#i really should go about this like a normal person and get out of the sewers. and explore the surface.

[thegreenlynx]

My Best Friend's a Pervert - H.JS

Description: Your best friend Jisung is your rock, he's tough and he supports you through everything. He's the most important person in your life and the one you are most comfortable with. He's also a huge pervert, but as always you overlook everything.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Content Warnings: Grinding/humping, perversion, dub-con(sorta), Fem Reader with Female anatomy

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: First full Smut posted on this account, based on this poll I did a few days ago. As always likes comments & re-blogs are very appreciated.

The two of you have been best friends for years. He's your rock, your strong pillar that holds you up when things get hard. You spend so much of your time together that everyone thinks you're dating. He's always there to take care of you, he spoils you rotten and when he's around you never need to worry about anything.

He's normally so collected, so stable. He is in control, he has everything under control. He keeps the staring to a minimum. He doesn't push you, he stays within the boundaries he ought to as a friend. He allows you to cuddle with him and goof off the way you always do, never letting the darker parts of him take over when you do. He never takes advantage of your comfort with him. But today he just can't be that man.

The day started off rough. The whole week he's been overworked, his family won't stop hounding him about getting a girlfriend and visiting for an upcoming holiday he doesn't care about. And probably worst of all, you've begun coming over to his place and stealing his clothes when you hang out. You say it's more comfortable, he loses a little part of his self control to the wind every time.

It also doesn't help that just last night his stupid roommate Minho decided to tell you that you look hot in Jisung's clothes. You blushed so sweetly at the compliment but Jisung knows his hyung wasn't flirting with you. Not genuinely anyway, he was flirting with you on Jisung's behalf. Riling him up. Teasing him.

He's a cruel man.

Which brings Jisung to the current moment. He closes the door behind you as you enter the house, he kicks off his shoes as he watches you send a casual wave to Minho who leans lazily against the counter. The dark haired man smirks and ushers you over with a single finger and Jisung only narrows his eyes with clenching fists when you prance over to him with light steps and let him feed you a cookie. Minho treats you like you're his cat. 

The sight is adorable really, the older man laughs with sparkling eyes and ruffles your hair and you giggle at him and step on his foot. On purpose he figures. Minho retaliates with a tickle attack that has your beautiful laughter echoing through the room. Melodic, cheerful, utterly carefree. It should make him happy to see the two of you getting along, normally it would too. He's not even a jealous guy. But today it just pisses him off.

He rolls his eyes and comes over to grab your wrist and drag you off. You let him but turn around slightly as you're pulled off. Minho laughs again, the playful glint in his eye never leaving, and feeds you one more cookie before patting you softly on the rear in an odd but comfortable silent goodbye.

When you enter the room Jisung runs his other hand through his hair and sighs. You let go and give him space, moving to his closet and digging around for one of his white over sized t-shirts. When you find it you smile giddily and throw it over his desk chair, peeling off your attire as you turn away from your best friend.

It shouldn't even phase him anymore. You're so comfortable with him he might as well be your brother. The thought disgusts him. He tries not to watch you undress to your pretty red lace panties, but finds himself admiring the way you pull his t-shirt over your head and hug it to yourself as you walk towards the bed.

He walks up behind you mostly in a daze, his head is empty of everything but you. The shirt barely covers your ass as you crawl onto the bed in front of him. He stands behind you watching your ass sway in your panties while you crawl. Intrusive thoughts seem to take over in that moment and he lands a rather harsh slap against the right cheek, unconsciously smiling to himself as he hears the loud clap followed by a small sweet yelp.

He wouldn't even be mad if you turned around and slapped his perverted ass right in the face. However instead of putting him in his place like you probably should have, you simply giggle softly and roll over on your back with your knees bent smiling up at him innocently.

Despite him knowing full well this is normal for you, that you mean nothing by it other than being comfortable around him and that it's probably entirely a platonic thing, It makes for a very lewd sight as you lay directly in front of him enticingly.

He knows how wrong it is to be thinking of his friend this way, he knows very well you are definitely NOT thinking any dirty thoughts during your hang outs with him, and it makes him feel like a criminal. He is definitely breaking at least 20 friend codes with the way he's gazing at your body right now.

Your legs are spread and the shirt has risen up, exposing all too much of your pretty curves and the delicate lace fabric that compliments your body so well. Your back is slightly arched off the mattress, displaying so clearly the prominent indent of your waist and the soft voluptuous curves of your hips and thighs.

He wants to touch you so bad he considers he may actually need therapy. Your arms are lying defensively down on the mattress, and he knows you probably wouldn't fight him if he did decide to touch you. The way that turns him on makes him feel disgusting.

He does give in slightly, only enough to where he knows you'll be too oblivious to take it any way but platonically, after-all you've always been a cuddly pair. You don't have to know what he's actually thinking in his head, nor the way it goes straight to his dick, you don't need to know how foggy you make his head feel.

He climbs slowly on top of you, your legs on either side of his as his face hovers above yours. His hands instinctively slide up your legs and to your waist, he squeezes the skin there and relishes in the soft feeling in his hands and the way your back arches slightly further off the bed while you unconsciously spread your legs a bit further with a small gasp. You're sensitive, it makes him smile as his thoughts stray even farther into the depths of hell and insanity, he really hates himself.

He'd probably feel a lot less disgusting if you weren't so innocent with things like this, the difference between your innocence and his makes him feel like he's taking advantage of you, perhaps also your friendship as a whole. Of course he doesn't only see you sexually, you're still one of his best friends. He still loves you like he never thought he could another person.

But you don't know this, you don't feel the same, it feels wrong. He feels like a sinner in church when he's alone with you. While you think of this as a cute little cuddle sesh with your bestie, he's desperately trying not to imagine digging his nails into your hips and slamming you further into the mattress or perhaps kissing you breathless while he lifts your shirt up and gropes you like a madman. He feels himself harden to an extent of borderline agony in his sweats at the thought.

He IS disgusting, knows this, and wishes he had more control over his thoughts and feelings than he currently does.

You're still looking up at him with a silly smile on your face, clearly entirely oblivious to everything as always. He relaxes (or tries to anyway), resting both hands on either side of your hips while he lays his head down on your chest. He takes comfort in the large plush swells he feels through the fabric. He feels a headache coming on at the lack of bra when he feels a nipple against the side of his face. The world just fucking hates him today. He can't even help the longing (read: desperate and pathetic) sigh that falls from his lips.

Of course you take it as he's just tired or stressed and not that he is trying really hard not to thrust his boner against your thigh in desperation like some kind of dog. He's so ashamed he genuinely wants to cry and has to bite back what he knows would be a rather pathetic and entirely humiliating whimper. However despite this (or maybe in spite of this, really) your gentle fingers lace through his hair, petting him so softly it would make anyone feel like they're precious.

He does take comfort in it. He loves having his hair played with, it makes him feel safe. He just wishes he didn't also think about how it'd feel to have you tugging at his hair in this exact position but a far different context. He hates the way he throbs in his pants, hates how pathetic he is and how much it hurts. He hates even more that he also kinda likes how it hurts, how you've got him so desperately wrapped around your finger, how you somehow manage to edge him without even being aware of it. Masochistic tendencies are not below him, apparently.

You giggle again, bringing your other hand up to rub his back. "Rough day?" Your voice drips of affection and honey and he almost melts, almost.

Instead he groans and huffs an irritated "hmph." His voice comes out raspy and deeper than usual, likely from the strain in his pants. He slides his hands back up to your waist and grips you harshly while turning his head to bury his face in between your breasts, shaking his head between them. His hair tumbles around on his head as he does it and you giggle again.

From your perspective it probably looked like an adorable gesture but from his it was anything but. He wants to rip your shirt off. He's so painfully hard and frustrated by the fact that he can't do all the things he wants to do. He wishes he could actually feel the skin of your breasts.

Their size is all too tempting and based off the parts of her body he has felt, he knows they would be incredibly soft and squishy. So impossibly smooth he is not sure he would be able to let go of them, perhaps it's good that you have him in the friend zone and he can't actually do that. Which is why he takes what he can get and nuzzles against them through the fabric like a kitten might, eyes glossing over even further with unrelenting lust.

You hum and seemingly in retaliation for the harsh grip still on your waist, you remove your hand from his head and tickle his side much like Minho had to you not even half an hour prior.

He supposes it's a fair punishment really. His grip is so hard he knows it's going to bruise, he will never admit that he really hopes it does, that even in a platonic sense he can mark you. Not only that but there's also no way it doesn't hurt by now. He has a tendency to grab you like this, usually unconsciously, but he's normally not this rough with it.

And well, he's incredibly ticklish. Like unbearably so. In fact he's so ticklish his immediate response to your tickling is to remove his hands from your waist and grab both of yours. He breathes heavily as he slams them above your head on the mattress, his face is now directly in front of yours and his glare is strong as he gazes into your eyes. In truth he loves the sight, and even as he glares at you he takes in the lovely view and commits it to memory. Jack-off fuel for at least a month.

You play around like this very often, Jisung has never once been genuinely angry with you nor does he typically react the way he just did. His mind is clouded with arousal and the ache in his pants in combination with the desperation he feels has genuinely ticked him off even further than his general frustration from earlier somehow.

You still don't react much other than a small gasp and the briefest moment of shock in your eyes before it shifts to simply gazing sympathetically back at his heated glare. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were that stressed out."

He feels even more annoyed with you apologizing when he's so very obviously the problem here. You make no move to get him to release you either and he hates and loves how you always let him do what he wants with you. Never being weirded out with it and always accepting him as he is, all his flaws included.

He goes to say it isn't your fault, grip not loosening in the slightest but the glare softens as he furrows his brows. "Y/n no... I-"

However, he's interrupted by the door swinging open all too casually. You both look over to see Minho standing in the doorway in complete horror. "Oh.. oh my god. Oh my god no. Shit. I'm sorry!" His face is bright red trailing all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears as he covers his eyes and swiftly turns around, slamming the door behind him. 

Jisung feels his own blush creep up his face. Even if you aren't actually doing anything this position and your prominent lack of dress is bound to give off a heavily sexual impression, he knows this well. And that in combination with the fact that he has been sporting the most raging hard boner of his life this entire time is so humiliating he thinks he actually will cry this time. His own lingering frustrations and the fact that he still has to fight the urge to grind his hips against you don't help either, and he feels even more pathetic with how easily his eyes well up with tears.

His lip trembles slightly as he goes to pull away from you, face beet red and eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Mm so sorry.. h-he definitely thinks w-we're.." He sniffles and hangs his head as he goes to move completely off the bed. You are faster and immediately stop him however, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him back into yourself. Your thighs are flush against him and the softness brings him a small sense of relief in combination with even more arousal and he can't hold back the whimper this time. Both emotional and horny, he is so overwhelmed he can't think straight.

You guide his head back into your chest and he all too eagerly wiggles his face back between your breasts with a whine and what almost sounds like a sob. He realizes he is actually full on crying now, tears soaking through the fabric of the thin t-shirt you're wearing. He is embarrassed of course, but simply can't help but let it all out when your magic hands find their way back into his hair.

You massage his scalp with a calculated care that forms goosebumps all along his neck and arms. His chest swells, his stomach tickles with an absurd amount of butterflies, and his dick twitches again in his sweats all at once. He feels a little less pathetic at the more relieved and now muffled whimper he lets out this time.

"It's okay Sungie.. I'm not upset, I can explain it to him later if you want me to." He whimpers and sobs sadly in response, gripping tightly back onto your waist as a way to ground himself enough to speak.

Even so, his mouth and brain refuse to cooperate with him and he only mumbles incoherently. "B-but I.. he.. mm.... I-I don't.." You tug lightly at his hair, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. He wishes he was prepared enough to stop the loud whine that rumbles all the way through his body.

"Shh.. Relax bub, we can talk about it later, it's not a big deal." You run a hand up and down his spine while the other continues massaging his scalp. Jisung shifts uncomfortably and slides his hands down your sides, subtly memorizing the curvature of your body. He grabs your thighs, sliding you up the bed so he can properly lay on top of you. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he nuzzles further into your chest. The shirt is so soaked with tears that in certain places on your chest it has become see through, he nudges the plush of one breast with his nose with a sniffle and watches in awe as it jiggles at even the smallest movement. He whines and thrusts his aching cock against the mattress below you, overwhelmed by how much he wants to suck on your skin. Like a drug that might fix all his troubles and cure him of his frustrations.

You still don't seem to notice his behavior is anything but sweet and friendly, laughing softly at how cute he is. Completely unaware that even with all of this he is STILL so thoroughly mind fucked with arousal, mind swarming with nasty thoughts and daydreams. This ignorance encourages him to venture a bit further, testing the boundaries of what you will enable him to do to you. Too overwhelmed, turned on, humiliated, and turned on by being humiliated to think rationally enough to stop himself.

