#i want to wake up and have it all be okay

[liliavanrougelover]

the housewardens (and if possible also vice housewardens but not needed) with a reader that refuses to get up without a good morning kiss. like, they'll just lie in bed until they get a good morning kiss. then if one day they don't get one, they're pouting the whole day and just in a grumpy mood

No kisses?

Characters: Housewardens and vice housewardens

Warnings: Rook

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I'm a master procrastinator

Riddle Rosehearts:

He always gives you kisses anyways, it’s the best way to start his day after all

It’s how he wakes you up in the morning

A gentle kiss and a “Good morning”

If he does forget, he’ll be confused why you’re so upset during the day and when you tell him why he feels guilty

He apologizes for forgetting. Like a formal apology. “I, Riddle Rosehearts, would like to apologize…” etc.

As an alarm blares on his bedside table, Riddle slowly comes to consciousness. He lazily reaches over and turns his alarm off. He sits up and sleepily rubs his eyes. As he hears a yawn, he looks over to see his partner stirring from their sleep as well. He smiles and leans over to plant a gentle kiss on their forehead. “Good morning, my rose,” He whispers. And to Riddle, the only reciprocation he needs is the tired smile that comes to his partner's face.

Trey Clover:

He woke you up normally before

Just slightly shakes you and calls your name

When you tell him you want a good morning kiss, he’s fine with that

He wakes you up, kisses you, and gets ready for the day

He also gives you one after you both get dressed and have to part ways

If he does forget, he feels bad but also isn’t surprised that he forgot

He has a lot on his plate, okay? Of course he would forget something so small

But he’ll make it up by giving as many kisses as you want before bed

Trey's eyes softly flutter open as the morning sun kisses his face. He sits up and stretches, letting out a content hum as his back pops. He turns over to his partner and calls their name, his voice soft and husky. When they stir, he smiles at them. He leans over and gives them a gentle kiss before he gets up and gently urges them to get out of bed and start the day.

Leona Kingscholar:

Good grief

He doesn’t give you a kiss

Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he wants you to stay in bed with him

If he does have to get up, he’ll give you a quick kiss and then go about his day

He doesn’t forget. Ever. It’s the one thing that stays consistent every day.

Most days he doesn’t give you a kiss until Ruggie drags him (and you) out of bed

The morning sun shines into Leona’s room and falls across his eyes, waking the lazy lion from his sleep. He growls and turns over looking for his partner. He moves close and pulls them into his arms. When they finally wake up, he sleepily greets them. He keeps his arms around them, laying in silence. Eventually the peace is broken as Ruggie comes in and pulls the blankets away from them, telling Leona to get up. Leona growls but obliges. He gives his partner a gentle kiss before finally getting ready for the day.

Ruggie Bucchi:

When he wakes up, he already has a lot to do so he doesn’t really take time to wake you up

If you wake when he does he’ll say a quick “good morning” before leaving

On the days where he doesn’t really have any work to do, he’ll stay in bed with you for a while

He’ll tell you about the dream he had, how much he doesn’t want to start the day, asks if he can copy your homework and anything else that comes to his mind.

When he does learn that you want a good morning kiss every morning, he’ll try his best

He doesn’t forget, but there are times where he does have to rush out the door and he’ll apologize later in the day

He’ll make up for any kisses when you two are about to go to sleep

As an alarm rings, Ruggie reaches over to his end table and turns the alarm off. He gets out of bed and walks over to his closet, getting changed quickly. He walks back over to his bed and gently wakes his partner. He gives them a kiss and rushes out the door to go work.

Azul Ashengrotto:

He usually just wakes you up by shaking you and calling your name

The first thing he does is wake you, says “good morning” and then gets dressed

When he learns that you won’t get up without a good morning kiss, he’ll be a bit reluctant but do it anyways

It’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss you, He’s just flustered at the idea (he gets more used to it as time goes on.)

When he forgets, he apologizes by having the tweels drag you to his VIP room and giving as many kisses as you want for compensation. He can’t be in your debt, after all.

He’s surprised to find out that he loves it. He loves kissing you in the morning and he loves when you kiss him in the morning

Don’t tell anyone though. If the tweels heard, they wouldn’t let him live it down.

Azul blinks his eyes open, groggily staring at the ceiling. He yawns and sits up, stretching his arms behind his back and sighing in content when his back pops. He looks over to where his partner still sleeps. He gently smiles as he takes a moment to admire them. He finally wakes them and gives them a small kiss and gets the same back from them. After another moment of admiring them, he stands and goes to get dressed.

Jade Leech:

He sometimes wakes you up with breakfast in bed (Floyd has complained about not getting his own breakfast.)

Other times he simply wakes you up with a call of your name and a little shake.

When he learns that you like good morning kisses, who is he to deny you?

Now he sometimes wakes you up to breakfast in bed with a side of kisses. And other times just kisses. And yes, that’s kisses with an “s.” He gives you multiple.

He doesn’t forget to kiss you. If he doesn’t kiss you, it’s because he finds it amusing when you’re upset over something so small.

But most of the times, he’s a good boyfriend and gives you the kisses you want

As Jade’s alarm goes off, he sits up and rubs his eyes. He turns the alarm off and turns over to see his partner still dead asleep. He calls their name and gently shakes them awake. And when they finally crack their eyes open to look at him, he leans over and kisses them. “Good morning,” he says. He stands up and stretches his arms above his head and then smiles down at his partner. “Would you mind waking Floyd while I get changed?” Oh dear, looks like his partner’s fallen asleep again.

Kalim Al-Asim:

He doesn’t usually wake up before you. Jamil wakes him up at 7- 7:30 in the morning

If you wake up before him, then you’ll have to wake him up yourself. And if you don’t, then you’ll have Jamil wake you up

He gives you kisses anyways.

He always greets you with a kiss, which includes waking up in the morning

When he forgets, he feels so bad. He’s apologizing so much while kissing every inch of your face

But he loves kissing you. The best part of his day. When he wakes up early he spends the entire time giving you kisses after every sentence he says

It was one of the few days where Kalim woke up on his own. The morning sunlight streamed into his room, leaving his room in a beautiful golden glow. He sat up, yawned and sleepily rubbed at his eyes. He turned to see his partner waking up as the sun shone on their eyes making them scoot closer to him. He giggled and leaned over, planting a kiss on their temple.

Jamil Viper:

He usually has to rush himself in the morning. Like Ruggie, he has work the moment his eyes open.

He does wake you up before he leaves. And it’s usually with a kiss.

When he has the chance to sleep in, he’ll wake you up with kisses and just lay in your arms, letting his worries melt away

When he doesn’t kiss you and you get upset, he apologizes but also tells you that he does need to work

He makes it up to you by making you’re favorite meal

Jamil’s eyes slowly flutter open as he gains consciousness. He sits up and rubs his eyes. He looks over at his lover, sleeping peacefully. A soft smile paints his face as he looks at their peaceful appearance. He moves closer and wraps his arms around their neck before planting kisses all over their face.

Vil Schoenheit:

He wakes up fairly early. Not because he has work, but because he has the “early bird gets the worm” mentality

He wakes you up after his shower so that you won’t have to wait to take your own.

He doesn’t kiss you unless you ask him to. He doesn’t know where your boundaries are, you need to tell him.

He will give you as many kisses as you want before he does his makeup.

If he ever forgets, he’ll give you as many kisses as you want along with a mini spa in his dorm room

Vil sits up in bed and turns off his alarm on the bedside table. He gets out of bed and goes through his usual morning routine. Washing his face, brushing his teeth, taking a shower and brushing his hair. After that, he walks back to his bed and sits down next to his partner. He calls their name and plants a gentle kiss on their forehead. “It’s time to wake up, darling,” he gently tells them as they stir from their sleep.

Rook Hunt:

I’m sure I’ve said this before, but he never sleeps. He just lays next to you while you sleep. And he wakes you up when your alarm goes off.

When he learns you want a good morning kiss, who is he to refuse? So he wakes you up with a forehead kiss.

And once you get up and get ready, he gives you another kiss

And he never forgets. Ever. The only times he doesn’t kiss you is because was busy. And he makes sure to kiss you everytime he sees you throughout the day to make up for it.

The moment the alarm goes off, Rook reaches for the bedside table and turns it off. He turns to his partner who's nestled comfortably in his arms. “Darling,” he softly calls, rousing them from their slumber. “Good morning,” He says, planting a soft kiss on their forehead.

Idia Shroud:

He doesn’t usually wake you up. Ortho does. He wakes both of you up, and Idia says good morning, gets up, and goes about his day.

When you tell him you need a good morning kiss, he shuts down. He needs to be rebooted like he’s the robot.

He’ll do it, it just makes him very nervous.

He will occasionally forget, but Ortho reminds him before the day actually starts so it never becomes a problem

Ortho himself will give you a good morning hug

“Time to wake up,” Ortho says, floating into Idia’s room with an inhuman amount of energy. Idia groans and rolls over to wrap his arms around his partner. Ortho grabs his blankets and starts pulling, urging them to get out of bed. Idia drops a kiss on his partner's forehead and then rolls out of bed.

Malleus Draconia:

He already wakes you up with a kiss. Every morning without fail.

When he learns that you want that, he’s happy that you two were on the same page about good morning kisses

He also wants one from you as well

He never forgets. Ever. Not once in his life. It’s the best part of his day.

It doesn’t matter how busy his day is, he’ll give you a kiss and get his kiss in return

Malleus’s eyes flutter open as the sun peeks through the curtains of his window. He sits up and yawns. He turns to his lover just in time to see them pull the blanket over their head. He chuckles and leans over them, “It’s time to get up, love,” He gently says, pulling the blanket down. He kisses their temple and then urges them to give him a kiss as well.

Lilia Vanrouge:

He won’t get up in time to do so. He always has to rush to class because nobody can wake him up

On the mornings that he does, he will give you all the kisses you want. He might even be late because he was kissing you

When he learns that you want good morning kisses every morning, he decides to set an alarm. 100 alarms. None of them wake him up.

But that’s fine. He’ll just make it up to you by kissing you ten times everytime he sees you.

As the sun shines into the curtains and falls across Lilia’s eyes, the fae growls. He pulls the blanket over his head and cuddles up to his partner. “Close the curtains,” he whines, nudging them. He climbs on top of them, the blanket still over his head, and starts planting kisses all over their face.

[alllovenohate7]

I’d always do anything for her. The one. The hardest thing is not seeing her everyday anymore and being able to talk to them about anything whenever we wanted. Not being able to just get a quick look to refresh the only beautiful thing in life and give me hope. Give me strength. And really just so I can look into her eyes. No words. No physical contact. I just wanted to look at the most stunning green eyes I’ll ever see. Cached in my memories are a perfect soul. Playing on repeat as it begins to rain in this quiet room. A good morning with a goddess’s smile receives a small token of my appreciation for her. I miss giving. I haven’t been able to tell her how beautiful she is. I miss her smile whenever I had a chance to remind her she looked beautiful. I made sure to remind her so she would smile. I never wanted to miss an opportunity or a chance to make her happy and make her smile. She was my first real everlasting crush and it stood firm until I fell. And I fell hard. Because I always had this feeling but now, now I was done. After this one moment that I won’t ever forget she was waking by me. Black boots, jeans, and a sweater following behind her as her hair waved with each step. The lights shining down as it god sent her. I looked at her in such awe as she walked by. As she took each step the feeling grew stronger and stronger. I felt it and I knew right away. I said to myself “wow” and I knew. My heart knew. I grew nervous. Her contagious laugh is so soft and pure, it would get me too. I miss asking, did I tell you how much you mean to me today? I miss being there to lift her up when she was down. I miss helping wipe away the tears of the strongest person I know. Shedding tears of the past I so desperately wanted to help rid of. I miss being supportive when others weren’t and didn’t want to be. I want to always be there when she was down and everything else is wrong. I want to be the one right thing in her life no matter what was going left. I want to keep her right. I want to keep her safe as she made when I was with her. Was I was with her everything feel alright. The sound of her voice could soothe me. It could heal me with just a few words. I miss talking about our future and plans being made to fulfill our dreams. I miss sharing every detail with her. I miss hearing empathy in her voice when she wanted to know if I was okay when if I wasn’t. She could give the strength and I mean strength that brings confidence with it. I want to give her everything she deserves and everything she desires yet leave nothing for myself. I want to be her crutch with her legs felt weak to carry it by herself. I want to take the weight off her shoulders and carry it as my own so she can feel free. Her presence would calm me while her spirit rejuvenated my soul. Did my heart find true love or did I let my guard down after years of healing an old wound. When she wasn’t around I felt empty. Nothing and no one person would ever come before her. There’s never been another name or person for as long I’ve loved her. Ever. The sacred meaning behind faith. I know the pain from this and I’d never do that to someone. It’s incredibly life altering and I don’t think it goes away, the real pain that follows it. I wish she could see herself through my eyes and know what I know. See what I see. And the truth in what she asks or thinks. In that moment though when I knew, I saw the next 50 years of my life and I see it with my best friend. I’d give it all up for her. More than most things in life, I miss exchanging I love you before we departed ways. It’s all I ever needed or had at times. Just to hear sometimes. To hold onto. Those three words that have an incredible meaning we don’t usually talk about. Words. Those few words have a powerful impact. Words have profound meaning and is the basis of all things. Those few words allowed me to know that I was real and that I existed. Just a few words can mean everything.

I’ll always do anything for her.

I love you.

♍️ ♉️ 🐝

[russo-woso]

Built up stress || Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning Postpartum, Arguing

Summary You don’t listen to your doctor after the birth of your baby, making an argument break out between you and Alessia

-> Part of the New Adventure Universe

“Baby, you go sit down, I’ve got this.” Alessia told you, taking the broom from your hand.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” You replied, sweeping being an easy and quick job.

“You gave birth five days ago, you need to be resting.” Alessia pointed out

“I’m fine though. Let me do it.”

“No. You need to be resting.” Alessia repeated

“No I don’t. I’m perfectly fine.” You told her, taking the broom from her and continuing to sweep.

“Go sit down. I’ve got this. Florence is sleeping so you can get some sleep if you need to.”

“What I need is for you to stop treating me like a baby.” You snapped. You don’t know what it was - maybe the lack of sleep or the hormones - but you were sick and tired of being treated like a baby.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t. The past five days all you’ve done is treated me like I’m on my death bed. I gave birth, I didn’t have a stroke.” You exclaimed, rising your voice slightly.

“Are you hearing yourself? You gave birth, Y/N! That’s not nothing. I watched you push your body to new limits giving birth to Florence. I’m not going to sit there and let you do the housework.” Alessia shouted

“You’re not my mother, Alessia, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m your wife though, and as your wife I’m telling you to go and relax.”

