#what exactly is up with brother and free the soul???

[borderline-purrsonality]

Just finished zero time dilemma… don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed in an ending since drv3

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 2.6k WARNING: enemies to lovers, teasing, fake relationship

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

The meeting room was lit by cold lights reflecting off an impeccably clean glass table. Charles Leclerc sat at the head, his chin resting on his hand, visibly bored. The tension in the air was thick, and he already knew this meeting wasn’t going to end well. Around the table, members of Ferrari’s PR team sat, along with Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles’ older brother and personal manager.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, crossing his arms. His voice carried the firmness of someone tired of useless discussions. “Charles, we need to talk about your reputation.”

Charles rolled his eyes, setting his phone down on the table.

“My reputation? You mean the circus the media makes out of everything I do?”

“It’s not a circus if you keep giving them material,” Sofia, Ferrari’s PR head, cut in. A woman with short hair and piercing eyes, Sofia was known for her blunt and impatient approach.

“Seriously?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Now you want to control my personal life too?”

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Charles, we’re not here to debate who’s right or wrong. We’re here because your image is directly affecting your career.”

“My career’s fine,” Charles shot back, crossing his arms.

Sofia slammed a folder full of tabloid clippings on the table, making a sharp noise.

“Is it? Because from what we see here, it doesn’t look like it. ‘Charles Leclerc spotted at a party until 5 AM with a mysterious model.’ ‘Ferrari driver involved in a new controversy after a fight at a club.’ This affects the sponsors, Charles. It affects the Ferrari brand.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

“Look, I get it. But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my house?”

“Not exactly,” Sofia replied with a cold smile that made Charles immediately suspicious.

Lorenzo cleared his throat, trying to soften what was coming.

“Charles, we’ve come up with a solution that could help clean up your image quickly while you focus on what really matters: your performance on the track.”

“Great. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clearly impatient.

Sofia leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.

“We’re going to put you in a fake relationship.”

The silence that followed was so deep that you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Charles blinked a few times, sure he’d misunderstood.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’re not,” Sofia replied, serious. “The idea is simple. We want to associate your image with a public figure who’s seen as positive, inspiring, and… balanced.”

“You want me to fake being in love with someone to save my reputation? This is ridiculous!”

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” Lorenzo tried to intervene. “We’re not asking you to fall in love. It’s a contract. An agreement. None of this has to be real.”

Charles laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“And who’s this poor soul you’ve hired for this?”

Sofia smiled, clearly expecting this question.

“Y/N.”

The name hit the silence like a shot. Charles frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard it. It didn’t take long before the girl’s face popped into his mind. She was impossible to ignore on social media, with her impeccable style, viral videos, and appearances at fashion and entertainment events.

“You’re talking about that… influencer?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not just any influencer. She’s the influencer right now,” Sofia corrected. “Everyone loves her. She’s elegant, charismatic, and has a solid fanbase. Associating with her will change the public’s perception of you.”

“You want me to fake dating a girl I barely know and who probably thinks race cars are just fancy toys?” Charles shot back, irritated.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm.

“Charles, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But think of it as a strategy. Y/N isn’t just an influencer. She’s professional, ambitious, and has as much to gain from this as you do.”

���Great. So, she’s doing it for personal gain too,” Charles said sarcastically.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t about what she wants, it’s about what you need.”

Charles sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the table. The idea seemed absurd. He didn’t want to give up his freedom for some farce that, deep down, made no sense to him.

“You guys must be crazy if you think I’ll agree to this,” Charles declared, suddenly standing up. His voice echoed through the room, but no one seemed surprised by his reaction.

Lorenzo sighed, already expecting this kind of response. He knew his brother too well to think he’d accept something so outside his comfort zone without resistance.

“Charles, sit down,” Lorenzo said, his voice firm and authoritative. “You have every right to be angry, but if you keep acting like a spoiled child, you won’t get anywhere.”

“A spoiled child?” Charles laughed darkly, pointing at his brother. “This coming from you, trying to convince me to join this ridiculous show. It’s my life, Lorenzo! I’m not a puppet for you guys to manipulate.”

Sofia intervened, trying to stay professional, but her patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Charles, understand this: we’re talking about your career. It’s not just about you. It’s about the team, the sponsors, the thousands of jobs that depend on Ferrari’s success. Formula 1 is a business, and in this business, your image is as important as your driving skills.”

“My driving skills should be the only thing that matters!” he shot back, pointing to himself. “I’m a driver. That’s what I do. I’m not a celebrity who needs a fake romance to get attention.”

“Don’t be naive, Charles,” Sofia replied coldly. “In today’s world, public perception is everything. You could be the best driver on the grid, but if your image keeps getting tied to scandals, no one will want to invest in you.”

Lorenzo crossed his arms, looking at his brother seriously.

“You know she’s right. You don’t have to like the idea, but you have to accept that it’s necessary.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the knot in his throat only tightened. He hated the idea of being seen as someone who couldn’t control his own life, but Lorenzo and Sofia had a point: the external pressure was becoming unbearable.

“Why her?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

Sofia gave a slight smile, as though she’d been waiting for this question.

“Because Y/N is exactly what you need. She has an impeccable reputation, knows how to handle the media, and most importantly, knows how to play the game.”

“And how are you so sure she’ll agree to this?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“We’ve already talked to her,” Lorenzo revealed. “She agreed. Obviously, she has her conditions, but she’s willing to collaborate.”

Charles laughed, incredulous.

“Of course she agreed. She’s probably loving the idea of being associated with me. She’ll gain even more followers and the ‘Wag’ title. That must be her dream.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Sofia warned. “She’s far from being a superficial girl. If she agreed, it’s because she saw value in the proposal, just like we did.”

Charles fell silent for a moment, processing everything that had been said. He felt a mix of anger, frustration, and, in a way, helplessness. He hated being put against the wall, but he knew refusing wouldn’t solve his problems.

“And how long is this going to last?” he asked, his disgust evident.

“The contract is for a year,” Lorenzo answered. “Long enough to solidify the lie, but short enough not to be unsustainable.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Sofia assured him confidently.

Charles let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I hate you guys.”

“Feel free to hate us all you want,” Lorenzo replied, standing up. “But do what needs to be done.”

Sofia grabbed the folder and gave one last look at Charles.

“Y/N will be here tomorrow to talk officially. Hope you’re ready.”

With that, everyone began to leave the room, leaving Charles alone. He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to accept that, like it or not, his life was about to change.

The meeting room was spacious and well-lit, with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city. Charles Leclerc was already there, on time this time, sitting next to the conference table in a relaxed yet attentive posture. He was casually flipping through a document, but his mind was elsewhere. The decision to accept the deal still felt surreal.

When the door opened, he lifted his eyes and saw Y/N entering with confident steps. She looked calm, self-assured. She wore a fitted blazer and pants that accentuated her confident posture. Her perfume reached him before her voice, subtle yet striking.

“Hope I’m not late,” she said, placing her bag on a chair and giving Charles a brief glance before looking away.

“You’re not,” he replied, giving a slight nod, observing her carefully.

Lorenzo and Sofia entered right after, carrying folders and an air of seriousness.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You both know how important this partnership is, both for the team and for your respective careers.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Y/N commented, not aggressively, but with a touch of realism.

“Not exactly,” Sofia answered, unfazed. “But we expect you to see the mutual benefit in this.”

Charles leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at Y/N for a moment before speaking.

“And you? What do you think of all this?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but maintained her composure.

“I think it’s… unexpected. But I won’t deny it’s an opportunity. And you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

“I think it could work, as long as we follow a few rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered, with a slight smile. “Like, don’t try to kill me in front of the cameras.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, almost genuine.

“I think I can follow that.”

Lorenzo interrupted, trying to keep the focus.

“Great. Let’s start by clarifying expectations. You’ll need to attend events together, create interactions for social media, and above all, look natural.”

“Does that mean we need to get to know each other better?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Charles, this time with less provocation and more curiosity.

“Probably,” he replied, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

Sofia cleared her throat.

“For that, we recommend starting with something simple. A dinner, maybe. Nothing formal, just so you get used to being together outside a professional setting.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to think, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about the idea.

“Seems fair,” she finally said, grabbing a pen to sign the contract placed in front of her.

Charles didn’t say anything but let the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. He grabbed his own copy of the contract and signed it right after her.

When they finished, Lorenzo looked at both of them.

“Perfect. From now on, you’re officially a couple.”

Lorenzo’s statement hung in the air like an uncomfortable reminder of what had just been signed. Y/N grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but hesitated at the door.

“Charles?” she called, without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on complicating this, but I hope you do your part.”

Charles adjusted his watch nonchalantly, as if this kind of deal was something he had mastered.

“I always do.” A discreet smile formed on his lips. “But maybe we should establish a few rules to make sure it works.”

“It’s so nice to see you both so… invested!” Sofia interrupted, letting out a light laugh. “But I’ll leave the details to you two. Just don’t kill each other, please.”

Lorenzo stood up shortly after, giving his brother a nearly conspiratorial look before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When he said goodbye to Y/N, he smiled warmly, as if to say, “Good luck.”

Once the room was silent, Charles broke it with a casual tone.

“So, about those rules…”

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly determined to make everything crystal clear from the start.

“The first limit is simple: don’t touch or kiss me without prior notice.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised, but entertained by her firmness.

“You do realize that’s basically what couples do, right? Touch, kiss, look close… How are we supposed to convince anyone we’re real if we’re so mechanical?”

“I never said it was forbidden,” she corrected, remaining calm. “I’m just saying, don’t do it without a reason or without letting me know first.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything beyond what this contract requires?” He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact. “What happened at the club was just an impulse, not a sign that I’m in love with you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as if analyzing every word he said.

“Great. Then it shouldn’t be hard to keep your hands and lips off me.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a clear challenge, with something more hidden behind that confidence.

“Of course,” he replied, finally curving his lips into a nearly provocative smile. “But I’ve got my conditions too.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, unfazed.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“You have to attend my races whenever you can. And when you can’t, show support on social media. It’s the least I expect.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gonna be your fake girlfriend, not your number one fan.”

“As my girlfriend, you should show support. Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Plus, my fans will love it. It’ll be good for our image.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew he had a point.

“Fine, but I’ve got commitments too. Don’t expect me to be at every race.”

Charles shrugged, still with that annoyingly confident smile.

“It’s a start.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was as if both were evaluating the other, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Y/N adjusted her bag again and took two steps toward the door before stopping.

“One more thing, Charles.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, curious.

“If you want this to work, stop trying to always have the last word.”

He smiled, a mix of challenge and amusement.

“That’s asking too much.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head before finally walking out of the room.

Charles stood there for a moment, staring at the door she had just walked through. There was something about her that made him feel intrigued, and he knew this story was far from simple.

Outside the building, Y/N got into the waiting car and took a deep breath. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” she mused as the driver started the engine.

Back inside, Charles picked up his phone and quickly sent a message to Lorenzo.

Charles: “If she thinks she can challenge me, this is going to be fun.”

On the other side, Lorenzo just laughed as he read the message.

[ushiwakatrash]

The Dekusquad as roommates

According to the new rules, UA has decided to place two people per room.

(This deviates from the original plot line)

See the Bakusquad version here.

Midoriya Izuku  緑谷 出久

Biggest sweetheart

He's honestly a breath of fresh air and is actually very chill as a roomie

He is very considerate of you and is like an older brother at times (maybe kinda like a dad too)

You both have cute little study sessions when exams are nearing

has a very comforting aura that soothes your soul

gives the best hugs especially during a draining day or just when you need it

Is very accepting of everything you do like belting high notes in the shower (he snickers when your voice cracks)

or when you're doing a full on dance routine and he catches you mid act, he just drops his things and vibes with you

Unlike him, you struggle with waking up in the morning and once you are awake, you see him fully dressed, preparing his things for the day

He was the one who woke you up by the way

You rush to take a shower and hear him shout that he's leaving first

When you get out of the bathroom you see your bed made, on top is an apple with a little note attached to it

"HURRY UP!!! ♡"

Iida Tenya  飯田 天哉 

oh god why him

unlike Deku, this mf had a stick up his a-

he was okay BUT THE NAGGING HAS TO STOP

What surprised you is that he was actually good at listening to your concerns and would ask if you wanted either comfort or solutions to your problems

After Iida being your free personal therapist for a while you both started to open up to each other naturally and he used you as his free personal therapist as well

The nagging dies down when you finally start going along with Iida's antics and honestly, he was useful at times

When he gets unbearable you threaten to break one of his glasses on display (you gotta do what you gotta do)

he gives in but looks at you with a stink eye

Screams at you for leaving clothes on chairs

Todoroki Shouto  轟 焦凍

Is doing nothing and just being there the new definition of chill?

that ain't chill, that's just... cold ( ´ཀ` )

The first week he said absolutely NOTHING to you. Just fixed exactly half of the room the way he wanted, old traditional Japanese-style.

Like how did he even do this in a day

The next few weeks were the same but you both occasionally nod at each other just to acknowledge the other's presence

One night you were up and struggled to wrap your head around a topic in your history class which reduced you to tears

Shouto noticed this and headed to your desk to give you awkward but comforting head pats

"which part's giving you a hard time? let me help you."

after passing the test thanks to you roomie's help, you treated him to cold soba the next day (he gladly accepted)

since that day, you started talking more and hanging out more

after MONTHS he finally told you that he was lucky to have you as a friend

and maybe has a slight crush on you but you don't have to know that

(Izuku gives him away though by giggling or sending knowing glances when he talks to you)

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

FALLEN STAR - @h5eavenly (A story of two hurt souls finding comfort within each other in the most unexpected ways.)(🔞)(♡)

OFF LIMITS - @yeonzzzn (your older brother has always told you “no boys” and his friends “sister is off limits”, which always worked…until everyone comes back home from college and you see how grown up his best friend has become…)

CHILLING AND KILLING - @yeonzzzn (ghostface Jake au) (♡)

SURPISE BABY - @alvojake (jake was deadset on making your birthday special even if that meant making you hang out with your friend until he was finished setting up his last birthday surprise.)

AFTER HOURS - @heesbaby (jake sim, bassist of AFTERHOURS and all round terrible guy, so deep in his self absorbed world where everything went his way and everyone fell at his feet. he hardly noticed you moving in next door until he caught a glimpse of you in the hallway. completely uninterested in your neighbour, you did you best to ignore his advances. that was until you found yourself humming along to the songs he practiced every night.) (♡)

WATERMELON SUGAR - @wonryllis (he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.)

MEET ME AT OUR SPOT - @jjunieworld (with the news of your grandma’s depleting health, life has you moving to your mother’s seaside hometown for the summer to your aunt’s. while there, you meet the illustrious player—jake sim—that everyone can’t seem to stop talking about. what you never expected was to gain his attention and spend the three months you’re there falling for him.)

BREAK THE ICE - @jaylver (Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? )

NEW YOU - @sageryuri (all hell breaks loose when you, the heir to the throne, decides to run away to begin a new life. luckily, you experience a surprise encounter with jake sim, which brings upon freeing adventures and sprouts a taboo relationship between a princess, and a poor criminal.)

KIWI AND LAYLA - @asahicore (in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected.)

WEBS OF HURT - @jaylver (Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.)

[cottonconnielvr]

❥MONDAY — c. springer

seven days a week.

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — both are under influence, spitting, usage of 🍃, hair pulling if you squint, fuck idk i suck at warnings just smut at the end leave me alone i can’t deal rn + i’ll come back to edit

CONNIE has been unfocused more than usual. He has high energy usually and is bouncing from task to task but today, he can’t seem to grasp reality.

“Bro is you good?” Onyankopon says in between a laugh. He had been calling Connie’s name for about a minute. Connie looked up from the counter, multiple packs of weed sitting on the counter. Ony was looking back from his spot on the cream colored couch, his dark green tracksuit making him stand out.

“…Yeah” Connie nodded his head at him, continuing to place weed on a scale. “Yeah ight…i’ve been calling your name” Ony walks around to the kitchen island. “Well I didn’t hear you” Connie snaps back at him.

Ony smacks his teeth, bucking at Connie. “Yo sassy ass be around Sasha too much”. Connie shook his head. “You remember that one drop we did at Marco’s yesterday….” Connie suddenly brings up.