He groans. It's loud and very obviously sexual, even if your naive self will never pick up on it. It's deep from the bottom of his throat and it comes out more of a growl than anything. He's never heard himself make such a noise before in his life. One hand still on your thigh he slides the other hand up slowly, seductively slow. If it wasn't incredibly obvious before it should have been now but alas, you don't pick up on a thing even as his hand slides up to your hip. It slows to a brief stop, sliding a thumb under the strap of your panties as the other fingers wrap around your hip.

He's no longer actively crying but still sensitive and in a very whiny mood, if you pull away he will break down again and he knows this. His eyes are once again glossed over with arousal even with his face drenched in tears and he wets his bottom lip before subtly sinking his teeth into it to maintain whatever little self control he has left that's keeping him from tearing the panties off you right this second. Instead he pulls the panty string away from your skin a small distance, relishing in the small view of the hip bone it was doing a terrible job of hiding. He lets go with a mischievous smirk, enjoying very thoroughly the way your body jerks slightly and you gasp at the snap.

You only pull his hair a little in retaliation this time, not trying to upset him or cause him to spiral any further, but just enough to demonstrate your acknowledging what you think is him playfully trying to cheer himself up. He whimpers again, loving the feeling of your hands on him even if it isn't sexual or romantic to you, it definitely is to him. His masochistic ways love the way it stings for the briefest of seconds when you pull his hair. Your actions only serve to spur him on even further. His hands are tantalizingly slow as he glides them up your waist, sliding the shirt to bunch up just below your breasts.

You shiver as he runs a nail along the curve of your waist. He happily observes it with an endeared smile while taking in the bruises forming at your waist and hips. He loves how his hands are imprinted into your skin, thinks that's how it should always be. He lets his mind imagine what you'd look like with bruises from both his hands and mouth on your neck and chest as well. His sigh is shaky as his dick twitches again against the fabric of his pants.

He leans back, hands still on your waist, and observes you from above. You're beautiful as always, and your expression holds no discomfort with his actions. You smile at him sweetly while your hands drop to either side of you. You look so vulnerable like this, practically trapped, so easy to pin down. He bites his lip harder now, taking in such an attractive sight. No other woman could make him feel this way. He's sure of that much.

He decides not to pin you down again for now, favoring the idea of getting his hands even just a little closer to the beautiful, perfectly rounded swells he has become rather obsessed with. No one had to know how much he thought about your chest, nor the way he stared when you weren't looking. The way he imagined what they would feel like gripped in his hands or on his lips, the way he imagined what they would look like had he somehow been graced with the privilege of not having god damn clothing in the way.

But whether anyone knew or not, all of it was true. He was obsessed, in truth he never felt that attracted to other women's breasts not to mention the straight undeterred obsession he feels for yours. Never before had he even been interested in other women, he can't help but wonder why that is.

He's careful and slow, hesitant as he slides his hands up slightly to rest with the bunch of the shirt directly under your breasts. He watches your reaction carefully and slowly slides his fingers over the skin on the side of your breasts, not directly touching them but close enough to almost feel them.

The action lifts the shirt just enough to show the lowest portion of your boobs, nipples still entirely covered. His breathing shakes as he thinks about it, looking into your eyes as you stare patiently back at him. You still make no effort to stop him, only stretching your arms over your head with a pleased hum escaping your beautifully parted lips. He watches entranced as the shirt lifts the tiniest bit higher in your stretch. Your back arches fully and your body curves in the most enticing way he has ever seen, he groans as your chest pushes up with the arch. Your breasts perfectly shaped and so much easier to see with the new angle.

You smile guilelessly, gently as your hands remain above your head softly caressing his silk sheets. Your body is curved for him so perfectly he has to fight the urge to kiss every inch of your skin to worship the absolute goddess you most definitely have to be. He can't resist however the subtle thrust of his hips towards you. He manages enough restraint to not let his dick touch you but his hardened length now dripping with precum is so painfully obvious in his grey sweatpants. If you notice this, you don't show it and stay smiling sweetly at him.

His dick is so close to where he feels it belongs that it makes him feel crazy. His fingers unconsciously wrap around the bunch of your shirt and he tugs. "Please.." His voice is soft, a pleading whine as his mind has finally crossed the border into submissive pussy-drunk arousal. At this point he is so hooked and out of it you could literally step on him and he'd still moan. "Please y/n.. please" The desperation in his last word makes it sound like if you say no he'll not only start crying again but he might just keel over and die.

Your expression is shocked at first, but then quickly morphs into a deep concern. He was normally so strong and now he was falling apart in front of you (for you, really, but you still don't see it that way). "Baby it's okay, you're okay." Your voice is the softest it's ever been, you bring your hands up to wipe the tears from his face. "I'm right here bubs, whatever you need. I just want you to feel better." He whines and grinds his hips in the air again while rubbing his face against one of your hands. He inhales deeply to calm himself down slightly, breathing in your comforting scent.

He then gently and hesitantly begins lifting your shirt up. Your breath hitches at the cold air assaulting your nipples but you allow him to expose your body to his yearning eyes. As soon as your hardened nipples come into view he can't stop the thrust of his hips against your clothed pussy. He whines and whimpers pitifully as he gently rocks his hips back and forth against you. His eyes roll back slightly and he moans as soon as he lifts the shirt from over your head, throwing it across the room. You gasp and look up at him in shock.

With his hips still subtly rocking against you he moves his hands to grip both of your breasts. He moans loudly and groans at the way your soft breasts feel in his hands. Even better than he had imagined, he may very well become addicted. Your breathing has gone ragged, gasps escaping your lips each time his fingers graze your nipples. He growls, loving having you react to his touches. He pinches one nipple between his fingers and toys with it, observing the way you squirm on his sheets. He twists and you yelp, not pained but surprised. The sound is so arousing he groans and dips his head towards the other breast. He continues to play with you while he kisses the swell of your boob. You sigh shakily and unconsciously meet his thrusts with a subtle one of your own.

"Ah.. s-so perfect." He moans, sucking a dark red bruise into your breast. Your whimper is like music to his ears, he wants more. He moves down to your nipple and begins sucking on it happily, he's too out of it to even realize what it is exactly he's doing to his best friend but it feels so good.

His unoccupied hand goes to your thigh pulling you flush against him and relishing in the way you moan at the action. His hand slides back down to your hip, a strong grip holding you to grind against you harder. His moans turn into a string of curses, hips stuttering as he nears his high. His whimpers are full of pain and desperation as he falls apart on you.

"I've got you bub.. you can let go it's okay." You lay a gentle kiss to his head despite the rocking of your bodies as he grinds himself against you, then you gently massage his hair again. He sighs and relaxes in response to your touch, a broken moan escaping him as he comes undone in his sweatpants. His hips continue for a good thirty seconds through incoherent pleas and mumbles of your name against your nipple.

Once he has returned to earth he looks up at you like a kicked puppy, eyes again sparkly and glossed over with more tears as his lip trembles, expression completely fucked out but also lost and confused. He had never looked so vulnerable.

You stop him before he can even begin to apologize. Pulling him closer and cradling him in your arms as he sobs again. "Shh Jisung.. s'okay. I'm here and everything's okay you don't need to think right now. Let's just get you cleaned up and then we can cuddle okay?" He nods hesitantly in your shoulder and nuzzles into your hair. "Good boy, can you roll over for me?" You softly tap his hip to get him to lay on his back.

He does as he's told and looks up at you sadly with tears slowly falling from his eyes, but he tries his best to stay silent as you begin removing his pants. He's embarrassed but also too fucked out to do it himself. "I'll be right back, stay still for me." You walk out and into the bathroom before returning with a warm cloth.

You are careful and gentle as you removes his clothes, avoiding looking anywhere you don't have to in order to avoid embarrassing him any further. You then gently wipe him off, trying not to let yourself falter at his pained cries and whimpers of overstimulation.

Feeling you take care of him makes him feel safe and loved despite all of the mess that today has brought. However, he would also be lying if he said he didn't actually enjoy the way your touches hurt and overwhelmed him. He buries his desire for more and tries his best to simply be grateful for the amount you just gave him, when he totally deserved to be kicked right in the crotch for being a pathetic horny man who wants his best friend to ruin him.

You remove his shirt too, he isn't sure why really, he knows it isn't dirty. You then walk off to his closet and grab two of his baggy comfort tees and a pair of boxers from his drawer. He stays sniffling with a pout on his lips on the bed and doesn't even try to hide the way he watches your ass when you walk away, nor does he try to be subtle about checking out your lace panties and the way your boobs bounce as you walk back towards him.

He sighs content as you slide the comfy tee over his head and he raises his hips to help you with his underwear. He takes the other shirt from you and puts it gently on the bed before looking up at you and burying his face against your stomach as more tears fall from his eyes.

He's full on shaking now and he isn't exactly sure why. Nothing makes sense to him right now, his head feels funny, he's tired, mad at himself, embarrassed, ashamed, afraid, he has a head ache, he's dizzy. He's never felt so overwhelmed in his entire life. His arms wrap tightly around your body and he shakes with more sobs, body wracked with pent up frustration even his climax couldn't free him from. He can't even breathe.

"Baby.. please lay down Sungie.. please lay down for me." He chokes on a sob and gasps for air, whining as he forces himself to pull away and lay down like you tell him to. You grab the t-shirt from the bed and set it on the nightstand by his bed for later, picking up on the fact that he wanted it to stay off for now, whatever the reason may be.

He immediately curls into a ball sniffling, so fragile he may shatter if you aren't careful and you grab his favorite blanket from the side of the bed and drape it over him. You climb under it with him and he immediately sobs again and pulls you into him, desperately trying to be as close to you as possible. He knows how pathetic he must look but he can't help it. He's overwhelmed and so scared of losing you that he's now having a panic attack.

"Jisung.. You're scaring me, what's going on?" He starts hyperventilating at that, not wanting to have to explain his feelings for you, or why he did the things he just did, or how hard it is to be around you when you're.. well.. you. He doesn't want to have to say he's crazy about you, that he wants you to be his, that every little moment you share means so much more to him then it ever will to you, that every little seductive act you unconsciously make is agonizing to him. He doesn't even want to have to tell you about how work is stressing him out, about how tired he is. He doesn't wanna tell you that you're the only thing that makes it better, that you make everything better, and he simply cannot think straight with you around. That he doesn't even want to.

"I'm sorry baby, you don't have to tell me. I'm so sorry, breathe for me please. It's okay I'm right here, I'll take care of you." You rub his back and allow him to rest his head on top of your chest again. It's a comforting pillow and your hands, he swears they have healing powers, the way they make everything feel okay.

He gasps for air and tries to regulate his breathing. Holding your other hand up to his lips, his voice is hoarse and broken when he speaks. "Please.. Please d-don't leave.. Don't leave me.." His lips kiss your knuckles as he talks. He isn't opposed to begging for forgiveness and dropping on his knees to plead you to stay if it comes down to it.

"I'm not going anywhere, would never leave you bub." You kiss the top of his head and snuggle against him, tightly holding him close as you try to convey the truth in your words through your body. "Never."

"Really?" He looks up at you with sparkly sweet eyes, sensitive and wavering.

"Yes Hannie, would never leave you. You're irreplaceable to me, I love you."

He gasps, even though there's no evidence you mean it any way but platonically, he is taken off guard by the fact that you have never said those words to him in a format that wasn't a joke. For once he chooses not to overthink it, no matter how you mean it, he's happy.

He smiles brightly at you, the child like grin you've grown to love returning. "I love you too y/n"

You smile at him softly before pulling him back down into your chest, there you both fall asleep for the night. You, naked except for your panties under the blanket with marks littering various parts of your skin and him, almost fully clothed wrapped up tightly in your arms as if maybe you could shield him from every hardship of the world with your arms alone.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Taglist: @my-neurodivergent-world

[81pastrys]

Late Night Reward

Summary— Oscar hated her personality, but what if that was her way of getting his attention?

Warnings— smut ; rough sex ; slight overstimulation ; protected sex ; aftercare and cuddles ; Oscar is mean, but she reciprocates it

A/N— This turned the way I wanted it tbf

Oscar One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— please write about the reader accidentally confessing to oscar 😣😣

Oscar never really had issues with many people, well not until she started showing up. Charles Leclerc’s little sister. Prince Of Monaco began bringing the little Princess Of Monaco around and she wore that crown like everyone cared deeply about it. Spoiler, Oscar did not give one flying fuck who she was.

She would make herself known in the most obnoxious way and all he wanted to do was set her straight, make her crown sit crooked for once. While everyone else was on their knees for her, Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed at her.

“Mate why does it matter?” Lando asked one day. Oscar was fired up because she was in the paddock and soaking all the attention up. Not he really wanted the attention on him, but why was she so full of herself?

“It doesn’t, she’s just- ugh.” Oscar responded, pissed off even thinking about it. “Have you ever looked at a girl and just thought about fucking the attitude out of them?”

Lando looked at him with the most dumbfounded look ever. “Umm no actually, have you?” He asked with hesitance.

“That’s what I think about her, she needs a good fucking to be put in her place.” Lando looked nearly horrified. This was Charles’s little sister they were talking about.

