#i tried so hard to see it that way but it was just not happening for me

[muwapsturniolo]

...Looks pretty 𐙚 C. Sturniolo

"Answer me or I stop."

✘ NSFW content ahead, fingering, mutual play, exhibitionism (?), the girls might as well be lesbians!

@bernardsbendystraws pov for doll is in the title!!

Bun was scared, her stomach in the pits of hell.

Her, Doll, Chris, and Matt had decided to sit in the living room and watch a movie. Nick would have been with them, but he had work meetings to attend, so the four were on their own.

Each couple were in their own world, curled up on opposite couches and watching 'Planet of the apes'. However, Chris and Matt had their own plans.

The two males knew how close their girls were to each other, in fact, they were too close to each other. The girls would cuddle with each other, change in front of each other, and sometimes even kissing eachother.

It's like they were attached at the hip - Like they were in a relationship.

So Matt and Chris decided to test how close they really were, as well as show the girls who they belonged to.

Chris eyes Bunny, watching her eyes dart across the tv, reading the subtitles quickly so she won't miss the action on the screen. He looks to Matt, giving him a subtle nod before starting to rub Buns thigh. The girl thinks nothing of it, used to Chris always touching her in some way.

She loved it, she loved affection - his affection.

However, what she didn't love was the way his hand started to sneak up her thigh and down the front of her frilly shorts, the same shorts Doll was currently wearing. She tenses and tries to pull his hand away, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. She hears Chris snickering softly. She may be sitting in front of him, but she could just see the smirk making it's way onto his face.

"Chris-" she hisses softly, her eyes darting to Doll and Matt, hoping they didn't see or hear what was going on.

He ignores her and simply spreads her folds apart and begins toying with her clit. Her eyes flutter shut before she snaps them open, trying to look inconspicuous.

She couldn't believe she was letting this happen, she felt bad - sort of.

The situation was ludicrous yet exciting, the idea of her boyfriend fingering her while her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend were just a few feet away, made her embarrassingly wet. The idea of being caught, maybe even having them watch, made her brain go fuzzy and her walls flutter.

She finds it hard to stay quiet, biting her lip and constantly clearing her throat.

"Y-You ok B-Bun?"

Bunny's head snaps to Doll, her eyes wide thinking she had been caught. She tries to get away with nodding, but Chris doesn't let her, asking her another question as he speeds up his assault on her puffy and aching clit.

"Yeah Bun, you ok?" Her breath hitches as he whispers in her ear, his breath warm.

"Answer me Bunny, or I stop."

"I-I'm goo-" Her jaw drops open as Chris pushes two fingers into her aching hole, immediately curling them against that spot that makes her turn into a mess. Her fingers harshly grip at Chris's arm, trying to stop herself from moaning out loud.

However, as soon as she hears a soft moan falling from Doll's lips, she allows her own to follow. It became clear what was going on, both boys forcing the girls to participate in exhibitionism. She couldn't even be mad, it was something so taboo yet so exciting.

Now not having to hide what was happening or what she was feeling, Bunny throws her head back onto Chris’s shoulder, closing her eyes and gyrating her hips to match the quick yet lazy movements of his fingers. 

“M-Matt!”

Bunny’s eyes snap open hearing Dolls voice, her focus now on her. 

She looked so pretty.

Her face scrunched, her lips in a soft pout, the way her nipples poked through the tight fabric of her tanktop. 

It was an erotic sight.

She’d never tell the other three, but the sight of her best friend being pleasured was enough to send her over the edge.

“Come on Bun, let go f’me.”

Chris pants into her ear, his own orgasm approaching. Her walls flutter around Chris’s finger, her moans going up in pitch. Chris groans lowly as he feels her wetness seep through the material of his sweatpants, his dick twitching softly. 

Both girls lay against their respective boyfriends, panting softly and high off of their orgasms, their minds racing with thoughts about what just happened. 

Chris and matt look to each other, confirming what they already knew with a silent nod.

Both girls were more than comfortable with each other for this to happen.

What group activity could be next?

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[hanniebaeee]

Code Love

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.

a/n : For all my science/research girlies 🤭

It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.

He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” you blinked, attempting to act like you hadn’t just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.

“I said,” Hyunjin grinned, “you’re incubating that reaction too long.”

“Oh, um, I knew that” you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. “Totally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.

God, why was he like this?

That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?

“Are you staying late tonight?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

“I have to,” you mumbled. “This experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.”

Hyunjin hummed, and said, “Oh good, I'll have some company then.”

You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.

Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasn’t staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.

Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.

---

“I swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, I’m going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -” You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.

Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.

Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, “This is bad, babe,”

“Bad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.” you said. “Oh my God!!”

“Have you considered just telling him you like him?” Jisung smirked.

“Right, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.”

“You’re hopeless.”

---

The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, “You've been spending way too much time on it.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying not to stutter. “It’s just...a lot of noise in the data.”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.

You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man who’s inexplicably obsessed with helping you.

When he finally looked up, you realized you’d been staring at him the whole time.

“What?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing... thanks. You’re really good at this,” you stammered.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Don’t sell yourself short.” he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.

You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.

Stop it. He’s being nice. Don’t read into it. Just focus on the work.

But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Y/N, I’m begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.” Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.

“You don’t get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -”

“Babe,” Jisung drawled, “what world do you live in?!”

“Don’t give me hope, Ji.” you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.

“Hope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, I’m falling for him,” Jisung said, throwing his hands up. “Seriously, babe, if you don’t jump him soon, I might.”

---

The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.

But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.

Great. Now you were cold and flustered.

“How's the extraction going?” he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.

“Going wonderfully,” you muttered, shivering despite your layers.

He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.

“Do you want me to take over?” He asked, making you sigh.

“And miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,” you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. “You're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.”

“Nice?” he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. “You sure about that?”

You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?

“I- I mean, yeah,” you stammered, breaking eye contact. “You’re always helping me...”

“Maybe I have my reasons.” Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, “Reasons?”

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

“How's your favorite experiment going?” Jisung's loud voice floated in. “Oh, hi Hyunjin!”

You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.

Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, “Hi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,”

“Of course she is,” Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.

“What was that?” He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed. “We were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “You like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -”

It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didn’t care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.

Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.

You’d barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, setting a cup in front of you.

“I love you, Ji,” you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. “I don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.”

Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.

You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.

You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.

“Morning,” he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.

You noticed Hyunjin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.

You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjin’s silence gnawing at you. He didn’t even glance your way, which was unusual.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - you’d mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.

He hated feeling this way, especially when you weren’t his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to you.

---

You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, “Hey,”

He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “You're so...quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.

“You sure?” you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.

Hyunjin’s silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.

You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.

You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.

So, he’d made a decision: if he couldn’t have you, he’d rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.

---

The next morning, you were back in the cold room. You’d been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.

“This is so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. “Why can’t anything just go right for once?”

You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.

“I just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?” your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.

What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.

Your Jinnie?

Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, “Y/N?”

You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.

“What?” you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.

You shook your head, refusing to face him.

“Why do you care?” You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.

“Please don't say that, of course I care-”

“It’s nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.”

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice firmer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You won't even talk to me, and it’s killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

And then you felt it.

Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought you and Jisung -”

“Jisung?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. “You know he’s my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.”

“I thought I was protecting myself,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. “I thought I’d lose you to Jisung, and I couldn’t handle it. But I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

“I can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjin” you said, your voice incredulous. “What are you even saying?!”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.

He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- ” he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.

“You... you love me?”

“I adore you,” he said, giving you a shy smile.

You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.”

His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)

You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.