Ony looks up, thinking back to the previous day. The party was big, he gave a couple college girls a 3.5 then left by himself. “Yeah…why?” Ony asked in confusion, now wondering if something happened to make him bring it up. Ony and Connie were like brothers, they had committed to this game together. They protected each other all the time.

“Do you remember seeing Sasha with a girl wearing pink beside her?” Connie specifies, thinking back to his first time spotting you.

“Yeah you talking about Y/N?” Connie nods his head, Y/N

“What about her?”

“Nothing, jus asking” Connie lies to Ony. There was something. Connie’s mind had been suffocated by the thought of you. He remembers how you smiled at everyone Sasha introduced you to. He also remembered how you looked up into his eyes, yours red and low.

He told you his name and you told him his– atleast he thought you did. The music was playing so loud he didn’t hear you. But that was the last thing he was worried about, he was focused on the way you were staring him down.

Since he woke up this morning he’s been thinking about the mystery girl who sucked the soul out of him. The mystery girl who’s pussy was the wettest and warmest he’s ever been in.

He cried everytime he came that night, that’s never happened before. He hoped you didn’t notice, not wanting to creep you out. He also wondered if you enjoyed it as much as he did, and if you were thinking about this particular hookup all day as well.

He’s never felt anything like you before. You had to be a crystal bitch or somethingggg like pussy putting spells onna nigga🫃🫃

He just hopes he can meet you again, for a proper introduction.

❥

You sip on your Starbucks Frappuccino, two small Tiffany and Co. bags in your other hand. You were walking down a shopping outlet, deciding to spend your free time shopping. For the past couple of days, you’ve been straight partying. The most recent one was a bit memorable though. You were pretty cross faded and had some of the best sex in your life. You couldn’t exactly remember who it was with though. He was wearing light blue and white, you can accurately remember. Tattoos all over and he smelled amazing. But his name?…..can’t exactly remember that one. You just brushed it off though, maybe he’ll come around again but you weren’t worried.

Your phone started to vibrate in your back pocket. You grabbed it before reading the contact name, ‘Sash🫶🏾🤍’

You pressed the green icon, Sasha’s face appearing on the screen. “You gotta come to this kickback” She says before you can speak.

“Girlll, i’ve been out for days. I think I still have a hangover” You whined, looking up at the Coach sign before walking in. “Well it’s not like an actual kickback. Jean is just throwing a get together,” You sighed, looking down at Sasha as she was munching on some chips. “Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It’s gonna be like fifty people max” She pleaded, bringing her face super close to the camera.

“Okay fineee,” You groan, sipping the last of your Frappuccino. “What’s the dress code?”

“Mmmm… sexy casual” Sasha nodded her head. “Kk, I’m gonna finish up shopping babe. Send me the addy” You said your goodbyes before hanging up.

❥

Connie laid back on Jean’s couch manspreading. He had a blunt in one hand, the other resting on the couch. He had no tasks for the rest of the day and decided on stopping by Jean’s, a mutual friend.

His eyes were already red and low, he could start to feel his munchies kick in. He smoked the last of the roach before putting it out. There’s a good amount of people here. Maybe about 30 or 40.

Some people smoking hookah in the corner, some outside just chatting. The vibe was calmer than what the house parties he usually attends are.

“Ay Con!” Connie looks back from his spot on the couch. “Come take a shot!” Eren called him over,holding up a shot glass. Connie wasn’t much of a drinker but did every once in a while. It simply wasn’t for him. Standing up and walking over to the island, he hears a familiar voice speaking from the door.

“Wowwww shots without us?!” Sasha walks over from the door, you trailing behind her. Connie can feel his heartbeat pick up. It’s you. Your now standing infront of him, looking 10x more stunning.

“Y’all remember Y/N” Sasha gestured to you while snatching the bottle from Eren.

“Hey” You flashed a smile that made Connie jr harden just a bit. Your eyes wandered around the room. Not too many people, but enough for you to have to raise your voice a little if you’re trying to have a conversation.

Your eyes stopped on a pair that were only staring right back at you. You could feel your breath hitch. Holy shit no way

❥

The night has been filled with pure tension. Sexual tension at that. You’ve come to find out that ,mystery boy with a huge dick, name is actually Connie. The entire night he’s had his eyes on you, both of you keeping eye contact. A part of you kept wanting to look back from your spot on the couch. You’d only immediately find his eyes. It was as if you were silently conversing. You both wanted more of eachother, but how do you approach your “one” night stand asking for just another round.

“Imma go get a refill” You say to Jean, passing him the hookah. He nodded before continuing to converse with Sasha.

You walked into the kitchen, holding your red cup in one hand. Much to your surprise, Connie was the only one in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, his head down and all his attention focused on the blunt he was currently rolling.

You walk over to where all the bottles were, Connie’s head immediately lifting as he gets a whiff of sweet perfume. You smile to yourself when you feel his stare on you. You pour a little hennessy in your cup before turning around.

Connie’s looking at you with his eyes low and redder than before. You keep eye contact with him as you sip from your cup. Your gloss staining your cup.

Connie watches you closely, focusing on every single detail about you. He’s wondering what makes you so different from any other girl he’s been with.

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You decide to speak first, breaking the ice. Connie can feel his dick twitch at the sound of your voice, a slight rasp from the burning of the alcohol.

Your thighs clench together as you watch Connie lick his lips. “Shit…..guess I was waiting for you to come to me.” His voice coming out low and deep.

The tension in the kitchen is so high right now, even Ony who’s sitting on the couch can feel it.

A lazy smile breaks out on your face, Connie’s too as he licks the blunt. His eyes never look away from yours, dragging his tongue across the wood. You can even see his tongue piercing that was deep in your pus-

“Mhmm, well i’m here now so…” You trail off, walking a bit closer to him. You can smell his cologne from where you stand. Your intoxication was making this no better for you, as well as the PartyNextDoor that’s playing in the background.

You watch as Connie lights his blunt. He brings it to his lips before puffing twice, just to make sure it’s lit. He sucks in a breath before blowing the smoke out. He reaches his hands out, holding out the blunt to you.

You hesitate before moving closer, taking it from him. You reach for a napkin to wipe your lipgloss off but Connie only grabs your wrist. “You don’t have too, i’m okay with it”

“Oh…okay” You bring the blunt up to your lips, the smoke immediately making you cough. “God damn, strong ass…” You can’t finish your sentence through a fit of coughs. Connie lightly laughs as he reaches to grab an unopened water bottle on the counter.

You could already feel like you were baked off of just one hit, your eyes looking a little sleepy. “I’m already high what the fuck…” You blinked up at Connie.

“I guess i’m just used to it” He hits it again. “You’re literally smoking the devils lettuce. That shit came straight from hell” You take a gulp of water.

Connie could tell you were a lot less tense. For some reason you trusted him like a lot… even though you’ve never had a full conversation with him.

“I enjoyed last night a lot” You lean against the counter, head tilting. You know that you’re being bold all of a sudden but fuck, this man was too fine.

Behind his faux chill demeanor, Connie was freaking out. He wanted to feel you again. He never wanted you to stop talking and he could look at you for hours.

“Yeah, me too” He’s fighting his anxiety, trying not to seem to excited to be talking to you. He was praying, even crossing his toes that he would be able to get another look at your naked body.

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on whether or not you should keep making the moves.

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom” You trail off, not giving Connie another word before walking off with your cup.

Connie almost jumps off the counter, fighting the urge to throw his rolling tray to the side and follow you right to the bathroom. He wanted you to keep talking to him. Connie watched you walk up the stairs, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

❥

“Fuck, talk to me mama” Connie breathes into your ear, your hair roughly tangled around his fist. You can feel him in your stomach, punching your cervix over and over.

“Ah-mmph..I can’t” Your hands hold onto the sink, grasping it harder than you can grasp reality.

Connie feels a bit bad that he wishes he didn’t have on a condom right now, wanting to feel you raw.

“Yes you can, you are now —fuck— aren’t ya?” Connie taunts you, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “I don’t want p-people to hear” Your head rests on Connie’s shoulder.

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to know how much of a slut you are?” Your eyebrows furrow, you were pretty sure you saw tears falling down Connie’s eyes the first time you hooked up. You clenched around him purposely, earning a whine from him.

“Oh i’m a slut?” You lifted your head back up to look at him in the mirror. You used Connie’s vulnerable state to push him off of you, giving him no time to be confused before you drop to your knees.

“What the– fuck” Connie groans out. You watch as this grown man literally slaps his hand over his mouth. Your tongue runs up his cock, licking up all your wetness. You rise up, peeling Connie’s hand off of his mouth. He watched you intently. You squished his cheeks together before spitting your wetness in his mouth.

A part of you feels really really slutty. No man has really made you feel like this. Yeah sure you wanted him but you wanted him to chase after you, not the other way around.

You watch Connie swallow with no hesitation. “You’re cool and all Connie, but I don’t even know you. It’ll take a little more than a blunt.” You watch Connie’s mouth open agape.

He was very very confused. He thought you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You let him eat you out before letting him put his dick inside you. Then you suddenly stop him? What the fuck-

“Just letting you know, i’m a bit expensive” You fix your clothes and hair in the mirror.

“Bye Connie” You sweetly say, before exiting the bathroom, leaving Connie with a rock hard erection.

“Fuck i’m too high for this” Connie face palms himself. No way he just let a girl edge him.

@getoscrybaby @ginger4sugar @cybercandy1 @rintcrous @conniesministallion @junevenile @yourrfavzxri @reinerszn @lowkeysumgyall @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @royalty-cashinout @lovelytayy @starpdfs @syarblu @urmotherswhor3 @simp4tenko @emery-333 @hopefuloperaangelnerd @pinkfqiry @donutsrsweetbagels @katymae12344@urivl @mdibby @dezibou @dramaticOflwer @animeloverzx @y3rn4y0n yOn @honeyxluv @jupittterrrrr @iikatsukii @glossygirrll @severenswife @h3v3n1y + many more beautiful people <3

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Useless

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Demon Dean & little sister!reader

Requested by @abiball027

Synopsis: Dean does some things as a demon that everyone regrets.

Warnings: demon blood addiction, demon Dean gets the reader addicted to demon blood, kidnapping, this one’s kinda dark guys, angst with a happy ending.

Your body was on autopilot as it led you through the bunker. You didn’t even realize you were headed to Dean’s room until you stopped in front of his door, unable to go further. Your hand twitched towards the knob, but you stopped yourself from reaching out to grab it.

There was nothing in there you wanted to see. You didn’t want to look at Dean’s body again; you couldn’t.

You staggered in surprise when the door flung open. Dean’s frame filled the doorway, and it was all you could do to stay upright.

“De…what…” you caught sight of Crowley in the room behind him, and you directed your next words at the king of hell. “You—did you bring him back?”

You didn’t want to wait for an answer; in fact, you were a split second away from throwing yourself at your big brother when Crowley stepped between you.

“I wouldn’t do that; he’s still adjusting.”

“Adjusting? Crowley, what did you do?” You demanded, before shaking your head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell Sam.” You turned to go, but Dean’s hand shot out at an inhuman speed, and he held your arm in a vice grip.

“What—Dean?” You looked up in surprise at your big brother.

“No Sam,” he demanded, but his eyes seemed unfocused. That is, until he blinked and they flashed black. You wrestled your arm from him and stepped back, your hand going to the demon knife at your belt. You pulled it out, directing it at Crowley.

“You…” your voice shook with anger, and you nearly choked on it. “You let one of your filthy demons possess my brother?”

“Not exactly.” Crowley shrugged.

“What—“

Dean interrupted you.

“It’s all me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not possible.” You shook your head. “It can’t be.”

“Oh it’s Dean alright,” Crowley said. “Because of the Mark of Cain, he can’t be killed. I merely brought his soul out of its little…hibernation. Or, chrysalis, I suppose is a better analogy. And now he’s evolved into…well, this.”

Dean and Crowley’s matching grins turned your stomach.

“W-we…” you swallowed, trying to let your mind catch up with your racing heart. “We can fix this. We know how-how to cure demons. I can get Sam and we—“

“No!” Dean’s sudden tone change made you flinch. “I don’t want to be cured, and you’re not going to get Sam.”

“I-I don’t understand.” you shivered.

“No. You wouldn’t.” Dean chuckled darkly. “You wouldn’t understand power.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve always been the weak one, so you wouldn’t understand what having power feels like.” Dean’s eyes flashed black again, and you flinched. “Well I’ve got power now, and I like how it feels.”

“Stop it.” You shook your head, turning to Crowley. “Dean wouldn’t say this stuff. What did you do to him?” You yelped in surprise when Dean’s hands once again grabbed your arms.

“It’s all me, N/N. The new me. The better me.”

You tried to break free from Dean’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Crowley stepped forwards, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We should get out of here while Moose is still gone.”

“You’re right.” Dean didn’t release his grip on your arm. “But I’m bringing her with.”

“What?” You and Crowley asked in horrified unison.

“Dean, you agreed to leave it all behind. You said you didn’t want—“

“I said I didn’t want Sam stopping me,” Dean interrupted Crowley. “She’s not strong enough to do anything to me.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued. “But, with a little help, she could be useful.”

“Help?” Crowley frowned. “How could she do anything for us?”

“She can…” Dean’s eyes flashed black—it seemed to be his new favorite trick. “If I give her a taste of power.” Dean shoved you towards Crowley. “Hold her still.”

Crowley took hold of your arms without question, although he was clearly hesitant.

Dean took the demon knife out of your hands easily, and he sliced a small cut on the heel of his hand.

“What are you—“

Dean took advantage of your mouth being open by pressing the heel of his hand to your lips. You froze up as Dean’s other hand came up to plug your nose.

He’d completely cut off your air, and you struggled as the metallic taste of Dean’s blood invaded your mouth. He and Crowley easily held you still, and Dean kept his hand there for several seconds before moving it so that his palm was covering your mouth. No more blood was going in, but you still couldn’t breathe.

“Swallow and I’ll let you go,” Dean said. You continued to struggle, but it was useless. “C’mon little sister, just swallow.”

You struggled until you felt dizzy and your lungs were screaming. You swallowed almost without meaning to, the bitter taste of Dean’s blood invading your senses. Dean and Crowley released you simultaneously.

You backed away from both men, stumbling against the wall as you gasped for breath. You didn’t even know what to say; you were too confused, too hurt, too scared.

“What was that?” Crowley asked, sounding as confused as you felt.

“Like I told you,” Dean growled. “With a little power, this little rugrat might be useful. And since I’m the one controlling the power…” Dean waved a hand over his cut wrist, and it healed itself. “I’m the one who she has to listen to. The perfect little sidekick.”

You didn’t need to hear anything more. You turned on your heel and tried to run, but Dean grabbed onto your arms and flung you against the wall. The back of your head hit the wall, and suddenly you couldn’t see or feel anything.

…

You awoke to the gentle purr of the Impala, and for a long moment you couldn’t tell what was going on. Were you on a hunt? You couldn’t remember. Then you tried to move your hands to rub your face, and they stopped, impeded by something metal. Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was your hands cuffed to the back of Dean’s seat. Crowley was in the passenger seat, and the memories came back almost instantly.

“She’s awake,” Crowley said.

“Ahh, good morning sweetheart,” Dean grinned, a sickeningly sinister smirk that looked nothing like your big brother.

“Where are we? Where are we going?” You looked out the windows, but the road sides were no help to your poor sense of direction.

Dean just chuckled.

“Wherever we want.”

…

The three of you drove all day, and once the sun lowered behind the horizon line, Dean pulled into a seedy motel. He opened his door and came around to your door. He didn’t unlock your cuffs; instead, he pulled a flask from his back pocket and unscrewed it, bringing it up to your mouth. You knew it was his blood before the liquid touched your lips, but again your struggles were futile as Dean held his hands over your mouth and nose until you swallowed.

“See, that’s not so bad,” Dean cooed even as you shuddered. “A few more of these and you’ll be so hooked, you’ll be begging me for another hit.”

