#ugh that's not completely true they just like. never voice it or do anything about it or say much besides 'sorry' or 'go fix it' when i

[skrunksthatwunk]

finally looked up whether ill lose my state scholarship if i drop out after lowkey deciding i probably need to and the answer is yes 😶

[brawberryz]

You think i'm weird?

Damian Wayne × BatSis! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You had noticed that Damian was more distant than usual, his self-centered personality and confident tone had almost completely disappeared

You weren't stupid, you knew something was wrong, you were his older sister, maybe you had different mothers and were raised in different environments but that doesn't mean you didn't understand

You said you were going to confront him on the next patrol, you needed answers and as the excellent detective you were, you were going to get them

_

"Is there something bothering you?"

You said suddenly as the two of you sat in front of a building, it was the right time to talk, there was no one who could interrupt.

"What do you mean?"

Damian asked as if he didn't know what you meant.

"You're acting strange, like something was bothering you..."

You said as you stared at him, you knew something was wrong, maybe you didn't say it all the time but you cared too much for him, maybe sometimes you fought and it seemed like you wanted to kill each other and sometimes it was true, but still there was a part of your head that hated the idea that he, your brother, your little brother was in danger or sad.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Damian seemed to simply ignore the subject and want to change the conversation, your brow furrowed at such a response.

"I'm not stupid, Damian, tell me what's wrong? Did you fight with dad again or what?"

You sat a little closer to him, you were going to find out what was wrong with Damian even if it would take you a thousand years

"It's not that, it's just that..."

His voice trailed off in the middle of the sentence, he was hesitating to tell you, he seemed downcast, that wasn't the Damian you knew, he would never have doubted anything

"You... you think I'm weird?"

A laugh came out of your lips and you started laughing like crazy, Damian had never seen you laugh so much in his life as now

"WHAT ARE YOU MAKE FUN OF, STUPID!, ugh I knew I shouldn't tell you, you never take anything seriously"

Damian crossed his arms looking at you angrily, I didn't understand what was funny about the situation, he was telling you something personal and you just... you just laughed!?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But seriously I've never heard anything so funny in my life"

You tried to stop laughing, you wiped away a tear that fell from your eye before you could speak

"Seriously you ask, of all people you ask me that?"

You said ironically looking at Damian, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away

"Damian, we are vigilantes, there is nothing normal in our life, the strange thing would be if something was normal, you are literally the son of a very dangerous assassin and I am the daughter of a villain"

You let out a small laugh while saying that, but you saw that Damian's mood didn't change so you decided to get serious

"But hey, seriously, if you are weird but so what? We are all weird and you shouldn't be ashamed of that, I could say that I am weirder than you and I don't care"

Damian was surprised by your words, it was the first time he saw you talking seriously, he always thought you were too stupid and childish but what you just said really surprised him

"Thanks... I think"

"You're welcome, but don't be ashamed of being weird, let's be weird together, what do you think?"

You said giving him a smile as you put your arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, it was the first time you had gotten so emotionally close to Damian, you thought he hated you or something but apparently it was far from reality

"That... that's fine with me"

For a second you could see a small smile on Damian's face, that made your heart feel good

A few minutes passed before Damian spoke again

"You dare tell someone about this conversation and I'll cut your throat"

And there he was again the same old Damian, well at least those were the best minutes of your life before Damian went back to being Damian

"Whatever you say, Mr. weirdo"

You let out a laugh as you said those words

"I'M SERIOUS, YOU DARE TO TELL SOMEONE AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Damian spoke angrily, punching you in the arm

"Hey! That's enough, but stop doing it... HEY, STOP IT, IT HURTS!!"

You shouted, trying to dodge Damian's punches. God, I think you missed the emo Damian...

I imagine the relationship between Damian and BatSis! Reader like that of gumball and anais, i love writing about them, they are so silly

(*^▽^)/★*☆♪

[rikosseen]

Shintaro Yamazaki x Reader: Predawn

Anon request

The Yamazaki syndicate is full of weirdos. Hot weirdos. And amongst these hot weirdos, Yamazaki Shintaro holds the golden DILF trophy. It’s not like you had anything better to do than to gawk anyway. Fulfilling clan duties, cleaning up whatever you needed to, spying on Somi Park and the other ladies- what’s a woman to do with such a repetitive lifestyle?

Previously, the main objective for your presence was to carry the future heir for Yamazaki. However, before even meeting Shingen himself, news had spread across the clan that a child with reverse eyes had been born.

And so, to prevent your family from embarrassment for not fulfilling your duties, your days were spared working as- well- a maid. A servant, if you will. Not the brightest role, but it was something. And hey, at least your insides didn’t get destroyed by big, Tora Oni dick.

Anyway.

Today’s a nice day. It’s sunny, but not unbearably hot. There’s even a cool wind breezing around. What makes it nicer though, is that Shintaro’s blessing your eyes with his presence.

God, look at those forearms.

Could a man of his calibre be seduced? Probably not, but what did you have to lose? You’re scrubbing floors for crying out loud. So, shamelessly, you sit on your knees, looking up at the hulk of a man in front of you.

Shintaro isn’t stupid. And while he doesn’t care too much for his looks, even he can’t deny the amazing traits that the Yamazaki genetics has been able to carry. So of course he notices your bulging eyes. Of course he’s aware of your staring- of your drooling even.

The man doesn’t complain though. Your behaviour is… amusing. In the dead atmosphere of the syndicate, your presence brings humour. To complain would be to form contact with you. And, well, Shintaro’s adamant on thinking that there’s no need for him to initiate conversation. After all, he has better things to do.

.

You swiftly wipe the bead of sweat from your forehead, and sit on the ground. It’s 5am- the sun’s not up yet, but you figured it’d be in your best interest to finish chores early so that you’d have more free time during the day. Needless to say, the morning was a productive one.

“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”

You jump at the voice beside you, heart thumping against your chest.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh god, he’s so close.

The man looks down at you with his default, bored expression.

“You're up too,” you say, voice cracking.

Ugh, how embarrassing.

Shintaro hums, and showcases the paper in his hand.

“Don’t you get bored with the same routine everyday?” you joke, shifting and fiddling with the grass beneath you.

His face turns solemn, and he seems hesitant, but after giving you another look, he sits down beside you cross legged. You grip on the grass a little tighter, sucking in a quick, quiet breath.

“Someone has to keep things in order, no?”

You suppose that’s true. “Doesn’t it weigh on you?”

Shintaro wants to criticise you and tell you how much of an honour it is for him to be in the position that he is. But in the wake of predawn, and the result of the restless nights he’s endured, the Yamazaki can’t help but feel a tinge of agreement. Maybe so, but it’s something Shintaro will never voice out. It’s just the sleep getting to him. Actually- he wouldn’t be thinking such ridiculous thoughts if not for you. Maybe he was right to avoid you from the beginning. Doubt clouds his mind now. He glances back at you, and watches as you fiddle with blades of grass.

“I suppose,” he concludes.

.

A schedule breaks out, and you find yourself waking up early. Not to complete your chores, but to see Shintaro again. Time and time again, the Yamazaki joins you on the grass, and the two of you end up talking about nothing in particular. It’s mainly you doing the talking, but regardless, Shintaro listens.

He doesn’t say anything unless absolutely necessary. The man feels it too dangerous to even be in contact with you like this. His thoughts are never kept at bay during these predawn shenanigans. But somewhere deep inside him, he’s grateful. Grateful for the serene warmth you provide. Shintaro doesn’t complain. He doesn’t need to. Because slowly, even he’s finding excuses for why he’s sacrificing his sleep to be here.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Our Little Secret

kai parker x reader

summary: you should've known wearing a short little skirt would rile him up. but then again... maybe you did it on purpose. (80s!kai) (step-brother!kai)

tags: teasing, possessiveness, praise kink, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, blowjobs, vaginal sex

word count: 4.2k

“You look cute,” a male voice comes up behind you, “where are you going?”

You turn abruptly to see Kai, watching you from the other side of the kitchen. His gaze travels up and down your body, but he’s clearly staring at your ass. It almost makes you drop the soapy dish you’re holding. 

“Um, thank you.”

“Where are you going?” He repeats, eyes darkening.

“Nowhere.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m serious! I’m not going anywhere, I just felt like looking cute. Trust me, Kai. Do you ever see me leave this house?”

His jaw relaxes, knowing you’re telling the truth. “So you just felt like romping around in a short little skirt? Dad won’t be happy if he sees you in it.”

“Well Dad’s not here right now,” you point out. This is also true. Joshua was out for the weekend on coven duties. He won’t be back until late Monday. 

“Mom won’t like it, either.”

“She’s never minded me wearing what I want. As long as it’s appropriate to wear around the kids.”

“She scolded Jo just last week for wearing jeans that were too tight.”

“Well this is a skirt.”

“I can see the bottom of your ass, Y/N.”

“Why are you looking at my ass, Kai?”

“Because you have it on display for me to see.”

“I do not! I’m just doing dishes and minding my own business!”

“You would get so busted for that skirt if Mom saw. Joey would be staring, too. You know he has a crush on you.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Then stop talking about my skirt and just… go away.”

“I came to get a snack.”

“Then get it and go.”

Kai crosses the kitchen towards the fridge, and you finally think he’s dropped it. With his back turned, you bend down to put the plate in the dishwasher, then continue soaping up another. Little do you know that Kai’s watching you through the metal reflection of the fridge door. He licks his lips when your ass is on full display. 

“Y’know this is my house,” he suddenly challenges. 

You whip around to face him, annoyed. “So?!”

“You can’t boss me around in my own house.”

“Do you pay the bills? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I was here first. And I’m older than you.”

“Do you want an award?”

He eyes your figure again. “Are you offering?”

“Ugh! Stop it!” 

“Oh don’t act like you don’t like the attention. Why else would you wear that pretty little piece in an empty house?”

“I didn’t feel like putting on pants.”

He chuckles. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

You groan and turn back around, desperate to avoid his gaze any longer. 

Kai’s not completely wrong, but you’re not exactly lying, either. Yes, it’s true that you didn’t want to put on pants. Yes… it’s also true that you wanted to gain attention from your step-brother. There, you finally said it. You do like his attention. It’s his fault, though. He’s always flirting with you, regardless if the rest of the family is home or not. 

His eyes are always on you, at your back or front, whichever he can get. Countless times you’ve turned suddenly and caught him staring. A handful of those times, his own mother has tried to get his attention but struggled to pull it away from your breasts. His mother, of course, is none the wiser and assumes he’s daydreaming, but you know he’s not. He’ll smirk at you after, if he’s caught, and won’t let her believe anything scandalous was happening instead. 

Kai’s also gotten physical with you more times than you can remember. He’ll slide past you in a crowded kitchen, hands in the air as he’s banned from touching anyone, but his groin will brush your ass as he slinks across the room. Twice, you’ve felt the outline of his cock in his jeans when he did it. Both times, your face got so hot you needed to step away from the situation. 

He also has a habit of bumping into you. If you’re doing dishes or putting something away, he’ll suddenly appear, suddenly needing to do the same thing. Your shoulders or hips meet from his unexpected presence, and then he apologizes with a voice that does things to you. Either his morning voice, slightly rough, or his soft, midday voice, or the one heard at night, when he’s all talked out and dehydrated. Sometimes he’s close enough you can smell coffee on his breath, or mint, or even gin. Sometimes he lets his hand wander to the small of your back, or further down by your waist. When his family enters the room, he rips himself away from you. The bubbling warmth between you quickly goes cold and leaves you hungry. 

“Y/N… Y/N… hello?!” 

You blink twice, realizing Kai’s right next to you. A tupperware is in one hand, while the other waves in front of your face. “What?!”

“Jeez! Just asking if you wanted some of this.”

“What is it?”

“Leftover cake from Sarah’s birthday party. It’s chocolate,” he says the last part in a sing-songy voice.

“I know, I was there.”

“Do you want any?”

“No.”

“Awh, come on, Y/N… you know you do.”

“Fine. I’ll have a bite if you’re heating it up.”

His face breaks out into a grin and he mutters a celebratory, “yes!” to himself, then spins around to the microwave. 

“Put it all on a plate and gimme the dish. What’s one more dish to wash?”

“Okay. And thanks for doing that.”

“Mhm.” 

He leaves you alone while it warms. You turn slightly, wondering why he’s quiet, but see him on the other counter pouring two glasses of milk. You’re quick to face the sink again, not wanting him to see you looking at him. 

“So why cake?” You question as the two-minute timer beeps. “Don’t you usually eat pretty healthy?”

Kai shrugs. “Usually. But one dessert was denied, so I was craving something to fill its place.”

“What the fuck was- oh.”

“I mean, I’ll have two if you change your mind.”

You look down, avoiding his stupid smirk. 

“Kidding. Have a bite.”

Two minutes is the max time you get to eat in silence. After that, Kai swallows a big bite then looks back at you.

“In all seriousness, you do look really pretty.”

“Thank you,” you say, unsure how to take the compliment.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?”

“I’m just asking in case I have to kick someone’s ass! For like, brotherly reasons.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Good.” He’s then quick to follow with, “I mean, like, cause Dad would kick his ass, too. That, or turn him straight to dust. Poof! Did you know that Josette’s boyfriend had to go through three weeks of questioning just to take her on one date?”

“Yes, Kai, I was there. I’ve been living here for three years.”

“Right.”

“Did you see the time my brother got his ass beat for bugging me when I tried to eat?” You counter, challenging him.

“Joey?”

“No, dumbass, you.”

“Oh. Wait-” he puts his fork down as he realizes. “Sorry.”

You meant it as a joke, but his frown tells you he didn’t catch that. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go back upstairs. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Wait, Kai!” He doesn’t stop. “Kai!” You try again, reaching out to grab his arm. 

He freezes, not used to such direct contact. 

“I was joking, Kai,” you look in his eyes to say. “I promise. I really do like your company.”

“No you don’t, I bother you as much as I bother Jo.”

Your grip tightens. “No, you don’t. Kai, I’m serious. And I’m sorry. It went too far.”

Finally, he turns to you. “Honest?”

“Honest.”

“Pinky swear?”

You snort, then realize he’s serious. “Pinky swear.”

He grins at this, then slowly returns to the side opposite you, where he had been only seconds ago.

“As a matter of fact,” you continue, “you don’t bug me at all.”

He chuckles and looks at the floor. “I’m sure I bug you a little.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“What about earlier? That wasn’t annoying?”

Now or never to confess. You pick the former. 

“Oh, no. I certainly do enjoy your attention. Even when it's on my ass.”

“Oh, do you now?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you bring your chocolatey fork up to your lips, licking the whole length, and sticking your tongue out to him. You keep eye contact with him, watching his cheeks flush bright red. 

“Y/N…”

“What? We’re all alone… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t partially wear this little skirt for you.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“Awh, what happened to the bold Kai I know that will rub his morning wood against my back in the middle of a crowded kitchen? Is he shy?” You tease.

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into…”

“Oh, I think I do. Come on… I bet an afternoon hard is just as satisfying. Oh, but maybe we should wait a couple hours, for when I can literally taste the gin off your breath. Aw, nah, because then the window of opportunity will close. Jo will be home, and all those kids, and you’ll have to see your little brother blush at me without the pride of having owned me earlier in the day.”

“Y/N,” his voice is raspy. His hand ghosts over his pants, and when you follow the movement with your eyes, you see he’s rock hard. 

“Come on, Kai… You want to be a good stepbrother and beat up my nonexistent boyfriend? Well be a better one and fuck me right now.”

He only hesitates for a second more before rushing forward, pressing your back up against the sink, and kissing you roughly. He grips the countertop with one hand, your waist with the other. The plate of chocolate crumbs clatters into the sink, piercing your ears, but neither of you care. Your hands find his cheeks to get a grip. You hold them gently, but they’re burning in your hands. He’s a good kisser, despite having no experience. Before you know it, you’re both out of breath. 

“Kai,” you try to say his name, but it comes out in more of a moan. The two of you are separated, panting, and staring at the other. 

“You okay?”

“Perfect.”

He smiles, then starts to trail kisses down your neck. Your hands find his hair and pull at the roots. 

“Jump up,” he mutters. You do, and he catches your hips. He carries you to the other side of the counter, then sits you up on it. With gentle movements, he leans your back against the cabinet door. Had he sat you up by the sink, you would’ve had no support for your back. You give him a sloppy kiss as a thank you. 

Kai smiles at you, but then instead of going back to your neck, he crouches just a little on his knees. As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you let out an involuntary whine. Your hands bunch up your skirt and he smirks.

“Smart girl.” He wastes no time pulling down your thong, then stuffing it in his back pocket. The cold air only hits your core for a second before his fingers find your clit, rubbing gently. 

“Ohh, Kai,” you whine.

“That’s it, princess. Keep whining for me.”

You let out another, this time, between sealed lips. 

Kai puts a finger in you without warning. “Louder, baby.”

“Kai, I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can. No one else is here.” He puts in another. 

You can feel the soft pads of his fingers on your walls. “More,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he praises.

You squeeze your eyes shut as wetness gushes from your body. You’ve always had a praise kink, and he’s about to find out. 

“You like that?”

You nod quickly.

“Well keep it up. Keep making those sweet little sounds for me.”

You nod again, eyes still closed. With your eyes shut, though, you have no warning when his nose is suddenly grazing your clit. As soon as it touches, though, you let out a loud moan, almost pornographic. 

“Good girl,” he says again, hot breath up against your core. Then, it’s his tongue making contact with your clit. He teases the nub with the tip, then slides it between your folds.

Your hands dig in his hair and moans fly out of your mouth. “Kai!”

He doesn’t answer this time. All his focus is on you. Two fingers still explore inside, while his tongue laps up your wetness. Obscene slurping sounds fill the room, mixed with your own cries. Kai can’t even catch all of it with his tongue - some drips to the title floor with a loud splat, and you can feel the curvature of his lips against your skin. 

The boy is an expert, despite probably being a virgin. He knows just how to flick his tongue; just how to curl his fingers. 

“Kai, I’m coming,” you cry out, gripping the countertops. Your hands are sweaty and you almost slip. In an instant, his hands catch you, even the one that had been inside your heat. “No, don’t stop what you’re doing,” you mutter, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Sorry, princess,” he replies, putting them back. He then finds the pace he had before, and works to bring you back to the edge. 

Moments later, your orgasm is the most powerful you’ve ever had. No other man, nor your own fingers have ever done justice to what he could do with his tongue. He sucks and finger-fucks you throughout your orgasm, paying no mind to the way you squeeze your legs around his head, nor the way you begin to ride his face as you come. Kai doesn’t let up until your legs are shaking, and your heavy moans become little whimpers. Only then, does he stand back up and smile at you. 

“You okay?”

“Fuck, Kai.”

“Too much?”

“No. Never.”

“Too much for round two?”

“What?” You mutter, out of breath.

“We can stop if you’re tired.”

You fight to catch your breath, and in that time, happen to glance down. Your eyes go wide as you notice he’s pulled out his cock. Stiff as a board, red, and oozing with pre-cum, it rests in his hand. 

“No, no stopping. Just… give me a minute.”

