#'because i say so' is just me joking! but i like them very much so i wanted to use the tag...

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball,

some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

 It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[sweetestdesire]

3:28AM

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader wakes up Quinn Hughes with a very important question at three in the morning.

“Hey.” Y/N poked Quinn’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble underneath her cheek. “Quinn?” She shoved his chest, making him groan as his arms tightened around her. His upper body was bare, and the warm skin against hers felt like home, but it was simply not enough to have her go to sleep. “Quinn, wake up. C’mon.” She insisted, each word was spoken with a poke to his rib cage, and Quinn hissed, rolling over in bed to turn away with his back to her.

“No.” He mumbled sleepily. His voice was low, words slurred in his tired state, but it did little to break her resolve. She simply poked his back instead.

“Quinn, it’s important.” Y/N whispered urgently. He waited a few moments before ultimately grumbling as he gave in, turning to face her as his eyes glared at her while he rubbed the sleep out of them.

“What? What is it?” Quinn asked, his voice flat.

“Okay, so.” Y/N grinned. Quinn raised an eyebrow, and he didn’t like where this was heading even if he didn’t exactly know where this was heading. “If we were like, I don’t know, forbidden lovers or something, and we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

“It’s three in the goddamn morning, Y/N.” Quinn groaned, rubbing his face exasperatedly with his hand. Peering at her from the side, he exhaled at her pout. “Don’t make that face at me. Okay, you know what? Go ahead.”

Quinn always gave in when it came to her, and at times like these, it concerned him a little just how far he’d go for her. That much control in her hands over him couldn’t be good, but still, he trusted her. Blindly, with no doubts, Quinn always trusted her. Although, right now, he was second-guessing his choices.

“Okay, as I was saying,” Y/N huffed, “if we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

Quinn was tired and cranky, and his muscles ached, and his eyelids were the heaviest they’ve been with sleep, but still, he sighed before pondering over an answer for her question. And it was sweet, really, how he always indulged her in her mindless thoughts, no matter how pointless or how late. He always had a soft spot for her, and even if he rethought his choices sometimes, he couldn’t ever bring himself to regret them.

“Like... to another country?” Y/N hummed in confirmation. “Then I guess France.” He mumbled.

Resting her chin on his chest, Y/N peered up at him, his arm curling around her and pulling her closer. “How come?”

“So that I can push you off that big ass tower and finally get a good night’s sleep.” Quinn grunted, closing his eyes with a yawn.

Scowling, Y/N slapped his chest, making him scowl back. They both glared half-heartedly at each other, his eyes boring into hers. And he had to be up soon, but all thoughts of rest were whisked away for a moment when he caught a glimpse of her in the dark room, nothing but the moon offering any sort of light.

“Well, I wouldn’t run away with you if you treated me like that.” Y/N muttered, adding, “Jerk.” after a few moments just to ensure she got her point across.

Quinn snickered, and his arm tightened its grip on her. He felt safe because he always spoke through his actions, no matter how big or small. The way his arms grasped her, how they always kept her in place, right by his side spoke figures. His love was pure, it was raw, and it was real. She cracked a smile at his chuckles, the soft sound melting her heart and then some.

“I’m kidding, baby.” Quinn grinned, softly pecking her forehead. “I wouldn’t blow all that money on a plane just to push you off a building. I can do that anywhere.”

Rolling her eyes at how pleased he seemed at his answer, Y/N grabbed a loose strand of hair resting on his forehead, twirling the ends as she hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, if you’re about done with the shitty jokes.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that they're not shitty.” He grumbled, poking a finger at her side.

“Why else do you wanna go there?” He shrugged, mindlessly stroking her back with his palm, looking off out the window.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it supposed to be like a romantic place?” Y/N stared at him for a moment, blinking, and for a second, he wondered if he said something wrong. And then she broke into a fit of giggles, making him stare at her bewildered as a soft blush dusted over his cheeks.

“Oh, Quinny.” Y/N snorted. “My little hopeless romantic.” She teased, pinching his cheek. The blush spread to the tips of his ears as he scowled, shoving her hand away and huffing. She hoped he didn’t feel her heart hammering in her chest from his words, though.

“I will shove you off a building. It can happen, you know.” He warned playfully. But despite his words, he still leaned in and accepted the sweet kiss she pressed to his lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Okay, your turn. Where would you wanna go?”

Shrugging, Y/N twisted the strand of hair around her finger, moving to trace the slope of his jaw. “Anywhere.” She whispered. “As long as I’m with you.” She said it truthfully, and Quinn was oddly emotional from the confession. Smiling softly, he pressed delicate kisses to her cheeks before connecting her lips, humming into the kiss as his hand rubbed up her spine.

“Baby.” Quinn murmured, and she hummed in response. “That’s real cute.” He huffed with a small chuckle, making her beam. And all too swiftly, she was pulled down with her cheek smooshed against his chest and his arms locked firmly around her, no chance for escape — though, she didn’t think she’d want to leave, anyway. “Now go to sleep.”

[pupcuck]

(I COULD NEVER BE) YOUR WOMAN !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. crossdressing, force fem, short instance of groping/harassment by some gross man, humiliation, dom!reader, a few misogynistic comments surprisingly not from leon, repressed homosexuality, leon n some unnamed cute guy, r slur is used ONCE by same gross dude, slight angst, implied/past sa very light tho, public sex, dub-con

note. title from white town duh has nothing to do w the fic. um unedited n quite bad not loving this but here u go.. 2000s clubbing.. I also want 2 say r slur is used by some dude who is just awful to leon in this.. not meant to be like . y’know there for shock value lol it’s a word I’ve been called a lot so that would be my last intention. um leon has some misogynistic thoughts but I don’t want them to come across as mine LMFAO I know that I do a very close pov so I don’t want my views to mix with the characters as people usually tend to think. comments n rbs greatly appreciated!

“You hate me,” Leon states like an upset child, one false lash deep into a murky pit he couldn’t even grapple hook his way out of.

“No, baby.” You shake your head, smiling at him like you hate him. “I love you very much.” The other lash is stuck on, black and spiky in kitchen knife points. He blinks and the heaviness does not melt away like sleep. “My sweet girl.”

“You do,” Leon says, he makes a vague gesture towards his attire, scooping nothing but air with his cupped hand, “hate me,” he adds after a second, the words hang heavy in the air like sopping wet laundry or a body from a tree. You’re busy giving him a once over, a small hand lightly grasping his chin to keep his head up. You’ve never held him so gently before, but this is how girls treat other girls, he supposes. With great care.

“What?” You use a lint roller to pick up loose fibre and tricky stray particles of dust. “Because I made you all pretty, honey?” You lean forward, and Leon, besotted, closes his eyes as if you’re going to kiss him. “I just did your makeup, no kisses, Leon.” Of course, that’s right, he forgot, no kisses. You lick your finger and smudge your work to give him that freshly fucked and wanting more appeal.

“Sorry.” He looks at his reflection.

Blink. Blink. Blink. His eyes make a tacky noise, as if each blink is unsticking them.

He looks ridiculous, not even like a drag queen, they are tasteful and deliberate in their art. He looks exactly like what he is - a man in a wig. There is no pretty way to put it because what he is looking at is not very pretty. The wig tickles his neck like a pale whisper. It is shining too brightly in the way all fake things do, plasticky in the buzzing bathroom light. Metallic shimmer dusts his eyelids like crushed stars, iridescent-pearlescent is all the rage nowadays, it’s barely visible past the thick black that lines his eyes like you’re actively trying to worsen his bags and push him into panda territory.

Leon thinks it is a good idea to think of nothing ever again, like ever. If he didn’t have that thought, if he didn’t sit opposite you at the dining table confessional-style, if he shut his mouth and never spoke a word—Then he would not be sitting here closer to tears than he ever has been, fists clenched tight enough to make coal into diamonds.

You thumb the corner of his glossed lips. “Ready?” You ask him, then turn to face him, pulling a smile that is so mean it’s somewhat ugly and out of place on a face like yours. “Don’t speak or you’ll ruin it, ‘kay?”

A bag big enough to carry a lip gloss tube and nothing else dangles on your pinky as you check your face in the mirror, usually your gloss would be in Leon’s breast pocket, or his back pocket. Whatever pocket he has available.

Today he has nothing of the sort, embarrassingly, you place a tube between his pecs and it stays. You tip your head back and laugh at him, swiping it away a moment later. “I’m only joking, Leon.”

A considerable amount of muscle has been dropped since he came back from Spain. Cooking is hard, eating is harder, and he only really makes the effort when you visit. You don’t pry, so it’s only now that he notices, filling out your dress too well, that his edge has almost completely been lost to softness.

And it’s still there—He’s still a man with a dick and balls first and foremost. His arms are big, and his chest juts out in the wrong way. Wrong. It’s all so wrong.

This thought is neutered by your hand on his too-big bicep, fingers curling to his shape as you guide him along the stairs in matching kitten heels, he clutches the bannister for support like he’s going into labour.

Today you drive. “Got to treat you like a princess,” you say, smiling at him. All teeth. You take off your heels and kick them beneath the seat where they’ll surely tangle in the cables.

Leon reclines in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing in and out, two minutes away from inducing labour. Dramatics, y’know? Because he’s a girl today, not because he feels like he is being gutted by a claw machine.

You drive, he tosses and turns and squints at the road ahead to hide his creased brow. You drive, and he wonders what led him to this very moment, what has become of him and his pity party life. But Simon Says and Leon does. You say and Leon follows blindly like a die-hard fucking fan of Jesus would. A disciple, he guesses, but in some way even that is too much credit. At least they were, like, on equal grounds. He’s too passive to be Judas, and too much of an unbeliever to be any of the other ones. He is just some fucking mangey street urchin suckling on the teat of a wild dog that Jesus patted once and cured and would not leave the poor dude alone.

Unfortunately, Leon takes instructions better than he does dick and that is his problem. Yeah, that’s what he was trying to say before it all got away from him.

The bouncer questions nothing, no ID is needed, which is both a relief and an insult to Leon. Does he look that old? This makeup, this dress, this stringy mop of a wig it ages him.

The bass of a thousand beating hearts rips through him.

If Leon was a girl he’d simply kill himself. It hurts too much. The dress is itchy and his chest is sweating and his full face of makeup is melting his skin into goop and his feet are killing him. He’s sorry for all those times he requested a girl keep her stilettos on during sex. He’s sorry to you for buying you shoes on all those anniversaries, birthdays and Christmases. He’s sorry for that time he requested a lap dance in heels on your anniversary, his birthday, and that joint Christmas. He is sorry to every fucking woman for the system that has been put in place that requires them to wear heels to work and to dinner dates and to pick their kids up from preschool.

“Are you hurting, baby?” You place a cool hand on his cheek, feather-light, ensuring you don’t smear his pasty foundation. When he nods, pitiful, you coo at him. “Oh, big ol’ Agent Kennedy, I’m sure you can handle it, sweetie.”

Leon shakes his head again, firmer and sadder. “You can handle it,” you tell him, smiling dropping as fast as it came. A hand comes to rest on his waist then slides upwards along his naked back, courtesy of the open back of his blue dress, gliding over his pronounced shoulder blades. Lily-white and spread sideways like lotus petals or something akin to angel wings.

The two of you end up in a booth with four men and a red-headed girl who is decently pretty. She talks too fast for Leon’s liking, and each time she opens her mouth, which is a lot of fucking times for a long fucking time, her spit flies out and lands on his face in beads.