Crowley watched with an unreadable expression as Dean freed your wrists from the handcuffs and led you inside the motel. Within minutes, Dean had you cuffed to the air conditioner in his room, and he and Crowley were off to party at the nearest bar. You tried to wiggle around to reach into your pocket, only to discover that Dean must’ve taken your phone and lock picking kit while you were knocked out. With nothing to focus on, you became acutely aware of the hunger pangs that were becoming more frequent: you hadn’t eaten since you’d been in the bunker. But soon, a different hunger took hold of you. It was unfamiliar, and it hurt worse than normal hunger. Fear began to nag at you, but you shook it off. You couldn’t be hooked on demon blood already, could you?

You couldn’t be sure, and that only flamed your panic. This whole situation was crazy, and you didn’t know how to adjust; Dean, a demon; you, kidnapped; and demon blood being fed to you no matter how much you tried to resist. Your mind played around with the idea that it wasn’t really Dean—that Crowley had lied and it really was some random demon inside your brother’s corpse—but you knew that Crowley, as devious as he was, had no reason to lie.

And that meant that it really was your big brother, trying to turn you into a demon blood addict just so that he could use you.

“We’re back!” Dean crowed triumphantly, snapping you out of your thoughts as he entered the motel with Crowley at his heels. A fast food bag was tossed into your lap, and Dean reached over your head and released you from the handcuffs. You chowed down on the burger without hesitation—you were too hungry to be ornery—noting in the back of your mind that Dean had remembered exactly how you liked your food; maybe he was still in there somewhere.

To your dismay, the food could only satisfy so much, and that unfamiliar pain lingered. You felt your eyes unintentionally slipping towards Dean’s flask, and unfortunately Dean noticed too. A wide grin split his face as he looked from you to his flask.

“Knew it wouldn’t take much to have you hooked,” he said, and when you started to shake your head in a panic his gaze softened—if only slightly. “Hey now,” he soothed, coming to sit by you and pulling out his flask. “It hurts, right?” At your hesitant nod, he continued. “I know it does. Now let your big brother take the pain away, ok?”

His tone was so familiar, and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Soothing words that Dean might say to you before stitching up a wound—but that was not what was happening now. Dean’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a dead indifference that had never been directed at you, not from Dean. Everything felt so wrong, and you were so overwhelmed and hurting that you could do nothing but cry softly as Dean lifted the flask to your lips and forced the liquid down your throat. He didn’t even bother to plug your nose, as you were too tired to fight him—you swallowed with no protest other than the tears tracking down your cheeks.

White hot shame filled you along with the demon blood. You had more fight in you than this, you knew you did. But this was different.

You’d never expected to be fighting against your brother, and that thought alone drained all of the fight in you.

“There it is.” Dean’s smirk turned your stomach, and you were already starting to regret eating that burger. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed onto your shoulder.

“C’mon, I’m gonna cuff you near the couch so you can get some sleep.”

Dean cuffed your hands to the nightstand next to the couch. You could lay on the couch with your arms stretched over your head; it was uncomfortable, but better than the floor you supposed.

To your surprise, you fell asleep quickly, drained from the long day on edge. But it was a fitful sleep, and some time in the middle of the night you awoke panting. It took you a moment to realize what was different; you weren’t handcuffed anymore. You looked down in your lap to see the cuffs in three pieces. You stared down at your hands; had you done that?

A groan from one of the beds had you flinching as Dean sat up. His eyes found you in the dark, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the black abyss that used to be your brothers bright green eyes. Then he blinked, and the green was there, but it wasn’t the same.

“Go back to sleep,” he demanded, and you were laying back down when he suddenly got up. You felt your body shaking as Dean approached you; you’d never been more scared of anyone than you were of Dean right now.

“Seems the demon blood is working,” Dean chuckled as he held up the broken cuffs. His eyes flickered to you. “How does power feel, little sister?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. You didn’t feel powerful. Sure, you could break steel without even meaning to, but you had no power over your situation; if anything you felt more helpless than you ever had.

Unless…

Remembering Sam’s powers when he’d been drinking demon blood, you pushed your hand out in front of you. Before you even made contact with Dean, he staggered back and fell—you had telekinesis!

You jumped up from the couch and ran for the door. It had the door-block on it, but it tore loose when you yanked the door open. You took one stride out into the night air before strong arms wrapped around your midsection and flung you backwards, back into the motel room.

“Your powerful, little sister,” Dean chuckled darkly. “But not more powerful than me.”

You backed away, not even looking where you were going as you tried to escape your approaching brother. Your foot caught on the desk, and you went down hard, but you kept backing away, using your hands to scoot back. It didn’t do much, and when Dean reached you he gripped your shoulder and dragged you to your feet. He shoved you back down onto the couch, and turned and walked out the door without another word. You sat there in confusion until Dean returned—presumably from the Impala—with thick chains in his hands.

“This should hold you for a bit longer.” He smirked. “At least until I can get you so addicted to blood that you won’t leave.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you insisted.

Dean just laughed.

…

The pain was all consuming; you could think of nothing else. You were hungry, too, and thirsty, and your back ached from sleeping on the couch; but none of that mattered. All you could think about was blood.

You found yourself suddenly much more sympathetic towards Sam; sure, you’d felt bad for him—you knew his addiction had hurt like crazy—but you’d never felt it before. It was a new kind of pain in a world where you thought you’d experienced every kind.

What made it hurt worse was knowing that it was your big brother inflicting this pain, and not to get you un-hooked on demon blood; he was doing it to teach you some kind of sick lesson. Or maybe he thought it would get you even more addicted; if so, it was working.

After your little stunt trying to run away, Dean had chained you up to the wall, gagged you, and left with Crowley. That was yesterday; he hadn’t returned, even when night came and went. He knew the withdrawal pains would hit you like a truck; you figured that was the point.

What if it wasn’t a lesson? What if he was just sick of dragging you around, and he left you there? His words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head…

“You’ve always been the weak one…”

You’d always felt that way, but to hear Dean—even a black-eyed Dean—say it out loud hurt more than you wanted to admit.

And the fact that, even with demon blood in you, you couldn’t break out of the chains Dean put on you seemed to aid his description of you.

Were you really so pathetic that you were only useful when pumped full of demon blood?

“Hiya sweetheart, did you miss me?”

You’d been so lost that you didn’t even notice Dean enter the hotel room until he was right in front of you, unlocking your cuffs and pulling the gag down. When he was done, you felt your hands grip onto his arm of their own accord, and your eyes found his pleadingly. You wanted to pretend you didn’t know what you were pleading for—food, maybe? Water? But you and Dean knew all too well.

“You did miss me,” Dean said with a grin. “Is this what you want?” Dean held up a fast food bag. You hadn’t eaten in a day, you should have wanted it.

But you didn’t even look at it.

“No?” Dean put the bag down and picked up a water bottle. “How about this? Not this either?”

“Dean…” you mumbled, your eyes slipping down to your hands. “It…it hurts, Dean.”

“Aww.” Dean chuckled. You knew he was patronizing you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make the pain go away.

“What about this?” Your eyes lifted to see Dean pulling out his flask. You saw a hand reach out for it, surprised when you realized it was your own. Dean wouldn’t let you touch it, though. He pulled it out of reach, shaking his head. “Don’t touch, sweetheart. That’s my job.”

You didn’t move as Dean opened the flask and lifted it to your face. You wished you could pretend that he was forcing you to drink the blood, but it wasn’t true anymore. He really had gotten you hooked.

The only question now was what would Sammy do when he found you?

…

The next few weeks fell into a regime. You tagged along while Dean and Crowley dragged you to town after town, bar after bar, motel after motel. After the first week, Dean stopped using the chains; he didn’t need them anymore. The resourceful, smart Winchester in the back of your mind knew that he was training you like a dog—when you listened, he let you drink from his flask; when you disobeyed, he let you suffer—but there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t resist the demon blood anymore, it hurt too much. And a part of you—the part desperate to please your big brother—didn’t want to. Dean thought you were useless without powers, and you didn’t have it in you to disagree anymore. The only reason Dean even wanted you around was that you had powers. Without that…

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Crowley approached you and Dean.

“We need to talk,” he said to Dean.

“So talk,” Dean said with a shrug. “She won’t bother us.” Dean waved offhandedly at you.

That’s all you were now; the sidekick, the tool, meant to stand aside and keep quiet.

“I don’t think you want her to hear this.” When Dean didn’t respond, Crowley sighed and continued. “Moose called.”

You stiffened, and Dean noticed.

“Go take a walk, N/N,” Dean said. You didn’t argue—you’d given up on that—but you did hesitate. Dean blinked, his eyes flashing black, and you flinched. “I said take a walk.”

You left without another word, but your brain was going a million miles a minute.

Sam called? Was he coming? Would he fix Dean…and you?

…

You returned to Dean when he waved you over.

Like an obedient little puppy, you thought disgustedly. You thought you’d given up on your pride and your dignity weeks ago, but the thought of Sam returning to see you like this brought it all rushing back.

“Here.” Dean pulled out his flask when you approached him. You stiffened and you had to force your head to turn away from your big brother. Dean scoffed, “One mention of Sammy and now you’re all high and mighty?” Dean’s fingers clenched around your jaw, and he turned your chin to face him. “Let me make this clear; drink now, or I won’t let you for the next two days.”

Your breath caught in your throat; the most he’d ever cut you off was for about a day, and that had been one of the most painful days of your life. You couldn’t do it, you knew you couldn’t.

Dean let go of your face, and you tilted your head up slightly, your lips parting just a little. It was all the assent that Dean needed.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed, uncapping his flask.

What had you gotten yourself into?

…

You’d been getting better and better with your powers. Dean had had you practicing, mostly on random demons that Crowley let get too close to him.

The better you got, the more you began to think that Dean was right; you had been useless before, never able to help your brothers. Now you could help—now you had power.

Every time you got better with your powers, Dean would flash you a wide grin—it was cocky, not at all like his old proud smile—but it was good to see nonetheless. It felt good to do something for your big brother. It felt like you were finally repaying him for everything he had done for you.

“Pick a side!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Crowley’s outburst. You had followed Dean into Crowley’s demon meeting after Dean murdered one of Crowley’s clients. After weeks around Crowley, you tended to tune him out, but now he seemed heated, and Dean was tense beside you.

“Or what?” Dean asked before shoving a Crowley across the floor. Crowley got up in a huff, glancing around as if to see if his demons had noticed—of course they had.

“This—“ Crowley gestured between himself and Dean “—is over. You’re too unpredictable.”

“Ok,” Dean said, a nonchalant smile gracing his lips. “How’s this for unpredictable?” And suddenly he was looking at you, eyes boring into you as if you could read his mind. To your surprise, you could; or at least, you knew what he wanted. He wanted to piss Crowley off—he wanted you to exorcise all of Crowley’s goons. You’d only ever exorcised one at a time, which was a far cry from the five that surrounded you now.

Still, your big brother wanted something from you, and you were going to do your best.

You closed your eyes in concentration, holding your hand out as almost an anchor. You could feel the power pulsing through your blood, as if the demon blood was intertwining with your own. You heard screams of pain from the demons, but you blocked them out, hyper-focused. When the screaming stopped, you opened your eyes to see five empty vessels strewn across the floor. Your attention turned to Crowley, your hand still outstretched.

He staggered back a half step, but Dean reached out and pushed your hand down.

“Hey, easy—not him sweetheart.”

Your attention turned to Dean at his words, and there it was; that proud grin. Your lips twitched up even as you thought that you missed the way the old Dean would let you know he was proud of you. The way that he’d smile a real smile, and ruffle your hair, and say, “Good job, kid.”

Instead, this Dean smirked and pulled his flask out of his back pocket, holding it for you to drink from even as he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“You want unpredictable? You want this to be over? Good; I don’t need you, I never did.” Dean capped his flask and turned to go.

He didn’t even look back to see if you would follow; he knew you would.

…

You sat on a stool beside a piano in an empty bar, watching Dean play around with the keys. It had been hours since he’d let you have a drink, but every time you tapped his arm he just snapped at you to leave him be. You were doing just that—sitting quietly and watching your big brother—when the door to the bar opened.

“Sam!” You jumped up before you’d even fully registered that it was Sam who’d walked in the door. When you started towards him, Dean’s voice stopped you.

“No.”

It was just the one word, but it was enough. Your body acted almost if its own accord, stopping the instant the word was out of Dean’s mouth. You’d gotten used to obeying him without question lately, and it was a habit you weren’t so sure you could break.

“Commere,” Dean said, and again you listened, going to stand beside him as he stood from the piano bench.

Your eyes drifted to Sam, who was looking from Dean to you in utter confusion.

“Good.” Dean’s voice brought your attention back to him, and you saw him reaching into his back pocket for his flask. Your stomach dropped to your toes; that was why he wouldn’t let you drink earlier. He suspected that Sam was coming, and he wanted you to be desperate enough to drink in front of him. Your heart caught in your throat as you stared up at Dean, as if he could somehow undo what he’d already done. He just smirked at you as he uncapped the flask and held it up.

Your body was screaming for it—you’d been achy, pain stiffening your muscles for at least an hour—you needed it. Keeping your eyes downcast so that you didn’t have to see Sam’s face, you took a half step closer to Dean and let him tilt the contents of the flask into your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Sam lurched forward, recognizing the substance immediately. “Dean, you can’t! Y/N, stop!”

“Aww, it’s not her fault, Sammy,” Dean chuckled as he pulled the flask away and capped it. “She was never gonna be strong enough to stop me.”

You ducked your head in shame even as your nerves were screaming for more blood. You couldn’t bear to even look in Sam’s direction.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam demanded, panic lacing his tone.

“Made her useful!” Dean insisted, still grinning like this was all a great joke. “You should see her now, Sammy. She exorcised five demons all at once today, I bet she’s pretty tired out.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched up in a small smile at Dean’s words. He was bragging on you to Sam—it was nice to hear.

“Useful?” Sam’s scoff brought the shame back. “Dean, she’s not an object! She’s not some kind of tool for you to use! She’s our sister!”

“So what? She was useless before, a weak and pathetic tag-along. I finally brought some purpose to her life.”

You bit down hard on your lip to keep it from quivering. You kept your gaze down so you didn’t have to see either of your brothers.

“Dean, stop it!” Sam yelled.

“Fine.” Dean shrugged. “You want me to stop? Try and bring her back. She won’t go, I’ve got her hooked more than you ever were.”

Dean stepped back, watching from the other side of the piano while Sam approached you. You kept your eyes on your shoes even as you heard Sam approaching.

“Honey, hey, look at me.” Sam came to a stop mere inches from you. Your breaths picked up as tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to blink them back and look up at your brother. The hate that you were expecting wasn’t there, neither was the disgust or the anger. Instead, Sam’s eyes were gentle; understanding. “I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“But…” Dean’s words swam around in your head, and they were all you could think of. “But without this I’m useless. I wanna be useful. I’m useful, Sammy, I’m powerful!”

Sam’s gaze never wavered.

“But are you happy?”

You stopped. You’d been so worried about being useful to Dean, that you hadn’t even thought about…

Your head shook slowly from side to side, the tears returning. Sam’s gaze softened even more.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sam,” you whimpered, finally letting the tears fall. “I-I didn’t mean to—but I can’t st-stop.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, and you flinched when you felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Shh, hey…” Sam pulled you into his embrace, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head as he rubbed your back. “Honey it’s ok. We can fix this, I just gotta take you home.”

“She’s not gonna leave me, Sammy,” Dean mocked. “I’ve got her hooked.”

“You’re coming too,” Sam directed at him. “I didn’t just come for her. We can cure demons, Dean.”

“Did you even stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn’t have left? And I certainly wouldn’t have gotten our little sister addicted to demon blood just to cut off her supply.” Dean jeered, laughing. “I mean, what kind of brother would do that?”

“Enough, Dean! I’m bringing you back whether you want to come or not.” Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of demon cuffs.

“Do you really think those will hold me?” Dean scoffed.

“We’re about to find out,” Sam sighed.

A hiss filled the air, followed by smoke that separated both of your brothers from your sight.

“Sam! Dean!” Your cries were followed by a fit of coughing when you breathed in the gas. A hand on your shoulder turned your attention to Dean, who was trying to drag you towards the door.

“Sammy,” you protested, searching through the gas for your brother.

“He’s fine,” Dean growled, pulling harder. “Now come on.”

“No!” You yanked your arm from Dean’s grasp. He didn’t try to grab you again; he didn’t think he had to.

“Y/N, come. That’s an order.”

