#why do they look like they are near a fire ?

[enhasntty]

Cupids Clumsy Love Mission (Send help!) - PSH

pairing: Park Sunghoon x F!reader summary: You’re the worst Cupid ever, and your final mission is to make Park Sunghoon fall in love before Valentines Day. Instead? You accidentally shoot his best friends. Can you fix this disaster? Or will you fail at love—again? genre: Romance wc: 5.3k

I rushed this cuz I just wanted to post something for Valentines Day

Being a Cupid isn’t all pink hearts and romance. It’s stressful, and if you mess up even a little, you get yelled at by your very terrifying boss.

And you? Well, you mess up a lot.

Right now, you’re standing in Arch-Cupid Aphrodite’s grand, sparkling office, feeling like you’re about to be fired. Again.

Aphrodite—who is currently rubbing her temples like you personally gave her a migraine—lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard. “Y/N. My dear, hopelessly clumsy Cupid. Do you have any idea why you’re here?”

You do. But you also don’t feel like answering because the last time you did, you got lectured for an hour.

So, you try to look adorably innocent. “Because… I’m one of your most promising Cupids?”

Aphrodite stares at you. Jungwon, your immediate supervisor (who is standing in the corner looking so done), actually snorts.

“You,” Aphrodite says, her voice sweet like poison, “are the biggest walking disaster this realm has ever seen.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

Jungwon clears his throat. “You accidentally made a grandmother fall in love with her neighbor’s parrot last week.”

You wince. “Okay, but to be fair—”

“And let’s not forget,” Aphrodite continues, eyes burning into you, “that you once hit two people with a single arrow. Do you remember what happened then?”

You do.

That time, you accidentally struck two mortal enemies. It was beautiful for about ten minutes—until they realized what had happened and ended up confessing their hatred for each other instead.

In short: Chaos.

Aphrodite pinches the bridge of her nose. “You are officially on thin ice. One more mistake, and I will demote you.”

Your heart plummets. “Demote me to what?”

Jungwon coughs. “A Lonely Heart Fairy.”

You gasp. “That’s cruel!”

Lonely Heart Fairies don’t even get to shoot arrows. They just float around, handing tissues to heartbroken people and whispering, It’s okay, you’ll find someone someday.

That is not how you imagined your Cupid career going.

Aphrodite, looking smug at your terror, leans forward. “So, this is your final chance. One mission. One human. If you succeed, I might forgive your past mistakes.”

You straighten up, determined. “I won’t let you down.”

Aphrodite smirks. “Oh, I highly doubt that. But let’s see you try.”

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sends the official Cupid Mission file straight into your hands. You eagerly open it and read the name inside.

TARGET: PARK SUNGHOON

MISSION: MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE BEFORE FEBRUARY 14TH

You blink.

Jungwon whistles. “Oof. Him?”

You frown. “What’s wrong with him?”

Aphrodite leans back in her chair. “Park Sunghoon is not an easy target. The guy doesn’t believe in love. He calls it a ‘scam.’”

You gape at her. “Then why is he my mission?”

“Because,” Aphrodite says, smirking, “if you can make him fall in love, it’ll prove that even you aren’t completely hopeless.”

Well. That’s rude.

But fine. Challenge accepted.

You clutch the file to your chest and swear to yourself—you will make Park Sunghoon fall in love. You will not mess up.

Spoiler alert: You absolutely mess up.

Mortal Realm – Target Locked

You arrive on Earth with the grace of a majestic, ethereal being.

Just kidding.

You trip mid-flight, nearly faceplant into a tree, and barely manage to regain your balance before anyone notices.

Shaking off the near disaster, you hover above a cozy little café where your target—Park Sunghoon is currently sitting with his best friends, Jake and Jay.

You spot him immediately.

Jet-black hair. Sharp features. Dressed in a simple but effortlessly cool outfit. He’s casually stirring his coffee, looking like he was sculpted by the gods themselves—except for the fact that his face is twisted into a deep scowl.

Yeah. That’s definitely a guy who doesn’t believe in love.

You pull out your bow and nock a glowing pink arrow.

“Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “One shot. One target. You got this.”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, sighing as he mutters, “Valentine’s Day is just a corporate scam to sell chocolate and flowers.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.”

Jake, ever the golden retriever of the group, gasps dramatically. “You don’t believe in love?”

Sunghoon scoffs. “No. It’s fake.”

You gasp. Blasphemy.

This man needs to be humbled. And you’re just the Cupid to do it.

With renewed determination, you take aim, steady your grip, and release—

And then your foot catches on a rogue cloud.

You yelp as you lose balance mid-air. Your arrow, which was perfectly aimed for Sunghoon’s heart, goes completely off course—

—And smacks straight into Jake’s back.

You have made many mistakes in your Cupid career.

Once, you accidentally shot an arrow into a wedding bouquet, causing the bride to fall in love with the cake. Another time, you somehow managed to hit a guy who was already in love, making him propose on the spot—except it wasn’t to his girlfriend, but to a random waitress.

But this? This is a new low.

Because right now, you’re watching Jake Sim—the human embodiment of a golden retriever—practically glow with love as he gazes at Jay like he just discovered the meaning of life.

And Jay?

Jay looks horrified.

“This is bad,” you mutter under your breath, hovering above the chaos.

Understatement of the year.

Jake’s Problem? He’s Now Head Over Heels for Jay.

Jake has always been affectionate. But now, thanks to your horrible aim, he’s dialed it up to a hundred.

Currently, he’s practically bouncing after Jay as they walk down the street.

“Jay,” Jake sighs dreamily. “You have the best fashion sense. Like, how do you always look so cool?”

Jay pulls his hoodie up, walking faster. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Jake, completely ignoring him, continues, “And your voice? It’s got that deep vibe, you know? I feel like you should be a narrator for a really romantic drama.”

Jay stops dead in his tracks.

He turns, expression unreadable. “Jake.”

Jake beams. “Yeah?”

Jay looks him dead in the eyes. “I will fight you.”

Jake’s smile widens. “You’d totally win.”

Jay lets out the deepest sigh of his life.

Sunghoon, standing to the side with his hands shoved in his pockets, just watches the whole exchange. He glances between his best friends, squinting like he’s trying to solve a math problem.

“Okay,” Sunghoon finally says. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Jay groans. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Jake grabs Jay’s hand dramatically. “Jay, don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

Jay yanks his hand away so fast it nearly dislocates Jake’s arm. “I don’t feel it.”

Sunghoon sighs, looking utterly bored. “Is this your way of telling us you two are in love or something? Because I honestly couldn’t care less.”

Jay gags. “No!”

Jake blinks. “Wait, do you not like me back?”

Jay looks him straight in the eye. “I would rather be run over by a bus.”

Jake pouts. “Ouch.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Well, that clears things up.”

Jake, still pouting, turns back to Jay. “But you could like me, right?”

Jay groans again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like you, and I never will.”

You, watching from above, feel guilty at the sheer amount of distress on Jay’s face.

Jungwon, through the Cupid communication line, is screaming.

Jungwon: FIX IT. FIX IT RIGHT NOW.

Heeseung: I say we wait.

You? You’re panicking.

Because Cupid arrows are strong. They don’t just fade in an hour. If you don’t fix this, Jake is going to be hopelessly in love with Jay until next Valentine’s Day.

So you do what any desperate Cupid would do:

You grab another arrow, aim at Sunghoon, and fire.

And then—because you are you—Jay chooses that exact moment to move in front of him.

Jay. Gets. Hit.

You want to scream.

Because now, instead of one person suffering, both Jake and Jay are staring at each other like they’ve just discovered true love.

Jay, who only minutes ago looked like he wanted to punch Jake into another dimension, suddenly tilts his head.

“Wait,” Jay says slowly, eyes softening. “Jake, have your eyelashes always been that long?”

Jake gasps. “You noticed?!”

Jay suddenly looks deeply troubled. “Why do I care?”

Sunghoon, watching this disaster unfold, just stares.

Then, without missing a beat, he takes a sip of his coffee and says, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You are dying.

Up in Cupid HQ, Jungwon has officially lost it.

Jungwon: I want you fired.

Ni-ki: Best day of my life.

Your Crisis? Sunghoon STILL Doesn’t Believe in Love.

You cannot believe this.

This guy is ridiculous.

You’ve literally shot two of his best friends with powerful love arrows, and his reaction? Mild annoyance.

Sunghoon, watching Jake and Jay now complimenting each other’s hairstyles, lets out the longest sigh.

“I’m going home,” he announces, walking away without a care in the world.

Jake and Jay don’t even notice.

You? You are on the verge of tears.

Jungwon is still screaming at you through the Cupid system.

Ni-ki? Laughing so hard he might pass out.

And you?

You have no idea how to fix this.

But one thing is for sure:

This mission is already a disaster.

Cupid Rule #1: Never shoot yourself with your own arrow.

Cupid Rule #2: Never shoot yourself with your own arrow.

Cupid Rule #3: If you do shoot yourself with your own arrow… just accept the fact that you’ve ruined everything.

And yet, here you are.

Floating above a coffee shop, clutching your chest like a dramatic K-drama lead, because your own stupid love arrow is now lodged in you.

Up in Cupid HQ, everyone is losing their minds.

Ni-ki: OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

Heeseung: I am so happy to be alive right now.

Jungwon: I need a new job.

You? You are screwed.

But before you can even process what just happened, let’s rewind a little—

Sunghoon, The Oblivious Skeptic, Finally Notices Something is Off

Sunghoon is not dumb.

He may not believe in love, but he knows his best friends. And right now? His best friends are acting insane.

For one, Jake—who normally spends half his time annoying Jay and the other half talking about his dog—is suddenly acting like a love-struck poet.

He’s sitting on the café couch with his notebook open, eyes shining as he reads out loud:

“Jay, your voice is like the deep bass in my favorite song—”

“Jake, stop.”

“Your eyes? Pools of mystery, endless depth—”

“STOP.”

Jay, who normally meets Jake’s antics with an eye roll and a punch to the arm, is now blushing.

BLUSHING.

Sunghoon stares. Hard.

“What,” Sunghoon finally says, “is wrong with you two?”

Jake grins like a lovesick idiot. “We just get each other, man.”

Sunghoon blinks. “No, you don’t.”

Jay clears his throat, trying—and failing—to hide his flustered expression. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jake scoots closer, looking way too happy. “Jay, do you believe in fate?”

Sunghoon gags. “Oh my god.”

Jay’s entire face heats up. “I—I don’t—”

Sunghoon immediately slaps his hands over his ears. “Nope. I refuse to listen to this.”

He stands up, pacing. “You two are messing with me. That’s the only explanation. You’re pranking me.”

Jay crosses his arms. “Do you really think I would put myself through this willingly?”

Jake gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Jay, how could you?”

Sunghoon watches them for a long moment, before finally saying, “Okay. I don’t know what kind of experiment you guys are running, but I’m out.”

With that, he turns to leave.

Which means it is finally your chance to fix this.

Your Genius Plan (That Backfires Horribly)

You have been hiding behind a cloud this whole time, desperately trying to figure out how to salvage this mess.

Jake and Jay? Disasters.

Sunghoon? Still as emotionally unavailable as a locked safe.

Your mission? Still a failure.

But not for long.

Because this time, you’re prepared.

You grip your bow, pull back the string, and line up the perfect shot. Sunghoon is standing still, facing away from you. No distractions. No mistakes. You can do this.

You take a deep breath—

—And then, at the exact moment you release the arrow, Sunghoon suddenly turns his head.

Your eyes widen. Your stomach drops.

And before you can do anything—

The arrow hits you.

Cupid HQ: The Breakdown

The moment the arrow lodges itself into your chest, everything in Cupid HQ explodes.

Ni-ki screams so loudly, his audio cuts out.

And Jungwon?

Jungwon just silently places his head on his desk.

Ni-ki: Oh my God. You idiot.

Jungwon: I am filing my resignation.

And you?

Well.

You’re in trouble.

The Sudden, Horrifying Realization

The moment the arrow hits, your heart skips a beat.

And then it skips again when Sunghoon looks up.

You stare at him. Your face heats up.

Oh.

Oh no.

Because suddenly, Sunghoon’s messy hair looks a little more attractive than before.

And his sharp, unimpressed gaze? Feels more like smoldering intensity.

And when he crosses his arms and tilts his head—you almost swoon.

You clap a hand over your mouth.

No. No. NO.

This cannot be happening.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him.

