bed squeaked with every thrust. Jensen and my bodies tangled together and moved in perfect harmony.

My fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders as he picked up the pace. Each thrust pushed us both closer to the edge. “Jens, don’t stop…fuck! Yes! Just like that..” “Yes baby! Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m going to cum.” 

My second release hit as Jensen’s thrusts picked up. My release pulled his out with a grunt. His seed coating my insides white.

Jensen held onto me as he emptied inside me. He leaned down and kissed my lips softly, “God I love you. So much, Y/N.” I smiled against his lips, “I love you too, Jensen.”

He got out of bed and grabbed a washcloth to clean us both up. After we were clean he pulled the blanket over us and held me tight. 

“Jens, why not give Dean a baby? The fans would eat that up. They’ve always wanted Dean to have a wife and a child.” Jensen laid in the bed, quiet. I could tell he was thinking. 

“I tell you what, let’s write it out and see how it looks on paper and if we could make it work.” I nodded.

As he tried to get up, I pulled him back down. “Absolutely not, Mr Ackles. You’re staying right here with me for a while. I’m not some cheap floozy you can bang and then leave.” I smirked. 

“Oh believe me, you’re not cheap. Far from it sweetheart.” Jensen smirked and I gasped. I feigned hurt. “Aww sweetheart, I was only kidding.” “I bet Dean Winchester wouldn’t treat me like that.” I stuck my tongue out and Jensen laughed. “No, he wouldn’t, but your husband loves to banter with you and would do anything to make you happy, even give you a baby.”

My eyes shot up and I looked at him, gasping softly. “What?” “Sweetheart, I know you want a baby, our baby. Maybe after we wrap, you and I can try.”

“Jensen, are you sure? I know you already have 3.” 

He cupped my face, “Yes, I’m sure. What do you say?” I kissed his lips, peppering his face with kisses, “Yes, Jensen! Yes, I want to try.” 

The next few weeks the finale was written and Jensen seemed satisfied with it. The shoots and reshoots were really starting to take its toll on me. 

Jensen would often find me curled up on the couch or the bed in between shoots. Today was no different, except I had a cold that was making the exhaustion worse. 

I didn’t have any scenes today, so I stayed in the trailer. Around lunchtime I walked to craft services to get something to eat. I grabbed a little of everything and carried it back to the trailer. Sitting on the couch I ate my fill, grabbed the blanket and fell back to sleep. 

About an hour later Jensen came in for his lunch break and saw all the food. He laughed, “Hey sweetheart, looks like you’ve gotten your appetite back.” I stretched and rubbed my eyes, “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I wanted so I grabbed a little of everything.” He chuckled, “Looks like it. How are you feeling?”

“Still really tired. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, I really hope I don’t have the flu. I have an early shoot tomorrow.” Jensen looked up, “Do you need me to go with you?” I shook my head no, “I’ll be okay. Besides, you have an afternoon shoot.” 

The afternoon appointment provided answers, ones that brought even more of a challenge. Arriving back on the lot I went to the set to see how filming was going. They had just wrapped for the day and Jensen was meeting with Eric and Robert about the finale. 

Jensen saw me and motioned to me. “Hey baby. How was your appointment?” “It was good. So, how did you two like the finale writing?” 

“It was great! What do you think?” I placed my hand in Jensen’s, “I think it’s perfect.” 

“Great, we start shooting the last episode in about a week. You rest and take care of yourself.” I nodded, “I will, doc said it’s nothing bad and it will pass.” 

The day to shoot the final episode was here and I was so nervous. Jensen had gone to set early and I was meeting him there. I grabbed my stuff and headed to set. 

Changing into my costume I walked to set. Jensen and Jared were already on set when I walked in. “Hey baby. You ready?” I nodded, “Yep, let’s do it.”

Robert took his place behind the camera, he and Jensen were directing the final episode, but because Jensen was in this scene he was in the hot seat. 

“Alright, places! Action!” 

“Come on Dean, Sam, Eileen and their son will be here any minute. I need you to help me set the table.” “In a minute, sweetheart. I’ve got to finish wrapping this present.” 

Ashley sighed. Hearing him fight with the paper and tape had her giggling. “Knock, knock. Dean, Ashley, we’re here.” “In the kitchen, Sam.” Ashley yelled from the bunker kitchen.

Sam and Eileen walked in with Sam Jr. in her arms. Ashley smiled and held out her hands for the baby. “How is the cutest nephew in the world?! Auntie Ashley missed you so much.” Placing a kiss on his head, she handed the baby back. 

“Okay, y’all go make yourselves comfortable, dinner is almost ready.” Dean walked into the kitchen and snaked his arms around her waist. “Need any help, baby?” “No, go spend time with Sammy, your sister in law and your nephew.” 

He nodded, walked over to the plate of cookies and swiped one. “Dean Winchester! You’re going to spoil your dinner.” He laughed and walked out, popping the cookie in his mouth.

After dinner and dessert everyone gathered around the Christmas Tree to exchange gifts. Ashley and Dean bought Sam a new briefcase, because he was headed back to law school. “Guys, this is awesome. Thank you!” 

Other gifts were exchanged and Ashley had one more for Dean. She walked over towards Dean with a small box in hand. Taking a steady breath she handed it to him. 

Dean’s green eyes sparkling with excitement, “What’s this?” Ashley smiled, “Just open it.” Dean carefully pulled the paper off and opened the box. In the box was a picture frame, and in the picture frame was a black and white photo. Dean’s face contorted with confusion. “What is this picture of?” 

“Dean, look closely at it.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I was so nervous, because this wasn’t just a gift for Dean, it was meant for Jensen too. 

Dean looked closely at it and realized it was a sonogram. “Wait, does this mean you’re pregnant?” I nodded, “Yes Dean, you’re going to be a daddy.” Jensen was confused because this was not part of the script. He looked closer at the sonogram and saw my name on it. His eyes shot up to mine as the realization hit him. He whispered as tears filled his eyes, “You’re pregnant?” 

Tears filled my eyes and they started to fall, “Yes, we’re having a baby, Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester.” Jensen leaped out of the chair and threw his arms around me, pulling me into a kiss. 

“And Cut! Perfect you two!” We were too wrapped up in the kiss to pull apart. Eric and Robert came up to us and as we parted congratulated Jensen and I.

Jensen’s eyes went wide, “You two knew?” “Of course we did. How else do you think it got written in?” They laughed. 

Jensen and I walked back to our trailer, his hand on the small of my back, his other holding the sonogram. I was so nervous. “Y/N, are you okay?” I nodded.

“Jens, I know we talked about waiting until later, but I guess fate had other plans. I’m sorry.” 

He cupped my face, “Shh hey, no. This is amazing. We’re having a baby! I can’t believe it. Dean’s getting the ending he deserves, with a beautiful wife and a baby, and I get to have a baby with my beautiful wife. Everything is perfect.”

“I love you, Jensen so much.” “I love you too, Y/N, (he placed his hand on my belly) and I love you too.”

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

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[ofmdrecaps]

12/15-16/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR: David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Nathan Foad; Leslie Jones; Vico Ortiz; Samson Kayo; Kristin Schaal; Madeleine Sami; Guz Khan; Adopt Our Crew and Save Queer Stories; Fan Spotlight: TinyCrewBigRaffle Updates; Our Glad Means Fanfiction; Never Left Podcast; OFMD Advent Calendar; Loves Notes;

= David Jenkins =

Annnnnnd Chaos Dad is back to his old vendettas against cats!

Source: David Jenkins Bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys was featured in Beat Magazine for his upcoming tour!

Source: Rhys Darby's Instagram

= Taika Waititi =

Taika out in AUS or Aotearoa!

Source: Instagram

= Nathan Foad =

Nathan shared this video made by ourflagonmax about Lucius.. with the message "miss him :')". We do too Nathan!! I attached the video down below!

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A post shared by Our Flag Means Death (@ourflagonmax)

Source: Our Flag On Max

= Leslie Jones =

Leslie is currently in Italy! She's been posting great videos that you can check out on her Instagram!

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A post shared by Leslie Jones (@lesdogggg)

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A post shared by Leslie Jones (@lesdogggg)

Source: Leslie's Instagram

= Samson Kayo =

Some more Samson out Behind the Scenes of the F1 movie!

Source: Instagram

= Vico Ortiz =

Tale of the Transcestors was live for 12/12 - 12/14! There were so many amazing photos taken, check them out below!

Source: ChloeGlowyFlowy Instagram

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A post shared by Donato Fatuesi (@dfatuesi)

Source: Instagram

Source: Germaine Arroyo Instagram

= Kristen Schaal =

Now I don't feature her too often, but I thought it'd be a good idea for this recap because Kristin Schaal (aka Antoinette from The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, and you may also recognize her as Mel from Flight of the Conchords!) was a big part of the What We Do In The Shadows TV Show which had its finale on the 16th!

Source: K. Schaal's Intagram

= Madeleine Sami =

In case you hadn't heard, Deadloch Season 2 is wrapped! Look at these lovely ladies! Can't wait for the next season!

Source: Madeleine Sami's Instagram

= Guz Khan =

Source: Guz Khan

== Adopt Our Crew - Save Our Queer Stories ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew shared the initiative of @savequeerstories! Want to help support our cancelled show (or so many others that were cancelled prematurely) their carrd has some great ways to help! https://actforqueerstories.carrd.co./#action

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= OFMD Buys Boats =

Some more updates from our friends @ofmd-buys-boats!

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Instagram Stories

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

A new podfic episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction is out --"Up, Down, Turn Around" by Shearwater, and read by Andrew. According to OFMFF, this Andrea's first podfic!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

= Never Left Podcast =

New episode of Never Left! This week they're talking about Art! There are some supportive visuals to check out as well!

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A post shared by Never Left (@neverleftpodcast)

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A post shared by Never Left (@neverleftpodcast)

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A post shared by Never Left (@neverleftpodcast)

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= OFMD Advent Calendar =

Another set of Advent Calendar doors by our sweet TillyChMo on @ofmdadventcalendar.bsky.social! The 9th Door Features the fantastic @inkirtis!

The 10th Door features the glorious @clairegregoryau!

The 11th Door features the very sweet @cufeilidh!

Source: OFMDAdventCalendar Bsky

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies, things have been a bit crazy with the holidays going on! Will be catching up as I can-- hope you all are staying safe out there! I am trying to get two recaps out tonight, so this first one will be some other folks love notes for ya <3 Take care!

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Source: Anxiety Positive Instagram

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A post shared by Dani DiPirro (@positivelypresent)

Source: Positively Present Instagram

[kinzhae]

Hi hiiii! Okay so... I'm not quite sure if you accept like request and all but i enjoyed your vlog so much cause been craving for Gojo angst that hurts my heart and i love it 😭😭

And i have this idea... You know Toga Himiko right? So like i have this idea in mind where Gojo neglected the reader, like the bully fic you made? And so, in the end Gojo was like dyin (In his teens where he still didn't know RCT). Reader having the same power as Toga Himiko so yeah you know what happens next.

That episode ached my heart so much that i cried and i kinda wanna see it in Gojo x reader part. You don't have to make it just sayin my idea and all 😅

Omgg hello, you are actually the first person who requested to write something so ofc I will do it. I didnt continue watching MHA after season 2 so I might not capture Toga Himiko's quirk that well </3 but I still tried and hoping you will like it.

Note: it ended with a slight angst.

Past Wound That Will Never Change

The world had always been cruel to those who were different, and you learned that lesson early. Your cursed technique was rare, one that made people uneasy. By consuming the blood of others, you could take on their appearance and, to a degree, their abilities. It was powerful, yes, but it was also isolating. People whispered behind your back, called you a parasite, and avoided you like a curse waiting to manifest.

Gojo Satoru, of course, had been the worst of them all.

He wasn’t just cruel; he was relentless. With his unmatched abilities and natural charisma, he had no reason to think twice about how his words or actions might hurt you. To him, you were a joke, a walking anomaly he could poke fun at when life at Jujutsu High grew dull.

“You ever think about how creepy you are?” he’d say, his friends laughing along. “Like, do you just look at someone and think, ‘Wow, I wanna drink their blood’? That’s disgusting, man.”

The words stung every time. You tried to fight back, to pretend his insults didn’t matter, but he had a way of cutting deeper than anyone else. The more you tried to stand your ground, the more he mocked you.

“You’re not even a real sorcerer,” he said once, his voice dripping with disdain. “You just leech off of everyone else. What’s the point of keeping you around?”

No one defended you. Geto sometimes gave you a pitying glance, but even he didn’t dare go against Gojo. They were close friends after all. You were utterly alone, and every day felt like a battle you were losing.

