#the saving each other over and over again

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Unsteady

You get hit on patrol. You go down hard. What happens after is a blur, but what you do know, is that you were never scared for a moment. ~ 2k words

A/N: I wanted to try a new format for my fics, so pictures! I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, tho, so I might change it again

Being a vigilante in Gotham has never been easy. Between the bullet wounds, secret societies, and their attempted brainwashing tactics, and the more than a little tricky partnerships you have to navigate, sometimes you wonder how you've managed to make it for so long.

Don't get it wrong, saving people, taking out criminals, making the streets a little bit safer, you thrive on it. You live for the moments where you feel invincible, shouting awful quips back and forth with whoever you're patrolling with. The seconds where a civilian grabs your hand, smiling and alive and relieved by how easily you've taken down their attackers.

You do good in Gotham, a city that always seems to lack it. And, even if there are dangers that come with it, you've never really minded the risk. At least, not since you've started patrolling with Red Hood.

You're not exactly sure how it started. One day, you spent your nights alone more often than not, and then one day, you didn't. You think it might have been the Falcone bust you worked on together, or maybe it was the trauma bonding over getting trapped and tangled in Ivy's latest strain of living, grabby plant traps together.

Whatever it was, more nights than not, Red Hood lingers at your side while you traverse rooftops, and you've found a routine in following him on his own patrols through Crime Alley and The Hill. What started as a tentative trust quickly built to a steady partnership.

You know which ankle he tends to roll if he lands on the pavement wrong. He knows which shoulder you tend to favor when Gotham gets cold. You know his favorite street food vendor and order by heart. He knows what safehouses you stash your preferred drinks and snacks in– and how often they need to be resupplied.

You both keep each other from being too reckless, and honestly, you don't think either of you have ever really had that. It's not either of you have stopped throwing yourself into fights where you're outnumbered (but never out matched), it's just that you're not alone doing it.

Red Hood– Jason– has your back the same way you have his. And it makes Gotham a little less terrifying. It makes patrol– the idea that one day a simple mistake could mean you don't come home– a little less burdensome.

You knew you relied on him, maybe a little too much if you thought too hard about it. You just didn't realize how much space you made for him until it was pointed out to you. Nightwing makes note of it first, teasing you for having an entire pouch on your utility belt dedicated to extra ammo magazines for Red Hood's gun. Robin notices it next, admonishing you for not checking your six during a fight, even if Jason was covering you.

You'd be embarrassed if Red Hood didn't have the same amount of faith in you as you did in him. He trusts you to take point on missions, believes you when you offer him tips and whispers of cases he's working on.

You try not to read too far into it, but how could you feel anything but special when he so willingly lets you wander Crime Alley at his side, and rarely anyone else? When he calls you his partner? Calls dibs on patrolling with you? How could you not revel in the fact that someone so big and capable and sure in himself relies on you?

But for all the trust and skill that exists between you and Red Hood, sometimes you get unlucky. Sometimes, all it takes is one misstep, one slow reaction, for it all to go wrong.

It was supposed to be easy, routine. Just a small group of thugs trying to break their way into the back alley entrance of a jewelry store. It was supposed to be simple– you were even having fun, holding back laughter at how quickly they seemed to fall to the ground with each well aimed kick and jab.

With Red Hood taking one end of the alley and you the other, you thought you had them surrounded, you didn't even consider that there were more people around the corner.

You didn't hear them come up behind you– more preoccupied with dodging a punch to your throat– when a loud crack sounds through the alley. You drop to your knees– ears ringing, bile rising in your throat, vision swimming.

The back of your head aches, and you know you're in danger, likely concussed. But you don't know what happened– was it a pipe? A bat? You know you need to move, but you can't get your body to listen, can't get yourself off of the ground as the world seems to tip and fade in and out as you heave.

You wait for the next hit, another burst of pain, but it never comes. There's shouting– gunshots maybe, you can't focus on it. You force your gaze up, and the colors and figures seem to blur into one nauseating sight.

You think you make out Red Hood, slamming one of the men into the ground. It's hard to process anything– to understand what you're seeing. Red Hood lurches towards you, or maybe he's just moving onto the next goon. Maybe he doesn't even know you're down.

You can't tell and maybe you should be scared. All it would take is one well aimed bullet to change everything. But you're not afraid. Even as black dots dance in your vision, even as your stomach churns and the noises that fill the alley seem pitched and garbled in your ears, you know that Red Hood will not let you die.

You think you see someone raising a bat to strike at you. You want to block, defend yourself, but your body feels too heavy to move. You squeeze your eyes shut instead, trying to quell the bile in your throat as you curl your fingers into fists, desperately trying to stop shaking, to ward off the cold sweats and pain that seem to be radiating on every inch of your skin.

You wait for the inevitable strike that will knock you clean into unconsciousness, but it still doesn't come. You lean forward, gasping for air as another wave of dizziness hits you, when gentle hands grab your shoulders, guiding you to straighten out again.

"Hey, hey," the familiar robotic voice washes over you, steady, if not a little anxious to the trained ear, "I've got you, open your eyes for me, sweet thing. Lemme see you."

You do, unable to do anything but listen. Bodies lay crumpled around you in the alley. You don't quite understand how he got to you so fast. He was on the other side of the alley, nearly a dozen men between the two of you, and it feels like he fought his way to your side within seconds. Maybe you had gone down longer– and harder– then you realized.

"There you are," He murmurs, carefully tilting your chin up to examine your face, he watches you for a moment, the way your breath doesn't quite seem to find a regular rhythm. He brushes his fingers over the back of your head next, feeling for any fractures in your skull.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he finds none, "Looks like it's just a concussion, some bruising. We'll get you back to the cave, make sure you're not bleeding, alright?"

You want to nod, but you think if you moved right now you think you'd throw up into his lap. Which would be mortifying. You also might be incredibly distracted by how close he is. It's not every day you get to admire the way his hair peeks out from under his hood, the set of his broad shoulders, the way the whites of his mask seem to glow in the shadows of the alley.

He's incredibly handsome in the Gotham moonlight.

And then he laughs, lowering his hand from the back of your head, "Thanks, doll. Think you can stand up on your own?"

Oh. Did you say that out loud? You didn't mean to. You furrow your eyebrows, trying to get the words you actually want to say off of your tongue, "M'fine," you mumble, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to get your world to stop spinning for a moment, to try and find your balance.

"You're slurring your words," he points out, hands finding your shoulders again as you pitch slightly to the side, "How's your head?"

"Hurts," You admit, giving up on your attempt to stand. You choose to admire him instead, the curve of his throat, the tilt of his jaw towards you.

"I bet," He mumbles, before falling silent, letting the moment linger just long enough for you to start to relax, lulled into a daze by your dizziness. "I'm going to carry you," he decides.

You don't get to protest, as if you're in the state to. He just maneuvers himself to your side, gently hooking one arm around your back, and the other under your knees to lift you to his chest.

A new wave of nausea runs down your spine, and you tuck your head into his shoulder, fingers curling against the red bat engraved into his armor, "Sorry" Jason mumbles, going still as he waits for your dizzy spell to pass, "Guess he got you good, huh?"

"Was my fault," you sigh out, closing your eyes as you nuzzle closer into the comfort of the crook of his neck, "Got complacent." It takes you longer than it should have to sound your syllables out, even longer to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, but you think you manage to sound at least slightly coherent.

"Nah, sweetheart, it was mine," He lowers his voice even more as he talks, careful not to make your head ring anymore than it already is, to not jostle your injuries (and brain) and more than they already have, "I should have seen him. Should have warned you," he tells you, slowly and methodically carrying you out of the alley, away from the carnage he created.

If your eyes were open, you'd see exactly how driven he was to get to you– how he left bodies broken and mangled in his one purpose of protecting you. Instead, all you notice is the familiar smell of leather and gunpowder radiating from him.

You shake your head, "Red–" You cut off your own words with a wince, hiding your face deeper into his neck as your whole body seems to pound with pain. You really just want to tug his mask off, to listen to the way his voice dips to a soothing tenor without the modulator, to watch the way his eyes linger on your face, but you're quick to push the notion away, to blame it on your jumbled thoughts.

You suck in a breath as the nausea passes, "You're not responsible for my mistakes." You sound weaker than you mean to, words more slurred than you'd like, but you hope you get your point across.

His breathing seems to stutter in his chest for a moment, and his fingers dip a little tighter into divots of your amour, "Feels like it, though. I hate seeing you get hurt like this."

The confession should be heavy, but it just makes heat bloom straight from your heart, makes you lightheaded in all the best ways. You don't hide the smile that threatens to take over your face, "Yeah. Me too. About you, I mean." You hope that he understands, even if your words aren't as poetic or eloquent as you want them to be, you hope he knows what you're trying to say.

The tension seems to drain from his body at your words, and he lowers his head to press his mask to the top of your head, the mirror of a kiss. Both of you go quiet, basking in each other's touch– the rise and fall of your chest– alive– as your pain finally fades into a dull ache.

Later, you'll protest being taken off of patrol for two weeks. Later, you'll complain that Jason gets to take out the Two-Face shipment you've been planning for weeks. But for now, he's warm. He's holding you close. And there's nowhere safer for you than his arms.

[xxxstraightfromtheheartxxx]

Read my tags first, ran out of space.

Note: I change my mind a few times throughout this text post, what I began with is not entirely what I ended with. And I’m not even sure of the ‘conclusion’ I got to. However I’m too tired to try and figure the rest out about it right now. Might change this post later when I have made up my mind or got more questions about it. Heads up! Spelling- and other mistakes in writing, were made. Frequently.

I know my tags make me a hypocrite and that’s one of the judgemental thought processes I’ve been fighting/growing against most for a while now.

I expect people to think similarly to me about this and that’s not within my right, they don’t owe me anything for the choice I decided to make and put the hard work in for. That I’ve suffered for it and for the patience I’ve had to bring up towards others being judgemental and having prejudices they didn’t fight within themselves. The frustration I keep feeling every time I have to explain to other adults how to respect accept and see minorities or marginalised groups as equal in worth to themselves. It’s so tiring, and I’m just white, I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and have these conversations to protect yourself and your family and friends and loved ones over and over again whilst still experiencing racist comments assumptions treatment behaviour bullying exclusion exploitation… through systemic racism, racist communities,through so many facets of their lives.

I feel like I’ve been shouting for equality. Not sure if that’s the best most respectful word for it in english, in my language literally translated our word means ‘equally worthy”. And to me that means that from birth we should all be treated with the same amount of respect love and acceptance. It’s only society, nurture that causes this inequality to exist, that not only allows but encourages prejudices and othering for power. Shouting at people who seemingly just refuse to open their eyes, minds and hearts and keep humanity from growing into healthier behavioural patterns in the future. They refuses to put in more effort to try our best to avoid wars, make the idea of hurting another person out of anything other than self defence, be heavily rejected, punished. Instead of not saving each other out of fear for economic and political threats to our own habitants and countries. To be unified so firmly by the absolute belief that violence is wrong, that those fears wouldn’t even be an issue because we’re all know all the other countries will still have our backs and we’d be able to function without the country that’s trying to start or continue a war, while only having to put in mild effort to be entirely independent from the threatening county, as humanity instead of as “individual countries”. It would cut the county/group at war of their resources entirely, which would endanger them to much to be able to actually be able to hold out being at war and making an actual big difference in the big picture of our common humanity. I know there are many weapons that could destroy so many at the same time, yet they would be poisoning the ground they so gladly wish to live on. (Ofcourse this is an ideal that is almost utopian).

This is the goal I thought we were all collectively working towards throughout our entire lives. To eventually be able to all come together in the far away future. All of the warmhearted people in the world.

And therefore we have to start within our small circle of influence and be open to try and learn to understand and respect each other with our differences and similarities, To expect people to be good and ourselves to put effort in it.

However completely swerved away from my original point. But it is the root of that frustration, hurt, disappointment and envy I experience when I see or hear or feel negative judgement .

People have been calling me stern and too strict and rigid in thought more in the last 4 years. It’s because I’ve been responding to prejudices and discriminatory behaviour and ideas verbally, and I have to admit about 50% of the time quite hard, not disrespectful, but clear. I’ve been setting boundaries over what way there can be spoken about others and myself with me. This week I even threatened to leave the room and wouldn’t continue conversing with them if they didn’t then stop casually using the n-word, while knowing it is wrong and hurtful and what my opinion and feeling was towards it. They called my stern and frowned and sighed but at least could bring it up not to say it with me around anymore. I know I haven’t changed their behaviour without my presence this way and it saddens me to feel them rejecting that part of myself that’s at the core of me. My moral core believe of equality.