You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.

His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.

You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said “I got what I wanted".

“Congratulations,” Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiots…”

The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I swear, if you don’t shut up -” You swatted him on the arm.

Jisung winced dramatically but couldn’t hide his laughter.

“What? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.”

Well, you couldn't agree more.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar—like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

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[azrielstaylorsversion]

Just a friend

Azriel x reader

When two best friends are in love with each other and they finally get one last push, what will become of their relationship?

My laugh echoes through the room as Azriel tells me about his biggest and definitely most embarrassing mission scandal.

We have been talking for hours at this point. It was just past midnight. We did this at least a few times per week. Or at least we tried to, when we weren't working too hard.

The two of us were curled up on the couch in front of the crackling fireplace of the one of the many rooms of the House of Wind.

A blanket is pulled over my body with a hot cup of tea in my hands, trying not to spill the hot water as my body shakes with laughter.

Az is sitting next to me while I am laying down, using his lap to rest my legs on. One of his hands rests just above my knee. He always needed to touch me somehow.

"That didn't happen." I laugh again.

Azriel chuckles, "It did. And I'm not proud of it, but it makes a good story."

I watch his face lighten with happiness. Something I like about him in private; the way he laughs and smiles.

His shadows float through my hair. I don't even really notice it anymore, they are just there. A part of me, just like Az is a part of me. In a way.

Best friend.

Azriel's relaxed body stiffens slightly, his attention turning towards the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

He turns his face back to me. "Late night talks are over." he gently pats my leg. "Cass needs me in three.. two..--"

He is cut off by the door swinging open. Cassian walks in, Nests following close behind. They both look irritated in their own way.

Their eyes fall on us. Nesta's eyes linger just a few seconds too long, curiosity shining in them.

"Sorry Y/N, gonna take Az from you." he hauls his brother from the couch and drags him along.

Azriel turns around one more time and smiles, mouthing help.

They disappear out of the room while Nesta lets herself fall down on the couch next to me.

"What did you do?" I ask her.

"More like what I didn't do." she says with a slight smirk on her face. I laugh, ready to ask her about the details. "Before you speak we are going to talk about something else."

"What is it?" I ask confused.

"When are you and Az just going to admit it." she sighs.

"What?" I ask stunned.

"Oh stop that. You know what I'm talking about. You're in love with him, he's in love with you." Nesta explains.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can't find the words.

"He's so in love with you. Why won't you see it." she groans.

"I don't know what you mean." I tell her, trying to keep my cheeks from turning red.

"Hm, let me see; the way he looks at you. He never looks at anyone that way. You make him light up, he actually jokes around you, the way you two are always cuddled up, how he almost always has a hand somewhere on your body. Oh, and when he talks about you when you're not in the room." Nesta says. "He's madly in love with you."

My cheeks turn more red. "That's what best friends do."

Nesta let's out a laugh. "Definitely not. Maybe some things, but not the touching thing. Oh, and how he always looks at you when you aren't paying attention."

I progress her words. Did I love him? No doubt. But with Nesta telling me this, I actually started to believe it could be mutual.

We've known each other for centuries, so if I even as much as ruined our friendship I would be heartbroken.

"Just talk and see where that gets you." Nesta smiles.

I toss and turn in my bed. The sheets and pillows are too warm, but when I get out of bed everything is too cold.

The moon shines through my windows, but I'm too lazy to do something about the bright light.

The thought of Azriel runs through my mind. It's all Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

Nesta's words hang heavy in my head.

I sigh and push the sheets off my body. I make my way to the closet to throw a sweater over my nightgown and walk for the door.

I don't hesitate to open it and walk straight through.

Azriel's room isn't far away from mine. Where my room is at the very beginning of the hallway, his is at the very end.

I've been inside his room many times, but never have I actually been nervous to enter.

I move my hand to knock, but the door already opens, revealing a very much awake Az. A very much awake Az with a black eye and split lip.

The nervousness disappears and worry replaces it. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"You should see Cass."

I stare at him, unsure what to do now.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with that loving tone.

"I-.. I can't stop thinking." I decide to tell him.

"Do you want to come in?" he already steps aside.

I nod and walk inside as he closes the door. His familiar smell fills my nose. What was I doing...

Azriel sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him.

I sit down and he immediately grabs my hand.

"Why do you do that?" I ask without thinking, remembering Nesta's words.

I look at Azriel's stunned face.

"Because.." he doesn't seem to progress his own words. "Because I want to be close to you."

There is actually tension between us and I hate it. This doesn't feel nice.

"Is that what best friends do?" I ask him.

He looks down at our intertwined hands. "Maybe some, but.."

"But what?"

He sighs, but not in a irritated way. "I like touching you. I like being near you. I like your presence and the way you talk. And I just overall love you."

I stare at him. "Like.. Like what? A friend?"

"No, I love you. Not in a friend way." he finally says.

Even though it was my plan to confess, he did it before I got the chance.

He notices the way my face falls. Worry takes over his features. "I'm sorry if I ruined--"

"I love you too. I love you so much." I remove my hands from his and place them against his face. "You have no idea how much I love you and how much I've loved you for years."

He laughs, his eyes slightly glistening with tears. "You have no idea how loved you make me feel. Even as a friend, you saved me."

He pulls my body closer to his, leaning in to kiss me. I gladly let him, pressing my lips against his.

He pulls me on his lap, and as we kiss, something snaps.

I pull my face away from him, looking at him. I didn't have to look twice to see if he really felt that too.

"Mate." I whisper.

"You're my mate." Azriel says softly.

[rottenfyre]

Who do you think would cry/throw up/MURDER first if Pervert!Spider Reader tried rizzing up Thalia or Rhas Al Ghul?

1. Damian: Murder Mode Activated

Damian would 100% be the first to lose it. Seeing you even remotely flirt with his mother or grandfather would flip his already short fuse.

If it’s Talia, he’d go full-on angry bird mode, glaring daggers at you while sputtering, “YOU INSOLENT WOMAN! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!” before likely drawing his katana.

If it’s Ra’s, he’d genuinely threaten you, saying something like, “You’ve gone too far. I’ll end this madness myself,” while trying to intimidate you with his deadliest glare (which you’d probably find adorable).

No amount of kisses or teasing would calm him down immediately. He’d probably need Jason to hold him back.

2. Jason: Punches a Wall (and Maybe You)

Jason would go straight into rage and denial mode, particularly if you started sweet-talking Ra’s. You jokingly tell Ra's, "You've got a whole 'silver fox with a kingdom' vibe going on. Very attractive," and Jason snaps.

"Oh, hell no. This wrinkly bastard doesn't get to breathe the same air as you!"

He'd unload an entire clip at Ra's while dragging you behind him protectively.

“You’re flirting with the Demon’s Head?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

If it’s Talia, he’d be equally furious but also extra petty. “Oh, so you’re into hot assassins now? Great. Guess I’m not enough for you,” he’d grumble while trying not to visibly sulk.

Despite his anger, there’s a 50% chance Jason might step in to challenge Ra’s directly, because he refuses to be shown up.

3. Dick: Throws Up in the Corner

Dick would probably cry and throw up first, especially if you flirted with Talia.

He’d be heartbroken, looking at you with those big, sad puppy-dog eyes. “Why would you do this? I thought we had something special,” he’d say dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s in a soap opera.

If it’s Ra’s, he’d look physically ill. “You’re flirting with a literal centuries-old warlord?! What’s wrong with you?” he’d exclaim, pacing in disbelief while the others try to calm him down.