“I said no.”

“I… I can’t do this. I’m going for a walk.”

And with that, Alessia left the house.

The door closed with a bang, causing cries to fill the house.

You walked through to the living room, picking Florence up from her bassinet and holding her close.

“It’s okay, bubba, mama’s here.” You whispered through tears, kissing her head gently.

You managed to put her down again without waking her.

Tears streamed down your face as you remembered the argument just moments ago.

You laid on the sofa, sobbing into the pillows.

Your sobs died down as your eyes grew closed with sleep.

You must have been asleep for at least two hours because when you awoke, the sky was a dark blue.

You sat up, still half asleep. Rubbing your eyes, you focused on Florence who was fast asleep on Alessia’s chest.

Alessia’s cheeks were stained with tear marks, her eyes still red.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’m so sorry.” Alessia sobbed, her body shaking as tears fell down her cheeks.

“Alessia, I have been able to do nothing for the past five months because you haven’t let me. I thought that when she arrived, you’d let me start doing more stuff. But no. I feel like I’m trapped. The past five days all I’ve done is, feed her, change her, put her to sleep. It’s a non stop cycle. The one thing I want to do is do something different, even if it is sweeping the kitchen floor. And I can’t even do that. I just want you to let me start doing more stuff.” You explained, moving to sit down next to her.

Alessia nodded, gathering herself before speaking.

“I’m just worried. You’ve already pushed yourself so far, with the pregnancy and the birth. I thought that it was now my turn to do everything, to thank you for bringing her into this world.”

“Less… you haven’t done nothing. You have been my rock the whole way through the pregnancy. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. You have given me the best thing, lessi, you’ve given me her. And that alone is by far nothing. You have been the best mummy the past few days. You’ve been up every time I’ve fed Wren, you’ve changed her so many times, you burp her, you settle her. So please don’t think you haven’t done enough.” You told her, kissing her cheek as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“I still left you alone.”

“You did and that’ll take a lot to make up for it, but the tension was high and I understand why you left. But now we both know each other’s thoughts, what happened earlier won’t happen again.”

“It won’t. I’m sorry, baby.” Alessia whispered against your forehead.

“It’s okay, but please, let me do more stuff. Just small stuff like sweeping and doing the dishes, that’s all I want.” You told her

“I promise I’ll be a bit more lenient.”

“Good. Now, argument over?”

“Argument over.” Alessia declared, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

A cry interrupted the kiss, the two of you looking down to see Florence’s face turn red, followed by a scream.

“Looks like someone hungry.”

[ssahotchnerr]

love ur writing!! 🥰😌

would love to see a one shot (or anything tbh) of reader waking up early on vday hoping to make aaron breakfast but he’s beat her to it instead! she just wanted to do something nice for him since he takes care of everyone else but he’s physically incapable of not taking care of her!!

a sweet start

thank you🫶🏻!!! ugh aaron and valentine's day is my favorite thing ever <333 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, descriptions of food, a lot of fluff 🥰

Your phone vibrated beneath your pillow, rousing you from what had been a restful sleep. You had purposely set the alarm low, needing it to be enough to awake you, but not so much as to disturb Aaron.

It was early. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, the bedroom still profusely dark. It was only six, but the hour would guarantee you the time you needed.

You quickly clicked it off, holding still for a moment before looking over your shoulder to ensure he hadn't stirred - your morning plans depended on it. But to your surprise, you found Aaron's side of the bed completely empty.

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, you fumbled with your robe, tripping over your feet as you slipped into your slippers.

You found Aaron in the kitchen; still in his pajamas, standing at the stove with a soft concentration. A bouquet of red roses was perched on the counter, catching your eye and sending a flutter through your chest. Sweet man.

The savory scent of buttery eggs, melting cheese and a touch of spice filled your nose as you inched closer. The floor creaked underneath your feet, causing him to turn.

"Morning sweetheart."

"What are you doing up?" You asked, your words laced with a yawn.

"Making you breakfast," Aaron grinned, averting his focus to fold over the omelet in the skillet. "Happy Valentine's Day."

You sidled up to him, allowing him to throw an arm around you and chastely pressing a kiss to your temple. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

Your words left you softly, causing him to crane his head down, lips in a soft smile before he brought them to yours, kissing you adoringly. You smiled into the kiss, and he mumbled an I love you.

"You're up early." He commented once he pulled away, filled with a light sense of urgency - fear your omelet would burn.

You burrowed into his side as much as you could, trying to soak up as much warmth as possible. Aaron, in his simple t-shirt, felt like a furnace against you. "You had the same idea as me."

His spatula slowed as he soaked in your sentence. His gaze shot to you with some alarm in his eyes - the sudden guilt of spoiling your plans.

"No no no," you laughed gently, kissing him once. Twice. "It's okay, I promise. I still have surprises planned. I just wanted to do something for you. You’re always giving so much - whether it's for me, your team, or anyone who needs you. I wanted to remind you that you deserve to be cared for, just as much as you care for everyone else."

"That's crazy talk. Sweetheart..." He trailed off as he transferred your omelet to a plate, turning off the burners as a safety precaution.

Aaron leaned back against the counter and pulled you forward at the hips, so casually and natural it brought a blush to your cheeks. "Don't even get me started on how much you do for me. Truly. You're here when I come home each day. You support me and understand when I don't. You remind me that despite the horrors I'm subject to encounter daily, there's still good in the world. You've accepted Jack with open, loving arms."

Your expression softened, your lips pouting slightly in a flattered manner.

"You're just, here. My shoulder to lean on. That's all I can ask for and as a result, this is the least I can do. Although you deserve it every day, I want you to have the perfect day today. I intend to go all out."

"I already am, simply because I have you." You wrapped your arms firmly around his middle, closing the gap between the two of you. "How in the world did I get so lucky?"

"That's funny, I was asking myself the same question."

"Thank you for the flowers," you mumbled into chest, pressing a kiss right over his heart. "And thank you for loving me so deeply."

"It's the easiest thing I've ever done. Mean it." He squeezed his arms around you, letting up only to resume doting on you. "What kind of jelly do you want on your toast? Strawberry? Grape?"

"Surprise me." Your lips pulled into a gentle smile as you nestled back into his side, right where you belonged.

A grin tugged onto Aaron's face in return, reaching for the bread, "Anything for my valentine."

[linoxpudding]

Morning Cuddles - Yang Jeongin

*gif credit goes to owner*

summary: where you and boyfriend are obsessed with each other, which leads to lots of cuddles and giggles

pairing: yang jeongin x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 619 words

a/n: this is based on this request ♡ I had soo much writing this, I got carried away 🫣

-

morning cuddles series:

Bang Chan Lee Know Han Jisung Lee Felix

Masterlist

~°~

You wake up feeling the comforting heat of Jeongin’s arms wrapped securely around you. You sigh contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace, burying your face against his neck, where his skin is soft and smells like home.

Jeongin shifts slightly, groaning in protest at the movement before pulling you in even tighter. “No moving,” he mumbles sleepily. “It’s too early.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re the one who just moved,” you point out, voice still drowsy.

“That’s different,” he whines, his voice low and raspy from sleep. “I was just making sure you don’t escape.”

You giggle at that, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss against his jawline. “Why would I escape when I have the best cuddles right here?”

His arms tighten around you, pulling you on top of him completely. You let out a small gasp at the sudden shift, but you don’t complain.

“I like that answer,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and affection. “You’re so warm…”

“So are you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “We should just stay like this all day.”

He chuckles, a deep, sleepy sound that rumbles against your cheek. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

The two of you fall into silence, nothing but the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional sleepy sigh filling the air. Your fingers lazily card through his dark hair, brushing it back from his forehead, and he hums in appreciation, his eyes fluttering shut again.

Every so often, Jeongin presses gentle kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose, and each time, you giggle, nuzzling closer.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, sealing it with a kiss to his lips.

It’s slow and sweet, full of sleepiness and comfort. He sighs into it, a soft smile forming as he kisses you again, then again, as if he can’t get enough. His hands slide down to your waist, holding you there like he never wants to let go.

And honestly? You don’t either.

But then—

A loud, embarrassing growl echoes through the quiet room.

You freeze. Jeongin freezes.

Silence.

Then—

A snort escapes him, his chest shaking beneath you as he breaks into uncontrollable laughter. “Was that—was that your stomach?” he gasps between laughs.

You groan, burying your burning face in his chest. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not—” He absolutely is. “It was just so loud!”

Another grumble cuts through the air—this time, coming from him.

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Oh, so I’m not the only one starving?”

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his stomach. “Guess not.” Then he turns to you with a grin. “But you started it.”

You smack his arm playfully. “You started it by keeping me in bed all morning!”

“Excuse me? You were the one who didn’t want to move!”

You huff, poking his cheek. “Okay, but you were also clinging to me like an octopus.”

“And you weren’t?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile on your lips. “Fine, we were both being clingy.”

He grins, pressing a quick peck to your nose. “Exactly.”

You groan again, reluctantly shifting to sit up, but Jeongin whines in protest, arms still wrapped firmly around you. “Noooo, just five more minutes,” he pleads, his grip tightening.

You narrow your eyes. “We both know ‘five more minutes’ means another hour.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He nuzzles into your shoulder, placing another series of lazy kisses along your collarbone. “We don’t need food.”

Your stomach growls again—loud, insistent.

Jeongin sighs dramatically. “Okay, maybe we do. Let's go make breakfast.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Apple Pie Life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, threat of divorce, tired of coming in second

Summary: While Dean is out there saving the world, you’re back at home with your daughter wondering if you’re ever going to see him again or if he’s alive. There comes a point where you just can’t do it anymore so you bring up the one thing that will definitely destroy your relationship. Will Dean accept it or change who he is for you?

Square Filled: “So you think I’m broken? Fix me. ‘Cause I’m no quitter.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Alyssa crawls under the covers and hides her face, and you go tickling her to see where she’s at. Her giggles bring a smile to your face but you’re still so sad about your whole situation. You remove the covers from her head and smooth back her frizzy hair.

“Are you going to go to sleep this time?” you ask.

“Maaaybe,” she sings.

“Go to sleep and maybe I’ll make chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.” You kiss her head. “I love you, snugbug.”

“I love you too,” she grins. Her two front teeth are missing, but you can see the adult teeth peeking out from her gums. You get up to leave but her next words stop you. “Where’s Daddy?”

Just like that, the happiness is gone. Your heart cracks at her questions because you truly don’t know where he is. You don’t even know if he’s alive. Still, you can’t tell that to your six-year-old, so you tell her something that will bring her comfort.

“He’s with Uncle Sam right now.”

Good. Keep it vague.

“When is he gonna be back?”

“Soon. If you go to sleep, he might be here when you wake up.”

Alyssa snuggles in her blanket, eyes already closed. You turn off the light but keep the night light on before closing the door behind you. The tears want to come but you will them not to fall. You can’t cry right now. You have to pretend to be strong even if it’s killing you. You walk downstairs to the kitchen and pour yourself a big glass of wine. You take that glass to the couch in the living room, and you pull your phone out to call Dean.

Like always, he doesn’t answer. He sends you straight to voicemail, and a piece of your heart breaks off and turns to ash. You’re not sure how long you can do this for. Soon, there won’t be enough of your heart to give to him. You should be sleeping. You should be tucked under the covers and in a dreamless sleep, but you can’t sleep not knowing if Dean is alive or where he is.

So, you drink and when that glass is done, you pour another and continue drinking. You’re halfway through your third glass when the front door opens. Dean walks through and tries to be quiet for your sake, but you’re already jumping off the couch.

“Thank God. Where the hell were you? I called you, like twenty times.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was this pack of werewolves that refused to die. They broke my phone.” He proves this by pulling it out of his pocket. It’s true. It’s smashed to pieces. “Plus, we were in the mountains where the reception wasn’t that great, anyway.”

“Alyssa was asking about you.”

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “What did you say?”

“What I always tell her. That you’ll be here in the morning.” You let silence befall between you two. “Will you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mmm.” You walk toward the kitchen and put your lass into the sink. Now that you know he’s safe and alive, you can sleep. “Maybe stay more than a week this time, okay?”

“Y/N…”

“I’m going to bed.”

You leave him standing in the kitchen all alone, and he curses to himself once the bedroom door closes. The next morning, you wake to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, Alyssa knows better than to not mess with those on her own so Dean must have been telling the truth. He’s here. You really shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine. You have a small headache but knowing Dean is here makes the pain worth it.

You brush your teeth before going downstairs, and you see Alyssa on a step stool as she helps Dean mix the batter in a bowl. She’s the first one to see you standing in the doorway.

“Mommy! Daddy and I made pancakes!”

You smile at her enthusiasm. “It smells good, baby. Good job.” Dean pushes a plate of two pancakes to you, and you grab a fork. “Thanks.”

“Daddy said he was going to take me to the zoo this weekend! He also said that we can get as much ice cream as I can eat!”

“Is that right?” You look at Dean but instead of a happy smile on his face, he is racked with guilt. You know that look all too well. He’s not taking her to the zoo which means you’ll have to. “Alyssa, I’ll be taking you to the zoo.”

“Y/N--”

“What? I’m just saying it like how it is. You have work to do, don’t you?”

“Daddy?”

Dean is forced to confront reality and looks at Alyssa with a guilty face. “Alyssa, I just have to do something with Uncle Sammy. It won’t take long.”

“Can I come?”

You’re immediately put on alert but Dean isn’t stupid. He knows better than to put his daughter in danger.

“Not this time, baby.”

She stirs the batter but it’s not as happily as before.

“When will you be back?”

“I’ll try to be back before Friday.”

You look at your watch and widen when you see what time it is.

“Why don’t you get ready for school? The bus will be here in thirty minutes.”

You and Dean keep the peace as long as Alyssa is in the house. The second she hops onto the bus, you let it show just how pissed off you are with him. You walk back into the house and head straight to the kitchen to clean the mess they made. Your pancakes are left untouched; you’re not hungry anymore. Dean stays silent but he knows he has to say something to you even though he knows whatever he says won’t be of any comfort to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’re always sorry.”

“Don’t do that.”

You slam the plastic bowl onto the kitchen island a bit too hard, and splotches of batter land on the counter. “Are we not important to you?”

“You know that’s not it.”

“It seems like it is when you leave us behind. You’re not here, Dean. When she asks me where Daddy is or when he’s coming home, I never know what to fucking tell her because I don’t even know if you’re alive!”

Something dark crosses over Dean’s features. “This is the life, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know,” you scoff. You grab the batter bowl and toss it into the sink. You’ll clean it later. You grab a few paper towels and start to wipe the surface of the counter. “That’s always the excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse. It’s my life.”