Jungwon: How does it feel to be the dumbest Cupid in history?

Heeseung: We should let this play out.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon is Still Clueless

Sunghoon, completely unaware that you are currently losing your mind over him, sighs.

“Whatever. I’m going home.”

He turns, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and starts walking.

You just hover there, staring.

Is he… kinda cute?

No. No, no, NO. Get it together, Y/N.

But then he pushes a hand through his hair—casually, effortlessly—and the sunlight catches on his skin, making him glow just a little—

And you die inside.

This is the worst day of your entire existence.

The New, Horrifying Problem

You were supposed to make Sunghoon fall in love.

Instead, you shot yourself.

And now?

You have a tiny, very inconvenient crush on the one person who doesn’t believe in love.

Cupid HQ is still in chaos.

Jungwon is weeping. Ni-ki is wheezing. Heeseung is sending bets in the group chat.

And you?

You are so doomed.

Let’s do a quick recap.

You, a very bad Cupid, were supposed to make Park Sunghoon fall in love.

Instead, you shot his best friends, created an accidental love triangle, and—for the grand finale—shot yourself.

Now, you have a tiny, highly inconvenient crush on the one person who thinks romance is a scam.

Ni-ki is still laughing about it. Jungwon looks like he’s aged ten years. Heeseung? He’s treating this whole disaster like premium entertainment.

And you?

You are struggling.

It turns out, having feelings for someone makes you insufferably dumb.

Because now, every single thing Sunghoon does feels like a personal attack.

Like, when he pushes his hair back?

Why is that attractive?! It’s just hair!

Or when he leans against a wall with his arms crossed, looking all broody?

And don’t even get started on the way his jaw clenches when he’s annoyed.

One second, he’s frowning at his phone, and the next—

“OH MY GOD,” you whisper-shriek, floating behind him in total distress.

You slap a hand over your face, trying to will yourself into being normal.

It does not work.

Meanwhile, Jake and Jay Are Thriving

While you are having a full-blown crisis, Jake and Jay? They’re living their best romcom lives.

Jake, ever the golden retriever, has fully embraced his new romantic feelings.

“Jay,” he says one morning, beaming. “I made you a playlist.”

Jay blinks. “What?”

Jake shoves his phone in Jay’s face. On the screen, the playlist title reads: Songs That Remind Me of You.

Jay freezes. His ears go red.

“I—I don’t want this,” he huffs, pushing the phone away.

“Yes, you do,” Jake singsongs.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’M NOT—”

Jay glares, swipes the phone, and storms off—only to listen to the playlist on repeat for the next three hours.

Sunghoon, watching this unfold from across the room, looks deeply disturbed.

“What the hell is happening?” he mutters.

Sunghoon Starts Getting Suspicious

Jake and Jay acting like a couple? Weird.

You always being around? Even weirder.

The first few times, Sunghoon brushes it off as coincidence.

But then he starts noticing things.

Like how every time he turns around, you seem to be lurking nearby.

Or how you always look slightly panicked whenever he makes eye contact with you.

Or how, just yesterday, you were definitely staring at his arms when he rolled up his sleeves.

“…Do I know you?” he asks one afternoon, narrowing his eyes at you.

You freeze mid-hover. “W-what?”

“You. You’re always around.” He crosses his arms. “Are you following me or something?”

You panic. Hard.

“No!” you blurt out. “Absolutely not. I’m just—uh—admiring the architecture!”

Sunghoon looks up.

There is nothing special about the building.

“…Right.”

You internally scream.

Your Attempts to Act Normal (That Fail Miserably)

After that awkward encounter, you decide you need to calm down.

Sunghoon is just a mission. You are not actually in love with him. You just need to focus.

And so, you make a plan:

1. Avoid getting flustered.

2. Stop swooning like an idiot.

3. Act like a normal, non-crushing Cupid.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

Because that same evening, Sunghoon sits down at a café, flips open a book, and absently runs a hand through his hair—

And you promptly walk into a tree.

Not even float into it.

Just. Full-on. Smack. Into. A. Tree.

Sunghoon looks up at the sound of impact.

You, clinging to the tree, barely manage to whisper:

“I’m fine.”

Up in HQ, Ni-ki falls off his chair.

Ni-ki: This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Jungwon: I give up.

Heeseung: Y/N, if you die from embarrassment, can I take over your mission?

You groan, wishing you could sink into the ground.

Sunghoon’s Suspicion Levels: Increasing

By the end of the day, Sunghoon is fully convinced something weird is going on.

Not just because of Jake and Jay, but because of you.

The girl who keeps showing up.

The girl who always looks flustered.

The girl who walked into a literal tree trying to avoid eye contact.

Who are you?

And why do you look like you’re hiding something?

Sunghoon doesn’t believe in love.

But he does believe in mysteries.

And right now?

You are the biggest mystery of all.

At this point, you have accepted the harsh truth:

Park Sunghoon is immune to romance.

Like, actually, scientifically, impossibly immune.

Jake and Jay? They’re currently starring in their own accidental love story, complete with playlists, bickering disguised as flirting, and moments where they gaze at each other a little too long.

Sunghoon?

Still out here giving full-blown TED Talks about how love is a scam.

And you?

You are losing your mind.

Aphrodite is not pleased.

Her latest very aggressive message flashes across your Cupid communication screen:

Aphrodite: Y/N, do I need to remind you that FAILURE = DEMOTION?

Jungwon: I’d like to remind her just for fun.

Heeseung: Don’t stress her out more, dude.

Ni-ki: No, stress her out. This is hilarious.

Your job is on the line, your mission is falling apart, and you might still have a tiny inconvenient crush on the guy you’re supposed to be matchmaking.

So, naturally, you decide to do the only logical thing:

Force some romance into Sunghoon’s life.

Attempt #1: The Love Letter Approach

You figure this is a classic. Who doesn’t love a good anonymous love letter?

So, late at night, you slip a handwritten note into Sunghoon’s locker at the skating rink:

“Your eyes remind me of winter—cold, sharp, and impossible to ignore.”

Very poetic. Very swoon-worthy. You nailed it.

Except…

The next morning, Sunghoon pulls the note out, reads it, and immediately frowns.

Jay leans over. “What’s that?”

Sunghoon flips the paper around. “Spam.”

Jake blinks. “Spam?”

“Yeah. Probably some dumb prank.” Sunghoon crumples it up and tosses it into his bag. “People are weird.”

You, hiding behind a vending machine: “I HATE IT HERE.”

Up in HQ, Ni-ki is wiping tears from his eyes.

Jungwon: Y/N, this is painful to watch.

Heeseung: I mean… in his defense, it does sound kinda dramatic.

Attempt #2: The Cute Coffee Shop Encounter

Fine. Love letters were a flop, but this? This is foolproof.

You set everything up perfectly. A cozy little café, soft background music, a warm and inviting atmosphere—peak romance vibes.

You even nudge fate a little so that Sunghoon and a sweet girl accidentally sit at the same table.

This is it. This is your moment.

Sunghoon takes a deep breath. Looks at the menu.

And orders a black coffee.

No pastries. No small talk. No heartwarming moment with the girl fate literally pushed into his lap.

He drinks his coffee. Stands up. Leaves.

Up in HQ, Jungwon is silently crying into his hands.

Attempt #3: The Classic “Accidentally Fall into His Arms” Trick

This is it.

Your last resort.

The golden move of every romcom protagonist in history.

The plan? Simple.

You will “accidentally” trip in front of Sunghoon. He will catch you. You will lock eyes. His heart will stutter with newfound emotion.

Boom. Romance unlocked.

Except…

The second you step forward to execute the plan—

Your foot catches on absolutely nothing, and instead of a graceful, slow-motion fall…

You FULLY EAT THE SIDEWALK.

Like. Face-first. Absolute destruction.

Sunghoon pauses mid-step, staring down at you in pure amusement.

“…Are you okay?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You, still face down on the pavement: “I’m fine.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “You fall a lot.”

You stay lying on the ground, contemplating every life choice that led you here.

At this point, you’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that Sunghoon is still immune to romance…

Or the fact that you’re falling harder than ever (literally and figuratively).

This is a bad idea.

A horrendous, catastrophic, should-be-illegal kind of idea.

Yet, here you are, sitting in Cupid HQ, staring at Ni-ki like he’s lost his mind.

“Fake date him.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ni-ki leans forward, grinning like a man who thrives on chaos. “Think about it! Sunghoon doesn’t believe in love, right? What better way to prove it’s real than by making him experience it firsthand?”

Heeseung, the traitor, nods. “Honestly… kinda genius.”

Jungwon?

Jungwon looks like he aged ten years in the past two minutes.

“I hate this. I hate all of this,” he groans, rubbing his temples. “Do you people even hear yourselves? Fake dating never ends well!”

Ni-ki shrugs. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Jungwon mutters something about quitting his job and moving to a stress-free dimension, but you’re too busy spiraling.

Because this plan?

It’s INSANE.

And yet…

For some stupid reason, you go through with it.

Step One: Trick Sunghoon into Fake Dating You

Unfortunately, Sunghoon is not an easy person to fool.

It takes a full week of strategic planning, some questionable emotional manipulation (“Don’t you wanna prove love is fake once and for all?”), and a little bit of divine intervention (thank you, fate), but somehow—somehow—you convince him.

“Well, fine,” Sunghoon says after an obnoxiously long silence. “But this is strictly business.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Step Two: Survive Sunghoon’s ‘Dating Contract’

Because Sunghoon?

Yeah, he takes this whole thing like an actual corporate deal.

He hands you a list of rules.

1. No actual flirting. (Not a problem. You’re totally normal around him. Totally.)

2. No unnecessary touching. (Does this mean ‘no holding onto his arm when he looks stupidly good in a leather jacket’? Asking for a friend.)

3. No kissing. (Okay, no one even brought that up, but now you can’t stop thinking about it??)

“Got it?” Sunghoon asks, raising a brow.

You nod. “Yup. Totally fine. Easy.”

Spoiler alert: It is not fine.

Step Three: Try Not to Fall Apart (Fail Miserably)

Because here’s the problem.

Sunghoon?

He’s way too good at the boyfriend act.

Like, way too good.

He casually puts his arm around your chair at restaurants. Calls you by stupidly attractive pet names as a joke. Winks.

WINKS.

And you?

You are suffering.

Physically, emotionally, spiritually suffering.

Meanwhile, Jake & Jay Are Thriving

Jake and Jay—are having the time of their lives.

They find your total breakdown hilarious.

“So, uh…” Jake smirks over his iced Americano. “On a scale of one to I’m screwed, how bad is it?”

You glare. “I am not screwed.”

Jay, scrolling through his phone, doesn’t even look up. “You’re so screwed.”

Jake grins. “We should bet on how long it takes before you break.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Jay agrees, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Two weeks, max.”

Jake hums. “Nah, I give them ten days.”

You groan, slamming your head onto the table.

Sunghoon, sipping his black coffee, completely oblivious.

You are officially doomed.

Something is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

And for once, it’s not your fault.

Because Sunghoon?

Yeah, he’s acting different.

At first, you try to ignore it. Maybe you’re just imagining things. Maybe it’s just the fake dating getting to your head.

But then—

Exhibit A: Sunghoon starts remembering your coffee order.

You don’t even think he listens when you talk about it, but one day, you’re yawning at a café, brain completely fried, and suddenly—

“Here,” Sunghoon says, shoving a cup into your hands.

You blink down at it.

It’s your exact order. Right down to the little extra shot of vanilla syrup you never actually say out loud but always get.

You stare at him. “You… got me coffee?”

Sunghoon shrugs, eyes on his own drink. “You always take forever to decide. Figured I’d save us time.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Exhibit B: He starts guiding you through crowds.

Which, okay, is normal… except it’s not.

Because before, Sunghoon would just walk ahead and let you struggle. But now?

Now, every time you’re out together, he instinctively grabs your wrist and tugs you along, effortlessly weaving through people.

The worst part?

It’s casual. Like he doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s just natural for him now.

Like—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Exhibit C: He starts looking at you for just a little too long.

Like when you’re laughing at something Jake said. Or when you’re rambling about your favorite snacks. Or when you’re just existing, and suddenly you feel his gaze linger on you.

And the way he looks—

It’s different.

It’s soft. Curious. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

And you?

You are losing it.

Cupid HQ is, of course, fully invested.

Ni-ki: IS THIS IT?? IS HE FALLING???

Heeseung: I think she’s the one falling.