4. Tim: Overthinks Himself into Oblivion

Tim wouldn’t react physically but would go into full mental meltdown mode. Poor boy is so emotionally fragile when it comes to you. Seeing you openly flirt with either Talia or Ra's would break him completely.

He’d probably mutter something like, “Wait, are you doing this as a joke? Or do you actually like them? Is this part of some elaborate plan I missed?” while spiraling into paranoia.

You casually compliment Ra's on his tailored robes, and Tim, who's watching from the Batcomputer, starts hyperventilating. "She... she doesn't mean it. Right? She's just messing around. RIGHT?!" Then he bolts to the nearest bathroom. If it was Talia? He'd straight-up faint from the stress.

Tim would definitely research ways to counteract the Lazarus Pit just in case you’re actually serious.

He’d also probably cry a little, but only in private.

5. Bruce: Quietly Contemplates Murder

Bruce wouldn’t react immediately. Instead, he’d sit there in silence, arms crossed, radiating pure disappointment.

“Ra’s Al Ghul? Really?” he’d say in that deep, gravelly voice, making you laugh even harder.

If it’s Talia, he’d rub his temples and mutter, “I’ve dealt with a lot from you, but this… this is a new low.”

He wouldn’t say anything outright, but the tension in the Batcave afterward would be suffocating.

The Aftermath:

Damian would sulk for days and try to “punish” you during training by going extra hard.

Jason would get over it by pretending it never happened, but he’d glare at Ra’s every chance he got.

Dick would be clingier than ever, needing constant reassurance that he’s still your favorite.

Tim would probably never trust you around the League of Assassins again.

Bruce? He’d just pray to whatever deity he believes in for patience.

[stump-not-found]

we're getting into the cover compositions that start falling apart ! i really adore stan and mabel being outside the frame, bringing in the purple from step V, and the green from step IV . playing with visuals is neat ! drawing those pictures was less neat !

this was the hardest chapter to wrte and sat unfinished for WEEKS . chapter seven wasn't even going to exist, but six got so long i had to split it up . it was wild . for a long time i had no idea what they were even gonna be doing on this planet . there used to be a, like, fortress they needed to break into ?

the family splitting up was always part of the plan, but originally it was because there was a large gate they needed to get through, and ford was gonna go alone until dipper volunteered to go with him . that was back when i was gonna try and have ford persuade dipper into being his apprentice, like he did in the show, because it was weird in the show too . but that sucked and slowed the whole pace down . i much prefer the rift getting escalated for emotional reasons .

was a challenge re enforcing a lot of fords abilities, along with introducing the journal, and trying to find a way to make it entertaining . i really love the response to ford, and one of my favorite things writing him is the way he describes things in the stupidest terms . like the shampoo & conditioner comment . the 30 second audio clips bit makes me think of those shitty cheap plastic toys you'd buy at claire's, where you get like, one minute of an nsync song . i think mabel would have loved those honestly

originally ford was also way more of a dick about mabel, specifically, but i realized i hate that a bit and really tried to punch up how sweet he is on the kids . i'm glad i did that, because i think its a lot stronger narratively that the dude has no ill thoughts towards the kids - dipper's attitude is just him listening, absorbing, and projecting in a way that helps him regain some control over his home situation

lots to say about the kids and their deal, though that could be its own separate thing . i'll just say it went under a lot of revisions, and had a lot of conversations about it . my goal was to have some pushback on the idea that mabel is this emotionally enlightened bastion of truth . god i have a lot i could rant on this point, but i really want to get across it's not a good thing when your 12 yr old niece tries to give you a therapy session . like . that's a bad thing, overall, to be quite honest .

dipper's whole thing is just aaaaaaaaaaaa it's hard to be trans in 2012 . well it's hard to be trans in general . dipper pines i love you i want you to know that you sweaty weirdo . you and your sister are gonna be just fine

it's fun that the kids become less of a background element once both adults in the room start to pay proper attention to them . as i write these chapters, i like to imagine that mabel and dipper are just having a regular ass gravity falls adventure, while the adults are having to walk down trauma lane lalalalal

oh fuck we also get the man in the hallway with his mystery pendant . did anyone see that guy the fuck was up with that . oh well i guess that's not important L O L

oh fuck this was also the professional working relationship chapter what the fuck ... i'm gonna be honest i laugh about that everytime .... the entire scene where bill starts counting his teeth almost got cut which would have been fucking stupid . yes i am referencing macdennis with them . yes ford does tell bill to smoke a cigarette to get rid of the toxins . that's how it SHOULD be . that's how a working relationship GOES

anyways ford and stanley's home life was fucked the fanfiction the movie . yay

bill is in everyone's hallway if you force the perspective enough:

favorite part:

“Dipper, there are… certain quirks of demon containment that are easier to let happen than argue about.” Ford says. Teeth counting is one of the top ones. Along with letting Bill clip his nails when they’ve grown out too long, or cut his hair when it gets too shaggy, or… actually, there’s a lot of things Bill will throw a fit about if Ford fights him over it. Though Ford supposes he has his own list as well, including forcing Bill to do regular blood checks, and have consistent meals with appropriate dietary restrictions. Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

in case anyone was confused about there being anything romantic okay . please review the above paragraph it is VERY clear about the nature of their relationship, thank you

The family gets separated by some stupid metaphors, the kids have some normal and healthy conversations, and both Pines brothers handle the situation very, very well.

Everything's going just peachy, so long as you ignore all the problems.

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 17. Carrots

A/N: Kinda related, kinda not, but you should watch “Hot Frosty” on Netflix if you haven’t, totally recommend it (it’s very ridiculous in the best way possible). Sorry for all the awful dialogue you are about

Snowman x fem!reader || questionable use of vegetables, temperature play (kinda), mentioned overstimulation

When your witch friend asked you to build a snowman with her, you thought nothing of it. It would be fun, the snow was fresh and everyone seemed cheerful around you as you built his round body. Your friend, though… She made hers to look a bit more realistic, less round and more angular, in a way that was giving uncanny valley vibes. But you thought nothing of it, why would you?

When she asked if you liked him, you started to suspect there was something special about him, but again, you thought nothing of it. And when she used the carrot to make a dick instead of a nose, you almost peed yourself laughing. It was just so stupid looking, all white and round but with a big carrot dick… You should have known better.

And then he showed up, alive and walking, knocking on your door and staring up and down at you like he was about to fuck you right there. His carrot dick was erected and pointing straight at you. You gaped at him as he smiled, stroking his dick slowly. You gaped some more, your eyes accidentally traveling down. That was an amazing carrot…

No. Behave, you cannot fuck a snowman, you tried to remind myself.

“Wait here,” you told the snowman, who only nodded. You grabbed your phone and dialed your friend. “Why there’s a living snowman at my door, dude?!” You screamed at her as soon as she picked up. The poor dude was looking at you as if you were his dream come true.

“Calm down, you seemed very lonely and I had a bit of extra magic lately… So I gave you my Christmas gift early. Do you like him? Have you tried him yet?”

“Have I tri- What the fuck?!” You must be dreaming, there was no way that was happening to you. You pinched yourself and blinked, but the snowman was still in front of you and your friend was still talking.

“He’s ready for you, darling. He wants to treat you like the queen you deserve to be,” she explained, almost bored. You wanted to pull her hair until she was bald.

“You did not send me a sex snowman,” you repeated, trying to make sense of what you were seeing and hearing.

“I did. Now I have to go, have fun!” She said before hanging up on you.

“We are not fucking,” you told him, your frown so deep you could see your eyebrows.