There is a man who’s tall and strapping in the way Leon likes his men in the private fantasies he keeps hidden in the lonely gallery that is his mind. His experience with dick starts with Jack and ends somewhere before you. Jack taught him how to work a dick, and if Leon were to kiss and tell, he’d tell this man how much he wants to play with it, stroke it and love on it.

(Only if he was a girl, which tonight he is.)

You’re midway through telling a story, leant in for added effect, elbows on the sticky table. “And Leon says, she’s like—“ Your voice fades out.

Another guy, stout and ugly, sort of piggish in the face, asks, “Is it a dude?” He jabs his thumb in Leon’s direction. “That’s a dude's name.”

“What, no.” You frown, breezing over your blunder like fingers on silk. “It’s a nickname, y’know, from when we were kids, ‘cause she looks like a dude.” Laughter lifts into the air like plumes of smoke. Leon feels like he is breathing it in, tiny shards crystallise in his lungs and choke him.

He shouldn’t be humiliated, there is nothing to be humiliated about because he is what you say he is. He’s a dude. But he is humiliated, and it is driving him mad, he has killed himself in a hundred different brutal ways in his head while you talk.

“She don’t talk, she got a problem?” He says in his nasty, thick voice. “Is she retarded?” It sounds like there’s phlegm lodged in his throat all the fucking time. “Feminist?” Good lord.

“Oh my gosh, like, I don’t think you can say that,” the ginger smiles nervously.

“She just gets a little scared around guys.” Your smile is so cold it chills him to his core. “Bad experiences, y’know?”

Not exactly wrong. Leon is weary of shared showers, he is weary of urinals, of stalls with busted locks, and he is weary of other men, but he would never say it and he would never show it. But now, sitting here as a girl, as a woman, he trembles.

“Oh, yeah?” The dude sits back, spreads his legs to accommodate a dick he likely doesn’t have. Then he leaves it at that.

You kiss him to make up for the silence, you grope his tits—his chest through the fabric of his dress, you raise your Von Dutch tee to show off your cute heart-shaped pasties. None of it is for Leon, it’s for the guys sitting in front of you, because as a woman you exist for men, to perform and flash your panties and act like you’re into it.

Which you are, he knows your pussy is wet ‘cause of that look on your face, eyes glinting like marbles, you’re getting off on him being stretched past his limits.

An hour later, you push him onto the dance floor, watching through throngs of people and Leon is met with the pig-faced guy, he’s pink and sweaty like one too. Leon denies every advance he lays out. Then fingers splay over the round of Leon’s ass, and his flesh is gripped so tight it mottles how dicks purple.

The guy says something and everything and nothing but fluff. You uppity slut—You think you can—Speak up—Y’know, even the ugliest bitches have wet little pussies between their legs—

Leon really does not.

Leon could push him off. He could break his fingers, disable him, kill him in the middle of this godforsaken dance floor. But he just stands there and stares like a real woman.

(But he has always stood there and looked death right in the eye, it comes hurtling, barrelling into him at full speed like a shit-caked asteroid and all he does is stand there. He’s not had the energy to get back up lately.)

The handsome guy, the one that is taller than Leon, the one that he likes a lot, steps in and saves him. And this is what it must feel like, to be swept off your feet. To be princess carried and loved sweetly by someone worn and rough.

Christ, this wig has a mind of its own. Infecting Leon’s psyche with its mushy bullshit. He wants to go home. He wants a beer and a drag from your cigarette. He doesn’t smoke, but he will tonight.

“Are you alright?” The handsome man somehow manages to shout gently over the music. He is so nice, and so handsome it feels wrong to look at him. Leon thinks he knows, and when this man smiles, Leon knows that he knows for certain. “I won't tell.” He grins down at Leon again, soft and brilliant and kind.

Leon passes you on the way to the bathroom, he tells you that it’s getting stuffy in here, then he leaves to get stuffed with cock in the ladies room as all good boyfriends do.

The click of heels makes him suck in a breath, he plants two hands on the broad chest in front of him, tightens around the dick in him so hard he might cut off all blood flow, salty fingers in his mouth keep him from crying out.

Leon knows it’s you from the clink of your bangles. The source of chatter is the red-headed girl, you likely motion for her to be silent—He counts to twenty then meets your eye under the gap in the door. He whimpers around the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally someone in there,” you gush to the other girl who gasps, “I saw, like, two pairs of shoes, really cute heels.”

“She’s luckyyy, I hope she’s getting it good,” she sighs, “hey, where’d your friend go by the way, the blonde one?”

“Leon?” You seem to pause, weighing up your options. “She’s a total fucking slut.”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, I bet she’s gone home with some guy already—I mean, she might be in that fucking stall, wouldn’t put it past her.”

In the stall, Leon shifts, back bumping the wall as he pushes his hips out, grinding down on his dick like he needs this over and done with.

“I could never do that…” The redhead says, “It’s, like, so icky in here…”

“I don’t think Leon minds,” you muse, “I mean, like, don’t tell her I told you, but she gets on her knees in club bathrooms, like, she’s dirty.”

“Gross!”

“I know!” You burst into giggles. “I told her that’s, like, way too far! I mean they don’t even clean these places properly, they send some underpaid dude with a Kleenex out to do the job.”

Leon’s knees ache with the guilt of sucking dick on his knees in a Kleenex-cleaned club bathroom. The dick inside of him throbs, a single push and it spills into the rubber.

The click of heels fades out as you and your newfound friend exit the bathroom.

“You let your friend talk about you like that?” The man asks, smiling still.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Leon says meekly in a voice that is not his. He has never been meek or scared or anything of the sort. Leon has guts, too many maybe, they make him stupid. That’s what he gets by on. That’s why Leon returns home. Because he tries not to make a place for feelings.

“I know.” The guy shrugs, he spins Leon around so his back is facing the mirrors. Leon twists his head to look. The striated planes of his back. Your nails in his skin.

“Oh.”

Leon gets in your car and apologises.

“Aw.” You pinch his cheek, uncaring of your heavy hand now that his lipstick is smeared in rings around another man’s dick. “I know, baby, my girl just wanted to have fun.”

My girl, my girl, my girl. He’s not your girl. You’re his girl, and he’s your man and that’s the way Leon likes it. He likes to drape his arm over your shoulders in place of a coat when it gets windy, he likes to pay the bill on dates, he likes to drive you around and he likes to hold your shopping bags. Because that is good and swell and—It’s normal.

You drive him home without saying a word, letting him sit and drown in the weight of his problems until you help him inside, he’s hindered by 1.5 inch heels.

When Leon tries to take his dress off, you stop him. “Princess,” you coo, his teeth rot and he smells the cavities, “I want to play with you.”

“Not like this,” he begs, gazing up at you through his false lashes.

“Yes, like this, baby.” You sit him down on the couch, you take off your heels and then bend down to unbuckle the strap on his. That’s his job. Leon should be doing that for you, a tender grip on your ankle as he threads the metal through the needled holes. “Look at these.” You stand back up, taking the seat beside him, one of your small hands grabbing the underside of his thighs and spreading him open, a leg thrown over yours. “These cute tits,” you say, kissing his neck as you shove your hand down the low-cut neck of his dress, grabbing at his chest in pinching handfuls.

“Don’t call them that,” Leon says quietly, his ears pink like the pucker of his hole.

“I’ll say what I want, princess, okay?” You kiss him hard, teeth knocking into his and your wet tongue running over his front teeth like you want to scrape the plaque from them. “I’m going to fuck you like a girl,” you tell him, pushing his legs as far as they go, his toes curl.

“I don’t like that—“

“I don’t like your dick or your stupid sex talk and I don’t like being fucking pile drived, do you think I like being folded like origami you stupid fucking oaf?” It’s said in the same measured tone of voice you always use, the one that makes him feel stupid. “This is what it’s like being a girl, baby, gotta do what I want.”

Then you lift your hips, skirt shed and panties to the side, puffy pussy swallowing the tip of his cock as you sit on it, taking it inch by inch by inch by inch. All four of ‘em. You hold onto his ankles as you fuck yourself on his cock, a soft squelch everytime his cock bottoms out, slick dripping down his thick shaft and balls.

Leon doesn't like this. How you have him. How you’re taking him, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling good. Your pussy is wet and warm and it squeezes around him, gripping his cock like it’s all you’ve got to live for. You reach between your thighs to rub your swollen clit, but Leon beats you, wanting to make himself useful.

“Good girl,” you praise, eyes rolling back into your skull as you slow your pace, coming to a halt as you place a hand over his, urging him to rub you raw. Then you cum as he presses his thumb into your tiny bud hard, cunt spasming around his dick, letting out a gasp and toppling forward into his chest. Leon’s cock slips out of your cunt, rock hard and lonely, he holds you as his legs drop to the floor, feet on the floor where they belong.

“I didn’t… I didn’t get to…” Leon looks at your face and then his stiff dick, pouting almost.

“I know, baby.” You kiss his head tenderly, so tender he nearly forgets why he’s upset. “But you’re a girl now, right?”

[julesdaydreams]

@rosekillermicrofic II prompt: May 1 - rose II word count: 951

TW: blood (it's nothing major, just a cut, but it's there)

Barty was standing in front of him with a rose.

Barty, his best friend for over six years, was standing in front of him, Evan, with a fucking rose.

And Evan's mind was spinning.

It wasn't like he hadn't dreamt of a moment like this. When the ball at the end of the year was announced, Evan's mind immediately wandered towards Barty. How it would feel to go there with him. His best friend, but more importantly, with the boy he's been madly in love with for the better part of three years.

Evan imagined himself standing in front of Barty, asking him to the dance, and not as friends - like the other times the two of them had attended gatherings together instead of bringing a date because they just couldn't be arsed to ask someone - but as more.

And now Barty was standing in front of him with that damned rose, thorns still adorning the stem because of course Barty wouldn't bother removing them, would like the fact that if he wasn't careful they'd sting and draw blood.

Was this some crude joke of his friend? Was this like all those other times they've gone together to such things instead of bringing someone else? But no, that wouldn't explain the rose. In all those years there had never been a rose and Evan didn’t know what it meant.

“So?”, came the all too familiar voice and Evan's head snapped up and towards those large eyes that looked like Barty's, but also not because Evan had never seen them like this; wide and expecting, but there was fear behind them, a tension, as if Barty was ready to bolt if Evan said something wrong.

“What?” Was all Evan's very unhelpful brain could come up with.

Barty looked exasperated with him already.

“The ball, Evan. You want to go? With- With me?” Barty's voice was higher than usual, if not by much but Evan could tell. He was also fidgety - which was usually pretty normal for the boy, but not with Evan. Not when they were alone.

Finally focusing on the fact that he should probably say something, Evan stepped into action.

“Oh! Yeah sure, mate. You don't have to ask so formally, we always go together to these things, no?”, he laughed lightly but it all came out wrong. Because for once in his life Evan couldn't suppress the hope that this was something else, that this meant more, whatever that more was.

Barty cursed, rolled his eyes, before looking at Evan with so much intensity, he found himself pinned to the floor, not even blinking.

“Rosie, you know that's not what I meant. That's not what this is. I got you a rose for fucks sake! Isn't that obvious enough?! I don't want to go as mates. Not with you. Not anymore. I just- I really hope I haven't been reading this wrong and I'm making a complete arse of myself right now. But- you want this too, right? Want… want us to be more than best friends?”