“Let’s take a breather.” Lando suggested. Oscar rolled his eyes and agreed they should take a quick walk. Not that Lando was particularly scared of Oscar, but those words were not what he was expecting out of the shy man.

“Lando! Oscar!” Miss Princess said when they entered the paddock. Oscar huffed a breath and rolled his eyes. Lando smiled and greeted her, a light blush on his face. “Good luck in the race.” Her little accent made it all worse.

“Yeah, thanks.” Oscar responded. She blatantly ignored his attitude. Maybe she thought the same for Oscar. “If you excuse us, we’re going on a walk.”

“Oh of course! I can tell you need to blow off some steam.” She was enthusiastic but Lando caught the sarcastic hint. He stifled a laugh and saw Oscar go red in the face.

After their walk Oscar got an Instagram notification, weird he only has followers messaging notifications on and they usually use WhatsApp or normal messages.

‘Lose the attitude next time Piastri.’ -Princess of Monaco. Of course he for some reason follows her. He scoffed and responded with ‘You’re the one with attitude.’

Their messages go on, unnoticed by the other drivers. After the race and a 1-2 for McLaren, she doesn’t just wriggle her way to him in Parc Ferme, but offers a reward for winning at her hotel room.

‘Room 004 ;)’ She texted him. The room number was ironic considering his teammate. He scoffed with a “Yeah right.” Under his breath.

‘Same hotel as mine?’ -Oscar Piastri. What a fucking sucker. He left her on read for hours and waited until he was back in his hotel room and showered to respond.

‘Yes, be wary of Charles he said he was going to the bar on my floor.’ He laughs and heads down. He’s very observant, checking corners and making sure no other drivers notice. Especially his teammate or Charles. No sight of them anywhere.

He makes it and knocks, she’s in pajamas. Maybe he got the wrong idea? A reward in his mind was sex, but maybe he got it all wrong. “Oh, you actually came.” She said annoyed almost. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you not think I would?” He asked offended almost. She shrugged and let him in before any drivers could notice. “You texted me, not the other way around.”

“I know, but you’re so stuck up and egotistical I didn’t think you’d actually follow through.” She said casually. That pissed him off even more. “Sort of like a blank promise.”

He pinned her to the wall and kissed her quickly. “You know what I think of you?” He whispered, his voice deep and seductive. She hummed for an answer and he chuckled. “I think you need to be fucked senseless, you know to forget your little facade.”

He smashed his lips on hers again and she was more into now. “Maybe so, are you offering?” She asked, her innocent little eyes twinkling up at him.

“I’ve wanted to do it the first day I met you.” He growled. “So full of yourself, yearning for attention.” She moaned, his hold on her hips tightening as he speaks.

“Yearning for your attention.” She squeaked. Oscar loosened his hold and backed away. “Don’t go fucking soft, fuck me like you want to, what if that was my goal?” Shy boy Piastri had a darker side and she wanted to see it. She just had to awaken it first.

“Fucking brat.” He mumbled. He kissed her again and they made it to the bed. Clothes tearing off and kisses interrupting. “What do you want? For me to fuck you senseless, or fuck you like I mean it?” He teased.

“What if you just fuck me?” She said annoyed he wasn’t going any faster in his movements. He chuckled and put a condom on.

“I see the attitude hasn’t wavered.” He scoffed. He teased her more by slipping his fingers in, he did want to be rough, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. Once he realized she was ready enough he slipped in, slowly now to tease her.

“Mon Dieu, you’re fucking big.” She moaned, resorting to her native tongue. The accent now turned Oscar on even more- if possible. He was slow and sensual now she said that.

“Am I big or are you just not getting good dick?” He teased with a smirk. She groaned as he bottomed out. Her walls were tight and hugging him. He could barely keep his composure at how tight she was.

“Putain, just get on with it!” He chuckled lightly and started fucking her the way he always wanted to: fast and hard. Her moans spilled out ceremoniously. Her fingernails digging into his forearms, slightly painful. His hands held her hips still as he drilled into her over and over.

He wanted to ruin her for anyone else. “Hows that? Does it feel good in your little pussy?” He teased. She cursed at him in French, her eyes rolling back. Her orgasm was close and he slowed down.

“Putain! Tu es un âne!” She cursed. He was being an asshole to be fair. He only knew that word because Charles had called him that after a few races. “Let me finish!” She demanded. He continued slowly thrusting.

“I am not an asshole, I just want you to feel everything.” He whispered meanly in her ear. He picked up speed once her walls stopped twitching and got her close again, this time keeping up with the harsh pace. One of his hands moving to circle her clit.

She screamed as she finished. He never let up, hard and fast thrusts still penetrating her into overstimulation. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss and she grabbed his hand from her clit. He only smiled and moved his opposite hand to replace it. “Too much?” He questioned feigning innocence.

She groaned as another orgasm crashed over her, small tears pulled from her eyes. All she could do was take it, screaming ‘my god’ in French over and over. He got her where he wanted her. Ruined for anyone else and spent for the night.

He slowed his thrusts and pulled out, finishing in the condom and tossing it. He grabbed a damp towel from the bathroom and returned to her. No words exchanged, just their panting breaths as he cleaned her up.

“You’re a dick.” She said when he was done. He chuckled and tossed the dirty rag somewhere. “Let me guess, this is where you leave and expect me not to speak to you?” He was putting his boxers on when she questioned him.

“If you want that.” He shrugged. “I was going to stay, but if you want me to act like the asshole you perceive me as.” She laughed and held her arms out from the bed.

“I like being cuddled after I’m fucked properly, so no I don’t want that.” She said. He crawled in the hotel bed and cuddled her like she wanted.

“How many guys have you kicked out because you weren’t ’fucked properly’?” He laughed. She made a thinking face and he smiled.

“You’re the first I haven’t kicked out so.” He chuckled. It wasn’t her first time, but it was definite the best sex she’d ever had. “I’ll boost your ego a tiny bit, no man has ever made me cum that hard or more than once.”

“Huh, you poor thing.” He joked. “Was it worth pissing me off though?” He asked. “You could’ve sucked up to me a bit.”

“I figured you wouldn’t notice me as much and when my brother mentioned you hated girls like me I wanted to give it a go.” He kissed her head.

“Well mission accomplished, you got my attention and good sex.”

The title doesn’t fit, ik.

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @angelluv16 @itznotsophia @kallanfiona

[yukioos]

shoto is nervous to ask to cuddle with you

shoto wasn’t showered with love when he was a child, only praised when he did exactly what his father wanted him to do. he didn’t have much interaction with his siblings or even his mother to give a simple hug or have a conversation with them. according to his father, hero work was more important, and he wasn’t even a teenager when he had to go to extreme measures to become the best.

he was always training and was never taught or shown real love, too busy to receive it from anyone. the first person he received true love from was you, and yet he was so scared to initiate any act of intimacy, whether it was kissing, hugging, or hand-holding. words of affirmation came easily from him, as he was shown praise for doing well as a child, but he gave you compliments frequently. that was one of the few romantic acts he was good at.

but when shoto began to date you, he never knew what a proper relationship should look like, so he asked the boys in your class for advice.

he walked up to eijiro and stood in front of him with a blank expression, causing the redhead to ask, “‘sup, todoroki? you need anything?”

shoto stated, as his eyes darted back and forth between the man in front of him and the ground, “y/n and i are dating, and i don’t know how to show… love to her.” he paused, staring at eijiro’s widened eyes and a sharp tooth poking out, “i see couples holding each other in movies, normally in a bed or on a couch, is that normal to do with your lover?”

eijiro nodded, “yeah, dude! that’s totally normal, almost all couples do that with each other!” shoto’s eyes widened, and eijiro sighed, “you aren’t worried about it, are you? you don’t have to show pda if you aren’t comfortable with it, just show her love in different ways!”

“no, i want to,” he shook his head, “i want to hold her like that, but i don’t know how to initiate the act.”

eijiro exclaimed, “normally couples cuddle in bed, and there’s a lot of different positions too! one of you can spoon the other, which is where you hold each other, or you can be face to face. there’s a ton of positions, just find out what you wanna do by experimenting. most people cuddle when they’re super comfortable with each other or are resting in bed together, you don’t even have to say anything while doing it, it’s just a really intimate act. don’t feel pressured to do it though, dude!”

shoto nodded and said goodbye to him before retreating to his room, where you lay on his bed, watching television. when you heard the creaking of the door, you smiled and turned your attention from the large screen to him.

you grinned up at him, “hey handsome,” and scooted closer to the wall, patting down the sheets under you.

he hesitatingly walked over and sat down, staring deep into your eyes when you casually kissed his cheek, then his lips, and then his neck all in the span of a second. the tips of his ears turned red and his eyes were widened, how did you do that without a thought? how were you so natural at it?

shoto wanted to feel you, feel the natural warmth radiating off of you, and your body weight comfortably lying on his. he couldn’t wait any longer, and wanted to feel as close to you as possible.

he mumbled, “can i hold you?” and averted his eyes from your intimidating, loving gaze.

you tilted your head and looked into his heterochromic eyes, which were looking down at his sweatpants. you moved your head to get into his sight of view, and smiled, holding his cheek in your hand. he subconsciously moved closer once he felt your touch, and let out a soft sigh.

you then responded, “yeah, sho, you don’t have to ask.” then paused, “you don’t have to be shy around me, you can just do whatever you want. if you want to hold me, you don’t need to ask, it’s okay.”

he nodded and panicked for a second. how was he supposed to initiate the cuddles again? was he supposed to lay out his arms so you could crawl into his grasp?

suddenly, all his worries were swept away once you placed yourself into his arms. you wrapped your arms around his torso, slinging a leg over his. he felt your head lying on his chest, feeling his heart rate pick up and race quicker and quicker. he didn’t know what to do with his arms but remembered a movie once. the boy placed his hand on the girl’s back and rubbed it up and down, so he did as he remembered.

shoto’s mind was clear and calm for the rest of the night, feeling secure as long as he could protect you. he felt so loved, and as if he could show love as well as you do.

yay i love shoto

[actuallybean]

Please Please Please

Dating Dean Winchester is all fun and fistfights until you’re begging him not to get arrested before breakfast. All you’re asking is please, please, please—don’t screw this up. Inspired by Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter *Contains lots of fluff Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader ag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"You Had One Job, Winchester."

You should have known falling for Dean Winchester would feel like dancing barefoot on broken glass — thrilling, a little dangerous, and guaranteed to leave you bleeding.

But you did it anyway.

You fell hard. Fast. Stupidly.

And now, standing in front of the sheriff’s office with your arms crossed and your blood pressure sky-high, you’re wondering if that was the dumbest decision of your life.

He comes stumbling out ten minutes late, limping slightly, bruised on one cheek and grinning like he didn’t just get arrested for breaking and entering.

“Before you yell,” Dean says, hands raised in mock surrender, “it was technically unlocked.”

You blink. “Dean. You broke into a bakery.”

“There were EMFs all over the oven!”

You deadpan, “You’re aware normal people just knock and ask questions, right?”

“But it was two in the morning—”

“Exactly.”

He winces. “Okay, not my best plan.”

You march over, grab his ear, and tug. “You think?”

“OW! Babe, easy—my reputation—”

“You should be embarrassed!” you hiss. “I spent the last four hours convincing a sheriff you weren’t a delusional criminal with a pastry fetish.”

Dean tries not to laugh. “To be fair, those croissants were amazing.”

You groan. “Dean. Please. I’m begging you. Can you go one week without getting us banned from a county?”

He smiles sheepishly, slipping his arms around your waist like that’ll soften you.

Spoiler: It does. A little.

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs. “Trouble follows me.”

“No,” you correct. “You chase it down in a muscle car.”

You’re not even mad that Dean’s reckless — okay, you are, but that’s not the real issue.

It’s that you love him. Desperately. Stupidly. You love him like a prayer you say with clenched fists and held breath.

And that means every time he walks out the door, you’re not just worried he’ll get hurt.

You’re worried he’ll do something so Dean it’ll blow everything up — you, him, your sanity, your future.

Because Dean doesn’t do quiet love. He does whiskey and gunpowder, fists first and feelings later. You knew that when you fell for him.

You just didn’t expect it to hurt this good.

“Why are you mad?” Dean asks later, tossing his duffel onto the motel bed.

You stare at him. “You really don’t get it?”

“No,” he says honestly, stepping closer. “I mean—I get that I screwed up the bakery thing. But you’re not mad about that.”

You pause. “I’m scared.”

Dean stills.

You wrap your arms around yourself. “Everywhere we go, I’m just… waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to pick the wrong fight or flirt with death and leave me standing there, looking like a girl who should’ve known better.”

Dean’s voice is quiet. “You’re not a fool.”

“I’m in love with you. The guy who can’t walk past danger without poking it. That feels pretty foolish.”

He walks to you, slowly. Gentle hands cup your cheeks. “I’m not gonna ruin this.”

“You could,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But I won’t. I’ve messed up a lot of things in my life, but you’re not gonna be one of them.”

You laugh shakily. “Please, please, please don’t embarrass me.”

He leans in. “Not unless you count sexy karaoke in roadside bars. In which case—I make no promises.”