“I’m going to feed my carrot to your hungry bunny,” he deadpanned, in a tone that you supposed was intended to sound sexy. It didn’t. You struggled not to laugh, but his face was so serious you couldn’t do that to him, he looked so hopeful.

You stared at him, his hand lazily stroking his carrot once again. You felt your face blushing. You really needed to get laid, your pussy was getting wet about a snowman and a carrot… But you had more pressing matters than your wet pussy.

“One: you can’t say things like that. And two: we aren’t going to fuck.” His face fell and he stopped moving his hand, making you almost sad. Dang.

“Why not? I can smell your juices.” He could what? “You are hot for me and I’m cold for you, we should do something about it.” How desperate were you that he sounded right? You did want to fuck a snowman… Fuck, there was something so, so wrong inside of you because you were considering taking him on the offer.

“I- We- You are a snowman,” you let out, not really having a point.

“And you are a human, but my carrot is very hard for you.” You chuckled, the absurdity of it all getting to you. But most of all, your strength to hold back disappeared with that affirmation. He was made for you, and you were very horny, and his carrot looked especially delicious right now…

“Okay,” you agreed, your pussy almost clapping with enthusiasm. It had been a long time since you were properly fucked and you were feeling the need for sure.

“Okay? Are you… are you sure?” He suddenly seemed very confused about your decision, as if all his bravado died the second you agreed to fuck him. You wanted to coo at him, but you decided there was a better choice.

You walked to him and kissed his half open mouth. He was cold, but at the same time his lips felt like velvet against yours as you devoured his mouth. He gave as much as received, deepening the kiss and circling your body with his arms. You were pressed firmly against his front and your nipples instantly hardened, he was so cold in such a pleasurable way�� You didn’t even know you had something for temperature play but good snowman if your pussy wasn’t quivering thinking about his hard carrot pocking your stomach.

You parted, looking at him intently, but when you didn’t find any doubt in his eyes, your choice was already made. “Fuck me, my snowman,” you almost pleaded, your voice trembling as your pussy pulsated at the same rhythm as your heart.

“Your wish is my command.” He laid you on the floor, right in the middle of your living room. “Are you ready for my carrot?” He asked, as you tried not to giggle. You nodded, fearing if you opened your mouth you would laugh and he wouldn’t give you his dick. And you needed it. You needed it so, so bad.

He entered you in one long thrust and you cried out in ecstasy. The contrast between your warm body and his cold skin was exhilarating and arousing, sending you to the stratosphere of pleasure. You didn’t know what was about to happen, but the size and shape of his carrot ended up being fantastic. The almost pointy tip played with your cervix as the wide base made your pussy clench around it, rubbing against your G-spot in the most amazing way. It was the perfect sex toy, even better, he was like a breathing sex-toy and that made your brain turn a bit fuzzy at the edges, arousal so big it was maddening.

He started a punishing pace, his dick going in and out of you so fast and hard your whole body was moving across the floor. You had to hold onto the carpet (carpet burn be damned) to be still as he pounded into your welcoming heat. He kept moaning how warm and wet you were, how good your heat felt against his cold… And you could only chant “yes, yes, yes” as he kept going.

And when you came like a tidal wave, your whole body convulsing as he kept fucking you. He didn’t stop, he fucked you through it as he used his cold fingers to rub your clit, making you ascend in your pleasure even higher. You screamed his name, pulling at his ice hair and trying to hold for dear life as you kept coming and coming…

And he kept going.

He fucked you many more times that night, his stamina endless as he kept using his clever carrot to pound into your G-spot as his cold fingers pinched your clit until you couldn’t hold back orgasm after orgasm. It was the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt, and by the time you asked for a rest, he was smirking down at you, the smugness in his face making your overused pussy twitch in anticipation.

And then you remembered… You had to thank your friend. Damn it.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

Boyfriend!Sukuna was definitely not a shy man.

As someone who had tried every possible way to embarrass him, neither your actions nor your words ever worked. Every time, he’d look at you with the same seriousness—or even mild annoyance. Did you truly believe you could make him blush? It was ridiculous. There was no way someone as towering and unshakable as him would ever feel embarrassed to the point of turning red. It was simply impossible.

But for you, “impossible” was just a word.

You were leaning against his broad chest, sitting in his lap, as the two of you watched the snow falling onto the garden from your terrace. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the touchy type, but when you insisted, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, you’ve never been embarrassed?” you asked, your gaze fixed on the snow as it blanketed the greenery outside. Your question earned a low grunt from him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to ruin the moment,” he replied, pausing briefly before adding, “Three minutes and forty-one seconds. Congrats, brat, you broke your previous record.”

His words made you laugh so hard your body shook, though Sukuna couldn’t understand what was so funny about his dead-serious comment. You were a peculiar one, that was for sure.

Suddenly, you shifted in his lap, moving to straddle him. His large hands instinctively settled on your waist, steadying you.

Who would’ve thought being held by four hands could feel this good?

As your fingers trailed through his pink, messy hair, Sukuna’s eyes fluttered shut—something he couldn’t help but do whenever you touched his hair. It always brought him an unexplainable calm, a sense of peace he found nowhere else.

“I’m good at breaking records,” you teased, a bright smile lighting up your face. Sukuna didn’t open his eyes, but you caught the faintest upward twitch of his lips—a rare, fleeting moment of softness.

“I can see that. You surprise me more and more every day, you cheeky brat.” The crimson eyes that most people found cursed and terrifying locked onto yours, though you found them utterly irresistible. While he’d never admit it, seeing you smile made everything in his world feel a little brighter.

Slowly, he leaned in, nuzzling his head against the soft curve of your neck. His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and he planted a gentle kiss there, letting his teeth graze your skin ever so slightly.

“Just one touch…” His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “One single touch is enough to turn your neck red. I’d bet your cheeks are even redder than your neck right now.”

He was right. Your cheeks were undoubtedly burning like wildfire. You knew your face had turned a shade rivaling a clown’s red nose.

“Kuna—”

“I want you right here.” His deep voice resonated through you. “Watching the snow while I bury myself inside your warm, tight little pussy.”

If you stayed like this any longer, everything he said would probably happen. You were already sore from last night. Besides, it was Christmas Day, and you wanted to do something other than just have sex with your boyfriend.

With great difficulty, you pulled his massive head away from you. If he wanted to stop you, he could have, but if he did, he’d probably have to endure you complaining to him for two hours.

Still holding his head, you scolded him, “Nuh-uh. Last night you nearly broke my back.” Furrowing your brows, you let go of his head and stood up. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, and don’t even try that ‘I don’t like sweet things’ excuse. I know who ate the Oreo Milka I bought two days ago.”

As you walked off the terrace toward the kitchen, you called out loudly, “Be a good boy, Sukuna, and maybe I’ll let you have me on the terrace later.”

Magic words didn’t always have to be “please.” After all, the word “please” didn’t even exist in Sukuna’s vocabulary. But if he had to pick one magical phrase, it would undoubtedly be “good boy.”

Those two words were enough to make your supposedly unshakable boyfriend blush furiously and feel his heart race in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d called him “good boy,” but every time you did, he somehow managed to hide his face, avoiding your gaze.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who made others kneel at his feet, who inspired fear with his towering figure and unmatched strength, could turn into a shy mess with just two simple words from you: “good boy.”

a little note: can i get a little commotion for my red ribbon divider 😌

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[pinkyqily]

Lauren James x reader

Lauren spots reader at every game and every time before final whistle reader leaves, one time she tries to approach reader because that one time reader had stayed till the end of the game but when she approached the seats where she was sitting reader had disappeared, the girl's thinks she's making thing's up because they've never seen someone of the discription until the last game at Stamford Bridge...