It all came out in a jumbled mess, just calming down over the last few words and he sounded so unsure. Evan has never seen him like that he wanted to make it go away, now.

So, when his brain finally caught up with him, when his thoughts where finally aligned, focused on the boy in front of him, the boy he loved, he just acted.

He took the rose from Barty's hands, feeling the way the thorns dug into his palm, cutting skin, because he couldn't waste a moment being careful about such a thing when all he wanted was Barty.

His arms wrapped around Barty's neck, pulling him down the few inches he had on Evan, and crashed their mouths together.

It wasn't gentle. Maybe it could've been. If Evan wanted it to. He could've taken Barty's rose gently, instead of crushing the stem in his palm. Could've taken Barty's cheeks in both his hands, cradling them, before planting a sweet kiss to the other boys lips.

But Evan had waited three years for this moment. Had been gentle with his own heart this whole time, trying to protect it, to shield it from every hook-up of Barty's, from every hickey that the other had, that weren't from Evan.

For once he wanted to be reckless and now, here, with Barty he finally could.

Soon it was tongues and teeth clashing together and Evan biting Barty's tongue, drawing blood from the other and loving the taste, loving the whimper it elicited from the taller boy.

Evan would've spent the rest of his life standing there and snogging Barty, but the taller boy took a step back all too soon, looking at Evan with such adoration it made him melt on the insides.

“Is that a yes?”, Barty asked and it wasn't nervous anymore, but cocky. That familiar smirk on his face finally back where it's supposed to be and Evan was so happy with it all.

“That's a fucking yes. I'll go to that stupid dance with you, Barty.”

They kissed again, something long and slightly less brutal, if just as intense.

And if Evan forgot about the rose in his bloody hand and brought it to the side, cradling Barty's neck and jaw; if the thorns stung the other boy's creamy skin, painting it a crimson red… Well. None of them seemed to mind.

[rius-cave]

Idea for an interaction between Luci and Adam

Lucifer: You used to be so kind and happy. So full of life and wonder. What ever happened to you?

Adam, seething: YOU happened to me, damnit! How do you not see that? You STOLE my first wife! You CORRUPTED my second wife with your shitty fuckin APPLE! You condemned all of humanity, all of my descendants, to a life of toil and suffering, all cuz the Big Plan wasn't fucking good enough for you!

And then, you left me! You left US! Left us to deal with the mess that you created! You are the reason for everything that has ever gone wrong in my life! You're the reason I doubted if Cain was my child! You are the reason Cain killed Able! And YOU are the REASON I was alone in Heaven!

Lucifer, looking mortified: W... What was that last part?

Adam, hysterical: You really didn't know?! Oh, what a fucking joke this is! Yeah, they didn't let Eve in because she committed the first sin. But she wasn't bad enough for Hell, so they basically just... Erased her.

*Adam feels his chest*

Adam: But, hey, at least I got my rib back.

Lucifer: Adam, I-

Adam: Able never got into Heaven cuz they hadn't created the Winner system yet. Cain's still wandering the Earth. I'm not allowed to talk to him. Not allowed to tell him that I forgive him, despite how much I hate what he did to his brother, because the angels fear that my forgiveness would undo his curse.

All of my other children, and all of their children, and so on, are just... MIA. The angels don't know what happened to them. Up until the big J-man came about, there were, like, clerical errors or something. They could be in heaven, and just not realize we're related. Or they could have been in hell, and killed in an extermination. I have nothing, Lucifer. My existence is hollow.

Huh! These are some interesting headcanons about the whereabouts of Adam's family! I have to say I haven't thought much about them, cause idk, I have no purpose for them yet personally. But wow, these hit hard. Eve was just erased????? fuckin yikes :(

Cain still wandering the Earth is also really interesting, is he there as like, an immortal human? Is he a ghost lol? Is he just dead but he can't enter Heaven or Hell like... uh... well a ghost i suppose lmao.

To me it would feel like most of Adam's family just doesn't wanna see him anymore, regardless if they're in Heaven or Hell, but them being just... lost is also an interesting possibility.

Also. ouchie. About that whole exchange. No matter how silly of a guy Lucifer is, he is definitely still the Devil and very much responsible for most of humanity's suffering lol

[anothermansjeans]

Hey i hope you get your mojo back! As my personal indulagance which hopefully also help you may i please requeat 6 and 8 from the first random dialoge list with spencer read and an NONbau reader, exstra love if its an neighrbour reader!

Love and kisses ❤️❤️❤️

thank youuuuuu!!!! i also want to apologize-- you didn't specify gn or fem! reader and i was just about done when i realized i did fem!reader, so lmk and i will happily rewrite if needed 🫶

i also don't know how i feel about this but i tried lmao

also only a little proofread...

prompts:

"Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn’t have to completely fall apart."

"This is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty."

cw: mention of family member dying, the word vomit being used

wc: 920

++

Spencer was very concerned. His neighbor– his very attractive, down to Earth, and kind neighbor– was frantic, eyes sunken, and just wasn't as… present as she usually is. Spencer was concerned.

His concern also may have been a bit biased because of the small crush he harbored for her… but he didn't want to think about that too hard.

He hadn't been around much recently, getting called into the BAU more often than not, but when time did allow him to linger around his building, he would see the distress on her from a mile away. The other day, right before a case, he was locking up his apartment when she was just getting home. It was quiet this time of day, but that was cut short when her phone started to ring.

“This is the one time I’m wishing they're calling about my car’s extended warranty.”

Her disgruntled mumble was pretty soft, and if Spencer wasn't right across the hall from her he wouldn't have heard it. He wanted to see if she was okay, but she answered her phone and he was being asked for his ETA at the BAU.

When that case was finally over, and he was walking back to his place, he suddenly stopped and turned towards her door. There was a package in his apartment that was placed with his mail in the mailroom, and only really looked at it last week; right before he left for a case. He would've given it to her then if he wasn't already late at the time, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving it in front of her door so this was truly the next best thing.

His plan was the following: knock on your door, tell you he has your package in his apartment, grab said package, and then leave with dignity. There was no way he could screw this up.

His knock was soft, but the way she swung open the door was a sharp contrast to that. “Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn't have to completely fall apart oh– you're not the delivery guy.”

Your dejected look caused a small ache in his chest. “No, but the delivery people tend to not come to our doors, they're supposed to stay in the mail room– you already knew that.” He was getting flustered. This was not a part of the plan. “Are you okay?” He couldn't help himself. After seeing the way you were last week, and how that hasn't changed one bit since he was gone… he really wanted to make sure all was well.

She barely waited a moment before answering. “No,” the crack in her voice was evident. “My great aunt passed and she was a horrible person, but the funeral directors were asking me which address to send the urn to and my sister stepped in making sure I didn't put mine down because I’m ‘most likely to lose aunt Pearl’s ashes’ and the rest of my family overheard and started running with the joke. With me being me I wanted to prove them wrong so I did give them my address and I still don't have the urn but they're saying it was delivered and oh my, God, I’m dumping all of this on you.” Her eyes were welled up with tears, and with how wide her eyes became he was surprised the tears hadn't started to fall. “I’m just going to… let you go on with your day. I’m so sorry, Spencer, maybe we can talk to–” she started to close the door, blocking her face that held a worrisome look.

“I have it!” It’s as if he suddenly remembered why he went over there in the first place “I’m uh, I'm assuming I have it…?”

“You do?” Her door was now wide open again, and a spark of hope was shown in her eyes.

“Yeah, that's why I came over here. I just got back from work and wanted to let you know before I grabbed it. They put it with my stuff and I didn't check it until a couple of days ago and then I had a case and–”

“Spencer?” She cut off his worried rambling.

“Yes?”

“Could you grab it please?”

“Oh! Yeah!” He was like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. His legs were not keeping up with his body as he quickly walked over to his place, unlocked his door, and made way for the box over in the corner by his bookcase. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ve been at work more than not recently and I should've brought it over as soon as I knew it was yours but–”

“Oh, I could kiss you right now!” She grabbed the box so fast it could be considered snatching, but Spencer didn't mind.

“Maybe after I take you on a date?” What the hell was that? She was excited, he was flustered, and for him, word vomit was real. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I–”

“Spencer…” She stopped his worried ramble once again, and Spencer assumed he died and went to Heaven because there was no way the next words out of her mouth were real. “Ask me tomorrow, when I’m not all flustered. I’ll definitely say yes.”

Yeah, he definitely died and went to Heaven, because the next day, he saw her walking back from the grocery store, walked up to her, stuttered through asking her out for real, and she said yes. Just as promised.

[pantherxrogers]

hi I love your work can you please do a sugar daddy/boyfriend Mingi and what he will do for reader

headcanon: sugar daddy!mingi x reader  ✧

🎀 pairing: mingi x fem!reader

🎀 warnings: suggestive, explicit language, mention of daddy kink

🎀 summary: spoiled!reader wants to bring all of her friends to coachella. mingi can't say no 🤭

🎀 a/n: tysm for your request! this was super fun (and challenging) for me to write as a san bias, lmao. i hope you love it! divider by @fairytopea

“I reaaaaally miss you, Mingki,” you coo into the phone, knowing you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. That nickname always gets to him.

Fighting back giggles, you motion a quiet down to your friends, so your boyfriend can’t hear them on the other end. 

“I miss you too, baby,” he groans, knowing you’re about to get exactly what you want. But, if you ask him, he really can’t help it. Who is he to deny you?

“It’ll be so nice to see you, baby. Plus the girls really want to go to Coachella, too,” you whine, putting extra pout behind your words, playing it up for him. 

“Baby, I only asked for one press pass. I don’t know if I can get extras for your friends,” he added, hoping you’d drop it, but knowing he won’t be that lucky. 

Hidden away on the side of the practice stage, Mingi battles with himself on what he’s going to do next. The desert heat beats down on his neck, sweat accumulating in the oversized tee shirt and sweats he decided to wear for soundcheck. 

He very well could get more passes for your friends, but he already flew all of you out to Bora Bora because you wanted a girls weekend. If you’d come to California with him, he knew you’d be sitting around in the hotel room for most of the day. So, he paid for the trip without any complaints (like he always does). 

“You won’t do it for me?” You whine, putting on the dramatics.

Your friends are in near hysterics, laughing at your antics. They all know how much Mingi spoils you, and they actually find it kind of sweet. You see, Mingi is the type of boyfriend who spoils you beyond reason, but he likes to pretend he isn’t a total and complete pushover (he definitely is).

“Fuck, I’ve created a monster,” Mingi chuckles, already having made up his mind. You giggle softly, twirling your hair around the end of your finger, happy that you’ve won another battle. 

On the other end, Mingi glances up to see his captain motioning him back over, signaling the end of their short break. He holds up a hand, mouthing out I'm almost done. 

Your playful giggles steal his attention back, momentarily forgetting about the lengthy practice.

A warm blush heats Mingi’s cheeks, while he listens to your kisses through the phone.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, baby!” You squeal, dancing around with a bright smile. You motion a thumbs up to your friends, all of you cheering in victory. 

“I’ll send the jet to Bora Bora tomorrow morning, so you guys can get in early,” he announces, fighting to keep the smile off his face. He can still hear your excited giggles through the phone.