When people won’t widen their view for one minority it makes me feel unsafe as part of multiple other minorities. I’m a queer womxn with persistent mental health issues, who isn’t able to work because of it and I’m neurodivergent and have some invisible fysical issues (I have loads of allergies which used to give me big rashes of eczema in my envoys and knees and later hands and feet, it has improved a lot, the amount of allergies keeps expanding though) ( I have a very small amount of energy compared to most people my age because of having to put in too much effort as a child and teen) to take care of others and secretly fighting feelings of depression). I’m lucky to be middle-class, white and have affordable healthcare here. All of these other aspects have made life harder for me throughout my entire life. Yet others have mostly blamed me and pestered me, excluded and avoided me for my inabilities and difference, including the inability to l love men.

It feels unfair that I try so hard to be accepting, understand and respectful of others, and not get the same amount of effort and care back… which is hypocrite of me, because the people I want to make the biggest changes never asked me to do all that. And while their lives are often so much easier specifically on the those societal aspects, does that make them owe me that effort back?

I feel like yes, they should, because they have more space for it, for questioning their prejudices than us. Because of the privileges of the main beliefs in their society, they didn’t have to lift a finger for throughout their entire lives. For all of the freedom and respect they’ve just got thrown in their laps, that took up so much of our lives for us to assemble a resemblance to their quality of life.

(Many people who have to fight for their lives daily, do not have that time or space so they only get to grow slower and are part of minority or marginalised groups as well. Bc evidently their is a lot of prejudice within those groups towards the other groups who are also being pressed down.)

I don’t know if I still think it’s hypocrite of me to expect people to put effort in being good. I don’t think so. The length they are able to go through to make those improvements however, I should bare in mind stronger again, like I used to.

If I give up on following my moral compass on this, I’ll never be the person I hope to be one day. I do feel like I deserve to give myself a break and be forgiving about those negative thoughts because they come from a desire for righteousness and good. Recognise, reject, correct, forgive and trust that I’ll do better next time because it is what I truly want to in the long run. I show myself to not always respond and to better pick my battles, so I can persevere and rebuild my energy for when I can make a bigger impact In the braided context or my own. However when I notice bad behaviour or judgement towards others, I do use little parts of it to give them a correcting look or to speak up for someone else or recently even for myself.

Totally did not see this rant coming!!

I knew this theme has been more at the front of my mind again recently and that I’ve been prickly about it, yet I hasn’t reflected on its origin as deeply as I did just now. So here, little amount of people this will reach, have some personal information from my brain and my heart.

.

I’ve been typing this for so long and my attention span has loosened throughout writing. I don’t supposes I’ve managed to make everything clear, I got more and more tired and created some weird sentence structures and maybe grammar and def phrasing to try to get my point through or at least comprehended.

Don’t come at me about the war part, I know it is unrealistic to achieve anything like that in our lifetimes.

Yet I’m holding onto this dream for dear life. Otherwise what is there? To grow towards, to live for? It all comes to recognising, appreciating, sharing and maintaining the good there is now and nurturing the good to come.

The way you change your immediate reactions to things is that you catch yourself having an uncharitable/bigoted/overly judgmental thought and you catch it and replace it and then you do that a hundred times a day for your whole life and eventually one day like five years later you realize that you think differently now and you’ll always be working on something but that’s how life goes and that’s fine.

[burningembers91]

Kimchi Stew - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader (Slight NSFW)

Follow up to: The Girl Next Door

Synopsis: As your relationship develops, Hwang In-Ho is torn between his devotion to his wife, and his growing feelings for you.

Warnings: 18+ only, mentions of deceased wife, themes of depression and loneliness, masturbation

 It had been six weeks since the pipe in your kitchen had burst. Six weeks since you’d gone to your neighbour for help. Hwang In-Ho had been round many times since then, first to return the bowl you’d left outside his door, then to fix a curtain pole he’d noticed was slightly wonky. He then fixed the leg of your sofa, the one that had never sat quite straight. He constantly found something to fix, something that needed a little tweak here and there. Your apartment was the size of a matchbox, but your neighbour never ran out of things to fix.

You’d been shocked the first time you laid eyes on him with his unkempt hair and scraggly beard, the clothes that hung off his thin frame. What struck you most, however, was the deep-rooted sadness in his eyes. You’d never seen anything like it, had never seen someone so broken. In recent weeks however, you’d noticed subtle changes. The day after the kitchen pipe fiasco, he returned with the bowl you’d filled with kimchi stew, his scraggly beard now gone. His face was handsome, his features chiselled, but his eyes blazed with unspoken heartbreak. He began to slowly put on weight, his clothes appearing less baggy with each passing week. Some nights he ate with you, but most nights he chose to sit by himself at home, eating in silence as he listened to your music through the thin walls.

He was finding it harder to stay away from you, but he was running out of things in your apartment to fix. The other day he’d insisted on fixing a tap that wasn’t even broken. He found himself craving your company, found himself thinking of you each night before he went to sleep. His wife still occupied 95% of his brain space, but you were there too. Your smile, your laugh, your scent filled his mind, the familiar ache deep in the pit of his belly surfacing every now and again. He still thought about the way your breasts looked in your wet t-shirt, how pert your nipples were against the fabric. He thought about how you sounded when your ex would stay the night. How your sweet, soft moans would fill his apartment while you made love. He could feel the desire to touch himself returning, but he refused. He didn��t deserve happiness, not after he failed to save his wife and baby. He deserved to be alone.

Hwang In-Ho didn’t know you thought of him too. he didn’t know you longed to kiss that sadness away, that you wanted to hold him until he cried the tears you knew he was so desperate to shed. You’d never seen or heard anyone coming or leaving his apartment. When you went over to ask for help with your kitchen sink, you noticed that he had no furniture. The floors and walls were bare, save for a thin duvet and sleeping mat in the far corner of the room. You wanted to ask him what had happened, but In-Ho was a man of very few words. He had a gruff exterior, and when you were together, he barely spoke a word. He seemed to like the music you played though, so you made sure something was always on. You pretended not to notice when he started humming along to Sabrina Carpenter, but you couldn’t help but smile. You wondered if, on the nights he spent alone, he ate something other than packaged ramen.

Hwang In-Ho had begun to feel overwhelmed by loneliness. The time he spent with you had made him realise how badly he craved human connection. He was wracked with guilt for wanting to spend time with you, his duty to his long-dead wife and child still at the forefront of his mind. He was so lonely though, spending his nights thinking of her and of you, before he cried himself to sleep. He couldn’t go on like this; he needed the company of another soul. He’d ventured out a few weeks back to look for work. His money was all but gone, and he didn’t want to live like a hermit anymore. He’d secured a job as a shelf-stacker at a local supermarket, and while it wasn’t the swanky insurance job he’d had before, it was a start. He’d bought himself a small table and chairs, and a 2-seater sofa that looked out over the park. His apartment was finally starting to feel a little more like home. Now he just had to get the courage up to ask you over.

You beat him to it though, appearing at his door one day with that beautiful smile glued to your face. “Come for dinner tonight,” you smiled, your invite not a request, but an order. You could sense his loneliness, and you couldn’t allow yourself to neglect a fellow human in need. “Ok,” he said, his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. “Can you make kimchi stew?” “Of course! See you at 7. Don’t be late!” With that you left, and In-Ho felt excitement bubbling in his chest for the first time in a long time. He'd bought a new shirt the other day, a crisp white one that he’d ironed especially for the day he got the courage up to ask you over. He chose to wear it tonight, a nice change from the same three t-shirts he cycled through. He wanted to look nice, wanted to show you that appreciated the effort you were going to.

Your kimchi stew was just as delicious as always, the two of you eating in comfortable silence as Coldplay sang quietly over the speaker. You’d lit a few candles tonight, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. You looked beautiful in your red sweater and blue jeans, your eyes glistening in the glow from the candles. He listened to you talk, grateful that you could carry a conversation without much input needed from him. You told him about yourself, about your job and your friends. You were careful not to ask questions about him, sensing he didn’t want to divulge any personal information. He so badly wanted to tell you about himself. He wanted to tell you why he lived alone in a damp apartment, why he hadn’t smiled since his wife got sick. He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight, how your skin glowed when you smiled. He wanted to tell you how badly he wanted to kiss you; how much he wanted to know what it would feel like to run his fingers over the softness of your skin. He wanted to tell you how conflicted he was, how his head was filled with nothing but devotion to his wife and a growing attraction to you. He wanted to scream at the sky, to ask the universe why life was so fucking unfair. “Thank you for the stew,” was all he managed to say.

You refilled your wine glasses, listening as The Scientist began playing. The man opposite you was a mystery, one that you were dying to solve. You could tell he was trying, but he was still holding back. You had no idea what this was between you. it was certainly more than neighbours just being friendly, but it definitely wasn’t anything romantic, as much as you wanted it to be, but you weren’t sure if In-Ho felt the same. You were running out of things to talk about, but you didn’t want him to go home. “Do you want to play a card game?” you asked, desperate to find an excuse to keep him with you just a while longer. In-Ho nodded, not daring himself to speak. Your cheeks were flushed with the wine, your breasts perfectly outlined in your sweater. He shifted in his seat, his gaze roaming between your eyes, your breasts and a small crack in the ceiling above your fridge. He’d have to come back tomorrow to fix it.

You sat and played cards for a few hours, making your way through another bottle of wine. In-Ho was tipsy by the time he returned home, his mind free of anguished thoughts for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. He had a smile on his face, a proper one that made his jaw ache. You were so much fun, so funny, smart and beautiful. He didn’t want to leave, but he had work the next morning and if he had one more glass of wine, he’d been too hungover.

He lay staring at the ceiling that night, his thoughts filled with you. His wife was there too, she always was, but tonight you wouldn’t leave his mind. It was getting harder to deny his attraction to you, and he was struggling to stop his mind wandering. His hand palmed his stiffening cock, picturing the way you looked tonight. He thought about kissing your soft lips, thought about removing your sweater and pushing you down against your mattress. He pleasured himself to the thought of you moaning his name, the thought of you dragging your nails down his back. He thought about fucking you, about how it would feel to be inside you. His release was loud, his moan ricocheting off the walls as his seed painted his palm and belly. He didn’t care if you heard him, didn’t care if you knew what he was doing. The wine had made him a little looser, a little more carefree. In-Ho was undeniably infatuated with you, but as he came down from his self-induced high, he was overwhelmed by immense feelings of guilt. His wife had been the love of his life, the woman he had sworn to love and protect. He had failed to protect her, but he would always love her. He’d never imagined he’d meet another person that set his heart on fire. But you, you were the light at the end of a perpetually dark tunnel. Hwang In-Ho just had to find the courage to follow the light and leave the darkness for good.

[cloudgirlsonfilm]

for 0️⃣☁️ because i have a lot for them...

1. pure morning by placebo

both are a little washed up when they meet each other, and one of their first proper conversations probably over drinks and smokes over the course of a long night. it's as they realize the sun is rising that they look to each other and really think about what's sparked

2. oh! darling by the beatles

3. lonely in your nightmare by duran duran

lili tends to have very vivid dreams, good and bad, and it shows on her face when she sleeps. if it's evidently a good dream, rei can't help but feel jealous he can't look into it... he wishes he could be a witting part of her dreams, but he doesn't realize her dreams can be quite vacant without him

4. let's dance by david bowie

5. running up that hill (a deal with god) by kate bush

they struggle to communicate their needs constantly, and they both feel like they need each other even after their biggest fights. if only a deal with god could happen...

6. ... see number 4

7. save a prayer by duran duran

uncertainty in how long their unbridled passion will last them before lili's bed is left with a vacant spot again. he'll tell her to not worry about it in the morning, and then he's not there at all by then

8. usurahi shinjuu by megumi hayashibara

9. lay all your love on me by abba

10. two options

on the bound by fiona apple if we're talking one of them (0️⃣) seeing a truly repressed side

cold hearted by paula abdul if we're being lighthearted (he's a cold hearted snake!)

11. they don't get married, but if they did... refer to number 4 again

12. kiss me good-bye by buck-tick

13. matte kudasai by king crimson

Make a playlist for your ship

A song that plays over when they first see/meet each other

A song that reminds them of each other

A song that represents when they're dreaming of the other

A song that represents their happiest moment together

A song that represents their mutual struggle in life

A song they'd dance to together

A song that represents their uncertainty

A song when they're stuck in a room with the other

A song that represents (one of) their confessions

A song when they see the other's dark/secret side

A song that plays at their wedding

A song that would play over when one of them is near death or dies

A song they'd put on to comfort each other

Inspired by @more-oc-questions OC playlist template post

Angst alternative version

[jaikoyaki]

BAD TUTORS

//Pham Hanni x Reader x Kim Minji//Hogwarts Au//

SYPNOSIS: Y/N L/N, a struggling Gryffindor student with grades barely hanging on by a thread,  desperately needed a tutor. Her scores in Charms? Embarrassing. Potions? flabbergasting. Transfiguration? Let’s not even go there.  So, in a stroke of what she thought was genius. Y/N L/N had an idea. Why settle for one tutor when she could have two? And not just any two—she managed to rope in Kim Minji and Pham Hanni, the top Ravenclaws of their year.