It all came to a head during a mission gone wrong. You’d been sent out with Gojo and another student to exorcise a particularly nasty curse. Things had been going well until Gojo, confident as ever, underestimated the enemy. The curse turned its attention on you, nearly killing you in the process. You barely managed to survive, but when the dust settled, Gojo shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Stop being so dramatic.”

That was the moment something inside you broke. That night, you packed your things and left Jujutsu High without a word. If they thought you were a parasite, then so be it. You would survive on your own terms, far away from their judgmental eyes.

---

Years passed, and you became someone entirely different. The pain of your past hardened into a cold resolve. You used your cursed technique without restraint, earning a reputation as a rogue sorcerer. People feared you, and for the first time in your life, you felt powerful. You no longer cared about proving yourself to anyone. You lived by your own rules, taking what you needed and leaving destruction in your wake.

But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

You found him in the ruins of a cursed battlefield, slumped against a crumbling wall, his once-pristine uniform soaked with blood. Gojo Satoru, the untouchable, was dying.

He looked up at you with bleary eyes, his usual confidence replaced by something fragile.

“Figures,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Of all people… it had to be you.”

You stared at him, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, bitterness, and something you didn’t want to name. He looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you’d never imagined. For a brief moment, you considered leaving him there. It would be poetic, wouldn’t it? Letting him die alone, just like he’d left you to fend for yourself all those years ago.

But you couldn’t do it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coldly, kneeling beside him. “I’m not doing this for you.

He didn’t respond, too weak to argue. His blood pooled around him, staining the ground a deep crimson. You bit into your hand, drawing your own blood, and then leaned down to press your lips to his wound. The metallic taste filled your mouth as your cursed technique activated, his power flooding into you.

It was overwhelming. For a brief moment, you were the strongest, the infinite possibilities of his Limitless technique unfurling in your mind. You used it to heal his wounds, channeling his power with a precision that surprised even you. When it was done, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you staggered to your feet.

Gojo sat up slowly, testing his limbs. He looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“You saved me,” he said quietly.

“Don’t read into it,” you snapped. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

He frowned, guilt flickering across his face. “Why? After everything I—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “You don’t get to apologize. Not after what you did.”

He fell silent, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found. For once, he looked small, almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was a fool back then. I didn’t—”

“Stop,” you said, your tone icy. “I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it. Just live with it, Gojo. Live with what you did.”

You turned and walked away, leaving him sitting there, his words hanging in the air. He didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t call after you. He simply watched as you disappeared into the distance, the weight of his guilt settling over him like a shroud.

---

Gojo recovered, but the encounter haunted him. He searched for you, hoping for a chance to make amends, but you were always one step ahead, always out of reach. The guilt of what he had done to you lingered, a constant reminder of his failures. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t fix what he had broken.

You, on the other hand, continued to live on your own terms. Saving him hadn’t changed anything. It hadn’t softened the bitterness in your heart or erased the scars he left behind. You didn’t forgive him, and you didn’t need to.

In the end, the past was a wound neither of you could heal. He was left to carry the weight of his guilt, while you carried the scars of his cruelty.

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Off Script Feelings

Pairing:  Norman Reedus x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4453

Warnings: RPF, This is a work of fiction.

Summary: Something happens between you and your friend Norman that changes things.

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated.

Dedicated to: @minervadashwood & @littlegodzilla

‘If he was Rick, ya’d done the same thang.’

Erin shook her head, ‘No, because Rick wouldn’t treat me like Merle treats you.’

‘Ya don’t know nothan’’ Daryl snapped. 

‘I know Merle was the one that took me, Glen, and Maggie, back to that psycho as some kind of peace offering knowing what he was like. How could you go with him after that?’

‘Merle is my family, my blood. He’s all I got.” 

‘No, you got us. After everything, we’re family too.’ Erin pleaded. 

‘Nah, that’s Rick, and, Carl, and the baby. I’m just a tagalong ya’ll keep round to hunt n’ stuff.’

‘Then why’d you come back?’

‘I dun know!’ Daryl raged. 

“And Cut! That’s a wrap!”

You watched as all the anger and frustration vanished from your costar’s face, replaced with his concerned eyes and a small smile before he stepped forward to envelop you in his arms. You buried your face in his broad chest and took the comfort he offered you. “Sorry, sorry. Was it too much?”

“No, it was good, it just felt a little too real is all,” You explained as you pulled back and looked up at him. “Sometimes you’re just too good of an actor Norman.”

“Nah, just good at being an asshole,” Norman replied with a laugh as he kept his arm around your shoulder.

You laughed along with him, thinking of one particular instance where he had indeed been a bit of an asshole or at least you thought he was. It just happened to be the first time they met. 

You had been hired as one of the original cast members of The Walking Dead TV series, to play the younger sister to Andy’s character Rick, Erin Grimes. You had bonded quickly with your onscreen ‘family’ including Jon but also the other cast members so you had been excited to meet another one going into the next episode. 

You had been grabbing something to eat between takes at the crafts table when you heard someone come up behind you. You turned to discover it was Norman Reedus (You’d googled him like you had almost everyone) but before you could introduce yourself, he gave you one look and laughed in your face. You were so thrown off guard and embarrassed that you had stomped away. You couldn’t believe they had hired someone like that and you mentally hoped they killed off his character quickly. 

It wasn’t until a short while later when Sarah pointed out that you had food on your face that you knew that was why Norman had laughed at you. Your anger dissipated, replaced with embarrassment. The next time you saw Norman, the two of you talked about what happened and your friendship had begun. Now a few years later, the two of you were thick as thieves. 

“Let’s go out tonight, and grab some food and drinks,” Norman suggested as he guided the two of you off the set and towards your waiting trailers. “Nothing shakes off the day like shots.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his suggestion. They usually used shots as the cure for anything, though sometimes that led them to more trouble. “While I like the idea, I am not up for going out. Today took a lot out of me.”

“We’ll stay in then.” He said with a shrug. 

“No, you don’t have to do that.” You said as you shook your head. You didn’t want to ruin his night. “Go out with the others and enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t know of anyone going out tonight,” Norman replied simply while rubbing a finger along his bottom lip and you knew he was coming up with something. “How about we go to my place? I’ll even cook if there is nothing we want to order and I have plenty of liquor. You can crash overnight if you need to.”

You were close to declining his offer when you thought better of it. While being out with a bunch of people didn’t sound appealing, neither did being home alone. “How can I say no to that offer?”

Norman smiled that beautiful smile that made the fan girls melt at you and you felt your heart beat a little faster, your stomach do a little flip, and another part of your anatomy grow in warmth. You couldn’t help it. Norman may be a close friend, but what you felt for him wasn’t just friendship. You knew it was more yet you did your best to not show it. You didn’t want to ruin things between you so you did not admit how you felt.

The two of you talked over the details before you decided that showering at his house would be better than your trailers. So you changed out of your costume, grabbed your bag, said goodbye to the rest of the cast and crew before you followed Norman’s bike to his house in your car. 

Showering at Norman’s or one of the cast’s places wasn’t new. It happened more than most people would think. It came in handy given that the cast hung out a lot together after their days were done so you needed no direction to the guests’ bathroom at Norman’s house. This was good considering his cat distracted him when they walked in the door. The powerful pressure and hot water felt wonderful on your skin as it washed away the dirt and makeup from the day. You became so relaxed that you stayed under the water longer than you meant to, so you quickly shut off the shower. 

Dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, you headed towards the music playing in the living room to look for Norman. It only took a moment to find him in his kitchen, phone to his ear, talking to someone while cooking. From what you could see by the ingredients, he was making one of your favorite dishes. 

You took a moment to look him over. His hair was still slightly damp so you knew he must have showered before he dressed in a dark pair of lounge pants and a plain white T-shirt with no socks, perfect for a night in. When he caught sight of you, he motioned to the beer he was drinking from then the fridge where you knew cold beer was waiting for you.

Not wanting to eavesdrop on his call, you took your drink to the couch to relax. You were so focused on the game on your phone that you didn’t hear Norman approach you until a plate of food suddenly appeared. It smelled delicious and you could barely contain a moan. “You’re a Saint.”

“Aye lass,” Norman replied in his Murphy accent as he winked while you laughed. Along with the food, he had brought another round of beers that he sat down before taking a spot next to you, close enough that the lengths of your legs were touching. 

As you ate, you listened to Norman as he told a story about something that had recently happened during his last trip to New York, as always surprised that he didn’t end up wearing half of his food as he did so. Norman always talked so animatedly that people teased that you watched him talk versus listening. It was like having dinner and a show. You had just finished the second beer when the topic of your conversation turned towards work and the scenes you had been filming. 

“After what we shot today, it looks like the writers are planning on something happening with Daryl and Erin,” Norman commented as he looked at you as if he needed confirmation. 

“Yeah.” You nodded in agreement. During season one, there was a scene between their two characters when the gang was at the CDC that got the fans speculating that there could be something more between the archer and the sheriff’s sister. The idea grew after season two aired and they shared more scenes on the farm and the search for Sophia. People ‘shipped’ them, they said they enjoyed watching Daryl’s interactions with Erin as well as his friendship with Carol. It had been talked about quite a bit at the conventions they had been to, though not all of Daryl’s fans were on board. “Or at least the seeds of it, see if the fans really want it. Drag it out as a slow burn.”

“What?” Norman asked confused. 

“Slow burn, it’s a well-known romance trope, where the writers take a long time to get a couple together.” You explained.

“Ah, I defer to the expert.” He said with a smile. It was well-known on set that you read a lot on set between takes, most of them being some type of romance novels. Norman and Andy loved to tease you about the more racy ones you read. 

“Hey!” You replied before smacking his arm. “Not all of us can be the brooding photographer, I need something to keep occupied during the downtime.” 

“Well all you’d have to do is ask and I’d be happy to keep you occupied.” 

Trying not to let Norman’s joke affect you too much, you focused back on the talk of your characters. “IF they get them together, they will actually be doing several troupes; enemies to lovers, best friend’s sister, maybe idiots in love.” 

“Whatever they do, I’m still all for playing Daryl completely lost at what to do,” Norman professed. You had heard him talk about playing Daryl as a stranger to physical relationships, or as he explained it ‘having no game’. “Not like a virgin but damn close. Erin would have to make the first move. I’m sure any time he’s been laid in the past was drunk in an alley or something quick like that.” 

“So Erin would be a seductress?” You asked as your eyebrow raised. 

“Ha, nothing like that. Just like in the moment, she would have to be the one to do anything because Daryl wouldn’t think to do it.” Norman explained. “Say the two of them are really close, physically I mean, and anyone watching would think it is the moment, but Daryl just wouldn’t do it.”

“Hmmm. I can see it.” You agreed. You didn’t know if it was the buzz you were feeling from the beers that gave you the courage to do it or if you had just lost your mind but you shifted around so you were on your knees and brought your face closer to Norman’s. You saw a brief flicker of surprise in his beautiful blue eyes before they turned curious as to what you were doing. 

“What if Daryl did something for her, and as a thank you she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek? Then when she pulls back, their faces are really close. So then she would take the chance and press her lips to his.” You explained. 

“I think I see what you are saying, but you should show me,” Norman said, his eyes dropping to your lips at the same time as his eyes darkened.  

You licked your lips before you began to lean forward. You had kissed Norman on the cheek numerous times, but this felt different. Not letting your nerves stop you, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his stubbled cheek, just a hairsbreadth away from the corner of his lips. You pulled back slightly, keeping your eyes locked on Norman’s. “Like that, then when she pulled back, he would be looking at her and they have a moment. Then she would kiss him.”

“Hmmm,” Norman murmured in acknowledgment and kept his eyes locked on yours. “Show me.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. They were soft and tender, not at all like you expected them to be. He was tentative, and exploratory, the velvety smooth touch of his lips ignited desire within your body. Norman's lips moved against yours for a moment before he withdrew slightly away from her, opening his eyes to look to you for a reaction. Instead of saying anything, you ran your hand along the side of his neck and pulled him towards you to place a firm kiss on his lips. 

This kiss was full of desire and passion. All the sexual tension between the two of them that had built up over the time you had met each other fueled the moment. Norman’s mouth molded over yours, hard and persuasive, parting your lips with the thrust of his tongue. He ravished your mouth as he brought his hands to your hips and tugged you to straddle him, bringing you closer to him deepening the kiss as he did. 

Your bodies rubbed against each other trying to touch as much as possible. You could lose yourself in his touch the way your body instinctively molded into his. Norman moved away from your mouth, his soft lips left soft kisses against your temple, the outline of your ear, your jaw. He found a spot behind your right ear and lingered there until your breath grew ragged. 