“Baby, are you listening?” He playfully chides, knowing how you get tunnel vision whenever he gives you what you want.

“Private jet, Coachella, blah blah blah,” you joke, Mingi answering you with a laugh. 

You step away from your friends for a moment, heading into the villa’s primary bedroom. 

“I really am grateful, baby. I can wait to see you,” you confess, heart racing at the thought of seeing your boyfriend tomorrow. You fiddle with the Cartier love ring on your index finger, smiling at the memory of when he gifted it to you.

“Maybe I should just fly you out tonight,” he sighs, equally impatient to see you. 

“Mmmm, I would say yes buuuuuut,” Mingi huffs, "We have one more shopping day planned,” you mutter, remembering the Goyard bag you had your eye on yesterday. 

“Babe, you’ve been shopping the whole trip,” he argues, remembering the multiple notifications he got from his credit card company.

“I know, but I saw this bag yesterday and couldn’t make up my mind about it. I really want it now,” you whine, going into more detail as Mingi listens to your rambling with a smile. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” He questions, the wheels already turning in his head. 

“Of course,” you answer honestly, confused at the sudden change of subject. 

“Then, be ready for the driver to pick you up in two hours. I want you to myself for a night before your friends get here,” he asserts, the low rumble in his voice causing a warmth to spread over your body. 

You bite your lip before answering him, torn between the bag and the need to see your boyfriend as soon as possible. The both of you know which one you’ll pick in the end.

“Okay,” you sigh, “I’ll see you tonight,” a wide smile spreading across your face at the thought. 

“Good girl,” he coos, making you squirm against the plush mattress beneath you. 

“I love you, daddy,” you whisper, warmth flooding your cheeks at the title. Mingi chuckles to himself, fascinated by your sudden shyness.

“I love you too, baby girl. See you soon,” his voice is like gravel now, while he tries his best to not get carried away in public like this. 

He ends the phone call with a click, before sending a quick text to his manager. 

📱: Need a favor. Gonna need the private jet tonight and tomorrow. Also contact the Bora Bora sales associate for me. I need him to overnight a Goyard bag.

[frostyhelltime]

Hi again! I would love if you could write possesive or jealous Rosie. Whichever you prefer and feel works best. Thank you in advance!

A/N: I love our prim and proper Overlord of Cannibal Town! Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Jealous/Possessive Rosie with GN!Reader

Rosie in general is very good at maintaining her composure. After all she barely even flinched when the angel's head was taken out and thrown on the table during the Overlords meeting.

It takes a lot to get her to break that composure. Normally, anyway.

But it is possible, and it's certainly much easier when it comes to you.

There are the small times it slips through, such as when someone happened to be hitting on you while waiting for her.

She'll cheerfully call your name, even using pet names such as dear or darling while she wraps her arm around yours, very clearly trying to send a message.

To anyone else if would just seem like a show of affection. But you knew Rosie enough to know this was her way of marking her territory in a way the doesn't appear to break her composure to the general public.

But you keep that secret of hers.

One of many reasons she loves you.

Now if someone has the audacity to hit on you even after you said no, or worse, in her territory....that composure breaks just a little more obviously to the naked eye.

"Oh darlin' you're gonna have to try this newest batch of lady fingers! I think I really outdid myself this time!" Rosie's voice is all cheer and smiles as she brings out the newest thing she's made.

You of course, trust her cooking implicitly and graciously take one before taking a bite.

"Woah! It's good. Has a kick to it, but good." You nod, looking it over as if trying to figure out what the flavor was.

"Oh excellent! I wanted to surprise Al since he's finally back in town so I've been messing around with some Cajun flavors! I think I really got it on this one!" She's got such a chipper edge to her voice because she's happy she succeeded, and you can't help but smile. Rosie was always so sweet, sometimes she felt like a beacon of light in hell just for you, and from the way her citizens talked about her, you would say they agree too.

"Oh he's gonna love it, I'm sure." You smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek, which just further keeps her energy up.

"I'm gonna go ahead and bring them out so I can put them on display and start selling 'em." Rosie smiles, giddy as she leans over and presses her lips to yours in a chaste and sweet kiss.

When she comes back though you seem visibly distressed, another person's hands even on you. She quickly puts down what item was in her hand and makes a beeline to the two of you. She is still smiling but there's a heat to her eyes that is dangerous, and a slight venom in her words.

"May I ask what you're doing?" She cocks her head to the side politely, giving them a chance to apologize and learn some manners.

"Just trying to convince a sweet thing to take a chance on me."

Ah. Well. She tried.

"I think you should leave." Rosie says coldly, although she is still smiling politely.

"What? No. I'm sure I can convince them."

You are clearly not anywhere close to considering going anywhere with this person. At the person's statement Rosie just laughs, placing a hand over her chest as if she had just heard the funniest joke.

"I was not asking, dear."

The man stills a moment from how ice cold her voice is now, and he looks at her as if trying to size her up. But before he can decide what to do she's speaking again.

"If you would like to continue to overstay your welcome, I should have you know that as their Overlord, I take care of all of my souls here in Cannibal Town very diligently...and I've never been one to let them...go hungry." Her smile is still there, polite, as if she were simply asking him if he needed help with anything today. Her threat is indirect but the message is received loud and clear and they let you go, quickly making their way out.

Once they're gone Rosie relaxes, shoulders no longer tense. She turns to you, peppering your face with kisses a moment, to which you just laugh in delighted joy.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier they were harassing you."

But you quickly comfort her and tell her she came just in time. She looks worried for a split second, as if trying to figure out if you're actually okay, when you speak up.

"Why don't we go visit the hotel? Deliver these special lady fingers to Alastor personally?" You suggest, knowing Alastor's company was always a good mood boost for Rosie, and her helpful nature meant she would enjoy giving a gift to someone she cares about. So she smiles and nods, worry leaving her face as she relaxes a little more.

"Yes, I think you're right. That sounds just lovely." She agrees, holding her arm out for you to hold onto so you can both start the walk there.

[eisforeidolon]

Destiel has definitely soured my opinion on Misha especially since he continues to feed into it. It would not be so bad if he didn't make everything so sexual in relation to this ship. It seems like out of the entire cast Jensen is definitely the one who is sexualized the most and destiel fans continue to act like that is ok because JA and Misha are friends. Not one of them care how Jensen might feel if he knew they look at him at this sexual fantasy to make their ship cannon. These people are not his fans no matter how much they like to claim they are. The ship only bothers me because the fans seem unhinged. Maybe if they shipped for fun instead of trying to make a statement that none of them even believe in other fans would take them more seriously.

Yeah, the hellers have annoyed me from the start, even way back when I shipped D/C in fandom over their disregard for other fans, the show, the actors, and basically anyone who didn't see their ship as an important cause/inevitable canon rather than just a fanon ship. But there also just came a point where I could no longer give Misha the benefit of the doubt either. Not because he's talking about shipping, or even specifically a non-canon ship? That could be fine! It's because of the specific way he talks about it and how a certain loud, batshit part of the fandom reacts to what he says.

Hellers want to pretend, despite everything Jensen has consistently said over the years about not wanting to talk about shipping in general and specifically not seeing D/C as any part of his character's canon story? That it's no big deal to keep dragging him into it. Actually, he's really into D/C and RPF of him and Misha - or it's at least a-okay because they're friends!

We'll ignore the part of that which is obviously deluded self-serving fetishistic bullshit. But it also pointedly ignores that there is a world of difference between joking with someone versus making someone the butt of your jokes. Especially regarding a subject you know they want no part of. Especially when you so specifically do it where they aren't present or active. The way he talks about the ship frequently treats Jensen and/or Dean like a subservient sexual object. It's often pointedly about laughably trying to make himself sound dominant. It's often pointedly crass and vulgar. It's often dishonestly contradictory to what Jensen and others have publicly said about the ship. They want to pretend like it's friendly banter/ribbing between him and Jensen, but it clearly isn't. It doesn't have the right tone, context, or level of interaction for that. It's him performing to his audience at Jensen's (and the show's) expense. As I've said many a time in regards to Misha, with friends like that ...

The thing is, both sides of that coin are about treating Jensen like a blow up doll. Any opinion or feelings he has don't matter, he's just a vehicle to project onto in the hopes it will get them what they want. In the fanatic shippers' case, the ship made canon. In Misha's case, continued money and attention. Funny how right when he needs to re-open Cameo for extra funds, this is how Grifter McQueerbait spent a J2-less con, huh?

Which is why Misha gets no benefit of the doubt from me. He doesn't care about his supposed friend getting called a homophobe for not playing along. He doesn't care about any of his other coworkers or the network who were very good to him getting similar blowback accusations from his lies and sly imprecations. He sure as hell doesn't care about his fans as he keeps setting them up to be disappointed over and over and over again. Hell, he doesn't even care enough about any of it to be consistent from con to con, because he changes his story according to his mood and whoever else is on stage.

Hey, if he keeps getting money and attention for it and someone else always faces the consequences, why change? Friendship? Integrity? Being gainfully employable? Pfft. Who needs it! There's $$$ to be made right now, baby! So I also just think he's a fucking idiot. Although I'll give him this, I didn't think even the hellers were daft enough to keep signing up to be fleeced this transparently with the same recycled material 3+ years post-show.

[0little-miss-scare-all0]

Stuffed animals I think Dethklok would give each other

Not trying to infantilize, they all get them those fuckin man babies.

Probably cringe but I could care less honestly 😭

Not proofread suck a fart

Nathan

Pickles gets him a whale. It's a reference to the whale he'll see so maybe next time he can relate it to his stuffed animal and not worry. They also stand for strength, which adds to the overall meaning of getting over fears.

Murderface would get him a lion. He says it's a jab at how much of a perfectionist he needs to be to be proud of his work. They're also just hella fucking brutal. Lions for the win

Skwisgaar would get him some type of fish. It doesn't matter which one, just whichever he finds first. They won't be very big, just little plushies.

Toki would get him a German Shepherd. He thinks it's a cool dog and I like to think it's Nathan's favorite. He would probably get the black ones to match Nathan's hair. He likes how they're actually cute but look brutal.

Charles isn't a big giver, especially with stuffed animals. If he finds one of those brutally cute things like the baphomet plushies he'll get them. Other than that, he's just too busy to look for insanely interesting ones.

Skwisgaar

Nathan would get him that alien plush from Ikea. I don't know why that was the first thing I thought of, but it was. It's called like Aftonsparv I think. They just both find it chucklesome.

Pickles would get him a wolf. I like to think that he just obsesses over wolves sometimes and Pickles feels the need to add fuel to fire.

Murderface would get him an arctic fox. He likes to say that Skwisgaar is from the North Pole up with "Santy Claus". He also just likes them.

Toki would get him a polar bear. I just think that everyone collectively thinks that Skwisgaar is an arctic man. He's pale and has ice blue eyes so it makes sense to me.

Toki

Nathan would get him a bunny because it's his spirit animal. (Ie. The episode they aired Bloodlines, I can never remember the name)

Pickles would get him little sharks. Think Blåhaj and things related. He just thinks they're cute and Toki loves them.

Murderface would get him a tiger. He says it's better because it's like a house cat but metal. Toki would argue that house cats are quite metal, but to no avail.

Skwisgaar would get him big octopuses. He would either say it was the Kraken or Cthulhu. Whichever he felt like it being.