TAGS: Short Oneshot, Harry Potter AU, Fem!Reader, Gryffindor!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

WARNINGS: Arguments/conflict (nothing toxic, just bickering), not proofread i got this idea at 2am

Y/N L/N, a struggling Gryffindor student with grades barely hanging on by a thread, desperately needed a tutor. Her scores in Charms? Embarrassing. Potions? Flabbergasting. Transfiguration? Let’s not even go there. So, in a stroke of what she thought was genius. Y/N L/N had an idea.

Why settle for one tutor when she could have two? And not just any two—she managed to rope in Kim Minji and Pham Hanni, the top Ravenclaws of their year.

The logic? Two Ravenclaw brains meant double the expertise, right?

WRONG.

DEAD WRONG.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, these two had been at each other’s throats since forever. The idea of tutoring together? Hell no, they’d rather scrub cauldron bottoms in Snape’s dungeon while listening to Jojo Siwa on repeat for eternity. That’s how much they hate each other. But despite their mutual hate for each other, they had one thing in common:

They both liked Y/N L/N.

And that was enough for them to reluctantly say yes.

Big mistake. Huge.

Now, Y/n not only had to deal with her sinking grades but also a splitting headache.

"Please, you barely even survived the last transfiguration quiz,"

Minji sneered, adjusting her Ravenclaw tie as she leaned over Y/N’s Transfiguration textbook, shooting a smug glance at Hanni from her spot on Y/N's right.

The shorter girl, seated to Y/N’s left, rolled her eyes. "I still got a 97, thank you very much."

"And who was the one with a 100?" Minji crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Y/N groaned, pressing her forehead against the wooden table of the Hogwarts library. Madam Pince gave them a warning glare from the counter, but Y/N couldn’t even muster the energy to care. She threw her hands up, whisper yelling. “Guys. Hello?? I got a 67. Can we maybe focus on that?”

Both girls immediately stopped arguing, their attention snapping back to Y/N as if they’d completely forgotten why they were there.

“Right,” Minji said, clearing her throat and pulling Y/N’s textbook closer. “Transfiguration basics. Let’s start with the theory-”

Hanni cut in before Minji could say more. “Actually, practical application is way more helpful. Here—” She pulled out her wand, aiming it at a nearby quill. “Let me show you.”

“Are you dumb? Theory first,” Minji insisted, glaring at Hanni. “She needs to understand the principles before she tries the spell.”

“Hands-on practice works better,” Hanni argued, her voice rising.

There they go again!

Y/N finally snapped, slamming her hands on the table with enough force to make both girls startled.

“Merlin’s beard, I’d rather be stuck with Peeves right now!”

Both girls blinked, guilt flickering across their faces. For a brief moment, the library was silent, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional distant cough.

Hanni cleared her throat, pulling the textbook closer as if to reclaim her composure. “Fine. Theory first.”

Your head’s spinning, but not from learning. No, it’s from enduring the non-stop back-and-forth between your two so-called tutors. Somehow, despite their constant bickering, you’ve managed to slog through a few pages of your Transfiguration textbook. A miracle, honestly.

On your left, Hanni is hyper-focused, her quill flying over parchment as she scribbles notes. On your right, Minji is—wait. She’s doodling tiny frogs in the margins of your notebook.

“Stop ruining her notes,” Hanni snaps, snatching the notebook away with a sharp glare.

Minji looks completely unbothered. “Relax, they’re just frogs. Frogs are cute.”

You let out a tired sigh, dropping your head onto the table. “Can we, I don’t know, focus for five minutes? Please?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Minji straightens up, putting the quill aside. She glances at you and clears her throat. “Alright. Let’s go over the steps again.”

She shifts her chair closer—closer than necessary—and suddenly she’s leaning over the book. Your breath catches as her face ends up mere inches from yours.

Too close.

This is too close.

“Here, This part's simple” she says, her voice soft now. Her gaze flickers to you, and it’s intense in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “Just… visualize the transformation.”

You swallow hard, nodding like your brain hasn’t turned to mush. Her words barely register because all you can think about is the way her hair brushes your arm…

or how her lips curve when she speaks.

Or—what the hell?

Why are you noticing these things?

Why can't you stop staring?

“Got it? “ Minji tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Does she know?

Does she know what she’s doing to you?

“Y-yeah, got it yeah.” Your fingers twitch, desperate for something to ground you. The textbook. Yes, focus on the textbook. Not Minji.

Before you could process what just happened, Hanni abruptly stood, the sharp scrape of her chair against the wooden floor snapping your attention back to the room.

“That’s enough theory,” she said, her voice clipped with irritation she wasn’t bothering to hide. Her smile, directed at Minji, was overly sweet, almost mocking, and didn’t even try to reach her eyes. “Practical application, remember?”

Before you could react, she stepped between you and Minji, positioning herself right in the middle. Her movements were deliberate—her hand gripping your chair as she tugged it closer to hers, the legs dragging noisily against the floor. Minji’s chair, on the other hand, was nudged a few inches away with a not-so-accidental shove.

“There,” Hanni said brightly, flashing Minji another insincere smile before turning her full attention to you. “You'll understand it better if I guide you.” She reasoned

Minji rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. Still, you didn’t miss the way her jaw tightened.

Hanni crouched slightly to meet your eye level, her wand already in hand. Without hesitation, she placed her free hand over yours, adjusting your grip on your own wand. The warmth of her touch was unexpected, her fingers steady as they moved against yours, and for a moment, your brain lagged, struggling to keep up with anything other than the closeness.

You hadn’t even realized you were gripping your wand too tightly.

“Relax, dummy.” she said, her voice softer now, the earlier irritation gone. “You’re holding it too tight—loosen your wrist.”

Relax? How were you supposed to relax when she was this close?

You swallowed hard, opting to nod instead of answering, since your voice would absolutely betray you. She shifted closer, her face only inches from yours as she adjusted your grip. The faint scent of vanilla and old books lingered around her, very distracting and impossible to ignore.

“Do you always feel the need to get this close when you're tutoring people?” Minji scoffs her eyes narrowing as they flicker between you and Hanni.

“What’s your problem?” Hanni stilled for a moment, her hand hovering over yours, before snapping her head around to glare at Minji. “It’s easier for her to learn if I’m close.”

“You’re clearly—”

And just like that, the two were at it again, their voices rising in sharp contrast to the library’s quiet atmosphere.

You exhaled deeply, This wasn’t what you’d signed up for—not the bickering, and certainly not the headache growing behind your temples. Finally, you stood up and grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with more force than necessary.

This was a waste of time.

You didn’t bother looking back as you walked toward the library exit.

Maybe Danielle would be less… messy.

Maybe.

Might make a part 2 idk

[guksfairy]

fogged hearts | JJK

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

wc: 1.1k

notes: mentions of nsfw content, just them being cute, this is more of a filler…mwah I love you I hope you enjoy this!!

MDNI ´-જ⁀➴

The car was silent again, save for you and Jungkook’s gentle pants that were fading slowly as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll never get tired of you,” Jungkook’s hands are placed under your sweater, directly on your skin and on your waist with his thumb soothing your skin as it moves in small motions up and down. They’re soft. They’re home.

His cock was still deep in you but you could care less about that right now. You missed him so bad. So what if you wanted him then and there.

When Jungkook agreed to pick you up from the airport after your trip he had a whole thing planned.

He was to pick you up right outside the plane and hand you the flowers he bought on his way there. Then he’d take you to grab some good Korean food he’s sure you’d missed and drive you back home where you two would cuddle in your bed and watch a movie.

He hadn’t planned to fuck you raw in the back of his car before even leaving the airport. You didn’t care though. It’s a private airline and it’s not like any other cars were parked waiting for the jet anytime soon. You checked. So when Jimin offered you a ride back, you declined his offer with the excuse that your parents had already sent over a driver to pick you up. He left and less than a minute later, Jungkook had pulled up and walked out of his car, holding a bouquet of flowers looking as hot as ever.

Maybe it’s because you hadn’t seen him in a week or because his hair was just slightly messy but you wanted him so bad.

So you made that very clear to him when you both walked over to his car and instead of getting in the front seat like you usually do, you got in the back seat. Jungkook was confused for a moment until you threw your black lace panties, you removed from under your skirt, right onto his lap. Without hesitation, he gave you what you wanted.

“I missed you,” you reply with your flushed cheek against his clothed chest.

“Really? I would have never guessed that,” Jungkook’s playful reply earns a chuckle from you. You couldn’t help it. Even while you were on vacation with your friends, you made sure to always text or call Jungkook to update him of your activities.

“I’m serious though. I kept seeing couples everywhere and wishing you were there. I love my friends but you and I should get away too,” you had been thinking about it for a while. Your father had just given you your monthly allowance that you always mention is more than enough.

Maybe you could book a nice getaway with Jungkook. It was long overdue anyways.

“We should. I have a couple places I want to take you to,” at this you carefully sit up and stare at him. Your fingers running through his damp hair as you look at him with a smile growing.

“Yeah?”

“I have a list on my notes app,” he replies and your eyebrows raise.

“You’re kidding,” genuinely in awe because usually you’re the one who plans the places to visit when you two have a day off together.

“No, you can check baby,” he reaches for his phone that’s laid next to your purse on the center console and hands it to you.

You unlock his phone and open his notes app and sure enough, a the very top with the most recent edit, is a list titled, Date Ideas ❤️

“Koo~” you drag out his name as you scroll through his list, all with addresses right next to them.

There’s a couple restaurants listed along with cafes he thinks you’d enjoy the theme of. Some are places where you can make stuff together like ceramic dishes or matching phone cases.

The list goes on for a while and you feel like you’re never going to reach the end of it. Your mouth is slightly agape and Jungkook is starring at your reaction with a smug expression.

What can he say? He’s a good boyfriend.

“Koo why haven’t you mentioned this?” You put his phone down and wait for a response, “Because you almost always have a place in mind when I pick you up,” he replies and you nod. You’re always finding cute places on TikTok and Instagram and want to share them with Jungkook.

You’ve never had to struggle with the whole ‘where do you wanna go?’ or ‘where do you want to eat?’

“Okay well next time we’re checking something off your list,” you say and he jolts gently making you gasp. “Sorry baby I know you’re still sensitive but hand me my phone,” he says and you grab it again and hand it to him.

“What are you doing?” You ask and he tilts his phone so you could see his actions.

He unlocks his phone and scrolls through the list until he finds the one he’s looking for and ticks it off.

▣ fuck my love in a semi-public space

“That’s a date?” You laugh and he smiles back at you, “For me it is,”

For a moment you both stay silent and you take the opportunity to draw a heart in the fogged window. He reaches over and draws both of your initials in the middle. You take his phone again and take a picture of it before sending it to yourself. You’re not sure where your phone is. The second you landed, all you could think about was Jungkook.

“New lockscreen,” you mumble and he kisses the top of your head, “We got to get going baby,” he says and you want to whine but he stops you, “Round two at your place?” and your excitement is once again through the roof.

With gentle movements, you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s cock and land on your sweater he laid for you. He removes his sweater and uses it to clean the both of you, being very careful with you.

Shortly after you make your way to the front seat and so does Jungkook. He plugs his phone in and plays your playlist you made on his Spotify account.

The ride home is nice and quiet with the music playing throughout the vehicle and you couldn’t be happier to be back home to Jungkook.

[sugarplumkneecaps]

Memories (Shadow x Reader)

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader (gender neutral) → Can be read as platonic or romantic Word Count: 3.4k T/W: loss, mentions of death (previous to story) Summary: It's New Year's Eve and life has been quite peaceful for the last few months following Dr. Eggman's defeat (again). You work up the courage to invite Shadow over, but he seems to be a bit distracted...

SQUEEE- the marker squealed as another day was crossed off the paper calendar hung on the wall in the hallway. The end of the year had come much sooner than Shadow expected. It felt as though most of his days blurred together, the mundane routine turning his concept of time on its head. At one point in his life, he had longed for the same sense of normalcy that Rouge had mentioned long ago. But this? This was torturous. He replaced the cap of the pen and hung it back up with the calendar before moving into the kitchen of his apartment with a great deal of reluctance. He had yet to go grocery shopping, making his usual routine of finding breakfast somewhat more adventurous than he had the energy for this morning.

Rouge had urged for him to rent the apartment and get his current job following their efforts to put a stop to Robotnik’s world ending plans. “I think you are long overdue for a taste of normal life Shadow,” Rouge had cooed at him.

He scoffed at the memory, taking in the view of his living space as he exited the kitchen with a sad bagel topped with cream cheese (making a mental note to stop by the corner store to grab something to fill him up a bit). His apartment wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything grand either. His living room could fit a single, plush couch across from a TV, record player, and his plant. The walls were lined with records that were regularly rotated out every week. He had direct access to his small breakfast nook and kitchen due to the open layout, which he enjoyed. It allowed for him to sit and enjoy his music as he ate or cooked. The hallway led to his room, office, and bathroom, all neat and tidy in their own respective manners. It was comfortable for him, mostly due to never expecting any real company over.