Jungwon: I don’t even care anymore. Just tell me when they crash and burn.

And honestly?

They don’t have to wait long.

Because then—

Then disaster strikes.

The Moment Everything Goes Horribly Wrong

It’s late. You’re at Sunghoon’s place, casually not panicking over your very real feelings, when—

“Hey, what’s this?”

You freeze.

Sunghoon is standing near his couch, holding something. Something very, very bad.

Your Cupid equipment.

The bow. The arrows. The mission papers.

Everything.

Your blood runs cold.

Sunghoon frowns, turning over one of the documents. “Mission… ‘Make Park Sunghoon Fall in Love by Valentine’s Day’?”

Your heart stops.

Panic explodes in your chest.

“Sunghoon—”

His eyes flick to you, realization slowly sinking in.

Then, finally—

“You…” His voice is eerily quiet. “This was all fake?”

You swear you hear your soul leave your body.

Sunghoon steps back. His jaw clenches. His hands tighten around the paper like he’s physically holding himself together.

And you—

You realize, too late, that this isn’t just fake dating anymore.

This isn’t just some Cupid assignment gone wrong.

This is real.

He’s hurt.

Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “So what was the plan, huh?” He waves the papers in the air. “Make me fall in love and then what? Laugh about it later?”

You feel sick. “No, it wasn’t—”

“Or was I just some stupid experiment to prove love is real?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. Your hands shake. “I—”

You don’t know what to say.

Because no matter what, the truth is awful.

Sunghoon was right about love. It is fake—at least, it was for you at first. And now?

Now you don’t even know what’s real anymore.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Then, without another word—

He walks out.

You are officially heartbroken.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

The final day.

And Sunghoon still won’t talk to you.

Which, honestly? Fair.

But for the first time since this mission began, you don’t care about Cupid HQ, your job, or the threat of demotion.

You just want to fix things.

So, like the true disaster Cupid you are, you decide to break every rule in existence.

Rule #1: Humans Aren’t Supposed to See Cupids

You ignore it.

You push past the barrier between realms, your wings shimmering into existence as you land in front of Sunghoon’s apartment.

Then, without thinking, you knock.

The door swings open.

And there he is.

Park Sunghoon.

Looking unimpressed and very much still mad at you.

“…You again.”

You nod, wings twitching nervously. “Me again.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “How did you even—?”

“I’m a Cupid,” you blurt. “We have our ways.”

Sunghoon sighs. “Of course.”

And then, before he can close the door on your face—

You start explaining.

The Truth, Unfiltered

Everything.

The mission. The arrows. The way you accidentally destroyed Jake and Jay’s lives. The way you were supposed to make Sunghoon fall in love, but ended up falling for him instead.

You spill it all.

Sunghoon just listens. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

You swallow, heart pounding.

“And that’s it,” you finish quietly. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. But I did.”

More silence.

And then—

Sunghoon sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

“I knew something was off,” he mutters. “Because there’s no way I actually fell for you that easily.”

You freeze.

You blink.

“…Wait. You—”

Before you can finish, Sunghoon leans in and kisses you.

Your brain malfunctions.

Because Sunghoon is kissing you.

Because this is real.

Because he actually fell for you, despite all the disasters.

When he pulls away, he smirks. “I hope you know this means your mission failed.”

You blink, still dazed. “What?”

“You were supposed to make me fall in love,” he teases. “But I did that on my own.”

Your heart combusts.

And then—

Sunghoon pulls you in again.

Then, somewhere in the distance, someone yells, “WHAT THE ACTUAL—”

You barely have time to process the fact that your comms are still on before a burst of light explodes in the room. A portal rips open, and three very panicked Cupids—Ni-ki, Heeseung, and Jungwon—come flying through.

“You—” Ni-ki chokes, pointing at you. “You idiot!”

Heeseung is hyperventilating. “You told him? You broke the rules? Do you want to get turned into a pigeon?!”

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, just groans and rubs his temples. “We are so getting fired for this.”

Sunghoon blinks at them. Then at you. “Is this normal for you?”

You sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

And just like that, Sunghoon—stoic, unshakable Sunghoon—bursts into laughter.

Meanwhile, Somewhere in the Chaos…

“Wait.”

Jake suddenly sits up straight at the café, blinking rapidly.

Jay, sitting across from him, narrows his eyes. “What?”

Jake shakes his head like a confused puppy. “I—I think I just woke up.”

Jay’s stomach drops. “…Oh no.”

Jake’s eyes widen. He stares at Jay. At the romantic playlist. At the love letters.

And then—

Jay gasps. His own brain clears.

They look at each other.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Dude,” Jake whispers.

“…Don’t,” Jay warns.

“…Did we just—”

“DO NOT SAY IT.”

...

Final Score?

Mission: Successful.

Your dignity? Still questionable.

Jake and Jay? …In emotional recovery.

Cupid chaos? Forever.

Likes and Reblogs are much appreciated!!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

In The Beginning | Metamorphosis | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ? )

Warnings: angst! alllll the angst. fire, burn wounds, canon gore,

Word Count: 4765

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

The morning sun rose as you continued to frantically scribble in your journal anything and everything you could possibly think of pertaining to the apocalypse. 

Your laptop was opened to pinging the location of the Impala; you had no doubt the brothers would be on the move again soon. 

Sure enough, you were right. You followed the speeding car to a few states over. With the sun setting on a day full of driving and stalking the brothers, you were grateful when the beacon signaling the Impala’s location started heading toward a motel. 

You knew it would be too dangerous to stay at the same motel they did, and thankfully, found another just five minutes away. If the two men did set off again, you were close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to catch up to them. 

Being so close, yet so far from Dean was hurting you. It almost was a physical pain clawing at your insides. Everything was just wearing so heavy on your soul, and you wanted your person to comfort you. 

It had been a while since you had a warm shower. Sure, the water pressure wasn’t ideal, but at least it wasn’t a truck stop bathroom shower. And either option was superior to a sink bath.

You dried your hair with your towel, feeling too tired to take care of your hair in any other way. While you brushed your teeth lazily, all you could do was stare into your reflection. Your eyes were heavy, your hair was in sodden knots, and your face was pallid. 

Following a nighttime routine that was now considered a luxury to you after months of living in your car or an abandoned cabin made you feel like you were existing outside of your body. You felt completely detached from who you’d become when you were with the Winchesters. Despite Dean having come back, you could only think of your life in terms of before his death and after. Both versions of you felt like completely separate individuals. 

Thinking of Dean made you clutch the pillow beside you to your chest. Then, alone in your motel room, you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

***

You jolted awake to see Uriel standing at the foot of your bed. 

“What can I do for you?” you sighed, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and rubbing your hands down your thighs. 

Uriel tilted his head. “I’m surprised at you, (Y/N).”

You gave him a curious look. 

“You’re usually far more argumentative,” he finished. 

“I’m too tired to fight you,” you admitted. 

“There are things you don’t know about the Winchesters,” the angel told you. 

“Like what?” You stretched your arms back, yawning deeply. 

“Mary made a deal.”

That snapped you to attention. “Dean’s mom?!”

“Yes. A deal that resulted in Azazel returning to her home ten years later for Sam. For what; we don’t know,” he explained. 

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why the hell would she do that?” “Her mother, father, and John were about to die,” he responded. 

“Oh.” You stared at the floor, mind reeling with this new information. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You have to stop him, (Y/N),” he said. 

“Who, Sam?”

The angel nodded emotionlessly. 

“Wait, why? Stop him from doing what?”

His disdainful look quieted you down. “You ask far too many questions.” After a brief pause, he told you, “425 Waterman.”

“What does that mean?”

Before you could get an answer out of him, he was gone.

You plugged “425 Waterman” into a search engine and found it led to a seemingly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. With your duffel bag in hand, you set off.

****

Dean burst up from his bed, back in the present as opposed to 1973. Castiel stood near the hunter’s feet while he breathed out, “I couldn't stop any of it. She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?”

“Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it,” the angel replied evenly. 

Dean stood at attention, shoulders bristling with anger. “What?”

Castiel’s reply was infuriatingly simple. “Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination.”

“Then why'd you send me back?”

“For the truth,” the angel said. “Now you know everything we do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean gave an incredulous look. 

Castiel looked over to the other bed which apparently hadn’t been slept in; Dean noted this as well. “Where’s Sam?” he asked. 

Castiel avoided his question. “We know what Azazel did to your brother. What we don't know is why; what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up.”

Dean gritted the question out through his teeth a second time. “Where's Sam?”

“425 Waterman.”

Dean grabbed his keys and jacket, stalling by the door for only a minute. “ ‘S, uh—”

Castiel turned back around to face him. 

“Is (Y/N) involved in all this? Does she know… anything?”

Dean’s face dropped in shock when the angel nodded. 

“What the hell are you guys doing to her?” the hunter asked, eyebrows knitting together. 

Castiel, once again, avoided his question. “Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or she will.”

**** You heard Sam asking, “Where’s Lilith?” from a distance away as you entered the damp, dark warehouse from its back door. Silently, you used the shadows to hide your own as you approached Sam and whoever he was talking to. 

“Kiss my ass,” the man responded. You could almost hear a taunting smile in his voice; no doubt he was a demon. 

“I'd watch myself if I were you,” Sam replied. 

“Why? Huh? Because you're Sam Winchester, Mr. Big Hero? And yet here you are, slutting around with some demon. Real hero.” That nearly made you falter. ‘Demon?!’ you thought. ‘Was that who I saw him with at the diner?!’

“Tell me about those months without your brother,” the demon continued. “About all the things you and this demon bitch do in the dark.”

‘Holy fuck, Sam.’

Through a rack of cardboard boxes, you were able to see Sam forcing the demon out of his vessel. Your eyes widened in shock, and you swore your heart stopped for a moment. 

A short woman with dark hair emerged from the shadows. “How'd it feel?”

Sam smiled. “Good. No more headaches.” He started to untie the man in front of him, and thankfully, he hadn’t seen you yet. 

“None?” the demon asked. “That’s good.” The man started to stir, and Sam helped him toward the door behind him. 

‘Thank god I came in from the back,’ you mentally remarked. 

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Dean who looked very, very angry. 

Sam stopped in his tracks, and your heart nearly stopped. 

‘Oh, fuck.’

“So,” Dean sneered, “anything you wanna tell me, Sam?”

“Dean, hold on, okay? Just let me—”

“You gonna say, ‘let me explain’? You're gonna explain this? How about this? Why don't you start with who she is—” he pointed to the demon which you were equally curious about, “and what the hell is she doing here?”

The woman had a smile in her voice. “It's good to see you again, Dean.”

Your hand flew to your mouth. 

“Ruby?” Dean questioned.

That was who you’d assumed it was, too. 

“Is that Ruby?” Dean asked Sam, becoming angrier with each word. 

Suddenly, Dean attacked Ruby and shoved her against the wall she’d been standing against while watching the interrogation. 

“Don’t!” Sam cried, fighting Dean for the knife he was holding. 

Dean threw Sam against the wall, too, while Ruby struggled her way out of his hold. Suddenly, she had Dean pinned against the wall with her hand around his neck. 

Just as you were about to jump out and help him, Sam ordered, “Ruby, stop it!”

You held your breath as you waited for Ruby to release him. When she finally let him go, he taunted, “Well, aren't you an obedient little bitch?”

“Ruby,” Sam warned. 

When she still didn’t back off, he brought up the man who was possessed earlier. “Ruby, he's hurt. Go.”

With one more undoubtedly scathing look at Dean, she turned to help the man out of the room. 

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” Dean growled at her. 

“The ER. Unless you want to go another round first,” she smirked. 

When he didn’t say anything, she left. Dean and Sam just stared at each other for a long moment. 

“Dean,” Sam muttered. 

Dean just stormed out of the door after Ruby, leaving Sam behind. 

“Dean!”

****

“Uriel!” you called as soon as you got into your motel room. “We gotta talk, man.”

When you turned around at the sound of angel wings, you immediately began interrogating him. “What was that? How can Sam do that?

“Do you understand why you have to stop him in the event that Dean doesn’t?” the angel asked. 

“Wait, ‘stop him,’ how?”

“You know how,” he replied. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, I’m not gonna kill him—”

“If Dean can’t stop him, you will,” Uriel insisted with that frustratingly assertive tone. “He’s on a dangerous path, (Y/N). One that will have devastating consequences.”

Uriel left you to stew on his words. You knew you could drive yourself crazy trying to understand what he meant by “devastating consequences,” but given how Revelations went, you were sure it wasn’t good. 