He continued his journey down the column of your throat, his breath warming where your neck met shoulder. You couldn’t help but bite down on your lower lip to stifle a soft gasp as his stubble brushed against the delicate skin along your collarbone, his lips sought out and found the most sensitive spots on your neck, causing the nerve endings in your skin to tingle in anticipation. You released the hold you had on his neck, letting your hands slide down so you could run your hands over the muscles of his chest. You could feel his muscles contract a little at your touch and your hips moved, brushing your core against his hard arousal. 

At your movement, Norman’s hands slid down from your waist to over your ass. He squeezed it roughly before he moved them down farther to the back of your thighs. His grip tightened on your thighs before he rose from the couch. When you felt yourself leave the couch, you wrapped your legs around Norman's waist. You yelped a little in surprise, but you knew that his strong arms had you secure against him. Without pulling away from you, Norman made his way down the hall towards his bedroom. 

*****

The first thing you noticed as you came out of sleep was a heavyweight you weren’t used to draped across your midsection. You cracked your eyes open to see what it was and found yourself face to face with a sleeping Norman. He lay on his stomach while you were on your back, and his arm wrapped loosely at your side. Your eyes wandered lower and saw naked flesh down to the slope of his ass where a sheet lay half-hazard. Confusion flooded you for a moment before the memories of the night before flooded your thoughts and you know exactly how you got into the state you were in; naked in Norman’s bed with him. You had had sex with him, and not just once if your memories and ache in your body were correct. 

Very carefully you slid out from under Norman’s large arm, thankfully not waking him, and began hunting for your clothes. You couldn’t believe you had been so stupid to let yourself give in to your feelings for Norman. What were you thinking? This was going to screw up everything. If it had just been sex between friends, you could deal with it and you knew that was what Norman had probably been thinking it was. However, your feelings for him made things much harder to deal with. 

Once you found your clothes, plus your keys and phone you crept towards the door but stopped when a flicker of movement caught your eyes. You glanced over thinking it was Norman but instead finding yourself caught in the stare of Eyes in the Dark. And if you weren’t wrong, he had a look of judgment on his face. “Great, I’m caught doing the walk of shame by a cat.”

After you escaped the house and headed back to your place without breaking too many speeding laws, you took a quick shower. A part of you didn’t want to wash off Norman’s scent but you had to go to the set and you couldn’t go smelling like sex. You found several marks on your body but thankfully he had kept them in areas that could be covered easily by clothes. You didn’t want to have to explain to the makeup people why they had to cover up hickeys on your neck. 

Thankfully the scenes you had to do for the day were with Andy and Chandler and not with Norman. You couldn’t even remember if he was filming that day, the lack of sleep and your mind going over what happened had done a number on you. Luckily you remembered your lines and had no issues that might give yourself away. Or so you thought. 

“You seem off today is all,” Andy said as he came up and sat next to you out of the way as the two of you waited for the crew to line up the next scene. You looked up from your phone, you noticed you had a few missed phone calls and even more missed texts from Norman. 

“Just tired.” You replied with a small smile but Andy seemed to study you even closer at your answer as he took a drag off his cigarette. 

He nudges your shoulder with a teasing smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I don't think that's it," he comments, the words hanging heavy in the air between you, thick with unspoken implications. You know with a certainty that borders on dread that Andy won't cease his gentle pestering. His persistence is unmatched, a relentless tide of playful prodding that washes over you, leaving you feeling increasingly exposed. It reminds you painfully of Norman, his own brand of determined teasing, a constant, low-grade annoyance that somehow, inexplicably, you found yourself strangely drawn to.

A wave of self-deprecation washes over you. Internally, you roll your eyes at your own predictable weakness. You know, with a frustrating certainty, that you'll soon cave.

"Fine," you relent, the word escaping your lips before you can fully consider the consequences. "But you cannot say anything to anyone. Except Gail, of course. But no one else."

Andy, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint that belies his easy going demeanor, assures you, "You have my word."

Casting a quick glance around, you check for any lurking ears, your gaze sweeping the room for potential eavesdroppers. The air feels thick with a sudden, unwarranted paranoia. Finally, you commit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "I might have… kind of… had sex with Norman last night."

Andy raises an eyebrow, feigning an exaggerated seriousness that does little to conceal the amusement bubbling beneath the surface. "You're not sure?" he asks, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. A gentle jest, you know, aimed more at easing your tension than anything else.

Your glare is half-hearted, a feeble attempt to scold him for his teasing. "I'm sure we did. That's the problem."

"Why? Was it that bad?" he quips, unable to fully suppress the grin that threatens to split his face.

Unable to suppress your own laughter, a sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep within you, you find yourself admitting, "Stop! It's not that."

"What?" He laughs with you, his eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity. "Just asking why it's a problem?"

Exasperated yet oddly amused, you exclaim, "WHY? Why do you think? If it was just sex, between friends, it'd be okay, but this is sex with Norman."

Andy's confusion is evident, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to decipher your words. "How is that different? You and Norman are friends, close friends."

"We are," you confess, the weight of your admission settling heavily on your chest. "It's just… I might care about Norman as a little more than a friend." Saying it aloud is strange, a truth you've only ever confided in Lauren, a secret that has festered within you, unspoken and unacknowledged. Now that you've started confessing, it's like a dam has burst, the flood of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "So sleeping with him was beyond stupid of me. It's like I wanted to torture myself because I know something more with him is something I can't have."

Andy, with the ease of someone who has long since accepted the absurdity of your situation, asks, "What makes you say that?"

"Because Norman just sees me as a friend," you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Andy's sudden, boisterous laughter catches you completely off guard, the last reaction you were expecting. "I'm glad the mess of my life is funny," you retort, a mixture of playful indignation and genuine hurt coloring your voice.

"Oh sweetheart, that is not what I'm laughing at," he explains, his laughter subsiding as he pulls you into a comforting embrace. "It's hilarious how blind the two of you are."

"What do you mean?" you ask, your curiosity piqued despite your earlier annoyance.

"It is obvious to everyone but you two how much you care about each other," Andy says, his voice soft and sincere. "Maybe even in love with each other. You might have just told me, but I've known for a while now. Jon even left me with orders to text him as soon as the two of you got it together. We might all be actors, but the two of you can't hide it to save your life."

You opened your mouth to argue more, but before you could the call back to our marks was called out. Everything Andy said was on a loop in your head an hour later when you headed back to your trailer for a break. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the other person inside until you shut the door behind you. Then you found yourself trapped by a pair of piercing blue eyes. “Norman.”

He sat on the sofa in his regular clothes, hat, and sunglasses sitting next to him. His phone was in his hand but he paid no attention, instead focused on you. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up and found myself alone this morning.” 

“I had to get to set.” You stated but even to your ears, it sounded like a weak excuse. You could see Norman thought the same thing by the look on his face. 

“I’ve been texting, and calling. Decided you couldn’t ignore me if I showed up,” Norman said as stood up and walked towards you. You could tell he was watching you to make sure he didn’t make you uncomfortable or that you’d run from him. When you didn’t, he leaned his forehead against yours and his hands on your hips before he whispered. “Did we mess things up last night? Did I?”

You closed your eyes as you leaned into him. “No. It wasn’t you. I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.” 

“You might not have noticed, but I didn’t mind.” He joked. “I enjoyed it a lot and I thought you did too.”

“I did. A lot.” You admitted. It was the truth. The night spent with Norman had been incredible, and not just because of the many orgasms he had pulled out of you. It had been passionate and intense mixed with tenderness. A level of intimacy you had rarely felt before. And you were feeling it right now in his arms as well.

“I wanted everything just as much as you did. I wanted you.” Norman stated before adding. “I still want you.”

“It is not that simple Norman. I wish it was something as simple as sex between friends, blowing off steam after a tense day. I can’t separate sex from how I feel about you.” You admitted. You hadn’t planned to tell Norman how you felt, but what had gone as you thought it would since last night. “I could put those feelings aside to just be your friend but having a physical relationship would be too much.”

“Then don’t.” 

“Don’t?” You repeated.

“Don’t put your feelings aside,” Norman explained. “For me what happened last night wasn’t just sex. I took you to my bed because I wanted you, not because you are beautiful and sexy as hell but because you’re you. And when you kissed me, I hoped that meant something, that there was something more between us.”

“Really?” You asked and Norman nodded. You couldn’t believe it, Andy had been right. 

“Yes.” He answered. “I enjoy the time we spend together, and I value you as a friend, but friendship is not the only way I want you in my life. I know I’m not easy to deal with, even working together there are times I’m gone, and there are a bunch of other reasons why you wouldn’t want to be with me but I hope.”

“I don’t care.” You said to interrupt him. “I know what I’m getting into and none of that stuff matters.”

This time the smile Norman gave you was a shy one, but still got your heart rate up. “So we’re doing this?”

“Yes. I want to see where this goes.” 

“Hmm, I think we should seal this with a kiss.” 

“Oh you do, do you?” You said with a laugh. 

Instead of answering with words, Norman moved to do what he suggested. His lips had just brushed yours when there was a knock at the door, one of the crew calling you back to set. You both groaned at the horrible timing. 

Norman kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead before saying. “Go finish your scenes. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“You’re staying here?” You knew Norman had no reason to be on set today besides coming to see you.

“Yeah. I’ll keep myself occupied and when you’re done, I’ll take you out to dinner. Unless you want to stay in again?”

“Tempting, but I think dinner out would be nice.” You stated. You liked the idea of the two of you alone but also thought it would be nice go to out. It would keep the two of you in check if others were around. 

Norman planted a quick kiss on your lips before pushing you towards the door. “Go, before I decide to say fuck the shooting schedule and not let you out of here.”

You laughed at his ‘threat’. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

[pepperonidk]

iii. tell me your favorite love song || to.you

↳ "i wanna sing it with you''

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoox gn!Reader Summary: Council meeting! It's time for you to reminisce on failed dates and first confessions with Seungkwan, Soonyoung, Hansol, and Chan! Warnings: cursing, jeonghan slander (i'm so sorry, it's for the plot) Songs Mentioned: completely - jaehyun

A/N:  This is a bit of a filler episode, sorry y'all. Hope everyone is enjoying their december! It's my favorite time of the year. The next two parts are pretty holiday vibe heavy.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

⏮ previous track || back to playlist || next track ⏭ 

“Did you… Did you write that yourself?”

The last note from the piano seemed to echo through the room for a while before Wonwoo finally turned to look at you.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Just finished it last night actually.” Wonwoo looked down at the piano keys as his fingers ghosted over them, touching them with enough pressure to push down but not make a sound. “What did you think of it?” he asked. He seemed more vulnerable than you had seen him before, like you were seeing him in a way he wasn’t even used to seeing himself.

“It’s really good,” you answered. You weren’t really sure what else to say. It was good, it felt personal, like something more than just a catchy song. He had used your words, that had to mean something, but you weren’t sure what. “Was that part about the coffee–”

“From you?” Wonwoo interrupted. Although he was looking away from you, you could see his ears turn pink. “Yeah, it was. I’m glad you noticed.”

You felt something flutter away at your chest. “I’m glad I could help you out,” you replied. If he wasn’t going to say anything more than that, then you would just take it for what it was. Wonwoo nodded but didn’t reply. “I’m really flattered that I got to hear it first.”

Wonwoo finally looked up at you. “Of course,” his head tilted. “Who else would I play it for?” As if it was the most obvious thing. 

You’re sure your eyes widened in surprise and your cheeks definitely went pink, because almost immediately, Wonwoo coughed and added, “You helped me write it so obviously you’d hear it first.” Right. That’s all. He was just offering something in return.

“Oh,” you began. Not sure if the sigh that escaped your lips was relief or disappointment. “Well if you ever need to write another song, you know where to find me. Though maybe I should start charging.” You hoped your tone was as light and playful as you intended it to be.

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head. Good. “Name your price.” 

Before you could add on, his phone buzzed against the wood of the piano and he reached out to check it. His fingertips flexed as they wrapped around it.

“It’s Mingyu,” he explained. “We have band practice in 20...” He pocketed his phone before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you around?”

His eyes seemed to twinkle under the fluorescents of the practice room and you felt your heart thud against your chest. He smiled. “See you around.”

Wonwoo left right after that, and you found yourself stuck in the room thinking about his song. Your fingers pressed against some of the keys that you remember him playing, as if looking for a code to see what he was thinking. It felt… electric, to have something, not quite a secret, between the two of you. You couldn’t help but imagine him singing it on stage, no one else knowing that you had wormed your way into the lyrics of his song. 