The size of it also meant that rent was cheap, which was good as all of his paycheck from the cafe only had to go towards every day living expenses (at the behest of a certain bat, once again, advising him to save his payout from their more intensive work). Shadow couldn’t deny the merit of her words; the higher paying work had slowed down significantly. Preventing world domination for the upteenth time seemed to discourage others from another attempt too soon.

Shadow finished his breakfast and headed toward the front door, slipping on his shoes before starting his commute to work which was only a short walk from his place. He let out a long sigh as he locked the front door behind him, nearly running into you as he turned toward the stairwell.

“Oh! Uh- Sorry, Shadow. I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered, embarrassment dripping from each word. You had been neighbors for a few months now, excited and yet intimidated by the proximity you had with him. It was simply chance that you two had even met in the first place, what with Infinite sparing you and the events that followed; you had somehow become an integral part of Sonic and his cohorts’ plan to bring Dr. Eggman to a halt. But the fact that Shadow not only worked with you at the local cafe but had also moved in next door to you so soon after felt too good to be true.

“All good. See you at work,” his voice somewhat hushed and low before he continued on his way. Burying his hands in his pockets, his steps covered an impressive distance in only a few minutes, Shadow’s mind wandering. He had also taken note of you - your impressive feats to aid them in their world saving efforts all the way down to your also somewhat mundane ritualistic activities. You both worked behind the counter at the cafe; him focusing more on brewing orders while you handled customers. He was always curious how you managed it with a smile on your face most days; the idea of switching spots with you was enough to make him shudder, shaking his head in effort to rid himself of the idea.

“Oh Shadow, people aren’t all bad!” Maria’s voice echoed. Shadow stopped dead in his tracks, the sudden flashback startling him. Why would he remember that now, of all times and places?

You weren’t too far behind Shadow, but you swore he glided to work effortlessly even without his air shoes. It wasn’t until he paused that you were able to catch up with him, letting out a small chuckle as you bumped shoulders with him lightly. This seemed to pull him out of his daze.

“C’mon, spacey, we don’t want to be late. I still owe you a breakfast sandwich for yesterday!”

“Wait- what? What are you talking about?”

You turned to look at the dark hedgehog, a smile creeping on your lips, “you saved me from that older gentleman, remember? He was making all sorts of comments-“

Shadow let out a “tch-“ sound before furrowing his eyebrows further, “Oh. You don’t owe me anything for that. You seemed uncomfortable.” His pace picked up a bit, causing you to need to start into a light jog to keep pace with him.

“I mean- yeah. He was being a bit creepy.” You huffed out a breath, once again embarrassed only this time by how winded keeping up with Shadow made you. “Hey, could you slow down a bit? We aren’t running that late or anything.”

Shadow eyed you from the side, smirking slightly before slowing his pace, “well, lucky for you, we’re here.” He motioned toward the building in front of you both, windows lining the outside to reveal the dark seating area of the cafe. You let out an exaggerated huff in an effort to make light of your winded state before digging in your bag for the keys to the front door. After wrestling with the key for a moment, you were able to unlock the building and begin setting up to open.

“Hey Shadow, I’ve been meaning to ask, how do you like your coffee?”

Shadow paused for a moment while he removed the chairs from atop their respective tables, pushing them in and moving on to the next methodically, “black, which I’m sure you probably could’ve guessed.”

“Ah- right. My bad. That does seem too fitting to not be obvious, huh?” you laughed shyly, starting the brew and selecting a breakfast sandwich to heat up for your counterpart. Man, you’re really going 3 for 3 this morning, huh? Your head hung low before rolling your shoulders back. This is your last chance to invite him, don’t screw it up!

The oven chimed as an indicator that Shadow’s sandwich was done, encouraging you to work up a bit of courage to not only present the seemingly unnecessary gesture but to also address him. You plated the sandwich and placed it on the table Shadow had just cleared off.

“Your breakfast, my good sir!” you bowed dramatically, getting a strained chuckle in response from Shadow. Clearing your throat, you figured now was as good a time as any, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Shadow sat in the chair in front of the sandwich, thankful that he wouldn’t have to resort to the corner store option, “hmm?”

You waited a moment to see if his gaze would meet yours, only to realize after a few bites in that your gesture maybe wasn’t as unwanted as he made it seem. “Well, see, I am going to be having a few people over later tonight to celebrate New Years. Rouge, Silver, maybe a few others, and uhm-“ you gulped, your mouth dry as your original, short invitation started to take a turn for the worse. “And... you? If you’d like to come?” Your ears drooped a tiny bit, your body subconsciously preparing for the inevitable rejection you were sure you would face.

Much to your surprise though, Shadow paused his chewing to look at you, “Yeah. I could stop by.” He continued to eat, completely unfazed by your shock at his response.

“Really?? That’s great! I mean- that’s, uhm, yeah! The party starts at 8PM!”

Shadow said nothing, which you took in stride, practically twirling as you went to grab him a coffee.

The work day somehow dragged on and yet also was over before either of you knew it. Shadow was appreciative of the routine of brewing the coffee, cleaning the machine, collecting dishware, and starting over as it allowed him to shut his brain off. It seemed to be determined to pull the rug out from under him today considering his flashback earlier. Memories of Maria weren’t unwelcome by any means, but Shadow recognized his emotional responses to them weren’t necessarily appropriate at work. He could have contemplated the reason behind their resurgence, but he simply chalked it up to his recent living situation changes, unwilling to dig deeper than that. Although, he might not have been too far off.

Rouge wasn’t the only one Shadow had heard speak of normalcy longingly; Maria’s illness was better managed whilst in the care of her grandfather, but that didn’t mean she got to experience much of a normal childhood as other kids her age did. She was at the mercy of her grandfather’s schedule and her small living quarters. “I know it seems silly,” she would say softly, “but sometimes I miss going to school. I miss riding the bus. I miss running through flower fields and my parents yelling for me when the street lights came on.” These concepts had meant very little to Shadow at the time, but as life had settled around him, he couldn’t help but wish he could show Maria that he was trying to live each day with her in mind.

The New Year creeping up on him was maybe too much of a reminder that he hadn’t done that great of a job to really appreciate the peace he had recently found. All he could hope for is that the party tonight would not be something he would regret agreeing to. I’ll make a promise to Maria that I will do better in the coming year.

You stared at your reflection for far too long. Clothes were strewn about your bed, all rejected options for tonight’s celebration. “You don’t need to overdo it!” you said to yourself, gripping the jeans in your hands. “Just wear the stupid jeans and find a comfy sweater. This isn’t meant to be some crazy thing.”

A knock on your door indicated that you didn’t have time to continue to bemoan over your lackluster wardrobe any longer. Throwing on the clothes in hand and quickly fluffing your hair, you made your way to the front door to greet your first guest. To your surprise, Shadow greeted you with a bottle of champaign.

“Hope this is okay,” he said, looking you over subtly. He was dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a turtleneck sweater, and a nice blazer. You could feel the dread set in once again before mentally shaking yourself out of it, “yes! This is fine! Thank you, you really didn’t have to bring anything.” You welcomed him inside and placed the champaign on the kitchen counter before turning to pull refreshments from the pantry and fridge.

Shadow stood next to the door as he watched you move about your apartment, removing his blazer and placing it in the crook of his arm. Your own apartment wasn’t much different than his, the layout the same, but flipped. It seemed much more suitable to host guests than his own, he noted, as he moved across the living room to where you were at in the kitchen. He hung his blazer along the back of one of the dining room chairs before holding his hands out to you. By this point, you were struggling to move the punch bowl, having filled it prematurely and realizing you would have to move the full thing to its proper place. Shadow’s outstretched arms took you by surprise but you did not refuse the help. You gingerly placed the bowl into Shadow’s arms, “thanks- uhm, you can set it on the bar counter next to the cups.”

He nodded and placed the bowl with ease, something you were quite jealous of. His otherworldly strength was quite useful while you two worked together, as he did a majority of the heavy lifting when food shipments arrived. Of course the simple task of moving the punch bowl would be easy for him. You laughed at yourself quietly at the thought and quickly turned away to continue setup.

It did not take long for the other fantastic mobians to join you both, the space of your apartment quickly filling with sounds of chatter and laughter. As the festivities kicked off, you began to notice that Shadow wasn’t really interacting with anyone (except for Rouge every now and again when she would seek him out). You had made a mental note to check in with him, but were quickly swept away to host.

You had never quite pulled something like this off, and the constant interaction was quickly draining your own social battery. Chaos, if I’m feeling this way I can only imagine how Shadow is doing. The thought prompted a quick scan of the apartment, but Shadow was nowhere to be seen. Your brows creased with concern, hoping he hadn’t left without saying anything. However, your search would need to wait as you felt an intense need to step outside for a bit of fresh air. You checked in with Tails, asking for him to keep an eye on things while you stepped out, to which he smiled at you and told you not to worry.

One of your favorite parts about this apartment was access to a private balcony. It wasn’t anything impressive but it made for a nice getaway when you needed it. You pulled on the door, struggling as it stuck to the doorway before prying it open and prompting Shadow to turn around to face you.

“Oh- sorry! I didn’t mean to, uhm-“ you gulped, startled by his presence. Why was talking to him always so nerve-wracking? “I just needed some fresh air.”

You watched as Shadow shifted over to allow some space to join him, “be my guest.”

Struggling again to close the door behind you, you moved next to him to rest your arms on the railing. Your eyes gravitated toward the sky, catching sporadic flashes of light from fireworks far off in the distance. The cool night air was a refreshing contrast from the sudden stuffiness in your small apartment and almost immediately your body relaxed. It was only at that point that you were able to take a deep breath and really released the subconscious tension you held in your shoulders since everyone arrived.

“Quite the turnout, huh?” you offered, shifting your gaze to Shadow.

He stood unmoving, his eyes now fixated on the sky above him. The stars lit up their dark backdrop, competing only with the bursts of fireworks every now and again. Shadow hadn’t seen the night sky like this in what felt like a lifetime. He had his own balcony but rarely ever used it, having forgotten it was there for the most part. In his solitude, he had very little reason to occupy the space.

The silence between you two and his unbroken focus on the sky brought you to look up again. This moment was not unwelcome nor awkward like you feared it might be. You felt a wave of comfort wash over you as you listened to the muffled sounds of your friends indoors alongside the chirping of crickets and popping of fireworks.

Shadow finally acknowledged his lack of a response to you, shifting slightly and clearing his throat, “I wonder if Maria had gotten to experience a New Years like this.” Taken aback by this vulnerability, you turned to Shadow again.

Maria. That was a familiar name in regards to the dark hedgehog. You knew she was the only friend he had before he was captured by GUN, having suffered a horrendous fate at the organization’s hand. You contemplated if she was the reason for his more prominent standoffish behavior tonight.

“This place reminds you of her, doesn’t it?” The words came out as hardly anything more than whisper, your effort to come across as tender shining through.

You watched as Shadow winced, moving his hands to interlock his fingers. “Not just this place.” He took a deep breath, as if calculating how much he wanted to divulge to you. “Everything and everywhere does...”

His voice was low and barely audible in comparison to the world around you. Shadow had been carrying the weight of Maria’s death with him through life, a feeling you could only imagine. His ears drooped slightly as his gaze shifted downward to his hands. He studied their shape, taking note of his inhibitor rings and the creases along his fingers, trying to remember what Maria’s felt like. With another small breath, he continued, “memories of her are in everything.”

To say you were stunned would be the understatement of the century. You took in the scene of Shadow, arms resting on the railing in front of him, the fingers of one of his hands tracing the other, his demeanor sad and sincere. You placed your hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes lifted to meet your own, his gaze years away as tears pooled and fell along his cheek. You smiled at him, pulling him gently toward you.

He hesitated at first before accepting your embrace. You held each other there for a moment, searching for the right words to say in response to his. Everything seemed to come up short, in your mind, sounding way too cheesy and cliche to truly convey your desire to comfort Shadow. Against your better judgment, you pulled away to look at him.

“I think... that’s how you help keep their memory alive. You carry them with you in some capacity. You associate certain things in life to them, and you cherish those things more than you would have otherwise.”

You paused, searching his expression in an effort to ensure you weren’t overstepping. He stared back at you, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen, his expression softer than you had seen before.

“Maybe it also helps us live life to the fullest and not take things for granted.”

He nodded slowly, your words sinking in as he stepped out of your arms to look at the sky again.

“She would have wanted me to enjoy life,” he said thoughtfully. Shadow took a deep breath before looking at you once again, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Thank you.”

You returned his smile in kind, imprinting this moment to memory for you to cherish always. After a brief pause, you offered your hand to him, “what do you say we go back in?”