You’d like to say Dean takes your fears to heart.

And he does.

For about 48 hours.

Then he gets into a fistfight with a possessed pastor at a gas station.

“I thought he was demon-possessed!” Dean defends, icing his hand on the hotel mini-fridge.

“Yeah?” you snap. “And what gave it away? His eyes? His Latin? Or the fact that he said ‘bless you’ and you took that personally?”

Dean grins. “It was the holy water. He didn’t flinch.”

“Because he’s a pastor!”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches with a chuckle and no small amount of pride.

“You love me,” he says smugly.

You point at him. “Yes. Unfortunately. So much it makes me stupid.”

But for all the chaos, Dean tries.

He double-checks motel locks now. He leaves cheesy notes in your duffel. He lets you drive the Impala (once — you cried).

He listens when you need to vent. He softens when you break.

And one night, after a particularly rough hunt, he takes your hand and blurts, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ve screwed up so many things. I’ve lost people I didn’t think I could live without. But you—if I lose you—God, sweetheart, I won’t come back from that.”

Tears well in your eyes. “Then please don’t make me watch you destroy yourself.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I promise. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

And for once, you believe him.

Of course, two days later, he dives headfirst into a vampire nest without backup.

But he comes back with all his limbs, a bouquet of gas station daisies, and a hand-written card that says:

Sorry I made you almost throw up from anxiety. I love you more than pie. Please don’t kill me. P.S. I killed the vamps. You’re welcome. – Dean “Please Please Please” Winchester

You roll your eyes.

And kiss him breathless anyway.

[vero-lynn]

Do you really think Brian blames Tim for everything that's happened?

Tim didn't know the sickness could spread, he didn't even connect the dots about the Operator in the entries being the same monster he'd seen in his childhood until much later.

As for forgetting Brian, the sickness causes amnesia, Brian should know that better than anyone, Tim wasn't aware of Brian's whereabouts after college because of said amnesia, he had probably tried to reach out at some point but it might have been after Alex killed him for the first time. Tim may have thought that Brian just moved on from him since he didn't reach out either, Tim had never formed a relationship with someone prior to Brian, the only one he had before was with his mother who left him in a psych ward as a kid which probably gave him some kind of abandonment complex, after never hearing back from Brian he might have felt that he should have seen it coming, that just like his mother no one else would actually want him around. Tim lived life as normal afterwards because that was all he could really do.

This isn't a jab at any of your analyses about Brian btw, I think you're probably the only person in the fandom who understands his character best and I love reading all your posts about him. I'm just asking this from the viewpoint of my own analysis of MH, and I'd really like to know what you think.

Smiles at you so cutely, thank you for this ask..

TLDR for everything I'm about to say: NO!!!!! NO. Brian doesn't, but I MYSELF DO. I always try to make sure that it's obvious it's my personal beef with Tim, not Brian's, but...

Let me yap about this, get comfortable..

SO BRIAN. That's a man that loves so much and so genuine. He's a lover and a giver.

He doesn't HATE. He never HATES anyone other than ALEX. Alex is the only person he has genuine hatred for and who he wants DEAD - AND YET!! He's unable to kill him himself. He is okay with holding the gun for as long as someone else pulls the trigger.

Now, you mentioned the sickness and that Tim didn't know, well, do you know who DID know? MASKY. Someone had to come to Brian, give him a camera and tell him to cover up his face, pointing him in the right directions - that being stalking and recording Alex because something was wrong with him. Obviously Brian would know that his best friend is changing, so he followed along. We know that he's been stalking Alex BECAUSE he's missing in entry 17 and 20. He's not there. He's... Somewhere! He should be on set but he's simply not! Or he's feeling sick! He himself is getting sicker and sicker the longer he's stalking Alex.

No, Brian doesn't blame Tim/Masky for this.

Brian and Masky had to be working together while marble hornets was being recorded, they knew it was important, but later on, after everyone is gone, Masky/Tim never go out of their way to follow Alex and finish the job, we know this because Tim is living a normal life FAR FAR away from where Alex is, HE HIMSELF doesn't even know he moved.

No, Brian doesn't blame him for forgetting about him, but he is bitter about him not finishing the job and not coming with him to do so. We see that in TTA and the constant calling out and mocking from Hoody. (Messages is a good example, and so is BROADCAST that's posted right after Masky's leg gets broken. Are you drowning?)

In short, Brian doesn't hate Tim. He doesn't blame him for anything. He knows his situation and not once would he be angry at him for his choices. He doesn't WANT to hurt him, but he IS willing to do so to get what he wants and what they all need. (The pills, and Alex dead and gone.)

Tim is incapable of going straight for the kill, that's what Masky was always good at. He needs Masky to come out so they can hunt Alex down and kill him. Tim won't help him. He knows this. Tim is aggressive towards him, Tim doesn't remember him, but again, MASKY does. He doesn't hurt Tim just to see him suffer, he doesn't want that! At all! But there's simply no other way. And he's willing to take it.

Even after he dies, he NEVER. EVER. Blames or is mad at Tim for it. He's so relieved he's okay and safe and ALIVE. That's all he wanted. THAT'S ALL HE WANTED. He doesn't blame him for his own death, but the ark is pushing him with the whole "I KILLED YOU! AND YOU'LL DIE HERE SLOWLY BECAUSE OF ME!" nightmare he had with Tim's mask. And yet.. he doesn't. He loves Tim. He never stopped.

His actions are out of anger and frustration, sure, but the deep love and care never left. He never wanted to hurt anyone.

I do though, I hate Tim for how he treated Hoody. I don't care that it was a stranger, you can see that a person is sick with the same disease YOU have medicine for and you're unwilling to help them even if all THEY did was to help and guide your ass. He's a hypocrite to me, and I understand his reasonings, but I'll never not be bitter about it. -- that's a whole different thing though haha...

MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPENED FOR DISCUSSIONS BTW!! I LOVE TO YAP!!

[augustnugs]

@unfairunknown you mentioned Veilguard and the locked tomb in the same breath and I'm incapable of being normal about either of them but anyway :D

Spoilers for harrow the ninth/the locked tomb trilogy and general incoherent babble below

I feel like there are a lot of parallels between HtN and VG in regards to how they handle grief. Like you said, the blood magic Solas uses on Rook/Harrow's self-lobotomy (the way the her necromancy just find-and-replaces all instances of Gideon is so funny/devastating and I like to apply a bit of that to my own headcanons on how the blood magic works on Rook. Although I do think dialing back some of the worst effects of Harrow's necromancy is necessary bc I think that Rook hemorrhaging out their face holes whenever somebody mentions Varric's name would raise some red flags)

but also Harrow's necromantic white-out/Rook's Varric hallucinations only happen bc neither of them can really face their grief (thinking about that one dialogue option in the fade prison where Rook acknowledges that on some level, deep down, they knew Varric was dead). Harrow traps herself in a dream bubble/Rook getting locked in the fade prison, neither of them can escape until they acknowledge and accept their losses and rely on the people around them (the lighthouse gang reaching out to Rook...the crew in the dream bubble staying to help Harrow fight Wake...just...*chef's kiss*)

Also chewing over HtN's use of 2nd-person narration and Varric's story cards throughout the game. The sigh of relief I let out when Harrow finally says Gideon's name vs. the emotional damage dealt when it's revealed Varric was dead the whole time

Just...oof. I could go on but I feel like I should just make a separate post about it lol

The Book Club Conundrum

One thing really love about reading fanfic for videogames (Veilguard in particular), is seeing all the other in-game mini-story options that wouldn't have occurred to me in a million years. In Veilguard, for example, there is a large component of the fandom that writes Rook as isolated within the team, someone who is always helping but never gets helped in return. It's fascinating because you can do a lot with it, and also because it never would have crossed my mind otherwise.

I have started to call it The Book Club Conundrum, because you twice find book club notes in the Lighthouse where everyone gives their thoughts on a book they've read together. Rook does not give them, which I assumed meant we were supposed to fill that part in ourself (since Rook is the self-insert character, the game writers try to leave as many of their opinions open as possible), but it's very common in fic to read that Rook wasn't invited, and holds at least a bit of resentment for that, and for the way the team bonds around them in general.

As I said: a lot of mileage, which is great for fanfic, because conflict has to come from somewhere.

HOWEVER

Since I imagined Rook at the book club meetings and adding their thoughts, I did it with other examples of team bonding as well. This is particularly important to the "always helping, never helped" component of the argument, because: the team does try. They try so hard.

Most of them take you to a funeral/memorial at some point (Lucanis does it in a Blighted Treviso; if Minrathous is Bighted, you get it twice: once from Neve and once from The Viper. Davrin takes you out to play with a griffon, over and over, which is just as therapeutic). They take you through their grieving process, for new pains and old. They share their traditions. Their grief. Their anger. They wait for Rook to break.

And they never do.

Solas does a lot of heinous things, on all manner of scale, but something I find EXTREMELY fascinating is that he almost fucked up Rook's relationship with their entire team. Rook's seeming denial of their grief is the one thing that no one can break through. It makes them seem cold and a bit uncaring, like they're willing to push through almost everything to get the job done. And of course they are! Willing, I mean. It's a very Dread Wolf sort of lie: just enough truth to destroy everything.

(If you save "Words of Fire" as long as possible, Taash finally just yelling at you is SUPER affecting, lmty.)

In fanfic, I've seen everything from "it's weird that Rook is talking to an empty room again" to "Rook is grieving in their own way" to "Rook hears a weird humming noise every time they think too much about Varric, but can't do anything about it". Sometimes Rook yells at the team for not noticing (Neve notices IMMEDIATELY, fwiw, the same as Solas tells you immediately what he's done. You just keep going anyway), and sometimes the resolution is more quiet.

It's fascinating to me, both as a writer and a reader/player, that the same common start point (Solas being a manipulative jackass "for the greater good"), can have so many divergent paths. It's not just "Rook ignores the team and they all die" or "Rook moves heaven and earth for her team and they all live". There's a lot of space in that second one, and fanfic lets us wallow in what the game sets up.

Veilguard is a game of mirrors, obviously, but it's also a game where all of your companions could have been the protagonist, except all of the good guys are DESPERATELY trying not to be the main character. The villains are all like that too (especially Johanna, who is barely aware the risen gods are there), only they WANT to be the main characters. And that's usually what leads to their downfall.

Varric wrote pulp fiction. The kind reviews denigrate as trashy while millions of people have fun reading them. He wants a main character, a hero he can pin a tragedy on. He made one, and propped up another. Rook was going to be his third, and Solas (accidentally) almost made sure it happened. But Rook gets free of that, wins themself out by sheer friendship and the willingness to move forwards.

And no matter what kind of angst you want to put into your fanfic (and please, continue to do so; I am having fun!) that is pretty great.

[tamtaco]

With the spring salutations update now being out I would like to talk about a theory I’ve had for a bit! (Okay it’s not really a theory, more like something I’ve noticed)

Genuinely I don’t think people have noticed this, or just not bothered to say anything but like, from the 3 updates we’ve gotten Sally has always been the ‘indirect’ reason for someone to have what I believe is a breakdown

In Eddies case it’s more noticeable, Sally is the one that tells Eddie that “they” thought that he should have a day off, and is also gets him to go to the home-warming party with her. And it’s at the home-warming party that Eddie has his panic attack

“Oh my dear Poppy! I’ve been so ignorant to her needs!I must do something to rectify my mistake!So that she knows that we are all mindful of her fearful disposition! But… What if she hears the play from her barn? Or worse-What if she sees it?”

In Poppys case, Sally is the one that mentions how horrible it would be for Poppy if she sees the play she’s hosting after finding out that poppy is scared of leaving her house. Which leads them to cover up Poppys window (door?)

In Julie’s case it’s harder to notice, but it’s still there. In the storybook “spring salutations” the narrator sounds just like Sally without her sass and use of “big words”

In the book as we all know, Julie wakes up early because of the narrator repeating Julie’s name louder and louder. And In cause is the reason to why the entire book happened.

In the video recording we got of Julie, we see that she is trying her best to make this black flower bloom, and with some quick searching on the internet the fandom found out that it’s most likely a black tulip. The black tulip is a tulip that only grows in the winter. Julie was not supposed to even see that flower because she was supposed to wake up in spring, but because she was woken up earlier, she saw the flower and tried to make it bloom. And because it blooms in winter, a time were she is supposed to be hibernating, the flower didnt bloom and when that happens Julie starts to freak out.

Let’s look over that again okay? Julie freaks out because she couldn’t get the flower that blooms in winter, to bloom in spring, because she was woken up earlier by the narrator, the narrator that sounds just like Sally.

(I’m going to be so fr right but this doesn’t feel that far fetched, like just go and quickly check it out rn and tell me that’s not Sally talking like how a normal person would)

But my question is why? Why is Sally so often the reason for things to happen? Does she even know what she’s doing? I mean, we know she’s a performer so maybe she’s aware of us and wants to put on a show for us? Is she under Home’s control or is she doing this just because she can? Because this is the best entertainment for an extraterrestrial being that might have lived for thousands of years? I have no idea, but I felt the need to share my findings.