Still, the idea of having to kill your friend if Dean couldn’t “stop him”— whatever that entailed— was horrifying. If you and Dean did survive the apocalypse, he would never forgive you for killing his brother. Not to mention, you would never forgive yourself. 

You laid in bed for hours with your arms wrapped around yourself. It hurt to think. It hurt to cry. Being awake hurt. As you’d written in your journal, “Being Heaven’s bitch is no joke.”

****

The next day, you followed the Winchesters to Carthage, Missouri. How they hadn’t killed each other on the drive there, you weren’t sure.

It seemed they were on a stakeout of their own. With all of the “end of the world” business, you were relieved to be back on what seemed like a normal hunt. Granted, you tried to convince yourself that it was normal. Being in yet another stolen car while stalking Sam and Dean was by no means your preferred version of normalcy. 

You tried to get a closer look at the house Sam and Dean were staking out by using your pair of binoculars. All you could see through the kitchen window was a man in a clean white t-shirt holding a package of raw meat. At first, nothing seemed odd. Then, as if overcome by an insatiable need that rivaled that of a heroin addict, the man tore into the package with his bare hands. His chin and shirt became bloodied while he shoveled gobs of meat into his mouth. 

Your face contorted in a grimace, and you pulled the binoculars away from your face in disgust. 

****

Sam and Dean headed out for some dinner, and you took that as an opportunity to bug their motel room. You needed to understand what they did about this hunt given you hadn’t found any obituaries in the papers or news that could be tied to him, and your wildest idea ended up being the most logical, too. Bugging their room wasn’t ideal, and it required you to drop a few hundred dollars in a nearby tech store. You’d spent a few hours prior learning how exactly to hook them up to your computer remotely. 

Upon entering the room that you were completely positive was Sam and Dean’s, you found a balding, older man sitting at the table with a beer. 

He startled to his feet, and you drew your gun. He returned the gesture. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you sneered. 

“Could ask you the same question,” he replied. 

“Why are you in my room?” you asked, lying easily. 

“This ain’t your room,” the man grunted. 

“Oh, really?” You were beginning to doubt that you’d actually found the right room. ‘It definitely said ‘7’ on the door.’ 

“I know the boys this room belongs to. So unless you’re a groupie—”

The tension in your shoulders lessened slightly. “Wait, you know Sam and Dean?”

The man seemed surprised. “...Yeah. Friend of their dad’s. How do you know them?”

You smirked, stowing your gun. “Like you said: groupie.” You pretended you’d left something in their room during your most recent romp with Dean, and used that time to discreetly plant the bugs. You left so many that even if they found one, they would never find them all. 

“You found your necklace?” the man asked as you headed for the door.

“No,” you sighed, frowning a little. Then, you shrugged. “It’s alright. I can always buy another one.” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief when you’d made it back to your car without any further interruptions. With your headphones in your ears, you prepared for the long night of snooping ahead. 

You discovered the man’s name was Travis, and he did, in fact, know Sam and Dean’s dad. With pleasantries exchanged, Travis inevitably brought you up.

“You had time to stake out Montgomery’s house? Y’know, after you picked up that girl?” he laughed. 

When an uncomfortable silence passed, Dean said, “Travis, what girl?”

“There was a girl here earlier. She said she knew you two.” He sounded just as confused as Dean. 

“We ain’t been in town long enough to pick up any girls. That’d be record timing, even for me,” Dean joked despite his obvious alarm. 

“Oh, shit,” Travis cursed. “I— I’m sorry, boys, she said she’d left a necklace here? She wasn’t here for longer than five minutes. Just looked for her stuff and left.”

“What’d she look like?” Sam asked.

Travis described your height, hair color and skin color to the best of his memory, to which Dean chuckled coldly. It made your stomach drop just a little. 

“Oh, yeah. Old fling of mine,” he spat. “She just can’t let me go.” You knew he knew you were listening. It made his words cut you that much deeper, and you were sure that was exactly what he was intending.

****

Time went by of just sitting and listening to the Winchesters talk to John’s friend about how to kill a rougarou. You’d heard of them before; cajun folklore had always been incredibly interesting to you. 

Dean and Sam seemed to have made no effort to find any of the bugs given none of them had gone off-line. 

Something Sam brought up caught your attention. He said there are theories around rougarous who never turn because they never eat human flesh or “long pig.” 

It seemed Travis was moving around as he spoke. “Fact is, every rougarou I ever saw or heard of took that bite.”

“Okay, well, that doesn’t mean that Jack will,” Sam argued. It was just like listening to him argue with John, and that memory almost brought a smile to your face; reminiscent of a simpler time with no angels and no apocalypse. 

“So what do we do? Sit and hope and wait for a body count?” Travis argued.

“No, we talk to him. Explain what's happening. That way, he can fight it.”

Travis snorted. “Fight it? Are you kidding me?” He lowered his voice to almost a growl. “You ever been really hungry? I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?”

You had been. You’d let Steven have most of the groceries your father and mother had purchased for the week; especially since your father would purposefully ration your food to keep you small. It made you better at fitting into small hiding places. 

You knew Dean had been, too. You’d always figured he jumped at the chance for every burger he could get his hands on as a result of him giving up his own food for Sam when they were kids. 

“So somebody slaps a big, juicy sirloin in front of you, you walking away?” Travis continued. “That's what we are to him now: meat on legs. I'm sorry. I'm sure he's a stand-up guy, but it's pure, base instinct. Everything in nature's gotta eat. You think he can stop himself 'cause he's nice?”

Sam firmly responded, “I don't know. But we're not gonna kill him unless he does something to get killed for.”

The room went silent for a moment before you heard the door slam behind who you assumed was Sam. He was always one to walk away as opposed to continuing an argument. 

“What's up with your brother?”

Dean just muttered, “Don’t get me started.”

****

When the room finally went quiet that night, and Travis had left, you leaned your seat back to try and get some rest. With your computer plugged into its portable charger and the car completely silent, you curled up into the seat. 

Moving too far from the bugs would cripple your ability to access them. Thus, sleeping in the car, it was.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought crossed your mind. What Uriel was having you do was only going to incriminate you more if the FBI caught up to you. You were stalking two men. With a trail of men assumed dead behind you, they’d only think you were preparing for your next kill. Panic rose in your chest the more and more you realized you were becoming no different than a serial killer. Even if you did manage to make things up to Dean some kind of way, you’d never be able to look at yourself in the mirror the same way again. What had you become? And for what? 

You did your best to remind yourself that everything you were doing, you did for Dean. However, when you stacked all of your actions against one another, that really didn’t make what you were doing redeemable in your mind. 

Anxiety clawed at you, and you curled further in on yourself while sobs wracked your body. In the midst of your panic, you did the only thing you could think to do. You begged for Castiel’s guidance as you’d often done as a teenager. Except this time, he answered. 

“Why are you shaking?” a voice asked from beside you. 

You slowly pulled your hands from over your head and sat up to face him. “You—” you sniffed, “you answered?”

He nodded. 

“What makes this time different?” you asked, tears flowing freely. “Why answer now? Am I only important because I’m helping you now?” 

“You’ve always been important, (Y/N),” Castiel told you. “I just haven’t always been able to answer.”

That answer was less than satisfactory to you, but you accepted it, anyway. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” you wiped your nose with the back of your sleeve, and your cheeks with the tips of your fingers. “Please.”

He knitted his brows together. “You are. Why do you doubt?”

You laughed in spite of yourself. “Why wouldn’t I doubt? The boys hate me, Bobby hates me, I am… a stone’s throw from a serial killer.” You remembered Bela’s words and almost smiled at the memory of her. If only she knew how accurate she’d been. “I don’t even feel useful to Heaven. And I wish I could say I’m doing all this out of nobility or some moral obligation. I’m not. I just want Dean to be safe. And at least this way I can be close to him without hurting him more than I already have.”

Castiel seemed to ponder on your words as you spoke. “You are vital to the success of this mission.”

“Whose mission? God’s? Why has he started giving a fuck all of a sudden when he’s been on a coffee break for five-hundred-thousand years?” you scoffed. 

That seemed to confuse Castiel further. “You are angry at god. Why?”

“Again, Clarence, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Who is Clarence?” he asked. “My name is Castiel.”

You laughed, anger melting with the innocence of an immortal celestial being. “An angel from It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s a really good movie, actually.” You took a deep breath. “Look at my life, man. I’m staking out my ex-boyfriend and his brother. I haven’t had a real conversation with someone who isn’t an angel in almost six months. My family is dead by my hand. The only family I had left; I betrayed their trust for a god I don’t even believe in. And I don’t think there’s anything I can do to fix this.”

Castiel pondered for another moment. “I can’t help you with the Winchesters. The order you’ve been given came directly from Michael; Uriel was simply a messenger.—” “Whoa, wait, this is the second time I’m hearing a fuckin’ archangel is steering my ship. Why does he care about me?” you questioned. 

“I don’t question the orders, (Y/N). They just are.” You nodded, understanding what that felt like. You thought your days of blind obedience were over after your father died. If only you’d known. 

“I can help you stay hidden, though,” the angel told you. 

That piqued your interest. “You can?”

“Law enforcement won’t be hunting you anymore.” He put two of his fingers to your forehead, and the world went dark. 

****

The next time you woke up, you remembered Castiel’s words and immediately checked your laptop. You searched for any key terms related to your case, and they were all gone. A wide smile spread across your face. “Thanks, Clarence,” you whispered as you continued scrolling through files in disbelief. 

While that did make your job less stressful, you weren’t out of the woods yet. You couldn’t exactly run right back to the Winchesters; they didn’t even want to look at you anymore. Remembering that fact, you sighed and began your morning routine.

You drove to the nearest gas station to refill the car and brush your teeth and hair in the bathroom. You changed into a fresh set of clothes and took the best “sink shower” you could with the toiletries you had in a grocery bag. While this was by no means ideal, at least being hygienic in some way made you feel a bit better about your situation. 

It was early, but that was how you preferred it. You needed to get the jump on the Winchesters if you were going to be able to keep them from this hunt. You couldn’t let Dean end up in the line of fire again and risk showing up a second too late. 

If they already knew you were listening, what the hell? Why not try to shoo them out of town and back to safety at Bobby’s?

****

When you arrived at the Montgomery residence, no one was home. You figured they wouldn’t be; it was the middle of the workday. You’d used your morning to produce a makeshift flamethrower; just in case. With the time you had in the house alone, you looked for any signs that this guy really was a monster— any large amounts of dried blood in the basement or on furniture, for example— and were incredibly pleased to find none. 

Your stomach growled, begging for attention when you made your way back to your car. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t ignore your body any longer if you wanted to have a fighting chance against a rougarou. So, after grabbing yourself some dinner, you returned to the house. Nothing seemed off; around seven PM, the wife returned home. But where was Jack? A pit formed in your stomach, but you prayed he wasn’t out killing someone. 

Finally, around nine, Jack came back to the house. You gave him a few minutes inside before you’d go to the door to try and talk to him. He didn’t appear to have blood on his shirt or already morphed beyond human capability when he’d arrived, so that made you feel a bit better. 

However, when you knocked on the door, there was no answer. Fearing the worst, you burst through the door with your flamethrower. Much to your surprise, Travis was inside with Jack and his wife tied to chairs in the living room. 

“Uh, what’s going on here?” you asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. 

Jack’s wife seemed terrified; her hair was a mess, and there was a gag in her mouth. 

“What did she do? She’s not a monster,” you said, pointing to her. 

“She’s carryin’ a monster’s baby,” he said. 

“Wait, what?” You recovered from your momentary shock and thought of another viable solution. “Abortions exist, y’know. Just have her get one of those—”

`The woman screamed around her gag.

“Darlin’, I’m tryin’ to save you from getting set on fire, okay?” you quipped. “Relax.” Normally, you’d be much more sympathetic to a person in her position, but the last few months had hardened your already weary heart. 

Travis was looking at you like you had three heads. 

You laughed. “Wait, you find abortions abhorrent, but you’ll deep fry the mom and kid? You are screwed up, man.” “Look, kid, I’m not gonna be around another thirty years to come kill this kid before he kills someone else. This is how it has to be,” Travis huffed, clearly aggravated with your disruption of his hunt. 