He looked down at your hand and nodded, wiping the tears from his face and giving the night sky another glance. Shadow would have to remember to spruce up his own balcony to enjoy the stars.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you started to head back inside; the backdoor being of no issue for Shadow (of course) to pull open and close shut with ease. He let go of your hand after giving it a light squeeze and moved through the group to find Rouge of his own accord, smiling back at you. Sonic approached you, taking note of the interaction, “wow, never thought that guy could actually smile! You sure we don’t have a SUPER faker among us?”

Your elbow jabbed into Sonic’s arm playfully as you laughed and shook your head.

As midnight approached, you all gathered around the TV in the living room and counted down the New Year. Shadow closed his eyes, allowing Rouge to shake him as she joined the others in celebrating. His eyes opened and rested their gaze on you, watching as you cheered alongside everyone. It was then that he decided; he was going to make sure he did everything he could to appreciate his newfound friends and peaceful existence, just the way he hoped Maria would have wanted him to.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Why hello my lovely friend!! 😍 I'm so ready to dive into your thoughts on this chapter. 💜💜

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Yesss I love those kinds of scenes too! (Clearly lol) I'm so glad you agree. 😏

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

The close quarters are a blessing and a curse here, isn't it? 😅 Thank you for that compliment!! I wanted the buildup here to be about the small moments of connection. 💗

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

Ughhhhh you just wanna throttle him!! loll Meanwhile, she's wasting absolutely no time to learn all the can about this man, because with him it's like trying to pry open an old clam. 🤣🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

Aww thank you!! It honestly made me emotional (and sympathize so much more with Jhhn) just reading the journal, so I just tried to infuse as much of my own reading experience in the reader character. I'm so glad it made you feel more connected to her. 💞

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

Girl when I read that part of the journal, the way I was like:

(And YES, spray that man like a bad dog!!)

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!! Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

Girl you took me OUTttt. 🤣🤣🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

Yeeeeep, honestly reminds me of If The Stars Wish It So, when the reader has that moment of "is it me? Why doesn't he want me?" But in reality, Dean's fighting his instincts to be with her tooth and nail. 🥲🥲

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

LOLL you know what, initially I was going to go the Wendigo route for this climactic moment, but it felt more surprising to me to have it be a non-supernatural threat, just a typical bear wandering through his territory. 😂

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

Thank you!!! I thought this window into his head was needed, but also, Alpha Dean is just so....ALPHA. 🫠🫠🫠

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

He finally broke down a bit, seeing how much he was affecting her! 😭 I'm so glad you enjoyed that. I tried my best to make it feel like a natural progression. I so hope you enjoy the next chapter, my friend! 🥰💕

Against the Wind - Part 2

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

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

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

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

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, bickering, mention of toxic relationship, aftermath of a toxic relationship, arguments, tension

I step carefully through the wreckage of my apartment, trying to see what’s salvageable so I could have a few things to live out of, staying with the triplets. Most of my things are either smashed, torn, or covered in a fine layer of dirt and glass shards. Ethan didn’t just take his belongings, he left destruction in his wake.

I sigh, kneeling down to inspect what’s left. A lot of it can be replaced, I tell myself. Furniture, dishes, even the picture frames, it’s all just stuff. But as I rummage through the mess, a sinking feeling sets in. Something’s missing.

My heart races as I scan the countertop near the bathroom. I dig through drawers, lift pillows off the bed, and even check the edge of the shower where I remember setting it.

“My locket..” I whisper.

The small, gold locket my grandfather gave me before he passed. Engraved with his writing, something I felt always brought me good luck. I only take it off to shower, but this morning, in the rush of everything, I forgot to put it back on after. Now, it’s gone.

I stand still, gripping the edge of the sink. Of all the things Ethan could have taken or destroyed, why this? I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, but the loss feels heavier than the rest of the chaos combined.

“Y/n?” Nick’s voice snaps me back to reality.

“I’m almost done” I call back, my voice cracking slightly.

“We’ll wait in the car, take your time.” Nick says, as the three of them leave my apartment.

I grab my suitcase, throwing in whatever clothes and keepsakes I can save. My heart aches as I step over broken memories, knowing I’ll never feel at home here again.

As I walk out of the apartment, I take one last glance at the space that used to be mine. Now it’s just a reminder of what I’ve lost, and what I need to leave behind.

Outside, I see the triplets waiting in Chris’s car. Chris is leaning against the driver’s door, scrolling on his phone. Matt is in the passenger seat, looking like he couldn’t care less about the situation. Nick spots me and jogs over, taking the suitcase from my hand without saying a word.

“You okay?” Nick asks softly.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Chris looks up as Nick loads my suitcase into the trunk. “You sure you’ve got everything?”

“Yeah..” I reply, forcing a weak smile, wanting to grab the empty space on my chest where my locket would’ve lay, knowing the one thing I promised to never lose, is now gone.

Matt lets out an exaggerated sigh as I climb into the backseat. “Thank god, I’m still starving.”

The drive to their house is tense. Chris hums along to the radio, Nick tries to lighten the mood by cracking a few jokes, and Matt stays silent, occasionally scrolling on his phone. I stare out the window, trying to focus on anything but the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But for now, I had no choice but to figure out how to move forward.

We pull into the garage of the triplets’ house, a place I’ve been to more times than I can count. Between my friendship with Nick and working with Chris, this house isn’t unfamiliar territory. The three story house is a place full of energy, chaos, and, right now, tension.

Chris parks the car, and I step out, clutching my suitcase in one hand. Nick is already out of the car and at the door, holding it open for me like the good friend he is, while Matt trails behind us, dragging his feet like he’s walking to his own execution.

“You know where everything is” Nick says as he ushers me inside.

I step inside, suitcase in hand, the stairs creaking slightly as I lug my suitcase up to the main living area. Chris floated off into his bedroom on the way in, and Matt made comfort for himself on the couch. From there, I follow Nick up the next flight to the top level of the house. My new “room” is just outside Nick’s.

The podcast room, or what used to be the podcast room, is a tiny square area tucked at the end of the top of the stairs. The artificial walls are still standing, flimsy and paper thin, painted in mismatched shades of white, pink, and turquoise. It’s like stepping into a DIY project someone abandoned halfway through. The floor is covered in black and white checkered lino, glaringly out of place against the rest of the house.

“It’s not the Ritz” Nick says, scratching the back of his neck, “but we can make it work. I’ll help you get set up.”

“No it’s fine, I appreciate it” I reply, offering a small smile. “You’re saving my ass right now.”

I drop my suitcase on the floor and glance around. The space is.. A space. Let’s go with that. It doesn’t have a door, just an open entrance directly leading to the stairs, and Nick’s bedroom door opposite me, but I can’t exactly complain. I knew this was a temporary solution.

Nick gestures to the far corner. “We can fit a bed over there, maybe a little shelf or something for your stuff. I’ll start looking for furniture now.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

He grins. “What are best friends for?”

I glance at the walls, noticing faint pencil marks where posters and soundproofing foam used to be. The room is oddly quiet, considering how thin walls are, I know on a day to day basis they aren’t much of a barrier, but they’ll give me some semblance of privacy.

I roll my suitcase over to the corner and I unzip it, beginning to pull out my toiletries, placing them on the floor beside me as I try to figure out the best way to organize everything. Toothbrush, toothpaste, skincare stuff, my shampoo and conditioner.

“Uh, Nick?” I call out, glancing over my shoulder at him. “I’m not really sure where to put my toiletries. Using your bathroom would mean I’d be going in and out of your room all the time, and that could get pretty inconvenient.. especially if you’re asleep or something.”

Nick tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that might get a little awkward. You could always use Matt’s bathroom, I mean it’s not in his room, and everyone uses it anyway.”

I freeze for a second, side eyeing Nick. “Matt’s bathroom?”

“Yeah” Nick says, as if it’s the simplest solution in the world. “It’s easier, and you won’t have to tiptoe around me.”

I glance down at the stairs knowing Matt’s down there, already dreading how this conversation is going to go. As if on cue, Matt’s voice echoes from somewhere below. “Wait what?”

Nick leans over the railing. “I said Y/n could use your bathroom since it’s easier. It’s not a big deal.”

Matt appears at the bottom of the stairs, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Why does it have to be my bathroom? You’ve got one. Chris has one.”

“Because it’s not in anyone’s bedroom” Nick explains to him. “And it’s right down the stairs.”

Matt runs a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed.

I sigh, standing at the top of the stairs, crossing my arms. “Look, I’ll keep my stuff out of the way, and I won’t use it when you’re in there. It’s not like I’m going to live in your bathroom.”

Matt narrows his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Feels like it.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. It’s not like she’s going to redecorate your shower.”

I shoot Matt a pointed look. “Believe me, this is just as awkward for me as it is for you. But I’m not exactly drowning in options right now.”

Matt throws his hands up. “Fine. But if my stuff goes missing or gets moved, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “You’ll survive, Matt. Trust me.”

Matt mutters something under his breath before heading back to sit on the couch. I turn to Nick, who just shrugs with a lopsided smile.

“Don’t worry about him” Nick says. “He’ll get over it. Eventually.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, let’s hope that happens sooner rather than later.”

Deciding that keeping my toiletries in my little makeshift room for now is the safest bet, I arrange them neatly in the corner. I’ll just grab what I need when I need it and take them down to Matt’s bathroom individually. No reason to make this situation worse, or give Matt another excuse to complain.

Nick, still leaning against the doorframe of his own room, looks up from his phone. “I just checked some spots online for a bed. Macy’s has a decent one we can go pick up today.”

Matt, who’s clearly eavesdropping from the couch below, calls out, “I’m not driving. Ask Chris.”

“You’re so helpful, Matt. Seriously.” Nick yells down the stairs.

I sigh, standing up. “It’s fine, I’ll go ask Chris.”

Leaving Nick and Matt to bicker, I head down the stairs to the bottom floor of the house where Chris’s room is. His door is slightly ajar, so I knock lightly. “Chris?”

No response. I push the door open a little more, peeking inside. Chris is sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep, with one arm draped over his eyes. His phone is charging on the nightstand, and a half empty bottle of pepsi sits next to it.

For a moment, I debated whether I should wake him up. I decided against it since I’ve just moved into the place, the last thing I want to do is make demands or step on anyone's toes. 

I turn on my heel to walk back up the stairs, Nick and Matt still bickering in the distance, I hesitate at the bottom, my hand gripping the banister tightly as I hear Matt's voice. His tone is sharp, laced with irritation.

“I just don’t get why she has to live here” he hisses, clearly unaware that I’m within earshot. “Like, does she not have any other friends?”

My stomach twists at his words, and my steps slow, barely making a sound.

“She does, Matt.” Nick retorts, his voice firm. “But she’s also my best friend, and I’m sure Chris would consider her one of his too. This will also make things easier for them both for work purposes. Like you’re the only one with an issue here.”

I stay frozen in place, torn between storming up there and pretending I didn’t hear a thing.

“Yeah” Matt scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “and I bet Chris only gave her the job because he wants to smash.”

His comment lands like a punch to the gut, my heart sinking. I stand there, gripping the railing, trying to push away the sting of his words.

Nick lets out a frustrated sigh. “Seriously, Matt? That’s low, even for you. Chris gave her the job because she’s good at it, and you know it. Maybe if you actually got to know her instead of acting like an ass all the time, you’d see that too.”

There’s a brief silence, and I think about heading back to Chris’s room to avoid hearing any more, but my feet feel glued to the spot.

Matt’s voice cuts through the pause. “Whatever, man. Just don’t expect me to be all buddy buddy with her. She’s your friend, not mine.”

I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. I’ve always known Matt and I didn’t get along, but hearing him talk about me like that feels different.

Determined not to let them see how much it affected me, I make my way up the stairs, forcing my steps to sound casual. As I approach, Nick glances over his shoulder at me, his expression softening into something apologetic. Matt doesn’t even look my way, his jaw set and his arms crossed.

“Chris is asleep” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I didn’t want to wake him.”

Nick sighs, pushing himself up from where he was leaning against the wall. “Alright, guess that leaves us with Plan B.”

Matt immediately looks skeptical. “What’s Plan B?”

“You.” Nick says as if that was a stupid thing to ask.

Matt groans, his head tipping back dramatically. “Are you serious? Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re here, you have a car, and Chris is asleep” Nick counters, folding his arms. “Stop being difficult and help.”

Matt looks between the two of us, his jaw tightening. “Fine” he finally says, his tone clipped. “But if I’m driving, you both owe me food, since I never got it earlier..”

Nick smirks. “Deal.”

“And I’m not spending hours out here either, I’ve places to be later.” Matt says firmly, as he grabs his keys.

Nick, already halfway down the stairs, doesn’t even look back. "Relax, Matt. Looking for bedding isn’t going to make you miss your date later."

I glance at Matt, who scowls, his expression hardening even further. "Good. Because I’m not ditching plans to play chauffeur."

“Yeah, yeah, we get it” Nick says with a dismissive wave as we step outside toward the car.

I follow behind, trying to suppress my irritation at Matt’s attitude, silently wishing this entire situation didn’t feel so awkward, and I didn’t overhear that conversation.