“We don’t have to, princess.”

“No, I want it. I want you.”

You then make an attempt to jump down from the countertop, but your arms are still shaky. He catches you in an instant, an eyebrow raised.

“Where are you going, little peach?”

A tired whimper escapes the back of your throat as you open your mouth to speak. Despite the grip he still has on both your arms, you manage to sink down to your knees. Halfway down, Kai realizes what’s happening and lets go. 

“Aw, does my little bunny want to suck her stepbrother’s cock?” Kai takes himself in his hands and levels with your face. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

You blush, and fight the urge to turn your face away. 

“Eyes on me,” he says, seemingly knowing your thoughts. 

You obey him, eyes bouncing between his face and his length. Your heart speeds up at the prospect of taking it. Of feeling it heavy in your mouth; feeling it hit the back of your throat. 

“Can I?”

“Go ahead, princess.”

Your hands join his. Your eyes roll back in your head at how good it feels. When you look up to him, he nods, and you dart your tongue out to taste the pre-cum leaking from the tip. It’s thick, and salty, and if that’s just your first taste, you know you need to start working for more. You lick the head, swirling your tongue in circles. Your lips suck the first few inches. 

“No more teasing.” He tries to be stern, but it comes out in a moan. 

You then put a hand on his thigh for a better grip. The jeans underneath your skin are uncomfortable. 

“Off,” you mutter, hands flying to his belt. 

“Hm? Oh.”

But you’re faster than Kai. Before he can give you any help, you’re unbuckling the metal and peeling his pants down his legs. You’re sure to be careful at his cock, though, pulling it back through the zipper hole, then letting it free.

Kai steps out from the pool of his pants. “Better for you now?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, lips pressed on his length. The action sends vibrations all over and he can’t help but moan again.

Your hand on his thigh squeezes his skin enough that it’ll bruise under your fingernails. Kai only has a second to concentrate on this, though, because in the next second, you’re licking a stripe from his balls to his head. Your tongue is dense against a prominent vein, earning another sound from him. Kai’s hands dig into your hair. He fights the urge to buck his hips into your mouth. 

“Y/N,” he warns. If you don’t stop teasing now, he’ll do just that.

Luckily, you catch onto his need. Your lips curl around his head, tongue flat, and you begin to move up and down on his length. You start slow, but as he gets wetter, your lips glide better. The hand holding him no longer has a use, the first time you take him all the way. It slips further back to tug on his balls, while his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly. 

Kai keeps his hands on you, buried in your hair, scratching your scalp. Profanities tumble from his lips; words that if his dad were to hear, he’d be beat for days. You smirk against his cock, knowing he can feel your lips curving. 

“You’re a naughty little thing, peach. You like that?”

You respond by not losing pace, not slowing down for a second. 

“Mhm,” he confirms, “what a good little slut you are. Taking her brother’s cock so well. Tell me, princess, is this something you think about at night? How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of this happening?”

Again, you don’t answer. 

“One? Two? Three? More?”

Your hand on his balls travels up to squeeze his ass. The skin is soft between your fingers, and you quickly put your other hand on his other cheek.

“I’ll take that as more than three times,” he chuckles. 

You pinch his cheek unexpectedly, making him jolt. His reaction makes you giggle. When you look up to see his reaction, there’s a smile on his face, too. 

“You look beautiful on your knees for me,” he praises. But then his hands find your face and he slowly eases you off his cock. “So, so beautiful. But I’m getting close and I need to be inside you.”

You nod, wanting the same. 

Kai then grabs you from under your armpits, helping you to your feet. When you’re stable, he hoists you back onto the countertop. Not a moment later, he’s kissing your lips, sore, and red from sucking. Then, at the same time that he hitches your skirt back up your thighs, he presses kisses all around your face. You giggle, his lips tingling your skin, and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Are you ready?” You shake your head ‘yes’. “Need a minute?” You shake it ‘no’. “Okay. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.”

Kai holds your back steady. His cock is in his other, glistening with your spit; teased, and in need of release. He pushes into you slowly, letting you adjust. He keeps an eye on your face, watching for signs; hoping for pleasure, prepared for pain. Your eyes flutter as he passes your folds. Your mouth hangs open, spit dribbles from your bottom lip. The pair of you moan at once, both relishing in the feeling of his cock inside you. He smiles at the simultaneous sound of pleasure.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Words, please, princess.”

“Yes, Kai,” you manage. 

“There you go. Good girl.”

“Go faster.”

“Already? Alright. Gotta give my good little slut what she wants.” 

You duck your head in embarrassment. The way he switches between praise and degradation does something to you that you can’t explain. Your core is so sopping wet that he slides in and out painlessly. He pulls out nearly all the way, then slams back into you hurriedly. 

“Ah, ah, eyes on me. I want to look into your pretty little eyes while I ruin you.”

You whine at his words and tighten your arms around his neck.

“Perfect. Keep making those sounds, Y/N. You know the drill by now.”

Kai finds a pace that suits you both. Sweat drips from his forehead and his mouth hangs open, out of breath, but he isn’t slowing down. You’re grateful that he’s holding your back, otherwise you would’ve fallen by now. 

“Kai!” You cry, hooking your legs around his waist to bring him even closer. He groans, and you decide to feed into that dirty talk he seems to like. “You fuck me so well. You’re a perfect fit for my tight cunt - oh!”

As expected, he loves it. “You bet I am, princess. Have you ever had anyone else fuck you this well?” 

“No! You know just what I need.”

“Not even that boy you went to prom with last year? I heard you telling Jo about your little after-party with him.”

“I just imagined he was you, Kai,” you admit. “And any hookup since, I just pretend it’s you fucking me into oblivion.”

Fire burns in his eyes. A possessiveness that tells you all you need to know - he owns you now. You’re his girl. There will be no more pretending, because he’ll be the only one fucking you. 

Kai continues to pound into you, but he’s getting sloppier by the second. He’s close, and you are, too. 

“I’m gonna come, Kai,” you pant, running a hand through his hair. It’s wet with his own sweat, and when you push it up, some of the strands stay. 

“Do it. Come for me. I’m close behind you.”

Permission granted, you orgasm a second time. Your body shakes and moans tumble from your lips. His name is mixed in with them; you chant it over and over like a prayer. 

“I don’t want to come in you, baby,” he manages to say. “Where should I-?”

You lift your shirt up over your head before he can finish his sentence. Kai’s eyes immediately go to your breasts, confined within your bra, but pushed up from the underwire. In the same moment he pulls out, you unclasp the hook on your back. Your tits bounce out from their cage just to be pelted with cum a moment later. You moan again, pleasured by the warmth of his seed on your body. 

Kai’s hands fall to the countertop as he tries to keep himself upright. The sounds falling from his lips are obscene, and beautiful, and you love every one of them. His eyes roll before looking into yours. Both of you take a minute to recover. 

“Your tits,” he finally says, still catching his breath, “are beautiful. Should’ve taken that bra off a long time ago.”

“There’s always a next time,” you suggest, hoping to see that glint in his eye. 

The words take a moment to register in his brain. When he looks back up at you, though, you see it. The possessiveness; the mischievousness. You’ll never belong to another man again. 

“Definitely a next time,” he repeats. 

Satisfied with the answer, you feel a small tension in your jaw relax. You look down at your breasts, sticky with drying cum, and swipe a bit of the load on your finger. Kai watches you suck it off, then go back for more. Once your chest is clear, you smack your lips. 

“You’re crazy, Y/N,” he leans forward and nips one of your tits. You giggle, then cover your front with your hands. Kai quickly grabs your hands, then sucks on the other tit. “That’s why I like you. Part of it, at least.” He drops your hands and looks you in the eye, completely serious. 

“I like you, too, Kai.”

He helps you off the counter in his next stride. You’re smoothing out your skirt, and he pulls up his pants, when he suddenly asks, “was what you said true?”

“When?”

“About the prom. And the hookups. Do you really imagine me?”

“It’s the only way I can get off.”

His face breaks out in a stupidly happy grin. “Does Jo know?”

You snort. “I wish. But of course not. It’s my little secret.”

“Well now this is our little secret,” he points a finger between the two of you. 

“That it is. And I just happen to be amazing at keeping secrets.” You throw him a wink, and then the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon talking, with the occasional break for a make-out session. 

[lizzy06]

Tsukishima Kei x Reader Fic Recs!!

(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Karasuno Fic Rec Masterlist

The Worst Kind of People ✨by fathomfive (fluff, humor, training camp)Tsukishima falls in with the wrong crowd, and makes some questionable decisions he can't back out of.

Bet ✨by @oreosmama (oneshot, humor)You ended up wearing a green bean costume to school the next day. Why? Ugh, don’t ask.[COMPLETED]

Red Pens Pt 1| Pt 2 ✨✨💖by @seokiloquy (soulmate au, fluff, teacher's assistant! reader, teacher!tsuki)

  Practice Makes Perfect ✨by @oreosmama (oneshot, humor, fluff)There’s nothing wrong with preparing to ask out the guy you like. Just make sure you don’t have an audience while you do it.[COMPLETED]

You Found Me by @mitsuki-murakami (soulmate au) A Soulmate AU where the location of your soulmate is written on your wrist. When you get closer to your soulmate, the tattoo will get darker. When the both of you are in very close proximity each other for the first time, the tattoo will turn hot and burn you, but will stop burning once you make eye contact.

Red Pt 1  ✨by @seokiloquy (soulmate au red string of fate) [COMPLETED]

simple stars✨ by @why-did-i-join-this-fandom(twoshot,soulmate au) [COMPLETED]

The Sound of Your Voice by @volleychumps (oneshot,soulmate au) [COMPLETED]

Hard, but soft by katcchi(oneshot, soulmate au)When you have their first words spoken to you on your wrist.[COMPLETED]

tainted colors ✨by @tooruluv (angst, fluff) in a world where you only see color when you’re in love, you’ve grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.[COMPLETED]

Painful soulmate meeting by kitty58732 (oneshot, soulmate au)You switch your bodies and you are on your period.[COMPLETED]

Misread by @peachiikawa (oneshot, fluff) soulmate's name on ur wrist[COMPLETED]

shock by @snake-house (soulmate au)[COMPLETED]

soulmate au by @haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles (oneshot, fluff) Injuries sharing

keeping a secret by crescentsteel (humor, angst, fluff)You love goading Tsukishima, and while he doesn't say anything about it. You know that he loathes you for it. Yet, why is it that you two suddenly find yourselves keeping a secret that even you couldn't fathom having. [ONGOING]

skin deep deception✨ by @azucanela (soulmate au, oneshot) In a world where the number of lies your soulmate tells each day is written in your wrist, Y/N has found that her soulmate has two moods. No lies, or dozens at a time.[COMPLETED]

Morning Whispers by @yourstarvic (oneshot, fluff)Tsukishima couldn't help but to admire you and tell you how much he loves you in the early morning.[COMPLETED]

Unfortunately It's Always You by queenofhyrule (friends to lovers, fluff, love confession) No matter who you date or how much you try.. it seems that you can't get that stupid cocky smirk and those beautiful golden eyes out of your head. This was ridiculous. You’re in college now. If you couldn't move on and find someone else.. was there any hope for you?[COMPLETED]

 Don’t Slouch by @oreosmama (oneshot, humor, fluff)You’ve got a bad habit. You know that. So why does that blond smartass in your class keep ragging you about it? [COMPLETED]

  Loving Tradition✨ by @oreosmama(oneshot, angst, fluff)Tsukishima has accidentally started a growing tradition with you: he will attend your home volleyball games, and you will attend his. But why does it hurt so much when you finally miss one of his own games? Surely he doesn’t like you that much… right? [COMPLETED]

In Time You Get Your Rewards by liillyliilly (soulmate au, fluff, humor)[COMPLETED]

Death of a party girl ✨by LemonCandle (soulmate au, fluff, angst, humor) (Y/N) never thought she would find her true love. Looking out the window of the hospital room she was confined in, someone unexpected stumbled through the door, changing her life forever.

[COMPLETED]

Seatmates be jeneru (oneshot, unrequited crush, jealousy) Tall, is wearing glasses and a little bit on the snobbish side. Then why are you seated next to Hinata? [COMPLETED]

god, i love the moon by aikeru(smut, enemies to lovers, crushes)the first time tsukishima meets you, he's a total ass. however, you're a salty bitch who holds grudges.[COMPLETED]

Compelled ✨by dudeandduchess (arranged marriage, angst, fluff, humor, smut, jealousy)There were three things in life that she wanted for herself, but none of them included having to marry Tsukishima Kei or staying with him for any prolonged period of time

Sour Candy by leesamess (smut, frenemies to lovers)The University AU, frenemies to lovers, only one bed with happy ending, cliché fanfic that's pretty much required to exist.[COMPLETED]

Hatsukoi ✨by Rainbend (hate to love, fluff, humor) you helps the boys' team soar to greater heights and meet new interesting people long the way while she figures out her feelings for Tsukishima Kei. Maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way, too.[COMPLETED]

Kintsukuroi by deltachye(childhood friends, crush, slowburn) kintsukuroi to repair shattered pieces with gold[COMPLETED]

How He Shows You Affection by @jayeray-hq(oneshot, fluff)[COMPLETED]

He’s My Best Friend by @jayeray-hq(oneshot, fluff)[COMPLETED]

want vs needs by krystallisert(oneshot)In which Tsukishima learns the differences between wants and needs, and finds that maybe they aren't that different after all.

[COMPLETED]

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you write a story based off the the episode 10x3 where they are trying to cure Dean as a demon. Sam for the most part has kept their sister away from demon Dean but she wants to face him and he’s just evil and trying to break her. The whole story is her dealing with all of her emotions and trauma. Obviously in the episode he breaks out of his restraints and maybe he finds the sister in the bunker and tries to kill her and then you can figure out the rest. Just make it super intense and dramatic and detailed. I just think the whole storyline from 10x3 would be soooo good and I know you’d write it exactly how I imagined it with the perfect amount of angst, comfort and everything inbetween ugh I’m so excited if you can write this. thankkkk you!!!!!

A/N: OH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. I followed the storyline pretty much of the entire episode and it’s SUCH A LONG STORY. I just kept writing and writing, but I felt it was necessary. I wanted to capture every single emotion and detail to really get a feel on this story because it was such an intense episode already. I hope you love this!! ALSO requests are always open like please you can spam me with a bunch of requests and I’d be so happy. Some stories catch my mind a little more than others but if you have requested something already I am WORKING ON IT I PROMISE!! Just some get my mind/ideas flowing way more than others so they get finished first. If you put in a request already and I haven’t done it yet just do it again and I’ll try to speed it up on writing it. Other than that keep sending in requests!! I’ll write anything lol. Also pls lmk how you like this one it seriously took so much effort and I would absolutely love if I got some feedback!!!!!!

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader (and a little bit of cas hehe)

You sat in the bunker, paralyzed with fear. Dean was back, but he was still a demon. You hadn’t seen much of him because Sam refused to let you around him, but the little you had heard about him it was clear: he wasn’t your brother anymore. He was cold, his eyes pitch black, and there was no hint of remorse behind them. Your body trembled as you fought to hold back a sob. The door opened, and Sam stepped in—he looked utterly broken. He was carrying a cooler full of blood that would hopefully cure Dean of being a demon.

“Sammy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. He froze at the sound of your voice, taking in the sight of your trembling form. The fear in your eyes hit him hard, and he longed to shield you from the nightmare their family had become. “Hey, bug, what’s going on?” He asked softly, stepping closer. That’s when you saw him fully—his face was exhausted, but it was his eyes, hollow and drained, that told the true story. His appearance was what absolutely crushed you and before you knew what you were doing, you blurted out an apology.

"I’m so sorry, Sam," your voice cracking with emotion. You fought to keep herself together, but the tears came anyway, spilling down your cheeks. "I’m sorry for everything. For this life... for the constant running, the fighting, the endless darkness. I’m sorry we never had a chance to just be—to be a normal family, to be happy." You shook your head, your breath catching as the weight of it all crashed over you. "And now... Dean..." your voice trembled, and you had to stop for a moment, swallowing hard to keep from breaking completely. "He’s not even Dean anymore. And I don’t know what to do, Sam. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to help."

The tears came faster now, and you didn’t try to stop them. You just let them fall, your chest heaving with each breath. You wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket, your voice barely a whisper as you added, "I’m just so sorry."

Sam stood frozen for a moment, his heart aching as he watched you crumble. You were apologizing for things you had no control over. It hit him like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, he put down the cooler and moved toward you, his arms instinctively reaching out, pulling you close. He needed to comfort you, to make you feel safe again, even if everything around them felt like it was falling apart.

"Hey, hey," Sam whispered, his voice soft and steady, even though his own heart was breaking. He gently cupped your face in his hands, brushing away the tears that fell from your cheeks. "Don’t ever apologize for this life. You hear me?" His voice wavered, the depth of his love for you clear in every word. "You didn’t ask for any of this either. I know this life has been cruel to us. I know it’s taken so much from us, but none of this is your fault. None of it."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, holding you like you were the most important thing in his world—because you were. He buried his face in your hair for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it was hard. Everything felt impossible. But he knew he couldn’t show you that. You needed him now more than ever, and he’d be damned if he let you feel alone in this.

"You don’t deserve this," he murmured, his voice full of quiet sorrow, but also a fierce protectiveness. "You never deserved any of this. We’re in this together, and I’m not going anywhere, okay? You don’t have to carry this by yourself."

He gently pulled back, his hands still on your shoulders, his eyes full of nothing but love and determination. "I don’t care how messed up this world is or how screwed up we are. We’re family, and that means we fight through this. Together. Always."

He wiped your tears softly, his voice full of reassurance. "You’re not alone, and you never will be. I’m here. I’ve got you, no matter what."

You pulled away slightly from Sam, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Your heart ached for him—he was carrying so much, and you knew he was trying to protect you from the worst of it. But the thought of him facing Dean alone, of him struggling with the monster his brother had become, made you feel like you were suffocating.

“I need to help you, Sam,” you said, your voice urgent but soft, almost pleading. You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure. "Please. I want to help you. I can’t just sit here while you go through this alone."

Sam's expression hardened, and his hands tightened around your shoulders, as if holding you back from something he knew was dangerous. His eyes were filled with desperation, but there was a clear resistance there—he didn’t want you anywhere near this. He knew the toll it was taking on him, and the thought of you getting involved, of you getting hurt, made his chest tighten with fear.

"Y/N, no," Sam said, his voice low and firm, though there was a raw edge to it. He shook his head slightly, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. "I can’t... I can’t let you do that. You’ve already been through enough, and I’m not dragging you into this. I won’t." His hands gripped your arms tighter, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can handle it. I’ll face Dean. But I can’t let you face him too. You’re not supposed to be in the middle of this. I’m supposed to keep you safe. I won’t risk it."

But you shook your head, the fire in your chest growing stronger. You couldn’t just stand by and watch him suffer alone—not when it was your brother too. The guilt would eat you alive if you didn’t help him now.