“I don’t think it’s that cut and dry, though. I can’t believe I’m sayin’ that, but I don’t think it is,” you stated. “Look, I’ve been hanging out around their house a while now. I’m not seeing any ‘long pig’ or massive blood stains. I think we just need to chalk this one up to a messy home invasion and let these people go.” Your eyes were pleading despite your tone bordering on playful. 

“No-can-do, kid,” he said. He started to pour a can of gasoline on the floor around the couple.

The woman screamed around her gag again, struggling against her binds.

Just then, Jack burst out of his cuffs and jumped at Travis. You tried to lunge at Jack to get him off Travis, but that only resulted in you being thrown into a nearby wall. 

Painfully, you pushed yourself up amidst Travis’s blood curdling screams. 

When you’d finally gotten up from the floor, Jack had untied his wife, and she was bolting out the door in fear. 

With Jack having already eaten long pig and Travis long gone, you grabbed your makeshift flamethrower that had been thrown away from you. With your mind foggy and body aching, you lit the gas and aimed it at the snarling creature. In the process of lighting him up, you neglected to remember the gas Travis had poured all around the room. The entire room was ablaze within seconds, and the rougarou collapsed to the ground as he burned.

You turned to run to the door, but Jack sank his claws into your calf. With a yelp, you fell forward to the floor that was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. You kicked at Jack’s hand frantically, and then his face. You managed to get away from him as he breathed his last, the flames having completely subdued him. Smoke filled your lungs despite your body’s best attempts to cough it out. 

Flames were quickly encroaching upon the pristinely white front door of the house, highlighting its edges in a bright orange as you raced toward it. The doorknob was hot to the touch, but you powered through and got the door open. 

You limped as fast as you could out on the front lawn as the house blazed behind you. With your leg throbbing, adrenaline dropping, and head pounding, you collapsed to the floor. 

***

The first thing you felt was the pain. Hot, searing pain emanating from your right calf, a dull throb from the back of your head, and burning in your lungs. You began to stir, fitfully stretching your limbs. Then, you felt a sheet or a blanket had been placed over you. Where were you? The hospital? 

No, the light you were beginning to see as you opened your eyes was too warm and dim to be the hospital. 

‘Oh, fuck. Where am I?!’ 

“You look like hell,” a familiar voice said.

Your eyes shot open, and you tried to push yourself up on your right arm ignoring the burning in your left. It was then your eyes landed on him. 

“Dean,” you breathed out, eyes filling with tears. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

A Firecracker's Fury

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Strong language, intense confrontation, brief physical altercation, aka Shane being an asshole and Daryl gonna have to step in before Shane gets beat by his wifey

Author's Note: Enjoy ripping Shane a new one (I’m ngl I never liked Shane)

Masterlist MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The Georgia sun beat down mercilessly on the camp, casting long shadows as the day wore on. The air was thick with humidity and unspoken tensions. You were near the RV, sorting through a pile of scavenged supplies, when Shane's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere.

"Why the hell are we rationing water like this?" Shane's tone was sharp, frustration evident as he addressed the group.

You straightened, turning to face him, a frown creasing your brow. "Because we need to make it last, Shane. It's called survival."

He stepped closer, his posture aggressive, eyes narrowing. "Maybe if some people pulled their weight, we wouldn't have to scrape by."

Your eyes flashed with anger. "And who exactly isn't pulling their weight?"

Shane's lips curled into a sneer. "You, for starters. Always bossing people around, but I don't see you doing the hard work."

A fire ignited within you. "I do plenty, and you know it. Just because I don't parade around with a gun doesn't mean I'm not contributing."

He scoffed, dismissive. "Maybe if you spent less time yapping and more time working, we'd be better off."

The camp had fallen silent, all eyes on the confrontation. Before you could retort, Shane took another step closer, invading your personal space.

"You think you're tough, huh?" His voice was low, menacing.

Without thinking, you shoved him back, your palms striking his chest. "Back off, Shane."

He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, his face contorting with rage. "You wanna go?"

Before the situation could escalate further, a familiar figure stepped between you and Shane. Daryl, his expression calm but his eyes cold, faced Shane. "Back off."

Shane's jaw tightened. "This ain't your business, Dixon."

"It is when you're talking to my wife like that," Daryl replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Shane looked between you and Daryl, a mix of anger and something else—perhaps realization—flickering in his eyes. Without another word, he turned and walked away, tension radiating off him.

As the camp slowly returned to its routines, Daryl turned to you, his rough exterior softening. "You alright?"

You nodded, the adrenaline ebbing away. "Yeah. Thanks."

He reached out, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Ain't gonna let anyone talk to you like that."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I can handle myself, you know."

He smirked. "I know. But you're the only one I care about."

You stepped closer, resting your forehead against his. "Same goes for you, Dixon."

In a world gone mad, the two of you had found a rare and precious connection. To everyone else, you were a force to be reckoned with—a firecracker ready to explode. But with Daryl, you were home.

---

The Georgia sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the camp. After the earlier confrontation with Shane, the camp had settled into an uneasy calm. You found solace in the routine tasks, but your mind kept drifting back to the tension that had flared.

As dusk settled, you made your way to the tent you shared with Daryl. The canvas structure was modest, but it was your sanctuary amidst the chaos. Inside, the faint scent of pine mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest, creating a comforting atmosphere.

Daryl was already there, sitting on the edge of your shared sleeping bag, meticulously cleaning his crossbow. The soft glow of a lantern illuminated his features, highlighting the rugged lines of his face and the intensity in his eyes.

He looked up as you entered, his expression softening. "Hey."

You offered a small smile, the weight of the day's events pressing on you. "Hey."

Setting aside his crossbow, Daryl reached out, his calloused hand gently cupping your cheek. "You okay?"

Leaning into his touch, you nodded. "Just... a lot on my mind."

He tugged you closer, guiding you to sit beside him. "Come here."

You settled into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. His arms encircled you, holding you securely, as if shielding you from the world's harsh realities.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in each other's presence. The sounds of the night—crickets chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze—created a serene backdrop to your intimate moment.

Breaking the silence, Daryl's voice was a low murmur. "You know, you're the strongest person I know."

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment. "Me?"

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yeah. The way you stand up to people, the way you handle everything... It's..."

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you ducked your head, embarrassed by the praise. "I just do what I have to."

Daryl's fingers gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "And you do it damn well."

A soft smile tugged at your lips. "I learned from the best."

He huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Nah, you were always like this. Fierce. Brave. Beautiful."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tightened your arms around him. "Only because I have you by my side."

Daryl's embrace tightened, his voice a husky whisper. "Ain't going anywhere."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and Daryl, wrapped in a cocoon of love and mutual respect. To everyone else, you were a firecracker—bold, unyielding, and fiercely independent. But with Daryl, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, to show the softness that lay beneath the surface.

As the night deepened, you both lay down, tangled in each other's arms. The warmth of his body against yours, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the soothing sound of his breathing lulled you into a state of tranquility.

Before sleep claimed you, you whispered into the darkness, "I love you, Daryl Dixon."

His lips brushed against your temple, his voice a tender murmur. "Love you too, more than you'll ever know."

And with that, you drifted into a peaceful slumber, safe in the arms of the man who saw past your fiery exterior to the heart that beat only for him.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[latanyalove]

Loves On Fire

Summary: Ace thinks that you're going to fall out of love with him because of how he travels a lot but you could never.

Song: Friends · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

The salt spray kissed your face as you stood on the docks of Dawn Island, the familiar scent bringing a bittersweet ache to your chest. The Striker, Ace's ship, loomed large and imposing before you, sails already unfurled, eager to catch the wind.

You watched him, Fire Fist Ace, Commander of the Second Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. He was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, his black hair tousled by the breeze, that familiar mischievous grin plastered on his face as he barked orders to his crew.

He moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a confidence that both thrilled and terrified you.

He caught your eye, and his entire demeanor softened. The boisterous commander vanished, replaced by the slightly awkward, endearingly clumsy man you knew. He waved, a wide, genuine smile splitting his face, and you returned it, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

He bounded towards you, his pace quickening with each step. “Hey, Y/N!" he greeted, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He smelled of smoke and adventure, a potent combination that always left you breathless.

“Ace,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You wanted to say so much more - I’ll miss you. Be safe. Come back to me. But the words caught in your throat.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his scarred hand. His touch was warm, grounding. "I won't be gone long, you know," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You forced a smile. "I know. Just...be careful."

He chuckled, a low, reassuring sound. "When am I ever not careful?" He winked, but you saw the flicker of something else in his eyes, a shadow of doubt you hadn't noticed before.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Hey, Y/N... You’re not… you’re not going to get tired of this, are you? Of me being gone all the time?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and laced with insecurity. It was the elephant in the room, the unspoken fear that had haunted your relationship since day one.

Ace, Fire Fist Ace, a man who commanded the respect of the entire Grand Line, was afraid of losing you.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. You understood his worry. His life was a constant whirlwind of missions, battles, and adventures.

He was rarely in one place for long, and your time together was always fleeting, snatched moments amidst the chaos. It was easy to see why he might think you’d grow tired of it, that you’d yearn for a more stable, predictable life.

But he was wrong. So wrong.

“Ace,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands. “Look at me.”

He did, his black eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Do you honestly think,” you continued, “that a few weeks, a few months, even a few years, could possibly diminish what I feel for you?”

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

You took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I love you, Ace. Not just the idea of you, not just the thrill of your adventures, but you. The man who burns with passion, the man who protects his crew, the goofy idiot who falls asleep in the middle of meals, the man who's scared of losing me even though he's the most fearless person I know."

You paused, letting your words sink in. "Your travels, your missions, they're a part of who you are. They're in your blood. I wouldn't want to change that, even if I could. And honestly," you added with a playful nudge, "who else is going to bring back the weird and wonderful souvenirs you always seem to find?"

A slow smile spread across his face, chasing away the shadows that had clouded his eyes.

"So, you're saying my collection of miniature sea king statues is a contributing factor to our unwavering love?"

You laughed, relieved to see him back to his old self. "It certainly helps." You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What I'm saying is that I love all of you, Ace. The part that stays here with me, and the part that sails the seas. The distance doesn't matter. The fact that I would follow you to the ends of the earth should explain my side more clearly."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything." He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "I just… I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You hugged him tighter, feeling his heart beating steadily against yours. “You won’t, Ace. I promise.”

He pulled back, his expression serious. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For understanding. For being you."

He paused, then a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. "But just so you know, those miniature sea king statues are collector's items. They'll be worth a fortune someday!"

You rolled your eyes, laughing again. "Of course they are. Only you, Ace."

The ship's bell chimed, signaling his departure. He laced his fingers through yours one last time. "I have to go," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

"I know," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He leaned down and kissed you, a deep, lingering kiss that promised a swift return. When he pulled away, his eyes were bright with determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said. "And I'll bring you something even better than a miniature sea king this time."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he turned and strode towards the Striker, his figure silhouetted against the rising sun. You watched him go, your heart aching with longing, but also filled with a quiet confidence.

As the ship pulled away from the docks, Ace stood at the helm, waving to you until you were just a speck in the distance. You raised your hand in response, a silent promise echoing in your heart.

The days that followed were long and filled with a quiet solitude. You threw yourself into your work, helping the villagers, tending to your garden, and spending time with your friends.

You wrote letters to Ace, pouring out your thoughts and feelings onto the page, knowing that he would treasure them when he finally received them.

You missed him terribly, of course. The evenings were especially hard, when the silence of your small cottage seemed to amplify the absence of his laughter, his touch, his very presence.

But you refused to let the loneliness consume you.

You knew that Ace was out there, fighting, exploring, living his life to the fullest. And you trusted him to come back to you, just as he had promised.

One evening, weeks later, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the island, you were sitting on your porch, reading a book. Suddenly, a familiar voice shattered the peaceful silence.

"Y/N!"

You looked up, your heart leaping in your chest. Standing before you, grinning from ear to ear, was Ace. He was tanned and windswept, his clothes slightly rumpled, but his eyes were shining with happiness.

"Ace!" you cried, jumping to your feet and running towards him.

He caught you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "I'm back!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy.

You laughed, tears streaming down your face. "I see that! I missed you so much!"

He set you down, his gaze searching yours. "I missed you too," he said, his voice soft. "More than you know."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "I told you I'd bring you something better than a miniature sea king," he said with a wink.

You opened the box, and gasped. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, was a single, perfect seashell. It was iridescent in the fading light, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I found it on a deserted island," Ace explained. "It reminded me of you. Strong, resilient, and full of inner beauty."