You found yourself wishing that you could hear him sing your song — the song about yo– the song he wrote that just so happened to include your words and seemed to describe exactly how you were feeling about him – again. Maybe he’d say it was for you.

Maybe he’d say it was how he felt about you too.

Later that night, you found yourself at Seungkwan, Chan, and Hansol’s place, laying on their sofa. You had sent out a text to your group chat, in desperate need of more minds on the case. Seungkwan went out to pick up a pizza and Chan and Hansol stayed behind with you. A knock sounded on the door and Chan stood up to answer the door. You heard him groan immediately as it swung open.

“Why the hell are you here?” Chan spoke. It was immediately obvious from his lack of enthusiasm that he was not speaking to Seungkwan.

You heard Seungkwan’s voice reply easily. “Relax, Chan.” He sighed. “I heard this was a council meeting,” he explained nonchalantly as he walked in with two boxes of pizza and a smug looking Soonyoung behind him. “I saw Soonyoung on my way here and figured he could be helpful.” The two of them smiled and waved as they walked into the living room and set the pizzas down on the coffee table.

“I don’t let strays into my place, Seungkwan,” Chan huffed as he shut the door behind him, letting Soonyoung into his place anyway.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes and you chuckled as he chastised Chan. “Our place,” he corrected. 

“And besides,” Hansol chimed in. “Just last week you pulled over in the parking garage and caused a 15 minute traffic jam because you stopped to pick up a lost cat.”

Chan’s cheeks reddened as he relented. Pouty as he was, he couldn’t really argue with his roommates. Walking over, he lifted your legs as he sat down next to her before letting you rest them in his lap. “You didn’t need to announce it,” he whined as Hansol offered him a slice of pizza.

“Anyway,” Seungkwan chuckled, moving to sit beside Soonyoung against the coffee table and facing the three of you. “We haven’t called a council meeting like this since Chan went through his emo phase.” Seungkwan looked over at Chan as he explained.

“You would have an emo phase,” Soonyoung sneered at Chan.

“You probably had one too, dickhead.” Chan countered.

“Yeah, if you count Justin Bieber as emo,” Soonyoung rolled his eyes.

“Soonyoung…” Seungkwan began softly. “That’s… that’s not any better.” Hansol reached over and patted his shoulder as Soonyoung looked away in embarrassment. Everyone laughed lightheartedly at that, even Soonyoung… eventually.

“Okay,” you began, drawing out the last syllable. “Now that we’ve determined that Chan and Soonyoung are both dorks, we can get to the problem at hand.”

“Hey!” Chan and Soonyoung both shouted in offense. 

You sat up and reached for a slice of pizza before you continued. You weren’t particularly sure of how to approach the subject, but you also knew that after five seconds of silence, Seungkwan would begin prodding at you. Maybe it was like ripping off a bandaid?

“I think Wonwoo likes me.”

The silence was deafening. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but silence from everyone, especially Seungkwan, was not it. Hansol, definitely. Chan, maybe, he sometimes liked to think before he responded. Soonyoung, from what you’d come to know, tended to hold off on offering advice until he heard others’ perspectives. Seungkwan, however, was always one to speak whatever was in his mind, to refine his thoughts aloud.

“Did you all hear me? I said–”

“No, we heard you the first time,” Chan said, still staring at you with wide eyes. “Wonwoo? Like 6’0” lead singer of No Name that looks like he wants to beat my ass every 10 minutes, Wonwoo?”

You nodded back. Looking around the room, everyone seemed to be in a similar state of shock. Hansol was resting his chin on a closed fist and his eyes were full of intrigue. Seungkwan had a brow raised quizzingly, and Soonyoung’s mouth was wide open until something settled in his brain and his lips pressed together in a smirk.

“I totally called it,” Soonyoung beamed. “Didn’t I tell you he was singing right at you that one night?” 

You recalled Soonyoung’s words from the first Halloween party you saw Wonwoo at and you nodded. Wonwoo did seem to have his eye on you that time.

“Nope, no, no,” Chan stood up. Here he goes, you thought to yourself. You sat up as well.“Wonwoo doesn’t sing to people, he just sings and then glares from the stage. He glares at everyone.”

Chan also had a point. You’d known Wonwoo to be exceptionally grouchy, and to make no exceptions for who he glares at. Maybe he was glaring at you for dancing with Soonyoung, who he didn’t seem too fond of.

“What makes you think he likes you?” Seungkwan asked curiously.

“I… He wrote a song about me?” you offered sheepishly as Chan’s eyes somehow got wider.

“He what?” Everyone asked in unison.

“I–” you stammered. “Well he never said it was about me, but he did use my line.”

Chan was pacing around the room now. “What was the line he used?”

“Something about the first coffee shop run in autumn.”

Recognition lit up in his eyes as you mentioned the lyric and he paused his movements. “He also used a line from Joshua in that song,” Chan thought aloud. “And I think he had a line about the drums that Mingyu had said about Seungcheol.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. Chan’s words were sobering, and you felt yourself shrink. It was true, you had only met him a handful of times. Why would he write about you? Hansol seemed to sense your deflating mood because he leaned over to wrap an arm around you. You smiled at him in return. 

Upon noticing your mood, Chan let out a sigh. He sat back down beside you and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want him to like you,” he began. “It’s just that… well, Wonwoo’s the most emotionally unavailable guy I know. I’ve never so much as heard him say the word ‘happy’ outside of a song. I just don’t want you to build him up in your head just to get hurt by reality.” He looked at you knowingly.

Seungkwan nodded along. “Chan’s right,” he agreed. “Being in love with the idea of someone is as good as handing your heart over to be broken. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through that again.” 

Again.

You remember that night freshman year that you were supposed to go on a date with a guy named Jeonghan.

Jeonghan had come up to where you and Chan were sitting and having lunch out on the quad. It was a breezy spring morning and you recall the way Jeonghan’s hair blew across his face as he approached the two of you with an easy smile. You gave Chan a ‘do you know this guy?’ look as he shook his head no.

“Hey,” he had said to you, pointedly ignoring Chan. 

“Hey…” you answered politely but cautiously as you looked over at Chan. Chan was eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just wanted to let you know how good you look in this light,” he spoke again with a charming smile and his hand extended out for a handshake. “I’m Jeonghan.” You blushed at him and slipped your hand in his as you introduced yourself. Chan’s eyes sharpened into a dangerous glare when Jeonghan twisted your hand in his and brushed his lips against your knuckles. He coughed and finally drew the stranger’s attention to him. 

“I’m Chan,” he said and reached his hand out, knuckles up, to mock Jeonghan.

Jeonghan, unbothered, simply laughed and nodded his head. His eyes fixed into a cold stare that contrasted his smile. “Hey man.” 

Jeonghan reached over for one of the napkins that sat between you and Chan and pulled out of a pen and wrote down his number. “Text me?” And when you nodded, he walked away, back to his group of friends who jovially patted him on the back at his return.

“That guy is an absolute creep,” Chan breathed out, not bothering to wait for him to be completely out of earshot.

“Chan…” you warned. “He seemed nice, and he was kind of cute.” You pulled out your phone.

“He looks like half the guys on this campus,” Chan rolled his eyes as he looked at the number written on your napkin. “Don’t text him.”

“Too late,” you replied, as you hit send on a message.

Once Hansol and Seungkwan found out about it, they were on Chan’s side. 

Jeonghan had asked you out on a date immediately upon seeing your message and that Friday night, Seungkwan and Chan had come over to your dorm. You were in the middle of getting ready, still trying to settle on an outfit and the two of them were sitting on your twin bed watching you with interest. 

Hansol stood by you at your wardrobe, helping you pick and choose tops for your outfit while Seungkwan deeply sighed.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to not go?” Hansol prodded even as he handed you another piece. You held it against your body to check it in your reflection before shaking your head and handing it back to him.

“Guys,” you pleaded. “I really like him. I don’t see what the issue is.”

You watched Chan scoff and make eye contact with you in the mirror. His bright eyes watching yours carefully. “I can give you a list. Alphabetized even.”

You turned to glare at him. “Bite me, Chan.” Jeonghan had joined you and Chan and Seungkwan for lunch the next afternoon with a fully cooked meal for you and a bouquet of flowers, and you and Chan had been arguing about him since then. Even Seungkwan was skeptical of him and how he seemed to love-bomb you, as he called it, right after meeting you. “It’s nice to be with a guy that’s so direct about how he feels about me.”

“That’s the problem,” Seungkwan spoke up. “Isn’t he a little too interested? The flowers, coming to your classes with breakfast, like that’s nice, but you’ve known him for all of two days. He hasn’t even asked about your major.”

You chewed your lip. You could argue with Chan all day long, but Seungkwan had always been able to get you to see reason, even if you ultimately chose to ignore it. Which you did. There was only 15 minutes left before the time Jeonghan said he’d pick you up, and you decided you were too far in to back out on him now.

“Seungkwan’s right,” Hansol said. “And he’s been a shit texter, hasn’t he?”

“Okay, but not everyone is a good texter,” you argued. You grabbed one last outfit option and walked into the bathroom to change. “Sol, you barely send five words in a single text on a good day.” You walked back out after changing and watched as the three gave you a reluctant thumbs up.

You settled onto your bed and Hansol sat beside you and fussed with the collar of your top. “Shouldn’t that jackass be here soon?” Chan sighed.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He said 7, so five more minutes.”

At 7 p.m., Jeonghan was nowhere to be found.

At 7:15 p.m. he hadn’t answered any of your texts.

At 7:38 p.m. you got a call from Jeonghan. Who butt-dialed you. From the club. With his friends who congratulated him on getting a girl to fall for him in a record-breaking five days.

At 7:45 you were crying into your pillow.

At 8 p.m. Chan said, “A guy who likes you isn’t going to see you as a challenge to be won.”

“Woah woah woah,” Soonyoung chimed in. “How do you know that he’s emotionally unavailable?”

Soonyoung’s voice brought you back to the situation at hand.

You’re not quite sure why you were suddenly feeling defensive. Seungkwan and Chan had only ever looked out for your best interests, especially after that incident with Jeonghan. But when you remember how shy Wonwoo got after he finished playing, and how open he was with you the night before, a part of you desperately wanted them to be wrong.

“Have you met him?” Hansol chuckled. “That man is the definition of ‘if looks could kill.’ He only looks nice when he’s on stage.”

“Well he can’t be all bad if he can write songs that are so… personal” Soonyoung continued to protest. Seungkwan was right to bring him. His presence was refreshing. 

“You somehow manage to be passing psych when you’re an absolute dumbass,” Chan countered. Seungkwan swatted at him and he immediately folded. “Sorry. Instinct. What I meant to say was that Wonwoo holds his cards close to his chest, not necessarily that he doesn’t have feelings.”

“My question still stands,” Soonyoung replied. “How can you write songs like that and be emotionally unavailable?”

Chan looked at him with frustration. “It’s not that hard,” he retorted.

Again, Seungkwan swatted at his arm and shot him a glare. “Show some sympathy, dumbass.”

Chan corrected himself. “I mean I imagine it’s not that hard.”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes before continuing. “No offense dude,” he began as Chan scowled at him. “But you are the biggest loverboy I’ve ever met. It’s pretty obvious which songs you had a hand in writing because they’re so very clearly written by a simp.” 

“First of all, how would you know?” Chan accused. “And second of all… which songs do you think are mine?” he blushed as Soonyoung smirked. He was a lot more perceptive than he let on.

Soonyoung cleared his throat as he began to sing… croak, more like. 

“Oh, show me a map of your soul Every second from now I’m gonna love you completely.”

Soonyoung only stopped when Chan lobbed a pillow at his face, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. That was the song you’d danced with Soonyoung to the first night. 

He was right. 

Chan wrote that song when the four of you were still in high school, around your sophomore year. He was really into one girl… oh, her name slipped your mind now. It was the night of the winter formal and the four of you had spent weeks coming up with the perfect plan for him to confess to her and Chan was more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

“Are you guys sure I have to tell her?” Chan had sweat dripping down his forehead even as you stood on the balcony of the ballroom in the middle of December. He had already pulled his coat off, left only in his white button up and red tie, both of which he’d undone a bit to try to cool himself off.

“Yes!” you and Seungkwan both cried out.

“But what if she hates me after this?”

“Do you know how stupid you sound right now?” Hansol scoffed at him, your breath coming out in puffs in front of you.

“But–”

“No buts, Chan,” Seungkwan chastised. “Just man up and tell her how you feel, she deserves to know.”

“And you both deserve to be happy,” you added. “She’s going to love this.”

