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rosie-posie1313 · 3 days ago

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Luke Hughes Fic Recs 2

06/27/2025

⭒ 𝐥𝐮𝐥𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 by @bbrissonn

luke hughes x zegras!reader

in which you and luke become a couple

⭒ insta official for the babies by @/bbrissonn

Zegras!reader

⭒ 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐭… by @/bbrissonn

⭒ what if i have big boobs and a small heart? by @ohmyeyesmyeyes

luke hughes x f!reader social media au

⭒ Addicted by @sc0tters

when Alex and Trevor decide to voice their feelings about you it causing Luke to reevaluate his own.

⭒ So long by @/sc0tters

Luke has always had a crush on Jacks best friend but when he’s called on to help her at a party he realises she feels the same way.

⭒ when the sun loved the moon. By @voicemailfromluke-beep

you never expected to fall for someone like luke hughes. he was tall, charming, a hockey prodigy and you were just… you. sweet, soft, unsure. but in the safety of a shared friend group, you found comfort beside him. until someone else saw that closeness as an opportunity, not to protect, but to use. at luke’s lake house, one moment of trust shatters the illusion you built. and when luke returns to find you gone, questions begin to unravel.

⭒ Jack’s Best Friend by @lvrhughes

You and Luke have always liked each other and Jack has always known, so he helps get you together

⭒ Skin by @eyesthatroll

a late night at home with luke

⭒ NEVER HAVE I EVER by @/eyesthatroll

two college kids trapped in a bathroom

⭒ THE HOODIE by @laceyhearts

she'd always thought she wasn't pretty enough for luke, but that all changes with an invitation to the hughes' lake house and luke's hoodie

⭒ One Little Slip by @stormsies

⭒ More Hearts Than Mine-The Aftermath by @withwritersblock

⭒ Catch My Breath by @/withwritersblock

Y/N overheard a comment about her appearance from another WAG and Luke tries to help her feel better

⭒ SNOOPY KISSED SOMEONE THAT WASN’T MOMMY? By @fiastomatocheek

it’s summer, and that means deep lucy-and-snoopy bonding time over dolls and fake tea parties… until you come back from folding laundry and witness something you never expected, lucy and luke’s very first fight.

⭒ STILL GOT YOU EVEN WITHOUT THE RING by fiastomatocheek

one thing luke never takes off is his ring, unless it’s to bathe lucy or play a game. so when you find it sitting, almost too carelessly, on the bathroom sink one night, something about it feels… weird. not bad. just weird. luke never misplaces things like that. but instead of asking about it, you pocket the ring and decide to have a little fun

⭒ THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON I’VE EVER LOVED by fiastomatocheek

dating luke has been a dream, until one overheard comment from someone in his circle chips away at your confidence. you try to brush it off, but it sticks. you start pulling back, shorter kisses, less eye contact, fewer sleepovers. luke feels it. he doesn’t understand why the warm, confident person he fell for has grown so quiet. until he finds out the truth.

⭒ SNOOPY’S BIGGEST FAN by fiastomatocheek

you and luke are cherishing life as parents to your lively three-year-old daughter, lucy. out of the blue, lucy’s switched from calling luke ‘dada’ to ‘snoopy,’ a nickname that’s leaving you both laughing and guessing at its origin. after a thrilling devils game, lucy’s determination to stick by her dad’s side leads to her tagging along for a post-game interview. her unexpected shout of ‘dada snoopy’ during the interview steals the spotlight, melting hearts and showcasing luke’s endlessly sweet fatherhood

⭒ THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON I’VE EVER LOVED by fiastomatocheek

⭒ Sleepy Boyfriend by @postgamevibes

⭒ hold me steady. By @voicemailfromluke-beep

after a big win on home ice, luke hughes shares a personal moment during the family skate, making a memory you’ll both never forget.

⭒ Party by @heartsforjh

Luke can be kind of introverted, but I just know he’d follow you wherever if you asked him. One of those places being… a party/hangout. Whether you asked him to tag along in an attempt to get him out of the house, or you asked him to go with for moral support—he’d be there.

⭒ Sunsets in the Summer by @bratbarzal

⭒ Baby, It’s You. by @lilhughesy

You are the sports media intern for the UMich hockey team which is so great because your best friend, Ethan Edwards, plays for the team. However, his friend and your arch nemesis is also on the team and his name is Luke Hughes. He gets the most joy by pestering you without realizing the effects it had on you.

⭒ TikTok soft launch by @postgamevibes

When a casual TikTok study break video accidentally features Luke Hughes in the background, the internet goes wild trying to guess the identity of the mystery girl. As fan attention grows, Luke and the reader navigate the challenges of keeping their relationship low-key while savoring quiet moments together. A soft, sweet reveal that proves some love stories are worth sharing slowly and on their own terms.

⭒ "You're so cute when you get angry." by @captain-huggy-bear

⭒ STANCE, BREATHE, SWING by @wineauntie

⭒ ALL EYES ON YOU by @mattrempeswife

after luke hard-launched you to the hockey world during the stadium series family skate. now, it’s playoff time and you’re standing in the eye of the storm wearing his jacket, sitting with his family, and watching your boyfriend shine under the biggest lights of his career. luke’s proud to show you off to the world, but more than that, he’s just proud to be loved by you.

⭒ FOR EVERYONE TO SEE by mattrempeswife

after years of keeping your relationship private, luke is ready to show the world who holds his heart. when he invites you to join him at the stadium series family skate, you’re terrified of the spotlight but luke promises to keep you grounded. one public moment. one gentle push. one hand to hold, for everyone to see.

⭒ THE DARE THAT BROKE ME by mattrempeswife

you’ve never been the girl anyone really looked at, not the girl people wanted to be friends with, not the girl boys lined up to date. especially not someone like luke hughes. but when the golden boy of hockey asks you out, it feels too good to be true.

⭒ A LITTLE LOUDER NOW by mattrempeswife

as a world-touring singer and as luke longtime girlfriend, you’ve always had the support of your fans and luke, the new jersey devils’ hockey star. during your loud, sold-out concert stop in new jersey, you finally reveal the secret you and Luke have been keeping for months. between laughter, tears, and a double surprise, it’s a night no one will ever forget.

⭒ EVEN WHEN YOU THINK I’M SLEEPING by mattrempeswife

after a long, rough day on the ice and the weight of expectations heavy on his shoulders, luke comes home feeling like he’s failing his team, his family, and himself. but in the quiet of the night, your soft whispers and gentle reassurances wrap around him like the warmest hug, even when you think he’s asleep.

⭒ Saved by @hughes-your-daddy

a night out with a few of your bothers teammates turns sour

⭒ Retrospections by @sweetdispatch

Memories of moments between you and Luke, from helping in school to his first NHL game

⭒ Laundry by @/sweetdispatch

A bet with your friend helped you to admit your feelings to Luke but he doesn't know about it

⭒ Giving me everything by @fangirlmermaid

⭒ I know love by @hockeyluvrr

Luke Hughes has always been your best friend—until one summer at the lake house changes everything. One almost-kiss, one broken moment, and suddenly, there’s a distance between you that even time can’t fix. But when Luke starts his first NHL season, fate gives you one last chance to get it right. Will you finally close the space between you, or are some love stories meant to stay unfinished?

⭒ Hollow by @bluewxrld07

Y/N thought she mattered to Luke in more ways than one. Yet that all changes when he makes a choice that has her feeling betrayal and heartbreak.

⭒ Luke seeing you in the wag jacket by @star2fishmeg

⭒ he loves being a provider for his girl by @/star2fishmeg

⭒ Surprise by @stereoqueen

⭒ Trends by @/stereoqueen

⭒ Sunshine by @honeyslibrary

⭒ I’m The Problem by @bluewxrld07

Luke isn't the happiest camper post his shoulder surgery, and he feels at a loss at the fact he needs help doing almost everything. His best friend Y/N has been there every step of the way, but takes a step back after Luke get overstimulated

⭒ MOTHER KNOWS BEST by @isaadore

luke brings flowers to mother’s day dinner, and your mom tells you to marry him.

⭒ Umich!Luke Hughes x tennis player!reader by @notsonian

you and Luke are enjoying time together during a slow time of the year

⭒ Five signs that you’re falling in love with your best friend by @lovings4turn

⭒ Desperate by @leaentries

luke’s girl has never had someone go down on her and he’d be damned if he didn’t change that

⭒ Spring break pt3 by @delayed-affection

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #fic recs #hockey fic recs

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bigblueworld · 2 days ago

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introducing... paleontologist!rafe

let's start at square one--(physical)

height: 6’3, which isn’t an overly intimidating height, makes his crew members a tad jealous, he’s always able to grab things off higher shelves in the labs. at dig sites his height is a GREAT advantage. he has a longer reach which allows him to reach higher fossil beds, can help scan terrain easier due to how tall he is, and he always volunteers to carry gear for his crew members.

build: 200lbs, lean build. not overly muscular. big biceps and shoulders due to tool usage when it comes to digging. biceps big enough to sink your teeth into. he’s always trying to carry the big fossils, or climb up on the rocks to survey the area.

age: mid twenties, but he has an old soul. acts like a child in some instances. many have told him he looks younger than he actually is. always makes sure he looks clean cut before the day, but always ends up looking dirty after, unless he’s in the lab.

clothes + accessories: his glasses, which you made fun of when you first met. always wears them no matter where you guys are. and his centipede necklace which he never takes off, its his prized possession. he adores button ups, and cargo shorts and pants. suits aren’t really his thing but he’ll wear them.

personality

intelligent: he knows every fact about a dinosaur or any type of prehistoric plant or animal. has done years of research on the terrain, always reads and watches documentaries cause why not. you can never fully know everything. went to the top school for paleontology when he was in college.

nerdy: always tells you random facts or if you decide you wanna ask he’ll go on a long spiel about what it is you asked about. his eyes always light up when he talks about the fossils he found and the history behind anything that has to do with prehistoric life.

cocky/confident: when you first met you thought he was just like every other rich college kid who decides they wanna be on a boat just for the hell of it. you thought that he thought was better than you but it was just him being confident in his abilities when it came to the things he was doing with his work. he knows what he’s talking about.

committed: stays up extremely late to research and run tests. always studies and tries to learn new things about these creatures who once roamed the earth every day. he’s always pouring over notes or sketches or lab reports just to find something new.

daring: always willing to push the limit when it comes to searching for fossils or searching out a new area. he usually gets chastised for climbing without proper equipment or walking off without anyone with him..he’s just curious is all.

likes+dislikes

LOVES the jurassic park + jurassic world movies and goes on and on about them

has a german shorthaired pointer puppy named strata which refers to fossil beds and the layers within them

strongly dislikes people who disrespect museums when it comes to the fossil exhibits, or those who make fun of people who actually find fossils and prehistoric life interesting

loves going out on long hikes anywhere and everywhere. he loves to travel, he’s not too fond of boats and the ocean. he’s travels frequently due to his job. loves going to asia and south america specifically.

loves fossils. period, the end.

when you decide to sit down and watch a documentary with him. or when you allow him to tell you about all that he’s learned.

loves finding new fossils or new discoveries that aids in learning that he believes is extremely important. wether it is a claw or a tooth, or if him and his team are able to excavate an entire bone structure. but he loves going back to tell you about it.

character specific hcs!!

pet names for you: minnow, skipper, sunshine, babydoll, darling

he will sometimes help you when you’re staying on the boat with your catches, but will grimace and gag every time

he loves to read his books to you about prehistoric life and watch his movies with you, but when you come back after a long day out on the water he’ll wrap you up and let you melt into him

sometimes bores you with his endless facts and knowledge when it comes to stuff you don’t know nor understand but you listen anyways cause you love him. he will sit and read with you all the time.