He took your hand, placing the seashell in your palm. "Keep it with you," he said. "As a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, my heart will always be with you."

You closed your hand around the shell, holding it tight. "Thank you, Ace," you said. "For everything."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "So," he said, his voice playful again. "What do you say we go inside, and I tell you all about my adventures?"

You looped your arm through his, and together, you walked towards the house, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and gold.

As you listened to Ace's stories, you knew, with absolute certainty, that your love was stronger than any distance, any challenge, any fear.

Ace thought you'd fall out of love with him because of his constant travels. He thought you'd grow tired of the uncertainty, the loneliness, the fleeting moments.

But he was wrong. He was so wrong. Because your love for him was a fire that burned brighter with each passing day, a flame that no amount of distance could ever extinguish. And you were ready to spend a lifetime showing him just how wrong he was.

You were ready to show him that some things, some loves, were simply meant to be. And yours, with Fire Fist Ace, was one of them. That shell, a precious gift from the grand line, stood as a testament to your love, a symbol of a bond that transcended the vast oceans and the perilous adventures.

It was a promise whispered on the wind, a reminder that even across the widest expanse, your hearts would forever remain intertwined. . . .

The raucous cheers still rang in your ears as you walked down the hallway, the scent of sake and grilled meat clinging to your clothes. The party was still going strong on the deck of the Moby Dick, the entire Whitebeard crew celebrating Ace's triumphant return.

A broad smile stretched across your face, mirroring the joy that bubbled within you. You had almost lost him. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the fear that had gnawed at you during his mission.

You pushed open the door to Ace's room, a space that had felt eerily empty during his absence. Now, with him lounging on the bed, his signature freckled face relaxed and content, the room felt like it was finally breathing again.

You had spent countless hours in here, curled up with a book, lost in thought, or simply waiting, hoping for his safe return.

"It's good to be back," Ace murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the small space. He stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his sweat-stained shirt. "Thanks for waiting for me."

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your foot. "Someone had to make sure your room didn't turn into a den of rats while you were gone."

He grinned. "And I appreciate it. You're the best, Y/N)"

The warmth of his words settled over you, a comforting blanket against the lingering chill of worry. "Glad to have you back, idiot. Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning towards the door, "I'm going to find you some clothes. You reek of gunpowder and sea salt, Ace."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a low drawl that sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. "Where do you think you're going?"

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "I told you, Ace. I wanted to get you some new clothes. You stink."

He smirked, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "What if I took them off?"

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant. You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.

You knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew you shouldn’t be caught up in it. Not yet, at least. But the pull was undeniable, the magnetic force between you almost unbearable.

"Ace," you began, attempting a scolding tone, but your voice wavered slightly. "There's still a party going on. People will notice if you're suddenly missing."

He tugged you closer, your back now pressed against the door. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, his scent a heady mix of smoke and something uniquely him.

"Let them wonder," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I've been away for too long. I need to... readjust."

Your gaze flickered to his lips, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes were locked on yours, a silent invitation to lose yourself in the moment.

You knew this game, and you knew you were losing.

He always had this effect on you, a potent blend of charm and raw desire that melted your resistance.

"Ace, stop," you breathed, but the words lacked conviction.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Make me," he whispered, and a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tangling in his raven hair. "You're impossible," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

"Only for you," he replied, his lips now tracing the curve of your jaw.

The dam finally broke. You surrendered to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, months even. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"God, I missed you," your voice was shaky.

Ace pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Missed you too, Y/N. More than you know."

You looked at him with a soft expression, the joy of his return still bubbling inside you. "Show me."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His lips crashed down on yours, a kiss that was both demanding and tender, a perfect reflection of the man you loved. You met him with equal fervor, your hands exploring the familiar contours of his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his worn shirt.

The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, bodies pressing together. The world outside the small cabin faded away, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a web of desire and relief.

He slowly broke the kiss, his breath ragged. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a passion that made your heart pound even harder. "I want you, Y/N," he said roughly, his voice thick with need.

You swallowed hard, your gaze unwavering. "I want you too, Ace," you breathed.

He wasted no time. His hands reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. You reciprocated, fumbling with the buttons of his own, eager to feel his skin against yours.

The room quickly became littered with discarded clothing, tangible evidence of the urgency that consumed you both.

The party continued to rage on the deck, oblivious to the intimate scene unfolding in Ace's cabin. The sounds of laughter and music were a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rasp of Ace's breath against your skin.

He lifted you onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a fire in their wake. You met his gaze, your eyes mirroring the desire that burned within him.

He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, and you lost yourself in the moment, in the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer, unadulterated joy of being in his arms again. . . .

[riboism]

haunted ═╬ act V: the fire

♱ content tags: centuries old vampire! seonghwa x fem reader, vampire au, gothic romance, gothic horror, story takes place circa early 1900s, reincarnation, smut, angst, forbidden love, slowburn, lots of yearning, no happy ending, blood, satanism, animal cruelty, nosferatu/bram stroker’s dracula/edward scissorhands vibes

♱ a/n: this took me way too long but here it is!!! we are nearing the end folks!! please leave feedback, I’m not sure who I’m posting this for anymore :(

♱ wordcount: 3.7k

↳ series masterlist

The first thing you felt when you came to was warmth. You could feel the heat of the crackling fire beside you, the warmth of the damp cloth that rested on your forehead grounding you as you fluttered your eyes open. You were weary from the sudden consciousness and your head throbbed, the flickering light of the flames doing little to clear the cloud in your mind. 

You tiled your head to the side, eyes wandering around until you realized you were laid over the large sofa in the grand living room. You felt his presence before you saw him, a dark, shadowy figure that loomed beside you, quiet, except for his soft breathing. 

He sat close, his gloved fingers adjusting the cloth on your forehead with a careful touch. His touch was featherlight, his face in the same neutral expression as usual, though his eyes were softer, filled with something reminiscent with concern. 

Your throat was dry, aching, and as if sensing your discomfort, he reached for the side table and poured fresh water into a glass. Without a word, he brought it to your lips, tilting it gently so you could drink.

“Slowly,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. 

You took a few small sips before pulling back. The cool water soothed the rawness in your throat, but it did little to ease the confusion swirling in your head.

Slowly, you sat up, pressing a hand to your throbbing temple. “What… what happened?”

The Count exhaled deeply, pulling back away from you. “I found you outside,” he said, his voice calm, too calm. “It looked like you were sleepwalking. You collapsed in the garden.”

Sleepwalking?

For a moment, you almost believed him. The idea of wandering aimlessly in the night, lost in a dream, was easier to accept than the alternative. But then, it all came rushing back to you.

The moonlit garden

The hunched figure.

The sharp teeth.

The blood.

You stirred where you sat, trying to make sense of it all. “No,” You gasped, gripping onto your chest. “No, that’s not what happened. I saw you…I saw you, but you were…” 

The Count remained seated, not flinching a muscle. 

You forced yourself to meet his dark pools. “I saw you,” you said, steadying your voice. “I saw what you did. You—” Your words faltered, a lump forming in your throat as you thought back to what you witnessed. “Your eyes… they weren’t human. You looked like an animal. You were—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. It didn’t make sense to you. He looked otherworldly, like a freak of nature, an evil storybook character come to life. But here, sitting beside you, he was himself, same as the day you first saw him. You knew what you saw was unexplainable, but it felt real. You knew it was real. It was not a dream. None of what you were experiencing was a dream. 

He drew back as if your words burned him, his expression growing darker. The tenderness in his face had vanished like a puff of smoke, replaced by something colder, something indifferent. 

“You should leave.” 

“What?” Your stomach dropped at the sudden shift. 

He stood, putting space between you. His shoulders tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. He then removed his gloves and pressed a thumb into his palm, massaging it, seemingly to calm himself. “I’ll give you your week’s pay, and extra for the fare back home. There’s a train departing at high noon. That should give you enough time to rest and pack your belongings.” 

You sat, dumbfounded. Why was he doing this? Why the sudden haste? He was hiding something, you knew it. You wanted to understand, and more importantly, you wanted him to know that you were the one person he could trust enough to confide in. Whatever it was, you could help him. 

Slowly, carefully, you reached out, your fingers wrapping around his hand. His skin was cold, so unnaturally cold, like marble, like a corpse. But still, you held on, trying to warm him with your touch. “Please, don’t push me away. Whatever it is that’s ailing you, I can help. You just have to help me understand.”

He was caught between holding on and pulling away. He looked at your joined hands in disbelief, his breath growing unsteady until he finally tore away from you, grasping his hand as if you had burned the skin. He retreated to the corner of the room with his back turned to you, raking a hand through his hair as he steadied his breath. 

“This is wrong,” he whispered as he shook his head, more to himself than to you. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want to be here.”

“Why? Why is this wrong?” You asked, your voice raising as you grew more desperate for answers. 

“Because I’m a monster.” There was an agony in his tone, a sound you weren’t familiar with. 

You stood up, balancing yourself on your bare feet. You took a slow but careful step forward, shortening the distance between you two. “You are no monster. You are ill. Please, just let me help you.” 

He exhaled, his head hanging low. “You aren’t understanding. It is wise for you to leave. You are not safe here,” He said, his voice tight. 

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice was steady, but anger and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. “I want answers. I saw you. I saw what you did. How is it possible that you—” You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “That you changed like that? That you—” Your stomach turned at the memory of his bright red beady eyes and ravenous, blood-dripping mouth. “That you fed like that?”

He remained silent. Your frustration burned hotter. You continued to push. “And what happened to you the other night? You looked like you were going to die, and now you act as if it never happened?” 

You could see the side of his jaw tightening up. You stepped closer, more determined now and unwilling to hold back. “Why do you only wander at night? Why is your skin so cold? Why don’t you eat? Why do the townspeople whisper about you like you’re some kind of curse?”

Still, nothing.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You had held your tongue for too long, ignored too many strange occurrences, let yourself believe too many convenient excuses. No more. No more would you be played like a fool, like a naive little girl. 

You remembered the documents sitting in your room, the marriages, the newspaper clipping, the odd dates. None of them provided any clarity, only created more questions. “What are you?” you asked, your voice trembling, “Where did you come from?” You took in a shaky breath, the pieces coming together, forming a picture you didn’t want to see but had to. “If you were eating that cat… then are you the one responsible for the cows?”

At the mention of the cows, he stiffened. His shoulders went rigid, and his hand instinctively rose to his sweaty temple, fingers pressing as if trying to ease himself. He was a wreck. 

You pressed on. “Why won’t you answer me?! What are you hiding?!” Your voice wavered, but you pushed past it. “Why do you—why do you torture me?” Your throat burned, your hands shaking at your sides. “Why do you haunt me in my dreams every night?”

You could feel the room swaying beneath you. In the blink of an eye, he was before you, his towering presence suffocatingly close. The suddenness sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as you stared up at him, his dark and stormy eyes burning into you. He was furious, like what you said had triggered him, forcing him to snap before you. 

“You foolish girl!” His voice boomed, shaking the walls, and sending a shock through your chest. “Don’t you understand? It is you who haunts me!”

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands clenched at his sides like he was trying desperately not to grab you. His gaze bore into you, filled with something so tormented, so devastatingly broken that it made the air get caught in your throat. 

Shock rooted you in place, your body trembling under his looming figure. He looked terrifying now, his teeth gritting like an animal ready to feast. Though difficult, you mustered up the courage to speak. “What are you saying?” 

The Count sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the sudden outburst exhausted him. He walked past you, settling into the chair by the dimly lit fireplace. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching slightly, before he dragged them through his dark hair. He stared into the flames, not daring to pass a glance back at you. 

“You want answers?” His voice was soft now, almost fragile, like he'd given up, too tired to keep up the charade. “Then sit and listen.”

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and lowering yourself onto the edge of the couch. Your pulse pounded in your chest as he finally spoke.

"A lifetime ago, I was a different man. Not a lonely Count in a long, dark cape, living in seclusion from the rest of the world. Just a man who once knew love."

He continued to stare into the fire, his eyes lost and distant.

"Her name was Sofia." His lips curled faintly, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “She was my everything."

He told you how he had met her in Italy, where he studied art under a renowned painter. Sofia was the painter’s daughter; a muse he had adored from afar, whom he sketched in secret. Until one day, she stumbled into his studio and saw his work.