Chan, with a nod of determination, reached for his guitar case and shook his fingers out, trying to warm them up. Seungkwan gave you a quick nod and you were thankful to be able to get out of the cold.

You walked back into the ballroom to find the mystery girl already wearing a coat. The dancing was still in full swing and the band that the school had hired was playing some slow jazz standards. Under the glow of the warm lights, you could see your hands regaining color after having to hype your nervous friend up for over 20 minutes in the cold. She smiled when she saw you approach. 

“Headed somewhere?” Hansol had asked her casually.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I couldn’t find Chan, so I thought I’d go out to the balcony for a breather.”

Perfect. You smiled sweetly at her as she raised an eyebrow. She knew something was up, but she was either too nice to say anything, or already knew exactly what Chan was planning. “Oh? I’ll walk you out.”

You and Hansol slipped your arms into hers and you reached for your phone with your other hand, shooting Seungkwan a text, telling him to clear out. He found the three of you just as you reached the french doors. His cheeks were pale with a bright spot of red that stretched across his cheeks and his hair was disheveled from the wind.

“Oh hey,” Seungkwan said casually. He pulled you and Hansol away from the girl as she looked at the two of you with confusion. “Sorry, we just have to, uh, discuss some things. But the balcony’s free.”

“Thanks…” she said skeptically. The three of you watched as she finally walked out of eyesight before Seungkwan grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you upstairs to another balcony. 

“Seungkwan, you suck at bluffing,” you chuckled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Once you were all settled, the three of you headed towards the railing. You could hear Chan’s voice crack as he spoke, “I wrote a song for you.” Seungkwan looked at you curiously as you reached for the tie of your coat and began to wrap it around your phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” Seungkwan whisper-shouted to you. He made no moves to stop you. 

“He’ll want a video of this… and if it blows up in his face, it’ll be great blackmail” you explained matter-of-factly. “Now you two hand me your ties, it’s not long enough.”

With a roll of his eyes, he obeyed and you knotted the two ties together. Hansol chuckled and handed his over without complaint, adding it to the chain. He made sure the phone was secure and hit record before leaning over the balcony to dangle your phone over the edge. The three of you listened in awe as you listened to Chan sing. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard him play the guitar, but it was the first time you’d heard his voice. You didn’t think he had it in him to carry a tune, honestly, but he did surprisingly well. The girl ended up rejecting him, unfortunately, but it didn’t stop Chan from writing songs about whatever girl he fell in love with each month.

Soonyoung’s voice snapped you out of your memories. “Was I right?” he questioned smugly.

Chan blushed and turned away with a huff. “Whatever.”

“See?” Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at you as he continued. “All I’m saying is that maybe that song was about you, and maybe he only knows how to express his feelings through music. I don’t think it’s a reach.” Soonyoung put his hands up in defense as he finished his statement.

“Well look,” Seungkwan conceded. “Soonyoung has a point. Some people are better at expressing themselves in other ways, like some people are acts of service people.” He pointed over at you. “Like how you make sure Chan and Soonyoung always have class notes when they need it.”

He pointed at himself. “Words of affirmation,” he explained. “I like to tell people directly when they mean something to me.” 

Finally at Soonyoung and Hansol. “Quality time.” Soonyoung scoffed as he wondered how Seungkwan read him so easily. Seungkwan focused his attention on Soonyoung as he explained. “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to, but you’re here.”

“Whatever,” Soonyoung mumbled, but his cheeks turned pink anyway. Soonyoung was perceptive, but Seungkwan could read any person and a situation upside down and backwards.

“Well how does that help me?” you asked. “We can speculate about Wonwoo’s feelings all day long… but I’d like to have a concrete answer.”

Seungkwan’s eyes lit up as he devised a plan.

“Chan, what did you say your psych project was again?”

“To spend time with… oh no,” Chan trailed off as he watched the all too familiar mischievous glint in Seungkwan’s eyes. He sat up straighter. “Kwan, don’t include me in your plans.” “What?” Soonyoung asked. “What are you planning?”

“Well, if you and Wonwoo just so happen to do things together, and Soonyoung and Chan just so happen to be there too,” Seungkwan explained with a smug smile. “Then you can have them keep track of whether or not there are signs that Wonwoo’s actually into you.”

Chan groaned as Soonyoung laughed heartily. “That sounds so fun, actually,” Soonyoung said. Seungkwan returned his grin.

“It really doesn’t,” Chan countered. “Why can’t you and Hansol go?” he asked Seungkwan.

“I’m busy working on my own projects,” Hansol shrugged. He kept a neutral expression as he continued. “Seungkwan has his capstone.” If Hansol and Seungkwan were both on board, so was Chan, however reluctant he may be.

“So it has to be you and Soonyoung,” Seungkwan confirmed to Chan. “Plus you guys will keep each other balanced, since Chan is a skeptic and Soonyoung is a believer. And you guys get a good grade on your project.”

“C’mon, jackass,” Soonyoung rolled his eyes at Chan. “It’s only a few more weeks till the end of the semester.”

Usually, you and Seungkwan were the schemers of the group. One of you would come up with a plan, and the other would be ready to make it happen. This time however, you had a weird feeling. Anticipation? Excitement? You didn’t have time to decide, because soon, all eyes were on you.

“What do you think?” Seungkwan asked. You scanned their faces. Soonyoung and Seungkwan looked at you with excitement. Hansol also seemed interested in this plan. Chan, though he tried to hide it, also raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Ah,” you sighed. “What the hell? Why not?”

A/N: first, i am soooo sorry that jeonghan caught strays in this one, lol. originally, i was gonna make him a guy who tried to date you to convince you to join a cult (bc surprisingly, when i was in university, cult recruitment was a big thing?) but decided to make him a jack-ass instead. also the idea of Chan being a "can i sing for u" type of guy is so funny to me and you can't convince me that if he had a little sibling he wouldn't be a protective overbearing little shit.

[twig-tea]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @lurkingshan here and @neuroticbookworm here, thank you both! This really reminds me that I need to do a real pinned post at some point.

If you want to generate your own, you can use this link! I used the link to find the posts but wrote this below because I thought reflecting on the posts would be fun.

My GL rec list (covering everything through to Feb 2024), which I'm very happy about taking first place. If you want GL recs, check that out first, and then feel free to browse my #GL recs tag.

The admittedly shady post from October calling out the director of the Addicted Heroin Thailand adaptation for (a)making weird choices and (b)defending them as artistic. But I stand by my anger about this. Censorship is not an aesthetic!

The non-novel-spoilery reaction post to episodes 1 & 2 of Love In The Big City which was also from October, but which honestly stands up for my reaction to the whole series. What a gift of a show.

A quick pitch for Akaya is in Love with Hiroko from July. This one hurts! I was so ready to cheerlead for this show and did several times, but the penultimate episode made me wary and the finale really upset me, to the point where I didn't end up writing about the finale, so I'll take the chance here: Don't make a show about two self-aware lesbians, one who has been comfortably sexually active for years and one who is super horny for her, and have them get together as adults and yet be celibate for a year out of "respect". Is the message that sex between consenting and enthusiastic adults is not respectful?! GTFO. For the record I can be respected with orgasms, thank you.

The episode celebrating the messaging in the finale of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo from November. Glad that this is here between the previous entry and the next two, because this is a good balm for the pain. LFtCoT landed the ending and gave us all a giant hug while doing it!

The list of things I was thinking about at the end of Wandee Goodday ep3 from May. Another disappointment for me. The things this post shouts out are still things I like about this show, and reading it again is a reminder of where the back half let the first half down (not taking seriously some of the things we were told to take seriously in the first few episodes).

An early post about Love Is Better the Second Time Around from March. Another show that did not land everything, in this case because it felt like it tried to shove in a complicated conflict in the last two episodes that they didn't have time to handle. But I still love those early episodes and all of the interplay between Miyata, Iwanaga, and Shiraishi.

My clown theory for Every You, Every Me also from October, which ended up being correct! I've never been more happy to be right, I liked this reveal for the show so much.

In February I wrote this thesis about the state of Thai BL looking at data from 2022 and 2023, which I have been meaning to go back and update since I think Shan as usual was feeling the start of the wave and we needed more data to see the change actually play out in 2024. I now no longer feel (as I did in this post) that things haven't changed, I do think they have this year. But I need to crunch the numbers again to prove it to myself (and everyone else) though. Stay tuned!

In July I did a round-up post about the various theories surrounding Century of Love, and whether Vee and Vad were the same person. Turns out San did wrestle with this as I'd hoped but the show itself felt like it lost steam and copped out around this, unfortunately. At least we'll always have fox demon Offroad and grumpy old man Daou's collarbones thanks to this show.

Special shout-out to @lurkingshan because two of the posts above are answers to asks she put in my inbox that spawned project posts. Shan knows what the people want to hear!

Tagging @italianpersonwithashippersheart @benkaben @ellsieee @colourme-feral @pigglepiephi @impala124 no pressure tags and apologies if you've been tagged already!

[highfiveheroes]

the only thought on the episode i will say tonight is this: i’m really disappointed that i’m supposed to be rooting for a set of bullies.

say what you will about the bad kids, they’ve been nasty this season, with a few standouts here and there—notably fabian, who has gone out of his way to make amends and friendships with people outside of the bad kids. but hearing the way they talk about other characters? the way adaine and kristen and gorgug were straight up bullying the rat grinders in a lot of situations? not saying the rat grinders weren’t being antagonistic in their own right, and i fully understand this is a comedy show of people sitting around a table making jokes and rolling dice. but compared to how much connection i had with the bad kids in say, season one or two, when they were going out of their way to be nice to people more often than they were being straight up rude and egging people on…

idk man. something about the bad kids this season isn’t sitting right with me anymore. and i’m sad.

[jq37]

Descendants: The Rise of Red is kind of a bizarre movie to talk about critically because, imo, it almost doesn't make sense to talk about it in the usual terms of good vs bad or enjoyable vs not enjoyable when the way more obvious tension is finished vs unfinished.

Because, more than any other movie I've ever seen, it does *not* read as a full movie. And I don't mean in a "this movie has a cliffhanger" kind of way. The Empire Strikes Back and Across the Spiderverse fit that description. They end on big dramatic cliffhangers that point to a resolution in the third installment.

But Rise of Red just sets all this stuff up and then...ends without concluding anything. It doesn't feel like the first movie in a trilogy (or duology). It feels like the first act of a two-act musical. It very specifically reminds me of the end of the first act of Into the Woods where all the main characters sing the song Ever After about how they all fixed their problems with magic and nothing bad will ever happen to them again and then the narrator ominously says "To be continued" before the curtain drops. But in Into the Woods you know there's a second act and this movie wasn't sold as the first act of a bigger story. Like sure, it has the, "You didn't think this was the end" tag at the end like all the other movies, but those movies were complete, self-contained stories even though they had sequels. This was NOT a full story. It's half of one story.

Like, if we're supposed to take this as a full story, there are so many bizarre choices:

Why did they make sure to mention that Cinderella and Charming fell in love at the ball at the top if it wasn't meant to set up Back to the Future style, "Oh no, I accidentally got my mom banned from the ball so she's not gonna fall in love with Dad and I won't be born" shenanigans?

Why did Maddox very pointedly have that bit about "you could lose your mom completely" if that was never going to come into play? Red never did anything to endanger Bridget or endanger her own birth so it doesn't make sense as a warning in that way.

Why was there all this focus on this Carrie on prom night moment for Bridget if we LITERALLY NEVER SAW CASTLECOMING? Why dance around this moment and talk about it all cloak and dagger with no specificity if they weren't building up to some big reveal that it wasn't as straightforward as it seemed? And like, they leaned in HARD with making Bridget the nicest, sweetest, cotton candy princess as a teen so I need WAY more than, "She got pranked by known bullies she's been enduring with a smile very handily up to this point" to buy that she went from that to "murderous dictator". And even if she did become murderous, I find it insanely hard to believe that she'd include her best and only friend on the list of people she wants to suffer unless there was a betrayal. I find it INSANE that there wasn't a falling out scene at any point in this movie with how thickly they were laying on the admiration and camaraderie.

(Note: And adult Cinderella def has guilty vibes re: the Queen at orientation. Which I know I'm not imagining because it's literally spelled out in the Jr Novelization!)

Before the time travel element of the movie started, I thought they were going for something like they go to the past and realize that Bridget was bullied not by the VKs but by the spoiled royals, and Ella ends up joining in the bullying once she gets with Charming, betraying Bridget and justifying her whole "Love Ain't It" philosophy. Or Ella ditching her at the last minute to be with Charming meaning she has to deal with the monster prank alone and it was the being alone rather than the prank itself that hurt her (though that is NOT a good enough reason to go all off with their heads on your subjects). The fact that, as far as we know right now, it literally was just a relatively mild and reversible prank that caused all of this is just, such flat storytelling, you know?