“What about my life?!” you yell. “What about Alyssa’s life? You never see the disappointment in her eyes when I tell her that you’re not coming home. When will it be our turn to have you?”

It breaks your heart to even think about doing this, but you don’t know what else to do. You toss the paper towels into the trash and grab your purse. You pull out a packet of papers and slide them across the counter over to Dean.

“What is this?”

It hurts to even say these words but you know they have to be said. You want them to come out strong but they only come out as a whisper.

“I think the only way to save this family is to break it up.”

Dean grabs the papers and skims the first page.

“You want a divorce?”

You can’t meet Dean’s eyes. If you do, you’ll break down in tears and give in. You’re done bending to what he wants. It’s time you try and protect your fragile heart.

“I won’t ever keep Alyssa from you, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep wondering when the love of my life is going to come home, and if he does, will he be in one piece? I admire what you do and I know people need you, but I need you.” Your voice cracks and the tears come. “I’m losing weight, Dean. My eyes are sunken in. My head hurts all the damn time. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat properly. I can’t do this anymore.”

Dean crushes the papers in his hands and throws them onto the counter. He’s never been one to confront how he’s feeling, and this is one of those times. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t know how. He’d hate to do or say something he’d regret so he turns and storms out of the kitchen and out of the house. When the door slams behind him, you sink to the floor in tears.

It’s not like you don’t love him. You’re in love with him, but you can’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can’t keep waiting for death to come for you, Alyssa, or Dean.

Dean doesn’t know where to go but his brain is on overdrive. He drives straight back to the Bunker where Sam is. Dena has to talk to someone, he needs someone to tell him what to do because he doesn’t know what to do. Do you think he’s fine with leaving you for weeks at a time? It breaks his heart. He hates that you are living this hollow life. He knows you deserve more.

Sam knows something is wrong the second Dean walks into the war room, and he provides his brother with a listening ear. He knew this was coming. It was inevitable. When you live two lives, one of them always crumbles.

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks after Dean is done.

“I can’t lose her, Sammy, but if I continue doing what I’m doing, I will.”

Sam is silent for five minutes trying to find the right words to say.

“What if you let her go?” Dean looks at his brother with red-rimmed eyes. “What if letting her go is the only way to protect her? To protect both of them?”

“There has to be another way.” Dean puts his head down and actually cries. Sam has never seen his brother like this. A thought of realization crosses Dean’s mind, and he looks up at his brother. “There might be another way.”

Alyssa was disappointed when she got home from school and didn’t see Dean waiting there for her. You had to keep her distracted with a new toy, but you know this can’t go on like this for much longer. She’s getting older and smarter. She’ll figure out something is wrong with Mommy and Daddy fast.

She usually likes to stay up and watch movies with you, but she wants to go to bed early tonight. Maybe she’s hoping when she wakes up, Daddy will be there waiting for her. You’re downstairs with a glass of wine just staring at the divorce papers. The look on Dean’s face when he realized what they were… true heartbreak. It hurt for you to even bring this up, but you don’t know of any other way to make this work.

You have a pen in hand but you can’t seem to sign it. The front door opens and you look up to see Dean walk in. He’s back. You set the pen down but you don’t get up to greet him. You do set your glass of wine down on the kitchen island.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He walks into the light and you can tell he’d been crying for hours. His eyes are red and puffy, as you’re sure yours are. He sits next to you and looks at the papers. “Is this really what you want?”

“I don’t know any other way. It hurts when you’re not here. It hurts seeing you in pain. It just hurts so much.”

Dean grabs the pen but he doesn’t sign it. He just stares at it and thinks back to the conversation he had with his brother. There is a way to fix this. But if you don’t want it fixed, then he’ll sign.

“If I sign this, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back from it.”

“If you don’t, I don’t see how we can move on.”

He’s about to say something when a small voice comes from the top of the stairs. You both turn to see Alyssa in her pink pajamas holding the stuffed unicorn that Dean got her.

“Are you guys going to read me a bedtime story?”

You’re about to get up when Dean stops you. “Let me.”

Dean follows Alyssa to bed while you stay downstairs. You spent the entire time just staring at the divorce papers wondering if this is what you really want. Of course, it’s not. You don’t ever want to be apart from Dean. You love him so much. That’s why it hurts so much. Dean walks back downstairs thirty minutes later and rejoins you in the kitchen.

“Look, if we’re going to do this, I think it’s best if you leave before the morning.”

“No.”

You look at Dean. “What?”

“No, I’m not doing this. I’m not getting a divorce.”

“Dean…”

“No, listen to me. I never knew I could have what you have given to me. I thought I was going to die bloody and that was that. Then you came along and showed me there is more to this world than blood and gore. Then Alyssa came alone and I had the apple pie life I’ve always wanted. I hunt for you and her. I hunt to keep them away from you, but I now see it’s tearing you apart. So, you think I’m broken? Fix me. ‘Cause I’m no quitter. I’ll fix me. I’ll work better on us for us.”

Tears well in your eyes and roll down your cheeks in waves. “I don’t think you’re broken. Our system is broken. I love you, Dean, but I can’t keep coming in second.”

Dean grabs both of your hands and runs his thumbs across their backs.

“You don’t have to anymore. I talked to Sam. I’m out.”

You pull your hands back “Wait, what?”

“I’m done hunting. Sam agreed he’d call if he needs help researching, but I won’t be hunting anymore.”

“You love hunting,” you whisper.

He touches your cheek gently. “I love you more.”

“What about Sam? Who will do it with him?”

“Jody has a few girls she’s been training. Sam loves to teach. I think they’d be good with him. Plus, he has Eileen and Garth and Donna.”

You shake your head as you try to wrap your mind around this. “Wait, Dean, I can’t ask you to give up hunting. That’s who you are.”

“You are who I am. Alyssa is who I am. I’d do anything for you and that includes this. I’m okay with this decision, but I am not okay with divorcing you because I am not done loving you.” You break out in a fit of sobs and Dean pulls you closer to him. “I will always be here. I won’t leave anymore. Sam even found me a mechanic job near here.”

“You’d really do that for me?” you whisper, unable to believe it still.

“I’d burn the world for you.” You lean up and kiss him with everything you’ve got. He pulls away from you and grabs the divorce papers. He rips them to shreds and tosses them into the trash. “It’s me and you, okay?”

“Forever and always.”

Dean captures your lips again, this time, picking you up by your thighs. This isn’t going to fix everything but it’s one hell of a start.

x

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[steddieas-shegoes]

never not thinking of you

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "just in case you ever foolishly forget, i'm never not thinking of you" - virginia woolf

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 1009 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, friends to lovers, getting together, masturbation, handjobs

💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭

Eddie’s hand moves faster, his grip tightening as he closes his eyes.

“Fuck, yes,” Eddie bites his lip, remembering almost too late that he has to be as quiet as possible. Steve’s in the other bed, and this motel room is not big enough to mask his heavy panting.

It’s Steve’s fault anyway, walking out of their shared bathroom earlier with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair as he apologized and asked if Eddie had toothpaste since he forgot to pack some. Eddie barely managed to pull his own from his backpack and hold it out to Steve.

He pretended to be asleep the next time Steve came out of the bathroom.

That was a while ago, and Eddie’s been hard ever since. He kept trying to will it away, and even managed to almost fall asleep a while ago. But then Steve moaned in his sleep, quiet, probably just his body settling properly into sleep. It was enough for Eddie.

He knew he wasn’t gonna fall asleep until he got rid of the problem, but going into the bathroom would definitely wake Steve up, so he made the equally stupid decision to take care of it under the sheets of his bed.

He squeezes the base of his cock, biting the back of his other hand to stop a moan from escaping his throat.

Steve coughs. Eddie freezes.

People cough in their sleep all the time. Steve isn’t awake. He didn’t hear anything.

Eddie moves his hand up, rubs his thumb against the tip. He’s so wet, it’s gonna cause a mess.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is barely more than a whisper, like he doesn’t know for sure if Eddie’s awake and wouldn’t want to be the one to wake him if he isn’t.

He considers pretending he’s asleep, but honestly, he’s resolved himself to his fate. He’s never gonna come tonight, and he might as well be awake.

“Yeah?” He still hasn’t let go of his cock.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep.”

“You sound a little…worked up. Did you have a nightmare?”

Damn Steve. Genuinely, damn him to hell.

“Uh…nope. Just can’t sleep.”

The bed sinks next to Eddie and he wonders if maybe he did fall asleep and this is a dream. He’s terrified to turn his head as he feels Steve’s arm brush against his.

“Thinking too hard?” Steve asks casually, like he isn’t inches away from realizing Eddie’s hand is on his very hard, leaking dick.

“I guess,” Eddie hopes the answer is enough. He cannot possibly explain this to Steve and he doesn’t even want to try.

“What about?”

Steve’s looking at him; He feels the heat of his gaze on the side of his face. His hand is hot on his dick, almost burning him. All he can think about is Steve knowing he’s touching himself.

“Just the day. Tomorrow. Everything,” Eddie provides.

“Did something specific happen with the day to lead to you touching yourself in bed?”

Eddie groans. He moves his hand away now that he’s been caught, but Steve’s hand shoots out to stop him.

Steve’s hand is so close to his dick.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks again.

Eddie could lie, probably should lie.

“You.”

Steve’s next inhale is long, his exhale even longer.

“Me?”

“I’m never not thinking about you, Steve.”

Steve sits up, and the room isn’t quite dark enough to hide the look on his face. It’s like he’s learned the meaning of life, like someone told him a government secret. Which is silly, because he knows many government secrets, and most of the time his face did not look so awed.

“You do this a lot?” Steve sounds breathless. His hand shakily covers Eddie’s, a finger brushing against the side of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie nods, barely breathing. His chest constricts as Steve squeezes his hand.

“Steve, if you aren’t gonna be cool with my cum all over your hand, you probably should move it,” Eddie’s suddenly extremely close, something he’d been chasing for a while right at his– and Steve’s– fingertips.

“I wouldn’t have my hand there if it would bother me,” Steve laughs. “How long have you been touching yourself?”

“I think the first time was when I was 12? I didn’t know what I was doing though…”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs again, leans down to kiss his forehead. “I meant tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie whines as Steve’s hand pushes his to start stroking his own cock. “Fuck. Okay. Uh, I guess really only a few minutes in bed, but I’ve been hard for…a lot longer.”

“Did you hear me in the shower?” Steve asks.

“Hear you?”

“Yeah, I thought I was quiet, but maybe the fan wasn’t loud enough.”

The words are hard to follow because Steve’s hand is hot against Eddie’s, giving him a handjob while also not. Eddie’s hand is still the one moving, but Steve’s is the one making it move.

This is new and Eddie’s pretty sure it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Wait, you got off in the shower?” Eddie’s brain finally catches up to Steve’s words. “Why?”

“Because I’m never not thinking about you either, Eddie,” Steve grins at him, devilishly charming as always.

Eddie’s head is spinning and it’s not just because of the tight coil in his gut sending out warning signs that he’s gonna come any second. He’s floating out of his body as Steve admits that he’s apparently been thinking about Eddie in a not so innocent way, too.

A very sexy way, actually.

“Steve, I-” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist in warning. “I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, been waiting for it,” Steve encourages.

Minutes pass afterwards. There’s silence until Steve groans and rolls onto his back.

“Now I’m hard again,” he says.

Eddie’s ears perk up like a dog who just heard he’s getting a treat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You gonna do something about it?”

“Can I?”

Steve grabs his hand and pulls it over to his cock. “Please.”

[kiyzukiy]

Inevitable fate

Sypnosis: A story as old as time. A girl loving a boy and the boy loving another girl. Nothing to add or show but how you hoped this would be different.

Tags: any lads man x reader, any lads man x MC, reader is not mc, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta read

Author's note: Heya~ I'm fairly new to this and this is also my first post I've done this way. If I'm missing any tags please tell me. Otherwise I hope you enjoy <3

Have you waited to long? 

Some would say yes, could they witness your…rather disgraceful moment right now. There you stood. Out in the dark. Flowers in one hand. In the other his favorite snack and a handwritten note with all your feelings on it. You had hoped to surprise him. His surprise was bigger.

It was almost comically, really. A scene out of a movie. Life imitating art.

Unfortunate for you, this was no such moment. No one would spring out of the corner of the building and scream “prank!” and shove a camera in your face to record it for eternity. Upload it to some social media and get clicks for it or let it become a happy, albeit with embarrassment toned memory. 

You had the strong feeling, the longer you stood there, this was no such scene but reality. 

In silence you stood and watched them. A bit creepy, you would think to yourself if your brain would work right now on the right wavelengths.

It was like sick pleasure. 

Like watching a car wreck. 

Like a nature phenomenon that could kill you, and yet your eyes couldn't move away. 

The sweet scratch on a point you couldn't quite reach. So why did it slowly start to hurt? Did it start to bleed? Should you have left it alone?

Your body was rigid. So even if you wanted to, you couldn't move away. Leave. Like any other person would do. No. You were very focused on the moment that was going on right in front of you. Every sense that you had laser pointed, marked and sharp to the two people in front of you. 

Your friends warned you, didn't they? If you could remember, you would chastise yourself right now. Numerous excuses running around in your head that you gave them. He wasn't like that. It's more than that. He shows genuine interest. He is so sweet. He gave me flowers last week. There has to be something. 

What did your friends say? You couldn't remember. Your mind a jumbling mess. Numbing every thought. Thoughts jumping from one point to the other. Was it a lie? 

But then again what was the lie? You, or him? 

Look away. 

Now he was grasping her waist. Laughter rang in your ears. Was that her? Was that her laughing? With him? And oh how he laughed. Like spring bloom. Like butterflies kissing your cheeks. How the morning sun gently wakes you up with the promise of a new day. Like life. 

He never laughed that way with you. You wonder why. Was she different? More straightforward? More funny? More assertive? More…her? Who was she anyway? You didn't recognize her. No pictures of her in his home, nor on his phone. No story told with this appearance depicted. You could only guess and that guess didn't fill your cold veins with joy. A feeling of doom pooling in your stomach. 

They both seem to know eachother. Awfully comfortable with another too. Laughing, giggling and holding hands together. 

Look away. 

They were moving and simultaneously, you as well. Were you tailing them now? Oh you sick fuck, okay or was this just another thing of watching a car wreck burn. To prolong the moment? Fascinated and in awe that something like that truly happened. Normally you see this only on TV, on the news or just on social media. As if this would be daily life.

They haven't notice you yet so what’s the harm? Maybe this was the way you wanted to go first. You weren't failing them if you just so happen to walk the same way. It's not like they would notice you anyway. It's not like he would notice. To engrossed in the woman beside him that he was still talking with about who knows what. 