[prapaiwife]

Ssaeng vs fan

It's telling in this episode they showed us two different fans interactions with Kin! One with one fan just basically praising him for being such an amazing actor and even implying that he's going to win the best new actor award! This was just a simple wholesome interaction and most of all kin was happily conversing and comfortable with his fan. And then with the other interaction with the ssaeng it was just so uncomfortable. The way she spoke to him as if she chose her words carefully to literally see if she can get anything out of him any information. She didn't really care nor see that she put him in an uncomfortable situation and position. But kin being so nice he tried to keep the conversation light but she continually made it dark. Kin himself obviously being in the industry he's had both of these interactions on both hands. So he immediately felt the difference he had with the first fan in the store compared to when she came in. Cuz he was already getting these weird signs that something is very off with him hearing cameras flashing. And him also just remembering her face from the beginning that pretty much was ingrained in his mind! So the fact that he could sense from her energy that it was completely off says a lot.

But it also says a lot that they showed us those two different interactions so people can know what is acceptable and whaf isn't at all. Seeing your favorite person your idol in person and letting them know how much they have made such a positive influence in your life is great. There's no harm going up to them to simply just praise him for what they do for what they love. But to have this a very kind of demanding demeanor tourism with just completely turn them off completely from you. And you put them in an uncomfortable position say you love them but you talk to them as if you own them as if they are old to tell you every single part of their life their business. That is not normal and that is not acceptable there's not always going to be people like Kin who was very empathetic and very understanding. Like he was with her till the end to even chop the charges against her! he knew that everything she did was off the rails and not acceptable. But he also heard her out.. and her praying at her heart to him about how she just wanted that one-on-one moment the one that they're having right now. But the lengths that she took to get this moment the way she made her favorite person that she loves so much uncomfortable and traumatized because this behavior is traumatizing.

She recognized that in the last moment when she says that he's not looking at her the way that he would normally look at his fans. And they should click to her in a moment because this is not a normal fan interaction! But because she is his fan that's what sticks to Kin the most that's the only way he could honestly probably look at this. But then again I don't think it's him coddling her behavior. Is that that he had to basically stoop Domino for her to not feel so I guess you can say disconnected from him because he reaches out to her and touches her hand. But when you're handling people like that who are not in the right mind at all mentally you have to be careful.

[jayrrow]

Call me any time (implied Kate/Yelena)

on ao3

word count: 1,7k

warnings: none (except not proof read. in my case that's a legit warning.)

relationships: Kate/Yelena (implied or pre-relationship, however you wish to interpret it!), Thunderbolts team & Yelena

summary: After the recent events, there is only one person Yelena is waiting to hear from. The Thunderbolts wonder who this mysterious person is.

A/N: guess who just saw thunderbolts 🫠🫠 this came to me in a dream and i HAD to write it. i don't normally post ff on this account but i decided to go fuck it and do it this once. there's also potential for part two (and three) in case anyone's interested.

THERE IS NO ACTUAL BISHOVA IN THIS! you can imagine this as a post-credit scene only written for the sake of getting a Kate mention in.

no thunderbolts spoilers (i think) but beware anyway! i tried making it vague.

It has been hours. Yelena staring at the phone laying on the table in front of her as if it would turn into a flying snake at any second, each of the members of their little posse trying to coax her out of it.

First was Alexei, who attempted to psyche Yelena out of it by boring her with an elaborate story. No reaction.

Then went Walker, and to no one's surprise his idea of poking Yelena was not a good one. He ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a bruised cheek that would not heal so fast even with his enhancements.

Bob was the third in the line. His tactic was to offer a trip to ice cream. Work it did not, but it did get Yelena to mutter "ice cream is for children" under her breath. That was progress from the silence, at least.

Bucky only happened to walk in at the wrong moment. He was only supposed to drop by for a file he'd left laying around somewhere, but that didn't end as planned. Two seconds and twenty-two milliseconds after he stepped out of the Watchtower elevator, his non-metal arm was being held hostage in the loving hands of the Red Guardian.

So Bucky's attempt went just about like this: he sat on the small two-seater couch next to Yelena and mirrored her pose by leaning his arms on his knees and head on his fists. Yelena moved for the first time after her surprise attack on Walker, only to scoot over to the far end of the couch. Bucky then gave up and went to get his file. He didn't leave though—he had to see how this would end.

Their last resort was calling in the missing member. It took quite a while since Ava was not so keen on answering a phone call from any of them on her one (1) day off in the entirety of their post-void chaos. Eventually she did pick up after Alexei sent her about a dozen "URGENT" messages.

It took Ava approximately fifteen minutes, nine seconds, and sixty-four milliseconds to arrive at the scene. Her first reaction was to laugh.

"Has she even blinked?" she asks between the cackles, standing in front of the couch and the table and the phone Yelena is still staring at.

Alexei shakes his head, Bob looks awfully guilty, Bucky shrugs and takes a sip of the drink he'd somehow acquired from the fully destroyed bar. Walker, ever the wise one to actually respond, sighs exasperatedly and lifts his arms: "It has been going on like this for hours! None of us could do anything."

Ava has finally gotten herself together and hums. "Well, you've seen better days," she gestures to the guy's cheek and his right arm he's still holding at an odd angle, "but seriously, a whole team of 'professionals' and none of you could even get an explanation out of her?"

There's awful silence that meets her words so Ava simply plops down on the couch opposite to Yelena's. It's uncomfortable, and they should really invest in new ones, she decides quickly.

"Yelena? What's up?" Ava asks. Not in a pitying way, not in a worried tone like the others. Just as if she was asking on a regular day and having a regular conversation, she takes on a slightly bored tone with an undertone of respect. She knows it's going to work.

Yelena opens her mouth presumably to respond but before she can get any words out, the phone rings, finally.

There's no caller ID, only two emojis: a purple heart and a bow. That's all they get to see before Yelena snatches the phone lightning-fast. She waits a few seconds not to seem too eager and then swipes the button to pick up the call.

The voice from the other end isn't particularly loud, only frantic, but the three supersoldiers standing around like confused puppies hear it as well as any.

"Yelena! Oh my god, hi. I saw you on the news and I thought, wow, I gotta check up on you because that was-"

"Kate Bishop," Yelena tries to interrupt. She starts walking towards the separate room at the back of the open floor space.

"-insane. I mean, you're an Avenger now? I thought you'd never follow after, you know, all that stuff with your sister and-"

"Kate," the use of only her first name makes the recipient shut up, "Were or are you in New York?"

With that, Yelena slams the door shut behind her.

It's quiet—eerily so.

Bucky squints his eyes at nothing in particular, trying to figure out why the name seemed so familiar. Alexei scratches his head with so much hurt and confusion it almost looks sad. Bob has seemingly given up and returned to his own little reading nook in front of the giant glass windows. Walker looks bothered, but doesn't he always. Ava is still seated on the couch, processing what the hell just happened.

And just as quickly as it went silent, everyone is suddenly yelling all over each other.

"Who's Kate Bishop?"

"Do we know her? Does Yelena know her?"

"Yelena has not told anything about this!"

"I think I've heard that name before somewhere..."

Without realizing, they've all gathered into a circle in the middle of the room—Bob included—talking with no actual conversation. It's Bucky who breaks them up and lifts his hand to silence the chatter. It works a little too well and he looks slightly embarrassed about it.

"Okay, so let's start with what we know about Yelena's friends," he begins, taking on a leading role like it's for a life saving mission.

Alexei's laugh booms in the room. "She does not have any, except for us," he says.

"That you know of," Ava mutters. "It's not like you've exactly kept in touch or anything."

Alexei blisters at that, ready to start a full-blown argument before he's rudely interrupted.

"I think this Kate could be from a secret organization that Yelena works for and is going to turn it against us. That's why she couldn't tell us," Walker says and puffs his chest confidently as if he'd just figured out the answer to the meaning of life.

"Oh my god," Bucky scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, Yelena's not working against us, idiot. Besides, I swear I've heard Sam talk about some Kate before. I just don't remember when or what context it was in."

"Could she be... her girlfriend?" Bob pipes up quietly. He looks contemplating, mouth slightly pursed and eyes focused. "I mean, I wouldn't go telling people I've just met that I'm dating someone."

"Lena would have told me," Alexei defends immediately. "What if I just search up this Kate Bishop person and-"

"No!" comes an unified cry from everyone around him.

"What? It would solve all this," Alexei scoffs and gestures vaguely with his hands.

"That would violate Yelena's privacy. I'm sure she'll tell us when or if she wants to," Ava says slowly like she's talking to a toddler.

Alexei hums in response, obviously still unhappy. He lets himself fall backwards and drops on the small, black, leather couch. "I guess we will have to just wait."

Ava follows suit, sinking into the spot Yelena had previously vacated on the couch opposite of Alexei. It's still slightly warm.

Bob shrugs and picks up his book again, only not returning to his original spot but sitting next to Ava instead.

Bucky opens the file still in his hand and tries to pretend to read it while conspicuously glancing at the door that had been closed only moments ago.

Walker opts to just pace around the floor in circles that form a meaningless pattern.

The quiet and attempting to look like they're not all trying to listen drags on for a long moment before the handle of the door finally clicks.

All heads are immediately turned to Yelena who stands there like a deer in headlights, phone still in hand.

"What? Was I not allowed to answer a call?" she asks defensively, holding her arms up.

"Who's Kate Bishop?" Ava, Alexei and Walker ask at the same time.

Yelena shakes her head. "No one."

"Well it had to be someone for you to wait in front of your phone for hours and then run off like someone's life was on the line," Ava points out with her arms crossed over her chest.

Yelena groans dramatically. "Ugh, this is why I do not do teams," she spits out with no real malice.

"Is it one of the kid Avengers?" Bucky guesses, and Yelena turns to look at him with well concealed surprise—if Bucky wasn't a spy, that is.

"Kate Bishop is not a child, nor is she yet an Avenger as far as I know," Yelena replies. She sounds like she definitely does not want to be a part of this conversation.

"Then who or what is she?" Bob asks, having finally put his book down.

Yelena takes a few deep breaths, analyzing all the accusing stares. "She is the protege of Clint Barton. I tried to kill Clint Barton and had to face her in the process. That is all you need to know," she says with a clipped tone.

"Wait, Clint?" Bucky stands up and looks at Yelena questioningly. "Why would you try to kill Clint?"

"Bucky, I was and still technically am an assassin. I was hired to go after him," Yelena looks at him pointedly. He nods and mumbles that it kind of makes sense.

"So you are friends with this Kate Bishop, yes?" Alexei asks, a slight hurt evident in his voice. He had been living under the impression that he knew all about his daughter, after all.

Yelena stays quiet for a few seconds that feel like an eternity. They're all expecting a sarcastic remark or a change of topic to brush it off completely.

"Yes, I am," Yelena finally says, voice calm and lacking any significant emotion. Damn spy training. "She is my friend," she repeats in a weird tone like it's the first time she's said it out loud. (Or like she doesn’t exactly mean it, but no one really pays attention to that.)

There are no judging eyes or comments like Yelena expected, only slightly surprised silence. She then clears her throat and announces:

"I am going on a trip to Iowa. Do not expect me in at least a few days, maybe a week or two."

And before anyone can even think about responding with how stunned to silence they are, Yelena is in the elevator and on her way down.

"...What's in Iowa?" Ava asks, looking around at the rest of them like they'd know any better.

find part two here

[duvetchico]

Write me karina mall date n I'll kiss u 👅👅👅

(Pretend I'm a male bird trying to seduce u into writing this)

mall rat

summary jimin’s boredom drags you out of your depression nest and into a mall date full of cuddly crimes, weird juice, and the slow realization that she’s your favorite person to suffer with.

genre fluff / crack / girlfriend brainrot

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

i hate birds especially when they're male so im only doing this for the ppl

masterlist.

it begins at war. well, not really. it begins with you horizontal on the couch for the fifth hour straight, remote lost somewhere under your ass, half-dead from whatever seasonal depression was cooking up this time.

jimin’s draped over your legs like a stylish barnacle, wearing her 'i’m up to no good’ hoodie (you knew because it was yours, stolen, and she only wore it when plotting). she’s scrolling through her phone aggressively, thumb tapping at light-speed.

“i’m bored,” she said.

“congrats.” you didn’t even look at her. you were emotionally and spiritually one with the couch.

“no like,” she huffed, dramatic as ever, “i-need-to-go-out-and-buy-things bored.”

“what the fuck,” you muttered. “you literally ordered six shirts last night.”

“yes. and now i wanna touch them in real life.”

“jimin i am in a state of complete and total sloth. i cannot mall. my body will evaporate under the fluorescent lights.”

she sat up fast, excited now, like a toddler who just saw a dog. “mall.”

“no.”

“mall.”

“absolutely not.”

“mall date.”

“no.”

“i’ll buy you that overpriced cinnamon pretzel you like.”

pause.

“...fuck.”