But! All of this makes way more sense if this is meant to be the first act of a single contained story. And I don't wanna be all "Pepe Silvia, secret good 4th episode of Sherlock" about this but I did see this picture:

Which seems to indicate that this was written as a Part One. Which, if so, idk why they wouldn't advertise it that way but whatever. The point is, if that's the case then it means that we're potentially in bad pacing territory rather than straight up bad storytelling territory. Because this isn't a bad place to be halfway through your story:

The heroes, warned that time travel is dangerous, have gone back in time to change the heart of a brutal tyrant before she can stage a coup. They seemingly succeed in their mission and when they come home, everything is great! But then, the side effects of time travel start to catch up with them. Chloe realizes that, in breaking the vase, she prevented her mother from going to the ball and falling in love with her dad (who was conspicuously absent from the final scene btw) which means she's starting to be forgotten and erased from the timeline. And Red realizes that though this new version of her mom is as sweet and kind as the teen she once met, she's a complete stranger to her (fulfilling the Hatter's warning that she could lose her mom completely). So they have to go back in time once more to make sure the Ella and Charming fall in love again, perhaps at the cost of whatever bad thing that happened to Bridget happening again and bringing back the original version of her future self. But, now with more context of how her mom became that way, Red can now talk to her mother and persuade her to give people another chance.

Boom, that gives us time to go back and hit everything we haven't yet hit. We can pay off the time travel tropes that were set up but not explored. We can go to Castlecoming which feels so obviously set up to be the centerpiece of this story (like, come on, Back to the Future literally does the school dance thing. This is Time Travel Storytelling 101). We can actually get info about what the prank was and why it affected Bridget so completely.

(Note: This is a side thing but it really strikes me as so crazy that Bridget would so SUCH a big 180 here. Like, I know the Queen of Hearts is a silly, goofy, campy villain, but she straight up murders people and there's no way to get around that if we're taking her out of the surreal story she comes from and putting her in a (comparatively) grounded story. If I wasn't doing a betrayal plot, I would make the twist that the spell that turned Bridget into a "monster" didn't just have a physical effect, it had a mental effect and it magically twisted her personality to be the way it is now. So they broke the physical half of the curse, but neglected the other half and it's been festering the whole time, turning her as evil as she was sweet. Because like, a simple physical transformation isn't that big of a deal to have such heavy security--Bridget made cupcakes with a transformative effect and that was totally fine. I'm not saying that that's what's gonna be the case. I just think it would be an explanation that makes sense for why she changed so crazy much that makes more sense than a simple prank or even a betrayal. Her mom wasn't even evil! How did she go from zero to murder without even an evil mom to push her onto the path? But I'm super digressing right now.)

(Note #2: OK, one last thing. The trap on the book presumably would have hit the VK's and trapped them in Merlin's office regardless of what Chloe and Red did, right? That's like, net zero influence on the timeline. I genuinely can't tell if that's a straight up plot hole or set up to be like, "Oh no. Actually when she said that she was turned into a monster in front of everyone it was meant in a less literal way." Like she was just made to look bad and that was the real thing that pushed her over the edge. Like idk. It really feels like the only thing they really did that would change the timeline was get Ella banned from the dance and presumably out of the way where she couldn't hurt Bridget. OK NOW I'm done.)

Anyway, my point is that this is not how I would have structured my movie and I think this was a super weird way to go into the second era of Descendants movies, but they can still tell a complete story if that's their plan. I'm genuinely really curious to see if this pans out to be a fairly competently told story that just happens to be split over two movies or a complete fumbling of the narrative bag because it could really be either at this point and it's fascinating to me.

[kira-light0]

The prettiest princess

[genderqueerpond]

also I Do think we're getting season whatever-this-is backwards

[phagodyke]

woke up feeling ruffff but took my meds and went back to bed for a while n I feel a bit better

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ Do You Think We'll Be In Love Forever? ㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!DC Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 ♡ ｡ ゜

​𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

He's mesmerized by the sight of you between his arms. Definite little doll smiling up at him through tear-soaked eyes. He floods your essence with saccharine kisses, sweet vows, and anguished 'I love yous' all paying testimony to his sugar-laced obsession. He's desperate to taste your sweetness on his tongue, lick through your flesh like a lollipop, and unravel your bones with his teeth.

He had been so young once, chasing virtue and strength into every dark alleyway, following bats and hope into vicious nights. Back then, he hadn't understood his mentor's desperation for paper-thin kisses and phony love. But now feeling the push of your body beneath his fingertips makes him understand how satisfying real love can be. To observe you in the sun's gentle rays. To feel your body curled next to his on cold nights. He plays hero under the moon's watchful gaze only to return home to you upon daybreak.

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب قرمز - جیسون تاد

He glides your fingers across his scars, shuddering under the weight of your touch. Stardust cauterizes ancient wounds, licking away the rotten grime. Jason clenches his teeth, there's something so intimidating about the softness of your touch. It stings worse than any crowbar or bullet wound, intruding, harrowing. It's almost like you're plucking the constellations of his past from under his skin, trying to rearrange the stars into something cathartic.

He can't help the hapless way his nails scratch across your bones, the gurgling laugh that escapes his throat. You're Elizabeth Lavenza and Ophelia trying to mend a broken boy, with your wry smile and terrified eyes. Jason traces his lips across yours, his kiss is ravenous, frantic. Faux-hero desperate for an inkling of love, of bliss, of softness.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

He likes to think he's shed his human skin long ago. Left it to die in that burning warehouse with his old mask and youth. But when he hears your laughter, that haunting echo reverberates off the edifice walls. He can't help but think maybe, just maybe a trace of humanity still lingers beneath his armor. Your smile glares at him in every carmine puddle he treks through. He dreams it's your blood marring his gauntlets, syrupy sweet as he licks them clean. Daydreams about your ethereal face painted in reds and purples by his iron-clad hands.

His kisses are razor blades cutting through your lips, forcing his love down your throat, and watching as you choke on the rust and ache. He's trying to merge two bodies into one void, to engulf you. Mirror his scars upon your flesh with dull knives and jagged fingernails. He kisses you again, you swear you're going to drown in his sea of red. Maybe that's all the love he has left. He

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

He plays hero in the night, little bird chasing villains and evil by moonlight. When he blinks it's you he sees lying on the couch watching TV. He's starting to think you're his favorite show, afterall your window is about the size of a flat-screen TV and he's always too eager to peak through for the next screening. Episode 84, you're hugging your favorite teddy bear, lost in euphoria as your knuckles turn white around the controller. Tim watches heart in his throat as you claw out the boss's eyes. Sanctimonious champion vying to save the holy princess.

Tim bites his fingers, addresses each tooth mark to you. He pens his love letters upon his own skin, sealing them in red when he finally punctures through. Maybe life is just a video game, an endless kaleidoscope of cutscenes. And he's just a besotted hero dying to kiss the precious princess who doesn't even know he exists.

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

His heritage pounds between his bones. The deja vu of an ancestral lifetime runs rapid through his veins as he chases you across the rooftops. His father, his mother, his brothers, always chasing, running after things they know they'll never reach. Your blades clash against his and Damian can't help but wonder if this is the closest he'll ever get to kissing you.

You leave him with paper cuts that feel like venom, like saying 'I love you' while chewing on his bones. He ponders, does his father have the same scars, if Damian pulled away Bruce's skin what would he find? Kittycat claws and dragon bites engraved in the nth-wielded ivory. He feels legacy clawing at his throat as he pictures your fingers between his teeth. Tears blooming in your eyes as he uses diamonds and ceremonial knives to engrave his name upon your flesh. Dotting the I with a heart and entwining each letter. God, he's so tired of being lonely...

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

He can't help but pick you apart, chip away at the bones and flesh until he reaches your essence. Dissecting your heart with his tongue and savoring the ichor between his teeth. He's the world's greatest detective and yet he can't unravel his own ardor. This mania, this addiction festering within his crux gnawing at his sanity until every thought is consumed by the cadence of your voice and the stars scintillating in your big doe eyes. This desperate need burning inside of him are you really divinity? Will you bleed glod, if he tears you apart with his teeth?

You're so ethereal squirming beneath, kicking and screaming vying desperately for freedom. He's fought this love for far too long, tried to preserve you in the light. Cover your eyes and ears and make you forget about the monsters that roam in the dark. But he can't not anymore, maybe he never could. Maybe the only way he knows how to love is by trickling his darkness like nectar between your lips and watching as it paints you in his shades.

ᯓ★ Superman - Clark Kent | سوپرمن - کلارک کنت

His kisses melt into your skin sweet like molten sugar drizzled on jasmine rice. Like lava smothering roses, leaving a trail of fragranced ashes. Clark smiles and he notices how you cover your eyes. Like you're staring directly into the sun. Like you're scared of being burnt. Clark can't help but bury his head in the crock of your neck, inhaling your ather. Molten roses and floral ashes he likes the amalgamate of your scents. Like how his presence lingers upon you.

He holds you like a doll, like the little straw dolls his mother used to make. It's easy to be gentle, coddling when everything is so fragile compared to you. He kisses down your neck, your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your soft skin, trying to earn a giggle a gold star. Trying to wipe the fear from your eyes. He kisses you again, mumbling cloying words between your lips, wishing he could just push his love between your fragile bones.

˚✶˚ Superboy - Conner Kent | سوپربوی - کانر کنت

He's fighting back the urge to peel your heart from between your ribs. To trail kisses across it and marr his lips with your ether. He wonders if your heart beats as frantically as his. He wonders if your ribs rattle when he enters a room.

He wants to push little superboy earings into your ears, to lay upon you the piercings he could never have. It'll be his way of telling the world you belong to him, that you belong to Superboy. And yet he settles for draping his leather jacket across your shoulders when senses a shiver run up your spine. He settles for the friendly hugs and airy hello-kisses. He wants to say he's he loves you. he can't. It's all so annoying, tasting the dead words on his tongue.

𓂃✮ Superman - Jon Kent | سوپرمن - جان کنت

He's scaping his nails along the Hershey's kisses re-aligning the red blue and gold wrapping. It'll be obvious, right? If he leaves them in your locker you'll understand the colored metaphor you'll answer the question he can never ask. You'll know it's him, everyone always does, for the byproduct of the world's greatest hero, he's terrible at keeping his identity a secret.

He blames it on the legacy flooding his lungs. On the promises that beat in his blood. He's born to be a hero, to play the role of savior, but aren't heroes promised love too? Aren't they meant to save the girl from burning skyscrapers and crumbling sidewalks, to fly above the skyline and kiss her in tune with the setting sun? He's so desperate for the sweet fairytale ending, so desperate to kiss the girl who always knows just what to say. He leaves the chocolate in your locker before making a dent in the metal door.

˚｡⋆🪙⋆ ˚｡ Two Face - Harvey Dent | دو چهره - هاروی دنت

He can taste your pain on his tongue, swallow the barbed wire, and relish in the familiar sting of hope, expectation, responsibility. Maybe that's why he can't stop himself from chasing after you. Burning the world demanding you stop him, desperate for a silver of your deficit attention. God, you're so ethereal with his gun aimed at your head, his pretty little girl with big starry eyes laced with dread as they follow the cascade of his coin. 'I know' he wants to scream 'I know what it feels like' but the words never quite spill out that way. And Harv only laughs at his foolish attempts to play hero once more. Sanctimonious bastard, the words reverberate in his skull.

You may claim to be a hero but Two-face knows you'll fall, plunder to the ground like all the rest, that's what happens when you reach for the sky, deem yourself Icarus, and let the flames of glory engulf you until there's nothing left. 'You can't save them' Harv screams only for Harvey to hear. They want to get closer, to slip the coin between your lips and make you taste defeat, maybe then you'll understand why he's so keen on fighting you out of your crusade. Maybe then you'll take their hand willingly, letting them sprinkle kisses across your knuckles like dying stars.

˙⋆☠︎︎⋆˙ Black Mask - Roman Sionis | نقاب سیاه - رومن سیونیس

He wants to cut out your big heart and sink his teeth into it, engrave himself in every vein, and chew on the heartstrings. HIM he needs to be the only one in that plushie heart of yours. The only one with the right to be graced by your ethereal smile. He wants to awaken to your soft nimble fingers tracing hearts and stars across his chest. Pretty pink lips weaving feathery kisses across the scar of his pacemaker. Giggles tickling his neck as you bid him 'good morning' in that all too cheery voice of yours.