(my thought process ran out so the ending is up to you 😭)

𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙍𝙊𝙒𝘿 - laurel james x reader

Summary: in which your girlfriend teammates think she made you up until recent games were they finally meet you.

Contains: fluff, suggestive

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to complete your request, and hopefully you enjoyed reading as much i did writing it, my request are opened so if you have any send em'. And as always feedbacks,reblog,likes,comments are always appreciated as they motivates me 🫶🏿

You and Lauren had been talking to each other for over a year now before she had asked you to be her girlfriend.

It was a heartfelt proposal, the moment you walked in your favorite coffee place that she had reserved just for the two of you made you speechless from the luke warm lights to the well homemade pastries and drinks along with the beautiful garden view.

Which was one of your favorite things about the cafe. Everything felt perfect at that moment. so when Lauren asked you to be her girlfriend even before she could get those words out, you immediately connected your lips to hers.

Which brings you to now every time Lauren would try and introduce you to her teammates something always happened that makes you leave early than expected. You would be in the stands wachting your girl and her teammates play, but every time before the final whistles blows you had to leave because something was always coming up.

The first time that it happened, you were at chelsea home game but had to leave due to someone breaking into your house as you had gotten a notification. from your homes alarm system indicating unknown activity.

which was a false call, It was your neighbors cat that had gotten through using the kitchen windows. Which lj understood, but that didn't stop her from all the teasing you'd get from her.

The second time, it happened you had to leave early around halftime because of a wardrobe malfunction and getting called back into work as you worked for a high journalism company.

Your girlfriend understood, but when she got home, she was the reason for a full wardrobe malfunction with your clothes,body, and bed.

And we'll today would be the third time that you had disappeared and Lauren's teammates had been giving her a hard time telling her that it was okay if she had an imaginary girlfriend even though you were hundred percent real to lj.

Why wouldn't you when she would come home combine her body heat to yours.

But that was not the case with lj and her teammates because after searching for you in the friends and family section, it was a no go as you had already left.

You on the other had had to leave your section because of the nois as you couldn't hear the other end if your cellphone call. But you were able to make it onto the field with lauren's brother reece, who had been waiting for you.

Seeing lj getting picked on her teammates and her about to head inside you quickly called out to her.

"Lauren baby wait up". You said loud enough for heads to start turning your direction.

Millie was the one with a shocked face following in the others who had a huge look of disbelief.

"Hey there, you thought you left me."She told you

"Office called, and it was getting way too noisy, and I had to move it outside."You told her.

"Wait, so you're actually real, and this one right here wasn't lying all this time when she told us you were coming." Sam voice spoke up.

"Well, I was at your last two games but had to leave due to technical emergency, so it definitely wasn't a lie, and I'm as real as it gets."You told her.

[kittykat-suki]

Clingy 𓇢𓆸

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader Warnings: angst with comfort

Jeongin’s passion, his dedication to his fans, the way he pushed himself to perfect every move, every note and every performance captivated you.

So, when you were made aware that he had been overworking himself, you naturally decided to show up at practice to treat him and the other members to your well known sweet treats- y/n’s chocolate chip cookies and blueberry muffins. You hoped that this would provide all of them with a bit of energy to endure the long hours of rehearsals.

Smiling to yourself, you were excited to see the way Jeongin’s eyes would light up when he sees you. However, as you entered the studio, a unfamiliar atmosphere hung in the air. The usual bickering and laughter were absent. Instead, the tension was thick, almost suffocating.

The room was solely filled with the sound of exhausted footsteps and heavy breathing as the members rehearsed for their upcoming performance.

Jeongin stood at the center, his posture stiff as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, looking worn-out, as though his energy had been drained from every corner of his body. He hadn’t noticed you come in yet, but you figured it would only be a moment before his face broke into the warm smile you knew so well.

As the practise came to an end, you stepped forward, holding out the tub of treats. "Hey, Jeongin," you said softly, your voice warm but cautious, sensing the underlying tension. "I brought you all some snacks. I thought you might be hungry."

The other members turned toward you with friendly smiles, immediately taking the treats from you and offering their thanks. But Jeongin didn’t look up. He continued adjusting his shoes, his body tense as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. You tried again, more gently this time.

"Jeongin… you’ve been working so hard. Maybe you should take a break," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Finally, he looked at you, but not in the way you had hoped. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, but what caught you off guard was the hostility in his eyes, which was supported by the sharp edge in his voice. "I don’t need a break, Y/N."

You stepped back, a little surprised by the distaste in his tone. "I just thought you might need some support—".

He cut you off with a scoff. "Support?" His voice grew louder now, filled with irritation. "I don’t need you hovering around me all the time, y/n. You’re being the opposite of supportive right now. It’s like you don’t get it."

The words stung horribly, but you tried to ignore it, hoping this wasn’t really happening. Maybe he was just tired. "I didn’t mean to annoy you… I just wanted to help. I made these for you guys, it’s your favourites."

"I don’t need your help," he snapped, the words hitting you harder than you expected. "You’re always so clingy, always trying to be there when I’m just trying to focus. It’s exhausting being with you."

The room fell silent. You felt your stomach drop as his words echoed not only around the room, but in your mind and all the way to your heart.

Clingy. Such a simple word, but it cut deeper than anything else he could have said. You had always been insecure of this, and now your caring boyfriend had just unknowingly confirmed your deepest fears.

"You’re right. I’m…sorry," you whispered, keeping your eyes down and onto the now bitter treats in order to stop the tears form rushing out. Your hands clenched around the tub, trying to keep your composure, but it was all unraveling inside you.

Before you could say anything else, you shoved the tub into Jeongin’s hands and turned away quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t even look back to see if he was watching you. With a slam, the door shut behind you, and you walked down the hallway, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

The cold air hit you as you reached the exit. You hadn’t expected your surprise to end this way, and now you felt more alone than ever. The streets added to your discomfort, seemingly more emptier than usual, with the night sky above you dark and unforgiving.

You wanted to just go home and drown in your own sorrows, preferably with a tub of ice cream, but your phone and keys. You hadn’t even realized you’d left them in the practice room.

You knew you couldn’t go back, so you wandered aimlessly, knowing you had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. It felt like the weight of his rejection was following you, echoing in your ears.

And then, as if the world had conspired against you, the rain began to pour. First, it was a few droplets, but soon it turned into a downpour, soaking you through. But you barely noticed, your mind too clouded with the sting of Jeongin’s words to focus on anything else.

You wished you hadn’t come. Wished you hadn’t tried to help him, to support him. Maybe you had overstepped. Maybe you were too much. Maybe, just like Jeongin had confirmed, you were clingy and just a burden.

Tears mixed with the rain as you stumbled down the deserted streets. You didn't even care that you were soaked to the bone. You didn’t care about anything anymore, the words of the person you most trusted hurt more than anything.

It wasn’t until you heard hurried footsteps behind you that you even registered someone was approaching. You turned, startled, only to see Jeongin, breathless and soaked, running toward you.

"Y/N!" he called, his voice filled with panic. "Y/N, wait!".

You turned back and kept walking, anger and hurt still looking in your mind. However, he caught up to you, blacking your path.

Jeongin stood there in the pouring rain, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, the dark strands clinging to his face like the weight of his regret. His drenched jacket stuck to his body, outlining his frame, and he looked smaller than usual, like he was struggling with the enormity of what had just happened.

His eyes were wide and filled with panic as he searched your face as if he were trying to find a way to undo the damage, to take back the words that had slipped from his mouth. His lips parted slightly, as if he was trying to speak, but no words came out. The tension in his posture was so palpable, it was as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, each raindrop a reminder of his mistake.