As we climb in to the car, I silently promise myself I’ll try to stay out of Matt’s way as much as possible. If only it were that easy.

a/n: my sleep pattern is FUCKED so parts might be all over the place

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[freezebobs]

DBFZ Yamcha and Ten cookies...done!!!

Soo I've been on a mission to recreate the Yamcha and Ten cookies from dragon ball fighterz because they're adorable...and they're finally real!! :'D process and info below! (kind of long lol)

I saw someone share these screencaps from the game a while ago and as someone who never played DBFZ I was so charmed at how cute these things are. I wondered if anyone had ever made cookie cutters for them, did a quick search and didn't really find anything, so just kind of moved on.

A few months later I remembered them again and was like, man, I really would love to see these brought to life lol. And I searched again and actually found someone who made them!!... But they weren't selling them anymore. 😭💔

^Reddit post from user ShadowLord898.

So in the next few days I went into the DBFZ game files, figured out how to navigate them and locate/open the proprietary file types (took...a lot of googling), and eventually found the cookie textures!!! Which I then painstakingly traced over to create vectors.

I thought once I had the vectors, it would be easy to drop them into a 3D program and extrude them to make the cookie cutters. BOY WAS I WRONG!!! It's probably just my inexperience working with vectors in 3D programs, but I tried Blender, Fusion 360, and Tinkercad and had problems in each one before finally figuring out the right approach. (I really almost gave up 🤧 but I hadn't realized that your geometry/topology don't need to be perfect when 3D modeling for print as opposed to, like, something you plan to create a texture for.)

Tinkercad and its extremely user friendly interface, plus SVG import functionality, saved me.

Oh then I realized I forgot to reverse the design, which you have to do for a cookie cutter because of how they work. I thought I would need to flip all the vectors and re-import them, recreate the models... but thankfully there's a "flip" button in Tinkercad. Fixed.

I sent the files over to my friend @.theprocrastinatingengineer on Instagram, who has a 3D printing service, and he was able to print them out for me!

While I was waiting for them to ship I downloaded Cura ("slicer" program for preparing 3D files for print) just for fun. (I was really eager...)

And here's when I finally got them!!!

Despite choosing all the dimensions carefully, I was still surprised how dainty they were when I actually held them in my hand. I wasn't sure if they would work...

So I made the dough and everything, used some 5mm thick chopsticks as guides to roll out the dough to the thickness I wanted. I put plastic wrap over the dough to prevent the cutters from directly touching the dough due to food safety concerns. Here is my first attempt to use them:

After this my mindset quickly shifted from caring about food safety to "what's a little more plastic in my system?" / "I'm here for a good time, not a long time!!" / "welll the dough gets baked anyway so that kills the germs it should be fiiine" **I Do Not recommend others to be so careless... also important note: I was the only one eating these so I didn't have to worry about others' safety 🥴

^The difference between using the cutters with and without the plastic wrap.

This first rolling out of the dough was actually a little too thick; in my design I hadn't accounted for the way the dough squishes up when you press the cutter into it. There wasn't enough vertical space at all, and the dough kept getting stuck in the cutter. It was a bad time!!! (didn't get a lot of photos of the failures here because my hands were covered in flour)

After lots of broken cookie cutouts, re-flouring the surface/cutters/rolling pin, and re-rolling the dough to be a bit thinner, I managed to get these out. I had to support Ten's head like a newborn when moving the dough onto the cookie sheet because the connection to the body was so delicate 😢

AND HERE THEY ARE...fully baked and ready 🥹

For the most part I was going to leave them undecorated like how they are in the game. But @.lamichicuenta made this really cute drawing of the cookies where Yamcha had chocolate decorations and Ten was a salty cracker, and I really wanted to try decorating some to resemble those!! Here are the photos of both versions of the cookies the next day once I was able to get some natural light for nicer pics.

(I meant to poke some holes in Ten's cookie to look more like a cracker but I forgot about it until they were already baking.)

They tasted fine...yamcha was better thanks to the chocolate. 🤭

If you read all this, thank you for following my cookie cutter journey... 😌🙏💖

Oh yeah and I made the vectors, 3D print files, and specs/info all available in a google drive folder here for anyone to use if they want! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1hQ7uq3leYPK64pGgt3LhFw-70IZnkYzh?usp=drive_link

OH and one last thing, i ended up revising the 3D models to hopefully fix the issue of not enough vertical space. ...turns out I hit the maximum for photos and videos in this post, but you can see it on my twitter here! https://twitter.com/freezebobs/status/1875720926840680678

I didn't get to try these revised models, but they are the ones I put in the drive folder. 😊👍

[cotton-fae24]

Hello everybody! Surprised to see me post something not Seabird related? Well sometimes drawing the same things over and over again gets a little tiring, so to clear my head (and to remind myself to draw legs once in while) I’d tried to draw other owl house stuff. During this break times I’d actually end up drawing other owl house creators Au’s, and I decided to clean up these drawings together and compile them into one big illustration. Think of this post as a sorta tribute to creators that inspire me. And don’t worry, Seabird part 3 will still come out Monday.

First up, the Monster high AU by @dazeddoodles

As the title suggests, it’s an AU that combines the G1 Monster high with the Owl house series. I was a huge Monster High fan when I was younger, so this AU was a real treat. I’m really sad they decided to discontinue it, as I think this AU is really cute. I love the designs too, Raine is my favorite. I kinda just wanted to draw some cute interactions, a young Eda and Raine interacting, Gus and Willow giving Hunter “a hand’ and Amity flirting with Luz (in her own way). Drawing this AU was a lot of fun and did inspire me to rewatch some of the old Monster high specials.

Pittwins AU by @nikolutke

This AU is much darker. The idea of the story is what if Hunter and Luz weren’t resurrected at the end of the series and wandered around the Boiling Isles as ghosts. I love Nikolutke designs for Ghost Luz and Hunter, they’re both haunting and really sad. Plus the idea exploring the Owl house characters reactions towards the death of a love one is really fascinating concept. I kinda explored that idea with these drawings, in this case Eda and Darius reactions. I feel like Eda would be out of her mind with grief, as she was forced to watch Luz’s death first hand. I think she’d feel a lot of guilt too, thinking she failed to protect Luz. I also wonder if Kings Titans powers allows him to see the dead, could be possible. As for the other illustration, I think Darius would probably isolated himself and grieve quietly, contemplating what he could of done differently, and if he could have saved Hunter in time.

The Gilded Cage by @catboymoments

I’ve been fan of both their next gen au and this one, but I decided to post one about the Gilded age au. The basic idea of this AU is the classic “What if Belos found Luz instead of Eda” concept. A lot of these AUs tend to go the route of “Luz becomes Belos 2.0” as someone who loves Luz, I’m sad people just think she’d just instantly become a villain if left unguided. I’m really that this AU went into a different direction and actual kept Luz’s personality and made Luz someone who’s trying to help the Isles and wants to protect her friends from Belos wrath. The one on the left is Lilith and Luz interacting, I like to think Lilith sees a lot of Eda in Luz, and makes her think of the good times before everything got complicated. The one on the right is Luz and Hunter, with the former trying to convince the latter to question Belos control. I love in this AU that despite Belos attempts to put the, against each other, they still have each others back no matter what! Their siblings no matter what universe they’re in!

And of course the classic (pun intended) The Mythology AU by @turquoisespace35

This AU is Huntlow story set in Greek mythology. Hunter in this AU is the half human-gorgon offspring of the human Caleb and gorgon Evelyn. Willow is sent to his location to kill him but (of course) they fall in love instead. The story has a lot of twists and turns, so I suggest you check it out if you haven’t already. The left drawing is Caleb and Evelyn interacting together. I don’t know if this work but I like to think the two were able to somewhat interact with each other by Caleb looking through mirror. I of course had to draw the love birds Hunter and Willow interacting together. The one on the top right is a little bit of a spoiler but I decided to draw Lilith and Edalyns in their goddess forms, I love that Lilith plays the role of Athena and acts a caretaker to Hunter. I drew her getting a little emotional about Hunter finally being free, as any cool Aunt should.

And to those who are just hear to see the Seabird AU, here’s a preview drawing of part 3 of chapter 10. I don’t think Edas really enjoying this part though lol.

Anyway, hope you guys this more unusual post, I just wanted to draw something a little different this time and pay tribute to some of the artists that have inspired me.

[mythoughts-consumeme]

Here's more headcanons for everyone to sob over.

Donnie as being 'the troubled kid' at school because of his adhd and dyscalculia, always getting in trouble with the teachers, and how that would have strained his and Frankie's relationship when they were like teens or something. Frankie lecturing Donnie about being good so that he didn't get expelled or something and cause more trouble for them at the orphanage, leading to them hating each other for a few years because they couldn't understand where the other was coming from, especially since Donnie himself didn't know what was wrong with him, and how they had to work hard to get close again which is why they're so inseparable and important to each other now.

Also Frankie looking to the internet to try and figure out what was wrong with Donnie, coming across people talking about their struggles with adhd and dyscalculia, and realizing nothing was actually wrong with Donnie, he just never got the right kind of help from the teachers. He then later helps Donnie get a diagnosis or atleast talk to a doctor after secretly saving up the little money they had, and how that helped Donnie realise how much his brother cared for him, healing some of the family and trust based trauma from being left behind by their parents.

Something something how Frankie's hair matches Donnie's jacket and how Donnie's hair matches Frankie's jacket. They're both always together even if no one realises it because they've become so important to each other that they subconsciously choose things to wear or have around them that reminds each of them of their brother. How that makes the death at the end even more tragic because they're finally apart, but Frankie still has the jacket to remind him of Donnie, so he'll always be there but never again physically, something something.

[unsoju]

★ trust. trust who?   𓂃 k. kozume x f. reader

cw. MINORS DNI. word count ; 3.5k. smut. third year! kenma. p in v sex. use of condoms (wrap before you tap it folks). loss of virginity. fingering. constant reassurance. turned into light angst at the end (sorry). first time writing smut (i do take constructive criticism, so pls point out what i could be doing better. thank you!).

syn. you’ve been here before, standing in this doorway asking kenma for something. last time was childs play. this time, though? this time it’s monumental.

The TV light flickers off, leaving you in complete darkness save for the light coming from your phone, and you realize you’ve stayed up too late. 

You point your phone down towards your chest, sneaking a peak at Keiko. It dawns on you that she’s probably been asleep for a while now. You hadn’t heard the random laughter and comments about the movie that had been playing for some time.

The hum of the AC and very faint sounds of gunshots are all you hear. A normal person would be confused and maybe even scared, but you’ve stayed at the Kozume residence enough to know that it’s just Kenma playing video games. Again.

You let out a sigh and glance around the dark room. There’s not much to do out here except play on your phone— your dying phone. Leave it up to you to forget a charger and forget to ask for one before Keiko falls asleep.

Eventually, you flip your blanket off your legs and stand. The hardwood floor is freezing cold even through your socks. A shiver runs down your spine as you tiptoe towards Kenma’s room. You stop just before it, leaning forward to put your ear against it.

You can hear Kenma cursing quietly, the repetitive clicking of his keyboard, the hum of his PC. Through the crack at the bottom of the door, you can see blue light and white flashes every so often.

You and Kenma have always gotten along. When Keiko brought you over for the first time, when you were in your last year of middle school and Kenma was a first year in high school, you two had an immediate understanding of each other. Kenma didn’t like to talk, and you did. You two left each other alone for the most part.

But, the older you get, the more things change. Kenma grew taller, he grew leaner from volleyball, he somehow got more handsome than before. He got friendlier with you, too. You’re not around him enough to know if he got like that with other people, but it’s nice.

You bring your balled fist up to the door, and only hesitate for a moment before knocking twice. “Kenma?” You whisper, trying to get his attention. When nothing changes in the sounds coming from inside the room, you knock again. “Open the door, gamerboy.”

There’s a pause in the noise now. No more curses from Kenma, no more faint gunshots. Instead, the sound of creaking floorboards replaces it. There’s a shadow in front of the door and then it opens. The blue LED lights almost blind you with how bright they are.

Kenma has his hair back. Unbidden, but strong, the feeling of pure attraction shoots through your body, making you shiver involuntarily. He has his headset on, but one of the sides is farther back on his head, leaving one ear open for him to hear the outside world. His hoodie is too big for him— like all of his hoodies— and he probably wore those sweatpants to bed last night.

How can one look like a slob, yet so hot at the same time?

“What?” He almost sounds annoyed, but by the way he keeps glancing back at his monitor, you can tell he’s probably in a match right now.

“Um, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

One more time, he glances back, then sighs and looks back at you. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

Suddenly, you get nervous. You’ve done this once before— your first year, when all your friends were bragging about their first kiss and you still hadn’t had yours. You showed up to Kenma’s door in the middle of the night and asked him to kiss you. And, for some strange reason, he did. Right there in the doorway. You two didn’t speak about it the next morning when he joined you and Keiko for breakfast, and you certainly didn’t tell Keiko about it when you finally revealed to her that you’d had your first kiss.