#rafe obx #obx headcanon #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #female!mc #paleontologist!rafe #rafe headcanons #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey

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stlllle · 1 day ago

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Squid game Season 2 as parents ---headcanons(part 2)

Characters:

Nam-gyu (124)

Min-su (125)

Recruiter (Ddakji man)

Hwang Jun-ho (the cop)

Total word count: Around 7,000 words(part 1 and 2)

Note: This is my personal interpretation of the characters based on the show + some headcanon freedom! Not official canon.

Requests: If you like this and want me to write for other characters or scenarios, my requests are open! Feel free to ask💌

Masterlist –[link]

Nam-gyu//Player 124

Nam-gyu as a dad is…

a mix of silence, fear, and love he doesn’t know how to handle.

He’s not the kind of dad who showers you with affection all day long…

He’ll mess up.

He’ll distance himself sometimes.

Disappear for a late-night smoke…

But he’ll always come back.

Always.

His problem was never not loving enough…

It’s loving too much… so much it terrifies him.

---

Dynamic with you (the reader):

You’re the thread keeping him grounded.

The reason he still tries to be a better person.

When you told him you were pregnant…

He froze.

Like… actually froze.

Staring at nothing… barely breathing.

It took him days to process…

But when he finally accepted it…

He hugged you like his life depended on it.

He’s scared.

Scared of not being enough.

Scared of failing the kid.

Scared of passing down his trauma.

But he tries.

Every single day.

---

Nam-gyu with a newborn:

Super clumsy at first.

His hands shake while holding the baby.

He’s like:

“Are they breathing okay? Am I holding them right? Are you sure?”

But the cutest part?

He’ll sit there for hours… just staring at the baby…

Trying to memorize every single detail.

He’s the dad lying awake at night…

Baby on his chest…

Listening to sad music… eyes watery.

And yeah… he cries.

In secret.

When no one’s looking.

---

Nam-gyu with a toddler (2-5 years old):

He’s the quiet dad…

Pretends he doesn’t know how to play…

But you’ll catch him on the floor… building Legos in complete silence… with the tiniest soft smile.

Struggles to say “I love you” out loud…

But shows it in little ways:

Making breakfast

Walking the kid to school on rainy days (umbrella for the kid, gets soaked himself)

Leaving sticky notes like: “Eat properly.” / “Cover up, it’s cold.”

When the kid gets sick?

He panics.

Stays up all night…

Dark circles under his eyes…

Watching over them like a hawk.

---

Nam-gyu and the trauma:

He carries so much weight.

Comes from abandonment… pain… loss.

Many nights…

He sits on the floor…

Head in his hands…

Asking himself:

“Can I really do this? Do I deserve this?”

But the way the kid runs to hug him…

Smiles when he gets home…

Calls him “daddy” with so much love…

That’s what keeps him going.

---

His soft side (that he’ll never admit):

Learns to braid hair (if it’s a girl) just to see them happy

Sings softly at bedtime (with that low, broken voice of his)

Keeps every single drawing the kid makes

Looks at old baby photos late at night

Whispers “I love you” when the kid’s already asleep… just so they won’t hear

---

Summary of Nam-gyu as a dad:

Quiet

Traumatized

Insecure

Cares way more than he shows

Loves silently

Lives in constant fear of messing up… but never gives up

A broken man… but fights like hell for his kid

The true definition of “soft, sad boy who just wanted to get it right” 😭

------------------------------------------------------

Park Min‑su//Player 125

Min-su as a dad is a “shy, anxious, insecure man terrified of messing up, but who loves with every bit of his heart—even if he doesn’t know how to show it.”

He’s the kind of man who, despite the fear, pushes himself to be enough for his family.

---

Dynamic with you (the reader):

You’re his emotional anchor.

He lives in his head, wondering if he’s protecting you and the kid enough.

When you told him you were pregnant… he froze.

Looked at you wide‑eyed, not sure if he should laugh or cry.

After a moment, he whispered:

“I… I’m going to try to be strong for you both.”

He spent the whole pregnancy reading every article, watching every video… just so he wouldn’t fail.

---

Min‑su with a newborn:

He holds the baby so gingerly it’s almost obsessive.

Every breath, every stir—you see him monitoring it all.

If the baby stirs at night?

Lights up and checks immediately:

“Are they okay? Breathing right?”

He logs diaper changes, feeding times… always a head above the fear of missing something.

---

Min‑su with a toddler (2‑5 years old):

He’s still watching over you obsessively.

Asks questions at school-call nights.

Checks lunches like a hawk.

If the kid falls, he freezes in panic, then scoops them up gently like they’re made of glass.

Words are hard for him—“I love you” isn’t often said, but:

He slips notes in the lunchbox: “Eat well, stay warm.”

Buys that toy they mentioned even if it’s a stretch financially.

He wants to show love but fears he won’t be enough.

---

Min‑su and the trauma:

His cowardice rides on real fear—not cruelty.

He hides behind insecurity.

But when the kid calls “Daddy” in that soft voice…

He almost disappears on the inside.

Stands still, but his heart breaks open.

When he slips up, he punishes himself for days…

You remind him:

“It’s okay. You’re doing your best. I see you.”

He breaks down quietly…and then tries again.

---

Soft and real moments:

Lunchbox codes: “Daddy loves you,” in tiny writing

Trying to learn to fly a kite, even if he has no clue

Falling asleep to the baby’s breathing—afraid to miss it

A nickname just for you two—like “my sunshine”

---

Summary of Min‑su as a dad:

Shy, insecure

Overthinker with endless care

Loves deeply, even if quietly

Needs reassurance

Does everything with true affection

A real, vulnerable dad who fails but never stops trying

------------------------------------------------------

Hwang Jun-ho

Jun-ho is the kind of dad who seems like he can handle the whole world, but really just wants to keep his world (his family) safe and whole.

He’s not much for words, but every gesture speaks louder than any speech.

---

Dynamic with you (the reader):

You’re his safe harbor, the calm in the storm.

When he found out you were having a kid, he got tense but decided he’d be the best dad ever — even if he had to learn on the way.

He’s overprotective, sometimes too much, and gets defensive when anything threatens you.

---

Jun-ho with a newborn:

He melts when caring for the baby.

Spends hours just watching, paying attention to every move.

Not very talkative but never misses a chance to cuddle and comfort the baby.

Always awake during the nights, checking if everything’s okay.

---

Jun-ho with a toddler (2-5 years old):

Teaches simple but important stuff — like riding a bike, caring for friends, and respecting rules.

He’s always there, watching closely, ready to protect and help.

A serious guy but the kid knows he can always count on him.

---

Jun-ho’s emotional side:

He carries a huge burden, like it’s his job to protect the whole world.

Sometimes it weighs on him, and he shuts down.

But with family, he opens up — quietly and shyly.

---

Jun-ho’s soft side:

Makes playlists to help the kid sleep

Cooks, even if he’s bad at it, just to see their smile

Radiates calm, even in chaos

Has a hug that can fix anything

---

Summary of Jun-ho as a dad:

Strong and protective

Reserved and serious

Extremely dedicated

Has a giant heart hidden behind the badge

A dad who would do anything for his family’s happiness

------------------------------------------------------

Recruiter//Ddakji Man

This man…

Literal definition of mystery + commercial smile + buried trauma + emotional manipulation + unresolved loneliness.

Him as a dad?

A guy trying so hard to hide feelings… but absolutely weak every time the kid smiles at him.

---

Dynamic with you (the reader):

At first… he pretended he was chill.

All that “emotional control”, “being a responsible adult”, “nothing shakes me” attitude.

But inside?

A full mental breakdown.

When you told him you were pregnant?

He froze.

Literally stared at the wall like recalculating his whole life.

Took him a few days…

Then showed up with that awkward smile:

“Let’s… do our best.”

(And you know… when he says that… he’s lowkey dying inside.)

---

Recruiter with a newborn:

King of pretending to be stoic…

But melts when holding the baby.

Pretends he’s not emotional… but you catch him staring at the baby sleeping with this dumb soft smile.

He’s the dad who:

Makes the baby sleep on his chest

Sings old songs softly

Panics every time the baby sneezes

If anyone tries to touch the baby?

That smile disappears instantly… replaced with pure murder eyes.

---

Recruiter with a toddler (2-5 years old):

The kid becomes a mini-him.

Walking around with tiny hands in pockets… trying to look all serious… then bursting into giggles.

Teaches them logic games…

Takes them on “strategic” outings (like aquariums and museums).

If the kid cries?

He panics… but masks it:

“It’s fine… everything’s under control… come here.”

(Then hugs them tight… smelling like expensive woodsy cologne.)

---

His secret fear:

That one day…

The kid will see his darker side.

Know the things he’s done.

Realize he’s not the hero he pretends to be.

So he tries extra hard to be present…

Even with guilt clawing at his chest.

---

His soft, hidden side:

Sleeps with the kid on his chest

Still keeps their first baby outfit

Always takes photos… never posts any

Plays with their hair while they sleep

Has that “God, I love this kid so much it physically hurts” expression almost daily

---

Summary of Recruiter as a dad:

Quiet

Overprotective

Way softer than he lets on

Guilt-ridden

Emotionally repressed

But loves with everything he’s got… and would do anything for that child

#gi hun squid game #min su x reader #min su squid game #squid game headcanons #jun ho x reader #jun ho squid game #tumblr fanfiction #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader

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leycorice · 2 days ago

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i found peace in your violence

mercenary!caleb x president's son!zayne // abduction // 4k words

caleb received a job to kidnap the president's son for a whopping 10 million dollars.