Jealousy reared it's ugly head in your heart. He was not like this with you. Not smiling like that, not keeping the conversation going like that. Genuine interest. No. You mistook it as such. Now you saw what his interest looks like. Engagement, excitement and wanting to listen.

A funny thought entered your head, if and when they spot you, you can just go over and do idle chit-chat like “oh hey. I'm just his friend that he was supposed to meet and yes, yes his dick is impressive. I know first hand. What is your experience with that?” 

Yeah. Right. That's what you are going to do. Let’s be real here, you could talk yourself into it but never following through with it because how could you? 

This is what your friends warned you about. 

Look away. 

What were you doing? Exactly? What was your plan? Idly following them to gather more evidence? For what? It's not like you need the evidence for anything as you were nothing to him anyway. 

You had no valid reason to be angry right now. No one said it should be exclusive. Why should you? You were. Just. Friends. Right? Your own words, when you saw his hesitation at your question what you both were. Friends with benefits if someone wants to be specific. 

So why should you take pictures of this moment? You couldn't shove it in his face and demand answers. You couldn't be angry the way you wanted to be. Oh, how you wanted to be angry right now. Raging and screaming. Throwing things at him and watch how he struggled to get a good excuse in. 

But you were only a friend or maybe something else entirely.

Maybe a cheap fuck. Maybe a good distraction. Maybe a stepping stone. Maybe the one to test things out on. Maybe…nothing more than to get the one who got away. 

Was that her? The one he always told you has long since slipped away? The one who assumably forgot about him and moved on? Is that her? With her long, ebony brown hair and expressive eyes? With her fit physique. Perfect nails, even better outfit. Though you wouldn't be surprised if you could dress her up the way you wanted to and she still would look stunning. With that step in her walk like she was excited to meet someone she hasn't seen in a while. Wild hands as she told a story and he listened. Oh? He listened. One more thing you could tick off of your list that he wouldn't do with you. Not in this way. No, not…in this way.

You couldn't deny it. She was beautiful. The longer you looked, watched, observed this was a fact. Well, in your mind you always could give her a nasty personality. Judge her only on her appearance. Could tell yourself that she got around in life because of her looks and not what she accomplished on her own. 

Even though that wouldn't help much. Even though that wouldn't be you. That's not you. You are not like that, but right now you wanted to crash out and not be yourself. Be mean, be vengeful, be hateful. And yet? A sad little smile on your face, you admitted to yourself that she was beautiful. Inside and out. You had a feeling that she was and she looked stunning right next to him. Fitting. Not…like you. 

Just one moment. Let yourself be. Even though it wouldn't help. Only you and your bruised ego over the fact that you went and gave your heart to the wrong man. Again. 

Look away.

Almost, right? Just almost. You haven't done it yet. Not completely. That was soothing, wasn't it? You haven't confessed yet. You wanted to. That was the whole plan of your meet up with him today. The whole sense behind you, now following them, getting flowers and his snack because women could woo men too. That was the plan. What a grand plan that was! 

You…had a plan. A cute picknick underneath the night sky. Watching the stars and professing your love and you both would enter a happy, healthy relationship. The end. 

Reality was but a cruel joke or your saving grace. Lucky you didn't do it. At least that's what you will tell yourself when you get home. In the mirror. Alone. Memories of you and him running on loop behind your eyes and you will ask yourself what you lack. But that was a problem for future you, wasn't it?

Look away! 

Pitter patter. You hear it before you feel it. You scoffed. Right, of course. Now this was rather ridiculous and might you add ironic of life. Why yes of course it would really rain right now. As if this wasn't movie worthy to begin with. Now you would be soaked when you get home as well. 

Well, at least you didn't confessed right? This can be another failed dating attempt you can gossip with your friends about. A small hihi haha story while they ramble on about who they dated last and what happend with that encounter. 

It would be funny. If you wouldn't hurt so much right now. Because this could have been perfect. This could have been your moment. He was the man. Kind, attentive, supportive and understanding. Alright, so what? Maybe you started as friends with benefits but you were friends and the sex was even better. Silly banter and an comfortable vibe between you. What else does a relationship need? 

This could have been it.

Please, look away sweetie.

Now he was touching her cheek. She was turning to him. Beneath a lamp post in the park. No body around. You still far away in the dark. Shivering, flowers soaked and still clutching that stupid snack in your hand. Knuckles turning white. Teeth grinding and jaw clenching. Against your better judgement you were angry. And sad. And disappointed. And so god damn hurt. Jesus, why did it hurt so much? You were nothing. Only the memories weren't nothing. They were real. Real interactions that made you fall in love. That made you giggle and laugh and reminiscence about what could be. What could have been. 

You wish you could hold your heart right now. Clench the shirt above your heart. Symbolic to the pain. The heavy weight on your chest that didn't let you breathe freely.

Would it happen now? That what the singers and poets always proclaim about? The deepest pain, the most lingering scar? Is this the moment where you will hear your heart shatter in the rain? 

They don't seem to be bothered by it. While everyone was flittering and running about to get underneath shelter, these two seem disgustingly happy that it was, in fact, raining. Oh to be sickingly in love so that you would gladly take the cold that would follow after such events. Being stone cold out, but the moment was beautiful. For them. At least. A story they could tell. Oh so romantic. Oh so loving, oh so beautiful. Re-enacted out of a book.

You would just be down with a cold and calling in sick because you just. Couldn't. Look. Away. 

Please, why? Look away, starlight. Come on. 

Ah, there it was. The moment. A movie. The scene. The setting. The light. Romance. Young, undisturbed love. A kiss. 

And you. Sticking out like a sore thumb. A watcher. A silent bystander to their rom-com. A witness to their happy end and ever after. 

They don't notice you. But you notice. You notice your heart plumpeting to the depths of the earth, only to burn in front of the events before you. You feel it break. Pain surges through your veins. To how many pieces can a beating heart shatter? Do you dare to count? Would it be the amount of the shared memories? Would it be the many times you wished to be more? How long would it take to put it back together? Would you ever get closure or would you continue on with the things in mind that you saw today? Could you pretend nothing happened and be quiet by his side? Don't you love yourself more than that?

Princess, look away. 

What were you to him for him to be able to do this with no second thought? Does he feel any guilt right now, any thoughts about you? Does he see you behind his eyes when they close in this intimate moment? 

It didn't seem this way. It more so felt like a punch to the gut to witness just how little you meant to him. Apparently. Evidently. Written and signed by him truly. 

Cutie…look away. 

And you do. With a shaking breath, you look away. One slugging step at the time, you turn away. Tears falling down your face as you look up to the sky and wonder: 

Have you waited too long?

[wlwsoccerfics]

Coughs & Sniffles (LotteWubben-MoyXKid Reader)

Summary: You are sick so Lotte didn't take you to daycare & takes you to practice with her.

You didn't feel good at all when you woke up in the middle of the night, so you started crying which resulted in your Mom being by your side quite fast, looking at you with worry written across her face.

"Mama!" Two year old you sobbed out. It was your second Birthday Last week. And before that day you were lucky enough to never really have gotten sick, expect from maybe a little sniffle here and there.

"what is it, little foot?" She asked and scooped you into her lap. You cuddled up to her right away.

"Mama , ouch!" You tried to explain. Pointing to your head and throat. And sure enough your started coughing and whimpered.

"oh my sweet Baby!" She whispered out. Rocking you gently in her lap so you would feel better ,after she handed you your little sippy Cup, that you always took to bed with you. She kissed your head gently.

"hug, hug." You told her. Trying to tell her that you wanted to stay all cuddled up to your mama. Lotte let the daycare know that you wouldn't come in for the rest of the week by using the App. She then carried you to her bed and laid down with you on top of her. She even handed you your pacifier. You usually don't use it anymore ,but you had asked for it and since you were sick Lotte let you have it.

You managed to sleep until 6am. So did Lotte. Well for the most part. She woke up a few times to Check on you whenever you would start coughing in your sleep. Thankfully you didn't wake up from those coughs cause you clearly needed that sleep. And honestly you were half asleep while she changed you from pjs into some sweatpants and your little Arsenal hoodie. Putting on some socks and then some fuzzy socks over it before she put your favorite pair of sneakers onto you. Not to forget the Arsenal Beanie .After you had your puffy coat on she wrapped a blanket around you. Pacifier in your mouth and your favorite stuffed bunny Momo in your arm. By the time your Mama had put you in your carseat you were fully sleeping again. Snoring cutely.

You reached the training grounds twenty minutes later. Lotte got you out of the Car, you didn't even blink. No you were fast asleep still. Cuddling up to your Mama in your sleep when she walked inside with you. You are wrapped up in the blanket.

The girls all turned to look at your Mama.

"hey Lotte, oh no is my sweet godbaby sick?" Alessia asked and walked over right away. she was not only one of your favorite people ever. No she was also your godmother.

Your Mama nodded her head softly she sighed.

"yes she has a cough and a runny nose." She answered. "She told me she wasn't feeling well." Lotte explained everything.

"poor Baby." Kyra replied with a pout. She hated to see you sick as well.

"but she looks so adorable like a Baby burrito!" Katie answered.

"she really does!" Beth agreed.

Alessia offered to hold you while your Mama put her Football boots on. Which your Mama agreed to. She thanked Lessi. You opened your eyes slighlty.

"aunt less. Aunt less!" You said half asleep. Cuddling Close to her. Sucking on your pacifier. She gently stroked your back.

"i am here little foot." She told you and you slowly fell back to sleep. Your Mama offered to take you back once you were done but Alessia didn't mind holding you at all and you were so peaceful right now that she didn't want to disturb you.

When your Mama and the Team went outside for practice, Renée the headcoach went to hold you. She was also one of your favorite people. You peacefully slept in her arms and snuggled up to her. Your Mama did some drills with the Team but checked on you every now and then. Making sure everything was okay.

You were having a coughing fit which had your Mama ran over to you.

"hey Angel. It's okay." She gently took you from Renée and pats your back. Handing you your Sippy Cup after you are done with coughing.

"Mama home." You told her. Starting to develop a fever. Which your Mama noticed. She placed a Hand on your forehead and frowned.

"oh yes Baby we are going Home. You are burning up." You hear your Mama say. She apologized to Renée and the team but no one had a Problem with you two leaving early because all they wanted was for you to feel better.

When you were home your mama was running you a bath and then put you into some nice new pjs before she took a quick shower while you were all bundled up in your bed. She then joined you and snuggled you for a while. You had some soup your Mama made later that day and the fever broke which was a relief.

The night was way better then the one before cause you managed to sleep through it. Cuddling your Mama and your Bunny all night.

The next morning was also full of snuggles and love. You joined Training again but this time could stay through it. Watching your Mama and your aunties practice while sitting on the bench. You even kicked the ball around with your auntie Steph towards the end of it.

"glad you feel better, little foot." Steph told you.

"ouch littlwe!" You tried to tell her that it has gotten better as well.

"Happy to hear that!" Steph smiled and you giggled a bit.

You slept quite peacefully that night and woke up with just a small sniffle. Thankfully the cough was gone as well.

[08crll]

🎨💐 246; GYEONG-SEOK HEADCANONS.

sfw & nsfw! <3

desc: 1.9k words. i NEED this man, i wish he was real. an angel loses its wings everytime this man gets written ooc 💔 so hopefully this one is in character.

sfw. gender-neutral!reader.

★ this man LOOOOVES cuddles. look at him. it doesn’t matter if you prefer being the big spoon or the Iittle spoon一he just wants to feel you close to him before he sleeps and when he wakes up.

★ he's probably a little touch starved too. but he would never say it, not because he doesn’t want to appear weak or anything, he just doesn’t want to scare you away.

★ if u were to ask him what his love language was, he’d say it was quality time or acts of service but, really, that’s only what be wants to provide that for his partner. what he really want is physical touchh:( and words of affirmation!!

★ crafty guy. he would make u cards, letters and those paper origami flowers. it doesn't even have to be on special occasions, sometimes you just come home from your work and he surprises you with a new paper craft he discovered. made out of anything he could recycle. be it a receipt, a paper bag, newspaper.

★ very touchy. but not in a bad way. always asking if you're okay with it.

★ this man probably gets all flushed and shy when you call him handsome.

call him your good looking boy and he already has that sweet smile you always loved to see. burying his face on your shoulder as you run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s with all your sweet words?” his voice muffled by your shirt. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“can i not call you handsome?”

“aahh.. quit it,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you down the couch and peppering your face with kisses.

★ loves hugging you from behind, especially when you cook or you’re at the grocery store. you’d be looking at the list of things you needed to restock on while he pushed the cart not too far behind you.

was it powder or liquid detergent? you thought to yourself, pulling out the list from the back pocket of your pants. then, out of nowhere do you feel arms around your waist, warm hands settling on your hips. “where's our cart?” you murmured with a smile. gosh, you were just starting to freeze under the cold air conditioner of this damn store.

“its fine. ‘just right behind us,” gyeong-seok reassures you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. he really couldn’t care less if people stare. he wants them to see how much he loves you. “is this okay..?” he whispered, his breath tickling your jaw.

you just chuckle, not bothering to give him a verbal response. instead, you lean back into his touch. your back pressed against his chest. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, pulling his head up to place a soft kiss on that sensitive spot of your neck.

★ definitely has multiple drawings and doodles of you in his sketchpad. never shows you because he’s afraid you might think he’s being a bit much.

★ musician!reader & him? perfect pair. art recognises art! when he hears you playing your instrument in a different room, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and carefully walks to where you were to watch you do your stuff. if na-yeon is home, he’d definitely bring her with him.

★ always has his eyes on you even during times when he probably shouldn’t, like when the two of you are having a conversation with na-yeon’s teacher about how well she’s been doing in her classes. or when you were having dinner with your parents. you were explaining how you met him and he just admires you like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

★ adding onto the previous one, because of how often he just stares at you; you often mistook this as him spacing out and not listening but he actually was listening to every single word you said. your voice sounded like heaven to him, how could he not? when you ask him to recite what you just said, you were surprised to see how he got it right, word for word.

★ definitely the type to go out of his way to do something because he thinks you’d like it. during one of your library dates, he catches you picking up a book about poetry, complimenting the work inside and how beautiful people write when they’re in love. after that day, he definitely went home and wrote multiple poem drafts about you.

★ speaking of dates!! this man would be the type to apologise to you because he can’t take you to those fancy restaurants. you had to remind him multiple times that eating at fine dinings wasn’t really your thing anyway, that it made you self-conscious to be around such fancy people. he frowned, thinking you were just saying that so he’d stop apologising and you knew just how to cure that.

“you know.. i always did have a soft spot for library dates.”

his face lit up and ever since then, he never forgets to take you on your weekly library dates. it was a good place to unwind as well. killing one bird with two stones; spending quality time with you knowing that you actually enjoy being here, and being able to have some peace and quiet.