- jimin had her sunglasses on even though the sun was nonexistent. she was strutting in like she owned the food court. you were ten steps behind her, still waking up.

you looked like her tired little assistant. she looked like she was about to host a ted talk on how to seduce women in the cologne aisle.

“babe,” she called over her shoulder, “should we get matching tote bags?”

“should you stop financially ruining us?”

“that’s a no.”

- you weren’t even in the squishmallow store for ten seconds before she screamed, “LOOK, IT’S THE WEIRD TOAST ONE YOU LOVE.”

you tried to deny it. tried to act normal. but the squishmallow had eyes. and a smile. and you folded.

“you’re weak,” she said proudly, already buying it for you.

“you enable me.”

“and i’d do it again.”

you walked around the rest of the mall with a giant smiling piece of bread in your arms. at some point she took a photo of you and posted it on her story captioned “baby’s first loaf”

- you sat on the fitting room bench watching jimin do stupid little runway spins in outfits she had no intention of buying. she was narrating herself like it was a documentary:

“here we have the rare lesbian, hunting in her natural habitat… hunting for discounts.”

“jimin.”

“she spots her prey—an overpriced corduroy jacket. will she attack?”

“please shut up.”

“she attacks.”

you laughed against your will and she grinned so fucking smug.

- “try this,” jimin said, handing you a mystery cup of juice from some random vendor.

“what the hell is this?”

“i don’t know. it was free.”

you drank it. instantly wanted to curl up and die. “it tastes like grass and feet.”

“why is it spicy,” she whispered after sipping. “who puts ginger and feet in a drink??”

“capitalism.”

you both made matching disgusted faces and tossed it in the trash like war survivors.

- you were sitting side by side outside the mall now, sun setting, squishmallow between you, her head on your shoulder.

she was humming something dumb and playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

“today was nice,” she said, voice soft.

you hummed. “you dragged me out of the house like a hostage.”

“but did you die?”

“emotionally, yes.”

she giggled and kissed your cheek. “you love me.”

“shut up.”

“you do love me.”

“say it.”

“fine. i love you. now buy me ice cream or i’m taking the squishmallow hostage.”

“deal.”

[khaos-creator]

I was a kid, but I wasn’t clueless

Summary: Cub and Scar start a lighthearted fight and Mumbo freaks out, escaping the house after feigning some excuse

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65160961

~*~

Mumbo, Grian, Scar, & Cub were all hanging out in the living room of Scar's place.

Cub & Scar eventually began bickering about something, with no real heat behind it at all, just messing around. But that didn't stop Mumbo's anxiety from building.

He'd always been pretty bad with loud noises as it was, but fighting especially remained as a trigger for him since his young childhood. No matter how much he tried to logic his way out of his growing panic, nothing worked. His heart rate spiked and he could feel his thumping heart beat throughout his whole body.

The need to escape grew stronger as the minutes passed, his mind yelling at him to flee. The two "siblings" bickered for long enough that he had to excuse himself, saying he needed to step outside for a second as he tried to made it look like someone was messaging him.

He power walked to the front door, trying to seem as normal as possible. However, he didn't have the brain capacity to care a whole lot in the moment, as his panic screamed for him to escape as quickly as possible.

As soon as he opened the door and stepped through it, the cold air whooshed around him, shocking his body and temporarily slowing his quickened thoughts down a bit. He probably should have grabbed his coat on the way through though…

The panicked feeling in his chest remained, along with his now quicker breathing. He was usually ok with playful fights, even joining in himself. But apparently today was not one of those days.

Due to his sensitive hearing, he could still faintly hear the passionate debate from inside. He covered his ears, practically mirroring the way he had as a young child.

His family wasn't the most cohesive bunch in the world. It wasn't nearly as bad as some of his friends', but yelling was a common occurrence between his parents. He'd often have to sit there and wait out their arguments. The worst ones for him being in places he couldn't get away from, like in a car.

He hated it. Every time he was up late and heard their muffled voices getting progressively louder, every time he was in one of their conversations and it turned angry, every time there was a misunderstanding between them and it sparked a harsh argument.

Every time they yelled, he grew more scared. Not of them necessarily, they never directed anything towards him, he just hated the yelling. There had been once where he tried to speak up and stop their pointlessly long argument, but when a strong verbal correction was directed at him, he never tried again. He couldn't explain it then and he still can't now, but he just couldn't deal with fighting.

In his much younger years, he would cry as an argument, muffled through walls, continued. Questioning why they had to fight, why they thought that would get them anywhere, why they couldn't just talk it through normally.

He couldn't understand why people fought at all, especially over small things. It didn't make any sense, which really didn't help him at all. The unease of things you don't understand is truly a bitch.

He was thrown back into reality by the front door creaking open behind him. He quickly looked over his shoulder, looking up at the other person in slight fear before he realized who it was.

He took a deep, shaky breath and looked back away from the house, only now feeling the tears streaking down his cheeks from the frigid air. He hadn't cried about this in quite some time, so he grew embarrassed as Grian sat down beside him on the concrete steps. He turned his face away from his friend, blocking him from seeing his tearful face. Grian had already seen it briefly when Mumbo whipped around as he'd walked through the door, but Mumbo still hid anyway.

"What's going on, Mumbo?" Grian inched closer

"Nothing, I'm ok" he knew it wasn't going to be very convincing when he heard his own broken voice

"Don't cover it up," Grian leaned forward to actually look at Mumbo, "talk to me, Buttercup" his voice maintained a soft, comforting tone

Mumbo breathed out a little laugh at the nickname, he'd never expected it to stick around after "The Buttercups" disbanded, but the three actually still used it from time to time.

"I.." Mumbo started, then looked over at Grian, "I've told you about how my parents were when I was younger, right?"

Grian's mouth twitched to the side as he thought for a moment, "Mhm. They fought a bunch, yeah?"

Mumbo nodded, "Yeah. So because of that, I'll sometimes get panicked by fighting or raised voices," he paused and looked down at his hands, where he was picking at the skin from around his nails, "and even if I know it's all in good fun, it can still freak me out"

Grian continued to watch his friend, trying to get as many clues from his body language as possible. Mumbo's elf-like ears stay pinned back to listen to any noise that came from in the house. He glanced back at the house and it took a second but it finally clicked, "Cub and Scar.." he trailed off

Mumbo tensed up minutely, nodding in confirmation.

"Oh Mumbo, I'm sorry" Grian inched closer once again but this time he wrapped his arms around the taller man, "I didn't know stuff like that bothered you"

The vampire tensed at first, but quickly relaxed and sighed heavily, leaning against his avian friend, "I'm usually ok with playful stuff, but today was just different for some reason"

Grian wraps his wings around them, in a protective and gentle way, while making small noises to try and help calm his friend. He also noticed that Mumbo hadn't taken his coat with him and was now shivering, so he tried to block as much of the cold wind as he could as well as fluffing up his feathers to keep the warmth in.

Mumbo closed his eyes and rested his head on top of his friend's.

Grian's soothing chirps and purrs gave him a lifeline to hold onto as he tried his best to breathe in the 4-7-8 pattern he'd learned for this kinda thing. And it's only in the warmth and comfort of Grian's arms that his panic finally begins to ease.

[bwoahtastic]

What I think sickfic dynamic would be in the tattoo verse:

Max is sick

Oscar: sits in bed with him and sketches while max lays his head on Oscar’s lap and pretends he’s just resting his eyes for a moment. Oscar will get up every hour or so and make a pot of tea for himself knowing full well max will drink half of it.

Charles: dressed up in a sexy nurse costume and mother hens max until max is bullied into bed to “escape” Charles being annoying. He also threatens to call every single one of max’s appointments for the next week an cancel if max doesn’t take his medicine.

Lando: is a little shy and unsure, listens to max’s grumbling too much and let’s max scare him away until max comes slinking back to him.

Lando is sick

Oscar: is the the one to call in sick for lando because the bakery is his first love and as much as everyone will give max shit for not taking a break lando can be just as bad. Makes lando take his medicine which is more of an ordeal than it should be because he hates the taste of anything that doesn’t come in gummy form.

Charles: tries his hardest to make lando laugh because he doesn’t like that when lando’s sick he tends to go quiet and self contained and also because he swears that laughter is the best medicine (to which Oscar says that medicine is the best medicine).

Max: is an absolute fusser despite hating it when he’s sick, especially with lando because he has a routine now with Charles and Oscar, knows what they need but with lando he’s still working it out which results in a lot of nervous hovering and a lot of cooking.

Charles is sick

Oscar: will depending on how sick Charles is (he does love being dramatic and can be a bit of a hypochondriac) Oscar will either set up a little art space for them and they’ll paint together quietly or Charles will drape himself dramatically over the couch/bed/oscars lap and ask to be doodled on.

Lando: brings him back sweet treats from the cafe but more importantly brings back all the gossip, the thing Charles hates most is being out of the loop so lando coming home with detailed notes about every silly thing that happened makes him so happy.

Max: will tempt needle (the cat) into laying on top of Charles, normally needle doesn’t spend all the much time with Charles honestly because he’s usually always on the move but max is needles favourite person so needle will curl up on Charles chest while max curls himself around Charles. He also force feeds Charles green juice and vitamin boosters because he doesn’t think Charles has willingly eaten a vegetable maybe ever.

Oscar is sick

Lando: will run a bath for Oscar then sit next to him and yap his ear off about anything, new recipes he’s been trying, what him and Charles are planning for the weekend, literally anything all while tracing along oscar’s tattoos

Max: will make Oscar the chicken soup his mom used to make him when he was young (recipe directly from Nicole), he brings one of his gaming monitors into the bedroom so Oscar can stay lying down and they marathon cheesy 2000s romcom’s until Oscar (and Sometiems max) falls alseep

Charles: makes Oscar a little care package with a bunch of hydrolyte, essential oils that Charles swears by (lando will use them in the bath’s he makes for Oscar), some new herbal tea he had imported despite not liking tea himself, he also included a new flavoured lube and condoms which he slipped in totally by accident.

Pls i love long asks like this😭😭

Sick Max:

Plss Osc knowing how annoyingly independent Max tries to be even when he isnt feeling good! Pls Max just miserable, head in Oscar's lap as Oscar doodles and Max rasps out comments and nnggg Osc pretending to make tea for himself while it's really for Max!!! My babies 😭

Charles in his little nurse outfit skdkd I mean Max appreciates the view bur Charles is a little bit annoying so Max goes to hide in his room (or maybe in osc's?) And falls asleepcin bed just as Charles hoped!

Lando being unsure how to help Max but Max really wants Lando close? Yeah he grumbles and rolls his eyes, but he keeps going back to Lando, wanting him cuddled close!!

Lando

Plss osc making sure everyone knows Lando isnt coming into work and maybe helping find someone to cover cos Lando is the boss but also too feverish to be calling around his staff rn. And lando hating medication so much, he doesn't like the flavors but also maybe he is very bad at swallowing pills? But osc is patient and will make it work somehow!!

Lando being so quiet and unsure when he isnt feeling good, and Charles hates it! Charles tones down the chaos but does his very best to make Lando laugh, and also just hangs around to keep him company as much as possible!

Max would be such a fusser omg!! He isn't sure how to help lando but there is a LOT of baking and cooking involved and maybe he helps at the bakery for a few hours to cover for Lando? Cute grumpy man!

Charles

Plss Oscar being so patient with Charlie! Sometimes Charles just gets in his head about smthn or maybe he does get colds quite often and hates it! Pls the two of them painting and drawing and when charlws is really not feeling good, Oscar draws patterns on Charles's skin? Pls so cute and Charles will love them+

Lando coming with sweet treats and drinks and all the gossip of the day (he made notes, it was a lot!) And Charles loves listening to it all so he feels like he didn't actually miss out on anything!!

Plss Max getting Needle the cat to snuggle Charles because Needle doesn't mind Charles, it's just that Charles moves roo much most of the time lol. But Max for sure is Needle's fav human (sorry osc) so Needle can be convinced to snuggle with them both if Max asks! Also Max forcefeeding Charles smoothies and veggies, but giving him many kisses as reward too to make it better!

Oscar

Pls baths helping Osc so much when he isnt well? And Lando sits with him just yapping away and tracing Osc's tattoos and gently helping wash his hair! It's the only time osc let's himself be pampered!

Plss Max making Nicole's chicken soup (Oscar is a little afraid hearing Max snd his mum are in contact but okay) and watching bad movies used to be their thing when one of them was feeling iff? And now they have their two chaotic partners but it's still nice to fall asleep together watching dumb movies!

Pls Charles going home with a foil wrapped basket full of goodies for Osc! A lot of electrolytes and teas, bur also essential oils and OOP the lubes are just an accident but maybe sex will make him feel better!

[chaconnehoon]

⟢ Convient store

— Nishimura Riki x Reader ( fem )

Strangers to friends

Genre: fluff, angst (?)

( 📝 ) note. from chaconnehoon

Enjoy!

© All rights reserved chaconnehoon do not copy.