You gritted your teeth, shoving down the pain in your body that begged you to listen to Dean.

“Screw your orders.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black as he advanced on you.

“You little—“

You didn’t hesitate—you lifted your hands and used the telekinesis that Dean had given you to fling him across the room. You turned your back, not even bothering to see where he landed.

…

You found Sam easily, and the two of you made it out of the building after Dean. The minute Sam stepped foot out the door, a man came out of nowhere and knocked him out.

“Sam!” You knelt next to your big brother, glancing in fear at the man who’d hit him. He hesitated when he saw you were just a kid.

“Stay out of my way, or you’re next,” he warned before turning to face Dean. You remembered Dean mentioning that a man was after him; you had no doubt that Dean would win this fight, so you turned your attention to waking Sam up—he was your only chance at bringing Dean home.

“Sammy, come on,” you urged. He only stirred once Dean and the other man were finished their fight—Dean won, but he didn’t kill the other man, to your surprise.

“Just stay here,” Sam instructed, shaking off his headache as he stood, demon cuffs held with his injured arm—you wondered suddenly how he’d been hurt—and holy water in the other hand.

You stayed back as Sam approached Dean from behind. It was over in mere seconds—Dean, distracted by the holy water, was unable to fight off the cuffs that Sam slapped on him.

“Dean, stop! It’s over.”

…

You got into the passenger’s seat after Sam ushered Dean into the back. Sam was outside, passing off the First Blade to Crowley.

“You picked the wrong side,” Dean said, and the sound of his voice made you flinch.

“Says the one in the handcuffs,” you shot back, but your voice was much too shaky for Dean to take seriously.

“Oh, this won’t last,” Dean said, lifting his hands. “And once these come off, you’re going to regret using those powers on me.”

…

You breathed easier when Sam returned to the Impala, and the three of you were off. Sam and Dean were arguing about Dean’s fight with that man, Cole. Sam was convinced that because Dean let him live, there was still some good in him.

“Letting him live was the worst thing I could’ve done to him,” Dean chuckled. “And that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to you.” Sam swallowed nervously, but Dean continued. “Or to our little sister.” You nearly jumped out of your seat when Dean kicked it.

“Stop it,” Sam demanded. “She…she didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, she picked her side,” Dean insisted. “And she picked wrong.”

…

You were shaking by the time the Impala reached the bunker. Sam kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the symptoms; you needed more blood.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he stepped out to get Dean. “I’m gonna get him settled downstairs and I’ll come back for you.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam returned and led you to your room.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He asked gently. You nodded.

“Tie me down and lock me up, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t want to, but—“

“But there’s a demon in the bunker, and I’m about to go through extreme withdrawals,” you finished. “I-I know Sam. It’s not your fault.” Your gaze was glued to your fidgeting hands.

“Hey, look at me.” When you met his gaze, Sam continued. “It’s not your fault either. I know you didn’t want it.”

“I started to.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Af-after a while, I started to want it. The power…all of it.”

“It’s ok.” Sam pulled you close, and his embrace made you feel more at home than you had in weeks. “I know how that feels, but we’re gonna fix it. I’m gonna be right here.”

When he pulled away, you took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

…

You were wrong. Dead wrong, and so was Sam. Sam was killing you, you were sure of it.

Of course, that was the withdrawal talking, but you were too far deep in your pain to know that. All you knew was that you’d never hurt this much in your life, and the way to make the pain go away was right downstairs, but Sam wouldn’t let you near it.

“I need Dean,” you cried for the thousandth time. “Sammy, please!” You were in too much pain to even notice that Sam wasn’t there, and he hadn’t been in to check on you in a while. In fact, you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the door opening, and the very person you were begging for walking in.

“I told you you picked the wrong side,” Dean chuckled, his voice grabbing your attention.

“Dean,” you whimpered, in too much pain to be scared or curious that he’d gotten out. “Dean, please.”

“You know—“ Dean sighed as he began to undo the straps holding your legs. “You talk too much.” Once both your legs were free, Dean made his way near your head. You swallowed hard as Dean picked up a knife that you’d left on your dresser. “So I think I’ve found the perfect punishment for you. I mean, you did use your powers on me. Did you think I was just going to forget that?”

“P-punishment?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Dean glared down at you, his eyes flashing black. “First, I’m gonna cut off your tongue. Then, I’m gonna give you so much blood, that you won’t be able to think straight. Then you’re gonna help me kill Sammy, then Crowley. And if you ever disobey me again, I’ll slit your throat.” Dean grinned. “How’s that for a little brotherly love?”

Dean’s knife was inching closer to your mouth, his other hand gripping your face to keep you still, when the lights went out. Dean released you, and a tense silence filled the bunker for a moment or two before the emergency lights clicked on, red light casting an eery glow throughout your room.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Dean said to you. “Now that I know where Sammy is, you can wait; after all, you’re not going anywhere.”

All you could do was watch as Dean turned and walked out, intent on killing your brother.

…

You were struggling against the restraints to no avail when Sam came bursting into the room.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded, alarmed when you suddenly burst into tears.

“I-I thought he was gonna kill you,” you cried.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Sam assured you as he started to undo you restraints.

“Don’t!” You insisted. “I’m…I don’t think I’m clean yet.”

Sam halted his movements, his eyes trained on your face.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t get the chance.” You sniffled. “W…where is he?”

“Chained up again,” Sam sighed. “Cas is watching him. I think…I think maybe he’s almost human now.”

“Go to him,” you insisted. “I’ll be ok here until I’m clean, really.” Somehow, Dean’s threats had strengthened your resolve to stay away from demon blood. “Go bring our Dean back.”

…

“I want to see her.”

Sam was adamant. “You can’t, not yet.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his newly-freed hands over his face.

“Why not?”

Before Sam could answer, a cry of pain could be heard from your room. Sam cringed.

“She…she’s still in detox. She could go nuts if she sees you, even though you’re not a demon anymore. We can’t take that chance.”

Dean didn’t argue; he knew Sam was right. Still, the next two days were complete torture as he was forced to stay away from you, listening to your pleas for him. Every time you called out his name was a reminder that it was Dean’s fault that you were hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering over and over under his breath every time you cried out; he was desperate to tell you in person.

After those awful two days, the screaming stopped. Dean was already halfway to your room when he was stopped by Sam.

“She’s ok,” Sam insisted. “I think she’s clean. I just took her restraints off.”

“Ok,” Dean said simply, trying to move past Sam and toward your door. Sam moved in front of him.

“She’s sleeping. She needs it.”

Dean deflated, discouraged.

“What is this, Sam? Are you really trying to help her, or do you just not trust me?” He knew he was being unfair, but he had to know.

“It’s not about you,” Sam assured him, clearly pushing away his hurt at Dean’s implication. “She needs rest. Besides, I…I don’t know how she’ll react to seeing you again, and I don’t want to push her faster than I need to.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, before finally asking the question that had been nagging at him for days.

“Do you think she hates me?”

Sam looked pained, as if he had expected the question.

“Right now I…I almost wish she did,” Sam said. “Because I think she hates herself more than anything.”

…

You’d been awake for about twenty minutes, but you hadn’t moved. At least, your body hadn’t moved; your mind was going at a breakneck speed. You remembered briefly that Sam had said Dean was cured, but you couldn’t be sure if you’d imagined it in your withdrawal fog. You were pretty sure that most of yesterday had been a hallucination. Sam had insisted that he wouldn’t let Dean in, yet there he had been, jeering at you, saying again and again that the second you were clean, you’d be useless again.

You knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But the hallucination had been right anyway.

The sound of the door opening had your head turning, but your mind still hadn’t left its dark corner.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, and even though the door was only open a little, you could see Dean standing behind him. That only lasted for a moment before Sam squeezed himself into your room and shut the door behind him. “How are you?”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” Your eyes remained glued to the door where Dean had been standing, even as you sat up.

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course he does, I just…I wanted to check with you first. Are you gonna be ok to see him?”

You nodded. “If…” you were suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing Dean after everything. “If he wants to.”

“Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

Shame bubbled up in you as you thought about the past few weeks, and you ducked your head, unwilling to answer Sam’s question. He didn’t push it; instead, he turned to go, leaving the door open so that Dean could take his place.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted gently, and you heard rather than felt your breath pick up at the sound of his voice. You kept your eyes downcast.

What did Dean think of you? You remembered how disappointed and angry he had been with Sam when Sam had gotten hooked on demon blood. Would Dean hate you now? Would he finally see you as the burden you’d always been, now that you didn’t have powers anymore?

“Sweetheart, would you look at me?” When your eyes met his, you saw not anger or disappointment, but sadness. That was too much for you. The tears came suddenly and soundlessly. “Oh, kiddo…” Dean sighed, reaching his hands out to comfort you. However, you’d spent too much time with the rough, angry demon Dean to see comfort in his hands. When you flinched back, Dean stopped immediately, returning his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, I…” Dean’s voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to scare you, I just wanted to apologize. I know that doesn’t make up for what I did, but…but I wanted you to know.”

You looked up suddenly, not surprised but doubtful. You’d expected an apology from Dean, but you hadn’t expected it to sound quite so sincere; you’d expected underlying disappointment at least.

“You…” you swallowed. “You’re not upset with me?”

“With you?” Dean was confused. “Why would I be upset with you?”

You ducked your head as the tears returned.

“I-I was weak,” you choked out. “I’m still weak.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean tilted your chin up with his fingers, his hands as gentle as could be on your skin. “None of this—not one bit—was your fault. I did this to you, and I don’t blame you, not for a second. Understand?”

You were shaking your head.

“I-I should’ve—“

“There was nothing you coulda done to stop me,” Dean said, self-loathing lacing his every word. “And I know how impossible it is to stop on your own after you’ve started, I’d never blame you for getting addicted.”

You stayed silent as you processed his words. Once you had, you felt the need to speak again.

“I don’t blame you either,” you insisted. “You weren’t the same—demon you. It wasn’t anything like you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Dean looked dubious, but he also didn’t bother to argue. Comfortable silence reigned for several minutes before he spoke again.

“How do you feel?”

“Starving,” you answered honestly, to which Dean smiled.

“You wanna take a little trip? You and me, I’ll take you to get some food.”

The idea of Dean bundling you into the Impala and driving off—without Sam nonetheless—had terror gripping your heart, accelerating its pace. You didn’t blame Dean for what he’d done, but the memories were still all too fresh.

“Or,” Dean countered, instantly noting your panicked expression. “Or I could go and get something to bring back, and you, me, and Sammy could have a movie night?”

You nodded—that sounded perfect. Dean was just turning to go when you stopped him.

“Dean? Does…is there any part of you that wishes I’d stayed that way?”

“What way?” Dean’s brows drew together, whether in concern or confusion you couldn’t tell. “You mean, addicted to demon blood?”

“I just mean…” you struggled to force the words out. “I mean…useful.”

Deans face fell, and you regretted asking.

“What?”

“I-I mean, I don’t really do anything around here. At least then, I—“

“Stop.” You weren’t sure if it was the seriousness of his tone, or the fact that you’d spent the last few weeks obeying his every word, but you shut up immediately when Dean spoke. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Dean said slowly and deliberately, and again you stayed obediently silent. “Nothing about what I did to you was good, ok? And you are not useless. Actually,” Dean waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. “Forget about use. Sam was right, you’re not some tool, ok? You’re important to us, and not because of what you can do. But even if it was about that, you do so much for us. You’ve been with me and Sammy through everything, and that matters way more than you moving stuff with your mind, ok?”

Despite the tears that were still falling, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“Ok, Dean.”

“Ok,” Dean said with a firm nod. “Go find Sam, and I’ll head out for food.”

You stood almost mechanically and headed for the door without a word. Dean recognized your stance with a silent horror.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was shaky as he reached out and grabbed your hand. “That…it wasn’t an order, ok? I’m not making you do anything, I—“

“I know,” you interrupted, understanding his horror. “It’s just…habit, I-I guess. Shut up and obey, you know?” You wished you hadn’t added that last part when you saw Dean stiffen ever so slightly, swallowing hard.

“I’m so—“

“Don’t apologize again,” you pleaded. “I forgive you, ok? I-I guess I just need to unlearn some things.”

Dean nodded, but you could tell he was still beating himself up inside. You took two strides and reached him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms enveloped you entirely, and you realized that you’d forgotten how much you missed him.

“Tell me if I can help with that, ok?” He said.

“Ok,” you promised. “Now go get me some food, I’m starving.”

Dean’s chest rumbled next to your ear as he chuckled.

“Yes ma’am.”

Taglist:

@mrvlxgrl @nyotamalfoy @chocorade @inlovewhithafairytale @aestheticdaisies @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

Fic Taglist:

@just-levyy @mfstargirlsworld

[revenantghost]

Man, I think the best and worst part of Knives’s character is just how compelling he is*

I get it. You get it. We all understand exactly how and why he is the way he is. So many people have put this idea into better words than I could. He witnessed an unspeakable horror at an incredibly young age. He knew he was different, that he was other, and a worry set deeply into his bones that humanity would reject him for being born who he is. 

And he was right. It was so much worse than he could have ever realized. He was born to be an object for humanity to use as they see fit. All he wanted was love and peace for himself and his brother. And after seeing that? What they did so mercilessly to Tesla? Who can blame him for not believing in any future with humanity in it. Who can imagine a future without unbelievable strife and prejudice when you’re outnumbered and are seen as an item to dissect and toy with as you see fit

And yet

And yet

In his fear, in his need to control and correct, the cycle continues. The abused becomes the abuser. He assaults his brother multiple times. He takes away Vash’s autonomy and manipulates his body without his consent. Hell he happily experiments with/tests and uses Vash’s body while unconscious. He says he loves Vash while refusing to hear a word coming out of his mouth. Because, if he has a moment of doubt, any hint of weakness, all of that anger slips away and he becomes that boy again--afraid and weak and alone

In his fear, he takes plants. He strips them of their independence and will, denying them their souls. Again, he uses the bodies of his siblings against their will. He displays their corpses to keep him angry instead of putting them to rest. He kills and breaks apart the body of his sister so that he doesn’t have to die, so that he can be reborn. He willfully denies the thoughts, dreams, and pains of his sisters and instead absorbs them, impregnates them, tries to kill them in the “right” way

In his fear, he drove humanity into hurting his kind more. He forced their hand into injuring and killing more plants than they’d ever dreamed of harming. He’s the one that put Vash into a constant position where he’s gaining mountains of scars. (His brother who, on the opposite end of the spectrum, has let the cycle of abuse continue while using himself as a shield instead of breaking free from the pattern.) He uses and discards the humans near him no matter the kindness and devotion they shows him

The same behavior Knives shows everybody and everything else

He’s awful. Absolutely sick and perverted and so stuck in his own mind that all he does is hurt and hurt and hurt

And yet

I get it. I’ve been traumatized to the point where all I want to do is cause pain in return. To feel that justice can exist and will come to pass, no matter the cost. To be so afraid that anger is the only safe emotion you can cling to. It’s what makes him one of the most compelling antagonists I’ve ever seen. Kudos to Nightow for fucking me up about Knives and his pain more by the day, honestly

*Except for ‘98 Knives lmao, that man is fabulously unhinged and overly dramatic about everything and I love him for it

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which Junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

THE SIGN ON YOUR HEART SAID ITS STILL RESERVED FOR ME

edward elric x f! reader

you remind edward how beautiful you think he is.

smut (ish), 18+, body worship, soft, lots of cuddling, mentions of insecurity and (edward’s) trauma, edward cries during sex lol

inspired by the alchemy

edward has a complicated relationship with love.

he knows he has people he loves, people he holds dear to him. he knows that there are people in his life he'd sacrifice an arm and a leg for, people he'd risk everything to feel their warmth. not all sacrifices came to fruition. but he knew he'd do it.

most around him underestimate the guilt he carries upon his shoulders. the guilt of failure, the guilt of knowing the truth. edward was wracked with the burden of knowledge- the knowledge that he might not be able to reverse his mistakes. its accepting love from others that edward struggles with the most.