★ the protective and worried type!! always texting “are you home?” you after dropping you off at your place. “are you tired? do you want to sleep?” as much as he’d love to text you up until the early morning even if it meant he had no sleep when he got to work tomorrow, he doesn’t want you to be sleep deprived.

★ i’ve seen other ppl say this and i just can’t get it out of my head; he’s probably insecure about himself whenever you introduce him to your friends and your family :(

when you invite him to attend a dinner party, telling him it was just a get together with some old friends from your hometown, he misheard you.

“you should definitely go! i know how much you miss your friends,” he beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

you furrowed your brows. “honey.. wait, no, i want you to come with me, yeah?”

he looks at you confused. you want to bring him with you? for what? he was never the type to be jealous of you attending events by yourself. maybe it was because he trusted you or maybe because he didn’t want to hold you back. he knew you to be too good for him. a single father, struggling to make ends meet and provide for his sickly daughter—it wouldn’t be much of a shock to him if you ghosted him out of nowhere or if you leave him for another person. please give this man some reassurance!!! :(

★ always wakes up before you in the morning. his fingers trailing across your face while he admires the way the sun shines behind you making it look like you were glowing. he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but my god, did he consider himself the luckiest man alive for that reason.

★ loves it when you cup his face with both your hands. he’ll have the biggest and silliest smile on his face when you do so.

nsfw! gender-neutral & fem!reader.

★ a soft dom, but would gladly be submissive if you asked.

★ as we already know, he’s a very good listener, even in bed. he’s always listening to the way you moan, the sound of your whine, the pitch. does flicking his tongue feel good? he’d ask but he had a feeling that the sound of you already gave him the answer.

★ probably would prefer to be intimate in comfortable spaces. although he would never object if you offered to give him a quickie, each time he’d remind you of how you never needed to do this. that he’d take care of it himself.

“you don’t have to. it’ll go away. i can—”

“i want to. please?”

how could he say no to those eyes?

★ prioritizes your comfort above anything else, above his own. if you were in an awkward place, but you really needed to get off—needed him—he would hold your hand firmly. “i’ll take you home, come on,” he’d say as he pulls you next to him.

★ loooves having you ride him, but he worries that it’ll tire you out too much

★ when your face gets sweaty, hair clinging to your forehead with your mouth open, he makes sure to brush your hair back with his fingers. he wants to see your flushed and fucked out face clearly, wants to see if he’s doing good

★ always preps you beforehand. he can’t stand the thought of hurting you, even IF you’ve done it countless times before.

reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he gently swats your hand away. “i need to prep you first, honey..” he cooed, pulling your pants down. he knows how eager you are, but he needs to take care of you first.

★ the only times he wouldn’t prep you would probably be when he’d be the sub. you ordering him around, telling him what to do and what not to do

★ subtle touches doesn’t get him turned on right away (he’s more mature than that. he’s not a pervert) this probably also means that he’s a little oblivious to your advances, you’d have to tell him directly what you needed or wanted of him and watch as his eyes widen, looking around to see if na-yeon heard the two of you. “honey.. are you sure?”

★ there would be times when you’d show off your skin and instead of him getting aroused, he’d just be in awe of your beauty. i mean, he probably IS aroused but he just doesn’t go insane over it.

★ breeding kink, FOR SURE, but he always asks first.

“can i come in you, baby? please?”

“i’m so close.. ‘so close..”

“pleaseee...” paired by him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

★ doesn’t like BDSM. i mean, he’s a father now. also hates the thought of hurting you purposefully. he’d also probably never say it, but he doesn’t like getting degraded as well :( just give this man some praises, he’s already sad enough as is!

★ saw ppl saying he has a daddy kink and im just like nooooo 💔💔 he has a daughter that literally calls him daddy, why would he ever want you to call him that in the bedroom?

★ his rhythm would be slow and gentle, wanting to feel all of you and be with you in the moment. you would have to beg this man to go faster

★ the type to hold your hair back during blowjobs. he’d probably accidentally pull on it when you flick your tongue over his tip, but apologies would quickly come spilling out of his lips.

“‘m sorry.. sorry, honey.. i didn’t mean to.. fuck, that felt good..”

★ always reminding you of how beautiful you are while his cock is buried deep inside you.

“you’re so beautiful like this.. taking me in so well..”

“yes, that’s it.. c’mon.. you’re so pretty..”

★ he makes sure you come before he does, and when he does come (whether it’s in you or on you) he takes a minute afterwards to take a breath while you feel his cock still half-hard inside you.

“i love you so much.”

“you did so good f’me..”

★ aftercare king 🫡🫡

a/n: there are literally no fics of him (x reader) on ao3 so i have turned to tumblr bc tumblr RARELY disappoints when it comes to content for side characters 🙏

[cece693]

could I maybe request something for a male reader and hannigram? something where the reader is always really quiet and generally avoids people so everyone thinks he’s shy, but one conversation with him shows that he is NOT shy—he’s just on the verge of murdering someone constantly. ‘Never plan a murder out loud’ type shit

so idk like quiet, anger issues-y type of reader? anyways thanks :3

On the Tip of Your Tongue

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader isn't who he seems, hannigram is supportive, no murder today, short but sweet, kinda au

You’ve always been the quiet type—or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. You’re the coworker who slips in and out of the office with barely a nod in passing. The neighbor who’s so hard to catch in conversation that people decide you must be shy or painfully introverted. After all, you rarely speak unless spoken to, and even then, it’s usually just a few carefully chosen words.

But Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham know better.

They see the way your eyes linger a second too long on potential threats. They hear the deliberate pace of your breathing when you’d rather lash out than listen to unwelcome commentary. They’ve witnessed how your fists tighten and then relax at your sides, an exercise in self-control so you don’t do something you’d regret—or maybe something you’ve been itching to do all day.

No one suspects that you’re coiled tight like a predator, mentally skirting the edge of violence at every sharp word or rude glance. Well, no one besides your boyfriends.

You live with Will and Hannibal in a large, old house on the outskirts of Baltimore. It’s tastefully furnished—Hannibal’s touch, of course—with warm wooden floors and richly colored walls. Tucked into a corner near the fireplace is a battered armchair that’s Will’s favorite spot. When you get home from work tonight, you find Will curled up there, jacket tossed over the chair’s arm, while Hannibal stands by the mantle, hands clasped behind his back.

“There you are,” Will says, sounding relieved. “Busy day?”

You loosen your tie with a quick tug and hang it over the coat rack. “Something like that.”

“‘Something like that’?” Hannibal repeats with a faint tilt of his head. He steps forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “It’s rare you come home so tense.”

You offer him a crooked half-smile. “I had a run-in at work.”

Will sits up straighter, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say, your voice low. You’re aware, in that moment, that anyone else would have shrugged it off with a polite, noncommittal phrase. But you don’t bother hiding the edge in your tone. Not in front of these two men. “Let’s just say I gave someone a wake-up call.”

It’s Will’s turn to smile, the corner of his mouth quirking with interest. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story than that.”

You shrug. “Maybe a bit.”

Earlier That Day

You work at a forensic consulting office attached to the FBI. You’re not a profiler—Will’s got that covered, and so does Hannibal, in his own capacity—but your role is instrumental. You file case reports, cross-reference data, catalog evidence, and do some background research that often proves vital. It’s not glamorous, but you do it well. Quiet competence, that’s your calling card. Nobody expects the seemingly shy, unassuming coworker to have sharp claws.

Apparently, Joseph Sykes in the archives department was in the mood to push buttons today. He’d made an offhand remark about your “lack of communication skills,” implying you were borderline useless in a high-stakes environment. Maybe if you were more gregarious, you’d climb the ladder faster.

You could practically feel your temper thrumming. There’s a little tingle in your fingertips, that familiar rush of heat across your temples. The darkness that’s always lurking on the edges of your mind wanted to creep in, to let you imagine just how easy it might be to…

No. Not here. You repeated the same mantra you always do. Never plan a murder out loud, and never lose your cool so publicly.

Instead, you turned to face him slowly. You allowed the silence to stretch until Joseph got a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet enough that only he could hear, but laced with a menace that forced him to pay attention.

“Joseph,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I don’t need to be loud to get results. If you want to see me really speak up, keep trying to push me.”

His expression froze as he realized that, beneath the polite exterior, something lethal flickered behind your eyes. You gave him a small, dangerous smile, then calmly walked away. He was left standing there, mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say.

Back Home

Will’s eyebrows lift as you finish recounting the incident. “You put him in his place without even raising your voice?”

“Didn’t have to.” You shrug, crossing the room to where Hannibal stands. He places a hand lightly on your shoulder, warmth radiating through his long fingers.

“We all have our own ways of asserting dominance,” Hannibal murmurs, a private amusement in his tone. “I’m glad you didn’t escalate things. Though, one day, perhaps you’ll indulge me and share how you control that hunger.” His eyes flick over yours, curious and admiring.

“I don’t know if you’re the last person who should be encouraging that or the best person,” you tease. “But it’s not about control so much as picking the right moment. I’m not going to waste my time or energy on something that small.”

Will stands, padding softly over to the two of you. “That’s what I love about you,” he says. “Everyone thinks you’re just quiet and shy, but the reality is far more interesting. You’ve got more bite in you than half the people at the Bureau combined.”

You offer a wry smile, stepping closer so that Will can take your hand, and Hannibal, your other. “There’s a lot they don’t know, that’s for sure.”

A small silence settles over the three of you—comfortable, warm. Even with your smoldering anger from earlier, you can’t help but feel at peace here. In their presence, your edges don’t feel quite so sharp. There’s an understanding that hums beneath the surface; you don’t need to watch your every word or apologize for the way your thoughts naturally veer. Will and Hannibal know who you are in your quiet moments and in the moments where the darkness tries to seep out from behind your eyes.

And they accept you, entirely.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen with Hannibal. He’s slicing vegetables for a late dinner, and the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board is almost hypnotic. You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a lazy sort of fascination.

Without looking away from his task, Hannibal speaks up. “There’s a question on your mind.”

You exhale slowly, pushing off the counter to stand at his side. “I’m not sure it’s a question so much as an observation. Everyone at work still thinks I’m meek. Even after all this time. When someone like Sykes decides to test me…some part of me wants to prove them wrong in a very, very final way.”

Hannibal’s lips curl into that refined, knowing smile. “The instincts we share can be…difficult to restrain. But you have an advantage: clarity. You know when to yield, and you know when to stand your ground. That’s more power than you realize.”

He sets the knife down and meets your gaze, eyes dark with a fond, predatory glint. “And perhaps you enjoy having them underestimate you.”

Will appears in the doorway then, shoulders relaxed. “Dinner almost ready?” he asks lightly, though he picks up on the electricity in the air. His gaze dances between you and Hannibal, reflecting his quiet understanding of the unspoken tension you both carry.

“Almost,” Hannibal replies, returning to his slicing.

Will moves close enough to rest a hand on your lower back. “And you? You alright now?” His tone is gentle.

You let out a tight breath and allow yourself to lean into his touch, if only a little. “I’m fine.” Your voice drops, turning wry. “Calmer than I was earlier, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will says. He presses a light kiss just behind your ear. It’s casual affection, but it’s enough to smooth out the last of your lingering frustration.

You smile, truly smile, for the first time that evening. Because this moment—this comfortable, domestic moment with Hannibal and Will—is what keeps you anchored. You can keep your secrets and your darkness close, but never alone. You can unleash your quieter, deadlier side at will, knowing they won’t turn away from you. If anything, it only draws you closer.

[buckybuckyboo]

Bucky comes home

Word count - 1,459

Warnings: Smut, P in V, unprotected sex.

Summary: Bucky surprises you by coming home in the middle of the night.

_______________________________________________________

Bucky got home from his mission with Steve very very late. He could have stayed at the tower and surprised you in the morning but he couldn't wait. He missed you so much. He quietly made his way into your shared apartment, dropped his bag at the door. He slowly opens the bedroom door letting the hall light creep int the bedroom. He can't help but smile seeing you asleep in bed, covers thrown back. Wearing nothing but panties and one of his Hanley's. Bucky walks in taking his clothes off and climbing onto the bed, leaning over you and kissing your neck. It wakes you slightly making you stretch your neck more giving him more access. "I'm home baby girl, I missed you" He whispers between neck kisses.

"Bucky?" You whisper in your sleepy voice. "Yeah it's me baby. I just got home" Turning yourself around to face him but you didn't feel him slipping your panties off while doing it. He slips himself between your legs, leaning on his elbow as he pushes your hair away from your face. "Are you okay Bucky?" He smiles down at you. "Yeah I'm good baby. Much better now I'm with you" "I missed you so much baby". Bucky leans down kissing you passionately, he pulls away looking into your eyes with help from the dim light from the hall. "Tell me again how much you missed me doll" Smiling up at him, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I missed you so so- OH!". Bucky had pushed himself inside your pussy, he grunts softly feeling your walls hug him tight. Your body jerking as you feel him stretch you out.

"You were saying sweetheart?" He smirks. "I- I missed you" Slowly he drags his cock back and pushes back in slowly. Filling you up again. Your walls clenching around him, pulling him back in. "Please don't stop" He smiles down at you , placing one hand on the back of your head and his metal hand on your hip. He leans in kissing you along your neck and chest. His pace staying slow, he doesn't want to rush this. He wants to remember every feeling of you as he drags moan after moan out of you. Kissing you passionately, swallowing every moan that leaves your mouth. "Fuck Bucky just like that" "I know baby I know. I've got you" He pushes your (his) shirt up taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking, making your back arch off the bed.

He kisses back up to the crook of your neck, his hand on your hip getting a tighter hold. Your hand combs through his hair grabbing a fist full, You feel him bite into your neck, your orgasm coming closer and closer. His movements becoming slopy. He captures your lips with his as his seed spills inside you, feeling his cock twitch inside you. Bucky leans his forehead against yours while panting. You smile and run your fingers through his hair. After a little while of just holding each other, sharing sweet kisses and giggles together. He slips your shirt off and pulls you close to his chest resting his chin on your head. You wrap your arm around him and lazily run your fingers up and down his back. "Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow Buck?" "I have no plans but I think Steve is gonna call over in the morning"

"I've got you all to myself?" "Yep! I'm all yours baby girl" You were so happy to have him home. Weeks of long missions behind him for a while now cause he's back home with you. You never really slept peacefully while he is away. From worrying and from not having his arms around you all night long. But he's home, you are almost afraid to go back to sleep in case he disappears again. Laying back on your pillow and looking into his big blue eyes. Tracing his face with your fingers and running your thumb over his bottom lip then leaning in and kissing him. Feeling his arms wrap around you and pulls you closer the warmth and safety you feel makes you smile. He was home and you wern't letting him go anytime soon. "Go back to sleep doll. I'll be right here" "What if I wake up and you're gone again?" He chuckles softly "I'm not going anywhere, I can promise you that"

Both of you had fallen asleep at some point but early in the morning Bucky heard Steve come into the apartment. He had a spare key and he could come and go as he pleases. He made his way to your bedroom door and knocked gently, "Buck? Are you coming for a run?" At first he hears nothing but then Bucky answers him making Steve open the door a little peeking in. "Are you coming? He whispers. "Uh, I think I'll meet you in the gym later" He whispers back. Steve smiles and leaves for his run. Bucky leans down kissing your neck and then whispering in your ear "So are you gonna do something with it or just hold it?" he smirks.