Pickles

Nathan would get him just that. Pickles. It would be like the Cat v Pickle plushies and if it was a cat he'd just give it to Toki or something. He thinks it's the funniest shit ever

Murderface would get him an orca. They're hella brutal and he thinks it's funny that they're actually dolphins (don't fact check me i'm pretty sure that's true)

Toki is getting him dolphins. They're the shark and dolphin duo and it's so fun. It's a gag at this point, they'll buy each other the ugliest ones.

Skwisgaar would give him a frog. He just think it fits Pickles's vibe and appearance. Not to say he's an ugly frog.

Murderface

Nathan would get him a pig. At first it seems like a jab at him, but pigs are cute! They're also known to be smart and clean, at least from what a teacher told me once.

Pickles would get him those plushies of his favorite chip bags because they're just so fun. they also crinkle because why wouldn't they.

Toki would get him lions because they're also brutal cats and he thinks he should get the same thing. Also he needs some strength in his life the poor guy.

Skwisgaar would get him a manatee. It's just an ongoing joke since the events of Doublebookedklok. They giggle about it when they get too high sometimes.

Charles

He's the gifter this time

He hates when the guys get him things because he thinks they should use their money on "more useful" things.

He'll get Nathan those Baphomet plushies. They don't have to be generally big, but if he sees one he'll get it.

Pickles would get a horse or two from him. Specially the white and black ones, considering those are the most metal horses.

Murderface would get a wrench from this son of a bitch. Not a real one like a stuffed one I hope that was clear. I think they'd both giggle a little bit.

He's also a Toki cat giver. Specifically Calico cats. If he finds one that looks like Really Cool Cat then he'll get it for sentiment.

He'll get Skwisgaar an owl. He thinks it matches him and is majestic like he is, while still kind of creepy. Also spirit animal mention.

That's it I hope you fucks enjoyed <33

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Six

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. More angst, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader, a little bit of Cassian x Reader

Summary: You go to Rita's with the IC and try to make Az jealous.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

Mor picked out a dark violet shirt that cut low to your chest and tight to your waist, with black pants that flare at the bottom. You paired with sensible black boots because you refused to wear the heels she offered.

Still, you had to admit that Mor had exquisite taste when it came to clothing. And you looked good.

You let half your hair down, soft curls falling from whatever Mor put in your hair earlier, and the other half was braided back.

If Azriel didn’t talk to you after tonight, you would be okay with not speaking with him either. No matter the almost constant tug to gain his attention when he was around you. Or your shadows whispering “Go to Him” every single time he was in the House.

You didn’t want to go to him. He didn’t want anything to do with you. So you would go out with your friends, and Azriel, tonight and then settle on what to do about your internal feelings after that. After you got very very drunk. Especially if you would have to deal with hateful Illyrians for the next two weeks. The only one you liked being Cassian, who was probably the complete opposite of hateful. He would probably be preoccupied with said hateful Illyrians.

Since you didn’t want to risk your outfit or hair getting ruined by the wind, you flew Mor up past the wards of the House and let her winnow you both to Rita’s. You could hear the music playing as you waited for the rest of them to get here. Mor tugged you inside before they arrived.

“Cassian mentioned what you said about Azriel to him.” She said as she made her way over to a booth in the corner.

“You should know, he often doesn’t warm up to those he doesn’t know… even more so than before.” She said. “So if he doesn’t speak to you, that might be why.”

“You know, it doesn’t bother me.” It definitely did. “And I couldn’t care less if he warms up to me or not.” You could. You could care a LOT less. “I’d just like some basic decency.” That was true.

“Just give him more of a chance. And you’ll see…” she trailed off before noticing the rest of her family entering through the doors.

“You don’t even have drinks yet?” Cassian grumbled and made his way over to the bar, pulling Azriel with him to get the table drinks.

“I’d say we’re evenly fit this evening. Three males and three females. Who gets to dance with Amren?” Mor joked as the two winged males came back with drinks.

“You’d all be lucky to dance with me.” She said and took the one cup that wasn’t made of glass. You could smell the blood from the other side of the table. Rhys mentioned that the owner tended to have Amren’s favorite ‘meal’ most times that they came.

Averting your eyes, you took a glass from Cassian and looked towards where some of the other patrons were dancing. “Do no other Illyrians live here?” You asked and turned towards the table. “We’re the only three with wings.” I said.

“It’s still a secret to everyone, even the Illyrians. They all think we live in the palace in Hewn City.” Rhys said. “And the Court of Nightmares doesn’t care where we go when we aren’t in the palace.” He said and smiled a bit.

“Right, I suppose that makes sense.” You said and sipped on your drink, smiling when the table erupted in conversation. Eventually, Mor pulled you up to dance and you laughed. You weren’t much of a dancer, and you certainly knew that you looked ridiculous. But you were here to have fun tonight. So, wings tucked in, and shadows swirling around you as you swayed, that’s what you did. Mor and you made your way further into the crowd, finding your own companions to dance with. Cassian eventually joined in and stole both of you away to dance, and also gave you more drinks.

All the while, Azriel was sulking in the booth, watching the two females he couldn’t express his feelings to have a good time. With his brother. Rhys got up and grabbed Azriel by the elbow. “You don’t get to brood. Come on, we’re all having fun tonight. Even Amren’s dancing.” He said and pulled Azriel out of the booth.

“I’m not brooding,” Azriel mumbled, his eyes drifting over to you as you danced beside Cassian. “I’m just not in the mood to dance.” He said.

“Because you’ve got an itch that you refuse to scratch?” Rhys teased and nudged him towards the dance floor. “Talk to her. Or someone. Just don’t bring our mood down… if you don’t say something soon, she might go home with someone else.” He said before he waved a hand, joined the others, and grabbed Mor’s hand to twirl her around.

Cassian slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned down. “You want to make the other Shadowsinger jealous?” He murmured in your ear. You turned towards him. If anyone outside the Inner Circle would look at you, they’d think you were together.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked and trailed your fingers slowly up his arm, resting it on his shoulder.

“Hmm… can I trust you to follow my lead?” He asked and glanced over to the band, nodding his head. Like they knew exactly what he was planning.

“I suppose…” You said with a small smirk.

And just like that, Cassian had his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. He had a good few inches on you, just a few short of a foot. The way his hands roamed your body made you second guessing if he was actually trying to make Azriel jealous, or was just trying to seduce you. You liked Cassian, but he was much more of a big brother type than anything else.

Still, you swayed your body to the music, hands going over his biceps, shoulders, and up to his hair. You made sure you kept on a sultry smirk, and looked him dead in the eyes. It was a mischievous look to him, but to anyone else it would look like lust. To the other Shadowsinger, hopefully.

And you kept at it, messing with each other all night as you downed drink after drink. Eventually, you leaned against Cassian, more because you couldn’t exactly stand upright than because you were trying to be close to him.

You’d gotten so caught up in your scheme you didn’t see Azriel storm off about an hour earlier. He most certainly did not have a good time tonight watching you practically mount his brother. The one that every woman he liked chose over him. 

Of course, you also didn’t notice he was gone. While you stumbled your way up the town home walkway into the home itself with Cass, Rhys, and Mor, it was the latter who brought up the brooding male.

“Where’s Az?” She said and looked over her shoulder.

“Left a while ago.” Rhys merely drawled as he stumbled in the house, then winnowed up to his own bedroom.

“Of course.” You mumbled as Cassian let you go so you could crash on the couch. “I don’t think our plan worked.” You said, taking a glass of water that appeared on the table.

“Plan? You two weren’t trying to grope each other all night because you wanted in the other’s pants?” Mor asked, slumping against the chair.

“No. Azriel doesn’t want to talk to me so I wanted to show him what he was missing.” You said, leaning your head back on the arm of the couch. 

“I think we did too good of a job… Az might get a little jealous, but I should’ve remembered that when it comes to me… it tends to dig deeper.” Cassian said and looked at Mor.

“If he’s here in the morning, I’m going to say something. I think. I might have a horrible headache and not get out of bed till noon… also… where is my bed? I haven’t slept here.” You said and sat up, the living room spinning for a few moments.

“Come on,” Cassian said and stood up, holding out his arm for you to take. You stood up, bracing yourself with his arm as you did. You let out a giggle when he picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cass!” You squealed.

“You can’t walk, you can barely stand.” He said, swaying himself as he made his way up the stairs.

“If you drop me, I’ll gut you.” You said and let him carry you up the stairs, your head still spinning.

“If you vomit on me, I’ll gut you.” He teased back. You looked up and could see Mor trailing behind you, laughing as you exchanged retorts.

It wasn’t every day that someone new was accepted into their group. But here you were, bantering with Cassian as if you’d been a part of their family for years. She knew that you’d been a support for Rhys when he was Under the Mountain, so maybe you had been a part of the family longer than she had thought. They just didn’t know it until now.

And Mor liked you. She could also sense Azriel’s shift from longing after her to you. It was odd. Not having to have Cassian act as a buffer between her and Az because she couldn’t muster courage to tell him the truth. To let him down. But now maybe this would change that. Maybe she could finally tell them.

Unless Azriel didn’t move, unless he kept avoiding you. She would have to talk to him. See what was going on in that shadowy mind of his. Ask why he’s been ignoring you when you seemed so right for him. If the shadows didn’t swirl around you, if you didn’t disappear in the dark just as Azriel did, she wouldn’t think you were a Shadowsinger. After the first week of you being brought here, you were bright. You had such a new view on things, wanting to learn more about what you’d been sheltered from your whole life. Every time you came from training with Cassian, your smile was bigger. And Mor admired it. She knew you’d been through so much, much more than Mor felt like she’s been through herself, but you were still so happy to have this new life. If you weren’t, Mor couldn’t tell.

It was for that reason that Mor thought you were perfect for Azriel. You were strong, and everything that’s been thrown at you has only made you stronger. Azriel needed that. He’s gotten through so much, from his childhood to the Illyrian training to the war. But he sulks in his shadows, where you shine in them. Mor knew he needed someone who could pull him out and make him see that there was more to this life than just pain and suffering. You could give that to them.

Maybe you would really talk to him tomorrow before you left for Windhaven. Or maybe you’d start ignoring him and bound the two of you to years of pining without actually doing anything. Mor hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to see Azriel go further into the shadows and avoid the female he cares about again. And she didn’t want that for you either. You both deserved to be happy. Hopefully together. 

The next morning you woke up, your mouth laden with dryness and your head pounding. You had to go to Windhaven this afternoon. If it was even still the morning. You turned in your bed, groaning at the light. Your shadows immediately covered the open window when you flicked your hand towards it. Being a hungover Shadowsinger had its perks. 

How did you even get into this bed? You were in the town home, which surprised you since you’d never spent a night here. You’d barely had dinner here yet. And when did you change into a nightgown? You never wore nightgowns. 

“You got that from me,” you heard from the door, groaning as light poured in. You went to move your shadows but stopped when you saw Mor. “I gave you the nightgown last night. You changed rather quickly before passing out on the bed. You still had your boots on.” She said and smiled. “Come on, we’ve got a tonic that’ll make you feel better in an hour. You need food too.” She said and new clothes appeared on the dresser. 

“Ten minutes. Azriel’s downstairs, so prepare yourself for that.” She said before turning and shutting the door. 