edward feels his mothers love far in-between. he feels it when he shovels a warm, nostalgic bowl of stew into his mouth, wondering what exactly made milk of all ingredients taste so good. he feels it when he ties his golden locks into a woven braid, trying to replicate the way his mother's fingers would knit her own auburn locks. she made fixing her hair look like the northern lights. he felt the sensation of love, but more strongly, a burning firey passion as he remembers the embers that erupted from his childhood home. he remembers the orange glint against his brother's armor as he burns down his home and his past, swearing only to return when he is whole once again. edward feels the remnants of her love blow past him as he stares at the rolling green hills of resembool from the train window, heading towards the sunlight. he was never the religious type, but he sometimes thought that his mother was in the sun now, shining down on him and al.

edward feels guilt-laced love from his younger brother, alphonse. he still finds himself waking up in a cold sweat, hearing his younger self plead with the universe to give him his brother back. he'd sacrifice his arm, his soul, he'd give it free if it meant al’s life- and he did. edward tightens his fist as he remembers the day, not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that he'd sacrifice his arm over and over and over again to save his brothers soul. but the same fists that once burned with determination fall apart with grievance, as edward eyes shake with ghostly tears. is it his fault that al is trapped in a suit of armor? is his fault al lost his body? they should have taken me. he thinks. it would be sick for the truth universe to sacrifice his whole body, but taking away his dear younger brother was much more twisted. his eyes stare with promise at alphonse as he rests, promising his soul that he will restore what has been lost. his love for his brother ran deeper than the sea. edward's desire for his limbs back is placed on the backburner, putting alphonse back together is what allows edward to rest with a smile on his face.

edward isn't always sure how to feel your love.

he himself, feels incomplete. but with you, he feels liquid sun being poured into the crevices of the heart he bared to you and only you. beyond just his automail limbs, edward's body was scarred in and out. painful echoes of his past embedded into his skin. stories of loss, determination, and a want to feel complete lingers in his ribs as you kiss his skin, treating him like a delicate masterpiece. he isn't much sure of how to feel, or why he feels good. he was a man of science, a prodigy of alchemy, but your love was a encryption he could not decipher.

he always seems writhe when you touch him, your fingers running across his toned abdomen making him feel heaven-struck. he sighs your name, gold locks lazily thrown over his shoulders as his head dips into the nape of your neck. his metal arm pulls you closer to him, the cool metal contrasting with the searing warmth of your arousal. edward allows his lips to press against your collarbone, nipping at your skin reminding you of his presence. he may not have always accepted your love, but he sure as hell was going to make you feel his. all of it.

you rip a deep groan from his chest as your hands as you straddle his waist, your delicate fingers caressing where the metal met his scarred chest. "edward." your siren voice tears through the gasps and soft moans that filled his bedroom. "relax. its just me."

his golden eyes flicker up at yours, pulling his lips away from your skin. he made sure to leave loving-red marks right across your heart, as if he were writing his name in a special code reserved for you. his eyes are hazy and love-drunk, looking up at you like you're the only thing in this universe that matters. his arms, human and metal, strong and toned, hold you to his waist as if you would be ripped away from him at any moment.

"s-sorry." he heaves, his voice was deep and honeyed, eyes not breaking contact with your bare body for even a second. his voice was apologetic, but he couldn't hide the lust and hunger that formed in his chest and seeped out through his eyes. well, its not like he tried to hide it.

your hand moves up to caress his jawline, pressing your lips to his temple. "give in. let me love you." your voice is gentle, but you mean it as a desperate plea. loving edward was not an option; loving edward was an obligation. loving edward was as essential as the veins that pumped blood through your body. you wouldn't stop loving him, even if you wanted to.

edward's eyes screw shut. "only if you let me love you too."

your lips curve into a smile, and then into an O shape as edward presses his mouth to your chest, kissing your breasts with soft, fervent messages of love. his kisses sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, only growing more intense as he moves his arm up to cup your breast. he massages the tender flesh, treating you as if you were sacred. each one of his touches, his kisses, and his grasps was his way of giving his soul over to you. right now, edward felt as though it always belonged to you.

his golden eyes watch longingly as you throw your head back, taking the opportunity to kiss your neck. he gladly sinks his teeth in, as if leaving the seal of his love on your skin. edward loved you like it was breathing for him. he hoped that people would see your effervescent beauty, but more importantly the lovebites left on you, and know that edward elric was the one that marked them there. they spelled out 'mine' in a way only edward could decipher it.

your body is buzzing and hot with arousal. you feel the warm feeling start at your chest, slowly moving down your stomach and then to your core. edward hums satisfied against your skin, as if able to feel exactly what you feel right now. the pink tinge on his face suggests a linger of embarrassment. he had never showed this much of himself to anyone. it were as if kissing you and worshipping you distracted himself from his pains, allowing himself to esca[e in the shelter of your touch.

you run your fingers through his golden locks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as his lips press themself over and over again to your chest. he wants to feel you, all of you, and just you. if his attention wasn't tied to some old book on alchemy, then his mind riddled itself with trauma. his brain spent hours writing equations, deciphering codes, tying all his pains, regrets and wrongdoings into a messy puzzle of hurt. his mind was a labyrinth, a maze that not even he could escape from. you were his refuge, you were his safe place. he worries he's killing the mood by being so nervous, not able to look up at you as he's kissing your chest.

but as you sit atop his lap, kissing his head and whispering a melody of "i love you" and "you're doing so good" you tell him that its okay. that its okay to feel good, that its okay to trust, that its okay to be loved.

you place your hands on his chin and pull his head to face you. you take him in, all of him- his hazy, sunset eyes and his blonde hair messily thrown over his muscular shoulders like a golden waterfall. every contour of his muscles scream at you to love him stronger, the way the scars paint stories over his heart. there was no space left between you two. your skin on his, two souls colliding with one another.

"how do you feel?" your voice is just barely above a whisper, looking deep into his eyes with yours. he cant help but let his eyes wander down, watching the way you fit so perfectly on top of him. the way your breasts are covered in marks, his marks, the way your thighs spread to straddle him, he can feel your wetness on him, the heat of your love radiating just for him to bask in. its almost too much.

"good." edward breathes out, words failing him at this moment. but its enough for you. he is enough for you.

your hands make their way down to his shaft, stroking the length in your hands. edward bites his lip, head moving back as your hands work diligently to pleasure him. you kiss just below his ear, reminding him of your presence. "its okay." you coo.

he takes that as permission, allowing soft moans and grunts to escape his mouth. his voice is raspy yet heavenly, the vulnerability and trust manifesting as pleasure coursing through his veins. he sighs, never feeling this much pleasure in his entire life. slowly, you lower yourself onto his cock, sucking in a deep breath as you feel yourself stretch around him.

"fuck." edward hisses, feeling your warm, tight walls around his length. his grip around your waist tightens, as if still wishing to pull you in closer. you hands travel up to his shoulder blades, digging your nails into the his soft skin while you adjust to his size. the warmth is intoxicating for him, feeling tears bless his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. he's so embarrassed, feeling a stray tear escape down his cheek. he doesn't think he deserves it. to feel this good, for his incomplete and ravaged body to be granted this much pleasure. for an angel to touch him after the taboos he's committed. edward knows equivalent exchange, and he knows that none of this is good is equivalent to all his wrongdoings.

but that's what love does sometimes, he concludes as you kiss the tear away from his cheek. you don't say a word, but rather you silently tell edward that its okay. fuck, he was starting to love being loved.

the tears cease to stop as you continue to grind on his length, the pleasure overtaking the both of you. your mind is blissfully blank, letting your body speak love to the crevice's of edward's soul. he watched as the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, like the tide of the ocean washing away any painful memories written in the sand. the bed was unmade, the sheets were crinkled, the clocks ticked s time that you two should have been sleeping, but none of it mattered now. the greatest moment of intimacy you and edward ever shared was not when he removed his clothes to bare skin. it was when he allowed you to see him at his lowest moment, letting you witnessed the most unloved parts of his body and his soul. as he slowly unraveled in front of you, feeling his orgasm slowly approach, he worried his imperfections may scare you off.

but you kiss him, kiss his lips so perfectly, you remind him that you'll love him anyway. you'll love him not in despite of his imperfections, but because of his imperfections. it was who he was- edward elric was everything you wanted love to be. and more.

edward tears a groan from his chest as he feels your wet walls clench around him tighter than ever before, unable to hold back his thick release. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you closer as if to hide. he wonders if it always felt that good.

"s-sorry. i did it to early, shit i-" he rambles, and you can't help but giggle. it was rare when you could witness him so vulnerable. you shush him, pecking his lips and reminding him that its okay.

"you were perfect, ed." you reassure him, your voice cutting through all his worries and doubts. thats all the permission he needs to pull you down onto the bed with him, laying you down on top of him. you know he doesn't like to sleep on his side because of the weight of his arm. he also didn't to be away from your warmth, not even for a moment. he reaches over, pulling the crinkled sheets over both your bodies. a warm hum escapes from his lips, his entire body feeling as blissfully sweet as honey.

"how do you feel?" he checked in with you, his hand travelling up to cup your chin. he studied you, a part of him still being unable to accept the fact that you're real.

"loved." you hum. edward's kissed lips curve into a soft smile at your words.

"good. i want you to feel my love. always." he reminds you as he kisses your temple. even if edward didn't always accept love from others, he'd be damned if he didn't give every ounce of his love to you.

"how do you feel?" you redirect, checking on him. his blonde eyes stare to the ceiling, the gear s in his brain pondering for a moment before pinpointing the right word.

"complete." he concludes, planting one last kiss to your head before letting the two of you drift off into sleep. edward felt complete with you.

[amazingmsme]

Special Delivery

AN: still catching up on tickletober & I just had to start with our favorite fish boy! Inspired by some headcanons I got a while ago with Hermes & Poseidon, & after 600 strike I think we all need this. Without further ado, here’s day 29’s fic!

Poseidon was dosing off on his throne when a familiar agitating voice startled him awake.

"Knock knock darling, I'm coming in," Hermes said, waltzing through the cave entrance to his lair like he owned the place. Poseidon leveled him with a glare.

"To what do I owe the displeasure?" he asked, propping his chin in his hands as he slumped forward. Hermes scoffed, taking a step back.

"Well excuse you, but I'm just doing my job!" he huffed as he dug through his satchel. "Special delivery," he held out a wax sealed envelope, yanking it back each time Poseidon tried to snatch it.

Hermes reeled back and tutted, shaking his head. "What's the magic word?"

Poseidon growled and snatched his wrist, yanking the paper from his hand. He yelped as he squeezed his wrist, trying to twist free to relieve the pressure.

"Okay ow, ow!" he complained, rubbing the soreness away.

"Oh shut up, I barely touched you. What is this, anyway?" Poseidon asked as he turned the black envelope over in his hands. It bore a crimson seal with three howling wolf heads. Great.

"A formal invitation down below. No rush, just whenever you get the chance to stop by," Hermes explained, sitting on the throne and making himself comfortable by throwing a leg over the arm of the chair. Poseidon sneered down at him.

"If my brother wants to speak to me, he can come up here himself. I'm not going back to that shit hole, I've got an ocean to run," he brushed him off.

"See, he knew you'd say that," Hermes mused. Poseidon rolled his eyes, yanking him up from his throne. Hermes giggled and held his hands up in surrender. "But he's completely swamped at the moment! Turns out sorting over 500 new souls is rather time consuming."

Poseidon couldn't help but smirk when hearing his brother's plight.

"I thought he'd appreciate the gift. He's always looking to expand his kingdom," he said thoughtfully, leaning back in the stone chair.

"Pft, yeah, good one," Hermes chuckled, nudging him in the ribs playfully. He didn't expect Poseidon to jerk away so violently, going completely stiff as he leveled him with a cold glare.

"Don't fucking touch me," he threatened through clenched teeth. Hermes gasped, a hand flying up to cover his delighted grin.

"What's this? Don't tell me the great, fearsome Poseidon is a little bit ti-"

"Don't you have more mail to deliver?" he cut him off, his tone harsh. Well, harsher.

"I think that is the rudest thing you've ever said to me," Hermes dramatically proclaimed, smirking when he Poseidon rolled his eyes. He could've sworn his lips twitched upwards, if only for a moment.

"It's not," he said matter of factly, leaning back in the throne. "Trust me."

"Do you just pride yourself in being an asshole?" he asked, his amusement only growing.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Hermes tossed his head back with a shrill laugh. Poseidon winced away at the sound.

"You'll never be my favorite uncle with that kind of attitude," he taunted. Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah right, like Hades is so much better," he scoffed, but when Hermes didn't answer, he looked him up and down in shock. "Seriously? Ugh, whatever. I always knew you had bad tahahaste! I said dohohon't touch me!" he growled, reaching down where he felt Hermes scribbling his side. Only, there was nothing to grab.

"Whahahat the-"

"What's the problem?" he asked smugly, cocking his head. "I'm not touching you, am I?"

Poseidon didn't know what exactly he was doing, but he knew he was doing something. "Y-you lihittle shihihit! Stohop it right nohohow or I'll kihihill you!" he threatened. Hermes only laughed at him.

"Will you?" he taunted, flicking his wrist to shove Poseidon against the back of his throne. His arms were held down against the armrests, and he couldn't bring himself to stand no matter how hard he tried. "How exactly do you plan on going about it?" His casual tone was infuriating.

"You dohohon't wanna knohow," he choked through deep chuckles.

"Oh, so you're bluffing! Good to know!"

"I am nohohot! Lehet me gohoho now!" he demanded, but he sounded significantly less scary than he intended. The most he could do was arch his back and squirm.

"Thanks, but I'll pass. This is the most fun we've ever had together! Wouldn't you agree?" Hermes taunted, cocking his head to the side. He snapped his fingers, and it felt as though the sensations doubled. Poseidon yelled in frustration, tugging on the invisible bonds keeping him in place.

"Nohoho!" he snapped, muscles straining as he fought against the magic holding him there. If only he knew what exactly Hermes was doing, he could counter it. But that proved hard to do with the swirling, tingling sensation spreading over his skin.

"Pity. And here I thought we were finally bonding," he mused aloud, shaking his head solemnly. Then he added his hands, digging into his ribs.

Poseidon barked out a hearty laugh, trying to curl in on himself. "You wish! Noho wait!" He was lost to hysterics when Hermes began walking his fingers up his ribs.

"Still as stubborn as ever, huh? Don't worry, I can help with that!" Hermes chirped, happily squeezing down his sides.

"No! Dohohon't you dahahare!" he tried to sound intimidating, but wasn't very successful when every other word is filled with giggles.

"Oh, I dare," Hermes practically purred, skittering his fingers at a maddening pace. Poseidon grit his teeth together, determined to stop the free flowing mirth from escaping.

"You bahahastard! Lehet me go rihihight nohohohow!" " he demanded, muscles straining against the magic holding him still.

"Mmmm, I'd rather not. I'm pretty sure you'll kill me if I do that," Hermes pointed out with a giggle of his own. With another snap of his fingers, the tickling all but doubled, and Poseidon let out a desperate scream of laughter.

"I WIHIHILL IF YOU DOHOHON'T!" he held firm in his threats, even as he spiraled deeper into hysterics.

"Kill me if I do, kill me if I don't, there's no winning with you, is there?" he cried dramatically, tracing around his gills until he was a snorting, wheezing mess.

Poseidon couldn't bring himself to answer the probably rhetorical question, focusing all his efforts on breaking free from whatever spell or magic Hermes had placed on him.

Control slowly came back to his body as he twitched and squirmed, and if Hermes wasn't so distracted by his little power trip, he might have noticed the warning signs before it was too late.

He was scratching behind his ear fins and cooing about just how endearing he was like this when a hand suddenly yanked him back by the hair, throwing him to the side. Hermes yelped in shock and fear as he hit the ground, quickly standing up before Poseidon could do it again.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it was all in good fun, yeah? I promise, your secret's safe with me," he assured, trying to keep his nerves under wraps. Poseidon shot him a cold glare as he stood up from his throne.

"Like hell it is, you fuckin' blabber mouth."

"Okay, ouch! I'm not that bad!" he whined, shrieking when Poseidon took a step closer. He flew a little higher, just to stay out of reach. "Okay, maybe I got a little carried away, but I couldn't help myself! You know I'm a man of opportunity! I'm sure you would've done the same if you were me," he tried to justify.