And yet, there was something more in his eyes than just worry. Something deeper.

Guilt.

It was written across his face in every line and every flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features. You had seen him worried before, but never like this. Never with that quiet, broken look, as though he was carrying the burden of something he couldn’t undo.

He stepped forward, his soaked shoes making soft squelching sounds against the wet pavement, but you took a step back, not wanting to get too close, not yet.

"Y/N…" His voice cracked slightly, sounding hoarse and unsure, swallowed by the sound of the rain that fell in torrents around you both. His hand reached out, but it hung in the air, trembling as if he wasn’t sure whether he had the right to touch you, whether you would let him.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but your heart felt heavy, the anger and hurt still so fresh. "You don’t need to worry about me, Jeongin," you said softly, pulling away, "I’m fine."

"Stop," he said, his voice trembling. "I care about you. I... I didn’t mean to say those things to you earlier." His voice cracked, and for a moment, you saw how broken he looked. "I was just so tired, and I… I took it all out on you."

You shook your head, still not meeting his gaze. "It’s fine. I understand."

"No," he said urgently, his hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently to make you look at him. "No, it’s not fine. It’s not fine at all. I was stupid, Y/N. You’ve always been there for me, supporting me, and I pushed you away. I hurt you… and I never meant to."

His hands were warm against your cold cheeks, his touch almost like a lifeline. "I was just so tired. So overworked. I didn’t know what to say, and the worst thing is that none of I what I said was true. I… I’m so sorry."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for the first time since you had left, you allowed yourself to cry. The tears flowed freely, mixing with the rain that poured down, but this time, you didn’t feel as alone.

Jeongin gently wiped the tears from your face with his thumb, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I never should’ve said that to you. You mean so much to me. I’m so sorry for everything."

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you, and nodded slowly. "I know you didn’t mean it. I just… I just want you to know you don’t have to push me away. I care about you, Jeongin. I want to help you."

He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to hold onto you, as if he were afraid you’d slip away. "I won’t push you away again. I promise. I’m so sorry."

You let yourself sink into him, the warmth of his embrace pushing away the cold of the rain. You could feel the weight lifting off your chest, the hurt slowly fading, replaced by the quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

"I’ll always be here," you whispered, and for the first time that night, Jeongin smiled softly against your hair.

[strwberri-milk]

Hii! Can I request LADs men with a reader that’s afraid of needles?

They have to get a shot or their blood taken, but they’re just downright terrified and trying to run away from the doctors.

It's not to say Zayne has no tolerance but the way that he acts around you makes it seem like he's not "entertaining" you. What's actually happening is he's used to people being afraid of needles so he's got a sort of procedure to help make things a little more bearable. He's there with you the entire time, but also isn't opposed to just asking if you want him to inquire about getting an oral sedative to help you sleep if you need a shot for some sort of longer procedure.

Xavier will just hold you down as long as you give him permission to before. He's talking you through the entire thing, trying to keep you calm as he holds you. Thankfully, his touch is reassuring enough that you do find yourself grounded in it to an extent, finding yourself feeling slightly soothed by his hands.

Rafayel wishes he could do something to make things easier for you but he's really not sure how to approach it. He'll try to see if you can do literally anything but get your blood drawn, and is not above paying a boatload of money if he needs to. Whatever it is he can do he'd be more than happy to. What he ends up doing is talking your ear off, making you look at him whenever you seem to get distracted. He keeps his voice level, making it hard for you to determine when the needle actually went in.

Sylus is a mix of all of them. He wants to do anything he can to try and prevent you from getting a needle but tries to use some tactics to distract you from the needle in the first place. If he needs to he's more than happy to hold you in his lap, covering your eyes and whispering soothingly in your ear to calm you down.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

THIRD TRIMESTER

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe 

Warnings: Stress and anxiety during pregnancy

Summary: Rafe defends you, pregnancy stress causes emotional pain

The third trimester had come faster than you anticipated, and with it came a series of emotions, both overwhelming and beautiful. You were now heavily pregnant, your body changing in ways that made you feel like you were barely holding onto yourself, but all the while, Rafe was there, supporting you through every step. The two of you had recently moved into a new house, a small but cozy place where you could begin your life together as a family. It was everything you’d dreamed of—well, almost everything.

-

There was still the issue of Rafe’s father, who hadn’t made it easy on you. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he’d been openly critical of your decision to start a family so young.

“I don’t know why you’d want to keep the baby. You’re barely out of high school,” his voice echoed in your mind as you sat on the couch in your new home, wrapping your arms around your belly. “And you think you’re ready to raise a child? Wait until you see what comes out of her, Rafe. She won’t even look the same, and it’s not like she’ll go back to being skinny after all that. You really want to deal with that?”

You could still feel the sting of his words, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something hurtful about your pregnancy, but it always hit hard. Rafe had defended you every time, but it never seemed to be enough to quiet the doubts you had. His dad’s comments made you second-guess everything, even your own self-worth, even when you knew deep down it wasn’t true.

Rafe had been there, as always, but that didn’t stop the growing anxiety within you. Every time his father would make a comment, it would take everything inside you not to cry or snap back. But today, something inside you broke. You had been unpacking boxes when you overheard another comment from Rafe’s dad, and it sent you spiraling. You knew Rafe wasn’t home, so you found yourself collapsing on the couch in tears, holding your belly as your emotions threatened to take over.

Just as the pain of the words sank deeper, the door to the living room opened, and Rafe stepped in, looking concerned. His eyes softened as soon as he saw your face, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach in distress.

“Baby?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

Through shaky breaths, you tried to explain. “I just... I just can’t take it anymore. He keeps saying I’m too young, and it’s like he doesn’t believe I can do this. He’s always saying that things are going to change after labor, that you won’t even look at me the same way... I feel like I’m not good enough for this baby.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched with anger, but his face softened as he gently cupped your face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? You are everything I could ever need. You’re the mother of my child, and nothing—nothing—will change that. Not the way you look, not what happens after labor. You could go through the toughest thing in the world, and I would still love you with everything I have. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You looked into Rafe’s eyes, your heart aching at his words, but the anxiety and emotional turmoil didn’t subside. You couldn’t stop crying. You wanted to be strong, but everything just felt so heavy. The emotional strain was overwhelming, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

Rafe’s protective instincts kicked in. His voice was steady but urgent as he pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. Take a few deep breaths. We’re okay. I’m here. The baby’s okay.”

But as you tried to steady your breathing, it felt impossible. You couldn’t calm down. The tears kept coming, and your chest tightened painfully. The stress had taken its toll, and you could feel it radiating through your body. Your heartbeat was erratic, and your baby seemed to be reacting too. The panic only deepened.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, clutching your chest, the pain intensifying. You were hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in fear as he frantically grabbed his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. It’s going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and rushed into the house. They assessed the situation quickly, asking questions and checking on both you and the baby. Rafe was by your side the whole time, holding your hand tightly, his face pale with worry.

Once you were in the ambulance, the pain started to subside, but your body still felt weak and shaky. The journey to the hospital felt long and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep fear of what might be happening to you and the baby.

At the hospital, the doctors quickly ran tests, checking the baby’s heartbeat and your vitals. They explained that what you were experiencing was likely a panic attack, brought on by stress and the emotional pressure you had been under. It wasn’t something to be alarmed about, but they strongly advised you to stay calm in the coming weeks to prevent any further stress on the baby.