"I can’t let you do this alone, Sam," you said, your voice breaking with determination. "I need to face Dean. I need to help you. I know it’s dangerous, but I can’t just... I can’t live with myself if I don’t try. If I don’t help you now, if I don’t stand by your side, I’ll never forgive myself."

Sam’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, conflicted. His protective instinct screamed at him to push you away, to keep you safe. But he could see the resolve in your eyes, the way you were unwilling to back down, and it hit him harder than anything else. He wanted to protect you from this pain, but he couldn’t deny you your choice. You had always been there for him, and it hurt him to know you thought you had to do this.

"Y/N," Sam started, his voice rough, but there was no mistaking the concern in it. "I don’t want you to... I don’t want you to see Dean like this. You’ve already been through so much, and I—" He faltered for a second, taking a breath. "I’m not sure I can keep you safe, not with what he’s become."

You stepped closer to him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the love he had for you and the fear of losing you. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time.

"I have to help, Sam," you said, your voice shaking but resolute. "You don’t have to do this alone. I won’t let you." Your hand gripped his, steady and firm. "We’re in this together. Always."

Sam swallowed hard, his hand reaching up to hold yours, but his eyes stayed on you with that same conflicted pain. Slowly, he nodded, though it was clear how much it hurt him to agree.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But I’m not going to let you get hurt. I can’t lose you too." He pulled you into another tight embrace, holding you as though he never wanted to let you go, as though you were the one thing still keeping him from falling apart completely. "I’ve got you. And I’ll make sure we both make it through this." You nodded into his chest, but wanted to make sure that he knew you were also there for him. You pulled away from him and walked towards the cooler of blood he had put down.

“Well, we better get started,” you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt as you picked up the cooler. But before you could even take a step, Sam’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm with gentle but unyielding force.

You froze, looking up at him, and the moment you met his eyes, you saw the storm behind them. His jaw was tight, and there was something darker flickering in his gaze, something full of fear—fear for you.

"Wait," Sam said, his voice thick with something you couldn’t place. His grip on your arm didn’t hurt, but it held you still, like he was trying to anchor you in place, to make sure you understood what you were about to face. "Listen to me, okay? You have to be ready for what you’re about to see."

You gulped, but tried to be confident in the situation you found yourself in. "Sam, I’ll be fine."

He shook his head, his hand still on your arm, his thumb brushing over your skin as if trying to calm you. "No, you won’t. You think you know what you're walking into, but you have no idea." His voice lowered, a layer of tenderness creeping in. "This isn't Dean you're going to see in there. He’s a demon, there’s no one possessing him it’s just who he is."

Your stomach dropped, but you held his gaze. “I know Sam." You muttered softly, hearing him say it out loud made you feel nauseous.

Sam’s eyes softened, but the worry never left. He stepped closer to you, his body looming just slightly over yours as if shielding you from something, though you knew he couldn’t protect you from the truth that was waiting for you behind that door. "I know you do," he whispered, his voice rough. "But you need to hear me, okay? It’s different and I’m trying to prepare you in every way possible. He’s going to make you feel things you can’t control. He’s going to manipulate you. He will say things that will make you question everything, make you doubt yourself. He will try to break you."

You frowned, but Sam wasn’t done. He let go of your arm, his hands moving to your shoulders, his touch firm but careful, as if he was afraid even the smallest jolt would shatter you. "He’s good at that. He knows exactly how to twist your feelings—how to twist your memories. He knows how much you love him, and he will use that against you. He will make you feel like you're losing everything. And that—" Sam’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, but he forced himself to keep going. "That will be the hardest part."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I won’t give up on him, Sam. I know what Dean is. I know what he means to me."

Sam nodded slowly, his forehead furrowing in quiet desperation. "I know you won’t," he murmured, and for a brief moment, his eyes softened with something close to admiration. "But he IS a demon now... and he WILL make you question everything. You’ve never seen Dean like this. You’ve never seen him like this before."

He let out a sharp breath, like he was weighing how much to say. "It’s not just about seeing him as a demon. It’s about feeling what he will do to you. He is going to make you think he’s gone. That you’ll never get him back. And it’s going to hurt—so much worse than you think." His eyes were dark now, full of an understanding you couldn’t ignore. "You need to prepare yourself. Mentally, emotionally... you need to brace for it. Because when you see him... you won’t recognize him at all. And that’s going to hurt the most."

You felt the weight of his words crash into you. Sam wasn’t trying to scare you—he was trying to protect you, to prepare you. And though a part of you wanted to shake off his worry, to push past it and rush forward to face Dean, you couldn’t. You couldn’t ignore how much he cared.

"I can handle it," you whispered, but even to your own ears, the words sounded fragile.

Sam’s face softened, but the sadness in his eyes deepened and for a long moment, Sam didn’t speak. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable, torn between wanting to protect you and knowing you needed to do this.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, his voice tight. "When you see him—when you look at him—don’t forget who he was. Don't let him make you forget the older brother you’ve always known." He paused, his eyes searching yours, desperately trying to convey every ounce of his care. "Promise me, please, that you won’t let it break you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you nodded slowly, determined despite the fear twisting in your chest. "I promise, Sam. I won’t forget him. I won’t give up on him."

Sam let out a shaky breath, the weight of his relief almost visible. He squeezed your hand, then took a step back, his eyes still locked onto yours. "Okay," he whispered, his voice full of quiet, helplessness. "If you need to walk away... you do that. You turn away and don’t look back. Not for a second. Don’t give him that satisfaction, okay?"

"Okay, I wont," you said, your voice steady now, even if your heart was pounding through your body. "I’ll come find you if you walk out. You’re not in this alone." Sam reassured, the concern never leaving his face. You nodded and with one last glance, he stepped aside, letting you walk toward the door. You reached for the handle, feeling the cold metal beneath your fingers as Sam’s steady presence lingered behind you.

And with that, you stepped forward, ready—or as ready as you could be—to face your brother who was now a demon.

As soon as you stepped into the room, your eyes locked onto him, and the air seemed to freeze. The coldness that radiated from him was palpable, like a dark aura pressing down on you. Though his eyes weren’t black, there was something in them—something sharp, dangerous—that sent a chill straight through you. It was the unmistakable presence of evil lurking beneath the surface, twisting everything that had once been Dean. For a moment, you froze, instinctively halting in your tracks as the weight of the transformation hit you full force. You wanted to step back, wanted to run, but before you could think about moving, you felt Sam’s hand gently settle on your back, grounding you. His touch was a steady reminder that you weren’t alone, even as the room felt like it was closing in. You walked closer to Dean and watched as the corner of Dean’s mouth curled into a twisted smirk. The room seemed to grow colder as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you. His eyes—those familiar eyes—were colder than you remembered, and the way he looked at you felt wrong. Like you were nothing more than a toy to him. “Well, look at you. My baby sister,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You think you can save me, don’t you? But here I am. And there you are just standing there, scared shitless.”

As Dean's words sank in, the weight of his twisted gaze making your heart pound in your chest, Sam’s hand on your back tightened slightly, as though he could feel the struggle inside you. Without a second thought, he stepped in front of you, positioning himself between you and Dean, blocking your view. His voice cut through the thick, suffocating air, firm but edged with raw emotion. "Dean, stop," Sam commanded, his words heavy with pain.

But then, something inside you—something deeper, stronger—refused to let him win. You couldn't, not without a fight. You stepped around Sam. "You’re still in there, Dean," you forced yourself to say, despite the tremor in your voice. "I know you are. I won’t let you do this." Dean's grin only widened. "You’re lying to yourself, sweetheart. There’s nothing left of me but this." His voice dropped, almost a growl now, "And this—this is what’s going to destroy you."

Your resolve hardened, and despite the absolute terror gnawing at you, you stood your ground. "You won’t destroy me Dean. Not now. Not ever." You replied, your voice much firmer now.

At the sound of the cooler snapping open, you turned just in time to see Sam pulling out the vials of blood, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken determination. His hands were steady, but you could see the weight of what he was doing pressing down on him.

"You’re gonna come back, Dean," Sam said, his voice tight with emotion, but resolute. "We’re not letting you go."

He walked towards you, the cooler of blood in his hands. Dean eyes zeroing in on it like a predator. "Really?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mock amusement as Sam set the cooler down on the table with a thud.

Sam sighed, trying to mask the frustration but failing. "For what it's worth, I got your blood type," he said, offering a sarcastic half-smile, before clearing his throat and opening the cooler.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a twisted grin. "Sam," he said, his tone low and dark, "I know you think you're gonna try and fix me, but did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to be fixed?" His gaze shifting between you and Sam. "Just let me go. Let me live my life. I won’t bother you." Dean paused, his eyes locking onto you, and his grin stretched wider. "And I pinky promise not to go after our sweet baby sis first."

Your breath caught in your throat. The fear coursed through you like ice, and your hands instinctively gripped the edge of the table. No, don’t let him see it. Don’t show him how much that scares you. But it was impossible to hide. You could feel your heart pounding, your body frozen in place as Dean's words twisted the knife further.

Sam noticed. His jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes on you, locking gazes for a brief moment, silently urging you to stay calm, to stay strong. You nodded, trying to steady your shaking breath, but it felt impossible. You could see Sam’s anger flickering behind his frustration, but he kept his attention on you, silently grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this. Sam turned back around to take his attention off of you. “Well that didn’t sound promising.”

“What do you care?” Dean asked, his gaze flicking between you and Sam, his voice dripping with mockery.

Sam’s response was sharp, almost a growl. “What do I care?” He let out a huff and rolled his eyes, disbelief dripping from his voice as he looked at Dean. He was trying to stay in control, trying not to let Dean get to him. His eyes flicked back to you, checking on you again, and in that moment, you felt the weight of his silent support. You had to hold it together—for Sam, for Dean, for everyone.

“You’re not going anywhere, Dean. Not until you’re cured and you will be cured.” You said with so much power behind your words.

Sam stepped forward, starting the ritual, but Dean’s voice cut through the tension once more, this time darker, more dangerous.

“You think I’ll sit here like Crowley and get all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don’t want this!”

Sam rolled his eyes again, frustration now boiling over. “Yeah, I think we pretty much figured that out.” His words were sharp. Dean’s gaze moved back to you. “You don’t even know if this is gonna work, do you? You know I’ve got a hell of a lot more running in me than just demon juice, sweetheart.”

Sam kept his focus on the ritual, his jaw set.

“Mark of Cain, got it,” You muttered, your voice barely more than a whisper, but there was a finality to it.

"That's right," Dean growled, his eyes burning with defiance. You glanced at Sam and saw that the syringes were ready. The tension in the air thickened. You looked back at Dean, trying to mask your fear with a heavy sigh.

"Buckle up," you said, your voice steady despite the nerves crawling under your skin.

"Baby sis, you know I hate shots," Dean muttered, his tone dripping with disdain.

You nodded, your grip tightening around the holy water bottle in your hand. "I hate demons."

As Sam took his final step toward Dean, the air seemed to crackle with the energy of the impending confrontation. Without warning, Dean’s eyes flashed black, and he lunged at Sam with a growl, desperate to stop the ritual.

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the holy water and splashed it right into his face. Dean recoiled with a howl of pain, but it was enough to give Sam the opening he needed. With swift precision, Sam drove the needle into Dean’s arm.

Dean snarled, his body convulsing with rage and discomfort. Sam was unfazed and spoke with a steady determination. “Look, we’ve got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make it a whole lot easier on yourself.” Sam’s voice was steady, but the uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Before Dean could respond, he started grunting aggressively, jerking violently against the restraints.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the look of hesitation flicker across his face, but before you could say anything, he grabbed another syringe and stabbed it into Dean’s arm. Dean writhed in pain, his eyes glaring up at Sam with unrestrained fury.

“For all you know, you could be killing me,” Dean breathed heavily, the words laced with anger.

Sam turned abruptly, slamming something down onto the table in frustration. “Or you’re just messing with me. Either way, the lore doesn’t say anything about exceptions to the cure.” His voice was firm, but the confidence never quite reached his face.

Dean chuckled darkly. “The lore,” he scoffed. “Hunters, men of letters. What a load of crap it all is.”

Sam squinted his eyes, looking him up and down, but kept quiet. “Oh, you got nothing?” He glanced at Sam, then shifted his attention to you. “What about you, sweetheart?”

You gulped, the fear creeping up on you, but you forced the words out. “This isn’t the real you even talking.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s the real me, all right.” His voice dropped, becoming colder, darker. “The new real me. The me that sees things for what they really are.”

The air around him seemed to pulse with something dark, something raw. His eyes locked onto you, and you felt a cold chill crawl down your spine.

“And I can see what you really are. You’re absolutely terrified,” he continued, his voice dripping with venom. “You thought I’d be broken—but I’m not. This is me now. And you? You’re just another casualty. You’re going to burn, slowly and painfully—just like our mommy you never got to know.”

Your eyes widened in absolute shock at the threat and the mention of your mother, shocked he could even think of such a thing. His gaze flickered over you, studying your reaction with a twisted satisfaction. "I could make you beg for death, you know. You think I’m still Dean in here, but he’s long gone. And you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize that."

Dean’s laugh was low, a sound that sent a jolt of dread through your body. “You can’t save me. And you can’t save yourself, either. I’ll make sure of that. But hey, maybe I’ll keep you alive for a while, let you watch it all fall apart. Maybe make you beg for death? Won’t that be fun?”

The venom in his words stung like poison, and it took every ounce of strength not to crumble in front of him. He could see it—the fear was written all over your face, and he was savoring it. He wanted to break you, and deep down, you knew he was capable of it.

Your breath was shallow, and panic bubbled up in your chest, threatening to overflow. The room felt suffocating. Your world began to blur, and you could feel your knees shaking beneath you. “I’ll make you scream! I’ll make you beg for death and watch as you choke on your own blood!” He screamed at you who was frozen in fear. Sam, enraged, stormed toward Dean. His eyes were filled with a fury that only came from seeing someone he loved in pain. Without hesitation, he jabbed the next syringe into Dean’s neck.

Dean screamed, a sound so raw and guttural that it made you jump, your entire body trembling with fear. It felt like the world around you was falling apart.

Sam threw the syringe on the table, turning away from Dean. The tension in the room was unbearable, the air thick with dread. Dean’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and mocking.

“Let me ask you this. If this doesn’t work—you both know what you got to do to me, right?” His voice was cold, menacing. “You got the stomach for that, Sam?! Because I know Y/N doesn’t!”

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of nausea rising in your chest. His words felt like a punch, each one more suffocating than the last. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your knees buckled as you rushed out of the room, your mind spinning, your heart pounding. You gasped for air, your chest tight, and the world around you felt like it was blurring together. The threats, the fear, the helplessness—it was all too much. You couldn’t bear to hear any more. You couldn’t bear to be here.

The weakness weighed too heavy on you. The fear was too real. You stumbled down the hall, desperate for air, desperate for a moment where you didn’t feel like you were drowning. You were spiraling, every breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps as your body shook uncontrollably. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the walls closing in around you. Your hands scrambled for stability from the walls, but they felt foreign, unreal, slipping away from you as if nothing could anchor you. Your heart pounded so violently that it drowned out everything else. The world was blurring, and you couldn’t stop it. You screamed in panic, the noise getting strangled in your throat, swallowed by the terror that was overtaking you. You were shaking so hard, your body threatening to collapse under the weight of the fear. Your breath was ragged, each inhale burning, like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs. Your legs buckled beneath you, but you didn’t fall. You clung to the walls, nails digging into the surface as if they could keep you from falling apart. Tears streamed down your face, and you didn’t know how to stop them.

Then, suddenly, Sam was there, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against him. His presence was grounding, but it didn’t stop the panic raging inside you. You trembled against him, clinging to his shirt, your fists clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away into the terror.

“Shh, I’m here. You’re safe, okay? You’re safe,” Sam’s voice was soft but firm, filled with that quiet steadiness you knew and trusted. But it felt so distant through the haze of panic that surrounded you.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The fear suffocated you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t catch your breath. “I can’t—Sam, I can’t—” You gasped, clutching harder, the terror building, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

Sam held you tighter, his hands gently guiding your shaky arms around him as he spoke again, more urgently this time. “Breathe, okay? I need you to breathe with me. In through your nose, slow. You’re okay. I’m right here.” His words were calm, but his voice betrayed how upset he was, how desperately he was trying to keep you from falling into the abyss of panic.

But you couldn’t. The fear was overwhelming, and every breath felt like it was ripping you apart. “I can’t,” you sobbed, your chest heaving. “I can’t breathe, Sam. I can’t...” You were sobbing so hard now, shaking violently, your body convulsing in his arms. “I can’t. He’s going to kill us... Sam, he said it himself. He said it—he’s going to—”

Sam’s eyes widened in horror as your words hit him like a punch. His grip tightened on you, his hands holding your face gently, forcing you to look at him. “No, no, no. Look at me. Look at me.” His voice cracked with emotion, raw and full of pain as he tried to steady you. “He’s not going to touch you. I swear to you. I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The weight of your fear crashed down on you, but you could barely hear him through the fog of panic. “He said it... he said he was going to kill us... I can’t— Oh my God! He’s going to kill me... I can’t—I can’t—”

“No,” Sam interrupted, his voice low but filled with an undeniable certainty. He gripped your shoulders, his thumbs gently brushing the tear-streaked skin of your face. “He’s not going to hurt you. You hear me? And you’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not going to die.”

You shook your head, but the words didn’t make sense. The terror was louder than anything else, drowning out everything he was saying. But Sam wasn’t giving up. His hands were on you, steadying you, grounding you. His voice was insistent, unwavering. “Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, slow. You’re okay. You’re safe. You can do this. You’re strong enough to do this. In through your nose... slow... just like that. I’m right here.”

You tried, you really did. But the air still felt thick, like you couldn’t get enough in. You gasped, shaking so violently you thought you might break.

Sam didn’t let go. He cupped your cheeks, his breath steady and warm against your skin. “I’m right here with you. You can breathe. You can breathe. I promise you’re going to be okay.”

His voice, so calm, so grounded, started to break through the haze of panic just a little. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and strong. Your hands loosened their grip on his shirt, though you still clung to him, desperate for anything to keep you from falling apart.

Slowly, shakily, you tried to breathe. It wasn’t perfect, but the tremors in your chest started to ease just a fraction.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, barely able to get the words out through the rawness in your throat. "I couldn’t handle it, Sammy. I thought I could… I really did. But he—" You cut yourself off with another sob, pressing your face into his chest, your fingers still clutching his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. He didn’t try to pull away or tell you to stop, just held you through the storm. His hand stroked your hair gently, his fingers brushing your skin with an almost tender urgency, as though he couldn’t bear to see you so broken.

"He scared me," you whispered again, voice broken, barely audible as you clung to him, feeling like a piece of you was slipping away with each word. “I couldn’t stop the fear... I thought I could keep it together, but I... I couldn’t. I’m so sorry." Your voice cracked on the last part, the weight of it pressing down on you like a thousand tons.

Sam pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression full of concern and something deeper, something that wasn’t just about fear, but understanding. "Don’t apologize," he said softly, his voice so gentle yet filled with an unmistakable strength. "You don’t have to be sorry. What he said... what he did... It should have scared you. It was pure evil."