(inspired by nectaerine's road trip fic!)

it all started when caleb was in his house.

empty. cold. quiet in a way that felt like a permanent condition rather than a passing state. the lights were off, the curtains drawn. dust floated lazily in the slivers of gray morning light that slipped through the windows. boxes lined the hallway, stacked in uneven towers, some half-opened, others still sealed shut with tape that had begun to peel at the corners.

if someone walked in, they wouldn’t be able to tell whether he had just moved in or was getting ready to leave.

the truth was, he’d done neither.

caleb sat slouched on the edge of the old leather sofa—one of the few pieces of furniture not still wrapped in plastic. he leaned back against the armrest, eyes half-lidded, an untouched apple in hand as he lazily tossed it up and caught it again, over and over. his dog tag shifted with each movement, the metal chain catching the dim light.

it was the only thing from his military days he hadn’t packed away.

the only thing he couldn’t.

it held too much. too many memories. most of them painful.

a soft voice filled the air, crackling through the static of an old, dusty speaker on the shelf. a radio broadcast—one from years ago—played in a loop. it had long since lost its novelty. the tape clicked, rewound itself, and started again every hour like clockwork. he didn’t even remember when he started playing it.

he could recite it word for word by now.

it was the same channel he and yuu used to listen to. the late-night stories. the space documentaries. the call-in shows that always made them laugh. he could still hear her voice sometimes, just in memory—bright, amused, mocking him when he got the quiz answers wrong.

but she wasn’t here anymore.

and the silence between broadcasts only made that fact louder.

caleb closed his eyes and let the apple drop onto his stomach. he lay still, counting the seconds between loops.

how long had it been since his last job? a few months, maybe more. not that time really mattered anymore. he didn't keep track unless it involved bullets or blood or a contract deadline.

he should sleep. but he already knew that wouldn’t help. not without the pills.

people sometimes asked why he did what he did—mercenary work, the kind that most would rather not know about. he could never give them an honest answer.

it wasn’t about the money. never really was.

it was about the silence.

the emptiness.

the jobs kept his hands busy and his mind elsewhere. they gave him reasons to move. to breathe. to not think about the grave two cities away or the memory of warm hands that used to tug at his jacket when he came home from school.

bad thoughts. dark ones.

and the more dangerous the job, the better it worked.

then his phone rang.

a sharp, mechanical buzz against the stillness. caleb didn’t move at first. just stared at the ceiling, as if the plaster would somehow give him an answer. it rang again. then again.

finally, he reached over, grabbing the device off the side table. one glance at the screen: boss.

he let it ring a few more seconds before answering with a flat, uninterested, “yeah.”

there was a pause on the other end, then a voice—calm, deliberate. “got something new. high profile. high payout. you’ll want this one.”

caleb’s eyes slid shut again. he rested the phone against his ear, letting the silence drag just a little longer.

“who.”

“zayne li.”

a beat.

“the president’s son.”

caleb sat up. the apple rolled off his chest and hit the floor with a soft thud.

now that was a distraction.

caleb raised an eyebrow, voice flat. “how big?”

“eight figures.”

that made him pause.

he sat up fully now, phone pressed tighter to his ear. “big numbers for one man,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “who wants him?”

a pause on the other end.

caleb could hear the hesitation, the way his boss sucked in a slow breath through his teeth. that meant trouble. or worse—politics.

“i wasn’t supposed to tell you,” his boss said finally, then gave a low chuckle, amused by his own recklessness. “but hell, if you're gonna be in this deep, you should know. it's sylus qin.”

caleb’s fingers clenched around the phone.

“the hell does he want with the president’s son?” he asked, already suspecting the answer would piss him off.

sylus qin—head of the onychinus cartel. a name that carried weight in every black market and backchannel worldwide. ruthless, calculating, always playing a longer game than the rest. caleb had only heard of him through whispers and scars left on people dumb enough to cross him.

“he didn’t say,” his boss replied. “just that he needs the boy alive and unharmed. said he’s ‘important’—whatever that means. you know how these bastards operate. could be political leverage. could be personal. could be something a hell of a lot worse.”

caleb ran a thumb along the chain of his dog tag, brow furrowed. alive. unharmed. important.

that narrowed it down.

but not by much.

“i’m not a babysitter.”

“good thing you won’t have to be,” his boss replied. “just get him out of linkon, across the hemisphere, and deliver him to a secure site in the south chain. after that? you're out. easiest payday of your life.”

caleb didn’t answer right away. he looked around the empty room—the shadows stretching long across the hardwood floor, the unopened boxes collecting dust, the static hum of the radio looping again.

another job. another chance to disappear for a while.

he rubbed the back of his neck.

“…what kind of security does this guy have?”

his boss gave a low whistle. “top-level. presidential-grade. you’ll have to move clean, silent, and fast. no blood. no attention.”

caleb snorted. “you’re asking for a goddamn miracle.”

“no,” his boss replied. “i’m asking you. and last i checked, you pull off things no one else touches.”

the silence stretched between them.

caleb finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. the apple on the floor rolled slightly with the movement, hitting the leg of the table with a dull knock.

he didn’t care why qin wanted the president’s son.

but if this job could buy him another few months of not thinking, not remembering, not dreaming...

he was in.

“i’ll need a full intel packet. access maps. entry points. patterns. everything.”

“it’s already being sent to your inbox.”

the call ended.

caleb sat in the quiet for a moment longer, then stood and went to the kitchen, grabbing his duffel bag from under the counter. the zipper screeched as he opened it, revealing neatly packed tools, weapons, ids, and clothes—always ready. he never really unpacked it.

he stared at it for a second.

zayne li, huh?

what kind of man does it take to be worth eight figures?

he guessed he was about to find out.

-----

the intel came in fast, clean, and thorough—presidential-level surveillance rarely left gaps. caleb scrolled through the encrypted files on his cracked tablet, the glow from the screen casting sharp light across his features in the darkened room.

zayne’s face stared back at him.

the president’s only son. clean-cut, sharp-eyed, and always dressed like he was one breath away from stepping behind a podium. cold, precise, polished. a walking pr dream.

his routine was exactly what caleb expected: suffocatingly structured. guards at every checkpoint. biometric doors. convoy vehicles rotated twice a week. all known associates monitored, every staff background-checked and scrubbed.

there wasn’t even a moment for the guy to get a coffee on his own, let alone take a breath in the open.

“well,” caleb muttered, “that makes things fun.”

but the payoff—eight figures—made it worth it. and the drop site was as far from linkon city as a man could get. a place called n109 zone.l, buried deep in a non-aligned sector—one of those borderless dead zones too unstable for any government to claim. lawless, off-grid, the perfect place for dirty deals to be done cleanly.

he had his itinerary mapped out to the hour. vehicles ready across multiple checkpoints. air travel options scrubbed and tagged. safehouses in three countries. backup routes, fallback plans, clean identities. and if all else failed? a long, cold trek through the mountains.

plan b to z. all he needed now was a crack.

just one.

and then, it came.

a blip in the pattern. a movement that wasn’t scheduled. no convoy. no guards. no formal log.

zayne had slipped away from his own protection detail.

alone.

caleb leaned in, heart pacing just a little faster.

the timestamp was close to midnight. the location? akso hospital.

no cameras caught him leaving the compound. no communication trail. but facial recognition from a street cam three blocks down pinged the id.

zayne had gone off-book.

probably work, caleb figured. rumors said he was some kind of cardiac surgeon before his father dragged him into politics. still worked odd cases at night. no press. no escort.

so he likes to sneak out, caleb thought. that’s your breathing space.

he opened his gear bag and started checking items off.

suppressed sidearm. disguise materials. portable jammer. anaesthetic injection pen—nonlethal. zayne had to arrive alive. that was the deal. caleb didn’t like that part, but it wasn’t negotiable.

this was the only shot he’d get for a clean extraction without igniting a war zone.

he tugged on a dark jacket, adjusted his gloves, then picked up the tablet again.

zayne was in akso now. inside. unprotected. a sitting duck.

surely everything would go fine.

...right?

caleb slid a comms piece into his ear, cracked his neck, and disappeared into the night.

----

it was past midnight when zayne slipped through the back entrance of akso hospital.

he didn’t bother signing in. he never did. the night staff knew better than to ask questions when he showed up without notice, in a coat far too nice for these hallways and glasses that reflected the harsh overhead lights.

his footsteps echoed quietly down the corridor as he walked past empty patient rooms and locked supply closets. the faint scent of antiseptic clung to the walls. it never bothered him. if anything, it calmed him.

here, he wasn’t the president’s son.

he wasn’t the carefully crafted public figure they paraded on talk shows and charity events.

here, he was dr. zayne li, chief cardiac surgeon. a title he earned, not inherited.

he rounded the corner into the neonatal ward. the only light came from monitors blinking soft blues and greens. machines beeped steadily in rhythm with tiny, fragile heartbeats.

zayne exhaled through his nose.

he wasn’t here to work. not technically. he just... couldn’t sleep. again. his usual nightmares had clawed him awake earlier—vague, formless things, always ending with his father’s voice and yvonne’s death.

so he came here, like he often did. to remind himself of something steady. something that made sense. he always told himself this would be the last time, that next time he’d follow protocol, let the staff handle it, take the damn sleeping pills—

but he didn’t. he never did.

he moved to the observation room, glancing through the glass. inside, a nurse adjusted the incubator of a newborn with a rare heart defect—one he’d operated on just days before.

alive. stable.

that was enough.

he turned away and pulled a wrapped lollipop from his coat pocket—pear-flavored, his favorite. unwrapped it, popped it into his mouth. the sugar helped with the headaches. or at least gave him something else to focus on.

outside these walls, his schedule was rigid to the minute. bodyguards. advisors. security detail. a car waiting before he even finished his meetings. he wasn’t allowed to sneeze without someone logging it in a report.

but here? just a few hours in the dark, sterile calm of akso.

a small, borrowed freedom.

he leaned back against the wall, one hand in his coat pocket, letting the silence settle.

and then—he felt it.

a sound that didn’t belong.

too soft for a nurse’s footsteps. too heavy for the building’s usual creaks. a shift in the air—like someone was watching him.

zayne’s hand brushed the inside of his coat. his fingers wrapped around the slim stun baton he kept hidden there, the one no one knew about.

he straightened, eyes narrowing.

something wasn’t right.

he was supposed to be alone.

the hallway just beyond the neonatal wing was dim, lit only by a few flickering wall sconces that hadn't been fixed in weeks. zayne turned the corner slowly, keeping one hand in his coat pocket, fingers still curled around the hidden baton. his steps were light, careful.

it was probably nothing.

just a nurse dropping something. a janitor on the wrong shift. maybe even a trick of his overtired mind.

but then he heard it again. a faint, scratchy noise ahead—like claws scraping lightly across linoleum.

he paused.

and then he saw it.

at the far end of the hallway, illuminated by a dying overhead light, something small was moving on the floor.

zayne’s brows knit together. he took a few cautious steps forward. it looked like... a squirrel?

it twitched, just slightly, and he caught a glimpse of what looked like brown fur and a tail. must’ve come in through one of the service entrances. he let out a slow breath, lips tugging into the faintest smile.