You sighed and rolled out of your bed, drinking the water that appeared at your night stand. You stretched out your wings as well as your body, and then went into the bathing room to freshen up. Once you had changed and put your hair in a loose braid, you padded down the stairs. The shadows and lightness of your feet covering you when you entered the room. Azriel’s eyes were on you immediately, though no one else seemed to notice your presence yet. 

“Have a fun night with the commander?” He snapped and heat rose to your neck. Who did he think he was to ask about your night? He was the one who left and didn’t do anything about it! 

Deciding to push your anger (and pettiness) aside, you gave him a sly smirk. “I had a fun night with my friends. Not that you came close enough to experience it.” You said, sliding into a chair next to Rhys. 

Azriel looked at you for a few moments before you heard a near whisper of a growl from his throat. 

“Play nice,” Rhys warned, looking over to Azriel. 

You took the tonic that appeared in front of you so you could get rid of the pounding in your head. Your shadows might have been swirling around your eyes just to keep the sun from hitting you too brightly. 

“When do we leave for Windhaven?” You asked after downing the tonic, then dug into the breakfast in front of you. Everyone was at the table today. You realized this was the first morning you’d spent at the town home. And you liked it. 

“At noon. And we’ll work on your training once we’re there. It’ll be good for the females to see you do well. And for the males to understand that females can do good as well.” Cassian answered. 

You hummed and listened to the rest of them fall into conversation. You glanced over to Rhys and frowned, seeing his eyes glow with what looked like agony. You lowered your shields enough to speak to him. 

“I know you’re listening. What’s wrong?” You asked mind to mind, keeping your eyes on your food. You felt him glance over to you for a moment before his eyes went to where he was looking before. 

“Something’s come up in the Spring Court. Something is wrong with Feyre.” He answered and you hid your frown as you took a sip of water. 

“Wrong? She’s gone through hell and she’s a newly anointed High Fae. Is she okay? Hurt?” You tried to calm him, but your shadows whispered to you that he was worried. You never understood how they could tell a person's emotions. Sometimes they couldn’t, but if it was strong enough, you supposed they could sense it. 

“Hurting. And Tamlin is letting her waste away.” He trailed off and then cleared his throat before joining in on the conversation in front of him. 

If you had the abilities that Azriel had, you would send your shadows to check on her. Tell them to report back to see if she was okay. But they couldn’t go as far as the Spring Court. They couldn’t even go as far as Illyria. 

Of course, under Amarantha, you winnowed anywhere you needed to. The villagers or enemies knew you well enough by the shadows to determine who you were. And what you needed to know. 

You were never very good at getting information out of the villagers, but a lot of them were so afraid of the stories that spread of you they gave it up immediately. You hated that you were so feared that they didn’t even try to lie to you. Like you had Rhy’s ability to destroy their minds. Your shadows could only tell you so much… and when they didn’t tell you enough, Amarantha made you torture them. That’s where the stories came from. That’s what most of your nightmares were rooted in too. 

So you could only hope that one day, Azriel would teach you how to use your shadows properly. Maybe you could learn how to use them for good. And not for spying. Not for torture. For helping people. 

For so many years, they were used to help you survive with loneliness. And then to help you and your family survive Amarantha… But now both of those things were drifting away and you were afraid that your shadows soon would too. They would leave you because you no longer needed them. Or at least, that’s what you were afraid of. They were a comfort you didn’t think you ever wanted to let go of. You hoped that you never had to. All the books you found about Shadowsinger, none of them helped you understand your powers more. That’s why you wanted to talk to Azriel. Wanted to train with him. He had a grip on them much more than you did. 

Soon enough your headache was gone and you were in your leathers, a large coat over back covered the top. It was from Mor, who said you would need it. Even if the early winter was still mild in Velaris, it was going to be worse in Illyria. 

You knew that, of course, but you took the coat anyway. You knew it would be helpful. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, protesting when Rhys took it and put it in that pocket between realms. 

“I can take my own stuff.” You said and nudged him. He gave you a sly smile and shrugged. 

“You don’t have to. Plus, you’ll be visiting Lord Devlon first. You don’t need the bag with you.” He said simply. 

“Is Azriel going to grace us with his presence at all while we are in Windhaven?” You asked, looking at Rhys. 

Rhys gave you something reminiscent of a sad smile, if he didn’t have a scheming glint in his violet eyes. “Maybe, but probably not.” He said. “I do have him doing his spying. He’s been in Velaris for 50 years. He’s got a few things needing to be reestablished.” He said. 

You hummed and spotted Cassian standing at the door talking to Mor. “You really trust me enough to go there?” You asked. “And be an emissary? What if I’m horrible?” You asked. 

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are capable of handing every male in that camp their asses.” Rhys winked. “And you’re a Shadowsinger. Devlon might even be upset that I didn’t send you right to him to train… but you won’t be training there. Not unless you want to.” He said. 

You snorted. “Gods no… I’m going to be miserable enough training there when I’m with Cass… without him, I don’t know what I’d do.” You said and spotted at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Rhys. “Thanks for believing in me.” You said. 

“Thank you for believing in me. Not many people will understand your allegiance with me.” He said. 

“Damn them, then,” You said. “You’re the only High Lord I know that truly did everything he could to help his people. And I don’t know what they were like before the war, but the news ones… they are nothing like you, Rhysand.” You said and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “They’ll never even reach the level of respect I have for you.” You said and smiled before stepping back. 

“Alright, Cass, let’s get going before I change my mind.” You said and held out your hand for Mor to take. You weren’t entirely sure where Windhaven was, so Mor would winnow you there first. 

“See you in two weeks, my Lord.” You teased and shot Rhys a wink before Mor winnowed you and Cassian to Windhaven.

A/N: I like this chapter a lot, other than Az being stupid and not saying anything. But alas, we need the angst...

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[pagannatural]

2.13 Houses of the Holy

- Religious plot begins in earnest. Sam is Able and Eve and original sin and also Christ dying for those sins. He is Dean’s disciple. Dean is Cain and Adam and the Holy Spirit and God. Their conflict is destiny/blood/family vs free will/choice/love, the pure vs the tainted vs the merely human. The muddy non-dichotomous nature of love and of good and evil.

So far the question of the brothers saving each other and the world has been self-contained: only Dean can save or kill Sam, and in doing so, himself. In other words only Sam can succumb to evil and damn his brother or retain his humanity and his brother. Their struggle is religious by definition. Religion in supernatural is characterized by the trinity of good, evil, and human, and the brothers are twin souls who need each other to stay human. Sam needs to overcome his shame and belief that he isn’t chosen, that he doesn’t belong; Dean needs to overcome his guilt and belief that he can never be enough. The threat of them losing their humanity and free will is literal as they will learn they’re destined to become vessels, but they don’t know that yet.

- Dean is lying on the motel bed listening to “Hair of the Dog”. Right when Sam walks in these lyrics are playing in his ears:

Heartbreaker, soul shaker/I've been told about you/Steamroller, midnight stroller/What they've been saying must be true

These lyrics pertain to Sam and his fate. This song was chosen very intentionally, it’s shown on Dean’s iPod screen. It’s foreshadowing. And Sam is Dean’s heartbreaker soul shaker.

Sam stands there next to a partition decorated with burlesque silhouettes of women, watching Dean’s body being shaken on the bed. It’s kind of a weird image. Dean looks like sleeping beauty the way the bed is lit. Or like a main course.

“You’re enjoying that way too much, it’s kind of making me uncomfortable” Sam says while looking up at the wall behind Dean exactly like he did when he was trying to avoid staring at Dean’s ass in an earlier episode. Very heaven-help-me.

His discomfort seems like attraction. I want to break down this scene because it’s played as a joke, like it’s funny that Dean is so hedonistic, but he’s essentially just using the massage function on the bed. He’s fully clothed and he’s listening to music, just chilling. He’s bored. So the joke is either that this isn’t really that intimate and yet Sam is so uncomfortable for Some Reason that he’s having a hard time looking straight at Dean, or that Sam really has walked in on an intimate moment and he responds by staring and going up to Dean all flustered and asking him to stop. Either way, Sam is watching Dean experience pleasure, and gulping because of it.

It highlights that Sam is uninterested in sex, and food, and pleasure in general, and it bothers him that Dean is. Sam later calls it Dean’s “sick habit” and tells him he’s like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies.

I noticed recently that even in the pilot, Sam is shown kissing Jessica and acting loving with her, but the shot of them in bed has them apart and Sam facing away from her in his sleep. It’s Dean who ogles her in her underwear. Sam has been shown clinging to Dean, sleeping facing him, checking him out, and chastising him for his womanizing. The one woman he kissed was for Dean’s benefit. Sam’s relationship with his sexuality is consistently shown linked directly to Dean. Maybe exclusively to Dean at this point.

After this exchange, Sam goes into the bathroom and washes his hands for Some Reason. Because he’s feeling unclean?

-interesting how the killers’ houses shake like there’s an earthquake before what they think is an angel appears to them- the second guy is even lying on his bed when it starts shaking. Dean is on his shaking bed when Sam appears to him at the motel, like Sam is his angel.

-Dean says Sam has him on lockdown. So Sam insisted that Dean stay back for his safety. He’s looking out for him, always asking Dean to stay safe.

-Sam believes in angels and god because of the monsters they hunt, Dean doesn’t believe in angels or god because of the monsters they hunt. The difference in the way their beliefs developed is that Dean believed in angels as a small child until his mom burned to death and he learned monsters are real, whereas Sam was certainly never encouraged to believe in religion and had to find something to cling to in the chaos and uncertainty of how he was raised. Sam felt unclean or like something was wrong with him so he tried to separate himself from the monsters. Dean believed he wasn’t good enough so he chose not to believe in a god that was a disappointment and that he believed he would surely disappoint.

- Sam tells Dean he prays every day, which Dean didn’t know. He acts like this is some kind of betrayal. I think the betrayal is literally just that he didn’t know and he wants to know every single thing about Sam.

-Sam collapses after seeing what he thinks is an angel, and Dean gets on his knees to put both hands on him. He keeps touching him when they’re walking out. He hauls Sam to his feet bodily.

This frame is so good because Dean is glaring at the angel statue and Sam is looking up at Dean.

Sam wants to be chosen by an angel. He thinks that would mean he’s good. He felt left behind and second-best by his dad, and felt that Dean would choose hunting and John over him for much of his life. He realizes now that Dean chooses him.

-Dean makes sure the woman he saves is okay and has a cell phone and tells her to call 911 before he runs after her assailant. He cares more about the wellbeing of the victim than he does about catching the bad guy.

-when Sam says “you were right” Dean gives him this look that’s so full of love, it’s plain that Dean doesn’t care about being right. He just sees his little brother in pain and wants to make it better.

-Sam sits down so that he’s looking up at Dean during their conversation. He has tears in his eyes talking about wanting to be saved. Dean tells Sam “I’m watching out for you”

Sam doesn’t doubt Dean’s dedication to him and desire to protect him. But doesn’t think Dean can save him, and more importantly he’s afraid he can’t save himself. He sees Dean as fundamentally good and strong but he also harbors judgment toward Dean for needing him. It’s protective for Sam to not need anyone, which is why his arc deals with the isolation of shame. Religion can’t save him because it doesn’t make him believe he is good, and because ultimately it leaves him alone.

-Dean tells him that he witnessed “God’s will” the way that the perp was just killed in front of him. He’s letting himself hope and giving Sam hope. They’ve both seen so much chaos and evil, they need to believe there’s good and meaning in the world. Dean’s doubt challenges his beliefs about the world and himself, and it’s his words that give Sam the hope he needs.