You shook your head, still unable to stop the tears. "I should’ve been stronger. I—I thought I could handle it. I thought I could... but I wasn’t ready, Sam. I wasn’t ready for it. I—"

Sam cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes soft but firm. "Hey, listen to me," he whispered, his voice low but filled with an unwavering confidence. "You are strong. You’re stronger than you think. You don’t have to apologize. We’re going to get through this, I promise."

His voice held a certainty that slowly, almost imperceptibly, started to sink into your bones.

You closed your eyes, leaning into him again, feeling a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you were missing. He held you for a moment longer, his hands gently brushing through your hair, offering silent comfort. When you finally pulled away, his eyes softened, filled with concern, but there was a quiet determination there too. "Listen, I think you need a little time. Clear your head. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. If you need to get away from this, it’s okay." You blinked up at him, trying to process his words, still shaken but feeling just a little steadier than before. Sam reached for your hands, squeezing them gently. "I’ll be here, with Dean. If you feel ready to come back, you’ll know where to find us." You nodded slowly, taking in a shaky breath as you turned away, your feet carrying you toward the hallway. But as you walked, your steps faltered when you reached Dean’s door. The place that once felt like a refuge, where you and Dean would laugh, talk, and find solace in each other’s company. Now, it felt cold, distant, like something you couldn’t touch. But despite the overwhelming fear still gripping your chest, you needed to be there. You needed a piece of him, something to hold onto, even if it was just the remnants of the past.

With shaky hands, you pushed the door open, the familiar scent of Dean’s cologne filling the air. You didn’t bother to turn on the light. The dim glow from the hallway illuminated the room.

You walked in slowly, your legs weak beneath you as if the weight of everything was too much to carry. Your eyes glanced around at the cluttered room, the remnants of his life still scattered about: a jacket thrown over a chair, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, a few books stacked haphazardly on the dresser. It all felt so wrong.

But you couldn’t stop. You needed this.

Without a word, you collapsed onto the bed, a cry escaping from your chest before you even realized it. The sound was raw, desperate, like a broken thing struggling to survive. You buried your face in the sheets, clinging to them as if they could hold you together. But the weight of it was too much.

The tears came once again—hard and unrelenting, flooding your face, soaking the bed beneath you. You couldn’t stop. You just couldn’t. The grief tore through you like a storm, leaving you empty and hollow. Every sob was a reminder that the man you loved was gone. Every gasp for air felt like it was being ripped from your lungs, suffocated by the weight of what had happened.

Dean wasn’t here anymore. Dean was gone, and all that was left was this twisted version, this monster wearing his face, mocking you. The pain was too much to bear. Your body shook violently as the sobs racked through you, each cry coming out like a wounded animal, a desperate plea to make it stop.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? How could someone you trusted with your whole heart become someone you were terrified of?

You curled up tighter on the bed, pressing your face deeper into the pillow, as if you could disappear into it, as if you could escape the crushing pain that consumed you.

You felt your body tremble with exhaustion, but you didn’t care. You didn’t know how long you lay there, your body wracked with sobs, lost in a fog of despair. Time had no meaning anymore. There was nothing but the endless ache, the never-ending stream of tears.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you and you fell into deep nothingness.

Hours later, Sam walked through the door, his footsteps heavy, weighed down by the crushing reality of everything that had happened. He didn’t expect to find you here. But when he saw you, curled up on Dean’s bed, he stopped in his tracks.

The sight of you, so small and vulnerable sent a deep ache through him. It was as if you were seeking refuge in the last place where you felt safe, but now that place was empty—Dean was gone.

Sam’s breath hitched as he slowly walked toward you, trying to make himself as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb the fragile silence. The sight of you—so broken, so lost—was almost too much for him to bear.

He stood there for a long moment, watching you, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He knew how raw you were, and he didn’t want to make it worse.

Instead, he quietly moved to Dean’s dresser, pulling open the drawers, his eyes landing on old photos. There were pictures of the three of them—of Dean, Sam, and you—smiling, laughing, being a family. The images were so painfully full of life, so full of warmth, and now they felt like a cruel reminder of everything they had lost. Sam swallowed hard, his heart aching in his chest as he sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the photos in his hands, trying to cling to the reminder of who Dean really was.

As he adjusted his position, his knee brushed against you, and your eyes shot open. You jerked awake, panic immediately flooding your system. Your breathing hitched as you looked around, disoriented, your wild eyes landing on Sam.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Sam said gently, his voice calm and soothing as he saw the fear in your eyes. He reached out, his hand hovering near your leg. “It’s Sam. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

For a moment, you couldn’t process what was happening, where you were. Your heart racing with fear, but then you realized it was Sam.

"Sammy?" You whispered hoarsely, your voice cracking with the remnants of your tears. The moment you spoke, Sam’s expression softened, and his hand moved instinctively, rubbing your knee in a gentle motion.

"Yeah, I’m here," he replied softly, his voice full of that familiar warmth, but there was an undeniable pain beneath it. His thumb traced small circles on your knee, the touch meant to comfort, but you could feel his heart breaking, too.

You blinked, still trying to piece together what was happening, and finally asked, “What’s going on?” He slowly extended the photos toward you. You took them from him, your hands trembling as you looked down at the first picture. It was of the three of you—laughing around a campfire, Dean’s arm around you, Sam’s goofy grin plastered on his face. You ran your fingers over the edges of the photo, the memory of that day so vivid in your mind. “I remember this,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “We ended up by that campfire and it was perfect. I remember feeling so... free.”

Sam smiled faintly, his own gaze distant. “Yeah. We were just... being us. No monsters, no threats, no worry. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeated, almost in disbelief, as if the simplicity of it was too much to hold onto.

Sam gave a soft chuckle, the memory clearly bringing him comfort, but the sadness in his eyes remained. “You kept teasing Dean because his marshmallows were burnt. You’d pretend to be all disgusted, but we both knew it was because you wanted his.”

A small, bitter laugh slipped from your lips, despite the overwhelming pain. You had forgotten about that. “You know me too well,” you murmured. “I always acted like I didn’t want anything to do with those burnt marshmallows, but I couldn’t resist them. Dean always made them with the perfect crisp.”

“You loved it,” Sam teased softly, a slight twinkle in his eye, though it didn’t quite reach the depth of his sadness.

You both fell into a moment of silence, the memories hanging between you like a fragile thread, so easily snapped by the weight of everything that had changed. Sam flipped through another photo, gently lifting another picture from the stack.

It was a candid shot, taken on a long drive. You were sleeping in the backseat of the Impala, curled up in the corner, your head resting against the window. Your hair was tousled, and you looked so peaceful, a soft expression on your face that spoke of all the exhaustion you’d been carrying.

Sam’s lips curled into a sad smile as he looked down at the picture. “You used to fall asleep so easily.”

You looked at the picture for a moment, the memory of that time rushing back. “I used to be able to sleep anywhere, didn’t I?” You said softly. “I’d fall asleep in the back of the car, on the floor of the motel room... anywhere. It didn’t matter, as long as you guys were there.”

Sam nodded, his eyes softening. “Yeah. And Dean would always make sure you were comfortable, even if it meant giving up his seat or letting you sleep in the front.”

Your throat tightened as you looked at the photo again, feeling the pang of longing for simpler days. "He always took care of me," you whispered, the words barely audible. "Even when things were rough, he made sure I was taken care of."

Sam’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn't say anything for a moment. He turned to the next photo, his fingers brushing over the surface, as if the memories were too much for words.

This one was from another time, a shot of the three of you standing in front of the Impala, the sun setting behind you, casting long shadows on the ground. You were all leaning casually against the car, smiles on your faces as you took a break after another long day. There was something about the photo that captured a moment of calmness, like you could take a breath and believe that everything would be okay.

“That was the summer we finally took a real break,” Sam murmured, almost to himself. “We didn’t have a hunt for a few weeks. Just… time together. I remember feeling like that moment could last forever.”

You smiled at the memory, but the happiness it brought was bittersweet. “We didn’t know how rare those moments would be. It’s like we thought we could escape it all, just for a little while.”

“And we did,” Sam said softly, his voice laced with a quiet sorrow. “Even if it was just for a moment, we were free. We were happy.”

You let out a long sigh, turning your attention to the next photo. It was a picture of the three of you standing by a creek, Sam holding up a fish he had caught. Dean was laughing, looking more carefree than you had seen in years. You were standing between them, holding a fishing rod in one hand, a playful grin on your face.

“We almost didn’t catch anything that day,” Sam chuckled, remembering. “But we didn’t care. It was just nice to be out there.”

You nodded, a soft, smirk on your lips. “We spent hours there and I was the only one that caught a fish.”

Sam let out a chuckle, his finger lingering on the edge of the photo. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You felt the familiar ache in your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the memories or the overwhelming pain that had been gnawing at you for so long.

“I miss it,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I miss when we were all okay. When we weren’t broken.”

Sam gently put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “We’re still here,” he said, his voice steady, though the pain was clear in his eyes. “And we’re going to get through this.”

You leaned into Sam's embrace, taking a deep breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you.

“I know we will,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “You’re not going to stop, Sam. You won’t stop until he’s back. And I won’t stop either. I’ll fight for him. For both of you. For our family.”

Sam looked down at you, his hand resting on your arm for a brief moment. The look in his eyes softened, but there was still a flicker of sadness there.

“You always know just what to say,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But then, it faltered, as if the weight of the situation caught up with him again. “I need to go give Dean more blood. Just... hang in there, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m going to flip through a few more photos and then I’m going to face him again. I’m ready, we’re going to get him back, Sammy.”

Sam gave you a long, searching look, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and pain. He squeezed your shoulder gently, his thumb brushing over your skin like he was trying to convey all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. “You’re stronger than you know,” he said softly, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He let out a shaky breath, forcing a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned and walked out the door.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the photos, the memories, and the overwhelming determination to get your brother back.

You sat in the quiet room, the silence only broken by the soft rustle of photos as you flipped through them. Each one was a little piece of the past, and you couldn’t help but get lost in them, memories flooding back of moments when life felt simpler, when your family wasn’t shattered. You smiled softly at a few, some of you, Sam, and Dean as kids, others of the three of you laughing on the road. Dean’s arm was always around you, a silent protector.

But as time went on, the smiles faded, the weight of the present settling in. You flipped through more photos, trying to hold onto something, anything, to remind you that you hadn’t lost it all.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the bunker shifted.

The steady hum of the bunker’s lights flickered, and you froze, a chill crawling up your spine. The steady silence was broken by the shrill, jarring sound of the alarm. It was blaring through the entire place, and the lights flashed red, casting the entire room in an eerie glow. Your breath caught in your throat as the ground seemed to vibrate with urgency.

The bunker was on lockdown.

A feeling of dread washed over you, the panic rising as you glanced toward the door. You could hear the buzz of the alarm reverberating through the walls, a constant reminder that something was wrong. Something had happened, and you weren’t sure what.

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest, the photos scattering around you as you rushed toward the door. The bunker had never gone on lockdown unless something major was going down—something serious.

And that’s when you realized. Whatever was happening, it was happening now.

Your mind raced with thoughts of Sam, of Dean, of everything that was slipping out of control. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts, but the alarm kept ringing in your ears, pressing in on you.

Your thoughts spiraled as you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the hallway.

No. No, no.

The voice you dreaded pierced through the growing panic like a blade.

“Smart Sam!” Dean's voice echoed, rough and cold. “Put the bunker on lockdown!” His tone was sharp, filled with menace, and it only made your heart race faster, a deep, primal fear clawing at your chest. “I hope you have our sweet baby sister with you because if I find her first…” He trailed off chuckling darkly.

You froze, paralyzed by the sound, your mind scrambling for what to do. A pit of dread opened in your stomach.

The realization hit you all at once. Dean—demon Dean—was loose. The man you trusted, the man who practically raised you, was no longer the one who would protect you. He was the one you had to run from.

Panic rose in your throat as you rushed to make a decision. There was no time. He was close, and you could hear his mocking tone as he stomped down the hall, getting closer. In a moment of sheer instinct, you crouched low, hiding under his bed. You held your breath, praying he wouldn’t find you, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t look here.

The footsteps grew louder, and then—crash. The door to his room was flung open with a violent force. You flinched, pressing yourself further against the cool floorboards, your heart pounding so loudly you thought it might give you away. The door slammed against the wall, the sound reverberating through the bunker, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to stay silent.

Dean’s voice, dripping with dark amusement, broke the silence.

“Well, well, well…” His tone was twisted, mocking, like he was savoring the moment. "Looks like little sister has been rummaging through my stuff. I should've known you'd come crawling back here.”

You could hear him moving around the room, his footsteps heavy as he paced, no doubt seeing the scattered photos that littered the floor, the ones you had been looking through. The ones that meant so much to you. The memories of a time when Dean had been the brother you could count on. His laughter. His warmth. That was all gone now.

He snorted, his voice oozing with cruelty. “You really think you can hide from me, sweetheart?”

You felt every word like a punch to the gut. His presence was suffocating, and the room felt colder, darker with every word that came out of his mouth.

He paused, and for a split second, you thought he was going to leave. But then the sound of his heavy breathing grew louder, closer. He was right near the bed now.

"What's the matter?" His voice dropped lower, taunting. "Too scared to come out and face me, kiddo?"

Your chest tightened, each breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything but stay hidden, the weight of terror pinning you in place.

Then, you heard him bend down, the sound of his hands brushing against the floor. He was too close. The next thing you knew, you could feel his gaze on the edge of the bed, your pulse skyrocketing.

“I know you’re here,” Dean sneered, the sound of his voice creeping along your spine like ice.

A cruel chuckle escaped his lips, the sound as dark and chilling as the red lights flashing through the room. "I think you should come out, sweetheart. Come out and let me see that pretty little face of yours." His voice dripped with venom. "Come on, I promise I wont make you beg for death for too long.“

You fought the urge to scream, fighting every ounce of fear that racked your body. “I’ll be gentle and maybe make it a little quicker than I originally intended… maybe.” He taunted, before moving away from the bed completely.

Then the sound of his boots echoed out of the room and down the hallway. He chuckled darkly, the laughter booming off the walls. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, baby sis. I just wanna play. Don’t you miss your big brother?"

You heard the soft thump of his boots retreating further down the hall, the distant echo of his voice mocking you. Now’s your chance.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to focus, listening for his movements to die down. “Sammy! Once I find our sister—Oh! You’ll wish I never had.” He screamed down the hall. You jumped in fright from under the bed as the sound of his voice faded into the distance.

Finally, you heard the familiar creak of the floorboards in the hallway, followed by silence.

The coast had to be clear.

With a soft breath, you pushed yourself out from under the bed, crawling on your hands and knees, barely daring to make a sound. The darkness seemed to stretch around you as you moved towards the door, your heart hammering in your chest.

The hall was empty. You held your breath and moved quickly, praying he wouldn’t hear you. You had to find Sam and get the hell out of this nightmare. You turned the corner, heart pounding in your throat, the brief moment of freedom fading as you collided hard with Dean’s chest. The impact knocked you to the floor and the breath left your lungs. You looked up and was met with his cold dark eyes and subtle smirk which only grew more as you tried scrambling away from him on the floor. “No, no, no, no, no,” you whispered, your voice trembling in pure terror. That's when your eyes caught sight of the hammer in his hand—twirling slowly, almost gleefully, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light as he grinned down at you. “No! Dean, no, please!” You shrieked as you turned and clawed desperately at the floor to get away, your fingers scraping against the cold surface, each movement frantic, full of pure terror. Every inch you gained felt like a victory, but with each breath, you knew Dean was right behind you, enjoying your struggle. You needed to escape. You had to. As soon as you pulled yourself off the floor, you felt it.

A cold, iron grip closed around your ankle.

“NO!” You screamed, thrashing with a force you didn’t even know you had. You kicked, you twisted, you screamed—every muscle in your body locked in pure, unrelenting panic. Your heart raced as if it were about to tear itself from your chest, each shriek more frantic than the last.

Dean dragged you back, hard, and your body slammed into the floor with a sickening thud, the impact rattling your bones, the air knocked from your lungs in a painful gasp, and a horrible crack came from your head. The world around you spun for a moment, and then all that was left was the terror—him, his grip, his presence—everything closing in on you. You felt the cold floor against your cheek, felt your body slacken for a second, but it only fueled your panic more.

“Please, don’t! Please!” You screamed, your voice wild, hoarse, the sound of your cries raw and desperate. “Please don’t do it! Please—please, Dean, I’m begging you, please!” You tried to claw your way away again, but it was no use. Every time you moved, he was there, pulling you back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. “Please, Dean! Sammy, help! Please, help me!” You screamed, your voice echoing through the bunker.

Dean’s laugh was low, dark, a twisted sound that sent ice running through your veins. “Sammy’s a little held up right now.” He smirked, knowing the trap he put Sam in so that he could get to you. The hammer glinted in his hand, a cold, mocking glimmer that reflected the red lights overhead. “It’s just you and me, kid. Well until Sammy sees your little body lying here lifeless. Oh, he’s going to be devastated when he finds you… well only until I also finish him off.” Your body trembled in terror as your gaze locked onto his weapon, and you could feel the world around you closing in tighter with each passing second.

“PLEASE, DEAN, DON’T—!” The scream ripped from your throat, echoing down the hallway like a cry for mercy, but there was no mercy. There was nothing but the chilling smile on his face as he stared down at you, that cruel gleam in his eyes, his hand tightening on your leg.

“You should’ve stayed hidden,” he said, his voice low, mocking, as if he was savoring every second of your terror. “You never learn, do you?”

You kicked again, harder this time, desperate, but his grip was unrelenting. Tears flooded your eyes, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. “No... no, please... no...” you pleaded, but your words were barely coherent through the sobs. The fear coursing through you was overwhelming, suffocating. Dean didn’t care. His grip tightened around you, and you winced, feeling the pressure like a vice. “Begging me won’t help you,” he spat, voice dripping with venom. “You think that’s gonna save you?” He dragged you roughly toward him, his lips curling into a grin that was nothing but pure malice. “You think crying is gonna get you out of this?” He breathed his hot breath on your face. You were shaking, your body locked in a full-body tremor of fear. Your head was spinning, your heart pounding, and with every breath, it felt as if you were sinking deeper into a nightmare you couldn’t escape. “No, please, please, Dean,” you whimpered, struggling against his hold. The more you begged, the more twisted Dean’s expression became, savoring every ounce of your fear. His hand shot out suddenly, grabbing the back of your head and slamming it down onto the floor with brutal force. Your vision blurred from the impact, pain radiating through your skull, but Dean only laughed—low and sick. His face got closer to you this time, "Don’t think for a second that you’re in control here," he snarled. The hammer twirled in his hand again, slow, deliberate. Each spin was a reminder of the power he had over you. You tried to move, to escape, but your body was shaking too violently, too weak to fight back. “S-s’mmy Please.” You managed to squeak out, but it was barely above a whisper. Dean leaned down over you, his grin wide and predatory. His voice was almost a purr now, but there was nothing sweet about it. "You think anyone cares? You think Sam cares? No... no, sweetheart. No one’s saving you." You screamed, your voice a raw shriek of pure terror as you thrashed beneath him. Dean’s grip loosened completely before you felt his hands wrap around your throat. He tightened them with a suffocating weight. Your breaths gasped as you hands slapped weakly against his chest. "Okay..." Dean whispered, drawing out the words like a dark lullaby, "Let’s see if you can beg now."