Poseidon seemed to consider it for a moment before a sly smirk stretched across his face. Hermes felt his stomach sink as he realized the only exit was blocked.

"For once, I think you're right."

Oh he was so fucked. But it was worth it.

[d1xonss]

About Masterlist:

~ Currently I am only writing for the character Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead. But I’m likely to write for others later on down the road.

~ Genres very from fluff to angst

~ My main focus right now is the story I’m writing called Desert Rose which, as of now, is still incomplete.

~ New updates will (hopefully) be weekly.

~ I never have any good ideas for oneshots so I’ll be taking any requests people send me!

~ Most oneshots will be mainly female readers unless requested otherwise.

~ Feel free to request things regarding my series as well, oneshots, headcanons, etc. I’m always open to new ideas.

Fluff ~ 🧸

Angst ~ 🖤

Suggestive ~ 👀

Smut ~ 💋

Series!!<3

~ Desert Rose (ongoing) 🧸💋🖤👀

Series Masterlist Seasons 1-5

Series Masterlist Seasons 6-11 (coming soon)

Headcanons ~ Part 1 Part 2

Mini Oneshots!!<3

~ The Olive Theory 🧸

Summary : You tell Daryl about an old theory you had heard a long time ago, claiming it proved you two were a perfect match.

Oneshots!!<3

~ Enchanting 🧸

Summary : After Daryl meets you at a dreaded get together in Alexandria, his mind is constantly flooded with the thoughts of you. When months go by and he still hasn’t made a move, someone gives him just the nudge he needs.

~ Potions 🧸

Summary : One night when you’re in the middle of your skincare routine, your boyfriend Daryl suddenly becomes intrigued.

~ Chicken Soup for the Soul 🧸

Summary : When Daryl returns home from a longer run, you notice quickly he had come down with something. It takes a little convincing, but eventually, he allows you to take care of him.

~ Don’t Go 🖤

Summary : After returning from a run, Daryl quickly finds out that you had been severely injured while he was gone. The sight of you was heartbreaking, but the thought of losing you forever was even more painful.

~ Older 👀

Summary : When confessing your feelings for Daryl after keeping them bottled up inside for so long, he ultimately rejects you. But you somehow find a way to make him regret it.

~ Older | Part 2 💋

Summary : Things only grow more tense between you and Daryl as you meet for dinner to “discuss” what’s been happening between the two of you.

~ Sunshine 🧸

Summary : Daryl has always been somewhat of a serious man, taking everything going wrong around him to heart as he stewed over them constantly. But lucky for him, you’re always around to cheer him up.

~ A Friend 🧸

Summary : Working and dealing with the walkers outside the fences one day had grown to be too much as you desperately needed to get away from the noise. When you found something else to occupy your time, you slowly realize how boring it became. But luckily, Daryl’s able to keep you company.

~ Bedtime Stories 🧸

Summary : You and Daryl stumble into a library after being chased by a herd of walkers, forcing the two of you to stay hidden in the building for a long while. Though amongst the chaos, a sweet moment seems to unfold between the two of you.

~ Pretty When I Cry 🖤🧸

Summary : From the very start you had been struggling to have a decent relationship with the Dixon brothers. Trying your best to show your kindness since they arrived. But one day Daryl seems to snap after an incident, sending you spiraling in a flurry of emotions. However, he manages to venture back and pick up the pieces he’s broken.

~ Forever 🖤🧸

Summary : For months now, Daryl has found himself going down a deep rabbit hole of the thoughts in which he cannot escape. His insecurities about his age and your relationship is all he’s able to ponder over. But in the end, you make a promise to stick around forever.

~ Sticks and Stones 🧸

Summary : After arriving in the brand new community, you quickly find it’s not exactly what it chalked up to be. An incident occurs, causing you to snap. But Daryl just so happens to be at the right place at the right time.

~ Cigarettes After Sex 🖤💋

Summary : Knowing Daryl for so many years, it was still unclear what was going on between the two of you. Having to get past the fear in order to finally see what you had been missing out on all along.

~ Soap and Bubbles 🧸

Summary : When first arriving to Alexandria, you noticed that Daryl is having trouble adjusting. So, you find a way to help him relax.

~ Fuck it, I love you 🖤💋

Summary : You and Daryl had always been close since the start. But when things grow a little complicated after the Commonwealth, a wedge is created between the two of you. Though when two of your people suddenly go missing, it brings the two of you together once more after being apart for so long. But the question remains; is it enough to save your relationship?

~ Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder 🧸

Summary : When your insecurities start to get the better of you, Daryl manages to come in at the right time to give you the reassurance you need. Wanting to show you how he sees you through his own eyes.

~ Practice Makes Perfect 💋

Summary : When Daryl opens up about his lack of experience with relationships and…other things, he finds your reaction is definitely not what he expected.

~ Something New 💋

Summary : In a fit of heated passion, you accidentally reveal a secret kink you had always wanted to try. But surprisingly, Daryl isn’t put off by the idea

[fafnir19]

The King-Boy

The sun shone brightly on a crisp autumn afternoon as Tristan, with a hint of reluctance, made his way from his student apartment to his family home. His strides were purposeful, yet there was an air of casualness about him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his blue varsity jacket —a signature Tristan charm.

He'd been tasked with babysitting his younger sister, Emily, and while he wasn't exactly thrilled about it, he knew it was the least he could do after rejecting his father's wishes. The tension between them was palpable; Tristan's decision to turn down the military scholarship had been a sore spot, and his father's disappointment hung heavy in the air.

He knew his father wanted the best for him, but the idea of a disciplined military life never sat well with Tristan's free-spirited nature. He had always been a bit of a rebel, and the thought of obedience and rigid rules made him cringe. Besides, the prospect of being sent to war zones, fighting for causes he didn't believe in, was not something he was willing to risk his life for.

Whatsoever today, Tristan had no choice but to put that aside and focus on Emily. Upon arriving at the cozy family home, Tristan found Emily in her pink-themed bedroom, a room that screamed 'little princess.' She sat on her bed, her curly brown locks bouncing as she eagerly awaited her brother's arrival. "Tristan!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "You're here! Are you going to read me a story?" He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, his heart softening despite himself. "Of course, Em. What story did you have in mind?" Emily scrambled to her bookshelf and pulled out a well-worn fairy tale book. "This one! It's about a princess and an evil queen. I want to know if the princess gets saved." Sighing, Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, his varsity jacket creasing slightly.

"Alright, let's see what this princess is up to." He opened the book, his deep voice filling the room as he began to read. "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess..." As Tristan narrated the tale, Emily's eyes grew wide with wonder. The story was one of adventure and peril, where the princess was captured by an evil queen with magical powers. Brave knights attempted to rescue her, but many fell victim to the queen's dark magic, transformed into creatures or slain by her guards. Tristan's voice took on a dramatic tone, bringing the characters to life. "The king, desperate to save his daughter, sought a brave soul who could break the curse. But all who tried..." He paused for effect, "...met a grim fate." Emily's attention was rapt, her small hands clasped tightly together. "Do you think anyone can save her, Tristan?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." Tristan's voice held a hint of boredom, his mind drifting to his own predicament. He, too, felt trapped, albeit in a different kind of fairy tale. "I bet you could save the princess," Emily said, her voice filled with admiration. "You're so strong and smart." A chuckle escaped Tristan's lips. "Me? Save a princess? I don't think so. I'm not the heroic type, and I'm definitely not risking my life for a stranger." Emily's face fell slightly, but her belief in her brother was unwavering. "But you're my hero, Tristan. I know you'd help her if you could." She reached into a toy box and pulled out a plastic necklace with a glittering red gem. "And with this magic necklace, you could control dragons! The princess would be saved for sure." Tristan couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. He allowed Emily to place the toy necklace around his neck, indulging her playful imagination. “Thanks, Emily," he said and played along. "I'll keep it safe until the right prince comes along."

As Tristan continued reading, Emily's eyes grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep. As Tristan sat there, the gem at his neck began to glow, emitting a soft light that illuminated the room. Startled, he reached for the necklace, but before he could grasp it, a whirlwind of magic engulfed him and a blinding flash transported him into the very fairy tale he had been reading. He found himself in a grand hall of a castle, its high ceilings and ornate columns a stark contrast to Emily's cozy room. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of distant trumpets echoed through the halls. Tristan, now dressed in a blue velvet jerkin, tight white pants, and golden riding boots, stood in awe, taking in his new surroundings.

"Noble Tristan, what a blessing that you are here to free my daughter!" A deep voice startled him, and he turned to face a regal figure—the king himself. Tristan's heart raced, realizing he was now a part of the very story he had been reading. Although surprised by the king's knowledge of his name, Tristan maintained his composure. He had no intention of playing the hero, but he recognized this as his chance to find a way back home. Feigning interest, he played along, knowing this was his ticket to finding the elusive queen. "Your Majesty, I am at your service. I shall do whatever it takes to aid in the princess's rescue." His mind, however, was already plotting his escape from this fantastical realm. "But first, I must ask, where might I find the queen?" The king's eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The queen, with her dark magic, resides in a castle beyond the northern mountains.” Delighted by Tristan's willingness, the king revealed his plan. "We have learned of a secret passage that leads directly to the Queen's castle. if you can distract her, my men will sneak into her castle and rescue my daughter." Tristan just nodded.

And so, with the king's guidance, Tristan embarked on his quest, riding through enchanted forests and crossing mystical rivers. The journey was not without its perils, but the young man's determination kept him focused.

Finally, the majestic castle of the evil Queen loomed before them. Guards, clad in dark armor, escorted Tristan while he strode through the castle's halls, his boots echoing on the stone floors. The throne room loomed ahead, and as he entered, the evil Queen's laughter echoed off the walls, sending shivers down his spine. "Ah, another brave soul, come to rescue the princess?" she cackled, her eyes sparkling with malevolence. "Do you not fear the fate of those who came before you?" Tristan stood tall, his voice steady. "I do not seek the princess, my lady. I have a more personal request. I wish to return home, and I was told you might hold the key to my freedom." The Queen's eyes narrowed, her interest piqued. "And why should I assist you, young man? What could you possibly offer me?" Tristan leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Knowledge, my lady. I have learned of a secret plan—an invasion of your castle. If you help me, I can provide details that might save countless lives." The Queen's laughter filled the room and the knowledge of his impending betrayal only added to her amusement. "You would betray your king for your own gain? How delightfully cunning. Very well, young Tristan, I shall send you home, but first, share with me these secrets." Tristan revealed the king's plan, his words flowing freely. The Queen listened intently, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she realized the extent of the betrayal. Within hours, the queen's forces had captured every man involved.

Tristan, stood before the evil Queen, his once indifferent demeanor now laced with a hint of nervousness. He had played his part, revealing the King's plan, and now awaited his reward—a passage back to his world.

The Queen's smirk sent a chill down his spine. Delighted by Tristan's treachery, she was offering him a place by her side. "Don't you want to stay and explore the wonders of this realm? You could be a revered knight, admired by all." Her words were tempting, playing on his desire for admiration. But Tristan's reluctance to commit to anything beyond his self-interest remained steadfast. "A knight? No, thank you, Your Majesty. To die on some battlefield, fighting for a cause that isn't mine? I'd rather not end up a casualty of war.  I want to return home." His response was laced with a hint of sarcasm, a remnant of his mischievous nature.

The Queen's eyes narrowed, her amusement turning to intrigue. "Very well, Tristan. To go home, you must kiss me and voice your wish." As the words left her lips, Tristan couldn't help but grin. *So this is how it's done in fairy tales*, he thought, amused by the cliché. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was innocent at first, a mere formality to seal their agreement. But as their lips touched, a spark ignited within Tristan, a sensation he had never known before. His body responded with a hunger he couldn't control. His cock throbbed against the confines of his pants, straining against the fabric. The Queen, sensing his arousal, broke the kiss and ran her fingers along his jawline, her touch sending waves of pleasure through him. "My, my, what have we here?" she purred, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. With deliberate slowness, she began to undress him, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his jerkin and sliding it off his shoulders. Tristan stood before her, naked and exposed, his cock standing erect, a testament to his desire. The Queen positioned herself on her throne, her dress pooling around her like a dark cloud. She spread her legs, revealing her moist core, and beckoned him with a tilt of her head. Tristan needed no further invitation. He moved towards her, his cock leading the way, and thrust into her with a rhythm that spoke of his urgency. "Yes, my noble Tristan, show me your strength," she crooned, her voice laced with encouragement. "Show me how you wield your sword." Her words spurred him on, and he fucked her with increasing fervor. The throne creaked with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Tristan's breath came in ragged gasps as he neared his climax. "I'm so close," he moaned, his voice hoarse with desire. The Queen matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Show me, Tristan. Show me the power of your sword." With a final, powerful thrust, Tristan reached his climax, his body shuddering as he released himself deep within her. He cried out, a sound that was part pleasure and part surprise, as he experienced a release unlike any he had known before.

Spent, he collapsed at the Queen's feet, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

The Queen, still seated on the throne, looked down at him with a satisfied smile. Her hand reached out, stroking his flaccid cock. To his surprise, he felt himself respond, his cock twitching back to life and slowly stiffening once more. "Oh, my dear Tristan," she cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction, "I see you are not yet done. Are you wishing to put your sword in my service, Tristan?" she asked, her voice laced with both power and seduction. She knew full well the power of her words, the double meaning they held. Tristan, still dazed from the intensity of his orgasm, didn't fully comprehend her words. He assumed she was referring to his cock, and without hesitation, he answered, "Yes, my Queen." A grin played around the queen's lips, because she had him right where she wanted! She reveled in the thought that Tristan has just unwittingly pledged himself to her. "Welcome, my knight," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And how far might you go to serve me, my loyal subject?" Her tone was light, almost playful, but the undercurrent of power was unmistakable. The question caught Tristan off guard. But before he could process his response, the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them, as if some unseen force guided his tongue. "I would die for you, my Queen." He froze, shocked by his own declaration and the consequences of it slowly dawning on him. Had he just agreed to become her knight? To serve and protect her, even at the cost of his own life? How could he, the very embodiment of youthful reluctance, offer such a profound sacrifice? His mouth had betrayed him, speaking words he never would have uttered under normal circumstances. The realization hit him like a slap. He had just pledged his life to this woman, this evil enchantress. As if reading his thoughts, the Queen chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, my dear Tristan, you have just become my knight. Your fate is sealed, and your loyalty is now unwavering." His agreement to serve her with his 'sword' had triggered a spell, binding him to her will. Tristan's mind raced as he tried to process what was happening. He had never been one to commit wholeheartedly to a cause, especially one as dangerous as knighthood. But now, under the Queen's spell, his thoughts were transforming. The idea of fighting on the battlefield, of risking his life for her, no longer filled him with dread but with a sense of purpose and honor. And strangely, the thought of dying for her made his cock twitch with desire.

The queen's eyes narrowed, a mixture of amusement and triumph dancing in their depths. She had sensed the change in him, the magic coursing through his veins. "Excellent, my knight. Your devotion is... inspiring." She rose from her throne, her movements graceful and calculated. "Come, let us prepare you for your new role." As if in a trance, he followed her, his steps steady and sure, as if he had always been destined for this path. She led him to a nearby chamber. The marble floor of the chamber was cold against Tristan's bare feet as he followed the queen, his body still glistening with sweat from their passionate encounter. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the flickering torchlight cast an eerie glow on the stone walls, creating an atmosphere that both intrigued and unnerved him. At the center of the room, a massive bathtub, carved from pure white marble, awaited them, its surface shimmering with steam. The queen, dressed in her elegant black dress, stood by the tub, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. Tristan's heart quickened as he realized the vulnerability of his nakedness in contrast to her fully-clothed form. It was a stark reminder of the power she held over him, a power he had willingly surrendered. "Step in, my knight," she purred, her voice laced with a command he couldn't refuse. Obediently, Tristan approached the tub and lowered himself into the hot, soothing water.