“She should have been horrified,” he murmured. “To know that I had been watching her, painting her without her knowing. But she wasn’t. She… just smiled.” A soft, breathless chuckle escaped him, one tainted with grief. “She told me I had captured her perfectly. Her father was well known, one of the pioneers of Renaissance art. But I always thought she was his greatest creation.”

They entered into a passionate, all-consuming love affair. They had married quickly, too eager to be apart for even a second. They were happy, but no good thing lasts forever, he quickly learned.

“She grew ill. A plague swept through the town, and she—” His voice cracked, but he continued on. “She didn’t even last a year after the ceremony.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. You saw his shoulders tense as he recalled the agony of watching her wither away, slipping through his fingers like sand.

“I couldn't live without her. I wouldn’t.” His voice hardened. “I sought out every cure, every remedy, every godforsaken prayer. But nothing could bring her back to me. Nothing, except—” He swallowed thickly. "The dark arts."

You shivered at the mention of dark magic. Although you didn’t believe in such things, you were reminded of your mother and her fear of the dark arts, often sending you to school with herbs and talismans to protect you. You’d always take them off, hiding them in your schoolbag before entering the classroom, to embarrassed to explain to your friends of your mother’s strange beliefs. 

The Count cleared his throat. “I knew it was forbidden. I knew it was unnatural. But I didn’t care.” His voice took on a bitter edge. “I sacrificed everything; my soul, my humanity, just to have her back. And then one day…she did come back. But, she was…different.” He furrowed his brows. “She wasn’t Sofia anymore. She was Ha-Rin. Her body was different, her face unfamiliar. But it was her. I knew it in my bones.”

Despite her new form, his love for her never wavered. They lived together in the very castle you now called home, and for a time, he was happy.

“But happiness never lasts, does it?” He smiled weakly.

The changes came slowly. "I started to… shift.” He hesitated. “I stopped walking in the sun. I felt weak beneath it. I craved strange things…first, it was rotting crops, then crows, then… then all I could think about was her blood.”

He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memories. “I tried to hide it from her. But she knew something was wrong. She was relentless, urging me to seek help, to tell her what was wrong. She didn’t understand.”

His voice was thick with self-loathing. “I should have told her the truth. I should have let her go. But I was selfish. I stole her from the grave, and I clung to her like a coward.”

His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. “The closer she got, the more I craved her. She was my wife. My love. And yet—” His voice trembled. “I was hungry for her.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as he continued.

“One night, she came to me.” His breathing grew unsteady. “She asked why I wouldn’t lay with her anymore. Why I shied away from her touch. She thought I no longer loved her.”

He laughed then, but it was hollow, aching. “She undressed before me. Her body was so warm. Each time she touched me, I craved her more and more, until I—”

He choked on his words. “I devoured her.” His voice strangled with grief. “Like an animal.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, bracing yourself.

“But she didn’t scream.” His brows knitted together, his eyes unfocused as if he were back in that moment. “She held me. Smiled at me. She told me she loved me. That it was going to be okay.” A single tear slipped down his cheek as he remembered feasting over her lifeless body. “And then, she was gone.”

The fire crackled in the silence between you. Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might burst. You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but listen to his tortuous tale. 

"A century passed, and she returned to me."

You straightened your back. Alya. 

“She was Alya then.” His lips trembled. “She lived a full life with me. I tried my hardest to keep her safe. And then, she grew old.” His voice softened into a whisper. “Her mind deteriorated. She forgot me. Thought I was her son, her caretaker.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. "One night, she wandered into the kitchen. She wasn’t supposed to be there alone. I was asleep. The sun was up—I couldn't save her.”

He rubbed his knuckles to soothe himself from the painful memory. “She started a fire. And that was the end of her.”

A long silence stretched between you both as you soaked everything in. The things you found in those files were impossible, but his words proved them to be true. 

"And now…" He turned to you, "Here you are."

Your heart froze for a moment as his eyes met yours. "You always come back to me," he murmured. "Like a ghost, set on tormenting me."

Your lips trembled. "How do you know I’m them?” You asked, though you were certain he was correct. You couldn’t describe it, but those dreams, those paintings, this house, it all stirred something in you, and you felt a connection with him, with Ha-Rin, with Alya, with Sofia. 

"The moment I saw you, I knew that you were my Sofia." His eyes softened as he gazed over you. "I promised I wouldn’t touch you. I told myself I’d let you live this life naturally, without me. I was foolish to let you stay. I told myself I would fire you, but…"

"But?"

"But I couldn’t help myself." His voice cracked. "I wanted you near. I’ve been alone for so long, it was unbearable. I visited you in your dreams, because it was the only way to love you without hurting you." He paused as you took it all in, a deep shame settling within him. "The more you stayed, the hungrier I became." He shut his eyes tightly. "So I fed. I killed livestock. Anything to keep myself from hurting you."

You stared at him, unable to move, unable to breathe. Finally, he met your gaze again, his expression heavy with pain.

"I am made of pure evil, Y/N " he whispered. "And you must run before I make another mistake."

His words alone should have sent you fleeing. It would have ignited fear into anyone’s heart. But instead, you sat there, unmoving. Despite everything, despite the horror of his confession, despite his warnings, despite that fact that your fate would end if you stayed by his side, you felt no urgency to leave him.

He looked so drained, more exhausted than you had ever seen him. The weight of centuries of pain and loneliness seemed to bear down on him, his normally poised frame now slumped with defeat. It tugged at something deep inside you, an aching, a longing. You wanted to hold him, to cradle him in your arms and whisper that he wasn’t alone anymore. To soothe him as he had once soothed you in lives you were only beginning to remember.

The urge to protect him overwhelmed you. He was so much more fragile than he appeared, his strength merely a shield for the broken man beneath. Right now, he looked small, lost, like a wounded animal too tired to keep fighting. How agonizing it must have been, to endure endless years of solitude, to have your heart torn apart and stitched back together, only to be shattered once more.

He was far from evil. His sharp fangs, his darkness, they didn’t frighten you. Because beyond all of that, all you saw was a man drowning in sorrow, clinging to the ghosts of his past. You pitied him. You couldn’t walk away. Not now. Not ever. Leaving him would be the cruelest thing of all.

You rose to your feet, stepping toward him with slow steps. Your fingers brushed over the soft curve of his ear, tucking a long strand of his inky hair behind it before settling your palm over his cold cheek. His breathing grew shaky at your sudden touch, but this time, he made no effort to pull away.

“How could a man like you, one who has sacrificed so much, be evil?” you asked softly

Tears welled in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he looked as if he might give in, might rest his cheek against your hand, and let himself indulge in your warmth. But just as quickly, he fought it back, swallowing the impulse and locking it away behind that careful, lonely restraint.

“Y/N—”

“I will not leave.” Your said, determined. There was no hesitation, no doubt in your decision.

His eyes widened, his breath hitching slightly as he absorbed your words. After everything he had confessed, every monstrous truth he had laid bare, he had expected you to run. Yet here you were, standing before him, choosing him despite all odds.

“Why must you be so difficult?” he asked in a low whisper. 

Your expression softened, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Because I know what it feels like to be alone and misunderstood,” you admitted, your voice laced with unspoken pain as you rubbed your thumb across his cheek, swiping away a stray tear. 

His lips parted slightly, stunned into silence. Though undead, you swore you saw the faintest flush bloom beneath his porcelain skin, a whisper of color against his eternal pallor. 

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, a sudden fear taking over him. “But what if I hurt you again?”

“And what if you don’t?,” you asked simply. “What if we find a cure? A way to ease your suffering? Why must you be so pessimistic?” 

He exhaled. He had searched every book, plead to every priest that would lend him an ear, all in an attempt to find a way to reverse this curse he gave to himself, but nothing showed fruitful. His eyes scanned over your face as if searching for a reason to disprove you, to convince you to leave before it was too late. But the truth was, nothing he could say would change your mind. You were eternally drawn to him, and no matter what he did to separate himself from you, you would find a way back to him, in this life, or the next. 

“Don’t be foolish,” he whispered, reaching up to grab your wrists. “The longer you stay, the shorter your time here on this Earth will be.”

You stepped forward, placing yourself between his long, slender legs, the warmth of your body pressing against his own. His breath caught as your delicate fingers cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones with a tenderness that made him melt. You tilted his face up, your eyes searching his with longing devotion..

“Then let me spend whatever time I have left getting to know you,” you said softly before leaning in.

His entire body froze as your lips met his. His fingers twitched at his sides, fighting the overwhelming instinct to pull you in, to let himself drown in you. Your taste was intoxicating, sweeter than anything he had ever known, more dangerous than he could ever afford. It forced his unbeating heart to lurch in his chest as if for the first time in centuries, it remembered how to long.

He knew how dangerous this all was. He knew the price of surrendering to you. He had spent lifetimes fighting against this desire, against the inevitability of what would follow. He knew better than to not fall for false hope. But the feel of you, the way your lips fit so perfectly with his, shattered every piece of logic he clung to.

His mind screamed at him to let you go, to lock you away where his darkness could never reach you. But his body betrayed him. He finally surrendered, letting his hands find your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as he widened the space between his legs and pulled you closer. A quiet groan rumbled from deep within him as your lips parted and invited him into a world he had been too afraid to claim.

taglist: @a1sh1teruu@filmnings@professormingisglasses@felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna@yunyunrin-reads@seonghwasstar@innocygnet@oreoqueen

for taglist request or removal, please send me an ask

act VI: the sacrifice ➜

[weeping-seraphim1]

LOLOLOLOL peep my first attempt at a fanfiction

Against the howling winds of the Dark Cacao Kingdom’s Bitter Forest, there was little Pure Vanilla could do but sit and shiver in the dank cabin him and Dark Cacao Cookie had stumbled across. For three days they had trekked through the relentless snow. They had been in search of chocolate shoots— all of the ones within the kingdom had bloomed into bamboo sticks already.

Three days before, White Lily Cookie had fell victim to a chilling illness, and despite Pure Vanilla’s best efforts, it was clear that the bitter flavour was needed to bring her back to her senses. It had affected her mental state too, reducing her normally sharp self into a drowsy, drifting husk of a cookie. Though the symptoms plaguing her body had gone, her mind was still under it’s influence. The chocolate shoots’ bitterness, combined with Pure Vanilla’s healing skills would surely restore her to her true self.

Yet their plans had not come to fruition, and they remained in the snow.

Pure Vanilla had awoken in the dead of the night to Dark Cacao saying he was going to search for them again, that he couldn’t rest. Of course, he had insisted on Dark Cacao’s staying put, but ever the stubborn cookie, he had left, urging Pure Vanilla to rest and not await his return. Dark Cacao had rejected his offer to come along, saying that as the healer, he needed to be prioritised. He was already in objection to Pure Vanilla coming along, but had to comply.

Probably because he preferred his own company. Or disliked Pure Vanilla’s.

He winced and drive the thought away. He hated being self-deprecating.

So here he sat. Dark Cacao was out foraging in the bitter cold and he wasted away in some little cabin. He glanced around, at the flickering fireplace, the small bed meant to accommodate both of them and the threadbare rug.

Strangely enough, a sword sat across from him.

Not just any sword, he realised with a jolt. Dark Cacao’s sword.

Why would he leave it there? It was nothing like him to abandon it, even less in such an obscure location.

And with him too. Did he trust him that much? The thought felt. . . Strange. It made him feel better about staying behind, although it wasn’t much. He knew the other ancients trusted him, especially White Lily cookie, but for some reason, knowing the guarded, stoic Dark Cacao trusted him made him happy, he supposed. That was the only thing he could call the fluttering in his chest, right?

Or maybe he was overthinking the situation and Dark Cacao just forgot his sword. But, it was highly unlikely. That sword was an extension of his soul. Every stroke, every slash was his true essence sharpened into a material weapon. It made him especially admirable to Pure Vanilla.

His soul jam gleamed in the firelight, and it looked especially beautiful, brighter. Not that it was ever dull, but something about it now made him want to reach out and touch the smooth metal.

The way it thrummed with the power of the two sealed dragons, it’s allure was strong. Pure Vanilla so desperately wanted to touch it, but he felt it would be a desecration of Dark Cacao’s boundaries. Surely, he could just look at it closely? He wouldn’t mind as long as he didn’t touch it, right?

Pure Vanilla twitched the curtains, assuring Dark Cacao wasn’t nearing, and went to stand over it. It was an imposing thing, reaching his ribs. He had heard tales of how Dark Cacao Cookie had climbed the steepest of mountains, simply by digging his sword into it’s side and creating grooves, he had heard tales of Dark Cacao, and seen him, striking down a foe without a second thought.