“You need to take care of yourself, both physically and emotionally,” the doctor said gently. “The next few weeks are crucial for both you and the baby. Stress can affect your health and the baby’s development. You need to avoid any situations that could increase that anxiety.”

Rafe was at your side, holding your hand tightly as the doctor finished speaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure she’s calm. I’ll keep her safe.”

You felt the sincerity in his voice, and although you still felt a little shaken, hearing him promise to be there for you made everything feel a bit more manageable.

As you were discharged and brought back to your new home, Rafe stayed close, making sure to comfort you and help you get settled back on the couch. He insisted that you rest, assuring you that everything would be okay. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his care, feeling more grateful than ever that he was by your side.

“Don’t worry about anything else, baby,” Rafe said softly as he kissed the top of your head. “We’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one.”

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

LOLL girl I totally get it, but I don't think you have to be scared on this one. It's a nice little slow burn fic with cozy winter vibes. 😘 And like you, I LOVE soulmate/true mate/fates mate AUs too. It's definitely a mix of forced proximity and grumpy/sunshine, which you know I can't stop writing that dynamic for some reason. 😂😂

But here we go!! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

The physical description of Dean is SO good. The use of "stern" and "stubborn" as descriptors fits well for Dean.

Hahaaa thank you, lovely!! Stern brows and a stubborn chin felt inherently Dean to me.

Oh suuuurrrreeee keep telling yourself that Dean.

Lmfao right? Denial of the purest form. 🙄

So what you're saying is... she's trapped in a cabin, she's got a broken ankle, in the middle of a snowstorm with no way out and no communications, with a ruggedly hot mountain man with gorgeous green eyes, a gruff exterior, and a mysterious past... Sign👏🏻 Me👏🏻 Up

That is EXACTLY what I'm saying. 😏

(Also that How to Train Your Dragon gif made me smile -- I love that movie!!)

So ready for Dean to just obliterate all her other experiences with total jerks.

Oh he already is! You def know where I'm going with this. 😏

I live for the after a nightmare comfort trope (if it is a trope? 🧐) and I am SO happy you put this in. Oh my goodness it was so sweet of him to come check on her, and for you to give us a little bit of insight inside of Dean's POV during those moments where she was terrified. This part stuck out to me, because the man is already hook, line, and sinker. He literally tried to go to a cabin in the middle of the woods to get away from it all, but fate really has an odd way of catching up to you. Can't exactly run from it Dean.

Aww me too!! I love hurt/comfort moments almost as much as pure fluff moments. Dean really is fighting for his life emotionally in this loll. His instincts as an alpha (and her mate) are warring with his brain, and it was really fun to write that aspect of Dean's angst post-season 15.

OOooooooOOOooooo shots fired. SHOTS FIRED... But did she stutter??

She, in fact, did NOT stutter.

I'm losing it over the fact that Sam named his son DEAN Jr. 😂🥰 And also the bit about "running full speed into glass doors" is making me cackle lol.

Ahaha idk if that was actually canon or if that's something we in the fandom started writing and I just rolled with it. 😂 I'm pretty sure it's canon that Sam named his son after his uncle? But oh yeah, the running full speed into glass doors was taken straight out of my childhood. 🤣🤣

This line is so Dean, it's PERFECT, and I really love that it was what made the reader try to snort her diet Pepsi.

LOL thank you!! I think I grabbed part of it from season 12 where they go to Hollywood/L.A., but I thought it was quintessential Dean. 🤣

And I just want to say thank you for giving Dean the kinda "homemaker" role in this fic. The fact that he's making food for the reader (I'm obsessed with men who can cook) and taking care of her is just:

Omg yeesss, I love malewife Dean lmao. He's just such a caretaker at heart, and an awesome cook! I can so picture him making big breakfasts for his kids on weekends and packing their lunches for school. 🥹

Oh no Dean, you're not like the Cabin in that way. The cabin is made of strong aged wood that keeps out the chill and is full of warmth! The cabin withstands the elements and doesn't fall no matter how hard the howling wind blows! Dang it, I have way too many emotions over that line. Alex, why did you have to do this to me 😭 It's SO GOOD!!

Dean's self-deprecating angst is like a necessary evil for his character. I'm so glad the cabin metaphor resonated with you the way I intended, even if it breaks my heart too!! 😭😭💙💙

And I'm not sure if you were trying to say that the reader was also a little skeptical about the true mates and if it is a real thing that happens, but I can't wait for part 2 to see if they actually admit it to each other or if they try to keep it a secret as long as they can! Also the song choice perfectly fits the vibes in this fic 👌��

Oh yeah, there's some of that too! She's more open to it now than Dean, but I thought we needed some realism where she's also skeptical true mates are even real -- until she met Dean. How strongly they both are reacting to each other physically, but not wanting to admit it yet, and the reader just wanting to know more about Dean before she begins to trust him, all of that is going to continue playing out in Part 2. 💓💓

Oh thank you on the song choice!! Of course Bob Seger has featured on the show in a big way with "Night Moves," so I thought "Against the Wind" felt very Dean, especially in a post-S15 AU.

My lovely friend, this was so good and I can't wait for part 2!!!

Thank you sooooo very much, my friend!! 🥹🥹 Part 2 is dropping later today!! 🥳💕💕

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels. 

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity. 

Alpha. 

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth. 

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.  

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone. 

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious. 

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes. 

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral. 

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means. 

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time. 

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less. 

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs. 

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that. 

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that. 

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch. 

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes. 

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into. 

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.  

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.” 

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone. 

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.  

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.  

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here. 

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night. 

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.” 

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled. 

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

 You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile. 

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.” 

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think. 

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. 

“Wow,” he says. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.  

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player. 

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand. 

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.” 

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.  

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. ���This thing is so expensive.” 

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.  

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips. 

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him. 

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work. 

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood. 

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest. 

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room. 

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know. 

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong. 

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic… 

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it. 

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them. 

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right. 

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally. 

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”  

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment. 

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly. 

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his. 

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed. 

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

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[wolvietxt]

Could you do Logan Howlett + priorities in the miscommunication prompt? ❤️

one character believes the other is prioritizing someone else over them, feeling hurt and neglected. after a heartfelt confrontation, the other explains their actions, and they find comfort in understanding their connection remains just as strong.

LOGAN had always been hard to read, his gruff exterior a carefully constructed wall that rarely came down. you’d learned to navigate it, to understand the subtle shifts in his tone and the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability he allowed you to see. but lately, it felt like those moments had vanished altogether.

every time you tried to talk to him, he seemed preoccupied, his focus drawn to someone or something else. it wasn’t unusual for jean to need his help - her calm presence often balanced his rough edges - but it felt different this time. more constant, more consuming. and no matter how much you tried to push the thought away, the knot in your chest grew tighter with each passing day.

that evening, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, absentmindedly stirring a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. the quiet buzz of the mansion surrounded you, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying every moment logan had walked past you without so much as a glance, every time his voice softened when speaking to jean in a way it hadn’t with you recently.

“what’s eatin’ ya?”

the gravelly voice startled you, and you turned to see logan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. his brow was furrowed, but there was something softer in his eyes, a flicker of concern that made your throat tighten.

“nothing,” you muttered, looking away. “just tired.”

“ain’t buyin’ that.” he stepped closer, his boots heavy against the tiled floor. “been quiet lately. somethin’ happen?”

his tone was genuine, but the frustration bubbling beneath your skin refused to be ignored. you set the mug down with more force than necessary, the clink echoing in the room.

“maybe you should ask jean,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

logan’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” you said, turning to face him fully, “that you’ve been spending more time with her than with me. it’s like i’m not even here anymore.”

his jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. but instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “jean needed help with some stuff. ain’t nothin’ more than that.”