You had woken slightly hearing the boys whispering. With not much energy in your sleepy state you told bucky to stay by grabbing his cock. Leaning up and capturing his lips with yours pushing him onto his back as you climb on top of him. "You told me, you were all mine" he chuckles softly. "I am sweetheart, I'm right here aren't I?" he gives you that sweet grin that makes you melt. Leaning over and kissing him passionately, moving to his neck and chest. Your hand moving down his body and wrapping his hard leaking cock. Giving it a few strokes before lining it up at your entrance and sinking slowly down on him. His breath hitching in his throat, his eyes falling closed as the pleasure over comes him. Placing his hands on you hips, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin.

Bucky plants his feet into the mattress and slowly starts to push his hips up pushing his cock deeper inside you. His mouth opens slightly as he feels your pussy clench around his cock. His hands move up your body, gently massaging your breasts. He sits up taking your nipple into his mouth. You gently comb your fingers through his long hair. Moving your hips back and forth on his cock feeling it hit that spot deep inside. He looks up aat you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. "So fucking tight and wet baby girl. I missed you so fucking much" he moans into the crook of your neck. "Please Bucky" "What is it baby? What do you need?" "I ne- need you to fuck me hard. Please? I've missed you so much I need to feel you" He places his arm around your lower back and turns you around laying back on the bed.

He wraps your leg around his hip, starting at a slow pace that get's faster and harder. Snapping his hips forward. With each snap of his hips your body bounces up on the bed. He takes his right hand and brings it down your body and uses his thumb to rub on your sensitive nub. He repositions your leg bringing it up over his shoulder and kissing along your leg. "That's it baby girl make a mess all over my cock for me like I know you can" Moving your hips in rhythm with him. "Yes! Harder please!" He places both hands on your hips holding you in place and fucks you hard making you moan uncontrollably. He leans down kissing along your chest and up along your neck. "Make a mess on my cock baby girl. I feel you squeezing me" he whispers in your ear.

It makes you smile and whisper back "Cum with me baby" "Gonna cum so fucking hard baby. You ready?" All you can do is nod. A few more pumps of his hips and you cum all over his cock. He buries his head in the crook of your neck while moaning. His hips still moving but slowly. Both of you riding out your highs. He leans his fore head against yours and smiles. "Have I told you how much I've missed you?" "Hmm I'm not sure" making you both giggle. Bucky wraps his arms around you while laying back on the bed pulling you onto his chest. His hands lazily run up and down your back. "Do you have to meet Steve in the gym?" you ask in a sleepy voice. Bucky chuckles and kisses the top of your head. "I don't have to be anywhere but here baby girl"

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean has a conflicting dream about you, his best friend, that has him questioning feelings he'd never allowed to see the light of day before. However, he might not be the only one…

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, feelings, some spicy times, nothing too heavy...

AN: Happy Release day!!🎉 Honestly, i can’t thank you all enough for the excitement around this series since announcing it! I've fell in love writing this story 🥹 and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it ❤️

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Dean smiled lazily as he felt a warm palm slide up his chest, the body behind him pressing closer. Soft lips trailed kisses along his neck and shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine. He hummed in contentment and shifted onto his back, his tired eyes opening to the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

Her eyes sparkled with warmth and mischief, her lips curving into a playful smirk before she leaned down, peppering gentle kisses along his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut again as she sucked lightly at his pulse point, his breath coming quicker. A low groan rumbled from his throat as he gripped her waist, pulling her up into a heated kiss.

Her tongue caressed his, her touch sending fire through his veins. Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingertips grazing lower and lower beneath the sheets, his pulse pounding—

"WAKE UP, LOSER!"

Dean's eyes shot open, his body jolting as the blaring shriek of an airhorn filled his room. He yanked the covers tighter around himself, his heart racing from both the rude awakening and the remnants of his dream.

"What the hell, Y/N?" he growled, glaring at the culprit as he covered his ears. You grinned triumphantly and finally put the airhorn to rest.

Dean huffed, flopping back down on the bed and throwing an arm over his face, trying to will away the heat rising to his cheeks.

What the fuck? Was all he could think, his sleep-addled brain scrambling to make sense of why he’d just had a sex dream about you.

You, meanwhile, were way too chipper for his liking. 

"C’mon, Dean-o, up and at ’em." You patted his leg, and he flinched like you’d just burned him. You shot him an odd look, but he ignored it, shifting slightly to make sure the blanket hid the… Predicament he was currently dealing with.

"What’s with the drill sergeant wake-up? Can a guy not sleep in on a Saturday?" He grumbled, voice still rough from sleep, and other things.

You pouted. Actually pouted. And Dean had to force himself to look away from your lips—lips that had just been doing unspeakable things to him in his dream.

"You promised you'd go Christmas shopping with me.” You reminded him, completely unfazed by his mood.

Dean frowned. "That doesn’t sound like something I’d promise."

You hit him with your classic 'don’t bullshit me' look. And, yeah, okay, he remembered now. He'd offered last week, wanting to help you survive the chaos of last-minute shoppers—and use the trip to grab gifts for his own family.

"Fine, yeah. Just give me ten minutes to wake up, alright?" He relented, desperate for you to leave so he could deal with his little… Issue.

“Thanks, Buddy." Your voice was smug, like you knew he’d never actually say no to you. Because, let’s be honest, he never did.

Dean sighed as you closed the door behind you. He let his head fall back against the pillow, running a hand down his face.

What the hell?

Why was he dreaming about you like that? You were his best friend. You’d been inseparable since fourth grade. Sure, you were beautiful, but that had never been an issue before.

…Had it?

Dean groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Nope. Too early for a deep dive into that mess. He rationalised it away—one, you were attractive. Two, you were close. And, statistically speaking, didn’t most guy-girl friendships eventually veer into weird territory at some point?

Yeah. Totally normal. No big deal.

Except… Two hours later, standing in the middle of a lingerie store, Dean realised he was totally screwed.

Before that, he’d spent the last two hours hauling around a bunch of your shopping bags like a damn pack mule. Only one of them happened to be his, with his completed gift purchases for everyone he needed to buy for. Though to be fair to you, your arms were just as full. He was bewildered at your ability to buy so much for so little.

Your immediate family only consisted of three people—Bobby, Ellen, and Jo—but you had argued that you had your friends, his family, and him to buy for. The latter of which, he’d told you not to do.

However, it fell on deaf ears as always. Every Christmas and birthday, it was the same. But Dean couldn’t fault you for it—you always got people gifts that were meaningful to them, and you got so much joy from giving that he could never say anything other than thank you.

What he wasn’t thankful for was your complete inability to stay focused. Every shop you entered, you’d get distracted by little knickknacks, convincing yourself someone needed them, rather than the original item you came for. It made the day so much longer, but despite the fatigue in his arms and the chaos of holiday shoppers, he was enjoying himself.

Though, that was a given with you.

You were naturally a people pleaser, but knowing how much Dean hated shopping, you’d made it your mission to keep him entertained. You’d made him laugh—laugh to the point his belly ached and tears were shed. The day had surprisingly become enjoyable. But then you'd dragged him into this store, and his brain short-circuited.

The window displays alone had him spiralling, lace and silk-covered mannequins taunting him with thoughts he really didn’t need to have. About you. And then you, completely oblivious, pulled a matching red lace bra and thong off a rack, holding them up for inspection.

Dean swallowed hard.

He’d done your laundry before. You two split chores in the apartment, and he’d handled your underwear plenty of times; never thinking twice about it. So why the hell was he suddenly imagining you in them now?

Was this really because of the dream? It had to be.

And then, like you hadn’t already sent him into cardiac arrest, you giggled, holding up another pair. "Hey, check this out—crotchless panties."

Dean barely choked back a groan as you stuck your fingers through the open section like it was the funniest thing in the world. His brain, on the other hand, provided a detailed mental slideshow of all the things he could do to you in them.

Jesus Christ.

He needed air.

"I—uh—I gotta step outside. Promised Sammy I’d call about a gift for Mom," he lied, voice tight.

You barely glanced up. "Okay."

Dean bolted like his life depended on it, shoving through the doors and inhaling the crisp winter air. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" He muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

A passing woman gave him a scandalised look as she walked by with her kid. He shot her an apologetic smile before leaning back against the brick wall, blowing out a heavy breath.

He tried to clear his mind, but every time he pushed the R-rated thoughts away, softer images replaced them. The way you smiled. The way you laughed, head thrown back, eyes crinkling. That stupid fluttery feeling hit his stomach again.

Dean frowned.

Was he sick? Hallucinating?

The worst part? You were always the person he talked to when he was confused about something.

But now you were the one person he couldn’t talk to about this.

Another half hour crawled by before you finally emerged from the store, a small bag swinging from your wrist. Dean’s eyes locked onto it like it held the answers to the universe, his mind immediately spiralling.

What the hell did you buy?

He told himself he didn’t care. He really didn’t. But his brain clearly had other plans because now he was picturing you in every single thing you could’ve possibly picked out.

Lingerie? Pyjama's? Something sheer, lace- nope!

He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on literally anything else, but it was a lost cause. By the time you both made it back to the apartment, he felt like his brain had been put through a damn blender.

You, however, were completely unbothered, tossing your bags onto the floor with a content sigh before flopping onto the couch. "Pizza should be here soon. You wanna pick the movie?"

Dean blinked, barely processing the words. Right. Normal best friend things. Hanging out. Eating pizza. Watching a movie. That’s what you two did. That’s what you’d always done.

Maybe that’s all today was—a momentary lapse. A weird, fleeting thing brought on by lack of sleep, the stress of shopping, and, most probably, the objectifying dream he’d had of you. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

Yeah. He could shake this off. No big deal.

Letting out a slow breath, he dropped onto the couch beside you, snagging the remote. "Fine. But if I pick, you’re not allowed to bitch about it."

You hummed, already scrolling through your phone. "I make no promises."

A small smirk tugged at Dean’s lips. This was normal. Easy. Just like always.

And for the first time since this morning, he let himself believe it.

The following Friday, Dean found himself at the Roadhouse with Benny, Cas, and Gabe. It was the kind of place that felt like a second home.

The Roadhouse wasn’t fancy—hell, half the decor was older than they were—but it had its own charm. The regulars, the outdated rodeo-style décor, the worn wooden bar top that had seen more spilled whiskey and thrown punches than anyone cared to count.

The walls were lined with old beer signs, neon lights buzzing softly under the hum of conversation. The jukebox in the corner cycled through rock classics, always a little too loud, but that was part of the place’s charm.

Dean and the guys had been coming here for years—long before they were even old enough to drink. You had, too. Being Ellen’s stepdaughter meant you practically grew up in this place, and while Ellen had a strict no-bullshit policy, she wasn’t blind to the fact that teenagers would be teenagers.

As long as you and the guys stayed under her watchful eye, she let you each have a beer or two when you were younger, making damn sure no one got carried away. And if anyone so much as thought about sneaking more? Well, Ellen had a way of shutting that down real quick. She was tough, sharp as a whip, and had a stare that could make a grown man fold—but she cared, more than she’d ever admit.

Jo helped out too, working the bar some nights in between her law enforcement studies. She’d been slinging beers and rolling her eyes at the group’s antics since she was old enough to work behind the counter, always quick with a sarcastic remark when any of them got out of line. 

You and Dean had spent countless nights here, watching as the Roadhouse shaped who you all became.

Benny leaned against the pool table, lining up his shot with an easy, practiced confidence. Dean had seen him do it a hundred times—his friend had a natural ease about him, a steadiness that made him damn good at their job. 

They spent most of their days working maintenance for RHP Properties, fixing busted pipes and dealing with tenants who thought every flickering light meant the world was ending. Benny made the long hours bearable.

Cas sat nearby, nursing a whiskey, his sharp blue eyes scanning the table like he was analysing some historical battle strategy. He always had that serious, thoughtful air about him. It made sense—he was a history teacher, working his way toward becoming a professor. His brain just worked differently.

And then there was Gabriel, though he liked to go by Gabe, Cas’ cousin. Though you’d never guess it just by looking at them. 

Where Cas was serious, methodical, and downright broody at times, Gabe was his exact opposite—carefree, unpredictable, and always ready with a joke. The contrast between them was almost comical, like night and day, order and chaos.

Currently half-draped over the bar like he owned the place, Gabe was laughing at something Rachel, the new bartender, had said. She was easy on the eyes—exactly the kind of woman Gabe set his sights on. And judging by the way she giggled and blushed under his usual blend of wit and charm, he’d hit his mark.

Gabe had always been that guy—the one who could talk his way into or out of anything, a natural-born trickster with a grin that could disarm just about anyone. No one was entirely sure what he did for a living, some mix of marketing gigs and side hustles that somehow kept him afloat. According to him, it was all about “the art of persuasion.”

Dean just called it bullshit.

The night had settled into an easy rhythm—drinks flowing, pool games stretching long enough to become more about talking shit than actual competition. Gabe, as always, had the floor, spinning some ridiculous story about a one-night stand gone wrong.

“I’m telling you; she had three snakes. Just slithering around the damn apartment like it was normal,” Gabe insisted, gesturing wildly with his beer. “One of ‘em was watching me, man. I swear it knew.”

Benny chuckled, lining up his next shot. “I think the real question is, why the hell did you stay?”

Gabe shrugged. “What can I say? I have a hard time walking away from an adventure.”

Cas, who had been nursing his whiskey with a bemused expression, finally spoke up. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been killed yet.”

“Give it time,” Benny muttered, sinking his shot.

The conversation shifted, everyone throwing in their own weird hookup stories—bad timing, embarrassing moments, things they wished they could forget. Dean had been mostly listening, chuckling at their dumb-assery, when the thought that had been nagging him for days finally slipped out.

“Is it, uh… normal to have a sex dream about a friend?”

Benny didn’t react at first, too focused on sinking his shot, but Gabe, ever the opportunist, caught onto it immediately. “If it’s about Y/N? Yeah, totally.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “What? No—it’s not—”

Gabe grinned, tilting his head like he was enjoying watching Dean squirm. “Not what? Not about her? Or not just a dream?”