“really?” he murmured to himself.

he knelt down, the cold tile biting through the fabric of his slacks. reaching forward slowly, carefully—he didn’t want to startle it.

but something was off.

the creature wasn’t moving anymore. still. too still.

and then he saw the stitching.

it wasn’t a squirrel. not even an animal.

it was a stuffed toy. some kind of plush squirrel with button eyes and threadbare fur, purposefully scuffed to look worn.

zayne’s eyes narrowed, and for a split second, the chill in his spine outweighed the warmth of curiosity.

wait—

before the thought could fully form, a shadow shifted behind him. silent. fast.

too fast.

a gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

another arm hooked tightly around his chest, pulling him backward with force.

zayne struggled, but only for a second—before a sharp chemical scent hit his nostrils.

chloroform.

panic surged. his baton was still in his coat, just inches from his hand—but he couldn’t move. the pressure behind him was unrelenting. his vision blurred, breath caught halfway between inhale and scream. his muscles jerked in protest, but they were already weakening.

shit.

he reached up blindly, fingers scraping against the edge of a jacket, a shoulder, anything he could grab—until the world tilted sideways.

the hallway stretched into dark shapes.

the doll on the floor was the last thing he saw before the light above flickered out completely.

then, everything went black.

-----

a few moments went by—though it felt like hours.

zayne’s head throbbed, thick and heavy, as though it had been packed with cotton. his eyelids fluttered, but refused to lift. every limb felt weighed down, leaden and slow to respond. even moving a single finger felt like dragging it through wet cement.

but his mind? his mind was already sprinting.

stupid. idiotic. careless.

his own voice berated him from inside. he should’ve known better. he did know better. the moment he’d seen that doll, he should’ve turned around, called someone, raised hell. not crouched down like a curious idiot in the middle of a dark hospital hallway.

his father's voice echoed in his mind, sharp and cold. "just because nothing has happened, doesn’t mean it won’t."

he could still see his father standing by the window of his office, arms behind his back, lecturing him without looking.

"you don’t leave alone. ever."

and look where that had gotten him.

zayne’s jaw clenched. or at least he tried to clench it—something was keeping his mouth shut. a gag. he realized it when he tried to speak and couldn’t.

his fingers twitched again. leather? his fingertips brushed something smooth, worn. a seat.

he was in a car. moving.

the low, rhythmic thrum of tires on asphalt filtered in through the muffled world around him. then—bang. a loud, metallic thud. another jolt.

zayne’s body slammed against the side of the seat as the car swerved hard to the left. his shoulder hit something—metal frame, maybe the door.

“shit!” a voice barked from the front. deep, irritated, masculine.

there was urgency in the tone. not panic—more like someone frustrated that things weren’t going according to plan.

zayne grunted, his instincts kicking in.

he ran through escape training in his mind like he was flipping through flashcards. childhood drills in underground facilities. what to do when tied. when gagged. when in a moving vehicle.

his body wasn't ready, but he kicked anyway—weakly, a reflex more than anything else. the side of his foot hit the door. again. harder this time.

it made a dull thump, not loud enough to break anything, but enough to be noticed.

“what are you—hey, stop it!” the voice snapped.

a hand reached back and gripped his leg tightly, pressing it down. zayne groaned, breathing harsh through his nose, heart starting to pound now with more clarity than his limbs could match.

whoever it was didn’t hit him. didn’t scream. just held him in place, firm and unyielding.

zayne took that in. logged it. controlled. not sloppy.

definitely not some random thug.

which made this worse.

he couldn’t see anything yet, but he didn’t need to. whoever had him knew exactly what they were doing. he felt it in the way the restraints were fastened—tight, secure, nothing amateur. the kind of restraint meant for long transport.

zayne closed his eyes again, only for a moment.

he’d survive this.

he had to.

but whoever this guy was...

they’d regret not drugging him a little longer.

zayne’s breath was ragged now, no longer sluggish from the drug. his limbs were waking up, nerves buzzing like live wires under his skin. the longer he moved, the more sensation came flooding back—heavy, uncoordinated, but usable.

he started kicking again, harder this time. his legs thrashed, boots slamming into the door, the seat, whatever he could reach. the narrow space in the car didn’t stop him—adrenaline had taken over.

“i said stop!” the driver barked. his voice was sharp, laced with frustration and something else—panic?

“i’m trying not to get us both killed!”

the car swerved violently, tires screeching as it cut across a narrow street and narrowly missed another vehicle that came out of nowhere. the horn blared. caleb cursed under his breath.

but zayne didn’t register any of it.

all he could think about was get out. get out of the car, out of the restraint, out of this nightmare. he braced his shoulder against the backrest, waited for the next sharp turn—and there it was.

as the car veered again, the force jolted them both.

caleb’s hand slipped.

zayne threw his weight sideways, using the momentum to slam his body full-force against the door. with a sharp click, it swung open.

“fucking hell—!” caleb lunged halfway out of his seat, one hand still on the wheel, the other snatching at zayne’s collar.

zayne was halfway out now, torso dangling into open air, wind slamming into his face. below him, the asphalt sped by in a blur of black and flickering orange streetlights. all it would take was a twist, a shove, a roll—

he could get out. he would get out.

pain was a small price to pay for freedom.

the grip on his collar strained. zayne kicked again, trying to loosen it, even as caleb cursed and pulled.

“are you crazy?!” caleb snapped, still trying to drive with one hand, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “get back inside—!”

yeah, right, zayne thought through clenched teeth, like i’d listen to you.

but then—

crack!

a gunshot. sharp. deafening. close.

too close.

the sound punched through the chaos like a knife. zayne froze.

a hole tore through the car’s rear window, glass shattering behind his head.

he didn’t feel pain.

but that shot had been inches from hitting him.

for a moment, his thoughts stopped.

wait. that wasn't him.

then another shot rang out—this one clipping the edge of the trunk. zayne felt the vibrations roll through the frame.

“they’re trying to kill you, for fuck’s sake!” caleb snarled, his voice rising with urgency now, not at zayne, but at the chaos outside.

before zayne could react, caleb yanked him back inside with a rough pull, dragging him like dead weight into the seat. with one quick motion, caleb reached across and pulled the seatbelt hard, looping it once, then again, securing it tight around zayne’s chest and waist.

more like a restraint than a safety measure.

“there,” caleb snapped. “now you’re not flying out of the damn car or getting your head blown off.”

zayne stared at him, chest heaving, still processing the shots, the road, the hands that had saved him and tied him down in the same breath.

outside, headlights flared.

another shot cracked the side mirror.

zayne blinked, slowly turning his head toward caleb.

his voice was still muffled behind the gag, but his eyes said what he couldn’t.

what the hell is going on?

caleb didn’t look back. eyes locked on the road, jaw tight.

“i’m the guy who was supposed to kidnap you,” he muttered. “but they’re the ones who want you dead.”

----

right. so, let's recap a bit. for caleb's sanity, especially.

back at the hospital, things had gone off without a hitch.

zayne had dropped like a stone the moment the cloth covered his mouth. caleb caught him before he hit the floor, eased him down quietly, and checked his pulse. stable. light breathing. still warm. unconscious but not in distress.

the perfect snatch.

no cameras had picked them up on exit—he’d already mapped the blind spots in akso’s security grid days ago. and the guards? lazy. underpaid. none of them noticed as caleb carried the president’s son out the side entrance in a maintenance uniform and tossed him in the backseat of a nondescript black sedan with untraceable plates.

simple. silent. clean.

he got behind the wheel, checked the mirror. zayne was slumped in the back, gagged and securely tied—wrists, ankles, torso. he even double-checked the knots. man wasn’t going anywhere.

for a moment, caleb allowed himself to believe it was going to go smooth. the kind of job he could finish in under 24 hours, get paid, and vanish off the grid again.

but of course, it didn’t last.

it was about twelve minutes out from akso—right as they hit a quiet stretch of service road along the river—when he spotted the tail.

first, it was just a car. dark. common-looking.

could’ve been anyone.

then two more appeared. one on the opposite lane. another merging quietly in behind them. all matching speeds.

not escorts. not police. and definitely not part of the agreed route.

caleb narrowed his eyes.

zayne’s security detail always rolled in matte-armored suvs, clean lines, government decals, full lights, and comms on. these cars weren’t that. they were sleeker. unmarked. coordinated in movement. too precise.

then came the first signal.

a window rolled down.

and a muzzle appeared.

shit.

the first bullet tore through the air, slamming into the rear of his car, just left of the taillight.

they weren't here to follow.

they were here to kill.

caleb swore loudly, slammed the gas, and veered hard onto a side road, tires screeching across the pavement. the engine growled under him, fighting for speed. he gritted his teeth and adjusted the rearview mirror.

zayne was still out. slack-jawed, head bouncing gently with each sharp turn. oblivious.

it should’ve helped.

but caleb’s mind was already racing through scenarios—none of them good.

the job had been clear: abduct zayne li and deliver him alive and unharmed to a drop site halfway across the world.

no mention of hostile third parties.

no mention of a damn hit squad.

who the hell were these people?

and more importantly—why the hell were they trying to kill the president’s son?

this was not part of the deal.

now, caleb wasn’t just a kidnapper.

he was also the only thing keeping zayne from getting his head blown off.

fantastic, he thought bitterly. this is why i charge extra.

he threw the wheel left, cut across an intersection, and felt the car’s frame strain under the sharp turn. bullets cracked the air behind him, a few pinging off the rear panel.

and somewhere in the backseat, zayne groaned.

waking up.

of course.

“just what i need,” caleb muttered, eyes darting between the road, the mirror, and the steadily rousing hostage in his backseat.