This was it. You were going to die. You were going to die at the hands of your brother. The man who always protected you and cared for you.

You stared into his cold eyes as you felt yours start to drift off. But, just before your world went completely dark, the crushing weight was lifted off of you. You turned over and sucked in a desperate breath when you felt hands on your shoulders. You cried out a horrific rasp, flinching away, but Sam’s soft voice cut through the haze. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. Its Sam. It’s Sammy. Look at me, okay? Please, just look at me.” His voice cracked, raw with worry, but there was urgency, a trembling desperation you had never heard before. You could barely lift your head. Every breath felt like it might be your last. You gasped, wheezed, every inhale tearing through your lungs, each one harder than the last.

“Can you breathe?” Sam’s tone was filled with panic as he cupped your face. He frantically scanned your face and saw the blood, the cuts, and the way your body trembled. His stomach twisted with a sickening feeling. His thumb wiped away the blood from your temple, but you could feel the tremble in his touch. “Hey, can you breathe?” He asked urgently in one last desperate plea for an answer.

You clutched at your chest, fighting for just one more breath. “S’mmy?” You managed to rasp, your vision blurred and unfocused.

"Yeah, baby, it’s me. It’s me, but I need you to breathe," Sam reassured you softly, cupping your face and lifting your chin up so you could have better access to your airways. “Breathe with me, okay? Slow, deep breaths, sweetheart. In... and out. You’re okay, just focus on me.”

Your body shook with the effort, your chest burning, the air too thin, but Sam’s voice—soft, insistent, like he couldn’t bear to see you struggle any longer—pushed you to focus. "In through your nose, baby, just like I’m doing, slow and deep. You can do this. You’re going to breathe. I need you to do this with me. Please."

You tried to follow his rhythm, desperate to calm the storm raging inside of you. Slowly, each breath came a little easier, though it felt like your body fought against every ounce of effort. You sucked in another shaky breath, and for the first time, you felt the pressure in your chest lift just a fraction. One breath. One more...

And then you heard it.

A scream. Raw. Full of agony. It echoed in your ears, tearing through the fragile calm Sam’s voice had built. You forced your eyes open and jolted up. You body exhumed the last bit of energy it had to see the scene before you which made your blood run cold.

Dean was locked in Castiel’s unyielding grip, his body thrashing violently against the angel’s strength. Cas’s hands were tight around Dean’s arms, dragging him away, his expression unreadable, but his hold relentless. Dean’s voice cracked, a mixture of rage and pain, as he screamed and grunted, trying to fight back with every ounce of strength. His feet scraped against the ground as he was dragged farther from you, but it was useless.

"Sam..." You barely whispered the word, the terror creeping back into your chest. Your heart lurched at the sight.

“No, no, no...” Sam’s voice trembled with panic, his grip tightening on you as if he were afraid you might shatter into pieces. He turned your face back to him, forcing you to focus. "Look at me, please. Focus on me. Don’t look at them."

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t look away from Dean. You could see the fight in his eyes, the desperation, the disbelief that Cas—Cas—was doing this. Dean’s face twisted with a mix of fury, his body jerking as he screamed for freedom, but nothing he did seemed to matter. The angel dragged him away, like he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

You let out a loud painful strangled sob that got caught in your throat.

“Hey!” Sam’s voice broke like glass, desperation thick in the air. His thumb brushed your cheek, but it was frantic, not soothing. “Look at me.” His words were raw, pleading, a cry in the storm. "I’m right here, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe."

His voice cracked again, his words thick with fear, and you saw it—real fear in his eyes. Sam, always the strong one, always the rock, was unraveling, torn apart by the sight of you—of Dean—and there was nothing he could do.

Dean’s screams echoed in the background, and you felt the tremor in Sam’s hand as he held you, his entire body trembling with the weight of what was happening. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You tried to focus on Sam. Just Sam. His face was so close now, eyes searching yours, lips moving in a desperate whisper. “You’re safe. You’re with me. I’m not leaving you. I’m so sorry.”

Each breath felt like it might be your last, but you tried, for Sam. You focused on him, on the sound of his voice, his presence anchoring you. Dean’s cries still echoed, but Sam was your anchor. Sam was all that mattered. And slowly, just slowly, your breath began to steady.

“Good girl,” Sam murmured softly, his voice thick with relief. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

He was practically holding you up so he gently guided your back to the wall so he could check you over. Your body felt broken, bruised, but Sam was there—strong, steady, never leaving your side.

His touch was tender, but there was an edge of urgency to it, as if he needed to make sure you were really here, really okay.

“Let me check your head,” Sam said softly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of a concussion. His fingers gently probed your skull, checking for bumps or bruises. You winced, a sharp gasp escaping you, as he touched the sensitive area at the back of your head. Sam’s eyes darkened with helpless fear.

"Sorry, sorry, baby, I know that hurts," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "But I have to check, I need to make sure you’re okay." His words were strained, his hand hovering over your head, checking for swelling, for damage.

The dull throb of your head making it harder to focus. “M’head... hurts,” you rasped, your voice barely audible.

“I know, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, his face tight with concern.

You tried to shift, to sit up more, but the pressure in your neck made your entire body scream in agony, and your hand instinctively shot up to your throat.

“No, don’t touch it, sweetheart.” Sam’s voice broke like glass, and you felt his hand gently pull yours away from your neck.

He was trying to keep you still, but you could feel the weight of his panic pushing against the calm he was trying to create. Sam’s hands were already covered in your blood, but he wasn’t hesitating. His fingers brushing against the swelling bruises. His breath caught as he saw the darkening marks, the deepening shade of purple and blue spreading over your throat. He pressed lightly, as gently as he could, but the discomfort in your eyes was enough for him to stop. His expression twisted with a mix of anger and worry, but his voice stayed soft, steady as he leaned in close to you.

"You’re swelling." His thumb brushed against your skin, his face pale with panic.

Your hand instinctively tried to reach for your neck again, but Sam’s grip on your wrist was firm. "No, no, please don’t touch it," he pleaded as his mind raced on what to do next.

Everything hurt. Every inch of your body felt bruised, torn, like you’d been beaten to the edge of your life. Your face was covered in blood, your head was throbbing with every heartbeat, and your neck—your neck felt like it was on fire, swollen and tender beneath your touch. You couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped your chest.

Sam’s hands were shaking as he carefully wiped away the blood from your face. His touch was tender, but there was an edge to it, the frantic urgency of someone who couldn’t bear to see you in pain, couldn’t bear how fragile you looked in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmured, his voice low and full of sorrow. "I’m so sorry... I just need to make sure you’re okay. Just a little more, okay?"

He slowly ran his hands over your face, carefully checking the cuts, making sure none of the injuries were too deep. The blood kept flowing, soaking into his fingers, and you could see the horror in his eyes as he noticed how much you were losing.

“Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be alright.” His words were ragged, like they were being pulled out of him like he didn’t believe a word he was saying, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let you know how bad it really was.

You noticed the way his body was rigid, like he was fighting to hold it together. His face was strained, his jaw tight, but he wasn’t letting up.

“You’re strong,” Sam whispered to you, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re so strong. Just breathe, baby. Please, just breathe for me."

His hand finally pressed against the back of your neck, gently massaging the swelling to ease the pain, but you could hear the terror in his voice. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Sam whispered again, his lips close to your ear. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it through this.”

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, trying to hold it together for you. But, he’d never seen you like this, broken and bruised, the light in your eyes dimmed by the trauma you’d endured at the hands of someone you loved. His protective instincts screamed in agony, but there was nothing more he could do here. His mind was already racing, searching for any possible way to make things right. Maybe Cas could help.

“I need to grab Cas, alright? Just hold on, I’m coming right back,” Sam said, his voice strained as he quickly got up. The panic clear in his eyes and his movements frantic.

You nodded weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open as exhaustion weighed down on you like a heavy blanket. Just before Sam turned his gaze from you, he noticed them threatening to close. “Hey, no! I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay?!” He pleaded. You widened your eyes and nodded. “I’ll be two seconds don’t you dare close them!” He shouted as he practically ran down the hallway to where Cas was restraining Dean. Cas walked away from Dean, his eyes locked eyes on Sam’s disheveled presence. “How is she Sam?” He asked, worriedly. Sam breathed out speaking low enough so Dean couldn’t hear, but urgently enough for Cas to understand the extent of it. “She’s in bad shape, Cas. I don’t know what to do. He—he choked her and beat her pretty badly. I just... I need you.” Sam pleaded and Cas nodded. “I’m still not at my full grace. I can help a little bit, ease the pain, but she will need to rest to make a full recovery.” He said, his expression as serious as ever. Without wasting a second, they made their way back towards you, Sam trailing behind Cas. Your eyes were still open, struggling to focus, as Cas knelt beside you. His fingers brushed gently over your bruised neck as he carefully examined the damage.

"Cas?" You whimpered, your voice weak and trembling.

“Yes, it’s me,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. His grace swirled around you, and for the first time since everything had happened, you felt a small bit of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stop the constant pounding in your head.

You felt a warm energy washing over you, a peace settling deep within. The swelling in your neck began to subside, and the pain that had been gnawing at your body seemed to dull a little with each passing moment.

Sam stood off to the side, watching with wide eyes, a mixture of awe and desperation flickering across his face. Cas' healing grace was a blessing, but Sam knew that no matter how much healing Cas could provide, the mental and emotional scars would remain far longer.

After a few minutes, Cas pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern. “You should feel a little better. Rest, you’ll still need time to fully recover.”

Sam gave a silent nod of thanks to the angel, his eyes never leaving you. “Thank you, Cas,” he said quietly.

As Cas nodded in acknowledgment, you clung to his arm, your grip tightening slightly as you looked up at him. “Thank you, Cas. For everything.” He sent you a sad smile, his eyes full of empathy, knowing you were still trembling in fear, but unable to do anything about the mental scars you now carried.

“You’re going to be okay,” he reassured you softly. You nodded, fully believing the angel’s words, trusting in the comfort he had given you.

The silence stretched on for a moment, but the tension in the air was palpable. Sam shifted uneasily, glancing at you, then at Cas. “Cas, about Dean…” Sam trailed off, his voice tight, unsure of how to continue. His eyes flicked back to you, concern flickering there before he spoke again. “How is he?”

Cas took a slow breath, his expression softening with the weight of the situation. “He’s restrained for now. I believe the cure will work, Sam. We just need time.”

The mention of Dean sent a jolt of tension through your body, and you instinctively shrank back slightly, the thought of Dean still being lost in the grip of the demon unsettling you more than you expected. Sam noticed, his eyes softening with a silent promise to protect you.

“You okay?” Sam asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He crouched beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder in reassurance.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The emotions swirling inside of you were overwhelming, but you couldn’t bear to let them out now, not in front of them.

Sam gave you a reassuring nod, though his worry never fully left his face. “I’m gonna take care of you. You need to get some rest, okay?” He paused, glancing toward Cas. “I’ll be there with you in a second Cas just let me get her cleaned up and in bed first.”

Cas nodded and filled with the quiet certainty that only he could offer. “Rest now Y/N. We will do everything we can for Dean.”

Sam gave a small, appreciative nod to Cas as he left the room, then Sam turned back to you.

His hand was now on your shoulder, supporting you. “How are you feeling now?” He asked softly.

“I’m... better,” you whispered, though your voice was strained, hoarse from everything you’d been through.

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Come on,” Sam said softly, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded, the exhaustion written all over your face. You weren’t sure you had the strength to do it on your own, but Sam was there, steady and unwavering, as he guided you toward the bathroom. His hand was warm against your back, supportive, but his touch was careful, mindful of your pain.

When you reached the bathroom, Sam opened the door and flipped the light on, the soft hum of the fluorescent light filling the silence. He stood there for a moment, watching you as if making sure you were okay, that you weren’t about to collapse. Then, with a quiet sigh, he moved to the shower.

“I’ll run the water for you,” he said quietly, adjusting the temperature, his fingers nimble as they twisted the faucet. “Just... take your time, alright? I’ll be right outside the door.”

You were so tired, so worn down, but Sam’s presence was a small comfort. It gave you the strength to move forward. He grabbed a towel from the linen closet and placed it on the counter, then found a pair of his sweatpants and a sweatshirt. They were oversized, but they would fit. He folded them carefully and set them next to the towel.

“Here you go,” Sam said, his voice softer now. “I’ll leave them right here for you.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be okay. The last thing he wanted was to leave you alone when you were so fragile. But you needed this time to yourself. To breathe.

“I’ll be right outside. Just call for me if you need anything,” Sam added, his voice tinged with that protective tone he always used, the one that made you feel safe, no matter what.

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes, your throat tight from the raw emotions still swirling inside you. “Thank you, Sam,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He offered a soft, strained smile, his hand lingering on the door handle for a moment. “Of course,” he said simply, his eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be right here.”

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him. You leaned against the counter for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on you. It was hard to feel anything other than exhaustion, but Sam had been your anchor through it all, and his care meant more than you could express.

As the warm water began to fill the shower, you let the steam rise around you, trying to relax under the heat, to wash away the lingering fear and pain. You allowed yourself to just exist for a few moments, letting the warmth seep into your aching muscles. Slowly, you scrubbed away the tension, the weariness in your bones easing with every pass of the washcloth. It was hard to shake off the heaviness, but the heat and solitude were helping. Just a little.

After a few minutes, you reluctantly turned off the water, the sudden silence hitting you as the last of the steam dissipated. You stepped out, wrapping yourself in the towel Sam had left out for you. It was soft, warm against your skin, and the faint scent of his soap lingered on it, a reminder of his presence just beyond the door.

You eyed the oversized clothes Sam had left on the counter. The sweatshirt and sweatpants looked almost comical, the sleeves and legs hanging far past your fingertips and ankles. But they felt like a small piece of him, like a shield, so you slipped them on, pulling them as tight around you as you could, trying to feel something resembling comfort in the vastness of his clothes. You tugged at the sleeves, trying to bury your hands in them as you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way toward the door, the clothes swallowing you in a way that somehow made you feel safe. Your heart ached, but there was something calming in the way they felt. Like Sam was still here, protecting you even when he wasn’t right beside you.

As you opened the bathroom door, Sam was standing just outside, his eyes immediately locking onto you as you walked out. His gaze softened as he took in the sight of you in his clothes, looking so fragile and small under the fabric. You caught a flash of concern cross his face, but he quickly masked it with a gentle smile. He stepped forward, his arms instinctively reaching out as if to steady you.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with worry as he glanced down at the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants you were swathed in.

You nodded, offering a weak smile. “I’m... okay. Just... trying to get comfortable, I guess.”

Sam’s eyes softened even further, and he gently cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your skin in a comforting, soothing motion. "Let's get you some rest, alright?" His voice was warm, offering you a sense of reassurance. As Sam guided you gently through the hallway, his hand resting lightly on your back, you stopped, a sudden surge of uncertainty washing over you. You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice barely a whisper, “Sam… can I… can I sleep in your room instead?”

Sam froze, glancing over at you with a soft expression that was all tenderness. He could tell you needed something more right now—something beyond just the comfort of the bed in your own room. He stepped closer to you, his face softening, the concern in his eyes deepening. Without a second thought, he smiled gently, his hand brushing against your arm as he nodded.

"Of course, Bug," he said, the nickname slipping out naturally, carrying with it all the warmth he felt for you. “Let’s get you settled in my room.”

He led you to his room, his hand remaining steady at your back as you walked. The space felt different with him in it, cozier, comforting in a way that only Sam’s presence could make it. He pulled back the covers, making sure everything was just right for you.

Once you were comfortably nestled in, he adjusted the pillows around you, making sure you were warm and relaxed. He pulled the blanket up around you, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he gently tucked it in.

“You’re safe here,” Sam murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just call me if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of your exhaustion settle in as you sank deeper into the softness of his bed. He sat down beside you for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face. As he stood up to leave, the darkness pulled you under.

You woke with a start, your heart racing in your chest as the soft light from the hallway trickled in. The bed felt familiar, warm, but something was off. You blinked, still disoriented from the deep sleep, and when your eyes focused, you froze.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim light, was Dean.

For a split second, all you could do was stare, your breath caught in your throat. A wave of panic rushed through you like an electric shock. No. No, not again.

The terror flooded you faster than you could process, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

“No!” you screamed, your voice breaking. “No, please, no!” The words tumbled from your lips in frantic terror, your body jerking as you scrambled to get away from him.

The sheets tangled around your legs, tripping you up, making you feel more trapped. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You had to get away. You had to get away.

“Please! No, please, no!” You cried, pushing at the bed with shaky hands, trying to free yourself from the blankets that held you down, but they only made you feel more ensnared. Panic surged through your chest as you pushed harder, desperate, but in your frantic attempt to escape, you didn't realize how close you were to the edge.

And then, you lost balance.

With a gut wrenching scream, you tumbled backward, crashing to the floor with a sickening thud, your body tangled in the blankets, your heart thumping in your throat. The impact made everything spin. Your mind was a blur of terror, the only thing you knew was that you had to get away.

You scrambled on the floor, your limbs moving in every direction, hands pressing against the cold wood, trying to push yourself backward into the corner of the room. You couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the overwhelming terror. Your back slammed into the wall as you tried to put more distance between yourself and the figure in the doorway.

Dean stood there, unmoving, a pained expression on his face. His hands were raised, palms out, as if to show he meant no harm. But you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t see past the fear and the memories of him that haunted you.

“Y/N, please!” Dean’s voice cracked with desperation, his tone softer, but it didn’t reach you. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s really me. I’m not a demon anymore. Please…”

But your screams continued, echoing through the room, drowning out everything he was trying to say.

Then the door slammed open.

Sam.

His face was a mix of horror and frantic concern as he rushed in. “Dean, what the hell?” Sam’s voice was sharp, filled with panic. “She’s not ready for this!”

You didn’t hear Sam, didn’t see anything but the man standing in the doorway. You were still scrabbling against the floor, shaking, screaming, begging for him to leave, to not hurt you.

Dean hesitated, clearly struggling with what to do. “I’m sorry, Sam... I didn’t think she was going to wake up yet. I just had to check on her…” His voice faltered. “I didn’t want to—”

“No!” you screamed again, your voice hoarse, panic coursing through every fiber of your being. “Please, no!”

Sam moved toward you, kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently hold your shoulders. You flinched away from him, still lost in your fear, unable to focus on anything but the threat in the doorway.

“Y/N, please,” Sam said, his voice frantic. He was trying to calm you, trying to reach you, but his words barely made it through the haze of panic. “Listen to me. Listen. You’re safe, okay? You’re safe. Dean’s not a demon anymore!”

Your eyes remained fixed on Dean. Your breaths were shallow, gasping for air, but you couldn’t hear Sam. You couldn’t focus on anything but the terror that clawed at you.