This question, this ask, is different, though. A much more intimate act to do in the doorway.

“Um, I have, uh, a question for you,” you mumble out, looking down at your socked feet. There’s a part of you that is already regretting coming to his door. And there’s another part of you that’s aching. For this? For Kenma? You’re not sure.

“Okay.” Out of your peripheral vision, you can see his own socked feet shuffling around. Probably antsy to get back to his game, you think.

The palms of your hands start to sweat as you twist your fingers around. If you look up at him while you ask this question, you’ll never recover. The thought of rejection makes you want to throw up in embarrassment.

You take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut, and ask on the exhale. “Will you take my virginity?”

The silence that hangs in the air is deafening. A silent killer. Your stomach starts to turn and you can almost feel the bile rising in your throat. This was a horrible idea. He’s your best friend's older brother— if he says no, you’ll still have to deal with him for the rest of your life. He’s probably going to tell his friends about you. His little sister's desperate friend. God, you think you’re going to pass out.

You turn your body away from him, preparing to do the walk of shame back to the living room couch, but he stops you by grabbing your arm. You freeze in his grasp. You’re going to turn around and he’s going to call a crazy lunatic for asking. him such a question.

“Why?” Is all he says. You blink at the ground a couple times. You ask him to take your virginity and his question is why? Out of pure disbelief, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re so genuine, you could sob. “You want me to take your virginity,” he states plainly. “Why?”

His fingers feel warm wrapped around your arm. Your skin is tingling. Your heart is racing. You swallow hard. “I trust you,” you mumble out, voice shaky. “You’re… I just trust you.”

You notice the furrow in his brow. You can tell his brain is working harder than it probably ever has before. You don’t want to, but you remove your arm from his grip. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry I asked. Just forget it, okay?”

You turn to leave again, but he sighs frustratedly and grabs you again. “Okay,” he says. You look at him, eyes wide. He glances down the hall in both directions, then pulls you into his room and shuts the door behind you. When he finally notices your surprised expression, he shrugs. “If you want to lose your virginity, I’d rather you do it with me than some random guy from school.”

It warms your heart a little bit and the thought of Kenma being jealous makes you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. He looks around his room awkwardly, finally landing on his PC.

“I should probably turn this off.” He gestures at it.

It dawns on you that he’s probably nervous too. Not as nervous as you, you’re sure, but nervous nonetheless. By the way he’s acting, though, you’re assuming he’s done this before. Just not with his little sister’s best friend. 

He walks over to his PC and turns it off, leaving the room illuminated in pure blue light. When he turns to look at you once again, your legs almost give out. You’re so nervous, you’re pretty sure you're shaking.

“You can sit down,” he says, taking a few steps towards you. He reaches up and scratches his neck. “We can’t really… do it standing. I mean, we can, it would just be, uh, awkward for your first time.”

You sit down on the very edge of his bed and stare at the ground. What are you doing? Asking Kenma, of all people, to take your virginity? Are you insane? You bite your bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth dig into the skin harshly. This is ridiculous.

You feel the bed dip, and your head starts to spin. Do you really need to lose your virginity? You have your whole life ahead of you! What if Kenma doesn’t enjoy it? What if it’s bad sex? What if—

“Are you sure you want to do this? Uh, with me, I mean.”

You look up to meet his eyes, and every negative thought reaching through your mind vanishes. You surge forward, placing your lips on his in a gentle kiss.

“Sorry,” you mutter, leaning back. “I’m sure, Kenma.”

His eyes dart down to your lips, then back to your eyes. With a small nod, he leans forward, putting his weight on one hand and cupping your face with the other.

It’s soft at first. Light kisses to the corner of your mouth, then to your lips, then down your neck. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate. Your hands sit awkwardly at your side— what are you supposed to do with them?

Kenma lifts his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face. He glances at the top of his bed and nods his head. “Can you lay back? I have to…” he sighs, running a hand down his face. “We can’t just go straight into it. You know that much, right?” When you nod, so does he. “I have to prepare you.”

“Okay.” You scoot back until your back hits his pillow. His bed is comfortable, you think. You would probably get a really good night's sleep in it. You’re shaken out of your thoughts when Kenma comes into your vision, hovering over you.

“Can I take off your shorts?”

You swallow hard, but nod. Shit is getting Real now. He hooks his fingers under the band of sleep shorts and pulls them down, huffing out a breath of hot air.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” he says breathily. He looks up and you can feel your face heat up. You open your mouth to talk, but he runs his finger down your slit and you gasp, trying to squeeze your legs together. “You’re soaking. You—“ he cuts himself off, hesitating. “Just from a few kisses?”

He’s not looking at you, seemingly entranced by you and your wetness. After a few beats, he looks up, licking his lips. “Have you done this to yourself before?” He clears his throat. “I mean, is one finger going to hurt?”

You give him a meek, dumb nod. When your brain catches up, you shake your head. “I’ve, um, it’s not going to hurt. You can— Ah!” You let out a surprised gasp as he pushes a finger into you. It’s loud and you know it. “Sorry, I’m— sorry. That surprised me.”

“Keiko is sleeping in the living room. You have to be quiet or she’s going to wake up.”

“I know, I know.” You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip again. You bite down so hard, you can taste a little blood. Keiko finding out is probably your worst fear at the moment. You went to great lengths to hide a kiss from her, you’re not sure what she’s going to do when she finds out he took your virginity.

Tentatively, he pumps his finger in and out a couple times, watching your face for any sort of reaction. You almost can’t look him in the face. He shifts on the bed, pushing his fingers deeper and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

His fingers continue moving, but his eyes are glued to your face. His eyes are lidded as he stares at you. “Can I put another one in?” Again, you nod silently. Slowly but surely, he adds another finger. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you gasp out. “No, it— shit, Kenma.” Your back arches off the bed just a bit and your eyes fall shut. If his fingers feel this good, how will you survive when he actually fucks you?

“There?”

His fingers speed up slightly and your hand shoots to your mouth, muffling the moans bubbling up in your throat. One of your legs, caged in between his own, twitches and brushes up against something. Something hard. The thought that you made Kenma hard makes you groan. “K- enma,” your speech is broken, interrupted by the arousal shooting through your body. “I’m ready. I—”

His fingers stop and the whine you let out is involuntary. You open your eyes and look down at him to find him staring intently. “I’ve only been fingering you for like, two minutes.”

“Kenma,” you whisper, brows furrowing. “Please.”

The way his face changes is instant. It looks like someone has flipped a switch in his brain. A brief memory flashes through your mind. Summer after first year, when you were staying over at Keiko’s for seemingly the umpteenth time, you needed something from the top shelf and neither of you could reach it. You had been in a boot because of a minor car crash, and Keiko had chosen just then to reveal her fear of heights. You had run to Kenma’s room, once again interrupting his video games, and asked him for help. He, of course, refused. But then you said his name and he looked at you. And you said, “Kenma, please.” And he stood up like a robot who had only one task in life; reaching the thing that you needed.

His sweatpants are off in an instant, laying in a haphazard pile on the ground, leaving him in his boxers. You think there’s flowers on them, but they might be cartoon characters instead. You’re not sure that matters right now. You meet his eyes again and they’re dark. A haze seems to have fallen over them. You swallow hard as he pulls down his boxers.

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He’s huge. Keiko had once told you that gamer boys have the biggest cocks— are the freakiest— and, of course, you hadn’t believed her. Maybe you should have.

“Is that going to fit?” The question slips out of you, dumb and full of disbelief. “I— sorry, was that weird?”

And Kenma laughs. He laughs. “It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve gotten that reaction.” He pauses, squinting his eyes. “That was the douchiest thing I’ve ever said in my life. I sounded like Kuroo.”

You giggle at that. You’ve only met Kuroo a handful of times, but you can picture him saying that.

“I should get a condom.” He crawls over you, reaching into the drawer beside his bed. His cock brushes against your inner thigh and you shiver. 

This is it. You’re about to lose your virginity to your best friend's brother. There’s a feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, but the second Kenma is hovering over you again, ripping the condom open, it fades away.

You watch him slip the condom on curiously. He’s really hard, it’s almost surprising. For the millionth time tonight, he looks back up at you, seeking permission. You give him a nod, but your head seems to stutter, so you give him multiple. He smiles and lines himself up with your entrance. 

“This is going to be a little uncomfortable since you were so eager.”

You swallow hard and finally, finally he pushes in. It’s just the tip, but it’s stretching your hole more than you’ve ever gone before. Your face scrunches up in discomfort and he stops moving. “N- no,” you stammer out. He furrows his brows and you shake your head. “Keep going. I- I can take it.”

He hesitates, but pushes in more. He pulls his lip into his mouth, sucking in a breath. His head drops down, now watching himself disappear inside you.

Your head drops down to the pillow, mouth open, eyes closed. You’ve never felt anything like this. It doesn’t hurt, you don’t think. It’s just different.

And then Kenma lets out a huff of air, mouth falling open to match yours. He looks up and gives you a smile. “I’m all the way in. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t hurt. It—” you shift, cutting yourself off when he hits what you can only assume is your g-spot. “Shit. Kenma, I—”

He pulls his hips back, then thrusts into you again. “C- can I move?” His voice is quiet, tight. “Fuck, you’re so warm inside.”

“Move.” You nod, reaching your hand out to grab his arm. Your grip is too tight, probably, but you can’t even begin to think about that right now. “You can— fuck, please move.”

This time, when he pulls his hips back, effectively leaving your weeping hole empty, he pulls back until only the tip is left inside of you. You clench around the cock remaining, biting your lip in a sad attempt to hide the whine that comes out of you.

And then he snaps his hips, sheathing himself inside of you in one thrust. You let out a noise, half-gasp, half-moan. Kenma’s hand slides up the side of your body, over your neck, then over your mouth. “You have to be quiet.” He punctuates the word with a thrust of his hips, pushing deeper inside of you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. 

“Mhm.” You nod frantically, though it’s sort of difficult with the way he’s holding your face, fingers gripping tightly and squishing your cheeks together.

He starts at a steady pace. In and out, in and out, in and out.  You’re bewildered by how full you feel, by how good he feels inside of you. It’s perfect, almost. He fits inside of you like he was made for you, perfectly sculpted to your insides. 

Your hand, formerly grabbing his arm tightly, moved to his hand, pulling it off your mouth. “F- faster, Ken- ah- Kenma. Faster.” You press your lips together and exhale through your nose, another attempt to quiet yourself. You didn’t even know you could be this loud.

His hands slip down to your thighs, gripping them tightly, fingers digging into the plush skin, and pistons into you at an unforgiving pace. Your back arches off the bed completely, mouth once again falling open in a mostly silent moan. Your chest is heaving, overwhelmed by the pleasure. There’s a familiar feeling building in your stomach— a knot, one might call it.

“Shit, shit,” Kenma curses breathily. You look up at him only to find him staring down at where he’s fucking into you. He looks so focused, you don’t even think he realizes that his grip on your thighs tightens and his pace gets faster.

As he hits that spot inside you, the one that sends a spark up of your spine, makes you want to close your legs and curl up into a ball, you think you’re going to cry. He hits it over and over and over again. That knot that was forming gets tighter, gets bigger, gets hotter.

You claw at his arms, a warning of your approaching climax. He jerks his head up to look at you and, for a brief moment, you get insecure. He’s seen all of you now, but you can’t help but think about how your face looks right now. The insecurity is washed away as Kenma lets out a quiet, yet genuine, moan. It’s hot and it’s nothing you’ve ever heard before.

“Kenma—”

“Fuck, Y/n. You’re so warm, so tight, so— ah—”

Your vision flashes white. Your back arches off the bed. The knot unravels and hot, hot pleasure shoots through your body. Your hand is over your mouth, muffling the slew of moans rolling off your tongue. 

For a final time, his cock brushes your g-spot and your orgasm almost violently rakes through your body, back arching impossibly, drawn out moan leaving your mouth, legs shaking faintly. 

Kenma follows your lead after a few more thrusts, and the feeling of his seed shooting into the condom makes you shiver. It’s a weird sensation. You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” you whisper, barely audible. Your eyes fall shut and you exhale heavily. “God, thank you.”

When you wake up the next morning, you’re still in Kenma’s bed. Panic shoots through you and you immediately sit up. The clock on Kenma’s wall says 6:30 AM. You look over at the sleeping boy and give him a soft smile.

And then the embarrassment of last night hits you, and you immediately get out of his bed and go back to the living room couch. If your legs hurt as you walk, you don’t say anything. When Keiko wakes you up, asking how you slept, you’ll tell her you slept fine.

And when Kenma finally wakes up, walks into the kitchen to have some breakfast, you’ll smile at him and pass the cereal as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe that’s your fate with Kenma.

[burningembers91]

The Beginning of Something Beautiful - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to: The Girl Next Door Kimchi Stew

Synopsis: When Hawng In-Ho's past is revealed, he must decide whether to continue living with his demons, or run towards the light.