----

it took caleb another hour of weaving through off-map service roads and ditching the trackers before he finally lost their tail. the black cars had stopped following—either because they'd lost interest, or more likely, because they'd lost sight of him altogether. caleb had driven with the lights off for fifteen minutes straight, ducking into backcountry routes no sane person used after dark.

by the time he pulled into the outskirts of a forgotten highway rest stop, the sky had already deepened to pitch. a few flickering signs buzzed overhead, casting pale light over cracked pavement and faded lines. there were no other cars in the lot. just a beat-up vending machine, a long-closed diner with broken blinds, and a row of public restrooms that looked like they hadn’t seen a cleaner in years.

perfect.

caleb exhaled slowly and killed the engine.

the silence in the car was thick.

zayne hadn’t said a word since caleb had yanked him back from falling out of the moving vehicle. no more struggling. no more kicking. no eye contact.

just stillness.

too still.

caleb glanced into the rearview mirror.

zayne sat slouched in the backseat, strapped down by the jury-rigged seatbelt harness, head turned to the side as if staring at the door. his hands were still bound in his lap. the gag was slightly loose now—likely from all the struggling earlier—but zayne hadn’t even tried to spit it out or call for help.

suspiciously cooperative.

caleb narrowed his eyes.

“don’t even think about it,” he said over his shoulder.

zayne didn’t respond. didn’t even flinch.

just kept staring at the window like he could bore his way through the glass.

great, caleb thought. now he’s brooding.

still, caleb was too damn tired to play mind games. his shoulders ached from the hours of tension. his arms were stiff from the way he’d gripped the wheel. his stomach growled loud enough for zayne to probably hear it.

they needed to rest. and they needed to switch vehicles—preferably before whoever had tried to turn zayne into a corpse caught back up.

caleb cracked the door open and stretched, cold air biting at his skin. he walked around to the trunk, opened it quietly, and began pulling out supplies: burner phone, alternate id, clean change of clothes, and a second duffel with cash and new plates.

behind him, the car remained quiet.

he didn’t like that.

caleb opened the back door and leaned in, eyes narrowing at zayne. “here’s what’s gonna happen,” he said, tone low. “i’m going inside. i’ll bring back food and maybe take off that gag if you promise not to start screaming like an idiot.”

no response. just that unreadable stare.

caleb huffed, then muttered, “fine. sit there and be moody.”

he slammed the door gently—not out of spite, but caution. sound traveled too easily at night.

still, as he walked away, a tiny part of his brain wouldn’t stop watching the reflection in the car window. watching for movement. waiting for zayne to suddenly shift, twist, break something.

he didn’t.

but caleb wasn’t convinced.

inside the rest stop, under buzzing fluorescent lights and the scent of decades-old coffee and instant ramen, he grabbed the cheapest meal combo he could stomach and rented one of the old bunk rooms in the back for cash. no name. no questions.

he needed a meal.

he needed sleep.

and, whether he liked it or not, he needed to figure out what to do with the president’s son—who, at this point, seemed a little too calm for someone who just narrowly avoided getting murdered.

he's planning something, caleb thought again as he walked back toward the car.

he just didn’t know what.

not yet.

#lads #applesnow #snowapple #caleb x zayne #zayne is the president's son #and caleb is a hired mercenary #that fic changed my whole life #i love the author #old wip

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musubi05 · 8 hours ago

Text

╰┈➤ We'll Never Leave

Sam Winchester x half sister!reader

Dean Winchester x half sister!reader

Summary: After losing the final family members you've known at 17, you found out that you had two half brothers. Everything was going smoothly - or at least that's what Sam and Dean thought before they found out you're not sleeping.

Notes/warnings: this was a request from @apalanchen/abandonment anxiety, grief, brief mentions of last trauma, sleep deprivation

The lights of the gas station convenience store buzzed overhead as Dean grabbed another energy drink from the cooler, his green eyes scanning the label with practiced efficiency. Three weeks. Three weeks since he and Sam had gotten that call from Child Protective Services, three weeks since they'd learned about the existence of their seventeen-year-old half-sister, and three weeks since their world had been turned completely upside down.

"Dean, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that caffeine," Sam's voice carried from the next aisle over, accompanied by the rustle of snack packages.

"Says the guy who drinks enough coffee to fuel a small aircraft," Dean shot back, but there was no real bite to his words. His mind was elsewhere, focused on you currently sitting in the Impala's backseat, staring out the window with those hauntingly familiar eyes—their father's eyes.

The memory of that first meeting still felt surreal. A sterile office, fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the social worker's tired face as she explained the situation. Their father had apparently had a brief relationship seventeen years ago, and when both of your guardians—your mother and grandmother—had died in a car accident, a DNA test had revealed John Winchester as your biological father. With John dead and no other family to speak of, Sam and Dean were your closest living relatives.

Dean's jaw had clenched at the news, not out of anger toward you, but at their father. Another secret, another life John had touched and abandoned. But when they'd first seen you—small, guarded, clutching a worn duffel bag that contained everything you owned—Dean's protective instincts had kicked in immediately. You were family. That was all that mattered.

"You getting anything else?" Sam appeared at his elbow, arms full of granola bars and trail mix, his long hair falling into his eyes as he studied Dean's face with that analytical expression he'd perfected over the years.

"Just thinking," Dean muttered, grabbing a bag of your favorite chips—something he'd noticed during their first grocery run together when you'd lingered in front of them but hadn't asked for anything.

“About Y/n?"

Dean nodded, his throat tightening slightly. "She's been… different lately. Quieter. More tired."

Sam's expression grew concerned, his eyebrows drawing together in that way that made him look older than his years. “I've noticed it too. She barely touched dinner last night, and this morning she looked like she hadn't slept at all.”

They'd both noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way you'd started jumping at sudden noises, how you'd begun hovering near them constantly as if afraid they might disappear. At first, they'd thought it was the adjustment period nerves—after all, your entire life had been uprooted. But it was getting worse, not better.

Dean paid for their items, his mind racing as they walked back to the Impala. You were exactly where they'd left you, curled up in the backseat with your earbuds in, but Dean could see you watching them in the reflection of the window. Always watching, always alert.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean said softly as he slid into the driver's seat, catching your eyes in the rearview mirror. "We got your chips."

A small smile flickered across your face, but it didnt reach your eyes. "Thanks."

The word was barely above a whisper, and Deans chest tightened. When they'd first brought you home to the bunker, you'd been shy but curious, asking careful questions about their lives, their work, the strange underground fortress they called home. Now you seemed to be withdrawing into yourself more each day.

Sam twisted in the passenger seat to face you, his expression gentle. "How are you feeling? You seemed pretty tired this morning."

You straightened slightly, and Dean caught the way your hands fidgeted with the sleeves of your oversized flannel—one of Sam's old shirts that had somehow migrated to your wardrobe. "I'm fine. Just… adjusting."

The lie was obvious, but neither brother pushed. They'd learned quickly that direct confrontation made you shut down completely. Instead, Dean started the engine, the familiar rumble of the Impala filling the silence.

"We're about an hour out from the bunker," he announced, pulling out of the parking lot. "You hungry? There's that diner you liked about twenty minutes down the road."

In the mirror, he saw you shake your head. "I'm not really hungry."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. You'd been eating less and less lately, picking at your food and claiming you weren't hungry. It was starting to become a real concern.

The drive passed in relative silence, broken only by the low hum of classic rock from the radio and the occasional comment about the passing scenery. Dean found himself checking the mirror more frequently than necessary, noting the way your eyelids kept drooping only to snap open again whenever you started to doze off.

When they finally pulled into the bunker's garage, you were fully awake again, that hypervigilant expression back on your face. Dean killed the engine and turned to face you properly.

"Y/n, you sure you're okay? You've seemed pretty wiped out lately."

For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across your features—fear, maybe, or longing—but it was gone so quickly Dean almost thought he’d imagined it.

"I'm fine," you repeated, already unbuckling your seatbelt. "Just tired."

You were out of the car before either brother could respond, grabbing your small backpack and heading for the entrance to the bunker. Dean watched you go, noting the slight tremble in your hands as you punched in the door code they’d taught you.

Yes. After you moved in they put a code on the door in addition of the old key.

"She's not fine," Sam said quietly once you were out of earshot.

"No kidding." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "But every time we try to talk to her about it, she clams up."

"Maybe we're coming on too strong. She's been through a lot of trauma—losing her mom and grandmother, finding out about us, moving in with two strangers who happen to be her half-brothers. It's a lot to process."

Dean knew Sam was right, but the knowledge didn't make watching you struggle any easier. They made their way inside, finding you already in the kitchen attempting to make a sandwich with shaking hands.

"Here, let me help," Sam offered gently, moving to stand beside you.

You jerked away from him slightly, then seemed to catch yourself. "Sorry, I've got it."

But Dean could see the way you were swaying on your feet, exhaustion evident in every line of your body. Without thinking, he moved to your other side, steadying you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"When's the last time you got a full night’s sleep?" he asked directly.

Your whole body went rigid under his touch. "I sleep fine."

"Y/n." Sam's voice was patient but firm. "You look like you haven't slept in days. And don't say you're fine—we can see that you're not."

For a long moment, you stared down at the half-assembled sandwich in your hands, your breathing shallow and quick. Dean could practically see your internal struggle, the war between wanting to trust them and whatever fear was holding you back.

"I just…" you started, then stopped, biting your lower lip hard enough to leave marks. "It's stupid."

"Nothing you're feeling is stupid," Dean said firmly, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Talk to us."

You were quiet for so long that Dean began to think you wouldn't answer. Then, in a voice so small he had to strain to hear it, you whispered, "What if you change your minds?"

"About what?" Sam asked gently.

"About me. About wanting me here." The words came out in a rush, like you needed to get them out before you lost your nerve. "What if you wake up one day and decide this was a mistake? What if you realize you don't want a kid sister messing up your lives? What if you just… leave?"

Dean felt his heart crack clean in half. The hand on your shoulder tightened protectively as he processed your words, understanding flooding through him like ice water.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping?" Sam’s voice was thick with emotion. "Because you're afraid we'll leave while you're asleep?"

Your silence was answer enough. Dean could see the tears you were fighting to hold back, the way your whole body was trembling with exhaustion and fear.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. "Y/n, look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, you raised your eyes to meet his in the reflection of the kitchen window. What he saw there nearly broke him—raw vulnerability, bone-deep fear, and underneath it all, a desperate hope that you were trying so hard to protect.

"We're not going anywhere," he said firmly, turning you gently so you were facing him properly. "Do you hear me? We're not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

"But what if—"

"No what-ifs," Sam interrupted, moving to your other side so you were bracketed between them. "Y/n, you're our family. You're our sister. That's not something that changes based on convenience or circumstances."

"But you didn't even know I existed a month ago," you whispered, fresh tears spilling over despite your efforts to contain them. "And your lives were fine without me. You had your routine, your work, each other. You don't need some random kid complicating everything."

Dean felt anger flash through him—not at you, but at every adult who had ever failed you, every situation that had taught you that love was conditional and family was temporary.