The soul jam seemed to pulse, and the metal glinted. Maybe, if it was any other sword, being this close to the fire, it would have melted. But Dark Cacao’s sword was not subject to mere cookie elements. It looked strangely beautiful, and although it was a tool of war, it was somewhat tender. Perhaps it was strange he looked upon such a raw part of Dark Cacao, as though he watched him bathe.

Nevertheless, he knelt to look at the point resting in the carpet.

It was captivating. He was mesmerised, and though he restrained himself from brushing his fingers over it, he lifted his hands and let them hover over the swords’ hilt.
Exhaling heavily, Pure Vanilla closed his eyes and let himself slip into a daydream of what it would be like to touch it. In his mind, he felt the phantom of the cool metal, the warmth of the soul jam.

He stayed there for several minutes, wallowing in its comfort.

“You may touch it, if you wish.”

Pure Vanilla Cookie jumped, whipping around. Dark Cacao’s muscular frame leaned against the door. His cloak was still flecked with droplets of rain and flakes of snow. His hair was tousled. It had come loose, and cascaded down to his waist in waves of black broken by a streak of white.

“I didn’t- I didn’t hear you come in.”

A slight smile crossed his lips as he slipped off his cloak, letting it slide to the floor. “I intended for it to be that way. Does my sword intrigue you?”

Pure Vanilla stood up, feeling that his peace was jarred. Not to say he didn’t appreciate Dark Cacao’s presence though.

“I simply wanted to. . . see it, I suppose.” He stood up, edging away from the fireplace. “It’s beautiful,” he added hurriedly.

Dark Cacao tilted his head, studying Pure Vanilla. His eyes, his eyes, the way they glinted in the firelight like a sun-kissed amethyst, roved over him, squirming and blushing. Then, he strode across the room, grabbing his sword and turning to him.

He held it out to him. “Please.”

Pure Vanilla blinked, disoriented for a moment, then it dawned on him.

Dark Cacao Cookie, wants me, me to touch his sword?

He reached out and grasped the hilt, pulling it from Dark Cacao’s grip. It was heavy, so heavy he had to balance the point in the ground.

Just as he’d imagined, the sword felt alive. Swarming under the surface were the two dragons, fuelling the sword with raw power. It was cool against his normally warm hands. He pressed a finger against the Soul Jam embedded in the jagged cross-guard.

A soft groan escaped Dark Cacao. Pure Vanilla glanced up with a look of concern.

“Your fingers, upon my Soul Jam. Perhaps, your touch gracing my Soul Jam affects me.”

That was interesting.

“Or perhaps it is simply you.”

Pure Vanilla felt his face grow warm at that. A few moments of not quite awkward silence passed, while he traced each crook and groove.

“You wield it with such precision. It’s beautiful. Both the way you use it and you when you use it,” Pure Vanilla blurted. “I admire your swordsmanship.”

“Truly? Many have told me words such as those, yet they carry tenfold the weight they normally would coming from you. I thank you.” Dark Cacao Cookie, for a rare moment, seemed at a loss for words. Then he continued; “I feel you should know that I would be nothing without you.”

“What? Cacao-“

“I speak nothing but truth. My sword deals destruction, but cannot heal what has been broken. Your staff, however,” he said, gesturing towards its open eye, “holds a much more valuable trait. For centuries, I have stabbed and slashed, without a hint of reparation. It was inevitable that someone whose power opposes mine so deeply would become admirable to me.”

Pure Vanilla carefully laid Dark Cacao Cookie’s sword on the ground, and stepped forth. He pressed his staff into Dark Cacao’s cool hands.

“I cannot see without it, but your unwavering resolution tells me that you would be a worthy guide. If we were outside this cabin, I’m sure you could lead me through the snow, even if I didn’t have my staff.” He groped blindly in the air for Dark Cacao, until he felt his fingers interlock with his own.

“Yet they claim I am the poet,” Dark Cacao murmured.

Dark Cacao rubbed the stem of the staff in his hands, letting the vines intertwine with his free fingers. He thumbed the fragrant petals.

Pure Vanilla’s unseeing eyes stared blankly at him. They were captivating, one as blue and as clear as ice, and the other warm and invitingly yellow.

“It is surely a pity that your eyes remain closed all of the time. I find them to be quite beautiful,” he said, while tracing his finger along Pure Vanilla’s palm

Though he didn’t respond, a sharp intake of breath told Dark Cacao all he needed to know.

He gently pulled Pure Vanilla in, and rested his forehead against his. They breathed in tandem, and each time Dark Cacao rubbed a circle on Pure Vanilla’s palm, he felt his heart jump, though he stayed utterly still.
As for Dark Cacao, he silently prayed that this moment of rare tranquility would stretch into eternity, that he wouldn’t have to face any more tedious predicaments, that he could stay here with the one he loved.

Quite some time passed. Neither of them moved.

They both found they were very much at peace, embracing one another.

[rose24207]

Can I request prompt 14 and 15 for George Weasley and fem reader?

Not until you

Summary: At Hogwarts, George makes you realize that home isn’t a place—it’s being with him.

Genre: fluff

George Weasley x fem!reader

14. "I don't care what we do, as long as I'm with you." 15. "You make everything feel like home."

TW: None!

A/N: Helloooo! Sorry you had to wait :( but anyways it’s here!

Masterlist pt.2

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual for a Friday evening. Most students had ventured off to the Great Hall for an impromptu music night the Hufflepuffs had organized. You, however, had decided to stay back, too exhausted from the week’s classes to be social.

George Weasley had other plans.

He lounged beside you on the plush couch near the fire, his lanky frame stretched out as though he owned the place. His legs rested across the coffee table, and every so often, his knee would bump into yours. Not that you minded.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t want to go,” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “Fred’s probably making a fool of himself right now, and you’re missing it.”

George shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “If Fred’s making a fool of himself, someone’s bound to tell me all about it later. Besides,” he said, turning his head to meet your gaze, “I’d rather be here with you.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You’re not even going to pretend it’s because you’re tired or because the music was going to be bad?”

“Nah,” he said, his grin widening. “Why would I lie? I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the hem of your sweater. George always had this infuriating ability to make you flustered with just a few words.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed how much you liked hearing him say things like that.

“Ridiculously charming?” George offered, leaning slightly closer.

You rolled your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Weasley.”

“Dreaming about you? Always,” he quipped, his voice teasing but his eyes soft.

You shoved his shoulder lightly, but he caught your hand, holding it in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and the playful atmosphere between you shifted slightly.

“You know I’m serious, right?” he said, his tone quieter now.

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. George wasn’t usually like this—he was the jokester, the one who made everyone laugh and kept things light. But right now, there was something vulnerable in his expression that made your heart ache.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

George’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Good. Just making sure.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the crackling of the fire filling the space between you. You could hear faint laughter and chatter drifting in from the corridors, but it felt like the rest of the castle was a world away.

“You know,” you said after a while, “I always thought Hogwarts would feel like home eventually. But it never really did. Not until—”

You hesitated, your words catching in your throat.

“Not until what?” George prompted, his hand still holding yours.

You glanced at him, your heart pounding. “Not until you,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, George just stared at you, his brown eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, crooked smile spread across his face.

“You make everything feel like home too,” he said softly, his voice so earnest it made your breath catch.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting yourself bask in the warmth of his presence.

“Blimey,” George said after a moment, breaking the silence. “If I’d known you felt this way, I would’ve skipped all those prefect meetings ages ago to spend more time with you.”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “Don’t ruin the moment, George.”

“Never,” he said, a mock-serious expression on his face. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “This is one moment I’ll never forget.”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[xx-sketchy-xx]

Trick or treat!! Now hand over candy

Does this count? Also, YAYAYAYAYA, I love your characters @bunnyspine, CODY AND JONATHAN ARE SO -AAAAA/pos

I feel they would be a great little group to take naps together. Sleepy buddies. I guess such a scary world just effects them this way lol

Just in case you wanted “real” candy

[iheartbookbran]

this is the face of the you make when you realize the bloodiest civil war in westerosi history was started over a misunderstanding the writers made up in order to give one single character something to do over the seasons

[dullweapons]

mother of all tag dumps inbound ..... i am not booping people cause theres like 30 tags lol

here is the page on my google site that lists them all ... i think ? may have missed someone but ill double check later

⸻  SHIP  : ayrin / sahar  ❤︎  you know you hypnotize me always !   ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / grace ( hyliangrace )  ❤︎  you can be the match & i will be the fuse : boom   ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / lyric ( lunarscaled )  ❤︎  bleed into my mouth so i may taste you forever ; leviathan  ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / robin ( wolfvirago )  ❤︎  hold me in your arms & i die a little death so beautifully  ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / octavo ( bransles )  ❤︎  but he fell in love with the fever & i'm on my knees in a theater .  ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray & ayrin  / link ( uneasedregrets )  ❤︎  city of stars ; never shined so brightly  ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / volga ( volcania )  ❤︎  your blood like wine get me drunk & make me feel .   ˎˊ˗

⸻  SHIP  : ray / ghirahim ( flamboycnt )  ❤︎  let our love be a flame not an ember ! say it's me that you want to dismember !  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & link ( legacyshero )  ✦ no voice to speak of your suffering but i hear you now  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & nabooru ( gerudospiriit )  ✦ so if you need to be mean be mean to me . i can take it & put it inside me . ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & bussaba ( topaz-adorned )  ✦ you with the dark curls you with the watercolor eyes ! ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & gallilea ( vairuler )  ✦ im made of sugar spice kanekalon & cinnamon : me & my bestie are the sam like a synonym ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & toba ( askganondorftobadragmire )  ✦ you take away this pain from me : the memories that haunted me  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & nabooru ( gerudosage )  ✦ oh she could have been a poet or she could have been a fool . ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & miri ( somnium-led )  ✦ dear prudence won't you open your eyes ? look around … look around …  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & eilian ( somnium-led )  ✦ im sick of apologies from people with priorities that their life matters so much more than ours . ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & ganondorf ( oocca )  ✦ want to save your men from the fire ? show me that you’re willing to burn .  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & link ( twilitae )  ✦ what? land of the free? whoever told you that is your enemy .  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & link ( obraveyouth )  ✦ who’s a heretic child ? can you make it stick now ?  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & zelda ( spiritmaiden )  ✦ why do birds suddenly appear everytime you are near  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & zelda ( telepathyia )  ✦ the moon will sing a song for me : i loved you like the sun ! bore the shadow that you made  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & zelda ( regnantlight )  ✦  can you tell me what's the point in building empty empires now? ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ray & calamity ( hylianremnants )  ✦  i know you i walked with you once upon a nightmare  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ayrin & sky ( hylianremnants )  ✦  stories of old great adventure : i want to be just like you .  ˎˊ˗

⸻  RELATION  : ayrin & sun ( hylianremnants )  ✦  bright & beautiful : sing me another lullaby  ˎˊ˗

[invisibleoctopus]

starting to think im a bard of void instead of being a knowledge class. i have the whole bardic crisis thing (oct 13 2013. sunday) the whole opposite aspect thing before that (Gifted Kid TM where part of my personality was bring smart. is very lightcore) and just how i seem to destroy everything i touch.

my aversion to lying and how terrible i am at it because its on a physical level in my body and i have to script it in advance (yes this is mostly autism) and not liking to keep secrets and being a blabbermouth. destroying void.

destroyed by void. getting FADED with weed. self isolation and most of my time being spent gaming or on the computer/phone. my awful terrible recurring dreams (dreams are void) that i have a fucking tag for. but the horrors have become almost mundane with how repetitive they are in my dreams and thats why i dont call them nightmares

[burningcomputerpersona]

.....fml

[lcec0ldheart]

Concept scribble of Violet’s brother?

I don’t think I’ve told you guys yet, but Violet has a younger half brother -Haven’t gotten around to drawing him yet, but I think I have some kind of idea of what he looks like now. His name is Crimson (it would be funny to name him Scarlet but nah) and he’s…around 10? A chaotic, charimastic kid that’s too clever for his own good and sometimes is a bit crazy but that’s what makes him fun! He’s shy with new people but once he’s comfortable with you, better hope he’s not gonna drag you into all kinds of hijinks. He’s a bit emotional and does care what you think and likes attention, even if he doesn’t say it. Sweet kid that makes mistakes.

(update: give me a bit after class him to shade but here it is. wait why does he look like a girl-)

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

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