Roman almost moans as he hears his name spill from your mouth, each letter cradled carefully between your lips he can't help but want to push his thumb inside your mouth, to feel your purity and shock. There's so much he wants to call you so much he wants to whisper in your ear as he watches your cheeks glow red. To hold you in his lap and trail his fingers across your legs, to dress you in pretty dresses and short skirts and skin-tight tops. To taste the fear and dread on your tongue palpable like the blood he draws with every kiss.

༄✩༄ Scarecrow - Jonathan Crane | مترسک - جاناتان کرین

He likes the stars in your eyes, the mini constellations spelling out your greatest fears. The tears blooming in the corners of your dopey eyes have his lips twitching. You're so gorgeous like this, curled up on the floor trying to make sense of such an eerie world. Jonathan doesn't anoint himself a fool, he knows it's chimeric to think that you'd love him without the toxin, without the heavy drugs he's spilled into your veins. That's why he keeps you like this, scared and depressed. Always in need of him.

What's your greatest fear? He wonders when you tuck your head between your knees and sob all so quietly as to not disturb him. Is it him you see in your grandest nightmares? Is it the mask jumping at you from within the darkness, or is it Professor Crane abandoning you in such a macabre world? Mask on mask off it makes no difference. He just hopes he's the star of every nightmare, as long as you fear him as much as he fears losing you.

｡??｡ Riddler- Edward Nygma| ریدل - ادوارد نیگما

It's frivolous to think he will not solve this riddle. That he will no unearth this plague you have bestowed upon him. This fixation, this obsession, he needs to understand you, to peel away your skin and glimpse at your inner clock workings. To undo your screws one by one and find out what exists between that haunting laugh and those knowing vicious eyes. To rip apart your wires, and feed upon your mind. To understand, he needs to understand you.

He got close once when he had your neck under his shoe, but the evil lith of your laughter rings across the room and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't unnerved. He doesn't know what question to ask first. 'what have you done to me'? 'why do you think you're better than me?', 'Why don't you love me?' Instead, the silence shatters with your voice, proud melody rivaling his own, your eyes lock on him and he can't suppress his shutter. "Well Eddie, riddle me this. What can kill any man, but isn't even alive itself?"

⁺♡⁺ Deathstroke - Slade Wilson | مرگ سکته - اسلید ویلسون

You're like a shooting star, dancing across the night as you stalk his latest kill. Little asssasin, you know your stuff but he finds your thirst for ineage and morality both exhausting and honorable. Most people grow up and spit out their morals with blood and broken teeth. Let the world's cruel realities claw and gnaw at their skin until it's hardened enough to survive. He's yet to see you extend such a courtesy to the world, makes him think that pulling the trigger on you would be some sort of mercy. Bullet through the heart leaving your body coated in his essence and one final kiss pressed onto your paling lips.

He dosen't notice the inkling of you rattling around in his brain until he realizes that this is the eighth him he's seen you smile at the end of his barrel. Pretty little girl chasing after morals and sand, hoping to escape the endless night by spilling just a little more guilty blood. You look like some sort of ethereal doll, immortal in your innocence and vicious in your virtues. He can respect that, truly but Slade isn't naive enough to think you have what it takes to survive. Maybe that's why he wants all so badly to feed you his victim's hearts and eyes and livers, to push them past your pretty lips, staining them the deepest red. Watching your delicate throat constrict as you swallow everything he gives you. Reveling in the sensation of your greedy little tongue swirling around his fingers licking up the access gore. Can almost picture your smile and stupid little head tilt as you thank him for the 'candygrams'.

⭑.ᐟ Respawn | احیا

Respawn drowns in his love. Pulling apart his heart to lay at your feet. It's all he's ever known, broken boy built to harvest spare parts. But you don't look at him like that, you don't even look at him like an assassin. No, you smile fondly as you nuzzle his neck with your nose. You look at him the way his father used to, like he's actually worth something more. He's never quite kissed you, he's not even sure he knows how. Instead, he holds you close to his chest making sure you hear the dull patter of his jagged heart.

He's born from greatness, left to rot in the dark. He refuses to play pawn, anymore. So maybe that's why, when he finally kisses you -with all the grace of a schoolboy's first kiss- it's so desperate and erratic, clumsily licking your lips and nicking his tongue along your teeth trying to think what his father would do. His fingers dig into your arms, preassing prayers into your flesh, screaming 'Don't leave me, you're all I have left'.

⭑☽ Ghost-Maker - Minhkhoa "Khoa" Khan | روح ساز - مینه خوا "خوا" خان

There's nostalgia in your essence, in your presence, something he can never wash away. He's grown addicted to the erratic reverbate of your pulse between his teeth. Kissing the bites he leaves marring your perfect body.

Why can't you just love him, let him haunt your every thought, and erode those pesky creeds, until he is the only thing you'll ever need? Khoa hates to admit it but he sees something in you, something so reflective of the little boy laying in the sand of the gobi desert, shooting phantom bullets and mocking stars. You scream every time he kisses you, recoil your tongue, and cry at the bitterness sweeping in. But Khao loves the challenge, the fight, loves forcing you into submission, even as your knife digs between his ribs. He's only ever content when your pith floods his mouth and your melodic voice rings through his ears. His precious little princess tucked away between his arms forever.

☾⋆ Phantom-one | روح یک

he never shows you his face. He blames it on his upbringing too used to old rules that he can never escape their clutches not even for you. His kisses are always clouds dancing across your skin, so light and airy they may as well be the wind. But tries to leave traces of himself with every kiss. Desperate pleas for you to look at him, to touch him, to love him back. All so he knows he's alive, still real enough to love.

He's always trapped between the land of the living and the realm of the deceased. Always so gentle with the love he's stolen, so careful to not break his lover, as his mentor did to him. He laces his fingers through your hair, sucks gently on the length of your neck, all while pushing 'I love yous' into your soul, marking you as his forever.

🎀𖹭🎀 : @your-yandere-kiss @fancyfeathers @yandere-writer-momo @nxdxsworld @lilyalone @neverano @natsukicookies @googeecat44 @starrydollita @mune-writes @a4g3lstarfire @yourhornysister @froggy-voidd @rissareader @6helpneeded9

@blacklunardice @princesstrunkz @mona1704 @testification

[nanaslutt]

Thinking about inexperienced Choso accidentally doing the knee thing during a makeout sesh

ʚ cont: afab reader, making out, dry humping, sexual tension, dirty talk, teasing, first time orgasming (Choso), cumming untouched, cumming in pants (Choso and reader)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You lay back against Choso's hard chest, his head on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso as you lay on your bed together, catching up on some show the two of you have been watching. After watching about 4 or 5 consecutive episodes, the familiar "Are you still watching?" question showed on the screen, making you sigh.

"Whoever created this idea sucks, of course I'm still watching." You mumbled under your breath, beginning to lean your body off of Choso's to reach for the remote. Little did you know, Choso had been aching to kiss you all day. He knew the two of you usually ended up sharing kisses when you were alone like this, and each time it happened only increased his neediness for the next time you were together as he began to expect it as he did now.

Choso kept his arms tightly wrapped around your torso, preventing you from leaning forward. You were jolted back against his chest, your eyes going wide when you realized you were stuck. A smile grew on your face when Choso plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he blushed furiously, hoping you would catch on to what he wanted so he didn't have to say it.

You turned your head to face him and cupped his neck with your warm hand, pressing his face against you. "Cho, how am I meant to move when you hold onto me so tightly, huh?" You teased, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Choso's eyebrows furrowed against your skin when he felt the familiar touch of your lips on him. He tentatively raised his head and looked into your eyes, his cheeks already a deep crimson red, eyebrows furrowed in a desperate look.

You kept your hand on his warm neck, feeling his pulse race under your fingertips. You smiled and licked your lips, staring back and forth between his eyes. Choso's breath was already picking up as the tension began to grow between the two of you. Choso swallowed hard as he looked between your eyes and your plush lips, looking like they were begging to be kissed. 

You leaned in ever so slightly, lips grazing against his, your body feeling hot when his arms tightened around your body as you did so. "Tell me what you want Choso." You whispered, your hot breath tickling his lips. Choso's lips were parted slightly expectantly, his breathing now more audible. "I wanna kiss." He replied, his fingers curling into your shirt that covered your stomach. 

You bit your lip, your nose tapping against his as you continued to tease him. "Yeah? You wanna kiss me?" You whispered, turning your head to the side as you readied yourself. Choso's eyes fluttered softly as he nodded, his eyelids already feeling heavy even without touching you. Choso let out a noise of surprise when you pressed your lips against his. His thighs twitched ever so slightly with the need to press his legs together, but you were between them, so he couldn't.

Choso felt his brain turn to mush as you massaged your lips against his, soft barely there sounds getting caught in your throat making him go crazy. Choso never broke the connection even when he released your body in his arms and slowly slid out from behind you, maneuvering your body so you were against the pillows he was just laying against. They were warm with his body heat, feeling welcoming as Choso placed himself between your thighs, on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell heavily as he dragged his large hands up and down your body, your shirt riding up as he played with your sides, touching you everywhere he could. Choso loved kissing, the sensation of his lips intertwining against yours combined with the feel of your body and the sounds you made when you kissed him took over his brain completely, trampling over and pushing out any and all other thoughts.

You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctually, making Choso whine at how good your body felt against him. His hands itched with the need to touch you higher up each time he caressed your torso. Your chest rose and fell heavily against him, your back slightly arching off the bed each time he overpowered his tongue with yours, making you feel dizzy.

Choso was a bit shy when it came to intimate activities, up until he was actively participating in them, then his instincts took over and he became more confident. You and Choso had been dating for a few months and had never gone past heavy petting and kissing, but you would be lying if you said your body didnt ache to go further with him.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and slowly slid them around to his back, grabbing the nape of his neck with one hand while your other disappeared under the collar of the back of his shirt. Choso's eyes rolled back in his sockets at the touch, even though his eyes were closed. He felt that same familiar ache build itself up deep in his stomach, and the position he was in was giving him no relief.

His pelvis was close to being pressed against yours, but it wasn't, leaving his unknowingly throbbing cock to twitch against the confines of his boxers with little to no friction. You lightly raked your nails over the skin of his back, feeling his hard muscles under your hands as the kiss increased in fervor, getting more intense. 

Choso took it upon himself to adjust his position a bit, sliding one of his legs to the side a bit so his pelvis was against the bed and the underside of your thigh. You smiled against Choso's lips, feeling how needy his tongue was getting against yours. You were caught off guard when you felt a strong thigh press firmly against your cunt, making your lips separate from his in an embarrassingly loud whine. 

Choso stopped kissing you to look at your expression, worried he might've hurt you. With furrowed eyebrows and a fucked out expression, you reached both hands between your bodies and pressed them agaisnt his thigh, trying to ignore how hard you were throbbing against his leg. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" Choso gasped, not yet realizing what had happened. 

"Choso, your knee." You whined out breathlessly, pressing against his thigh again, silently begging for him to let up before you lost control. You were already holding back enough. Choso's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked between your bodies to see his thigh tightly against your cunt, and your hands pressing above where you were connected. 

Choso immediately pulled his leg back and apologized, slotting his leg back to its original position. You saw the muscles in his jaw bulge out under the weight of his teeth as he looked away in embarrassment, worried he had ruined the mood. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.. touch you there." Choso apologized, darting his eyes back over to yours every so often.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him against your shoulder, forcing his head to be buried in the crook of your neck. This abrupt action surprised Choso, he placed his hands on your hips and waited for you to speak, focusing on how loud your heart was beating against him. "No, it's okay. It.. it felt good." You whispered, turning your head against his ear, your lips grazing his skin.

Choso felt that same familiar heat build-up in his tummy again at your confession, it was getting unbearable. This is usually where the two of you stopped when he felt a little too worked up for his own good. But this time, he didn't want to stop, he wanted to see where this would go. "It felt... good?" He questioned, staring at the bedsheets in front of him as he lay on your shoulder.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear that sent a shiver down his spine. "You can put it back if you want." You suggested, making Choso shut his eyes and take a deep breath. He didn't know much about pleasuring others or even himself, but he knew the type of "good" you were talking about was much like the one he felt when he pressed his crotch against the sheets, or your leg when you kissed.

Choso pulled his head up from your shoulder and brought his face agaisnt yours, a hair length away from your lips. You grabbed his face and looked into his eyes for a moment before you pulled him against you by his cheeks, forcing your lips together in a kiss. The kiss was just as needy and hasty as before as the two of you opened your mouth against one another in a sloppy makeout. 