-episode is about lost souls and purpose. A series of people who the show depicts as lost are given a sense of meaning and belonging to something bigger than themselves, but the problem is that they don’t question it—they simply obey, acting as if without free will. They’re wrong, but they’re happy and full of certainty. Sam and Dean are lost too, but they’re unable to have blind unquestioning faith. The result is that they do good: Dean protects and shows kindness to a woman who was attacked, Sam facilitates a way for a spirit to be put to rest. But they have doubt, which means they also have fear. And they’re left knowing that they have themselves and each other. It’s meant to be complicated and frightening and painful because that’s what it means to be human, and that’s where love and compassion live.

[lolathestoryteller]

mission (im)possible (April 30th prompt; Rational) @jilymicrofics

Lily shares a quick look with James, both of them now seated at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place, facing their son.

Their almost seventeen years old son.

“So…what’s up Snitch?” James asks, and as always, he seems perfectly able to keep his grin on, although Lily knows they both feel uneasy.

In fact, they’d both hardly been able to think of anything other than this moment for the entire day, ever since Harry’s asked them about a chat after dinner.

Now, he looks just as worried as them. Though, Lily would think that that’s hardly possible.

“I’ve got a plan.” he replies his Dad, clasping his hands together on the table. “And…you probably won’t like it.”

Lily purses her lips. She is already sure she won’t like it. “A plan?” she asks, raising her brow. “What for?”

It’s unnecessary really, to ask that, for it could only ever be one thing, yet Lily still hopes it wouldn’t be that.

Anything but that.

James stirs next to her, leaning onto his elbows. “You’re not dropping out, kid, are you?” he jokes, chuckling amusedly—

Until they both see the sinister look on Harry’s face.

James falls quiet at once, glancing over at her before he looks back at their son. “You’re not—“

“I am.” Harry‘s decisive voice cuts James off. “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

Lily can only stare back at him — at the boy, their boy, with way too many burdens, all unjustly placed upon his young shoulders. It’s painfully overwhelming, because she still remembers, like it was yesterday, how he used to be so much smaller. How he’d held onto her hand whilst going out, or asked for bedtime stories and good night cuddles.

Lily’s heart clenches. How fast did the years pass? Spiting any rational thought, she can’t help but wish she could have frozen time, just for a little while.

Because now, she can’t help but mourn for the carefree little boy Harry had been. How could she not? When her son looks so utterly worn and tired these days.

“You don’t have to,” James protests, and Lily can hear the frustration clear in his voice.

She places her hand upon his arm to calm him, whilst her eyes bore intently into Harry‘s. “Why do you think that?” she asks him calmly.

Harry looks away, towards the small kitchen window. “I…can’t tell you.”

James sighs, before he takes Harry‘s hand into his over the table. “Yes, you can. Common Snitch, you know we want to help.” he tries. “Tell us.”

Lily nods her head eagerly. “Your Dad’s right, love.” she adds, taking his other hand. “You can tell us.”

For a moment, when their son‘s green eyes flicker up to look at her and James, he seems so close to tell them — tell them everything that’s been worrying him so much. But it’s too fleeting a moment for Lily to even be sure she hadn’t just imagined it.

“I can’t.” he insists instead, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

Lily can see the truly apologetic look in his eyes, though that doesn’t help to ease her worries.

“I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t.”

Dumbledore?

Lily’s eyes flutter closed for just a second, as she silently curses the man that, although he’d always been a good friend, had more than once now disappointed her.

Even in death, his mysterious plans still seem to be continued, with Harry as their main act — which goes against everything she and James have wanted for their boy.

James’s hand clutches into a fist on the table. “What?” he asks angrily. “Why would he want you to promise him that?”

He’s angry. Lily can tell that he’s so very short of raising his voice. She can understand him for it too, for she feels just as frustrated.

Harry on the other hand remains almost stoically calm. “Because he knew it wouldn’t help if I did,” he explains. “You can’t help me this time.”

And just like that, Lily’s resolve crumbles.

“Don’t say that.” she argues fiercely, her unnaturally pitched tone a clear reflection of her own despair.

“Mum, it’s fine—“ Harry sighs tiredly, as though he’d known this would happen. As though no matter what Lily says, he’d already made up his mind.

“It’s far from fine!” she retorts anyways, fighting best she can the sudden feeling of tears in her eyes. “I don’t care what Albus told you. We can help, and we will.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but Lily’s too deeply upset to let him. “You can’t just decide to do this on your own, Harry. I won’t let you. We’re in this together, we’ve always been—“

“We’ve never been in it together!” Harry interrupts, jumping to his feet.

Lily can’t help but flinch, her words dying on her tongue as she stares at him, utterly shocked by his uncharacteristic outburst. She can’t recall him ever reacting like this in her presence before.

“Harry,” James warns. “Don’t talk to your Mum like that.”

But Harry only shoots him a quick look, ignoring his warning, before his blazing eyes lock with her’s once more. “You can’t help me.” he insists. “And you should stop trying to convince yourselves otherwise.”

His words rip Lily’s heart into shreds. Not only because he’d said it with such unwavering conviction, but because deep down, Lily knows he’s right.

It hurts worse than any torture curse ever could.

“Harry!” James exclaims loudly, standing up as well.

“What?” he bites back, but where any other person might see anger, Lily now sees her son‘s very best attempt to steel himself.

It’s better they’d be angry with him, rather than heartbroken, before he’d leave. Suddenly, it all makes sense.

Slowly, she stands up, and without another word, walks around the table until she’s just an arm’s length away from her son. “You don’t have to go.” she says quietly, tears once again filling her eyes. “Please, sweetheart.”

Harry turns away from James to look at her with sad, but unwavering eyes. “Mum—“

“No, please,” Lily repeats quickly, taking hold of his arms. “We’ll figure it out. I promise. You can’t— Dumbledore could be wrong.” she implies, biting her lower lip. “I can’t let you go.”

It’s finally out. Lily can’t let go, not when there’s a chance that she’d never—

“I can’t let you risk your life.” she says fiercely, as she pulls him closer to her, until their foreheads almost touch.

“Like you did?” Harry asks knowingly.

Lily curses her son‘s wit in that moment. “It’s different,” she argues, although she knows that really, it isn’t different at all. “I wanted to protect you—“

“I know.” Harry smiles slightly. “And now, I can finally return the favour.”

[baby-xemnas]

thinking about how the last time we see law and bepo in chapter 1081, law is barely conscious and bepo is in tears, begging for law to not die, to hold on. how in the very last panel it looks like bepo, in his desperation to get law to safety, has been forced to dive underwater with law on his back, and he must know how risky that is- but the risk of blackbeard seeing them on the water’s surface is higher, so bepo can’t stay above water the whole time, until he can find a safe spot for them to hide. the sheer terror bepo must feel because the likelihood of law drowning is high too, with bepo possibly having to dive underwater and resurface intermittently, and bepo is so scared, he doesn’t know how long a severely injured and barely conscious law will be able to hold his breath, if law is even still awake and hearing bepo talk to him, but bepo can’t afford to slow down because blackbeard and co. are too close by and might catch up to them. thinking about how bepo is probably so exhausted from the fight (who knows what side effects force inducing sulong form without the full moon could potentially have on his body) trying his hardest not to pass out, his vision going spotty, but he can’t won’t let his captain down, and it’s like a countdown in bepo’s head, a race against the clock, to get to a safe spot where he can temporarily stop and check on law. and with each passing second bepo is filled with even more panic at the worst case scenario. thinking about law being unresponsive when they do reach a temporary safe spot (maybe like a small island or a shipwreck idk), and bepo having to perform cpr on law and just how terrifying those few moments would be for bepo, when law isn’t breathing, bepo crying and pleading for his captain to come back to him

HOLY FUCK DUDE

god i didnt even think about the Law holding his breath part being so scary (i only saw jokes abt it lol) you are so smart...

fuck fuck fuck

and these are the tough decisions Bepo has to make for his captain - because Law is incapacitated and Bepo is going against captain's wishes - his instincts really - to stay with the crew. Law cannot, will not even THINK to prioritize his own life - Bepo has to do it for him and save him. Captain had given it his all, 100% and then some - to win, then to simply survive and save their family - it wasn't enough.

Oh this is getting me so fucking emotional i want to cry, because Bepo, sweet and wonderful Bepo has risen to the occasion because of course he did...push really did has come to shove and he really mother bear-ed it. Wow

And the craziest part is what he says - we've been through bad times, we got through them and we will get through this too - he's learned from times of crisis that they had - but it was never like THIS. Never this devastating. Never to the point where LAW was incapacitated...One can imagine Bepo moving on instinct

Great ask thank you so much i nearly cried while making soup

[m0rpheusm0th]

Morpheus Relationship Headcannons

I have a series coming soon, here's something small to hold y'all over. We need more sandman content on here.

 Let's start off by saying that this man loves you totally and completely. Anything you are insecure about he sees as perfect. Because of this, he will never use his powers to alter your appearance. Instead, he will help you to overcome your insecurities.

The only exception to this is if you are trans. If this is the case, he will give you gender affirming alterations. This will not include weight and things like that.

My man lives for simple domestic things. Come up behind him and give him a hug when he's talking with Lucien, brush a stray feather from his cloak, bring him snacks during long, tiring meetings. Sure he doesn’t need to eat, but he is very starved of affection and relishes in acts that show him how much you care.

He loves to spoil you. He’s very bad at words, so he will show how much he loves you by giving you gifts no mortal man could. It’s not like he just absentmindedly pulls hins out of the fabric whenever he wants, he really takes his time with each gift. He’ll spend hours shaping each and every one to perfection. You deserve nothing less than the best.

Going off of that, his proposal? Oh my gods. He spends months crafting the ring. He would finish one design, then spot one slight imperfection and scrap the whole thing. It needed to be as perfect as you, but he eventually learned that wasn’t possible, and settled for the best he could get. (Let me know if you guys want an entire set of headcannons on your and Morpheus’s engagement/wedding. I have severe brain rot).

Please for the love of the gods call him by his name. Not my lord or Dream, but Morpheus. Pet names are okay (Darling, Love, or anything that has to do with an inside joke are his favorites) but nothing tops the sound of your voice saying his name.

If you choose to live in the dreaming with him, you will share his quarters. He’ll let you do anything to alter them to make them more comfortable for you. He loves to walk into the once bare rooms to find a new plant added to the collection by the windows, or a stack of books next to the overflowing shelves.

On that thought, he loves seeing the remnants of you throughout the dreaming. A notateted bookmark in the pages of a book he hasn't opened in months, a jacket forgotten on a chair in the library. Or, if you're an artist like me, smudges of dried paint on desks or a crumpled up sketch in the dining hall. 

If you choose to spend the day in the mortal world, then he will provide you with the house of your dreams. Again, he loves to spoil you. 

After Lucien and Deaths encouragement, he finally learns to give you less extravagant gifts as well. Maybe every once in a while you’ll even find simple handwritten notes. Often, they are book recommendations or something small like that. His handwriting is either very elegant or very messy. No inbetween.

Very old fashioned lover. Holds the door for you, leaves you flowers at your doorstep, covers the corners of sharp tables with his hands when you lean down. 