"Hey," he said firmly, waiting until you met his eyes again. "First of all, you're not some random kid. You're John Winchester's daughter, which makes you a Winchester. And Winchesters? We stick together. We take care of each other. That's what we do."

"Second," Sam added, his voice gentle but unwavering, "our lives weren't fine without you. They were just… incomplete. We didn't know what we were missing until we found you."

You stared at them both, disbelief and hope warring in your expression. "Really?"

"Really," Dean confirmed. "Y/n I know this is scary. I know you've lost people before, and I know trusting us feels like a huge risk. But I need you to understand something—Sam and I, we've been through hell and back together. Literally. And the one thing that's kept us going through all of it is family. And now you're part of that family."

"The most important part," Sam added softly. "Because you chose to trust us, to give us a chance to be your brothers. And that means everything to us."

The tears were flowing freely now, and Dean could see the exact moment your carefully constructed walls began to crumble. You swayed on your feet, the exhaustion finally overwhelming your adrenaline.

"I'm so tired," you whispered, the confession seeming to cost you everything.

"I know, sweetheart," Dean murmured, pulling you into a careful hug. You stiffened for just a moment before melting against him, your small frame shaking with exhaustion and relief. "When's the last time you actually slept? And I mean really slept, not just dozed off for an hour here and there."

"I don't remember," you admitted against his chest. "Maybe… maybe four days ago? For a couple hours?"

Sam made a pained sound behind you. "Y/n, that's not sustainable. You're going to make yourself sick."

"I tried," you said desperately, pulling back to look between them both. "I wanted to sleep, but every time I started to drift off, I'd panic. What if I woke up and you were gone? What if you left a note saying you’d changed your minds? What if I was alone again?"

Dean's throat felt tight with emotion. He'd been on his own plenty of times, knew the terror of abandonment intimately, but he'd never been seventeen and completely alone in the world. The idea of you lying awake night after night, paralyzed by fear, made him want to punch something.

"Okay," he said decisively. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to get some sleep—real sleep—and Sam and I are going to stay right here with you until you wake up."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, we do," Sam interrupted gently. "Y/n, you're exhausted. You can barely stand up. Your body needs rest, and your mind needs to know that we're not going anywhere."

You looked between them uncertainly. "But what about your work? Don't you have a case or something?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait. You're the priority right now."

"But—"

"No buts," Dean said firmly. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get you to bed."

He kept one arm around your shoulders as they made their way through the bunker to your room—a space they'd tried to make as comfortable and welcoming as possible with soft lighting, warm blankets, and a few personal items they'd helped you pick out during a shopping trip. You moved like you were walking through water, exhaustion weighing down every step.

Sam was already pulling back the covers when they reached your bed, his movements gentle and careful. "Do you need anything? Water? Something more to eat?"

You shook your head, settling on the edge of your bed with a shaky sigh. "Just… you're really going to stay?"

"We're really going to stay," Dean confirmed, pulling the chair from your desk over to sit beside the bed. "I'll be right here. Sam will be here too."

Sam nodded, settling into the small armchair in the corner of your room. "We're not going anywhere, Y/n. I promise."

You crawled under the covers slowly, like you were afraid the movement might break the spell. Once you were settled, you looked up at them both with those familiar green eyes, so much like Dean’s own.

"What if I have nightmares?" you asked quietly.

"Then we'll be here when you wake up," Dean said simply. "We'll remind you that you're safe, that you're not alone, and we'll stay until you can fall back asleep."

For the first time in weeks, you looked like you might actually believe them. Your eyelids were already growing heavy, the simple act of lying down enough to start pulling you under after days of fighting sleep.

"Dean?" you whispered just as he thought you'd drifted off.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Thank you. For… for staying. For not thinking I'm crazy or needy or—"

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You're not crazy. You're not needy. You're seventeen years old and you've been through more trauma than most adults could handle. Wanting reassurance that the people who are supposed to take care of you aren't going to abandon you? That’s not crazy. That's human."

You were quiet for a moment, processing his words. "I love you guys," you whispered finally, the admission barely audible. "I know it's probably too soon to say that, and I know we barely know each other, but—"

"We love you too," Sam said softly from his corner. "More than you know."

Dean felt his chest tighten with emotion. "Sam's right. You're stuck with us now, kiddo. Whether you like it or not."

A small smile flickered across your face, the first genuine one he’d seen from you in days. "I like it," you murmured, your eyes finally sliding closed. "I really like it."

Within minutes, your breathing had evened out into the deep, steady rhythm of actual sleep. Dean leaned back in his chair, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he watched you finally get the rest you so desperately needed.

"She really thought we were going to leave her," Sam said quietly, his voice heavy with disbelief and sadness.

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. "Can you blame her? Think about her life—everyone she's ever loved has either died or left. In her mind, we're just the next in line."

"We need to do better," Sam said firmly. "We need to find ways to show her that this is permanent. That she belongs here."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "We do."

They sat in comfortable silence as the hours passed, taking turns keeping watch over their sleeping sister. Every time you stirred or made a sound, one of them was there instantly, ready to offer comfort if needed. But you slept deeply, your body finally able to rest knowing you weren't alone.

It was nearly dawn when you finally began to stir, your eyes blinking open slowly as you oriented yourself. For just a moment, Dean saw panic flash across your features—the instinctive fear that you'd wake up alone—but then your gaze landed on him, and relief flooded your expression.

"You stayed," you whispered, voice thick with sleep and emotion.

"We stayed," Dean confirmed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "And we'll stay as long as you need us to."

Sam was awake instantly, moving from his chair to sit on the edge of your bed. "How do you feel?"

You considered the question seriously, taking inventory of your body and mind. "Better," you said finally. "Rested. Still scared, but… better."

"The scared part will get easier," Dean promised. "The more time that passes with us staying exactly where we are, the easier it'll get to believe that we're not going anywhere."

You nodded, sitting up slowly and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "I'm sorry. For keeping you up all night, for being such a mess, for—"

"Stop," Sam interrupted gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing."

"We're your big brothers," Dean added. "Taking care of you, staying up all night when you need us to, dealing with whatever mess you think you are—that’s literally our job now. And it’s not a burden or an inconvenience. It’s a privilege."

Fresh tears sprang to your eyes, but these were different—tears of relief rather than fear. "I don't know how to do this," you admitted. "I don't know how to be part of a family."

"None of us do," Sam said with a rueful smile. "We're all kind of making it up as we go along. But we'll figure it out together."

Dean stood up, stretching muscles that were stiff from a night in the chair. "How about we start with breakfast? I make a mean pancake, and I think we could all use some comfort food."

Your stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, reminding them all that you'd barely eaten in the past few days. You blushed, but there was a hint of your earlier humor in your expression.

"Pancakes sound amazing," you admitted.

"Good," Dean said, offering you his hand to help you out of bed. "And while I'm cooking, you and Sam can figure out what movie we're watching today. Because we're having a lazy day. No hunting, no research, no leaving the bunker. Just family time."

You took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet, and Dean was relieved to see that you seemed steadier than you had in days. The sleep had helped, but more than that, he could see that something fundamental had shifted in your understanding of their relationship.

"Are you sure?" you asked as they made their way to the kitchen. "You don't have people depending on you?"

"Right now, the only person depending on us is you," Sam said firmly. "And you're more important than any case."

You were quiet as Dean started pulling ingredients from the refrigerator, but he could see you processing Sam's words, trying to believe them. It would take time—he knew that. Years of abandonment and loss wouldn't be healed by one conversation and one good night’s sleep. But it was a start.

"Dean?" you said suddenly as he began mixing batter.

"Yeah?"

"Can I help? With the pancakes?"

The request was simple, but Dean heard the real question underneath it: Can I be part of this? Can I contribute? Do I belong here?

"Of course," he said, making room for you at the counter. "You can be my sous chef."

As you moved to stand beside him, carefully measuring ingredients under his guidance, Dean caught Sam's eye over your head. His younger brother was smiling, the kind of soft, genuine smile that Dean rarely saw anymore. They were all healing, he realized. Your presence wasn't just changing your life—it was changing theirs too.

"You know," Sam said conversationally as they worked, "I was thinking we could redecorate your room if you want. Make it more… permanent."

You looked up from the bowl you were stirring, hope and uncertainty warring in your expression. "Permanent?"

"Well, yeah,"!Dean said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This is your home now. Your room should reflect that."

"We could paint the walls," Sam added. "Get some new furniture, maybe some bookshelves. Make it really yours."

The smile that spread across your face was radiant, transforming your entire appearance. For the first time since they'd met you, you looked like the teenager you were supposed to be—hopeful and excited about the future instead of constantly braced for the next loss.

"I'd like that," you said softly. "I'd really like that."

Dean flipped the first pancake with a flourish, grinning at your delighted laugh. "Then it's settled. Today we eat pancakes and plan your room makeover. Tomorrow we go shopping."

"And tonight?" you asked, a hint of anxiety creeping back into your voice.

"Tonight we prove to you again that we're not going anywhere," Sam said simply. "And tomorrow night, and the night after that, and every night until you don't need the proof anymore."

"And even then," Dean added, "we'll still be here."

You nodded, tears threatening again but held back by sheer determination. "Thank you," you whispered. "For everything. For staying, for caring, for giving me a chance to be part of your family."

"Our family," Dean corrected gently. "You're not joining something we already had—you're helping us create something new. Something better."

As they finished making breakfast together, the kitchen filled with the warm smell of pancakes and the sound of your laughter as Sam told increasingly ridiculous stories about Dean's cooking mishaps over the years, Dean felt something settle in his chest that he hadn't even realized was unsettled.

They were a family now. Not just him and Sam anymore, but the three of them together. It would take time for you to fully believe in the permanence of it, and there would probably be more sleepless nights and difficult conversations ahead. But they had time. They had each other. And for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

His family was complete.

#spn #supernatural #winchester sister #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister #dean x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #winchesters x sibling #dean winchester x sister!reader

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starconstruction · 8 hours ago

Text

Relocating Reunion

Yandere Chaewon + Yena (SFW)

I, idk.

The three of you knew each other since you were all just children.

The inseparable trio, never breaking apart, not even for a minute.

That continued for years to come, every day you could meet up you three would meet up.

Time was the greatest force of them all, breaking apart your bonds in one fell swoop, it was your parents. They forced you to leave, they moved away.

They didn't see it that way.

They saw it as an act of betrayal, in their eyes you were a traitor. And never called you again, never ever texted you, just left you on read.

You couldn't believe it, many tears were shed those first few weeks at the separation. You were desperate to maintain a connection.

But it was futile.