Dean scowled, scrambling to recover. “Jesus, Gabe, I didn’t say it was about her. It was hypothetical.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe leaned against the pool table, twirling the chalk in his fingers. “Sure, man. Hypothetical.”

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the weird, twisting feeling in his gut. “Just saying, dreams don’t mean anything, right? Just… brain static.”

Benny chuckled, finally looking up from the table. “Depends on the dream, brother.”

Dean glanced between them, suddenly feeling like he was the only one missing something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabe smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It means you’ve been making googly eyes at her since we were, what—fifteen?”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “The hell I have.”

Gabe ignored him, tapping his chin. “Honestly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.”

Benny sighed, shaking his head as he sank another shot. “Sorry, brother. Gotta agree with the gremlin on this one.”

Cas, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm and matter of fact. “It’s always been very obvious.”

Dean stared at them, mouth opening and closing. “You guys are insane.”

Gabe shrugged, completely unfazed. “Denial’s a hell of a drug. You’ll catch up eventually.”

Dean gripped his pool cue a little tighter, his next shot suddenly feeling a lot more difficult than it should have.

Benny, ever the voice of reason, leaned on his cue. “Ain’t anything bad, Dean. You two have known each other since you were what? Nine. Been joint at the hip since. You know all her family, she knows yours. Hell, she’s practically—”

“If that were true, something would’ve happened by now,” Dean cut in, shaking his head.

Gabe snorted, swiping Dean’s beer before he could stop him. “Not if you’re in denial, my friend.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, frustration curling in his chest. Their words were ringing too damn true, and it was freaking him out. “You’re all outta your damn minds.”

Gabe just smirked. “Keep telling yourself that, Winchester.”

The conversation haunted him. All the way back to the apartment.

He’d walked the couple of blocks from the bar to your shared place, his friends’ words swirling around his mind, needling into places he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Dean knew he cared about you—he always had. But wasn’t that normal after knowing someone for so long? You were practically family.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he met you. Fourth grade. The old, rusted swing set at the park near his house.

He’d been shoving loose gravel around with the toe of his sneaker when he heard a loud laugh—sharp and unbothered. Looking up, he saw a girl launch herself off the swing at its peak, landing in a heap on the ground with a thud.

He winced. That had to hurt.

But instead of crying, you rolled onto your back, a grin splitting your dirt-smudged face as you stared up at the sky. "Holy crap, that was awesome."

Dean frowned, more confused than anything. "You just busted your knee."

You sat up, inspecting the scrape with a shrug. "Eh, I’ve had worse."

Then you looked at him—really looked at him—and grinned. "Think you can jump higher?"

Dean, never one to back down from a challenge, snorted. "Duh."

And that was that. A competition was born.

For the next hour, you and Dean had taken turns swinging as high as possible before flinging yourselves off, measuring who could get the most distance. By the time the sun dipped low, both of you were covered in dirt and scrapes, laughing like idiots.

When his mom finally called him home for dinner, he’d hesitated before brushing off his hands and looking at you. "Same time tomorrow?"

You grinned, teeth flashing. "You’re on, Winchester."

And just like that, Dean had found his best friend.

Now, years later, that same friend was tangled up in his head in a way he couldn’t ignore.

And it scared the hell out of him.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean called out as soon as he stepped into the apartment. The words left him out of habit, that same old teasing lilt in his voice. It was an inside joke that had stuck over time—born the day you’d both moved in together after college, a decision fuelled by practicality more than anything else. 

Splitting rent was cheaper, and as best friends, it had made perfect sense. Somehow, though, the whole thing had felt oddly domestic from the start, and Dean had cracked the joke that first night—throwing open the door with a smirk, announcing himself like some sitcom husband. You’d groaned, thrown a pillow at him, and it had just stuck. Something easy, something comfortable.

From somewhere deeper in the apartment, your voice called back, warm and casual. “Hey!” You greeted him as he shrugged off his worn leather jacket and toed off his boots with a sigh, rolling his neck to ease the tension there. 

“How were the guys?” You called out again.

"Yeah, they're all good," he answered absentmindedly, trying not to think about that last conversation he’d had with them as he headed straight for the fridge, already contemplating his options.

His hand gripped the cool metal of the handle as he swung it open, his face falling at the sad excuse for groceries staring back at him—half a six-pack, expired milk, some takeout containers he didn’t even remember ordering.

Right. Grocery shopping. Definitely overdue.

"Hey, you feel like ordering in tonight?" He called out over his shoulder. "Pizza? Chinese? Maybe both, live a little?"

But before he could get an answer, movement in the corner of his eye pulled his focus, and his breath caught in his throat.

You stepped out of your room, and just like that, Dean forgot how to breathe.

His hand slipped from the fridge handle as his entire focus tunnelled in on you. You weren’t just dressed up—you were knockout gorgeous. 

A sleek, black dress hugged your figure in a way that should’ve been illegal, the fabric clinging in all the right places before tapering off mid-thigh. Your legs—long, smooth, and so much more on display than he was prepared for—were accentuated by the sharp cut of your stilettos, heels so high they had no damn business being on your feet, yet somehow, you walked like you owned the world in them.

Dean swallowed hard.

His gaze flickered to the subtle details—the delicate chain resting just below the hollow of your throat, the way the dim lighting in the apartment caught the shimmer of your earrings, how your makeup was just enough to highlight what was already perfect. 

You smelled different too—a new perfume perhaps? Something subtle but undeniably you.

The air in the apartment felt thick, like it was pushing down on his chest.

You didn’t even notice his staring. Instead, you were focused on the couch, leaning over slightly as you grabbed your purse, your fingers quickly checking through its contents. "I can't," you said lightly, barely looking up. "Got a hot date, remember?"

Dean blinked, your words cutting through his haze like a blade.

“Date?"

His stomach twisted.

You straightened up, finally glancing at him with a smirk. "Yeah, with Gary from marketing?" You prompted, slinging your purse over your shoulder. "He asked me out last week—I told you about it?”

Gary from marketing.

Dean’s brows furrowed as the memory came rushing back—how you’d offhandedly mentioned it while he was distracted with something else, how he’d muttered some half-assed response at the time, maybe even made a joke—

"The guy with the tragic haircut?" he muttered, the words coming out before he could stop them.

You laughed. "That’s the one."

And just like that, it hit him.

He’d been so caught up in his own damn thoughts about you lately—trying to reason with himself, trying to make sense of the way things had shifted between you lately—that he hadn’t even thought the world would still be turning for you.

He’d been sitting in the passenger seat, clueless, while you’d been steering your own damn life without him.

And now?

Now, you were standing there, looking like that, all dressed up for some other guy—some idiot named Gary, who got to pick you up and take you out, who got to be the reason you put on that dress, who got to see that smile meant for him tonight.

Dean’s chest felt tight, a slow, bitter realisation creeping in.

This wasn’t like all the other times.

You’d gone on dates before. He knew that. He’d teased you about them, had even tossed out protective big-brother-ish warnings to guys who had no clue the words felt foreign in his mouth. But he’d never felt anything about it before.

Not like this.

Not like his chest was caving in.

Not like a bitter, ugly heat was curling around his ribs, settling deep into his bones.

Not like he wanted to throw his jacket back on and hunt down ‘Gary from marketing’ and make damn sure he knew he wasn’t good enough for you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Right." His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, rough around the edges as he forced the word past the lump in his throat.

He watched as you did one last check in the mirror by the door, smoothing your hands down your dress, adjusting your lipstick in a way that made his stomach tighten even more. You looked excited.

Dean clenched his jaw.

And just like that, the jealousy settled deep in his bones, hot and unyielding.

He didn’t want to picture it—you laughing at some stupid joke Gary made over dinner, Gary sliding his hand over yours, maybe leaning in close at the end of the night, lips hovering over yours.

But the thoughts came anyway.

And it wrecked him.

You shot him one last glance, oblivious to the storm raging inside of him. "Don’t wait up, Winchester."

And with that, you were gone.

Dean stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

His chest felt tight. And then the bitter realisation hit him. 

His friends had been right.

Dean couldn’t sleep.

For the past two hours, he had been tossing and turning, alternating between staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut, willing sleep to come. It never did.

How the hell could he sleep when his mind was torturing him with images of you—with Gary?

His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of it, bile rising in his throat. His mind painted vivid, unwanted pictures: Gary’s hands on you, his lips on your skin, your soft laughter, the way you might be looking at him right now—the way you should be looking at Dean.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if it would shake the thoughts loose. It didn’t.

With a frustrated exhale, Dean sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. This was pointless.

There was no way in hell he was going to get any rest like this, not with his heart pounding and his mind running laps. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his sore muscles before making his way into the living room.

His feet carried him straight to the kitchen, to the cabinet under the sink where he kept a bottle of whiskey for special occasions.

This qualified.

He poured himself a shot and downed it in one go, barely wincing at the burn as it slid down his throat. The second one went down just as easily, a bitter warmth settling in his chest, but it didn’t quiet the storm in his head the way he hoped it would.

His eyes flicked toward the clock on the microwave.

1:37 AM.

You were still out.

Another shot. Another slow burn in his chest.

Dean knew he had no right to be this worked up about it. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to you except your best friend—your roommate. That was the problem.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

When the hell did everything get so complicated?

It wasn’t just the dream. Sure, it cracked something open in him, but if he was honest with himself, there had always been something simmering underneath. He could see it now—in the way his past relationships never worked out, how no one else ever seemed enough because in the back of his mind, he was always comparing them to you. The way he told you things he didn’t tell anyone, not even his own mother.

Seventeen years.

You had been in his life for seventeen years. That was longer than most marriages. 

Damn, he really was an idiot. How could he have been so blind to it, so ignorant to what was staring him right in the face the whole time? 

Then, he heard it.

The distinct jingle of keys outside the door, followed by a clumsy, muffled “shit" breaking him out of his reverie.

Dean sighed, setting his glass down before pushing off from the counter. He made his way to the door just as he heard another "fuck", then a quiet thud—like something hitting the floor.

Through the peephole, he spotted you crouched down, fumbling for your keys, struggling to fit them into the lock.

You were clearly drunk.

Dean shook his head with a smirk, unlocking the door from his side just as you managed to steady yourself, one hand braced against the door handle. The moment he pulled it open, you stumbled forward, nearly toppling over—until his arms caught you.

You crashed into his chest with a soft “Hmph.”

Dean's arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you up as you melted against him, giggling into his shirt. The scent of alcohol clung to you, a mix of whiskey and whatever fruity drink you had been sipping on all night.

“Jesus." You huffed, pushing off him, though you wobbled as you tried to find your footing. Dean kept his hands out, ready to catch you again if needed.

"You good, sweetheart?" He asked, raising a brow as he took in your dazed smile and glassy eyes.

You grinned up at him, your expression pure blissed-out drunkenness. "I'm just perfect, Dean’o."

Dean smirked at the nickname, but before he could say anything, you reached up and grasped his jaw between your thumb and fingers, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“Okay, alright—enough of that.” He groaned, peeling your hand away. You didn’t seem to realise your own strength at the moment, and if you squeezed any harder, you were gonna leave a dent in his damn face.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, before your attention drifted over his shoulder. Then your expression dropped into something heartbreakingly close to a pout.

“Awww,” you whined. “You’re drinking without me?”

You sounded genuinely upset, your lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated fashion. Before Dean could respond, you made a clumsy grab for the bottle on the counter.

But Dean was quicker.

Before your fingers could wrap around the neck of the whiskey bottle, his hand closed over yours, pulling it away with ease. “Yeah, no. You’ve had enough,” he said firmly, setting the bottle behind him and out of reach.

You frowned up at him, your brows knitting together like a scolded child. “You’re no fun.”

Dean smirked, amused at how downright grumpy you looked, like a kid being denied dessert. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You need some water, sweetheart. Not more booze.”

You huffed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want water, I want whiskey.”

“Tough,” Dean said, already turning to grab a glass from the cabinet. “You’re getting water.”

Your pout deepened as he filled the glass from the tap, sliding it toward you. You eyed it like it personally offended you before reluctantly picking it up and taking a sip—your way of conceding to his demand, albeit with an exaggerated sigh.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. You were something else.

Once you were distracted with your water, he leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms over his chest. He could still feel the tension coiling in his gut, the jealousy he’d been drowning in all night, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“So,” he started, keeping his tone casual, but his fingers clenched against his biceps. “How was it?”

You blinked up at him, confused. “How was what?”

Dean gave you a look. “Your date.”

At that, you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Oh, that.” You waved a hand dismissively. “It was awful.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly you admitted it. He’d expected you to defend the guy, maybe try to convince yourself it had been a good time. But no—just flat-out awful.

“Yeah?” He prompted, keeping his voice even, but he could already feel his chest loosening just a little.

You leaned against the counter, your drunken state making you extra expressive as you talked with your hands. “First of all, the guy is so uptight. Like, I swear, he’s never laughed in his life. I tried joking around, and he just blinked at me like I was speaking another language.”

Dean snorted, already picturing it.

“And then,” you continued, eyes wide with disbelief, “all he did was talk about himself. Nonstop. Like, dude, I asked him one question—one—about his job, and suddenly I was stuck in a TED Talk about marketing strategies. Like I don’t work for the same company.” You threw your arms out in a ‘are you kidding me’ gesture.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like a real winner.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you said, holding up a finger. “So, we order food, right? And I get a cheeseburger, because, you know, I wanted a damn cheeseburger.”

Dean nodded approvingly. “Good choice.”

“Right?” You gestured wildly, as if proving your point. “But Gary—freaking Gary—looks at me and goes, ‘Are you sure you wanna eat that? You should really watch your figure.’”

Dean froze. His smirk disappeared.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe the words had actually come out of your mouth.

Then his expression darkened, jaw tightening. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wish.”

Dean’s grip on his bicep tightened, his teeth grinding together. That prick. He had known from the start that Gary was a tool, but this? This was another level.

“So,” you continued, a mischievous glint in your eye, “I did what any rational, level-headed woman would do in that situation.”

Dean arched a brow. “And that was?”

You grinned, leaning in like you were about to tell him a secret. “I threw my drink in his face and left.”

Dean stared at you for a beat, then—He laughed.

A deep, genuine laugh that rumbled in his chest as pride swelled in him. “No shit?”

“No shit.” You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “Right in his smug, stupid, judgy face.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. That’s my girl, he thought, though he would never say it out loud.

“But instead of coming straight home,” you continued, twirling your glass of water between your fingers, “I didn’t wanna deal with your I told you so—”

Dean smirked. “I would’ve said it.”