The queen knelt beside the bath, her fingers trailing along his skin, sending shivers down his spine. She held a sponge, dripping with fragrant soap, and began to wash him with slow, deliberate strokes. "You have served me well, Tristan," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck. "And I shall reward you." Her words sent a thrill through him, but it was not the promise of a reward that made his heart race. It was the touch of her hands, the intimacy of this moment, and the knowledge that he was entirely at her mercy. She washed his shoulders, her fingers kneading the tense muscles, and then moved down his arms, her touch both gentle and possessive. As the sponge glided over his chest and arms, he felt a tingling sensation, and his breath caught. His body hair, once a source of pride, was disappearing, leaving his skin smooth and flawless. The queen's magic was at work, transforming him, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement at the loss of his former self. Her hands traveled lower, and she cupped his balls, "Your manhood will be a symbol of your dedication." His balls, once heavy and low, began to shrink and tighten, moving upwards as if drawn by an invisible force. It was a strange, almost pleasurable sensation, and he found himself grinning. "My Queen, what... what are you doing to me?" "Ah, my knight, you are becoming more perfect by the moment," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "These shrunken, transformed balls will keep you youthful forever. A fitting gift for my loyal servant." Tristan shuddered, his cock hardening at her words. The idea of being her eternal servant, a plaything, should have terrified him, but instead, he felt a rush of excitement. He had become her pleasure tool, and the thought of being nothing more than an object of her desire sent a wave of arousal through him. "Do you like what you see, my knight?" she asked, her fingers tracing the outline of his hardening cock through the water. "Do you like how I've made you?" "Yes, my Queen," he replied, his voice hoarse with desire. "I belong to you." She smiled, a triumphant gleam in her eyes, and continued her bathing ritual, ensuring every inch of his skin was touched by her magic. The water grew cooler, and she helped him out of the tub, her hands never leaving his body. She dried him with a soft cloth, her movements slow and sensual, as if she were savoring every moment. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she produced the outfit of a knight, but with a seductive twist. The black leather pants she offered him were tight, hugging his legs like a second skin, and he felt a surge of power as he slid them on. No underwear, just his bare skin against the leather. The jerkin, black velvet with a plunging neckline, framed his chest, leaving it exposed to her gaze. "Dress, my knight," she commanded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me see my creation." Tristan complied, pulling on the pants, feeling the soft leather caress his skin. His cock strained against the material, the outline clearly visible but he no longer cared about modesty. The queen had taken that from him, replacing it with a constant state of arousal. He donned the jerkin, feeling the velvet brush against his nipples, now sensitive to the slightest touch. "Perfect, you are the embodiment of my desires. A bold knight, ready for battle, and a youthful pleasure boy, eager to serve." she whispered, running her hands over his chest and down his stomach, lingering on the bulge in his pants.

Tristan looked down at himself, his body a perfect blend of strength and sensuality. He was no longer the hesitant jock; he was a creation of the queen's making, designed for fighting and fucking.

The thought should have been alarming, but instead, it excited him. "Your transformation is complete, my knight. From now on, you will serve me, and the very thought of sacrificing your life for me will bring you pleasure." The queen's eyes sparkled with triumph. "You are mine, Tristan, body and soul." He stood tall, his body humming with newfound energy, his mind already embracing the destiny she had envisioned for him. Tristan's reluctance and indifference had vanished, replaced by a burning desire to please his queen, to fight and fuck in her name. As he left the chamber, his footsteps confident, he couldn't help but grin, his eyes gleaming with a newfound lust for life—or perhaps, more accurately, a lust for death in the service of his dark and enchanting queen.

Eighty years had passed since that fateful day when her brother, Tristan, had vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of unanswered questions. The pain of his disappearance had dulled over time, but the memories remained vivid, especially the one of him reading to her from a fairy tale book, a cherished moment before he vanished without a trace. Now, in the twilight of her life, Emily found herself in a senior home, sipping lukewarm tea, a far cry from the warm and lively household she once knew. She had long given up complaining about the temperature of her tea, knowing the nurses wouldn't heed her requests. But on this particular day, as she reached for a faded fairy tale book, a surge of nostalgia and curiosity overcame her. It was the fairy tale book that Tristan had always read to her. The pain of his disappearance too raw to bear, she had avoided the book for decades, for it was the last thing Tristan had read to her before his sudden absence. But now, as she approached the end of her journey on this earth, she felt prepared to revisit the story. "It's time to finally finish the story, Tristan," she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of determination and sorrow.

As she turned the pages, a bittersweet smile crept across her face. She noticed the peculiar coincidence of the protagonist's name, Tristan, identical to her brother's. It was as if the author had known her brother, capturing his essence in the character's deeds and demeanor.

The tale spoke of a young man, noble and brave, who found himself entangled in a web of magic and deceit. This Tristan, like her brother, was charismatic and confident, his charm effortlessly drawing people to him. But there was a darkness to this fictional Tristan, a mirror of the flaws Emily knew all too well in her brother. The tale spoke of Tristan's betrayal of the king, a deceitful act committed for personal gain. Emily's eyes widened as she read, for she saw her brother's actions in this fictional betrayal. It was a trait she had witnessed in him—a tendency to prioritize his interests, sometimes at the expense of others. She thought back to the countless times Tristan had charmed his way out of trouble, his mischievous smile belying a clever mind. "How could he betray the king and the princess?" she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of disappointment and understanding. In her heart, she believed that the queen's magic, which bound Tristan to her service, was a fitting punishment for his treachery. It was a harsh lesson in loyalty and honor, one that her brother had seemingly failed to learn. Yet, as the story progressed, Emily's disgust grew. The ease with which Tristan succumbed to the queen's enchantment, becoming her knight and, worse, her pleasure boy, was unsettling. She had always known her brother to be a charmer, but this... this was different.

The tale continued, revealing that Tristan's free spirit could not be contained for long. He rallied the queen's warriors, turning them against her, and in a twist of fate, he became their leader. With cunning and guile, he tricked the queen, a common trope in ancient fairy tales. But Tristan's punishment was cruel; he had the queen shackled in red-hot iron, forcing her to grant his every wish. Yet, despite his efforts, he remained trapped in his youthful form, forever horny and without a trace of modesty. He ruled the realm with a youthful vigor, conquering other kingdoms and earning the title 'King-Boy'.

Emily's heart fluttered as she read these words, unsure if she was thinking of the fictional Tristan or her brother. "He always did have a way of getting himself into peculiar situations," she sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her voice. A tear escaped, rolling down her wrinkled cheek, as she remembered her brother's playful smile and the sound of his laughter.

As Emily's fingers brushed the final page, the ancient binding began to glow, emitting a crimson light that illuminated the room. A figure emerged from its pages —her brother, Tristan! Emily's breath caught in her throat as she beheld a young man, no older than nineteen, with a mischievous glint in his eye, his attire a blend of fantasy and allure. He was dressed in enchanted knight attire, his black leather pants hugging his legs, and a black velvet jerkin showcasing his chest. His blond hair, once neatly styled, now held a slight wave, and his piercing blue eyes had softened with a lustful gleam.

"Tristan?" Emily whispered, her voice trembling. The young man smiled, and it was a smile she knew all too well. "Hello, Emily. It seems you've been reading about my adventures." His voice carried a hint of amusement, and he strode into the room with the confidence of royalty. “I've missed your company." His gaze, once indifferent, now held a mischievous glint, as if he relished the surprise he had caused. Emily's eyes welled up with tears of joy and relief. She offered him the teacup, a gesture of hospitality. "Welcome home, dear brother. I'm afraid the tea isn't very warm." Tristan took the cup and frowned, his brow furrowing in a familiar manner. "Indeed, it's rather lukewarm, isn't it? I've never been one for cold tea." Emily sighed, her gaze drifting to the window. "I've complained about the tea countless times, but the nurses here never seem to listen." Tristan took the cup and walked to the door. "Maid!" he called out as a nurse hurried past the hallway. "This tea is cold!" The nurse, flustered and annoyed, stopped in her tracks. "The tea is hot enough, and I've no time for your games, young man. Mr. Williams in room 203 can't breathe, and I need to attend to him." In a swift motion Tristan poured the tea onto the nurse, startling her. "Hey!" she exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden action. "Cold tea, indeed!" he exclaimed. "If it were hot, you'd be howling in pain. Apologize, maid, for your insolence!" The nurse, to Emily's astonishment, fell to her knees, as if compelled by an unseen force. "I—I'm sorry, sir," she stammered. "Excellent," Tristan purred, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "As a merciful king, I shall grant you a chance to redeem yourself. Bring us hot tea, posthaste, and address me as my King." As the nurse scurried off, Emily's mind raced. "Tristan, what about Mr. Williams?" Playfully raising an eyebrow, Tristan feigned ignorance. ""Emily, he can no longer breathe. I doubt tea is on his mind at the moment." Emily's expression turned from concern to confusion, and then to realization. Tristan's indifference to the plight of others had not faded over the years. She took a deep breath, her emotions warring within her. "But Tristan, he might—" He cut her off, his eyes sparkling with ambition. "Do you think they'd still offer me that scholarship at the military university? I could make those generals bow with a mere glance!"

Emily's emotions battled within her. The joy of having her brother back was tempered by the realization that he hadn't changed. The same playful arrogance that had always charmed her now left her conflicted. "Tristan, you... you haven't changed a bit. But I thought..." "Changed? Why should I? The world bends to my will, and I've ruled the fairy tale realm for decades. Imagine what I could do at that military university! I've conquered countless fairy tale realms, and now, I could rule this world too." Tristan's eyes gleamed with ambition. Emily shook her head, a mixture of fondness and exasperation washing over her. "You always were stubborn, Tristan. But I'm just glad you're here. I've missed you so much." Tristan's expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, a hint of vulnerability flashed in his eyes. "I've missed you too, Emily. But enough of this sentimentality. Let's enjoy this tea and plot my return to the mortal realm. I have a kingdom to rule and a world to conquer!" As they awaited the nurse's return, Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and unease. The brother she knew and loved was back, but he was also a king from a fairy tale, with all the complexities and contradictions that entailed. He spoke of conquests and power, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was the hero or the villain of his own story.

[ruruumin]

good luck, babe!

₊˚ ᗢ canon! lumine x gn! reader (x endgame! mona).

⤷ when you need a little loving, she's not there.

you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth. you thought she might stick around longer. having found her lying in the sand with a rather obnoxious, pale-beige companion, you were the first person she met in teyvat. the first one who taught her how to use her wind glider, the one who guided her in her early battles, and the one who put faith in her. the outlandish traveler who has come to find her brother. that was who she was to everyone else. but to you, you thought from the bottom of your heart, she would be the one for you.

the times you’ve shared in dark inns and festivals were more than enough to send your feelings leaping to the top of your throat.

sending her away to liyue was heartbreaking. you knew this was the right thing for her. she was a free soul. she needed to find her brother. you couldn’t possibly keep her tied down to you in mondstadt. it was a selfish wish. an ugly one that sent your head reeling. she gave you a nervous kiss on the cheek, waving to you from the port.

you try to kiss her on her lips but she quickly dodges your advances, telling you she doesn’t want your public display of affection. she tries to comfort you, saying she’ll come back to visit you. and if that doesn’t happen, she can send you letters. 

i don’t want to call it off, but you don’t want to call it love. you have to suck everything up and settle for her short, fleeting kiss. a bitter taste lingers on your tongue. she boards the boat, making sure to wave to everyone crying their eyes out for her. when you shift your sights, you could feel your heart drop to your stomach, seeing the successor of the ragnvindr clan staring fondly at her. 

she occasionally writes letters to you, and you receive them in the comfort of your home, a place where she once took residence. it was signed and sprayed with her signature perfume, a smell that would always soothe your sore muscles. after a long day of adventure, her words are what you look forward to hearing. 

she talks about her journey in liyue. rambling about how delicious the food is, how vibrant the culture is, and how much fun she’s having with her new friends. she likes to bring up two people in particular. this strange fatui harbinger that is constantly getting on her nerves and the second, a very quiet yet protective soul that guards the land. you want to stuff the gross, sick feeling that is building at your core. you don’t want to assume anything. they could just be friends. a very chummy pair of friends, your devil argues. attached to this letter was a photo she took.

and it felt too intimate to just be friends. 

you only wanna be the one that i call ‘baby.’ she signs her name beside a heart, a subtle marking that she still thinks of you differently. you hold this letter close to your chest, ignoring the photos. 

she continues her life to inazuma, the land of eternity. not without a few more letters delivered to your front door, signed with her pretty name in gold ink.

you could only pray for her safety. inazuma was not the most welcoming country. you’ve heard stories about the archon being a ruthless warrior who imprisoned many of her people’s dreams. you want to tell her to return home (to you). you want her to stop her adventures and come back, kiss you again like she did all those nights before. remind you exactly why you’ve fallen in love with her. 

you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. so you let her travel far and wide. like her time in liyue, she is writing to you about all the people she’s met. you can kiss a hundred boys in bars. a red and white colored samurai, a flirty detective, a kind-hearted blond, and the tea-loving clan leader. one photo after the other they flood like a broken dam. shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling. 

every single one of them influenced her in ways you could only imagine. they gave her the hope to continue moving forward. having accomplished what might be the impossible, stopping an archon’s power with two visions, you can’t help but compare yourself to her many talented friends in other nations.

her letters start to become antagonizing to you. each month they come in, detailing more and more about the things you didn’t want to hear. was inazuma better than what you provided in mondtsadt? or was it your relationship? this forbidden bond between two women. you want to ask her if she feels ashamed, but your heart and mind argue with each other.

like promised, she comes back to you after liyue’s lantern fest. and while you wanted to be the first person to greet her, it’s unnerving seeing the renowned alchemist, albedo, at the port. his eyes brightened up at the sight of her luminous hair and he rushed over to greet her. his sister klee quickly followed behind, her hand reaching out to push him closer towards the elusive traveler. he exhibited an excited expression you’ve never seen in your life, its unlike albedo.

you clutch onto the surface of your clothes, unsure of what to make of it all. 

i’m cliche, who cares? one step after the other, she pushes you onto your bed, fingers entangled. legs brush up against each other. hot breaths on your ear keeps you grounded to reality. her lips kiss the nape of your neck, the bottom of your jawline, the side of your temple. she whispers to you the words you’ve been wanting to hear and it reels your heart right out you.

you’re caught on her fishing line and she has you exactly where she wants you. its a sexually explicit kind of love affair.

and as quickly as she came, she left for the next place: sumeru. it should become routine to you at this point. you go on with your life, once a month a letter comes in, and she’ll always talk about her new friends. this time it was a very attractive scholar from a prestigious akademiya and a short, youthful boy. the latter was originally some kind of god that had been abandoned by inazuma’s archon, but now he has reformed underneath her care. she tells you that he follows her around like a lost puppy, always eager to help her out with denial trailing his every word. and i cry, it’s not fair. 

was every man in the world a better choice than you?

it hurts you to see those photos. seeing her smile so bright, waist snuggly close to her new friends’ hands, their eyes filled with the same adoration you had for her. she never took photos when she was here in mondstadt with you. so why does she do it with everyone else? was it really about you? about your relationship?

i just need a little loving, i just need a little air. she only comes to your house, eager to pepper kisses down your throat. very rarely do the two of you spend time in taverns or festivals. you’ve asked yourself so many questions. so many times. on various occasions. 

and the thought comes up to you in a nauseating wave: she was ashamed to be seen with you. you’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

she doesn’t return to mondstadt after sumeru. immediately traveling to the next area, she’s continued to capture the hearts of every man in the nation. you wonder to yourself if she’ll ever see you the way you need. if she’ll ever love you the way you wanted. hope is dashed one letter after the other. and you’ve stopped counting. you let them pile up on your desk, unopened and unread. 

you do everything in your power to forget about this outlandish traveler. returning to your singular room, folding the bed without a second thought, cooking meals for yourself. everything went back to how it was before she arrived. at first, it was hard to go back to where you started. you couldn’t forget the soft kisses or the whispers of her voice from haunting you. your heart was still yearning for someone who would never see you properly.

but with time, things will change. you’ll move on. and you’ll love someone else. that is the way of life after all.

you fasten your weapon, booking it out the door to meet a very peculiar girl, one that could tell your fortune with just the palm of your hand. she smiles at you with bright enthusiasm. her skin feels warm when she pulls you towards the open field, her hydro vision glistening underneath the sunlight. 

you were thankful you met her on that fateful day. on a particularly hot day, when you were leaving your house for some fresh air, she was the freedom you were yearning for. you met during one of your commissions and she hasn’t left your side since then. every day felt brighter when she’s around.

she drags you out of your home to dance with her at festivals. she invites you to her place to play a game of cards. she even kisses you on the back of your hand as if you were the most special woman in the world. and most importantly, she’s not afraid to be seen with you. if anything, it fuels her with immense pride. 

it felt liberating being with someone who wanted you.

it’s no longer a surprise to you when you see the luminous traveler at the port. she’s looking left and right for you, golden eyes searching for your figure in thick crowds. she’s out of breath when she pushes through everyone. after her stressful time in fontaine, she’s been dying to see you again. eager to feel your warmth on the tips of her fingers. she wants to ask you why you haven’t returned any of her letters. she needs answers. and she needs you. 

and when you think about me, all of those years ago, you’re standing face to face with ‘i told you.’ she stops in her tracks, heels stomping on the ground as her blood turns cold. hand in hand, you’re sitting next to a woman dressed in the prettiest of constellations. lights shine above you like a halo, highlighting your natural glow. she’s leaning her head against yours, kissing you on the lips. a proud expression is written upon her face, over the moon that she has you.

and lumine could do nothing but watch.

good luck, babe.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Bodyguard (ii)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER II: The Bodyguard

SUMMARY: The Night Court must decide who shall remain to protect the Daughter of Autumn, while also getting to know the princess with a fiery soul.