Choso swallowed hard before he started moving his leg again, trying to remember the position he had it in. When you felt his thick thigh press against your throbbing clit again, you gasped into his mouth, a sound he eagerly swallowed up, his face growing redder at the sound.

You felt dizzy as your back arched against him, your hands once again wrapping around his neck for support. You squeezed your legs around his thigh and relished in the feeling of your clit getting stimulated from the pressure alone. Choso could feel he felt something twitch against his leg, but he had no idea what it could be, all he knew was that it made his own problem feel ten times worse.

Choso started kissing you more intensely, his own cock being stimulated against the sheet and the underside of your leg once more. You whimpered into his mouth, your hips twitching agaisnt him, ever so slightly rubbing your cunt against his leg. "This feels really good." Choso gasped into your mouth, feeling the heat in his tummy boil up within him.

You nodded, making a sound of agreement into his mouth. You felt like you were seconds away from cumming, you couldn't believe how aroused you were. Your whole body burned with pleasure and arousal as you sloppily kissed into Choso's mouth, the kiss being more tongue and teeth than anything.

You felt that familiar pressure build up in your abdomen, making your thighs twitch and your body curl against him. Choso increases the pace of his kissing, his lips now moving jerkily and unceremoniously against your thigh. "Choso-" You whined against his lips, both of you now panting and whining into the other's mouth. Choso felt like something was going to happen, and he didn't want to stop, he needed to feel whatever this was leading to.

His fingers dug into your hips as his lips started parting against yours, as did your own against his. Both of your moans and pants grew silent as you gasped against the other's mouth. It was only still for a moment before the two of you came crashing down. Your body shook with pleasure as you came in your panties, your abdomen curling in against Choso and twitching as you orgasmed on his thigh.

Choso's head fell into the crook of your neck as he came, hot spurts of cum being released into his pants. With each rope of cum he released, his hips would cant involuntarily against your own. Choso groaned and gasped against you, his head going numb as sheer, white pleasure wracked through his entire body and overwhelmed all of his senses. 

The two of you gasped and whined heavily as you came down from your highs, fighting to catch your breath and recover. Your bodies were limp against each other, but you still held each other tight, not wanting to separate just yet. "That felt so... so good," Choso whined into your neck, a shiver wracking down his spine. You nodded against his shoulder, raking your hands through his messy hair. "Uh-huh...so good." You replied, equally as fucked out as you nodded dumbly, breathing heavily with Choso's full weight resting against your body.

[madaqueue]

EPISODE 3: A TASTE OF HONEY IN DEFEAT

satoru thought he would have no problem winning a bet he proposed, but a month is too long to go without a taste of anything this sweet.

themes/content: smut. edging, handjobs, mean-ish dom!reader, satoru being whiney lmao, premature ejaculation + he cums inside, light bondage (satoru receiving). (wk: 2.1k)

a/n: this is part of @luv-lies no-nut-november collab!!! so excited to have been a part of this, hope you all enjoy >:3

“You know I trust you, but don’t you think the ropes are a bit much?” Satoru giggles as you tighten the final knot around his wrists, shoulders bulging and arms stretched overhead.

“I know you trust me - it’s you I’m worried about, ‘Toru.”

“What, worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?” The smirk painting his features veers into a grimace as he winces, straining against the tightening rope.

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself.”

Pink lips draw into a pout. “Aw c’mon, you know I’ll be good! I’m the one who made this bet in the first place, remember?”

You hum as you tug his hands down, testing the strength of the woven cerulean adorning his skin. The headboard shakes with the movement.

“And yet, you were so willing to break the rules.”

It had been quite a sight, truly - your dear Satoru, splayed across the bed, whimpers and moans falling from his lips like honeyed rain. They landed heavy in your ears, sticky and sweet. When the door creaked open, he made no effort to stop the fervent motions of his fist up and down his cock. He was flushed from head to toe, too lost in his own pleasure to recognize the sound of your footsteps approaching. It was only when your hand rested atop his that he jerked up, clouded eyes turning apologetic.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, I know, I just couldn’t wait-” he had babbled.

“It’s okay,” you purred, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But you knew the deal, remember? I’m the only one allowed to touch you this month, right, Satoru?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“And how close you were to cumming, too.”

“I wasn’t going to, I swear-”

You hummed and squeezed his base, earning a gasp. “You know it’s not good to lie, either. Remember, you made this bet, sweetheart. Were you really so willing to throw it all away? To lose?”

“I wasn’t going to lose, I promise, I just needed something-”

He was getting worked up, panicked thoughts racing through his mind. He braced on his forearms to sit up, but with a purposeful push you guided him back onto the sheets.

“It’s okay, my love. If my poor baby is so needy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you something.”

His eyes widened when you pulled the ropes from under the bed, eyeing him like your next meal, a starving predator ready to pounce. And here was your prey, so ready for the taking, offering himself to you as a good piece of meat should.

And now, he’s tied up like one, too.

“I wasn’t even going to break the rules,” he whines impatiently.

Sitting back, you admire your work: your strong, determined Satoru spread and waiting. Trailing a finger down his stomach, his skin burns hot in its wake.

“That’s certainly not what it looked like to me.”

“I-”

“Because to me, it looked like you couldn’t handle going even a month without touching this needy little cock of yours.”

He pouts. “I’m not little,” he huffs.

A giggle bubbles from the back of your throat, bouncing past your lips.

“And besides, I can handle it, I swear! I made it almost the whole month, I did, I just-”

Tilting your head, you gaze down at him. “What, got too desperate? Poor Satoru, ‘The Strongest,’ couldn’t even follow the rules of a bet he made?”

Blue flashes against white as he rolls his eyes. One hand ruffles his hair, cooing down at him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you beg to break this silly little bet of yours.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, hiding the way pink creeps up his neck and decorates his cheeks, stained like flower petals. He’s soft like them, too.

A light chuckle lands in the air when your palm grazes up his length. He twitches in your hold, warm skin on warm skin.

“H-hah, see?” His mouth hangs open between the words. “Told you I could handle it.”

It’s gentle touches at first, to ease him into it: slow strokes, light fingers. And yet, he’s still wrapping his throat around whimpers.

“Aw baby, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Your lips curl into a smile, breath hot behind them. The words come out syrupy, dripping in sugar (and Satoru has always had a sweet tooth). His stomach aches in hunger - hunger for your hands, your body, your control. Whatever you plan to do to him, he’ll swallow it whole, bigger and bigger bites until his cheeks swell and all he can taste is you.

The grip around his base tightens, running up and down. Something about your skin is so much softer than his, untainted by the cruelty he lives through, only dirtied by desire. It spreads over his skin, glistening white and sticky.

When whines begin to twist through the silence, his eyelashes fluttering to bat away the impending tears, he doesn’t have to say it - he’s close.

Just as his muscles begin to tense, you rip your hand away.

There’s a choked little cry he lets out, hurt like an animal you spared from death. One that was ready for it, for the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is strained already, a high-pitched draw across his vocal cords. His eyes are sparkling and wet.

A peck to his cheek sends shivers down his spine. “Because you’re not supposed to finish, remember, silly? I’m just helping you hold up your end of the bet, after all.”

A sound like untuned violins, haunting and beautiful all the same, plays from his throat. You giggle at the music.

“C’mon, Toru - you wanted this, remember?”

“I know,” he grumbles, scrunching his nose. “Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

You smile.

(You would have anyways)

Your gaze falls upon the aquamarine rope, the matching eyes, before trailing back down his steadying chest.

It stutters when your fingers trace up the veins of his cock.

It heaves when you cup a palm around his balls.

You squeeze.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips lifting off the bed.

There’s a word living at the tip of his tongue, its shape burning into his mouth.

Harder.

Luckily, you know your Satoru - you know what he thinks, feels, wants. And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

The sound he makes is garbled and choked, utter nonsense. It came straight from the depths of his body, a pure animalistic response, one he couldn’t have controlled if he tried.

Already, he’s beginning to tremble in your palm - it’s getting easier to do this, make him shake like a lost leaf floating through the autumn air, held captive by the gusts of your wind. Up and down, he travels with you, because of you.

Again, you pull your hand away.

Again, he whines.

“Noooo,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. It was automatic, the expression of displeasure, ripped from him with the loss of your warmth on his.

“What’s wrong baby? You want me to stop?” It’s more fun when he has an out, when he could say no and chooses not to. When he wants this just as badly as you. “You know you-”

“No.” It's more breath than sound. “No, please. Keep going.”

And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

Precum drips down his length, covering him in remnants of desire. They cling to his skin like silky webs, woven from devotion and need. Each slick pump of your hand up and down creates more and more and more, a beautiful pearl at his slit forming one moment only to be spread by your circling thumb in the next.

Each time you reach his base, you squeeze. Each time you reach his tip, you twist. In this dance you both twirl and breathe and feel in beat, holding on to one another with sweaty hands and tired muscles.

“Remember, you can give up whenever you want,” you coo, the sweet glue of a trap.

But Satoru doesn’t dare taste, doesn’t dare step inside - he knows better.

(Right?)

“I’m not - fuck - giving up.” He tries to throw you a smile, but it lands at your feet.

Fists clench into each other, nails digging into his palms. You almost feel bad, the way he’s beginning to writhe within the ropes. It must hurt, you think, the texture soft but never soft enough - it’s nothing compared to you. In spite of his anguish, he knows better than to give up this easily. You haven’t even really begun, not yet.

When his eyelashes flutter closed, you know to pull your hand away.

He’s getting more subtle, the only sign of his impending pleasure a soft flicker of white and blue. But you recognize it, of course - his pleasure lives everywhere in him. In the way his breath catches, in the way his skin burns hot, in the way he gets all too loud or all too quiet.

There’s barely a sound this time. Instead, he just frowns, displeasure spreading across his sweet features. His lower lip sticks out, and he stares at you with cloudy eyes.

“I know, baby, I know. But this is what it takes if you want to win.”

The words don’t ease the growing ache in his core, but your voice does. Every vowel blurs the pain, every consonant gives him something to cling to. He’ll climb himself out of insanity on your breath.

Again, you wrap around him and drag him closer to the edge. Unable to pull his gaze away, he stares down it, looming, waiting. The free fall must feel nice, the wind against his skin, for a moment before he hits the ground. But with a firm hand on the back of his head, you just hold him there. It’ll be his choice whether he decides to jump. Or rather, when he decides to jump.

Another choked groan leaks from his lips when you pause. There are no words left for him to say, nothing but the agony of desire. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the leap any less tempting.

Hushed whispers, not quite praise, tingle his mind. Little hums of “I know,” or “there, there,” dance from your throat, and he writhes.

Distress always looked so pretty on him. Pretty tears, pretty red cheeks, pretty pouts and pretty cries. Perhaps it’s a curse that he looks like a fallen angel when he weeps - if he looked more grotesque, you wouldn’t feel the urge to bring him back into the jaws of pain.

But he lets you comfort him nonetheless, preen his wings and kiss his tears.

This time, when you stop, he thrashes. His skin burns, crisp like it had been warmed by the sun for too long. Everything is too tight, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. They need to be loosened; they need to be released.

“Please.”

It’s so quiet, it’s almost not a word, just little sounds from his tongue.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Tears stream from glossy eyes when he looks at you. His lips quiver as he speaks.

“Please, I wanna cum. Please.”

The smile spreading across your face is cold and knowing; he looks beautiful as he falls.

“I know you want to, but-”

“I lose.” He’s panting, gasping through the plea. “I lose, I give up, I don’t care, just, please.”

Hot tears melt beneath your thumb as you swipe them away. His mouth hangs open, as though he could swallow the air, hold it inside him and let that ease the aching. But the only thing that can help him now is you, the only thing he can stomach.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

A loose smile flows across his face, easy like gentle waves lapping at the corners of his thoughts. The sentence itself barely makes sense to him at this point, garbled in his lust-clouded mind. But he knows you’ll help him now; he welcomes the push over the edge.

Straddling his lap, you guide him to your entrance. Sticky and hot, he presses into you. Just as his tip enters your warmth, he hurls himself into the wind.

Everything in his body trembles, muscles tightening and contracting out of time. Eyelashes flutter, whimpers dance like petals as he comes undone.

The only thing he can do is twitch inside of you, pearly strings pulsing with each erratic breath.

Finally, he opens his eyes to find you smiling. Warm lips press along his cheeks, dried tears salty on your tongue.

“Well, you certainly lost this time,” you hum, resting your forehead against his; he looks at you like you created the earth itself, your breath in the wind and your heartbeat in the sun. “But there’s always next year, right?”

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.”

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.