Warnings: mentions of deceased wife, sexual content, 18+ only!

It’ll get easier over time. That’s what Hwang In-Ho had been told countless times by friends, family and even strangers after the death of his wife. He hadn’t believed them at first, hadn’t wanted to think of a world without her. But lately, he’d started to understand what they meant. Yes, the pain was still there, and maybe it always would be, but each day he found it a little easier to get out of bed. He’d started making friends at work, had begun exercising again and taking runs through the park he’d spent so long looking at from his apartment window. He was learning to laugh more, to smile at the small things and to find beauty in the everyday. He was slowly letting himself open up to you, showing you small snippets of the man he’d once been; the man who liked to tell jokes, who loved vintage cars, and who got overly competitive when it came to board games. He still hadn’t opened up about his past, but he was showing the man he truly was, not the grumpy hermit who shut himself away from the world.

In-Ho was still an enigma, some kind of handsome riddle you hadn’t been able to solve yet. He was spending more and more time at your apartment but stopped coming over under the guise of fixing things. He started to come over just to hang out, to watch TV or to go for a walk. He’d even invited you over to his apartment. The once bare room was now full of furniture, the walls repainted and decked out with paintings and prints. He’d cooked for you, proving himself to be an excellent chef. There were so many things still unspoken between you, but you were happy.

You could still hear him crying through the thin walls though, could still hear the turmoil he faced when the lights went out. You’d sworn you’d heard him say your name at times, his strangled groans as he fought with himself between his lust for you and his undying devotion to the woman he’d married. He was finding it harder to resist you, falling into an anguished cycle of dreaming about your touch, and punishing himself for thinking about another woman. You had slotted so nicely into his new life, the woman who had brought him back from the dead. He wanted to repay you for everything you’d done for him, but how could he when you didn’t know how much you’d saved him?

He was stacking shelves at work when you arrived, basket in hand as you did your weekly shop. You both smiled when you saw each other, In-Ho offering a small wave as he added another loaf of bread to the shelf. “Poor man,” an old lady tutted next to you. “Such a shame.” “I’m sorry?” you asked, looking at the wizened figure next to you, her head shaking as she watched In-Ho. “His wife died,” she explained, “liver failure. Killed her and their baby. It almost killed him.” You stared open-mouthed as she walked off, leaving you shellshocked. If it was true, it would explain so much about the man you’d come to care for so deeply. You had to force your feet to move you around the store, filling your basket in sickening silence as your mind reeled.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask In-Ho about it, to ask whether his family had been so cruelly taken from him. it just wasn’t something you could casually slide into a conversation. You found it hard to concentrate at your next dinner, trying and failing to feign laughter at a story you hadn’t even heard him telling. All you could you see was a man whose family had been ripped from him. You wanted to hold his hand, to tell him everything would be ok. You’d spent so long thinking about whether your relationship would become something more than a friendship, and now you understood why it hadn’t.

Hwang In-Ho sensed the change in you, saw the pity in your eyes. Someone must have told you, must have tipped you off about his broken past. He knew it was Mrs Park. That old bat had never been able to resist gossip. He didn’t want to lose you, didn't want to risk you pulling away. he knew he needed to tell you about his past, knew he needed to come clean before you heard anything else. Every day he was finding it harder to remain alone. He was beginning to see a future with you, to see something other than the crushing loneliness he had resigned himself to.

Catching you one night as you entered your apartment, he invited you over for dinner. “You know about my… my wife,” he said, and he watched your eyes plummet to the floor. “Yes, sorry,” you admitted, “it was Mrs Park. You know what she’s like. Can’t resist a bit of gossip.” “I want to explain. There are things…” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence, didn’t know how to encompass his feelings into words. “Please join me for dinner,” he whispered. He hoped the desperation in his voice hadn’t been apparent. He didn’t want you to pity him, he’d spent enough time pitying himself. “Ok,” you smiled, “I’ll see you later.”

When you arrived that evening, In-Ho could feel his hands shaking. He’d prepared a feast, his small apartment filled with the scent of cooking and pine scented candles. You were so beautiful in your burgundy dress, clutching a bottle of wine in your hand as you entered. The dynamic had changed between the two of you yet again, and he was hoping tonight he could steer it in a more positive direction. He’d spent many a sleepless night wrestling with himself. He would always love his wife, but he couldn’t deny the life he wanted with you; the life he hoped you wanted to.

You drank wine, and ate dinner, and laughed as you both relaxed. He’d filled out over the last few months, his taut muscles visible through the fabric of his shirt. His smile and his eyes were a little brighter, and you found yourself getting lost in him as he told you story after story. “I’ve been so alone for such a long time,” he confessed. “I punished myself for something that wasn’t my fault.” He looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke the next words. “I love my wife, very much.” “I know you do,” you smiled sadly. You braced yourself for what was coming next, for the heartbreaking crush of rejection. “But… these last few months, they have meant more to me than you will ever know.” He downed the last of his wine for Dutch courage before continuing. “You have brought me so much joy, you’ve given me a reason to get out of bed every day. I had to keep finding reasons to see you, I had to keep pretending things in your apartment were broken because I didn’t know how else to tell you that I liked your company.” You laughed, your eyes glistening as you watch In-Ho expose his vulnerability. “I love my wife,” he repeated, “but you, I have feelings for you. Feelings I never thought I would feel again. I don’t want to deny myself happiness anymore. My family isn’t coming back, but I would be a fool if I didn’t try and make the best of my life. I’d like to try doing that with you, if you want me.”

Taking a deep breath, you braced your hands on the table. Tears streamed down both of your faces, both of you finding the courage to take the next step. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with tears. “Yes, I’d like that.” In-Ho laughed, a sound that came from deep within his belly. He stood, pulling you from your chair and into his chest. He smelled of fresh shampoo and cologne, his breath warm on your face as you looked into other’s eyes. Brushing your lips against his, you couldn’t deny the electricity between you. it had been bubbling for so long, from the moment you had turned up soaking wet on his doorstep. Your lips met once more, harder this time, more sure of yourselves. His hands snaked up your shoulders, his fingers coming to rest on the back your next. You tasted like Merlot and shea butter, and In-Ho couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He made love to you on his sofa, your bodies pressed together on the tiny 2-seater. Every atom of his body burned for you, your moans spurring him on as he explored you. He’d spent so many nights wondering how it would feel to be inside you, but nothing compared to the reality. You were so soft, so warm, and you fit so perfectly against him. It was like you had been made just for him. He held you as the sun came up, his fingers tracing sweet, delicate circles over your nipples. You could taste yourself on his tongue, your body still tingling from the pleasure he’d inflicted. You didn’t want to part, didn’t want to head back to the emptiness of your apartment, but you had to get to work. “When can I see you again?” He asked, pulling you in for one last kiss. “Tonight?” you smiled, brushing the tip of your nose against his as you leaned further into his arms. “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he whispered, watching you disappear into your apartment.

For the first time in over three years, In-Ho felt weightless. He whistled as he showered, hummed to the radio as he prepared breakfast. He’d taken a huge step last night, one he never thought he’d be ready for. He heart would always hold love for his wife and child, but now it had space for you too.

[starzify]

CROSSFIRE - dean winchester

PAIRING dean x fem!reader

WARNINGS angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

MASTERLIST

The warehouse was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the darkness. Dean’s fists were clenched tight as he paced back and forth, boots scuffing against the dusty concrete floor. The blood smeared across his jacket wasn’t his—a fact that should have made him feel relieved. But it didn’t.

It was yours.

You were slumped against the wall, holding a bloodied cloth to the gash on your side, your face pale but determined. The vampire was dead, its decapitated body lying a few feet away. You had seen to that, staking it after it had gotten the drop on Dean.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Dean’s voice cut through the silence, low and gravelly, but laced with a fury that made you flinch.

“Nice to see you’re grateful,” you muttered, wincing as you pressed harder on the wound.

“Grateful? Are you kidding me right now?” He spun to face you, his eyes blazing with an anger that barely concealed the fear beneath. “You jumped in front of me, Y/N! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“Yeah, Dean. I do,” You snapped, glaring up at him. “You could’ve died. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

Dean ran a hand down his face, the fight draining out of him for a moment before he slammed his fist into the wall. “Damn it, Y/N! don’t get to make that call!”

You stared at him, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your life isn’t disposable!” he shouted, his voice cracking at the edges. “You think I can just—” He stopped, turning away from you, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“You think I can lose you and just walk away like it’s nothing?” He finally said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain in your side suddenly insignificant compared to the ache in your chest. “Dean…”

He turned back to you, and for a moment, he wasn’t the stoic, tough-as-nails hunter you’d always known. He was raw, vulnerable, his green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I’m not mad because you saved me,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I’m mad because you don’t seem to get how much you mean to me. If anything happened to you…”

“Dean.” Your voice was softer now, but he didn’t stop.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing out there? Throwing yourself into the line of fire every chance you get? Acting like your life doesn’t matter as much as mine?” His jaw tightened. “Well, newsflash, sweetheart—it does. It matters more than anything.”

The air between you grew heavy, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

“No,” Dean said, crouching down in front of you, his hand coming up to rest gently over yours where it pressed against your wound. “Don’t be sorry. Just… don’t do it again. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not you.”

You swallowed hard, finally looking up to meet his gaze. The intensity there stole your breath, and for the first time, you realized just how deeply his feelings ran.

“I can’t lose you either, Dean,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the two of you locked in a silent understanding. Then Dean’s lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles, though his eyes remained serious.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck with each other then,” he said, his tone lighter but still laced with emotion.

“Guess so,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

But just as he was about to pull back, something in your expression must have given you away—a flicker of vulnerability, of longing you hadn’t meant to show.

Dean froze, his green eyes searching yours as the air grew impossibly still. “Y/N…” he said softly, his voice unsure for the first time.

You didn’t give yourself time to second-guess it. Before you could lose your nerve, you leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It wasn’t tentative or shy. It was desperate, a release of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for far too long. Dean responded instantly, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, the other still bracing you as if he was terrified you might slip away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Dean’s forehead rested against yours, his hand lingering on your face. “You really don’t make this easy, do you?” he whispered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Since when have we ever done easy?” you replied, your voice shaking but steady enough to make him laugh quietly.

“Touché.” Dean leaned in again, pressing a softer, lingering kiss to your forehead before standing. “Now let’s get you patched up before I have a heart attack.”

His hand stayed on your arm as he helped you to your feet, his touch warm and steady. And as the two of you hobbled out of the warehouse together, you couldn’t help but feel that some wounds were worth bearing if they brought you closer to him.

[animekpopsimp]

They Save Your Life Squid Game x Reader (Platonic)

Gi Hun

"Green Light" the doll announced as you began making your way across the field as fast as you could. Your heart was racing as you passed the numerous dead bodies laying on the ground. At sixteen, you found yourself in a sick and twisted death game, risking your life to try and better your life. The dolls head began to turn and you prepared to stop, however as it announced red light, you tripped. Your eye went wide in horror as you began falling to the ground. You were sure that this was the moment you were going to die. Suddenly, you stopped falling as you felt someone grab you by the collar. The air was tense as neither you or your savior moved a muscle. After what felt like forever the doll announced green light and you found your footing again, you looked back at the man who had saved you with a grateful smile, you would have to thank him later.

Sang-Woo

You found yourself frozen staring at the shapes on the wall, trying to make a decision. Circle, Triangle, Star, Umbrella. What this choice meant was something you didn't know, and your time was running out. You knew your life was on the line, but you couldn't help but freeze up. Suddenly, you felt someone grab your arm and bring you to the line in front of the circle. You looked back to see who it had been, but they ignored you. Later, as you opened the container you had been given, you realized that the person who had pulled you into the line had saved your life.

Sae-Byeok

It was chaos as soon as the lights had gone out, a scream rang out. People began attacking each other. You did your best to keep yourself hidden, hoping no one would pay any attention to you. For a bit, you were able to stay out of sight. However, you were suddenly grabbed by the arm. Spinning around, you came face to face with one of the players holding a weapon. Eyes wide with fear, you yanked your arm out of the person's grip before they had the chance to harm you. They didn't give up, however. They got closer and suddenly, they were yanked backwards and knocked out with a single punch. You could only stare in shock,

"are you ok?" Sae Byeok asked, having been the one to save you. You nodded as she gently pulled you somewhere safer.

Ali

Your heart was pounding as you stared at the large doll on the other side of the field. Time was running out, and you were afraid that you were going to die.

"Green Light" the voice announced, and with that, you took off. The sight of the bodies littering the ground made you want to vomit, but you held back the urge. Suddenly, you tripped over one of them just before "Red Light" was announced. Your eyes went wide, terrified that you were going to die. However, before you could hit the ground, someone grabbed you by the collar, keeping you still. It felt like time stopped and eventually you could move again, you got back to your feet and continued to run, thankful that someone had cared enough to help you out.