WARNINGS: More misogyny! yay! mentions of alcohol, tw: beron (we all hate him its ok), people talking shit behind y/n's back, probably swearing i can't remember (also i just swore in the warning so like... it's possible), daddy issues!

NOTE: once again special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work! <33

WORDS: 2K

Sitting in the quarters Beron had assigned to the Night Court guests, the inner circle debated how to approach this situation they had found themselves in. 

One of them was to play bodyguard for the Princess of the Autumn Court. Of course, there were many logistics to sort out, ranging from the most obvious one – who would be the assigned bodyguard – to smaller details, such as whether they needed more than one Night Court member to remain in Autumn.

“I’m telling you, they’re a bunch of snakes,” Cassian said firmly. “We can’t just leave one person behind. What if this is a ploy?”

“That is true,” Feyre mused, “but why bother to make a ploy at all? We fought in the war together, and an unprovoked attack against the Night Court would cause another war. And Beron must know that the other courts would be on our side.”

Amren sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Cassian. We can’t trust these people.”

Azriel stayed silent, mulling it all over. It was all true — fighting for the same side in the war had brought the courts together, but then again, there were people like Eris and his brothers lurking in this court.

A soft knock on the door prompted everyone to look towards the sound. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Eris, a small smile on his face.

“It is lovely to see you all in a different scenery,” Eris commented after he had closed the door.

“Eris,” Rhysand greeted. “How can we help you?”

Eris went ahead and took a seat in a scarlet chair beside the fireplace, relaxing with ease. Azriel supposed it would be easier to do so now that he was in his own home, but the sight still frustrated the shadowsinger.

“I just wanted to see what you all thought of my father’s… proposition,” Eris said casually.

“Did you know?” Cassian questioned.

Eris shrugged. “I did tell you that it had something to do with my sister.”

“There was an attempt on her life, which you failed to mention,” Azriel stated.

Eris just smiled calmly. “Must have slipped my mind.”

This was exactly what Cassian had been talking about before, Azriel knew. They were cunning and sly in the Autumn Court, and that made them dangerous.

“Anything else that may have ‘slipped your mind’?” Azriel inquired.

Eris turned his gaze to the shadowsinger, a small smirk on his face. Azriel wanted to punch the male, and he remembered the feel of his neck beneath his hands, and how close he could have come to killing the heir before him. He sort of wished he had.

“My father has already chosen which member of your court he wants as Y/n’s bodyguard,” Eris revealed.

Azriel blinked. Despite the fact that Beron had given them the illusion of free choice, of course the male had already decided. After looking at Eris expectantly, Rhysand realised the male would not freely give up this information.

“Who?” the High Lord asked.

Eris glanced at Azriel. “The shadowsinger, of course.”

Everyone looked at Azriel, and the Illyrian wanted to shrink away from the attention. Why him? Yes, perhaps he appeared more gentlemanly than Cassian, as he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but what else? Yes, he was the Spymaster for the Night Court, but Cassian was the general of the armies. Amren terrified everyone, and yes, she’d be more than capable to be a bodyguard, but then again, Amren might kill the princess if she annoyed her.

“Why Azriel?” Rhys questioned.

Eris looked at the High Lord as if he was incompetent. “Is he not the most obvious choice? That one–” he nodded to Cassian, “–has already tainted a female promised to the Autumn Court.”

Rage, icy cold, flowed through Azriel at the implications behind Eris's words. ‘A female promised to the Autumn Court’ was very obviously Mor, and the entitlement in his tone…

“First of all, I have a mate–” Cassian growled, but Rhysand cut him off.

“Let's not argue,” the High Lord said firmly, although silent fury shone in his eyes at Eris's words. “We're all allies here.”

Eris rolled his eyes but said nothing more, and Cassian glared at the Autumn Court heir, clearly imagining all the ways he could rip him apart.

“Didn't Azriel try to kill you at the High Lord's meeting?” Amren mused.

Eris glowered at the female. “Well, we certainly can't have you here. Your mere presence makes the courtiers uneasy.”

“I did save your asses during the war,” Amren reminded him, but she seemed more than pleased that she still terrified people. 

Azriel let out a breath. He had guessed that it would be himself who would have to play bodyguard, but how could he do so when his job was one of utmost importance to the Night Court? Even now, with Nyx only half a year old, there were so many threats that needed to be uncovered and eliminated.

Azriel glanced at Rhysand and Feyre. Both had been reluctant to leave their son behind for a week, but they knew it would be much too dangerous to bring him to the Autumn Court. Nesta, Elain, and Mor had promised to take care of him while they were gone, and Nyx was probably having the time of his life with his Aunts.

What do you think? Rhys asked Azriel, mind to mind.

Azriel pondered his answer for a moment. I would be willing to do it, but to leave you without a Spymaster for the Cauldron knows how long…

I think we can manage for a little while, Rhys replied, a grin twinkling in his eyes.

Azriel nodded his confirmation. It was true — his court members were not truly useless without him. Just slightly disadvantaged, but they knew how to take care of themselves.

“I'll do it,” Azriel said aloud.

Cassian looked at his brother, eyes widened slightly with silent warning. Amren appeared disinterested in the conversation, but Azriel knew she was listening to every word. Eris simply nodded, as if he already knew Azriel would agree.

“Good,” Eris replied. “I will allow you to share the news with my father in your own time.”

The heir then got up and exited the room, leaving the Night Court members by themselves.

“I need a drink,” Amren muttered.

The following week was a whirlwind. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the Night Court members dined with the Autumn Court, and the Autumn Court members also showed them their home. It was mostly Y/n showing them around the palace and the grounds, with Autumn guards trailing closely behind.

Y/n was a different person when she was not around her father. She was much more talkative, and quick to joke and tease. After a few days, it was clear that Cassian adored the princess and her witty comebacks, and she clearly enjoyed the freedom of banter with him. It was almost as if they were destined to be best friends. But whenever any member of her family was present, she would go quiet, and exhibit “lady-like” speech and actions.

Azriel had heard many of the Autumn Court’s opinions of her through his shadows, and none of them were particularly fond. Wild, untamed, unlady-like, and irritating, were the words most commonly used to describe the princess in secret, but Azriel had a feeling she did not care what she thought about them. He could tell that she only cared what her father thought — perhaps not for praise, but rather in fear of punishment.

“So, have you decided which of you will be protecting me after this week?” she asked the Night Court members as they walked through the Royal apple orchard. The apples were the finest Azriel had ever tasted, and he wondered whether there was some kind of magic behind it to make them so.

“We have discussed it,” Rhysand replied, plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to his mate. Feyre took the apple with a smile.

Y/n sighed deeply. “I wish I could go to the Night Court with you. It sounds beautiful.”

While the Night Court members had told the princess a little bit about their home, the Autumn daughter was an avid reader, and had mentioned that she’d always been interested in The Night Court. She would read any book on their court a hundred times, and had learned about Starfall, Illyrians, and many other Night Court customs. When Rhys questioned her on the books she had read, she had become slightly evasive in her answers.

“I borrowed them,” Y/n had said casually.

Azriel had raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stole?”

The grin the princess threw his way had set his heart racing, but he had no idea why. “I prefer the term 'mischievously possess.’”

Cassian had barked out a laugh, and even Amren had smiled slightly.

But as well as spending time with the princess, Azriel had other things to do. When she showed him the castle, he memorised it. He marked every exit, window, door, hiding place — everything. If he was to be her bodyguard, he would have to have the entire layout memorised. For her protection, but also for his. He didn’t doubt for one second that if he let his guard down, one of her brothers, maybe even Eris himself, would try to stab him in the back. Literally.

Eventually, the week came to an end, and the members of the Night Court gathered in the Autumn Court throne room. Azriel supposed that bonds had been slightly strengthened between the courts, but not by much. Mistrust was hard to get rid of, especially when there were centuries and generations of it.

“We have come to a decision,” Rhy told Beron, his hands resting in his pockets. “And my High Lady and I shall allow you to employ one of my warriors as your daughter’s bodyguard.”

Beron nodded, his gaze flicking to Azriel for a brief moment before going back to Rhys. “And have you decided which warrior shall be protecting my daughter?”

That glance told Azriel that Eris had been telling the truth. Beron hoped that it was the shadowsinger who would be playing bodyguard, and it made sense now. Although what didn’t make sense was the fact that Eris had not lied.

“Azriel shall remain behind to guard your daughter,” Rhys promised. 

“Wonderful,” Beron said with a nod. “Thank you for this, Rhysand. The Autumn Court shall never forget this favour.”

Rhys nodded at the High Lord, and both of them shook hands, their goodbye quick and brief. The Night Court's goodbyes to Azriel were lengthy in comparison.

“Stay safe,” Rhys told Az, clapping him on the back. “Our mental bridge will be open at all times. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

“You act as if I can’t take care of myself,” Azriel replied, a half smirk on his face.

Rhys rolled his eyes and brought his brother into a hug, the eyes on them be damned. When Rhys pulled away, Cassian was there next, squeezing the shadowsinger into a hug that nearly crushed his bones.

“I’ll miss you, Azzie,” Cassian whispered in Azriel’s ear, which set him scowling. Cassian grinned and pulled away, Feyre replacing him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in farewell, and before Az knew it, the Night Court disappeared into the void, leaving him alone in the Autumn Court.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin @morganisheree @sleepylunarwolf @bakananya @bookishbroadwaybish @namelesssaviour @glitterypirateduck @sfhsgrad-blog @ash-mcj @feyres-fireheart @ib525 @azrielswhore @copenhagenspirit @eternallyelvish @teenagellamaangel @thisiskaylin @littleladdty

[scrivenger-grimgar]

au of an au for mdzs where canon plays out exactly as it was supposed to except

wwx became a calamity after dying and cared for his coven of ghosts in yiling before mxy summoned him for revenge.

he still elopes with lwj after solving the corpse question

supreme ghosts have a similar ability to gods taking deputies, except since they're not sharing immortality they can have a lot more of them

wwx's "deputies" are (in order) jiang cheng, the wen remnants, luo qingyang, nie huaisang, mo xuanyu, jin ling, lan jingyi, ouyang zhizhen, lan sizhui, and lan wangji.

being a calamity's "deputy" means that you are soul bonded to them, with a kind of preternatural sense of the wellbeing of the entire coven.

one of the heavenly officials decides to fuck around with time, and only other heavenly officials were supposed to remember, except extremely strong ghosts and their covens also remember because there are TWO gods married to calamities, and calamities are weirdly cooperative with each other (hc, hx, wwx, & gL discuss trade agreements over tea and artistic process over alcohol).

thus like 75 people are now in the past.

wwx's child body cant stand the power his soul has and just kinda crumbles under the weight. thats mostly fine tho cause he can shapeshift.

of course he immediately comes up with a dastardly plan to inflict as much chaos onto the sects as possible while also protecting his loved ones at the same time. he gets in contact with the wen remnants (bigger and there's more of them) and slowly moves them over to yiling while he builds places for them to live on the mountain, and then offers the people of yiling a very good deal:

"we'll deal with all your ghost problems for free, and in exchange we get discounts on food, and you tell everyone who comes asking that the Yiling Wei sect has been here the entire time."

its almost too easy to set up, too. they forge some trade agreements and other documents to place in the other sects' files, waiting to be found, with ease, bc he knows what the filing for the jiang, lan, wen, and nie looks like, and part of the story is that the jin offended them so badly that they just stopped doing business with them altogether and also tend to actively hate them with few exceptions.

meanwhile, huaisang, qingyang, and wangji will reference the Yiling Wei and act like this is something everyone knows about, and jiang cheng catches on and starts doing the same.

wwx's plan is to drive them all insane by appearing out of nowhere and acting like he's been there the entire time. make them question reality.

wen popo, at a discussion conference: i'll be standing in for my grandson so he can participate in the games

jiang fengmian, initiating polite conversation: your grandson? what happened to your son?

wen popo, internally cackling: fengmian! are you so quick to discard changze like this?! for shame!!

jiang fengmian, who has never met this lady: what

wen popo: you know i trusted him when he said he wanted to stand by his sworn brother's side but if this is how you treat his memory after he was so unwaveringly loyal to you, only ever leaving for Cangse, the love of his life, then i'll have to have you stricken from the legacy registry!

wen popo, with unfaltering confidence: good evening wen-zhongzhu

wen ruohan, who has incurable face blindness: well met Wei-zhongzhu (do i know her???)

nie mingjue is the only one who's taking any of this well and thats solely because his brother has been spoon feeding him Yiling Wei propaganda for 13 years. lan xichen has a crisis because his baby brother eloped with a clan leader he met thrice and they're having a spring wedding.

[koolades-world]

Demon brothers with a corvid-coded MC, if it's alright? For example, one who's very intelligent and curious (both in general and about the Devildom specifically), protective of the brothers, likes collecting trinkets/shiny and pretty things, and has echolalia towards phrases, words, or sounds?

hi!! yeah, of course!!

one of my best friends loves birds and he actually volunteers at a bird sanctuary so I asked him about corvids since I actually had no clue what that word meant at first haha

mentally thank him for this one :)

enjoy!

Corvid-coded Mc

Lucifer

actually appreciates the questions and curiosity since it means you want to learn

enjoys how closely you listen and cling onto his words since he knows you'll be able to recite it later thank to your memory

it's nice to have someone listen to him for once LOL

he knows that he just needs to listen to you if he suspects his brothers of doing something wrong because he knows you'll repeat exactly what they said back to him

Mammon

y'all are literally meant to be besties like his little animal guy is a crow!! (or is it raven 😭)

he also collects shiny things and has a little box full of trinkets under his bed that he shows you at some point

shopping together!! gosh would be so fun

he so understands you you're basically soul sisters right down to the protective loyalty

Levi

he also has specific phrases that he just loves and probably has memorized

that one voice line he heard probably a million times by now is something he'll repeat randomly

enjoys that you even ask questions about the things he likes, not just academic things

you could spend hours talking so please make sure you don't lose track of time

Satan

there's no way he also doesn't collect things so he'll bring back cutesy things he think you'll like since he would love if someone did that for him

loves your passion for learning, so the two of you often take tips to the library together

during your free time you talk about supplementary lessons

it's actually gotten to the point where you're academic rivals and he's living for it

Asmo

another brother that shopping with would be so fun

please let him put all sorts of shiny makeup and clothes on you, he'll make you so disco ball core

oh don't even start on bath products, you'd lose your mind at the glittery bath bombs he def has

also will talk with you for hours about his interests, which isn't something people do with him much so please don't stop

Beel

you guys are so different but that doesn't stop you from getting along

loves how you watch his fangol games closely and then talk about them with him later

like you actually paid attention and interacted with him about it!! that's so much more than his brothers ever did

he feels so loved 🥺

Belphie

sometimes has the urge to ask you to shut up because you keep trying to talk to him while he's sleeping

however, your intelligence causes him to step up his game in class so you're not running circles around him anymore

oh diavolo what monster have you created

if you bug him enough maybe he'll calm it down a little haha