So eventually, it was time to move on. Which you did. Finding new friends, new life, the old wounds started to close. and eventually they started to heal.

Not for Yena though, not for Chaewon either.

They realized far too late it wasn't your fault.

But at that point you weren't responding to calls or texts. Straight to voicemail and eventually the line went cold.

They were miserable.

They tried to move on with themselves, but it wasn't possible, they desired your conversations, your guidance, your connection.

Yena stalked your social media, looking for any traces of your life, of your whereabouts. But she couldn't find anything, you didn't post enough for them to track you down.

That's when things started to decline for them, the lack of rage made them hollow, empty, it all fell so fast.

Chaewon had a better idea than Yena, one more involved.

She dialed your parents, who were all so conversational, giving them all the information they would need. Chaewon almost hit herself at how easy it was.

It was time for a road trip.

"See you later!" You waved off to your partner, waiting for them to shut the door and officially close this date. Minju gave you a soft smile and matched your goodbye, your heart fluttered.

Is this what love was?

You took the slow route home, basking in the afterglow of the date, every memory replaying in your head. The brisk air pierced through your clothes, it was really fucking cold. But it didn't matter to you, only had a few more minutes until you were home safe and sound.

There was a lot more cars on the street than usual, from cars that cost more than your entire family's cumulative wealth to ones that did not pass the MIT. And of fucking course! They had to park in front of your house in particular, wheels basically mantling the curve and blocking your way in.

You vented the frustration in the form of very slightly kicking your rubbish bin. Couldn't break anything too expensive, your family would find some way to teleport back home and kick the ever-living shit out of you.

You tried to unlock your door, jamming the keys inside, but it was already unlocked. Fucking clumsiness! You opened your door, scanning around but on the bright side it didn't appear you had been robbed today.

Your house was somehow even colder, a chill flowing through the air, a gentle whir coming from your bedroom, you could swear you turned that fan off.

You walked upstairs, ready to throw your bag and go to sleep, social battery well and truly drained. You were walking in the dark, vision only gently granted by Selene's moonlight.

"Ugh." You groaned, finally getting to your room and turning on the light.

"Surprise!!" What the fuck?

You jumped out of your skin, nearly out of this mortal plane as you turned around.

Yena, Chaewon?

"What the fuck are you doing in my house????" You asked, the two of them sat comfortably on your bed like they owned the place.

"Well, we've been so bored without you!" Yena began, but Chaewon cut her off, "And you didn't answer our texts, our calls, stopped even opening them! So we came to see you instead!"

"I-What..? You ignored me first! I don't want to see you!"

"It was our fault, we thought you wanted to leave... But we realized eventually, we can move on!"

You stood your ground against them, who were now right in front of you, their proximity didn't deter you in the slightest.

"No, we are not moving past this. I told you in those messages I didn't want to leave and you ignored me like trash, like dirt, like everything we did together was meaningless. Now. Get out of my house."

Yena gasped, grabbing onto your shoulder, pain visibly etched onto her face as if you dug a knife into her heart. "Y-You aren't even gonna, hear us out? We came all this way to meet you and you want us gone? Really? I..."

"I wanted to stay in touch then, but now I don't. I have new friends and a new partner, I'll always hold fondness for you two but I want you to leave. Breaking into my house like what the fuck is wrong with you two?"

Chaewon glared at you, seeing right past your defensive nature. "Partner? There's no way, no way! You always told us you loved us!"

"Platonically."

"Don't you dare lie to me. I knew there was a spark there!" Chaewon pushed you against the wall, Yena watched in shock but didn't move, only observing her best friend.

"You are crazy, both of you..." You groaned out.

Chaewon looked insane, confused, angry and so much more. Like they expected a fairy tale and got a nightmare. Her eyes widened, Her hand pressing against your stomach, she was warning you.

"We aren't leaving. Not until you hear us out! Now sit down, please..." Chaewon held you there for a few moments longer, her gaze anticipating a reply.

"If you don't leave I'll call the cops."

"Oh Y/N, that's the wrong answer." A sudden strike came to your chest made you kneel, falling onto the ground in agony. Tears coating the corners of your eyes.

"Yena, grab his phone. If he won't listen we will force him." A hand probed around your pockets, another pinned you down.

"Get off me you two!" You thrashed, but it was futile. Your phone slipped into her grasp.

Yena descended down, sitting on your trapped legs, your movement now constricted. She dangled your phone in front of you like a toy, flaunting it. "Now will you hear us out? Please... You never used to be this irrational."

"We thought you'd be happier to see us, after all you left your door unlocked... Obviously you wanted us to surprise you? We tried to tell you we were coming, honestly its your fault." Chaewon closed the door.

"My fault? You broke into my house and have stolen my phone!"

"And we'll return them! We just want you to calm down... You can do that for your friends right?" Chaewon sat on the floor next to you, leaving you completely surrounded.

It was truly a rock and a hard place, a bookshelf blocking your right and one angry girl blocking your left with another blocking your movement.

"You aren't my friends anymore, but I'll hear you out." You sighed venomously.

You could see Yena's eye twitch in the darkness, your words being becoming even more painful, agonising.

"You will be, we've been in misery without you. We wanted to reconnect, to go back to how things were. We've missed you so much Y/N, it's been agony, torture, like we've been trapped. Please, just let's go back to how things were..." Her voice petered out.

"No. I've moved on, you should move on Yena, and Chaewon."

Chaewon grabbed your head, snapping you to face her. "You don't fucking get it! We can't move on, we've tried! I don't get why you are so cold towards us, so cruel! But we will stay until you accept us back into your life."

"I-" Chaewon's hand blocked you speaking anymore.

"No more speaking today, I don't think it'll do us any good... Let's go to bed."

They dragged you up, their combined strength far stronger than you remember. Your heart was pounding, breathing heavy, they sandwiched you. Holding you against their bodies, Yena's heart beated against your ear, what happened to the people you knew?

You couldn't get out, no matter how hard you tried. Their sleeping forms imprisoned you subconsciously.

The next morning they weren't there, but their stuff was. There was no sign of your phone.

You descended down your stairs, the smell of cooking permeating your nostrils. The sheer audacity took you by surprise, how they could be so cocky to cook your food.

You carefully approached the kitchen, trying to scan around for your phone. Only to get greeted eye to eye with Chaewon, who was essentially beaming her smile. It unnerved you with how happy they seemed.

"Morning babe!" Ew. Choke down the bile in your throat and ignore that remark for your own sanity.

"Don't call me that, ew... I have a partner." Yena giggled to your right, operating your pan like she owned the place.

"Wouldn't be too sure about that one..."

What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing..."

"What the fuck do you mean?!" You shouted at them.

"We - well... Messaged her. Threatened her a little bit, took her number from your phone." Your heart shattered into a million pieces, they had appeared for a day and ruined everything.

"What the fuck!?" Chaewon waltzed over, only just realising she was wearing your shirt and nothing else.

"She was just going to get in the way sweetie, now we can reconnect!"

"You aren't the girl I knew." You muttered.

She flashed you a twisted smile, shrugging her shoulders.

"Maybe not, but that's fine, we have a long drive back home so be sure to eat lots of breakfast!"

"What the fuck are you on about Chaewon?" Your heart pounded, swallowing hard at the potential meaning.

"Was it not obvious? We are all heading home!"

You backed up, she didn't let you.

"And baby," she whispered, breathing against your ear, "Yena has a knife..." Shit.

The sounds of plates clicked against your table.

"Come eat. I made your favourite." Yena called out, Chaewon backing away.

You turned around.

Tried to run.

You didn't make it very far.

Chaewon knocked you to the ground.

Sigh. "I guess you'll starve then and we'll have to start on the wrong foot. Anything we do to you is your fault, don't forget that."

"Crazy bitch."

"Yeah yeah yeah, say whatever you want! Last chance to eat with us."

"Fuck you."

"Fine. Starve. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She dragged you to the table, forcing you to watch them. Her legs interlocked around yours, you couldn't run.

And you had a feeling this was just the beginning.

#kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #female yandere #iz*one fic #yena fic #chaewon fic #yandere chaewon #le sserafim yandere #yandere le serrafim

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everlong0girl · 19 hours ago

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

fluff/slight intimacy

warnings: smooching, touching, age gap(20s/50s), no use of y/n

Joel being a vanilla king

I’ve been thinking about him lately like crazy and i had to write one with sweet game Joel. Idc if its not gonna get much likes, i just miss my cowboy/ !english is not my first language!

A young woman, hurt and scared of the world she grew up in. Never even got to get a taste of the normality of the world before this hell. You came to Jackson about a few months ago. You were given a home and community, people, but never would you dared to hope you’d find something even more than that. Tonight he invited you to dinner, hoping himself that it wouldn’t be just that.

The sun had just set and the last rays went right below the horizon. It was dark.

You sat on the old wooden chair on his porch after you two ate two hearty bowls of stew he made just for you, hoping you’d like his cooking and show he was capable.

Now with the bowls empty, he took his guitar and began strumming some idle tunes before asking. “Got a song in mind?”

You just sat there and looked. Growing up trying mostly to stay alive, there was no time for you to enjoy the simplicity and the beauty of listening to music. Nor did you know many. The last time you heard music while outside Jackson was a few years ago, when you ran into a music shop with someone you were with. You just shrugged and said. “I don’t know much songs..” Your voice soft and kind of embarrassed since he seemed to love music oh so much.

As he began playing some song that first came to mind, you interrupted. “I do know that one song..i think it goes like, The world was on fire..” you sung slightly, trailing off as you didn’t remember the rest, and just hummed some broken notes of what your mind could bring back. That was the song you heard back at the ran down music store a few years back, and it staid with you.

He nodded along as you hummed and he said. “I know that one..it’s a classic, Wicked Game..” his rough southern accent making emphasis on the name of the song as if you’d remember it better.

So he began strumming it, his rough fingers, both from playing and from holding a gun, making soft sound of the song, as a big wave of nostalgia hit you. You said. “You’re really talented with that thing..”

He just smiled, his short beard framing his lips as he hummed along. And he said. “Well..more than twenty years of playin’, it does make you good sweetheart.”

That just reminded you how older he was. But you never minded, since he gave you that feeling of safety and in a way, fatherly sense..but if it was anything more, it’d be weird..right?

Eventually you stood up and picked up the two bowls, wanting to take them inside and wash them. As he asked. “Want to go on inside? It’s gettin’ cold for sure..”

Nodding you went inside first. It was September after all.

He sat down on the couch, his voice could be heard trough the room, as he said. “You don’t have to do that, i can take care of the dishes..”

You said. “You cooked, might as well help out..”