GAPS! **

You woke up with a sudden bolt. Your heartbeat going a thousand miles per hour, you put your hands where your heart was, after the sudden bolt. A thin layer of sweat could be seen on your forehead, soon a migraine followed, and you began to get back all your five senses.

To your right, you took a look, at the clock. It showed " 3:00 AM ", this was your afternoon time. Now normal people would be confused about how that could be your afternoon. No, you’re not a vampire, you’re just a hypersomnia person.

If you don’t know what that means, in short, it’s someone who sleeps a lot. Way more than the average human being and the norm. The opposite of insomnia yk? Back to the story. After your heartbeat calmed down you ran a hand through your hair. Which wasn’t easy since it’s was tangled from the tossing and turning.

But this is normal for you, since you were little, from a very young age, you have been diagnosed with hypersomnia. You slept and slept and slept. That’s what your whole life has been like. Sometimes people are born that way.

With some others it runs in the family, just like for me. Anyway, you got up groggy and went to your bathroom to do your daily routine, got dressed and went out. You didn’t have the ingredients for the breakfast you wanted. So you’re going to get it at the 24h stores.

About 10 min later, I was at the seven up store sipping on some coffee and some snacks sitting in front of me on my table. Untouched. I thought to myself: " I should stop sleeping so much, fight against the sleep! " but that never really worked. Because ten minutes later I would be dozing off.

While munching on my sandwich, the door opened and someone walked in. It was a boy, he was tall and lean and was dressed in clothes I could only dream to afford. The chrome hearts really suited him. Along with silver accessories sitting prettily on his neck,ears and fingers.

" Yo Riki, nice to see you again. It’s been awhile! " the cashier said. So Riki is his name? Pretty name for a pretty boy, or should I say handsome man?? Idk. Riki responded. " Yeah I had to go to Japan to see my fam you know. " he was cut off.

" Damn so how did Soomin react to it? I know she’s a lot to handle. " the cashier said. Soomin? A girlfriend? Omd and here I am crushing on a dude who already has a gf. Stupid Y/N, Stupid Y/N!! " No I didn’t tell her. You know how she acts, always so protective of me. "

" But that’s because she loves you Riki, you’re technically her little brother. She doesn’t want you to tire yourself out. " he patted his shoulders and went back to do his work when clients came in. Riki had already paid and left. When he passed you, something fell out of his pockets.

It was a little figurine, you saw it but was unsure if you should go get it or leave it. By the time you made up your mind, he was already long gone. A missed chance that’s what you call it. You put the little figurine in your bag and continued with your day. Or should I say night?

few weeks later*

It was another day, another day where you would wake up at early hours. Instead of going outside, today or tonight (?), you decided to finish up some work. Your boss is kind enough to let you work at home since she knows about your condition so you always make sure that work is done and done on time.

After all, that’s what pays the bills, when you were about to finish the last paper. Your eyes grew tired. " no not again " you plead, maybe to yourself, maybe to no one at all. You grabbed your keys, throw on a jacket and dashed outside. You wanted to get an energy drink, one of the few drinks that helps with staying up longer.

Keyword, longer, not as much as needed. But regardless, your eyes were starting to sting because you were getting sleepy again. Even tho you shouldn’t. You quickly grabbed 4 or 5 or more drinks. Just to keep you awake and dashed back to your apartment. You opened one filled your throat with everything. Not wasting a single drop.

You didn’t want to sleep in the streets like previous times. " Almost there! " you thought. You only had to make 2 turns and go forward and you would be at your apartment. But suddenly darkness, complete darkness.

____ H__o?

______hi

The sound got louder

And then-

GASPS**

" Wow Wow, calm down okay? " a male voice said. You turned in shock towards the blonde male in front of you. You suddenly got up and grabbed the nearest object next you ( which was a lamp ) and started attacking him.

" Wait! OW STOP! Put it down! Put it down. " he said while grabbing your hand and putting the lamp away. " Who are you? What are you doing in my room?! " you yelled and he chuckled. " Your room? Hahaha " he laughed. That’s when you started noticing your surroundings.

It was a a dark blue themed room, with posters of rappers and dancers and skateboards. And a LOT of figurines. He even got the limited edition hirono’s. I cleared my throat and spoke.

" How did I get here, please. " staying respectful. " well I came back from a friends house and saw you knocked out on the ground. I didn’t know where you lived and felt like leaving you alone there wasn’t a good idea neither sooo "

" So that’s how I ended up here. Right? " he nodded and I sighed. This is not okay, I am really going to run in danger one day. I looked at the boy and I recognized him. It was Riki, from the store. This made me feel less scared.

" Sorry, I have hypersomnia. So I-

" It’s okay, I understand trust me. I have the complete opposite. I had insomnia since I was a little and it was draining. At first but I learned to live with it. " he said. I could feel him, feel his emotions. I was always told I was emotionally intelligent.

" Are you hungry? Or do want a drink? " he asked and I immediately remember the energy drinks I goggled down my throat earlier. " No thank you, I had enough drinks for today. And my tummy isn’t feeling good right now. "

I said while gently patting my tummy. He laughed and I did too. I then looked back at the figurines, I recognized the ones I wanted. Riki caught me and he went to go get two of them. " I got these gifted, by a friend. His name is Jungwon. He said they looked like both of us. "

He then took his phone out of his pockets and showed me a pic of them. It was him and his friends and next to his phone sat the figurines. His friend was right they do look like them. " I see the resemblance. It’s cute! "

I said and got shy. " Thank you, Jungwon would LOVE to hear about this. Now that I remember, I don’t think I got your name. " " It’s Y/N! And you? ( even tho you already knew ). " " Riki for you ms Y/N! " he said and I smiled.

" Let’s exchange contacts if that’s okay with you. You seem nice Y/N. " he said while grabbing your hand. You could see some red going to his ears and cheeks, you thought it was cute. Taking out his phone again, you nodded and gave him your phone number.

That’s how a wholesome friendship ( or more ) started.

These are the pics and the figurines btw



[toolonely1]

Someone (@ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs, thank you soooo much for letting me write this, I had so much fun with it) mentioned the marauders as Minecraft YouTubers, and… why does it work so well??? Also, Peter doesn’t exist in this one (at least he’s not in their Minecraft world) because I said so, sorry to the Peter apologists out there.

Like Remus 100% is a redstone guy, he loves learning how to make the game more efficient. I also think he found the game by accident. He was doom-scrolling YouTube one night, and he saw this video of a guy explaining the basics of the game. Intrigued, he downloaded it to see what was up, and oh, he found out. His gamertag is definitely “moony” like be so fr, he didn’t have the energy to be clever, and it’s not like he made his account expecting to become some famous YouTuber or anything. Very quickly, Remus found ways to improve the game, and he felt the need to show people his discoveries. So, he started his career by posting these short videos on how to automate a chicken farm or something, and it just spiraled from there. People start watching his videos about his new ideas, like mob farms or like elevators (before bubble elevators were a thing), and they just fall in love. Oh! He definitely has a feral fan base (all the boys do), there’s just something about his nerdy vibe that gets the girlies going crazy even though they don’t know what he looks like. Because Remus would not have a face cam, he’s really big on his privacy, obviously (he knows about the dangers of the internet), but it’s also his insecurities getting to him. He’s scared that he’ll spook his fans away if they saw his scars, so he actively avoids any comments about how he looks irl. we also know how fans react to a faceless youtuber, they loveee to fantasize about what he looks like, amd like his voicve doesnt help at all (I mean it's so dreamy). every ine is still really supportive of his choice t be faceless, there have been a few who tried to find his identity but the overprotective og fans shut that down pretty quickly. Also also, speaking of looks, his skin is definitely a werewolf head wearing a jumper and jeans, Sirius and James spent a whole day at the computer designing the skin for him (this is before they joined the game, they’re were just so proud of their moony for doing this and wanted to support him the best they could) and Remus didn’t have it in him to change it (especially when they were practically buzzing with excitement to show him). 

Now, as for Sirius, I feel like he would be the builder of the group. I imagine him walking by Remus on the computer one day and seeing the catastrophe that was his world, and like having to fix it. That’s actually how he was introduced to YouTube. Remus was filming a video at the time, and his mic caught Sirius’s rant about color schemes and attention to detail, so when the video came out, Remus's fans begged to get more content with this new personality. It took some time for Sirius to actually start making videos; he wanted to learn how the game worked first (I mean, he wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of thousands of people). But once Sirius figured out the controls and the majority of the basics, he made his first real appearance on Remus’s channel. The video was a normal Moony video, just somewhere in the middle of explaining how he got the idea for a piston door and him explaining how he built it, in came this emo character (I’m thinking 2012 emo hair, band tee with a paw print, and ripped black jeans) named “padfoot” (Remus was already moony so he might as well have stuck with the theme). He wasn’t really in the video. Remus only made a passing comment on how “pads did promise to make the world pretty for you guys, you should check it out,” and everyone was hooked. It didn’t take that long for people to find his channel, starting with Remus’s fans who were happy for more content, but he did start gaining his own audience, too. People were definitely attracted to Sirius’s attitude (especially when he would grumble about his neighbor's advice experiments ruining his aesthetic) and his building style. I think Sirius tried to stay faceless as long as possible, but at some point, Sirius couldn't take it anymore, so he made a public insta (making sure to keep Remus out of it, he respects his friends' privacy) for his fans. Everyone went CRAZY when they saw how hot he was, like the fanfics came at an ungodly speed.

James really only joined the game due to his crazy case of fomo. Multiple days would he be looking for his roommates (because they are definitely roommates in this au) for someone to hang out with, only to walk by Remus’s room to see him on the computer talking to his fans, then to go the Sirius’s room to see the same thing. He spent a week pouting before Sirius and Remus invited him to join their fun. You should have seen the speed James had when he ran to the closest computer and set up an account. And that’s how “Prongs,” the character wearing a red and gold jersey, joined the world, completing the Marauders, which the fans loved to refer to the group as (they heard James refer to them as it in a video, and they were ecstatic to have a name for their favorite group of YouTubers). James, unlike Sirius, started his YouTube journey by learning the game. His first video, titled “You Can’t Hide Minecraft From Me, What is Minecraft?”, involved James running around the world, confused as ever. He cried when he saw a creeper for the first time. Fans loved watching James learn this game with them, it was a great change in pace from his two friends, who (they love and would never complain about) were goated at the game and instead see this himbo sob in a dirt hut. James’s fan base very quickly realized that he was not going to be this evolutionary Minecrafter who would change the game for the better, more than he was the personality hire (their words, not mine) that Remus and Sirius would spend way too much energy keeping alive. James didn't necessarily want to be a faceless YouTuber or show his face, but a few weeks after making his own Insta, Sirius posted a picture with James, and he went with it. After some begging from Sirius and his fans (people went crazy knowing the himbo in Minecraft was also a himbo irl), James went and made a profile for Prongs. He doesn't post much, but he is constantly tagged in posts by Sirius.

Everyone loved the dynamic between the Marauders: they had the brains, the beauty, and James. They tried to stay in Remus's og world as long as possible, but at some point, it couldn't keep up with all the updates, so they had to say goodbye to that one and make a new one. Fans were very upset about the end to this era until they realized they were going to be able to watch the Marauders build a new place from the ground up with all their knowledge. Watching Remus and Sirius combine their collective strengths to make all of James's wacky ideas into the coolest base known to the Minecraft world was so cool. I also feel like the boys avoid creativity like the plague. Remus feels like it's cheating, and the other two listen to him. Sirius will only use it when absolutely necessary, when a build is giving him a hard time and he like has to map it out.

[chaoticbasicallyuselessbisexual]

Your Miracle brought you to me, but it is my Faith that'll make you stay

based on this post by @colorlessjay

second part of the bonus

i wrote this in a trance, i have no idea what this even obtains

go crazy

☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆

Castiel was going crazy.

As in he was absolutely losing his shit.

Dean had been, for lack of a better expression, a pain in his ass.

The dude was constantly judging the general state of his home, and Castiel just about had it.

The first thing that Dean got to silently judge were Castiel's cups. Nobody gets to judge Castiel's cups without suffering the consequences. So when Dean asked, whether he had any "normal mugs," he could drink his morning coffee out of Castiel was set on revenge.

When Dean asked him for a set of bedsheets that same first day he moved in (and insulted his cups), Castiel told him with all the seriousness of a burnt out university professor that he has only one set, and therefore cannot give anything to Dean. He was more than happy to see the way Dean tried to contain his frustration. (He didn't do a very good job.)

(What Dean obviously didn't know was that Cas had more than one set of bedsheets. He had three exact same sets. The reason for this was mundane, even though he could technically have one set and live (and he seriously considered having just one set) he was also terrified that something would happen and his bed sheets would catch on fire, so he wanted to be prepared and have a spare. Dean didn't need to know that, though.)

Also, why was Dean complaining about his computer? Seriously. That was so not cool, Dean should be honestly ashamed. What's wrong with it anyway? So it's a bit bigger than the flat things people buy nowadays. That just means it's less likely to break.

And if Dean thinks Castiel missed the nasty glances he sent towards his rotoped, he was very wrong. Though, to be completely fair, Castiel couldn't care less about that thing, so he wasn't really that bothered.