“Please! No! No, I can’t—I can’t—” You were barely coherent, your voice raw, still scrambling away, shaking, terrified.

Sam’s own panic intensified as he looked at Dean, his voice sharp with frustration and urgency. “Dean, leave! Now!”

Dean’s face fell, the regret and pain washing over him, but he backed away, slowly, giving you space. “I—I’m sorry.” Before he rushed out the door.

You continued to shake, your chest heaving, the sound of your breath almost deafening in the room. Your hands gripped the floor, trying to steady yourself, to breathe. Slowly, Sam turned back to you, his hands gentle but firm as he held your arms, trying to pull you out of the panic.

“Y/N,” Sam said, his voice softer now but still filled with urgency, “I need you to listen to me. Look at me, please.” He begged and forced you to meet his eyes. “Dean’s cured. He’s not a demon. He’s Dean. You’re safe, okay? You’re safe. It’s over.”

The words finally hit you. "W-what?" You whispered, your heart pounding, struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Sam was telling you.

“He’s cured, Y/N.” Sam repeated, his hands moving to gently pull you into his arms, holding you close as you continued to shake. Your breath caught in your throat. "Are- are you sure? R-Really, Sam?" Your hands trembled as they clung to his shirt.

"Yes," Sam affirmed softly, his voice steady. "It’s over. We did it. He’s cured. Dean’s back. It’s really him."

Relief hit you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and sudden. You could hardly breathe through it, but you collapsed into Sam’s arms, all the tension in your body finally unraveling. “Oh my God!” You cried out in pure relief. Your hands gripped him tight, clutching onto him as if you might float away.

"Thank you, Sam," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Thank you for being strong enough to fix him. To do this... You saved us."

Sam wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, resting his cheek on your head. "We did it together," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You never gave up on him, Y/N. You were right there, with me. We made it through."

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. "Thank you," you repeated, barely able to hold the words together. "Thank you." You took a deep breath, your fingers clutching Sam's shirt as you pulled away slightly. You could feel the heaviness of the moment hanging in the air between you both. The fear, the confusion... it was still there, but something else was creeping in. Hope. Slowly, steadily, but it was there.

“Sam,” you said softly, your voice wavering a bit, “I’m ready. I want to see him. I need to.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, concern still flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want you to—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted, the words heavy with everything you had been holding back. “I need to see him. Please.”

Sam hesitated, but he gave a gentle nod and helped you to your feet. His hand lingered on your back as you walked toward Dean’s room, a comforting presence you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from. But when you reached the door, you hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding. You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling the tiniest bit of fear as you turned the doorknob. Sam gave you a soft smile of encouragement before he walked away to give you both a moment he knew you both needed.

Inside, you saw Dean sitting on the bed, flipping through the stack of old photos you were looking at earlier, his expression distant. He looked so normal, so much like the brother you remembered. But as soon as he heard you, his head snapped up, his eyes widening when they met yours.

“De?” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Dean froze, his body tense. His face was pale, but his eyes were filled with pain. In an instant, the guilt in his eyes was almost unbearable, and when he stood up abruptly, you couldn’t help but flinch back, the reflex built from everything that had happened.

He saw it, the fear still lingering in your eyes, and his face crumpled in regret.

“I’m so sorry, kid,” he said hoarsely, taking a step toward you, but still keeping his distance, his hands shaking. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never—”

Your eyes flickered down to the photos in his hands, the same ones you had been flipping through earlier. The memories of the real Dean—the brother who’d always loved you, who’d always been there to protect you, the one who’d never hurt you.

You swallowed thickly, a lump in your throat. With a shaky breath, you took a step forward, pushing past the lingering fear, your voice soft but firm. “It’s not your fault, Dean,” you said, your eyes meeting his. “I know the real you. The one in these photos,” you pointed to the pictures in his hands, “the brother I grew up with, the one who protected me. That Dean would never hurt me. That Dean would never do what... demon Dean did to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, every ounce of your emotion spilling out in that one moment. “You’re you, Dean. You’re cured. I know you. And that’s all that matters. You’re back. You’re really back.”

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears as he took a slow, shaky step toward you, his voice trembling. “Y/N…” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry,” Dean choked out, his voice thick with grief. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to scare you... God, I never wanted to be that thing.” Tears blurred your vision as you stepped into Dean's embrace, your arms wrapping around him tightly. His scent, so familiar, was a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. You pressed your face into his chest, letting the sobs wrack through your body as the weight of everything fell on you. He held you just as tightly, his hands coming up to rest gently on the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your hair as if trying to soothe you. His breath was shaky, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his face pressed against the top of your head.

You could feel his tears wetting your hair as he buried his face against your shoulder, his whole body trembling as well. His tears now mixing with yours. You clung to him, your hands gripping his jacket as you whispered between sobs.

“I’m so glad you’re back, De. I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, barely able to speak through your tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I thought I lost you...”

Dean held you tighter, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You didn’t lose me. I swear, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every damn day proving that I’m here, that I’m not that thing anymore.”

You shook your head, still clinging to him. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re back. You’re my brother. I know who you are. That’s all that matters. It’s over now. You’re really back.”

Dean didn’t say anything at first, just held you tighter, both of you surrounded by the warmth of the other’s embrace. The years of fear and pain were slowly being replaced by the quiet, overwhelming relief that, no matter what, you had your brother again. The real Dean.

[daisymbin]

hii! can you please do fluff prompt 4 with vernon? tysmm

of course!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

fluff prompt #4: "stop stealing my food."

it was another quiet evening at home, and hansol had decided to get burgers and fries for dinner. he’d been craving it all day, so naturally, he ordered extra, knowing full well that you always ended up snacking on his food. but that wasn’t the only reason he ordered double.

when he asked, for the fourth time, if you wanted anything, you gave him the same answer as always. “nah, i’m good,” you said, barely looking up from the book you were reading. he didn’t buy it for a second.

“are you sure? i can get extra fries,” he said, trying to tempt you, but you just shook your head.

“really, i’m not hungry. i had a late lunch, i’ll be fine,” you assured him, and hansol chuckled to himself, already you wouldnt be able to resist the food.

the moment you’d turned down his offer, he’d quickly placed the order with double everything: two large burgers, two portions of fries, 1 extra large cups of milkshake. he had even convinced himself that it was a good idea to get extra fries, just in case. it wasn’t like you’d admit you were hungry anyway once you realised you were wrong, so he would just make sure there was enough for both of you. besides, he had a sneaky little trick up his sleeve.

when the food arrived, hansol made a big show of being completely shocked by the amount of food. he carried the bags into the living room, acting surprised. “woah, uh... they gave me way too much,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. you looked up from your book, eyes widening at the sight of two burgers and a mountain of fries.

he pretended to frown, then pulled his phone out and began dialing. “hey, i just got my order... yeah, i think you made a mistake, theres way too much food. oh? the burgers and fries are 1 for 1 right now? i didn’t know that... huh, wow, okay. yeah, i’ll take care of it. thanks.”

he “hung up” the phone and turned back to you with a sigh, pretending to be defeated. “well... looks like i have to eat everything,” he said, trying (and failing) to keep the grin from spreading across his face.

he dug into the first burger, taking exaggerated bites as he pretended to be totally overwhelmed by the amount of food. after finishing the burger, he moved onto the fries, taking slow, agonizing bites, letting the pile of fries grow higher as he left half of it untouched.

with a dramatic sigh, he glanced at you and said, “ugh, i really can’t finish another burger. it’s just too much, you know?” then, with the most pitiful look, he added, “please... help me finish it, or it’s just gonna go to waste.”

you sighed and put your book down. “fine, i’ll help,” you said, trying to act like you were reluctantly agreeing when, deep down, you were practically salivating. you’d been starving the minute the smell of burgers and fries hit your nostrils, but you’d never admit it to hansol.

you grabbed the second burger and bit into it, enjoying the taste of the juicy patty, and quickly finished off a few fries. hansol had his eyes trained on you as you finally ate, a satisfied look on his face.

but then, in true hansol fashion, he slyly reached over and grabbed a handful of fries from your side of the plate.

you gave him a look. “hey!” you said, trying to pull the fries away, but hansol only chuckled and held onto them. “stop stealing my food!” he said, his voice playful but firm.

you raised an eyebrow, about to retort, but then you stopped and glanced at him with a teasing smile. “aren’t you the one who asked for help?” you said, feigning innocence.

hansol grinned. “you’re right,” he admitted, “but i didn’t say anything about stealing my fries.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped. "im just kidding," hansol says as you watch him pick up more fries, "eat, baby."

you leaned over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you snuck one more fry. “fine, fine,” you said. “i’ll eat, but only because you’re cute and begging me to help you.”

hansol’s face softened as he let out a small laugh, his eyes twinkling with affection as he looked at you. “me? begging?? yes, I am," he teased, reaching over to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

you smiled against his lips. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d never help you finish your meal.”

[httpvomitello]

Hii! Can I request rise Donnie x reader (rom) who teases him a bunch? Not in a hurt full way. Though they do get under his skin

Hello, hello! Thanks for the request, hope you like it ~ ♡♡♡♡

The Fine Art of Poking the Genius *⁠.⁠✧

It was easy to make Donnie flustered. Maybe too easy. Not that you’d ever use that against him. Well… not too much.

You lounged on one of the swivel chairs in Donnie’s lab, watching as he tinkered with some new gadget. His hands worked with precise efficiency, his brow furrowed in concentration. He hadn’t even noticed you sneak in, and you weren’t about to let this golden opportunity pass you by.

“Hey, Donnie,” you called out, dragging his name just a little too sweetly.

His hand twitched, and he paused, glancing up at you with a suspicious look. “Yes, Y/N? What do you want?”

“Nothing,” you said innocently, spinning lazily in the chair. “Just admiring your work. It's really something to behold. You should charge admission.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“Me? Mocking you? Never,” you said, holding your hand to your chest like you were offended. “I mean, it’s not my fault that your genius comes with a side of ‘mad scientist aesthetic.’”

He groaned, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead. “It’s not ‘mad scientist.’ It’s visionary engineer.’ There’s a difference.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, grinning. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dr. Frankenstein.”

Donnie pointed a screwdriver at you. “First of all, Dr. Frankenstein was a fictional character. Secondly, if you keep disrupting me, I’ll have no choice but to eject you from my lab.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” you teased, spinning the chair again. “What are you gonna do, sic one of your inventions on me? Wait—are you finally working on a giant robot butler? Because I’m so ready to see that.”

He muttered something under his breath, but you couldn’t make it out. Probably some witty comeback he was too annoyed to properly articulate.

“You’re fun when you’re grumpy, you know that?” you added.

“I’m not grumpy,” he snapped, clearly grumpy.

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “Of course not. You’re the epitome of calm and collected. A true Zen master.”

His tools clattered onto the desk as he turned fully to face you. “Do you enjoy this? Getting under my skin? Is it some kind of hobby for you?”

You tilted your head like you were thinking about it. “Eh, it’s more of a part-time gig. Keeps me entertained.”

Donnie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” you said, smirking.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead turning back to his work and muttering something about “distractions” and “increasing lab security.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand as you watched him. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

This time, his hands froze completely, and you caught the faintest tinge of pink creeping up his neck. “I—what?!”

“You heard me,” you said, grinning even wider. “But don’t worry, Donatello, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Donnie sputtered, his mind clearly short-circuiting. “That is completely irrelevant to—why would you even—ugh, you’re impossible!”

“And yet, you tolerate me.”

“Barely,” he grumbled, but there was no real heat in his voice.

You leaned back in the chair, feeling victorious. “Admit it, Don. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around to keep you on your toes.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept fiddling with his gadget. But then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he said, “Maybe.”

Your grin softened into a genuine smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he added quickly, though the tips of his ears were definitely red now.

“Too late,” you said, spinning in the chair one last time.

He sighed again but didn’t kick you out of the lab. And you knew he wouldn’t, no matter how much you teased him. Because deep down, he didn’t really mind. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you liked seeing that little spark of flustered frustration in his eyes.

[kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick]

Merry Kissmas, Day 24—Christmas Eve

Arthur is pretty sure now. The events of the last three days have been enlightening.

Merlin feels it too.

He wanted nothing more than to tell Merlin that it was okay, that he had nothing to be sorry for, that Arthur wanted the second kiss too. And a third and a fourth and—

He heaves a sigh as he stands in his kitchen on Christmas Eve morning, waiting for his coffee to brew. There is no work today, but he’s going to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party tonight, which will be in the office, and Merlin will be there.

He didn’t get a chance to tell Merlin anything yesterday. It seemed far too private to say in front of anyone else, and he worried Merlin would be too afraid to meet him in his office again. He considered texting and that was how he realized he didn’t know what to say. Well. He knew what to say, but every way he could think to say it sounded weirdly pathetic. Then he started to doubt if it was the right thing to do at all.

Maybe this is just what it's like when you kiss someone every single day for twenty-three days. Maybe he would have fallen in love with anyone if he did this with them. He certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with Merlin of all people.

This is the doubt he’s been wrestling with, but somehow he knows it’s not true. Somehow he knows this is real.

He knows because of how he always looks forward to Merlin’s kiss. How he always finds himself smiling when he thinks about Merlin, which he does a lot now. The warmth that spreads through him whenever he looks at Merlin, his tousled hair, his ears, the line of his neck, his dirty shoes that are completely inappropriate for an office setting.

He supposes he’s always been a little bit in love with Merlin. But this past month has really brought it to his attention.

At a loss for what else to do, Arthur calls Morgana.

“Hey, Morgana,” he greets, “I was just wondering... is Merlin coming to your party tonight?”

“Yes, as far as I know,” she answers.

“So he hasn’t told you that he won’t be coming after all?”

“Why, is there some reason you don’t want him to come?”

“No, I want him to come. I really want him to come.”

“Is there some reason you think he won’t?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues, “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Er....”

Morgana sighs. “Does this have anything to do with the weird game you two have been playing?”

“How do you know about that?

“Gwen.”

“She told you?”

“I have a right to know when you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I should never have done any of that stuff in front of her.”

“Oh, she told me about the ones you didn’t do in front of her.”

“Ugh. Merlin. Is there no such thing as privacy?”

“So what’s the problem? Have you fallen in love?”

Arthur is silent.

“Oh my god, you have. Oh, Arthur,” and a hint of humanity slides into her voice, underneath a thousand layers of irony and condescension. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, that’s why you called, you want advice.”

“No, no I don’t want your advice.”

“My advice is simple: follow your heart. Do what it is that you want to do.”

“That’s your advice? Why?”

“Because, I’m pretty sure Merlin wants you as much as you want him and I want him to be happy.”

“You really think that?”

“Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. God only knows why.”

“Thanks, Morgana,” Arthur says, then his sincerity runs dry. “I still think this is a trap.”

She laughs.

He hangs up.

In his own shitty flat that gets shittier the longer he stays at Arthur’s flat, Merlin is also thinking about the last three days and dreading the party tonight. The difference is, he’s still thinking about it in terms of the game. There’s no way he can win, and he doesn’t want to anyway. He thinks a tie would be the most preferable outcome, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter.

Except that Arthur will be insufferable if he wins. And he’ll remind Merlin about it at every opportunity, driving the knife deeper each time. But still, he can’t seem to bring himself to care.

Let him kiss me , he thinks, brooding into his morning tea. I want him to kiss me .

He spends the day dreaming about what it will be like and planning his reaction to it. He has every intention of kissing Arthur back. He’s done that several times and nothing has come of it.

As he’s sitting there, spiraling inside his own mind, he gets a phone call from Gwen and immediately answers it, desperate for anything. “Hello.”

“Hi, Merlin, are you busy?”

“No.”

“Would you like something to do?”

“Yes, please. God, yes.”

“Wow. Okay. I’m helping Morgana decorate for the party tonight and we could use an extra set of hands. And someone taller.”

“I’ll be right there.” He hangs up, leaps off of his chair, and gets ready in minutes flat. He already has his outfit picked out: black jeans that he thinks make his arse look good and an “ugly” Lord of the Rings Christmas jumper with all four hobbits on it.

“That was fast,” Gwen greets him at the door. She’s wearing a red velvet off-the-shoulder dress with her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck except for a couple ringlets that frame her face.

“You look amazing,” Merlin says, taking her in.

“Thank you.” She looks down. “I like your jumper.”

“Thanks.” They hug, and her embrace fills him with a sense that maybe everything will be okay.

“We’re in here.” She leads him further into the building where the party will take place, in the employee break room on the first floor and the wide open space in front of it. It’s a mirror of the second floor where Merlin works and he can’t help but look at and notice all the places that look like the places where he and Arthur have kissed. The front door. The desk that looks just like his. The boss’s office to the side. The table. Against the wall. He tingles at the memories and it makes his heart hurt.

“Lance!” Merlin cries when he sees Gwen’s boyfriend helping Morgana with decorations.

“Merlin!” Lance cries, then comes over and gives Merlin a hug.

“Long time no see,” Merlin grins.

“Yes, too long.”

“Hi, Merlin,” greets Morgana, who is stunning as usual in a green dress, her glossy black hair cascading over one shoulder. She wraps her arms around him and he feels blessed by her presence.

“Wait, I thought you said you needed someone tall,” Merlin says to Gwen, glancing at Lance who is roughly the same height as Merlin.

“We could use two tall people,” she says.

“I can give you a boost and you can help me with these,” Lance says, holding up some artificial mistletoe sprigs.

Merlin looks annoyed at Gwen. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” she winces.

Merlin shakes his head and turns to help Lance. After Lance gives him a boost and he hangs the mistletoe, he slides down in his arms and they’re left standing together underneath it, looking into each other’s eyes. Merlin blushes, then lets go of Lance, pulls away, grabs Gwen, and throws her into Lance’s arms.

“Hi,” she blinks, grabbing his shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiles, looking at her with the most loving expression.

Merlin watches as they kiss, his smile fading after a moment, wishing he could have the same thing with Arthur.

He feels Morgana’s hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Oh yeah? What do you know about it?”

“I know.” And there is a strange twinkle in her eye that gives him an unfathomable sense of hope.

Arthur always arrives fashionably late to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party, but tonight he finds himself impatient and eager to get there, so, after delaying his arrival as long as he can stand, he shows up less than an hour after it ostensibly started.

It appears to be in full swing; there are many people there, most of whom he knows, but there’s really only one person he wants to see.

“Hello, dear brother,” Morgana greets in her sarcastically sweet tone, coming at him from the left and putting her arm around him, a glass of what is probably champagne in her other hand.

“Hello, Morgana,” he sighs, slipping his arm around her waist halfheartedly.

“Merlin’s over there.” She points with her glass and Arthur sees Merlin’s dark hair just poking out above the heads of some other people whose faces he tunes out as he hones in on Merlin.

His palms sweat and his breathing is shallow as he makes his way into the breakroom where Merlin is standing beside a spread of Christmas desserts and, to Arthur’s dismay, is talking to Gwaine, looking very excited to be doing so.

Merlin turns when Arthur comes close and immediately looks annoyed. “Oh, of course you’re wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. And of course it’s that one.”