You shot him a look. “—so, I went to the Roadhouse instead. Had a few drinks, bitched about my failed date to Jo and Ellen. Ellen cut me off and called me a cab.” Dean huffed. That sounded about right.

For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the way you had perked up again, the lingering frustration in your eyes slowly melting into something softer.

You were here.

Not out with Gary. Not waking up next to some guy who didn’t deserve you. Not letting some self-important idiot tell you who you should be.

You were home. With him.

And as much as he wanted to tell you that he had been losing his damn mind all night, picturing you with someone else—he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, and smirked.

"Well," Dean said, tilting his head with a smirk. "At least you got a good story out of it."

"Yeah, I guess." You hummed, swirling the water in your glass. The initial amusement faded as your shoulders dropped slightly. Dean caught the shift immediately, his brows pulling together.

"C’mon, you can’t really be cut up about a guy with an Edward Scissor-hands haircut and zero game." He teased, hoping to pull you out of whatever downward spiral you were heading into.

It worked—your laughter bubbled out, a full, belly-deep laugh that made the tension in his chest ease. But then you sighed, the sound quieter this time, more pensive. "It’s not him I’m cut up about."

Dean watched you carefully as you traced the rim of your glass with your finger. "I just feel like I can never meet a good guy."

Something inside him twisted.

What about me?

The thought came unbidden, sharp and intrusive, and he shoved it down before it could take root. Instead, he nudged you with his elbow.

"That’s not true." His voice was lighter now, teasing again. "What about Mikey? The guy with the lisp?"

His grin widened as he mimicked a lisp, knowing damn well you’d dated the guy for barely two months in your sophomore year before his clinginess drove you up the wall. The look of horror that crossed your face had him biting back a laugh.

"Oh my God, Dean!" You gawked at him before landing a solid punch to his arm. "That is so mean!"

"Ow," he complained through his laughter, rubbing the spot you hit. "I’m serious, though! He was a real sweetheart.” He exaggerated the lisp again, barely dodging your next swing.

"I swear to God—" You huffed, turning to stomp off, but before you could escape, he caught your arm gently.

"Okay, okay, I’m done. Scouts honour." He held up three fingers in a mock solemn gesture.

You gave him a look—like you absolutely did not believe him—but still, with a huff, you reclaimed your spot opposite him and took another sip of water.

Then, almost absentmindedly, you sighed. "I mean, it has been a long time."

Dean’s brow furrowed. "A long time since what?"

You hesitated for a brief second before shrugging your shoulders, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. "Since I’ve had sex."

Dean choked on his own damn saliva.

You frowned in concern, but he quickly waved you off, reaching for his whiskey to cover up the way his throat had suddenly gone dry.

You leaned back against the counter, lost in thought, completely oblivious to the war you’d just started in his head.

"I just—I don’t even need romance, you know?" You shrugged. "At this point, I’d settle for a little fun. I even bought new lingerie for tonight, just in case, and now"— you gestured vaguely to yourself, "totally wasted."

Dean swallowed—hard.

His mind was already in dangerous territory, but now it plummeted straight into the gutter.

You’d bought lingerie? For tonight?

His gaze instinctively flicked down for half a second before he caught himself, before he could let himself really think about what you were implying. Because if you had planned for tonight—if you were wearing it right now—

God help him.

The image hit him like a freight train. You, laid out in something lacey and delicate, something sheer enough to tease but not reveal, maybe even those crotchless panties you’d pointed out the other day in that damn store—his stomach twisted, his fingers curling around his glass with a little too much force.

And the worst part? Some other guy was supposed to see you like that tonight.

That thought sent something hot and possessive burning through his veins.

Dean exhaled sharply, gripping the back of his neck as he forced his gaze anywhere but at you.

"Gary didn’t deserve to see you like that." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, his voice lower than before.

You scoffed. "Yeah, well, no one else is seeing it either, so it really doesn’t matter."

It matters to me.

Dean forced himself to take another sip of whiskey, as if that would drown out the thoughts swimming in his head.

With a stretch and a yawn, you set your empty glass down and pushed off the counter. "Alright, I’m gonna head to bed. Thanks for making me drink water, Mom." You teased, because Dean was always more like a mother hen than a strict father.

Dean smirked, watching as you stepped closer. He expected you to give him a casual pat on the arm or maybe ruffle his hair like you sometimes did when you were feeling particularly annoying.

Instead, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Or, at least, that’s where it was meant to land.

At the last second, whether it was the whiskey in your system or just bad aim, your lips caught the corner of his mouth.

You gasped softly, your breath fanning over his lips, and then you giggled. "Shit—sorry."

Dean didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Because you were still right there, inches away, your body just barely brushing his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

Something in the air shifted.

The easy playfulness between you dissolved into something else—something warm and electric, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Your smile faded, lips parting slightly as you lingered, hesitating just a second longer than necessary.

Then, before he could say a damn thing, before he could even think—

You leaned in again.

And this time, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, your lips pressing against his in a way that felt like a question. Like you were giving him the chance to pull away, to stop this before it could turn into something neither of you could take back.

Dean’s entire body locked up. His mind screamed at him to push you away, to remind you that you’d been drinking, that this was just a moment of drunken impulse, that tomorrow you might regret this.

But then you pressed in closer, deepening the kiss, your fingers skimming up his arm, and his resolve shattered.

A low, quiet sound rumbled in his throat as he gave in. Completely.

His hands found your waist, gripping tight, pulling you against him as he kissed you back. And not just kissed you—devoured you. All the tension from the past few days, all the frustration, the longing, the confusion—it poured out of him like a damn breaking.

Your lips were warm, soft, intoxicating in a way no drink could ever compare to. He let himself get lost in it, let himself feel it—how perfect you felt against him, how natural this was, like it had been inevitable all along.

You sighed against his mouth, your fingers sliding up into his hair, and Dean groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss even further.

He didn’t know when his hands had moved, but now one was tangled in your hair, the other splayed against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. And fuck, you felt good. Too good.

This was dangerous.

And when you finally pulled away, lips kiss-swollen and breaths unsteady, Dean couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. His heart pounded like a war drum; each beat a sharp, insistent reminder of the storm raging inside him.

He should say something. Do something. But every word he might’ve spoken tangled in his throat, choked by the weight of what had just happened.

“Woah,” you whispered, your voice barely more than breath. Your eyes flickered between his and his mouth, never quite settling, like you were just as caught in the moment as he was. Your cheeks were flushed, heat radiating from your skin, and the ghost of your breath still lingered against his lips, dizzying and sweet.

Dean didn’t move. Didn’t dare move. The air between you crackled, fragile and electric, holding him captive in a moment he wasn’t ready to break.

He was waiting for you. Like always.

Your breath ghosted against his lips, and that was all it took.

You kissed him again, this time with more heat, more purpose, fingers tangling into the front of his shirt as you pulled him in. Dean let out a rough sound—somewhere between a groan and a sigh—before his hands found your waist, gripping tight as he backed you up against the counter. The edge dug into your lower back, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way he was pressing into you, solid and warm and overwhelming in the best way.

His hands slid down, grasping the backs of your thighs, and before you could fully process it, he lifted you effortlessly onto the countertop.

A surprised gasp left your lips, but Dean was already there, swallowing the sound as he kissed you again, deeper, slower, his fingers digging into your hips. You pulled him in, locking your legs around his waist, desperate to feel more of him, and his hands wandered—exploring the soft, bare skin of your thighs, gliding higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as he went.

He trailed kisses down your jaw, moving to your neck, and when his lips found that one spot—the spot—you let out a soft moan, your head tipping back instinctively.

Only to smack it straight into the cabinet behind you.

The entire moment shattered.

You winced, immediately bringing a hand to the back of your head. Dean jerked back, eyes wide with concern.

“Shit—are you okay?” He cupped your jaw, scanning your face for any sign of real pain.

For a second, you just blinked at him—then, out of nowhere, you started giggling.

Dean frowned, still searching your eyes, but when you kept laughing, it broke him. He snorted, shaking his head, then let out a deep, full-bodied chuckle, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He pulled back, still grinning, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

You sighed dramatically. “That the universe hates me?”

Dean smirked, his hands settling on your hips. “That you’re not sober enough for this.” His answer was loaded, a heavy realisation for himself that you were in no state of mind to be making any rational decisions right now, and that he should've known better than to take advantage of that. 

You pouted slightly, but you both knew he was right. Still, there was something soft in his expression as he helped you down, steadying you with warm hands on your waist. The moment your feet hit the ground, you swayed a little, still a bit disoriented.

Dean caught you instantly. “Okay, yeah. You need to lie down, sweetheart.”

You groaned but didn’t fight him as he led you to your room, making sure you didn’t trip over your own feet. Once you were settled, he disappeared briefly before returning with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, setting them on your nightstand.

“You’re a saint,” you mumbled, already sinking into the mattress.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Not quite. Just don’t want you becoming a pain in my ass in the morning when your head’s pounding.” He said as he helped pull off your shoes and settled you under the covers.

You cracked one eye open, looking at him with something unreadable, something soft. “Could never hate you, Dean.” You mumbled half asleep. 

He looked at you, lingering for a second too long. Then stood, with a small exhale.

“Call me if you need anything.” He told you as he walked to the door. You hummed your acknowledgment, and with that, he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Dean barely made it to his own room before he collapsed onto the bed, dragging both hands down his face.

What the fuck just happened?

The feel of you, the taste of your lips—it was burned into him now, like some kind of cruel brand.

It was just a kiss. Just a few incredible, amazing kisses. But now he knew for sure, no one would ever compare now.

And that thought terrified him.

Because tomorrow, you might not even remember. And if you did, would you be embarrassed? Regret it? Or worse, hate him?

Dean stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight, mind racing.

Yeah. He was so fucked.

AN: There we have it folks, the first chapter! It was a long one 😅 I know, but I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback etc ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom

Next Time...

Your gaze dipped—just for a second—betraying you as it flickered to his mouth. You could still feel it, the way he kissed you. Rough but deliberate. His lips, the taste of whiskey, the way his hands— Dean cleared his throat, stepping back. "I’m gonna head to the store," he said, voice a little too casual. "Grab some food." You blinked, snapping out of it. "Oh. Yeah, okay." He hesitated, like he was about to ask you to come with him, but then his lips twitched. "Would’ve invited you, but, uh… you kinda look like the walking dead. Don’t want you cramping my style.” Your head shot up, levelling him with a glare. "Ass." Dean just grinned. "Try not to die while I’m gone." And with that, he grabbed his keys and walked out the door, leaving you alone in the kitchen. Your fingers tightened around the coffee mug as you exhaled, long and slow. Yeah. You were so screwed.

[asksonicverse]

How did Emerald and Shade end up rooming together?

Were they just the two leftover? Otherwise I would have thought that Shade would pick Eight since they‘ve worked together during the metal virus arc.

Is Shade embarrassed that he got turned? Does he feel cringe now? Is he aggressively dodging that 'I told you so'? Is that what this is?

[ Creator Special! ]

Okay: first note! Sorry for the lack of updates the last two days :D I’m working on ironing out a few bits to Paradox and Prisms story and I’ve been a bit busy with life things! In the meantime: behind the scenes!

-

Emerald and Shade ended up together because, yes to all of your reasons.

They were the final ones left and while I did briefly consider putting Eight and Shade together, I decided against it because while Sonic and Shadow don’t hate eachother in IDW, I wouldn’t call them close enough yet to share.

Going to be real, I don’t think Shade and Emerald really talk. They just mutually agree “ok, pillow wall, you get that side I’ll get this one” they sleep, wake up, and leave the tent.

also I loved how you worded this ask it was hilarious: short answer yes

Same thing for Eight and Bandi, except Eight is curled up all the way on the far side of the tent and their pillow wall is twice as tall.

I wish I could do a bit more with Eights touch adverseness and show it but he’s been ASLEEP.

Also no one rooming with boost was very mutual with all.

Everyone saw an extra tent and was like “uhh boost you can have that one dude” (he kicks in his sleep)

I will reply DAMN YOU!!!! /lh

But yes!! Don’t worry my friends, I won’t ONLY focus on Paradox and Prism. I will do little mini comics of dynamic development between all the others.

I also want to start doing more Shadow and Shadow and Sonic and Sonic’s interactions. I feel like right now I mostly have Shadows and Sonic’s just interacting with their versions and I’m like?? Make friends guys!!

Okay so the way I’m approaching this:

The only Sonics in the same “timeline” are Classic and Emerald.

While Emerald (and other sonics and shadows) have experienced the same/similar events, doesn’t mean he was there for those versions. That might not make sense idk it’s 1 am.

So like, for SATBK, he does recognize Lancelot, but it’s not the Lancelot he knew.

For our SATBK story, it’s the exact same, except King Arthur and everyone had some weird magic spell cast on them that made them weird, Arthur has memory loss, game events happen, memory back, peace restored! Yay.

So yeah, they could have a good chat about it but still different.

Previous | next

[allpiesforourown]

Pie help, Im thinking about your reverse au cranked to 20.

Binghe who has made his A-Yuan completely reliant on him. Who moved him into the bamboo house, but oops the furniture isn't set up yet we'll just share a bed. No new furniture ever comes but it's okay its more comfortable like this.

Binghe who convinced SY to never go in the kitchen after that one accident where SY burnt his hand. Its just to dangerous. Shizun will take care of all the cooking and tea making.

Binghe who mixes Qi dampeners and muscle relaxers into SY's food so suddenly SY is having trouble in his classes. He can't keep up his sword stance and his hands shake when he tries to write. Its okay, A-Yuan just needs a break from classes to focus on meditation. Shizun will excuse him.

Binghe who kisses away every argument. Who holds Yuan close and gently works the tension from his body. Binghe licking and sucking every trace of disagreement until his Yuan is soft and receptive once again.

Binghe who comes home to his adorable diciple asleep at the desk again. Surrounded by monster books. The ones on cultivation just seemed to disappear from the house, so strange. He carries Yuan to their bed, wrapping him in his arms. Yuan's body opens so easily for him. So tight and hot and welcoming to Binghe burring himself inside.

And Shen Yuan, who feels so weak and helpless, waking up in the middle. He wraps his arms around Binghe, kissing and moaning. He wants to be good for his Shizun, whos been so kind and understanding. So he lifts his hips and spreads his legs, because he has nothing else be could give his caring, loving, doting, Shizun whos already given him so much.

I see the appeal of attic wife shen yuan (who wouldn't want to keep him all to themself...) but shen yuan being a strong cultivator is one of his most charming features... him being one of the few people who protects binghe with his life is what makes binghe so obsessed with him.. besides a-yuan needs to cultivate to immortality so they can be together forever and ever and ever...

But yeah the rest is. Yeah. Yeah...