(When he called Gabriel the next week, he told him that there is one more person in this world that hates the rotoped, and he should come and get it back, since it's obviously a waste of space in his already small house and Dean hates it.)

He ignored all this, though, because there was something he couldn't just ignore. Maybe he really was going crazy. He was surely imagining things because Dean was looking at him.

Like really looking at him.

Really, really looking at him, as in he looked at Castiel all quizically when he was just eating his breakfast. As if he was thinking that having last night's leftovers for breakfast was beneath Castiel. It didn't feel exactly judgemental, more concerned. It felt like Dean was taking a mental note of everything Cas ate, almost as if to see if he was eating properly.

Castiel felt Dean's eyes on him when he walked out the door each morning to go to work. He swore he could almost read Dean's mind, too.

(Are you taking care of yourself?)

He saw how Dean inspected his face, grimacing slightly every time he looked at the bags under Castiel's eyes.

(Have you slept at all tonight?)

He felt almost naked whenever he moved around Dean, his eyes never leaving Castiel alone. Castiel knew, nearly felt it, that even if Dean wasn't directly looking at him, he knew where he was, where he went. Every slight movement was noticed by the other man.

Maybe it should've felt creepy. Maybe Castiel should've been scared. But not once did he feel like Dean meant him harm. There was always this slight crease in between his brows as he drew them together. Concern. Worry.

It didn't help Castiel's growing crush on the guy.

Would it be too cliche to say my world tilts on its axis when I see how he looks at me?

Maybe a bit dramatic, for his world only slightly stumbled whenever he found himself looking into Dean's green eyes. Time seemed to stop, and Castiel was drowning. There was no right, no wrong, just the way Dean looked at him. The way he considered him, as if he were trying to crack a riddle. Castiel felt bare under that stare, so he did what any sensible person would do.

Start avoiding Dean.

It wasn't that hard, really. Castiel's mornings were still packed, and he still did get up earlier than Dean. He started spending even more time in the afternoons playing with Faith. Spend as little time with food as possible. He ate mostly takeout anyway. Avoid Dean's room. Unless he had to wash his clothes, he was fine with that, too. And Dean didn't seem to mind.

Castiel wasn't blind, though. Even though he spent most of his time avoiding Dean, he still noticed how the other man behaved.

He noticed how Dean was almost constantly on edge, as if he was waiting for something to go wrong any minute. Castiel noticed how Dean flinched at loud noises, hand immediately going to his waist, as if reaching for a gun. He noticed how he never turned his back on doors or windows, always on alert, almost as if he was waiting for something to attack him. Or someone. He noticed the scars on Dean's arms. Scars from scratches and bites, as if he were taming wild animals all his life.

Just once, Castiel saw Dean shirtless. It was one of the now rare hot days, as summer was slowly morphing into autumn. Dean walked into the living room, shirt in hand, complaining about the temperature. There were long, deep scars covering Dean's torso, the biggest one going from his ribs all the way to the top of his pants, beneath which it clearly continued. There was a scar on his back that seemed to be from a stab wound. On his shoulder, from the front and the back, was a scar after a bullet wound - where it entered and where it went out through Dean's shoulder.

Castiel tried not to stare.

He never asked about the scars. He was much too afraid of the answer.

(Is he dangerous? Should I leave now, while I can? Did something happen to him? Was he a soldier? Was he a victim?)

He noticed how Dean couldn't sleep much, either pacing in the house all night or waking up in the middle of the night with muffled screams. He saw how erratic Dean was, always running on just a few hours of sleep. Just enough to keep him going, just enough to keep him sane.

(Castiel listened with bated breath as Dean begged for mercy in his sleep. He couldn't bring himself to get up and wake Dean up. He listened as Dean cried to be rather killed. He listened as he begged for them to spare Sammy.)

It took him a month to gather the confidence to go and get Dean a sack of lavender and to put it secretly under Dean's pillow. He would never admit to putting a small silver spiral into the sack of lavender - something his aunt swore would help with the nightmares.

'What happened, dear? Why are you suddenly having nightmares?'

I don't know, he told her.

The screaming almost stopped after that.

(Castiel still barely slept, listening, ready to call his aunt again, if he heard any.)

It was that same week when Castiel found the paper bag at the kitchen table.

The paper bag with a sandwich packed inside.

The paper bag with his name on it.

Castiel had to catch himself on a chair, or the way he stumbled would've sent him to the ground.

("for Cas" was written on the yellow sticky note, and Castiel almost cried. And if he kept the little sticky note, he never told anyone, but Dean.)

☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆

Castiel spent all day thinking about a way to thank Dean. His boss asked him if he was okay and whether he needed to go home early that day.

(All his coworkers shared a collective confused look. Doesn't he look enamoured?)

How was he supposed to thank Dean? A simple thank you seemed trivial, as if he didn't really appreciate Dean's effort. Dean had to get up earlier than he had to, all just to make Castiel food. Is this what roommates do for each other? Does Dean consider Castiel his friend? Should Castiel make something for Dean in return? Is he overthinking this? Could he hug Dean when he tells him his thank you's?

He was shaking when he walked home that day. He ate the sandwich at work (and if it was the best sandwich he ever had nobody knew) and was now filled with anxiety upon how to thank Dean without making a fool of himself. He kept on repeating the little speech he prepared in his mind, fearing he would forget it.

(Thank you for packing me lunch today. I know you had to get up earlier than you usually would, I really appreciate it. The sandwich was really good. Did your mom teach you? Really, thank you. Thank you for thinking of me.)

The moment he looked into Dean's green wondering eyes, he forgot everything he wanted to say. His mind spiralled with deep forests and moss covered ground that would be soft under his bare feet, a little damp, a little bit cold. He saw the forest covered in mist, mysterious, dark, dangerous, and oh so easy to get lost in. He saw how the mist dissipated into nothing and the forest now bathed in sunlight, Castiel with it. He looked into Dean's eyes, and he felt the warm glow of autumn sun, as its light ran along each and every leaf of each and every tree, and suddenly, Castiel was warm from the sunlight. He looked into Dean's eyes and saw the world.

"Thank you for the sandwich."

Castiel would then go for a hug, only to stop himself at the last possible second and turn on his feet to run away.

The next day, Castiel found another paper bag with a sticky note with his name on it.

(And if he teared up and smiled like he hadn't in a long while, nobody had to know.)

(And if Dean stayed up to see his reaction, nobody had to know his heart beat a little faster either.)

☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆

It quickly became a habit. Cas would take Faith for her morning walk, Dean would prepare breakfast for the two of them (and for Faith also) and packed a lunch for Castiel. Then they would eat together, and Castiel would rush for work.

Castiel noticed how Dean watched him eat. He was almost glowing anytime Cas gave a compliment to something. Castiel noticed how Dean remembered what he liked, too. He noticed how Dean made certain foods more often, when Cas complimented them, or how he seemed to know when Cas didn't like something.

It took a week for this to "be their thing". Just like it took another two weeks for movie nights to also "be their thing".

Castiel was ready to accept this as a new thing they did together. Get up, eat breakfast with Dean, listen to him talk about his brother and dad (it took Castiel a while to piece together that who Dean called Bobby was not his biological father), tell a few stories of his own, and rush to work. There was no reason to stop avoiding Dean; he just had to get used to the way Dean was close to him now.

Get used to the way he leaned closer while telling a story. Get used to the way his eyes followed every line and crease on Castiel's face when he laughed together with Dean. Get used to the way Dean asked if he wanted more coffee. (How does he know how to make my coffee?) Get used to the way Dean's name rolled off his tongue like a confession. Of what Castiel didn't know, maybe he didn't want to know.

So he kept on avoiding Dean. Eat breakfast with him, try not to stare into his eyes like they hold all the answers to the universe, and get on with his day. Which proved to be rather difficult when he walked up to Dean one Friday afternoon and offered they watch a movie together. Dean could choose which one; he didn't really care all that much.

(I want to know you.)

When Dean put on some old spaghetti western, Castiel almost laughed. He didn't know what he was expecting, but cowboys weren't it. Upon seeing the huge smile on Dean's face, his laughter died down. In its place now a fond smile, he couldn't seem to get rid of.

(And when, by the second week of their shared movie nights, Dean started moving closer to him, no one had to know it made Castiel feel warm inside.)

☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡. :*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆*: .｡.:*☆

That day, Castiel was feeling his worst. Nothing went right all day. (Except for his breakfast with Dean.) He spilled his drink all over himself at work, someone took his food from the fridge (a chicken sandwich made by Dean - the very same thing he had made for him that first time), and ate it without any apology. He came home to Faith and Dean, drained and overstimulated. When he scratched Faith behind her ears, he looked up at Dean, and he could cry. He tried so hard to keep everything to himself, to manage everything by himself, and still he felt like he couldn't do anything quite right.

Dean looked back at him, silent and understanding. Without a word, he came towards Castiel and took his coat from him, his bag, put them both to their respective place and silently lead him to the kitchen.

Castiel almost didn't notice how carefully Dean held his hand in his own. Almost.

Without asking, without saying anything, Dean got to cooking. Castiel quietly sat in the kitchen, slowly stroking Faith's big head that now lay in his lap. He wouldn't have noticed Dean had set a plate with food in front of him if Dean hadn't told him.

When Castiel started paying attention to his surroundings again, he found that the food Dean had made for them that evening was his comfort food.

"How did you-"

"You should eat, Cas, before it gets cold."

Castiel never believed in miracles, but when he looked at Dean, he had to admit it to himself.

Dean was a miracle to him.

And that was the thing, he had Faith. (No miracles, no lucky charms, no miraculous escapes or divine attention. He only ever believed. He believed his brother that he should get an animal companion. He believed he could live through the next day, too. He may have never had a Miracle. But between the two of them, he kept Faith for both of them.)

"I love you."

And when Dean looked at him, the world fell back into its place.

[windvexer]

Some writings I've come across seem to almost imply that you might wind up in a witch-flight induced coma.

I think people DO imply this. I have heard and experienced some very wild, miracle-level things in magic. Is it technically possible? Sure, maybe. But does it happen? No, I don't think it happens. You know what I mean?

For woozy/feeling too much like I didn't fully emerge from that space, eating something is often my go-to to reground immediately after coming back

It really helps me to wiggle my fingers and toes before I get up! I kind of imagine that my spirit body is a snap-on lid with lots of little snaps, and it has to snap carefully back onto my fingers and toes. This helps me feel really re-aligned. But unless I'm immediately going to sleep for the night, then eating and drinking works wonders. I think this is probably a very common experience.

I don't always do magic directly addressing it, but the care and magic hygiene I normally do anyways while I'm being more active in my practice seems to iron it out.

I think most of the solution is really just like that. If something *does* happen then a normal, healthy routine of magical hygiene and self-care tends to just fix it. So I do think some accidents and problems can happen but they're really not all as dangerous as they're usually cracked up to be. It's just that 1 in 1000 that's a pain to resolve, but could have been easily prevented with a protection amulet or something. (Another reason why I focus a lot of preventative measures)

I think I get hung up on whether I should be hanging onto physical items, like a charm, and that I'm somehow missing something when I have almost entirely non-physical security systems.

My only thoughts on this is that magic grounded into physical objects is therefore not grounded into your spirit body or waystation. So if something disastrous occurred where protections in your waystation failed, the physical amulet wouldn't be impacted because its roots are buried elsewhere. So physical amulets in this case I think would be moreso a failsafe.

Or that I'm not being more cautious about where I go, even with decent security systems in place…which is very possible.

Personally I say the proof is in the pudding... if you're running into minor events every now and then that are taken care of with normal magical hygiene and typical routines then I'd hazard that there's no real issue!

I just read an interesting post about someone who specifically practices witch-flight. I've been doing something similar if not identical in nature for years, but tbh reading other people slap warnings about losing pieces of yourself, getting lost, or needing some protective charm on your person before heading into the Otherworld has me probably looking like the most reckless witch ever. I mean, I have a "waystation" that I return to, and I use it at the end not only as a return point, but to check myself for hangers-on, re-ward, or cleanse before fully coming back. My protection otherwise is the presence of my familiar and rarely anything else. If I'm feeling anxious every once in a while, I throw some oil blends with protective qualities into the bath I'm likely floating in.

I suppose my question is: what do others mean by the specific dangers of witch-flight/hedgeriding/etc when they say things like "getting lost" or "getting hurt?" I definitely get the notion of things following you or clinging to you if you're not careful, but is the worry about metaphysical pieces of ourselves that won't return with us? Warnings about leaving the body itself unattended without protection implies some vague threat there as well. What are the visible signs post-flight--the symptoms, if you will--that even tell us something has happened? (The post I was reading mentioned something like lethargy and wooziness if they didn't wait and check for all the pieces of themselves to regroup before returning.) If you screw up, how do you do damage control or restore yourself?

I have my ideas of the answers just from my own experience and some informed guesses, but I've never directly asked, especially given the gravity sometimes heaped upon the potential dangers. I'm curious what others have in their own heads.