Arthur looks down at Merlin’s chest and notices he is also wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. “What’s wrong with this?” he asks, indicating his own jumper, with the White Tree of Gondor on it.

“You’re wearing that because you fancy yourself Aragorn.”

“And you fancy yourself Frodo.”

“Frodo is the main character.”

“And Aragorn is the rightful king of Gondor.”

They stare at each other in hostility for a moment, before Merlin breaks it with a smile, and Arthur has to smile back. “It is a pretty cool jumper.”

“Thanks. I like yours too.”

“Thanks. Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hi, Arthur,” says Gwaine as Merlin turns to fill a champagne flute for Arthur.

“Oh. Hi, Gwaine.”

“Looking forward to tonight?”

“Yeah, it should be fun.”

“I’ll meet you under the mistletoe.” He winks.

“No, you won’t.”

“I’m sure someone will.”

Just then, Merlin hands him his champagne. “Morgana always has the best drinks,” Merlin says. “She has some new purple... punch or something over there.”

“What’s in it?” Arthur asks.

“I dunno.”

“Is it good?”

“I dunno, is it, Gwaine?”

Gwaine takes a drink from his cup. “Very.”

“A bit of advice, for both of you,” Arthur says. “Don’t trust Morgana.”

“I trust her more than I trust you,” Merlin says.

“Oh yeah?” Arthur says, and steps closer to Merlin, who shrinks away just visibly, and Arthur fights the need to back off because Merlin is being ridiculous. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”

Arthur sees Merlin’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “I dunno. What are you gonna do to me?” He stands up straighter, practically daring Arthur to kiss him.

Arthur barely manages to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s lips. “Nothing.” He steps back and turns toward the table full of Christmas treats. He picks something up without even knowing what it is and puts it in his mouth. A biscuit.

“Well,” says Gwaine. “I guess I’ll see who else I can trap under the mistletoe.”

Merlin is surprised by how normal his and Arthur’s interactions are that night. All his anxiety melted away when he saw Arthur and they fell into their usual banter. They are inseparable all night. They eat. They dance. They drink. But still, Arthur doesn’t try to kiss him.

Merlin can’t understand why. Arthur would win. He’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s like he doesn’t want to win. It drives Merlin mad, and he’s torn between drinking as much as he can and staying sober so he can enjoy Arthur’s kiss when it does come.

The night creeps by and still it doesn’t come.

Finally, a slow song comes on and people are actually slow dancing to it. Lance is of course a great dancer and Merlin watches him and Gwen for a moment before Arthur approaches.

“Are you going to dance with me on this one?” he asks, slipping his arms around Merlin’s waist.

A spark crackles through Merlin’s body at the touch and his arms are circling Arthur’s shoulders before he can stop them. “Yes,” he hears himself say.

Arthur smiles at him as they begin to sway and Merlin can’t help but smile back as it goes on. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Arthur’s. They are the only two people in the world and it feels so strange but so right, moving like this.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Arthur asks after long moments stretch out before them.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t tried to kiss me at all. You could tie, you know.”

“I don’t want to tie.”

“Why not?”

This is the moment. Arthur is so close and Merlin could tell him everything, but as he stands on the precipice, he finds he is too cowardly.

Merlin is driving Arthur insane . They are together the whole night, so close they are almost touching, then when they do eventually touch, Merlin won’t tell him what he wants. Maybe it’s all the other people around.

He steps away from Merlin before the song is over and gives him a hard look. Merlin looks surprised, apprehensive even. Arthur looks around for an escape route, sees a broom closet, takes Merlin’s hand, and drags him in there, closing the door behind them.

“A closet? Really?” comes Merlin’s voice in the dark.

“Hang on, I think there’s a light in here.” Merlin is leaning against the wall and Arthur has to reach behind him to find the switch. When the light turns on, he’s crowding Merlin up against the wall.

“What are you doing, Arthur?”

“You have not tried to kiss me all night. Why?”

Merlin’s look of indignation fades into something far sadder until he looks so completely miserable it makes Arthur feel like a terrible person for having done this to him. His arms are crossed, protecting himself from Arthur, but he goes slack, leaning against the wall, all possible traces of anger gone. “You know why.”

All Arthur can hear is his own breathing as he takes it in. He does know why. He’s known it for days. He feels it himself. Neither of them care about this stupid game anymore. It’s gone so far beyond that, it’s impossible to even remember what that was like.

Arthur closes his eyes, then opens them. “Let’s tie.”

“Hm?” Merlin’s brow quirks hopefully.

Arthur takes Merlin’s shoulders in his hands and leans even closer. “I don’t care about the game,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “I just want you. Let’s tie.”

Then Merlin is leaning forward and Arthur has felt his kiss before, in fact, he’s felt this exact fervor behind it, but this time it is unbound by any pretense and Merlin tilts fully into it, grabbing Arthur and holding him close, so close it’s as if he can’t get close enough, their entire bodies pressed together in the closet, and Arthur finally lets himself go too, exploring Merlin’s mouth like he’s always wanted to and it’s warm, heat spreading like fire throughout his body at every contact point between him and Merlin. He pushes forward, crushing Merlin against the wall because he really can’t get close enough.

He has to pull away for breath and to look at Merlin, flushed and disheveled and beautiful in the harsh lighting.

It is far more than Merlin ever hoped for. Even with all the assurances from his friends and his decision to just let it happen and how seemingly romantic Arthur is being, his heart soars like he can’t believe when Arthur says, “I just want you.”

It is like a dream and despite how dirty it probably is in that closet, Arthur’s kiss is pure and right and sets Merlin alight his entire body over and there is nowhere he’d rather be than between Arthur and that wall. He tastes like biscuits and peppermint and champagne and love.

When Arthur finally breaks away, he is glowing. Even the fluorescent lighting loves him.

Arthur strokes Merlin’s face with his thumb. “You are so beautiful, Merlin,” he says breathlessly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Merlin swallows. “Me too.”

“Now that it’s finally over,” he says, nosing Merlin’s cheek, “I wanna take you home,” a kiss to his jaw, “and I won’t stop until there isn’t an inch of you I haven’t kissed.”

“What? You don’t just say things like that.”

“I do now.” He presses closer to Merlin and a surge of arousal flows through his body like never before.

“Oh god, yes,” Merlin breathes. “Arthur. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“You’ve waited this long, what’s a few more minutes?”

“An eternity.”

Arthur kisses him again and it’s the first kiss that is free from the confines of the game. It’s strong and it’s sweet and so quintessentially Arthur. Merlin is thrilled yet not surprised at all that he knows it so well.

As they duck out of the closet, saying a rushed goodbye to the party in general, Gwaine can be heard saying to Gwen, “Finally.”

[quxyivs]

The other half of me

Popular Boy! Lee Know x Loner Photographer! Black fem reader

Summary: Lee Know the schools heartthrob, Mr perfect, the pretty boy, sees you getting bullied by his ex and decides to step in. He offers to take you to the nurse and when you two meet again after you rejected his offer her learned that he doesn’t have to lie to himself when near you (College AU)

Troupe- Heartthrob x Loner (kinda)

Trigger Warnings! Fluff and angst, crying, cursing, bullying, a tad bit of fighting, blood (lmk if I missed anything!!)

You were sitting down in your seat on the train looking down at your camera as you made your way to school. When the train finally stopped you stood up and walked over your bag and camera in hand. You connected your Bluetooth headphones as you began walking out the train station and toward the campus.

You were eventually across the street from the campus. You looked at the gates and you took a deep breath before walking across the street and making it to the other side of the road. When you made it to the other side you walked towards the entrance, not before the same group of girls came beside you pushing you over and knocking you down causing you to hurt your leg.

“Fuck-!! Ow!!” You said as you sat up holding your bleeding knee. “Aww is the baby gonna cry? Gonna cry!! Grab her camera and take a picture too!!” Amia, your main enemy laughed loudly as another girl, Jio, grabbed the camera. When she picked it up you quickly stood up and snatched it back. “Leave me alone!” You said clenching your camera. “Who do you think you’re talking to!?” Just as Amia was about to slap you, Lee Know, the school heartthrob stopped her hand.

“Amia what the hell are you doing? Leave her alone.” Lee know said looking at Amia with a stern voice standing there waiting for her to leave. “But-!!” “Go.” “UGH!!” Amia stomped off with her friend mumbling underneath her breath. Lee know turned around coming closer towards you to get a look at your face before you backed up. “I didn’t need help..but thank you..” You said as you looked away from him and back away. “You’re welc-shit you’re bleeding come here let me help.” He reached out to grab your arm when you snatched it back from him. “Don’t!!..Don’t touch me. I can do it myself.”

You grab your bag from off the ground and limp to the nurses office. She wasn’t surprised to see you as this was normal for you by now. She sat you down on a chair as she disinfected the wound. As you sat there patiently waiting for her to finish the door to the office was opened again and in came Lee know. You were about to protest and tell him to stop following you when you saw him sit on the chair need the window and just look outside. Completely ignoring your presence.

You could tell he seemed a bit out of it so you decided to maybe snap him out of it. “What’s little Mr. Perfect doing here? Thought boys like you were too good to get into fights.” You said sarcastically rolling your eyes as you looked at him waiting for his response. “Well seeing as defending you got me dumped, I thought I’d come check in you.” He said honestly making you feel bad.

“Oh..I-I’m sorry I didnt…”

“It’s fine. She was annoying and bitchy anyways..just using me for my popularity and money..” For the first time in forever you felt like you knew him..? You and Lee know never spoke. Never even a wave but here he was pouring his true emotions out to you. You looked at him softly. “So why’d you get with her..?” You said softly but also sounding concerned. “My parents forced me to do it. They force me to do all of this.” He admitted as he looked at her.

You two made eye contact but it felt deeper than just a glare. “So you don’t want to be the schools ‘Heartthrob’ the ‘popular boy’ the-“ “Guy everyone wants to become because I’m rich and get girls? yeah. I hate it, wish I could just be left alone, kinda like you.” He said chuckling to himself dryly.

“..Why would you want that.. I mean being alone is well, lonely of course.. No friends and everyone thinks you’re just a weirdo. Being like this sucks.” You say chuckling as well looking down at your leg as the nurse walked in. “Oh? Is something wrong Lee know?” The nurse said looking at your leg and wrapping it as she spoke. “No just came in here to get away.” He said his voice quiet, almost like he wanted to go unheard.

“Well good thing I just went to restock….” She paused briefly. “You know.. you two are really the same.” She said with a soft smile as she finished wrapping your leg throwing away some of the bloody cotton balls. “How? We’re polar opposites.” You two said almost at the same time and then made eye contact.

“That’s how.” She giggled. “Well you two need to get to class now yes?? I’ll write you both a pass!” You awkwardly shifted in your seat before standing up preparing to leave as she finishes writing the note you find yourself gazing in Lee know’s direction. As you look at him, you find yourself lost in his presence. The way the sunlight hits all his features perfectly, the way his eyes shimmer, his slightly pink cheeks.. You find yourself unable to control your movements and you take out your camera and snap a picture of him. When the picture comes out the Polaroid you shake it and then look at it. Gorgeous. Pure perfection. You then snap out of your head when you hear the nurse snap.

“Stuck in la-la land over him aren’t we?” She chuckled. Nervous that you had been called out you just run out the room with your camera but dropping the picture. Lee know saw that you dropped something and he stood up to pick it up when he saw that what you dropped…was a picture of him.

He smiled and picked up the photo. The nurse who was watching it all smiled too as she crossed her legs

“Seems you found your other half.”

“Seems so..”

.

.

.

A/N- AH I spent SO long writing this!! I hope you guys like it!!! Lmk if you want this to be a series too(*≧∀≦*)

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 8

Part 7

Steve ignored Dustin’s protests as he scented him in the car. He’d done so every morning this week now that his pup was back in school. It still felt like a dream come true that he got to see his son off, bookbag bouncing as he hopped, skipped, and stepped to his class. But that left him completely alone. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and then drove off to distract himself with random errands. Of course, the thoughts came to him anyway. As he went shopping, as he visited the club, even as he tried to drown his thoughts out with the chaotic sounds of a playground, they found him.

How he was in a loveless marriage, how his parents still ruled over him, even though one was dead. He was just like his parents, right down to his husband having a mistress. Steve got back home, hours wasted and it was barely two in the afternoon. Steve wandered to the kitchen. He got through two glasses before giving up and just taking the bottle up to his room. 

But there was one difference between his life and his mother’s. One aspect he nearly forgot about.

He nearly jolted off the bed and threatened to tip the bottle over when the phone rang. He groaned, not up to talking with anyone. But it continued to ring and that just frayed his nerves even more.

“Hello?”, he answered.

“Hey, so what should I bring to dinner tonight? Wine? A cheese plate? Some other rich person thing I can’t think of?”

Shit. Shit, the weekly dinner. Steve set the bottle down on the floor and tried to right himself. He sniffed, not realizing how close to tears he had been.

“Hey? Stevie, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m just, yeah I…yeah”, Steve said, words feeling too heavy all of a sudden. He just wanted Eddie here. To hold him, scent him, comfort him the way he used to. And just like before, Eddie could tell there was a lot weighing on him even though he had hardly said anything.

“Are you home? I can be there in ten.”

“Eddie no, I..I couldn’t. You don’t need to-”

“I’m coming. You can turn me away once I’m there but I’m on my way.”

Eddie got there in nine minutes and Steve didn’t turn him away. He was almost petty enough to bring Eddie up to the bedroom. Let Tommy catch the scent of another alpha on their bedspread. But Steve wasn’t that bold yet. Not ready to fully confront it all. So he took Eddie up to one of the guest rooms instead. They fell into bed as easily as if nothing had changed. Steve scented him, rubbing their cheeks together, nuzzling his neck. Eddie let it all happen, silent until a rumble rolled through him.

“What are we doin’, baby?”, he asked, voice low.

“I know, I’m sorry”, Steve said, suddenly sitting up. “I just…needed you.”

“I get that. But why? What happened? Is something wrong with Dustin?”

“No”, Steve shook his head. “Dustin’s as healthy as ever. It’s…”

Eddie propped himself onto his elbows, gazing at Steve’s profile. “It’s Tommy”, he surmised correctly.

“Not just him. It’s Carol too.”

Eddie shot up at that. “No…”

Steve nodded, then got up from the bed to stare out the window. “It’s true.”

“I’ll fucking kill him. How could he-”

“Eddie, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! Steve, you were about to fall into rejection sickness!”

Steve wrapped his arms around himself and refused to look at Eddie. That’s what he’d been feeling. Eddie must have smelled it on him the minute he arrived. And he still let Steve rub all over him.

“Do you love him?”, Eddie asked, his voice soft.

“No!”, Steve whipped around. “I don’t love him. He’s slime. He’s a parasite. He’s-ugh, fuck! I can’t believe I’m sick over him! Eddie, I swear I don’t love him. It’s just…I never wanted…this life”, he sighed, then fell back against the bed. “And it’s not just me anymore, it’s Dustin too. He’s growing up in this cold, loveless house just like I did. I should’ve run away with you.”

“It’s not loveless. He’s got you. And me now”, Eddie said, kneeling before Steve. “And I’m done looking back. I just wanna think about the future I have with you two. What’s it matter if Hagan’s shacking up with Carol anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter all that much. At least not on Tommy’s end.” Steve played with Eddie’s hair. “But Carol’s never in it just for the fun. She’s probably after his money.”

“Your money”, Eddie corrected. “She’s trying to push you out. Push our pup out.”

Steve bristled at that. Carol wasn’t any old floozy. Eddie was right, she was making a play for the Harrington fortune. She was a threat to him. A threat to his pup. But even so…

“I don’t know what to do, Eddie. Carol won’t back off just because I say I figured out their game.”

Eddie grinned and stood up, bringing Steve along with him. “You must have mellowed out from the way you used to be back in the day. I remember you dressing a guy down because he bumped into me and refused to apologize. I remember you making that cheerleader cry in less than ten words. I remember you making the mayor speechless! Sweetheart, you could end Carol’s life if you wanted to. The question is, do you want to?”

Steve nodded. “I wanna ruin her for good. But that’s not the only thing I want.” He swallowed as he met Eddie’s gaze, only to find the alpha looking just as intensely at him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Steve’s hands smoothed up Eddie’s chest and suddenly they were sixteen again, hiding away in a guest room while his parents were out for the night. Gone were the titles and roles that had been piled up on him in the past decade. He was just Eddie’s. And Eddie was his.

“I want you”, Steve whispered before capturing his lips.

Eddie melted into it, arms coming around Steve. He had missed this. Getting to kiss him and hold him, and have him. He moaned when Steve’s hand went into his hair. A move that was so familiar, it had him forgetting where he was. But they both heard the heavy front door open and close and broke apart from each other.

By the time Dustin came bounding up the stairs, Steve was able to greet him, door to the guest room closed behind him. Dustin smelled Eddie on him of course but came to the conclusion that he must be somewhere in the house - not that his two dads had just been making out. 

Steve went to keep Dustin occupied, giving Eddie a chance to escape the guest room and pretend he’d been in another part of the house. The three of them caught up in the living room while dinner was being prepared. When it was served, the only other newcomer was Bianca. Tommy would be working late again.

Bianca was only just barely civil to Eddie. It helped that she had a soft spot for her grandson. It also helped that Dustin was such a chatterbox that he dominated the conversation. It gave Steve time to think. About how to handle Carol, about what he wanted from Eddie. Because try as they might, things couldn’t just go back to how they were before. He had a child now. Any scandal involving him would hurt Dustin too. Dustin got Eddie to stay through dessert but after that, Eddie had to go.

“Come on! It’s basically the weekend! Can’t you stay the night?”

Every adult froze, including his mother who was on her way upstairs. Eddie recovered first, smiling as he bent over to get on Dustin’s level.

“Wish I could, bud. You and I can pull all-nighters when you’re at my place, deal?”

“Only if those all-nighters include movie marathons and junk food”, Dustin made him swear.

“I promise.”

“Go ahead upstairs and start getting ready for bed. And that includes brushing your teeth”, Steve said as he walked Eddie to the door. He closed the door and they were both alone in the quiet of the night. “Look, Eddie-”

“I already know what you’re gonna say. And I understand. It was the heat of the moment. You don’t wanna do this.”

“No! Shut up! I do!”, Steve hissed. “I mean, I do, just, not like this. Not when things are so complicated.”

Eddie stuck his hands into his pockets. “Haven’t they always been like that?”

Steve shook his head. “Not in the beginning. It only got messed up when my parents meddled and-” His brain suddenly decided to bring up a similar scene to this. It was night, Steve was on his front porch, telling Eddie to go away. He could blame his parents for that, but Steve was responsible too. “I meant that. I want you Eddie, I do. That hasn’t changed. But can’t I have some time? To think about how it’s gonna be? To deal with Carol and Tommy?”

Eddie took out a cigarette and lit it as Steve spoke. He didn’t reply until he’d taken a drag and breathed it out. “I’ve waited ten years. I can wait a little longer. You’ll call if you need me, right?”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. “There’s no one else I’d rather call.”