I’ve talked about gift giving, but I think his main love language would be quality time.  He’s a very busy man, and doesn’t have the time to spend on a lot of one on one with you. Please please please sit with this man while he works and do your own thing. Lay across his lap as he studies in the library, come with him as he visits various dreams across his domain. Spend as much time with him as you can, even if he can’t give you his full attention. I promise it will pay off.

If you have a period, you will be completely cared for. You’ll be relieved of all your duties (if you have any in the dreaming) and get to relax in Morpheus's unfairly comfortable bed. You’ll have heating pads, painkillers, and food galore. Anything you could possibly want he provides. He will spend every moment he can with you (as if he doesn’t already). 

If you get along with Death, that’s automatic bonus points for you. Same with Hob, but more so with the former. Death absolutely loves you, and tries to knock some sense into Morpheus whenever he’s being petty or oblivious. She is also the one who convinced him to ask you out in the first place, if you weren’t the one to initiate it.

Speaking of his siblings, the only other one he would want you to meet is Delirium. If you treat her like an endless and give her the proper respect, that is another huge green flag in his eyes. She will really love you if you’re willing to hold friendly conversations with her.

He’s very bad at communicating. You need to force him to sit down and have a civil conversation when there’s a problem, and he often ignores or blows you off. Just keep pushing it, and he will eventually get it through his thick skull. Often, you will recruit Death to help you. 

Despite being one of the most powerful creatures to ever exist, he is incredibly insecure. Please give him reassurance whenever you can. Tell him that you love him and that he’s everything you could ever want and more. 

Overall, he’s a dense but incredibly caring lover

Let me know if you guys want more :)))

[berryzxx]

OMG HI. Could youu pleease do a Matheo x reader. So the reader and Matheo are fake dating to make their parents happy or something? I would really like that because I LOVE ur writing!! I understand if u can't.

Faking it

(part 1)

Mattheo x reader

Summary: You and Mattheo pretend to date because your parents won't stop pestering you and girls won't stop falling over themselves to get to Mattheo

note: ignore the title its not very.........smart

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Mattheo asked putting his quill down and kicking his legs up onto the desk. History of Magic was the perfect time to sit and chat with your friends and catch up on missed gossip.

I shrugged "It's the ball tomorrow so probably getting lectured by my dear mother" A tradition since I was 12. To nag ask me to bring a date with me to the ball. This year was especially important because I hadn't brought anyone with me last year and my mother was not impressed.

Mattheo rolled his eyes "Please. You've got it easy"

I raised an eyebrow. What was he complaining about? "And what's troubling you so much?"

He sighed dramatically "All I here is everywhere I go is do you have a date for the ball? A guy can't even eat breakfast in peace"

I scoffed. He was always so unnecessarily dramatic.

"Well. Do you?" It's not like I was wanting it to be me, I was just genuinely interested. Curious. Not at all wondering who the girl was and what Matheo's standards and type was.

"Of course I don't. All the girls that come up to me are sluts who want me to take them to my dorm after"

I shrug "At least they have the confidence to ask. You'll be left with no one soon enough"

Mattheo rolled his eyes as if what I was saying was utterly ridiculous "There's always someone. And anyways I could always go with you"

I paused. The voices in the classroom had become a background noise in my mind. I looked at Mattheo, trying to see if he was making a joke out of all this. I could usually tell because of how his lips would always pull into a small smirk but this time he was utterly serious.

"Us two?" I asked. I don't know why I said that. Maybe it was to make sure I had heard him right.

"Yeah. It would get those girls off my back and your parents will probably be happy you've found a good looking guy like me"

I rolled my eyes, trying to act like this wasn't something I was excited about or wanted to do "Someone thinks highly of themselves"

Matheo's eyes had glazed over as if he was in deep thought about something. His hand was tapping his knee in a constant rhythm and his eyebrows were scrunched in concentration. It was quiet cute to watch, honestly.

"Y'know. My idea wasn't so bad."

I raise an eyebrow "Your ideas are always bad. Which one are you talking about this time?"

He moved closer to me so I could hear his quiet voice "Me and you. We could go to the ball together. Pretend to date for a while and then act like it didn't work out between us."

My heart beat's pace increased. Why was it increasing? I'd love to tell you but I didn't know either. Maybe it was the fact that I wouldn't mind getting closer to Mattheo. Or maybe the fact that I knew if I accepted his idea I would be heartbroken by the end of it.

"But once we break up I'm just going to have to find another guy" I tried explaining. I did want to go along with his idea but I didn't want to seem too desperate. Also I don't think my parents saw Mattheo as a great influence.

He rolled his eyes acting as if I was the dumb one "Just pretend your going through an emotional...breakdown or something. And by then you'll be able to find someone you like. It's not as if anyone would reject you" He said all this with a serious tone, as if he wasn't telling me to keep a lie going to my family but also probably break my heart in the process. I skipped over the last bit of what he said because if I thought of it for too long I would become obsessed with it and that probably wasn't a good idea.

"I'll think about it" I finally decided. I already knew what my answer was but I didn't need his ego to inflate even more...also because I had pride in myself and wasn't about to cave to on of his ideas so quickly.

*a few hours later*

"Why do you ask to play if you know your going to lose?" I asked Theo feeling slightly bad for him at this point. It was our fifth game of cards and he had lost all of them. He rolled his eyes "I'm helping pass time so you should be thanking me" It was just after our last lesson of the day and we were all in the common room or out in the gardens waiting for supper. Luckily exams weren't anywhere close so I could use this time however I wanted.

I smiled slightly at Theo's disgruntled expression "Right"

Handing out the cards again I picked up my pile and spread them out looking for a diamond. I picked out two debating on which one, choosing the nine of diamonds when I heard a slight noise behind me.

"I wouldn't go for that. I've seen Theo's cards and he's going to get you back if you put that nine down" It was Mattheo. He had taken a seat next to me on a stool having seemingly finished the shouting match he was having with Draco a few minutes ago.

I glared at him in annoyance "You've just told Theo what card I have!" Was he being deliberately annoying or did he not know how card games worked?

A slight smirk on his expression told me he was being irritating on purpose "Don't be mad at me darling. It was a mistake" He had gotten closer to me now his proximity too much for me. Luckily Theo caused a commotion by throwing his cards onto the table, me and Mattheo both turning to look at him.

"I'm not playing anymore. I've had enough of losing y/n" He said dramatically, getting up and sticking up his middle finger at Mattheo before leaving. What was wrong with everyone today?

Mattheo let out a sigh "Finally. Have you decided then?" His voice had changed to being serious within seconds, his teasing smile gone.

I knew what he was talking about but all the same I furrowed my brows and acted confused "decided what?" It was his turn to frown as he moved even closer to me "The fake dating thing? Your memory needs fixing sweetheart" He said quietly waiting for my response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn't look him in the eyes when he said names like that. Would saying yes lead to me having a broken heart and in a lot of trouble if my parents found out? Yes. But was I doing it anyways? Yes.

"My memory doesn't need fixing" I rolled my eyes but continued on "And fine I'll do it"

Mattheo grinned "Fucking finally" He got up and pressed a kiss to my cheek "I'll see you later. If anyone asks tell them your taken" He walked away out of the common room and to who knows where. I lightly touched where he had kissed my cheek. Was this going to be normal now? Him just kissing me any time of day? Not that I minded.

I looked around the common room to see a few girls in my year already walking over to me, raising their eyebrows. They were probably going to ask what the kiss was about and I'd have to tell them I was dating..... realisation hit me.

Mattheo hadn't kissed me because he wanted to but so the others could see and would come and ask me. He was smart. I would give him that but it did hurt my feelings slightly.

After a lot of explaining how me and Mattheo got together and lying for three hours straight I slipped into my bed earlier than usual, staring at my dress for the next night. It was a dark green almost the exact shade of our Slytherin robes except in silk. I turned to my other side wishing I hadn't eaten so much dessert because it still didn't seem digested to me. I could hear hooting in the distance, guessing it was probably other students owls, coming back or going out to send letters.

I had sent a letter to my parents just after dinner, telling them not to worry and how I had a date for the ball this year. I had re written the letter so many times, worried the expression when they read my words would make it obvious I was lying. After the fire had eaten up 4 parchments I finally sent the letter off hoping for the best. Pansy had ended up reading over my shoulder before I could stop her and had found out I was "dating" Mattheo. At first she was upset I hadn't told her. Her arms had been crossed and a permanent frown had been etched onto her face.

I couldn't lie to her so I eventually told her the truth, her eyes widening as I explained everything.

"I'm sure it'll be fine" She had said eventually. I hoped she was right.

The next day rushed by extremely quickly. It felt like I had just had breakfast but here I was waiting for my mother to show up. She had said she wanted to "meet me before she left for something extremely important in a different country"

She just meant she was going on holiday without me but I didn't mind. The last time I had gone all she did was talk about my grades and the clothes I was wearing or something else that annoyed me. I turned to Pansy who was starting to look at her nails in boredom.

"You should go. Start getting ready" I said to her. She was waiting with me, just inside the school gates. Pansy shrugged "I don't mind. You need support when your dear mother comes because Salazar knows you can't lie"

I crossed my arms even though I knew she was kind of right "I can. Listen I'll be fine, trust me. Go get ready"

Pansy hummed in thought "It does take me a while to do my eyeliner.....fine. See you, don't crumble under pressure" She blew me a kiss and walked back in leaving me to crack my knuckles repeatedly even though they were already cracked.

I couldn't even wait in peace because as soon as Pansy left I heard gravel crunch behind me and when I turned to look who it was, Mattheo's grin made me want to stop time. God he was gorgeous and he didn't even try.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as he stood next to me, his body heat reaching me at his close proximity. He raised an eyebrow a knowing smile on his lips "You can't lie to me forget lying to your own mother"

I huffed in annoyance. Why did everyone underestimate me? I mean they were right but still. And how could I lie to Mattheo when his chocolate eyes would make me melt in mere seconds? And how did he know what I was waiting for? Pansy must have told him on her way in.

Without warning my mother apparated in front of me before I could confirm what I was thinking. She was wearing smart wizarding robes. She had probably just come from work. Like usual she didn't hug me, just giving me a once over and then turning to Mattheo instead.

"So your dating my daughter?" She got straight to the point, tossing her blonde waves behind her, eyes narrowed. Mattheo nodded his expression serious

"Yes maam"

Her eyebrows raised slightly but she carried on quizzing him about his grades, plans and even what he thought about marriage. I wanted to die right about now. Luckily she only turned to me at the very end of her little interview "I expect you to have good grades by the end of the year. Your father sends his love" And with that she apparated away just as quickly as she had arrived.

I let out a sigh "Thanks. She's a handful sometimes" I told him, feeling bad that he had to take the brunt of her questioning. He shrugged wrapping an arm around my waist "It's fine, nothing I can't handle"

"You don't have to pretend like we're dating when no one's looking you know" I said to him quietly. It was getting dark now and no one would be out in the gardens anyways. Mattheo ignored me, carrying on walking toward the castle, his hand shifting to pull me closer

"Someone could be looking though the window, sweetheart. You can't be too careful" He whispered in my ear, his voice making my insides heat and my legs feel like jelly. I blinked at him as he straightened up acting as if he hadn't just made butterflies erupt in my stomach from a few simples words.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I couldn't survive one night next to him without my brain cells melting how would I survive a whole fucking week?

note: If i made this into one long thing it would be too long and i prefer shorter parts...SORRYYY :(