“it doesn’t feel like nothing,” you said, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “every time i turn around, you’re with her. and i get it, logan. she’s… she’s amazing. but it hurts, okay? it feels like you’d rather be with her than with me.”

his eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he stepped closer. “that ain’t true,” he said quietly. “jean… she’s been strugglin’ with some things. i was just tryin’ to help her out.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” the question came out as a whisper, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. “why do you always shut me out?”

logan exhaled heavily, his gaze dropping to the floor. “guess i didn’t wanna burden ya. you’ve got enough on your plate without me addin’ to it.”

“so instead, you made me feel like i wasn’t enough,” you said, the weight of your own words pressing down on you. “logan, ‘m here for you. i want to be here for you. but i can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”

he looked up, and for the first time in days, you saw a crack in his armor. his expression was a mix of regret and something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the words gruff but sincere. “you’re right. i shoulda told ya what was goin’ on instead of makin’ ya feel like this. it ain’t fair to ya.”

you blinked, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over. “i just… i just needed to know i wasn’t losing you.”

he closed the distance between you in two quick strides, his hands gently gripping your arms as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “you ain’t losin’ me,” he said firmly. “that’s the last damn thing that’ll ever happen.”

the sincerity in his voice, the way his fingers curled slightly as if afraid you’d pull away, broke through the last of your defenses. you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his chest as his arms wrapped around you, solid and reassuring.

“i’m sorry too,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. “for assuming the worst.”

“nah,” he said, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “you had every right to call me out. i’ve been actin’ like a damn fool.”

you let out a small laugh, the tension in your chest easing as his hand traced soothing circles along your back. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet between you no longer heavy but comforting.

“next time,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him, “promise me you’ll talk to me. no more shutting me out.”

his lips quirked into a faint smile, one that reached his eyes. “promise.”

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, lingering there for a moment as if grounding himself in your presence. the gesture was simple but full of meaning, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he.

you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of misunderstanding finally lifting. and though the road ahead might still have its bumps, you knew you’d face them together - no walls, no secrets, just the unshakable bond that held you both steady.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[wethotcrazy]

LET'S PLAY A FEW

pairing: Zhou Guanyu x Streamer! Reader

word count:

i have been cooking this up in my brain for so long now, like it has been weeks that i've been meaning to writea guanyu fanfic and now here it is yippie also i wrote this because guanyu is very dear to me and i am just gutted that he wont be racing next year

The stream was alive with the low hum of background music and the click-clack of Y/N’s keyboard. Her Tuesday night streams were a familiar routine for her viewers—three hours of CSGO, now smoothly transitioning into Valorant. She’d solo queued, half-focused on the game, half-focused on her chat. It was a relaxed vibe tonight, her soft voice filling the gaps as she responded to questions.

“Y/N, who’s your favorite agent?” one viewer asked.

“Hmm, depends on the day,” Y/N mused, squinting at the game. “But I’m leaning toward Jett lately. Fast, flashy… plus, I’m a sucker for knives.” Her words were accompanied by the sharp sound of her clicking through weapons.

Her team switched to defense. She’d been holding B site alone and wasn’t too concerned. “It’s always quiet until it’s not,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she scanned the entry points.

And then it wasn’t quiet.

The enemy team pushed hard—four, no, five enemies storming the site. Y/N’s demeanor shifted instantly. She stopped talking mid-sentence, leaning forward, her entire focus honed in. Chat knew what was happening. They’d seen this mode before.

One.

Two.

Three clean headshots in rapid succession. Her chat erupted.

“SHE’S COOKING,” someone spammed.

“Demon time activated,” wrote another.

Four down, one left. Y/N’s crosshair tracked, and with one swift flick—the fifth player dropped.

“ACE!” Chat’s excitement exploded, emotes and all-caps filling the screen.

“Nice ace,” a voice said, calm and steady. Y/N’s body went rigid as a soft kiss landed on the crown of her head. Her breath caught in her chest.

Slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it, she turned her head to see Zhou Guanyu standing there, his face calm as ever, hands in his sweatpants pockets. His eyes met hers with an easy grin, one he’d worn countless times but somehow always made her heart stutter.

“Are you solo queuing right now? Want me to hop on?” he asked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N’s mouth opened, but it took her a moment to find the words. The situation wasn’t particularly funny, but a wave of giddy laughter poured out of her—that helpless, uncontrollable kind.

“I’m… I’m streaming right now, Bǎobǎo,” she said through breaths of laughter, wiping at her eyes.

Guanyu’s eyes flickered toward her monitor, realizing what had just happened. His gaze shifted to the camera. “Oh. Hi, chat,” he said with a casual wave like it was any other Tuesday night.

Pandemonium.

Chat’s messages scrolled too fast for Y/N to read. Everyone was freaking out. The calm, private nature of their relationship had only left the fans guessing. Speculation had been rampant, but this? This was confirmation.

“NO WAY THAT’S GUANYU.”

“WTF OKAY BOYFRIEND REVEAL.”

“Bǎobǎo?????????”

Y/N’s face was red as she tried to focus on the chat. “Alright, alright, calm down,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. She glanced up at Guanyu, still grinning like a fool. “You’re unbelievable.”

Guanyu’s only response was to tilt his head, his grin never wavering. “You’re the one who’s blushing,” he teased before walking off toward the kitchen.

Three years earlier, Guanyu had been just another viewer in Y/N’s chat—a regular with a verified checkmark that made him stand out. People recognized his name, but Y/N didn’t at first.

“Zhou Guanyu…” she read aloud, squinting at the name in her chat. “That’s… a Formula 1 driver, right? Chat, you’re messing with me.”

“No, it’s actually him!” chat exploded.

Sure enough, he’d donated with a message: “Big fan of your streams. If you’re ever down for games, I’m in.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “No way that’s real,” she muttered, half-laughing. But over the next few weeks, his presence became a regular occurrence. Guanyu’s name appeared in her chat, his playful comments lighting up the screen.

Then one day, he sent a Discord invite.

“Let’s play a few,” his message read.

He wasn’t what she expected. His sense of humor was sharp but subtle. He wasn’t loud, but he was confident. Their first few games were filled with banter and easy laughter. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just "streamer and viewer" and became… more.

Soon, he’d hop into her streams without warning. His voice was instantly recognizable. Their interactions sparked thousands of clips on Twitch. Fans flooded her social media with theories. “Are they together?” became the constant question. They never confirmed or denied it, and after a while, the frenzy died down.

But when Guanyu’s race schedule allowed, he’d appear on her stream. Sometimes he’d just be a voice in the background, sometimes he’d play with her on-stream, and sometimes, like today, he’d forget she was streaming entirely.

Back in the present, Y/N’s chat was still in shambles. Guanyu’s sudden appearance had sent them into a spiral, and Y/N’s notifications were pinging nonstop. She’d read a few messages aloud, fighting the urge to laugh all over again.

“‘Tell him to come back’… No, he’s probably playing with Sweet Corn right now,” she joked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Does he call you Bǎobǎo?’” she read, the grin on her face growing wider. “Yeah, yeah, he does that sometimes. It’s…” She trailed off, her cheeks burning again. “Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Guanyu wandered back in with a bowl of fruit in hand, offering her a piece of mango. She took it with a raised brow. “You’re a menace, you know that?” she said, still half-laughing.

“Mmm,” Guanyu hummed in response, popping a piece of mango into his mouth. “You love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she said softly, her voice quieter this time, almost just for him.

Chat caught every word.