He just continued playing the song as you were in the kitchen washing up what was left, a completely domestic scene.

And eventually you came over and sat down by him. Asking. “Why’d you stop?”

“You don’t want me to?” he simply asked back. As he thought maybe you’d get to talk more now that you were inside. But you just shook your head and said. “You’re too good to stop.” a small smile on your mouth.

As he played some more, you leaned your temple against his shoulder and closed your eyes. Feeling the material of his casual but worn out button up shirt against the skin of your face. And he didn’t dare hope for anything, but he could have sworn he just felt something that had become foreign to him at this point.

You were young, it wasn’t right. He was a sad broken old man and you were oh so kind. But then he stopped. Putting the guitar down against the coffee table and looking at you, silent.

You opened your eyes and looked over, asking. “Whats wrong?” but he only looked at you. He knew if he did something, he might ruin things or he could make them a hundred times better. Or he could say nothing and regret them for the rest of his miserable life. He’s had enough.

His hand went up to your own and took it into his, as he said..”Y’know..i’ve been thinkin’ about sum stuff..”

“What kind of stuff?” you asked.

And he looked at you, and said..”Im gettin’ older..and i don’t wanna ruin anythin’ between us but i just can’t..i can’t stop thinkin’ bout you.”

You just stared. You secretly hoped for something, and yet now that it actually happened, you didn’t know what to do.

He continued. “Im sorry..i don’t know what i’m talkin’ bout..Im tired..” Hating for being so sudden with all this, and breaking a perfectly serene moment.

But you stopped him and said..”No..no no no..what do you mean? Talk to me.”

He just shook his head and said. “Im talkin’ nonsense honey..m’sorry..”

Shaking your head you said. “No..it’s not nonsense..It’s real.” As if trying to convince both him and yourself, still a bit shocked this was actually happening.

His head cocked just to the side to look at you, as if angling it a bit subconsciously. And you tried to say something next, but stopped. His face coming up in yours as you could feel his peppery beard gently against your lips.

He smelled like a sweet mix of musk, wood and sweat. It was the most inviting thing you ever smelled. Until he kissed you. Immediately tasting the skin, and the stew you had eaten maybe twenty minutes or half an hour ago.

But then he pulled away, his back straightening up rigid and you looking and blinking at him, as if unaware of what just happened.

His hand came up over his eyes as he muttered a small curse, and you didn’t see his eyes tear up. And he said. “Jesus Christ..what am i doin’.”

“What are you doing?” You asked back from what he said, continuing. “Are you doing something wrong? No..Let yourself feel it..”

As he knew you kissed him back when he initiated it. Meaning you must at least feel something.

And then he looked at you and said. “Im lovin’ you..thats what i’m doin’..And i can’t cus..i ain’t right for you..” he was a stubborn man. Looking at him, you could see it even if you didn’t know him. But you did. These past few months completely and utterly saved you. Saying. “Please look at me. Tell me you don’t wanna be with me..” You said almost daringly.

And he did. He looked at you straight in the face, but instead of saying anything, he just kissed you again. His slightly dry lips colliding with yours as you melted. Your hands going up to cup his hairy jaw, and kiss him back, as his hands went to your ribs and gently held you. Not holding you in place, or dragging you to him. Just holding you.

Until you pulled away and looked at him, a small string of saliva connecting you still until it snapped. And he said. “I want to. I want you, But I’m so scared dove..”

A big strong man like him admitting he was “scared” was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your life. As you just pulled him back in, and slowly you both leaned back on the couch. Your head against the old leather armrest, as he was all up in your space, his beard scratching at your neck as he gently held up your thigh to hook it around his straight waist.

He was flat out against you, as you felt that small about of pudge he had on his belly, reminding you he was human. A simple man who bared his heart to you.

His strong arms holding above you just enough not to suffocate you with his weight.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, the short and slightly messy dark black strands mixed up with white and grayish bending around your hands. You whispered. “I love you, you sweet sweet man..”

And he shot back huskily. “Im sweet when i ought to be baby. Js’ for you..”

One of his hands went down a bit while he gently ground his hips against your jeans, subconsciously and in a way desperately. Just the small contact against your jeans made him let out soft shameless noises. It had been so long since he had this kind of intimacy, and he was now older. Not as virile as he once was back in the day, but still managed to show you he wanted you no matter that.

You heard the soft sounds against your ear, letting out gentle gasps yourself along with hums. Not knowing if you should just let him in now, or wait for some time to just settle into this new relationship of yours.

His fingers going to unbuckle his old leather belt, when you stopped him. You decided. Whispering. “Hey..hey..Calm down, let’s not get ahead of ourselves when we just figured this out..”

“Baby..” was all he muttered. His tone soft and slightly hopeful you’d give in. He’d never do anything against your word and both of you knew that, but he was oh so touch starved.

Not wanting to go too far when you just got together. There was no shame in waiting.

Hearing your silence he just gently sighed into your neck and his hand went up again to brush your hair back blindly. As he said with a soft muffled tone. “Alright..okay..as you say, that’ll be..i’m sure i can wait, i’ve got plenty more left in me honey..”

He slowly let himself fall by you on the couch, smushing you against the backrest of the couch, and him. His arm going around your waist and pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours as his fingers idly went over your ribcage. He said.

“At least stay the night..”

“Stay every night..”

“You asking me to live here?” You asked quietly and in a way jokingly.

He just grunted in agreement and kissed your cheek with a long deep inhale against your skin.

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numinovsly · 1 day ago

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had anyone told grayson that portum existed before the town had greeted him with open arms & that he'd actually find himself a group of friends that were either just like him or understood what it meant to be a bit 'different' — he would have laughed in their faces. told them that he was a monster that was not worthy of finding a place he felt safe or to have friends that not only cared about him but understood him in ways he never expected anyone to understand him ... it was an uneasy feeling at first, to bare his soul in a way he never had. terrifying to the point he had kept walls up around him for months when he first woke up in portum but with each passing day — each passing week, someone would find a way past that wall. reminding grayson that no matter how he saw himself when he looked in the mirror, not everyone thought that way about him. there's a grimace that pulls on the edges of grayson's features as she mentions him having two ghosts, shaking his head as a chuckle falls from his lips. "i'd much rather not have to deal with possibly having to jump back and forth between this form and my wolf form ... sounds like a nightmare if you ask me." grayson retorts, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the very thought of it was giving him an immediate headache. he'd hate it — truly. having to deal with two forms of himself being a ghost. especially if he was then forced to chose which one he would be in that day. but he doesn't know how any of that works at all, he's merely assuming. "if there is someone with all of these dolls and pins, as you say, wouldn't burning it down just make us all feel as if we were burning from the inside out? i deal with that enough as is with my body temperature..." grayson muses, chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks about it. it's not impossible, he does know that, but it's a thought he does not want to think about fully because it terrifies him "so what you're telling me is that all the poisons you see in movies are all bullshit? or they're just potions that the villian upped the dosage on?" he asks with a slight chuckle, shaking his head at the thought. portum truly does cause him to learn something new every single day. "well honestly i'm not as old as most people in portum — werewolves and aging work a little differently than others from what i'm learning. especially because i shifted so late in my life. i'm not a catfish ... not yet at least. give me a few more years." he teases with a grin. he listened to her tell him that she was going to the bonfire as well, nodding his head as his arms cross over his chest, brow raising as if he was in deep thought about something before the grin on his face turns almost devilish. "i've learned that there are ways of getting people to talk about things they aren't supposed to talk about, especially if i happen to flirt a little ... bat my eyelashes at them. all of that kind of stuff." grayson says, shrugging his shoulders as if he was simply talking about the weather in portum. "and with a little liquid encouragement that will more than likely be at the food tents — i'll probably be able to get a little bit of intel. even if it's just a little bit, that's better than nothing."

yes , the light of one soul could indeed be reflected in another . she never expected it to be in someone in their chaotic element , a wolf of feral and grinning proportions , but when she thinks about it , supposes it to make some damn good sense . their oppositional forces met in the middle where similarities fine - tune into a lovely hum . whatever rigid notions she has , they fall away in his presence , and if he has an errant thought about something a bit too out there , she will be present to ensure it doesn't backfire on her . how serendipitous it would be for they to uncover the seedlings of truth behind these hiding shadows ; for that very same reason , ginny wouldn't be surprised if it shields itself from their beacons of light . ( does gray know that he has that tendency to glow ? a zapping , like fireflies at dawn . ) she can't be the one to tell him . it'll blow up his ego into a million bubblegum pieces and stick to her hair . it wouldn't match today's dress . “ i wonder if they'd let you keep the wolf too . then , in that case , you'd be having two ghosts and methods of haunting for the price of one permanent perish . ” she lifts a finger , as though attempting to count them . in truth , she might classify herself as also having two ghosts ; one of her mortal self where she was simply witch , and the one now walking around as a heretic . rather unfortunate it doesn't work the same for wolves . she takes off one of her day gloves , rolling it at the wrist before slowly plucking at each finger of fabric . “ now i'd never bother to call you an asshole when i'm out here thinking the same thing . someone having a collection of dolls and far too many pins and needles . there's numbing through me whenever i've tried to use my witchness up until recently . why not buy into these claims ? we should find the shack where they're housed and burn it to the ground . ” pluck . pluck . then the smooth skin of her dark hand revealed , where she stretches the fingers as though they awaken from a long sleep . her expression bright and somewhat callous perhaps . or rebellious .

“ then we'd be done with it , ” she declared . this was banking on the fact that it existed . ginny couldn't be sure about that , but what she does know , are remedies . “ the only difference between a potion and a poison , gray , is the dosage . in my hands , you'd be entirely safe . and as i said , i can recreate it without that lethal potency . ” there are benefits to no longer having original bottles nor things , and simply the text of the recipe to pull from out of her mind . she often discards things , too many things , she no longer finds useful . and granted , this could be a long and nefarious list , depending on what kind of mood struck her . “ you don't want to go back to the days of listening to serj tankian and panic ? ” she means panic! at the disco , but the pause makes it sound rather comical . her mouth spreads in that echo of a smile but it doesn't quite reach her eyes . “ yes , i'll be there . ” whether or not that could be classified as going and doing things remains to be seen . but she finds that there is — relief . golden and soft , realising she wasn't going to have to , at least , dawdle there alone . “ you know i love a good meal . they're steals at these things . and people - watching . who knows what secrets can just be overheard by looking handsome and demure ? ” plenty ; ginny has exacted and perfected this tactic in her mind . rarely is there something that can't be gotten .

#『 .·: ✘ grayson nam ✘ :·. 』 ↷ threads.#『 .·: ✘ featuring ✘ :·. 』 ↷ ginny.

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