Part 9 coming soon

[cherrysurf]

Metanoia | Atsumu Miya X Reader

chapter 14; do i wanna know?

you drove to atsumu’s place truly expecting your time to be wasted. As you knock on the door, you find him looking a little tired and sleepless as he opens the door. A part of you feels bad and finds it weirdly cute. “hey come in” he says scratching the back of his neck, you walk in and then he guides you to the living room where you two take a seat, enough distance from each other but still close enough. you sit there in silence for a moment till atsumu decides to speak “listen i know things have been weird as of late and i just want to explain it all.” he says looking down “go on” you say with a slight tone in your voice “the sydney situation was completely out of my control and i hope you understand that, i never wanted her back. this whole time i’ve been trying to get closer to you, i know my record at the moment isn’t the best, but i’ve really taken a liking to you i know i might’ve not been the most obvious about it but it’s true.” he says looking up at you now, your mind is racing at a million thoughts per second, he felt the same this entire time? a part of you feels bad more than ever, understanding that he’s been trying his own way the entire time, and you’ve been distracting yourself with other things in order for your feelings not to go as deep as they went, ugh you feel like throwing up right now, “i’m sorry too atsumu i liked you too when we first met but to be honest it didn’t feel like you liked me much, and i didn’t know what to do or how to feel i figured i'd push you away and distract myself.” you say looking away avoiding eye contact, atsumu looks dumbfounded at this whole ordeal feeling like he messed up everything but the feeling was mutual. “What if we start over? take things more serious” he says offering “but take it slow?” you say “anything you want yn.” Those words felt comforting, “okay then let’s do this.” but it was easier said than done, there were some things you had to let go before this could start, and one of those things was ushijima. You left atsumu’s place with a small hug and quickly rushed home to fully process everything.

-finally guys they confessed

-i fear this is the only time osamu has been wrong and akaashi was right (at least in this version)

-ushijima will still get a happy ending I PROMISE

Taglist; @heartmaddie @liquidcatt @toorusfangirl @akaashislovee @saintcosette @twiishaa @w2mini @from-mae @exclusiverinaa @gumims

[layraket]

Day 5 - Sunburn

Character(s): Four and Shadow (LU)

Words: 772

Summary: Shadow tries to stay out in the sunlight, Four told him to not do it

Whump scale: 2 (see the full scale here)

Warnings: Burns, it's not that graphic but just to make sure

-

Traveling with the chain has been a whole adventure, literally.

They were all kind and fun, even the veteran who tried his best to hide that soft spot for the younger ones.

Us included. Maybe you, I’m already old enough. Guys we’re all the same age.

While the three colors discussed the fourth was worrying about their secret friend.

Shadow has been living inside their, well, shadow since Link reemerged, them learning this a year after. It was a little hard at the start, but they figured out a way to communicate with sign.

The demon wasn’t completely trapped, with the shard that Vio grabbed from the broken Dark Mirror he was able to become physical. The problem is, this only worked when the sun wasn’t touching him.

“I don’t think it is a good idea” They had this argument already too many times, and Four didn’t wanted to risk Shadow’s life for an experiment.

Wow, Vio not putting someone at risk for the sake of knowledge? That is really new. Don’t start. You know is true!

‘But what if now I’m able to walk in the light? I could convince the others that I’m not gonna kill them!’ The signs were a little sloppy but at least made sense.

“You only have one small shard of the mirror, even with the whole thing the light harmed you.” Four sighed “I don’t think it is enough.”

Normally talking with Shadow would be only limited to signs, but with the rest of the chain occupied and with the excuse of going for firewood communication was easier.

‘We’ll never know!’ Before Four could say anything a figure in his likeness emerged from his shadow.

There was a beat.

Shadow opened one eye to check, then smiled “See? Now I can help you with the fire–“

The demon started burning, in the literal way. Burns were already covering his body and screams filled with pain came with them.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!” Was the first thing that Four said, letting the firewood aside and already trying to cover the shadow being from the light.

“BURNS BURNS BURNS! LINK IT BURNS SO MUCH!” Smoke came from him and the smell of burnt flesh was strong.

In theory this wasn’t a natural body, his flesh was made with magic. So, it is possible with Dark Magic to create a full working body?

Vio! This is not the right time! He’s gonna turn into ash! Do something! Ugh he made this to himself! Let him burn a little Blue that’s too cruel! It’s not my fault that the idiot decided to become roasted cucco– GUYS.

Right. Shadow was being burned alive.

“Hold on a little!” He tried to cover the demon with his body, to give him an opportunity to go back to his shadow, or at least to protect him from the light.

“M-make it stop!” The damage was already big, the burns being bigger than some seconds before and already covering a big part of his face.

If he didn’t act fast Shadow will die. A third time. He doesn’t want to be responsible for it again.

Four lifted him carefully and ran towards some spot where the shadow was more prominent, maybe like that the sun wouldn’t be able to hurt him more.

There wasn’t a moment where Shadow let go of Four’s tunic, tears coming non-stop from his red eyes and the smell of smoke becoming more and more strong.

Finally, in the safety of a tree’s shadow, the demon was able to start healing himself. The damage was big, almost his whole body was covered with sunburns and it made harder to mitigate the pain.

Four finally with his mind calmer, allowed himself to breathe. “Better?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to bring again the panic of the shadow being.

“Mmhmm…” He didn’t dare to let go of Four’s tunic, keeping a death grip that made his knuckles turn white.

“Deep breaths, Shady, keep making deep breaths…” Even with a body that was basically made with Dark Magic, it was very warm. Maybe for the sunlight.

After what felt like an hour Shadow was able to go back to Four’s shadow, now safe in his little hiding spot.

They came back to camp, luckily nobody heard Shadow’s screams and noticed how Four twitched with the mention of how long he took.

The lesson of the day? If Vio tells you that it is a stupid idea, maybe listen to him.

That isn’t true. Shut up. 

[spacequokka]

Ask > Do You Like What You See

Pairing: Taehyung x stylist!Reader Genre: Fluff Rating: PG Summary: It's another game of tug o' war with the one who dubs you his favorite stylist. Word Count: 0.6k Warnings: Language

Happy birthday, TaeTae!

It’d gotten so bad that Taehyung stopped trying to hide. Everyone knew he was into you and he, being the charming sweet talker that he is, got them all to overlook his indiscreet behavior.

Case in point:

“Taehyung, be still.” You frowned, reaching for the makeup remover.

“I can’t help it.” His smirk made it clear that he could, in fact, help it. “You give me goosebumps.”

It was the timbre of his voice coupled with the smolder in his eyes that made it hard to focus at times. And he knew it. Used it like a fucking crutch.

“I’m barely touching you!” You hissed, dabbing at the smudged eyeliner.

“I know but it tickles.” He pouted. You’d never know he was a grown ass man if you didn’t look at him. “You’re just teasing me.”

It was bait. If you told him you weren’t trying to tease him, he’d tell you he wouldn’t mind if you chose to because he “likes that.” If you ignored him, he’d say you were admitting guilt.

“I can get someone else to finish your styling then.” You curtly recapped the pen. You turned to put it down but his large hands caught your wrists.

“Hey, don’t do that. You have no idea how much trouble it is to get into your chair.” His gaze wandered from your eyes to your lips. “I’ll be still for you.”

“Please and thank you.” You forced a professional smile before picking up a brush. “I’m almost done.”

True to his word, he behaved long enough for you to finish with the eyeliner. The dressing room had quieted down as some of the staff left having finished their tasks. Having a cooperative client to work with will do that for you.

Taehyung’s eyes cased the room and a small smirk returned to his stupid beautiful face. “Ooh. We’re almost alone.”

“Yeah, so?”

He beckoned you closer with a finger. You found yourself leaning closer as if he had you attached to puppet strings. “Hey, tell me something: do you like what you see?”

You nearly snorted as you pulled away. “When it comes to you, who doesn’t?”

He scoffed. “That doesn’t tell me anything. I want to know about you and your preference.”

You picked up concealer and a brush. “It doesn’t matter.” You filled the brush with a bit of cream and started dabbing it around his mouth.

“Yes, it does.” He spoke firmly yet with a slight whine. “I can’t take you out if you’re not into me.”

You had to look away and cover your mouth. Once you were sure you wouldn’t laugh, you turned back to him. “No dating coworkers.”

“Meh.” He made a face. “That’s more of a warning than a rule. PD-nim said so.”

“Really. That’s the first time I heard it.”

He sighed and caught your wrists in his hands. “Please.” He looked you in the eyes, face completely serious for once. “You know I’m very much into you. Be kind to me. Throw me a bone here. Or at least put me out of my misery.”

Ugh. The puppy eyes.

You rolled your eyes and looked away, aware that your stupid cheeks were betraying you. He didn’t tease you about it, instead keeping quiet as he brushed his thumbs over the pulse points of your wrists. “You’re…cute.”

He frowned. “That’s it?”

“I mean, if we didn’t work together, I’d consider going on a date or two.” You shrugged and tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let go. “Tae—”

“You can’t say something like that and not expect me to beg!” He turned up the charm, eyes wide and sparkly as he pouted. “Please? Let me take you out. I swear you’ll like it. I can be good.”

“You sound more like a puppy than a grown ass man.”

“Yeah, because I’m trying to be your grown ass man.” He pulled you close enough to kiss. “What do you say?”

[lokiforever]

Hey do you think you maybe write a Loki x reader with a reader who adores singing but is incredibly insecure about it because they can't sing high or low enough to properly fit with any voice type so they don't like to sing front of others? If not that totally OK I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. Have good/night

Hello there, nonny👋🏻❤️

For sure, darling! It's totally fine ❤️

You know, that's basically me, like I live for music but I don't like to sing in front of anyone....I used to be in the our school choir ...but now I don't like to sing in front of people. I'm probably boring you all out ...... 😅

Apologies.. let's begin with the fic/drabble ✌🏻❤️

Hope you all like it, especially you, nonny ❤️🥰

❤️His Melophile❤️

Pairing: Loki x Insecure! Reader

Summary: Loki finds about how highly insecure you are about your singing abilities while you love singing too.No wonder why you never sang in front of him......

Warnings ⚠️🚨 : Loki wearing a tuxedo (after ep2 most definitely, this is) None otherwise, it's pure fluff...

Today was Friday, which ment another of Tony's team building parties. Oh, how he loved parties. You were getting dressed and your dear perfect boyfriend, Loki was to pick you up in 30 minutes. Well...not that you had to go that far.... just have to shuffle through a few floors but still...

If we start talking about for how long you've liked him ... that'll be a long sum and the same was the case with Loki. It was only 2 months ago that you two confessed your true feelings for each other.

You decided to wear a short black cocktail dress which fitted you perfectly..

You were in the middle of deciding your hair style when your thoughts was interrupted by a knock accompanied by the smooth and lovely voice of your boyfriend "Darling?" "Come in, Loki. I'm almost ready, love" you called across the room. As Loki entered both of you a good few minutes just to admire each other.. He was wearing a tuxedo and the ruffles completed the look with his hair slicked back. "Y-you look absolutely ravishing, my darling" "Loki....you-you look... spectabulous" he chuckled "Oh, you seem to like it, love" "I love it! You look ...... words cannot express how much I love it" "Well, thank you, darling"

"Let's go, shall we, my love?" "I just need to make my hair" "Ah, no need it's amazing just the way it is" you chuckled a faint blush creeping up your cheeks "Thank you, my love. Let's go then"

The party went smoothly and now, when most of the guests were gone you and the other Avengers decided to play a game of Truth or dare.

"Point Break, Truth or dare?"(You know who said this) "Truth and stop with that weird name" "Thor, tell us a story of you and Loki from your childhood" said Steve "I could've given him a better one" the billionaire said. "Tony" Nat said with a glare to which he raised his hands up in mock defence "Thor, you start"

"Alright, here it goes - Once Loki transformed himself into a snake and he knows that I love snakes, so I went to pick it up to admire it and then he transformed back into himself and went like, 'Byah! It's me' and he.. stabbed me......we were eight at that time"

Loki now had a smile on his face. And you gave him the "Whoa! That was quite a trick" you said and Thor nodded "I'm so proud of you, love" you whispered to Loki with a chuckle who was sitting next to you as he gave you his signature smirk.

"Y/N, why don't you go next" Nat said "Me? Ok, alright" "Truth or dare?" "Uhh... let's go with Truth" "Name one of your insecurities" this immediately caused Loki to look at you with a gaze of love and reassurance.

"Ugh...no.... fine, I don't like to sing in front of others, be it anyone" you confessed as the God gave you the 'we have to talk about it in private' look.

~~•~~

*In yours and Loki's shared chambers*

Before any of you could say anything, Loki was called for an emergency mission with Thor and a few other Avengers and with what he told you it'd probably take him 2 to 3 days to return ....

You had your ipods on, singing as you cooked. Loki would return by the evening so were cooking dinner for the both of you.

~•~

When Loki entered the apartment he heard your lovely voice as you sang accompanied by the aroma of the food you were cooking. He walked towards the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe as he heard you. You were lost in your own little world, way too preoccupied to notice that you now had company.

When your song ended you turned around, releasing a yelp as you saw Loki standing there "Jesus! Loki, you nearly gave me a heart attack! How long have you been standing here?" "Long enough to hear your beautiful voice"

You turned beet red at his words. "Oh, come on" "Darling...." he said as he started walking towards you "You have a lovely voice, sweetheart" he said, kissing you softly. He lifted your chin up using his thumb and index finger "Loki, I-" before you could protest he pressed his finger against your lips, shushing you. "Ah, ah,ah you'll listen to me now. Baby, it's ok if you don't like singing in front of others, but let me tell you this - you are wonderful in every way, you don't need to doubt any thing about you. " he turned off the stove and picked you up, making you sit on the kitchen counter and softly pressing several kisses all over your face.

"You're perfect, my queen, you're my sunshine. My darling little melophile. I love your voice, when you sing, lost in your own world all I want to do is to just admire you and proudly tell everyone that 'You see that perfect angel right there. Yes, she is mine. That's my girl. She's the one who has my heart and I have hers' I love you with all that I am, Y/N Y/L/N"

His words touched you deeply, you felt so blessed to have him in your life.

He began pressing kisses along your jawline and neck "You're mine, and mine alone" then he looked up at you, his blue-green eyes staring right into your soul with such love and devotion "I love you so, so much, Loki. You're a true blessing, my love. I can't imagine a life without you" you said as you hugged him tightly before he pulled you in a deep, passionate kiss.

"You sound lovely, my darling but I'm sure that you'll sound even better when I'll make you scream my name tonight" he said, picking you up and carrying you towards the bedroom.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Taglist:

@holdmytesseract @allesiaandnx @jennyggggrrr @dishahaldar @eleniblue @lotsoflokilove23 @gruftiela

Let me know if anyone wants to be added to my Loki taglist ❤️

[secretkeeper13]

Day 4: Love

Written for @hinnymicrofic

Words: 786

Note: I’ve been enjoying all of the delightful Hinny micro fics so much that I wanted to try to participate. But I haven’t written anything in months, and what I ended up with is a crack outsider Romione POV of Hinny. So yeah, I’ve completely failed the assignment. Content warning for swearing, reference to a sex act, and Ron’s unfiltered thoughts on Snape

Hermione had just settled into her favorite armchair with a book, Ron lounging on the sofa opposite her, his long legs stretched across the width of it, when the stag appeared.

Translucent and silver, it bounded through their front window, coming to rest in the middle of their sitting room rug directly in front of the hearth.

Harry, she thought. Panic flared within her for a moment until the stag opened its mouth and began to speak. Harry’s voice echoed through the room, the tone of elation immediately assuaging her worries.

Ron, Hermione— you’ve got another nephew! Albus Severus Potter, born at half past eight. Full head of dark hair. He surprised us all by coming a bit early, but he and Ginny are both doing brilliantly. He can’t wait to meet you and Rose tomorrow!

She could picture Harry saying the words clearly, wearing that same look of exhilaration and wonder and pride he’d had after James was born as he’d stared at his son cradled in Ginny’s arms.

She looked over at Ron, beaming, the tears already welling in her eyes, thrilled by the news. But rather than happy, Ron looked stunned.

“I wouldn’t worry,” she said soothingly, “She was 37 weeks, that’s nearly full term, and he says they're both doing well, so—“

Ron shook his head. “Albus Severus,” he muttered slowly, his tone incredulous.

“Oh, that,” Hermione said, now understanding.

“Yes, that,” Ron exhorted. “Albus Severus?!”

“Well… it is a rather Harry thing to do, isn’t it? You know how sensitive he’s been about Professor Snape since the war ended.”

Ron snorted. “It’s one thing to fight to put his portrait up in the Headmaster’s office, but it’s another thing entirely to name your kid after him, now isn’t it?”

Hermione paused. As much as she enjoyed debating with Ron, he had a point.

But unable to help herself (as always), she pressed on. “You know how Harry is. He feels he owes his life to Snape, and I’m sure he wanted to honor that, just like he’s done with Dumbledore.”

“Only Harry would feel he owed anything to the greasy bastard who set Voldemort after him in the first place. Fuck’s sake.” Ron rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

He grimaced, and his tone darkened. “You know what’s even worse— Harry’s gone and named his kid after a bloke who was gagging for his mum. For thirty bloody years.”

“They were best friends as children! Harry said he loved her— you know about the Patronus.”

Ron gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, we all know full well Snape was wanking to that ripped up photo of Harry’s mum right up ‘til the end.”

“Ugh, Ron,” she said, disgusted by the image.

“It’s true. Treated Harry like dirt because of it. And after all that, Harry goes and names his kid after him. It’s absolutely mental.”

“At least it’s only the middle name,” Hermione added, well aware that her arguments sounded increasingly feeble.

“Oh right,” said Ron sarcastically, “because his first name is after the person who spent years setting Harry up to go off himself. Not the least bit of a complicated legacy there.”

She couldn’t help it. Her lip twitched upwards as she suppressed a laugh.

Ron smirked, his blue eyes twinkling in the light from the hearth. “I knew it! You actually agree with me.”

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling wider. “I am surprised that Ginny went along with it, honestly.”

Ron snorted. “Because Ginny’s got such a great record when it comes to names. Arnold the purple pygmy puff. Pigwidgeon.”

Hermione grinned. “Don’t forget about Agatha Bathsheba,” she said, thinking of the cat Ginny got before their final year of Hogwarts.

“Poor kid never stood a chance for a normal name between the pair of them.” Ron paused and looked down, bracing his hands on his knees, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Since the good dead people’s names are all taken, you’ll get the dead people who made dubious moral choices, or else something completely insane. Sorry your parents have a misguided hero complex and a weird affection for the ridiculous.”

Hermione dissolved into laughter. “And you love them for it,” she managed between giggles.

“‘Course I do,” said Ron, his affection apparent. “And the baby too.”

“We’ll floo over with Rose first thing tomorrow. But you can’t tease Harry about this, Ron.”

“I won’t— bloody noble git,” he finished, muttering the last bit under his breath. “George’ll have a field day with it though.”

He stretched his long arms up, folding them behind his head and resting back onto the sofa.

“Oh— and I’m calling him Al.”