#tag list reset

[kmomof4]

Tag List Reset

Taking a page out of hollyethecurious and xarandomdream’s books, it’s that time of year again!!!!

As we get ready to turn the calendar, it’s time to reset the tag list. If you’d like to remain on it or be added, please dm me, comment on this post, or you can reach me on discord, same username. If you’ve moved on from CS fandom and no longer want to be tagged, no need to do anything. When I post my next fic in the next couple of weeks, I’ll take you off.

Let’s set sail into the new year, shipmates!!! Tagging the usuals!

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 3 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever @bluewildcatfanatic @qualitycoffeethings

[thegreatyin]

How did you manage to handle not one, but FOUR separate accounts in fl? I recently made the account for my HD little guy but having to do the tutorial again just seems miserable

there's... weirdly several answers to that question, actually??

a HUGE part of it is due to the way FL is structured. the 10-minute action timer is a core part of the game on a fundamental level, and the fact that i can very easily run out of stuff to do on one character and thus have an excuse to quickly and easily swap to another is just... convenient? satisfying? i'm not entirely sure how to explain it. the fact that i can make progress even while i am fundamentally simultaneously Not Making Progress is like pure dopamine for my freak insane awful little brain. there's just something really pleasing about spending all of my actions pursuing The Goal Of The Day™ on one account before casually swapping to another and doing the same without feeling like i'm wasting time or acting to the first account's explicit detriment. the downtime helps! the recharge time helps! the structure really really works!!

i'm technically only actively playing three, maybe two accounts minimum. the only reason the fourth (the one that'll be my future BaL playthrough) currently exists at all is so i can get his earlygame completely out of the way now and not have to waste time running through it all later, when what i actually want to do is play the ambition i've made myself wait a full year to play. and also getting free goodies as seasonal stuff happens,, something something surprise tools to help us later. the only two accounts i'd say i'm really "actively playing" at the moment are caeru and lark- and of the two, lark takes the most priority, since his ambition is the one i'm currently pursuing in earnest. for a couple months now- despite being My Main FL Character- the scoundrel has actually been pretty inactive on a gameplay front outside of the occasional progression in TLC and discordance content. purely by virtue of having Very little left to do outside of Very long-term grinds and vanities. they're in their "now what?" "now you can start playing the game" era. they've graduated to previous protagonist background cameo in a sequel anime series. they're like the yin FLPC equivalent of red at the top of mount silver. they're Literally just vibing rn. i only keep posting about them regardless because i'm insane and i will never ever ever ever ever let that bat go. but yeah, big TLDR, outside of doing the bare minimum to keep making waves/notability up every week, i'm not actually spending that much time on accounts i'm not currently actively interested in playing. and that accounts for way more gaming spoons than you might think.

i have a virtually lifelong history of playing MMOs, especially and specifically world of warcraft. i was born in the endless grind for useless video game pixel vanities and/or bragging rights. molded by it. you all have merely adapted to doing the same piece of content a pointlessly excessive amount of times for literally no reason besides whimsy and folly. me? i've done my time. i've served my sentence. i've spent weeks doing the original burning crusade netherwing dailies. i've devoted days to running praetorium over and over and over again, back-to-back, nonstop, long before square enix cut it in half and made it NOT take at minimum an hour and a half per run. i've perfected my silverwastes + auric basin goldfarming strategies. i've (almost) crafted dragonwrath tarecgosa's rest. i've killed the sha of anger so many times its dying scream of agony is embedded into the very fabric of my being. ""only"" doing making your name content four times over? that is nothing to me. it means nothing to me. it is so infinitesimal i can do the persuasive seduction quests in my sleep. it's not a matter of handling misery, or having the capacity, or even sighing as i remember the brass embassy raid segment of the watchful questline seriously i don't know why i keep forgetting that exists or what even is my problem with it i just am so consistently mildly inconvenienced by it and its highly specific resource requirements and it is the worst thing ever. maybe i'm just so used to the scoundrel's near-infinite money and troves of disposable items that i've completely forgotten what being poor is like. despite having done that step 3 fucking times now. ahem. anyway. i have transcended the feeble mortal bindings of my resistant-to-grinding flesh and ascended to a higher plane of enlightenment, they may call me insane but they will be the ones left laughing when they see what that "insanity" has wrought, i've usurped them, i've usurped them all-

hacks and coughs and awkwardly clears my throat. i mean. uh. um. Ahem.

the empress' court artistry + tales of the university nerfs helped too.

[shippingmyworld]

how long does burnout last? asking for a friend

[synthaphone]

my shiny fails:

shiny Bibarel in Diamond, 2007: first shiny ever, i was like 11 and SUPER excited. unfortunately in was in the safari zone and ended up running away

shiny Charmeleon in Emerald, 2008: i'm counting this as a fail even though it was uncatchable- i was at a Quiznos playing the Battle Factory and one of my opponents rolled a shiny charmeleon as a rental. i did end up swapping for it after beating them and using it for the rest of my factory run, but like. nothing you can do there, RIP

shiny Sunkern in GO, 2018 or something idk: it busted out and ran away. rip

shiny Spheal in Legends Arceus, 2022 probably: rolled away... so sad.........

shiny Dragonite in Lets Go Pikachu, 2023: another 'couldn't catch it before it ran away'

shiny Houndstone in Scarlet, yesterday: I saved in front of it so i thought I was safe- it burst out of 3 moon balls and I decided I didn't want to lose that many of such a rare resource on one pokemon. so i reset and all of the spawns refreshed 🙃

[nvllificatixn]

( Okay but my true question is... how many people to I try to follow.. )

[theroguebanshee]

The Ultimate AR-15 Troubleshooting Guide for Gun Owners Who Want Their Rifle to Run Right Every Time

This page may contain affiliate links. If you click and buy, I may earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you. I only recommend tools I trust and use myself. AR-15 Troubleshooting – Fix Your Rifle Fast This AR-15 Troubleshooting Guide is built for one purpose: to get your rifle running right. If your AR-15 won’t feed, fire, eject, or cycle, this guide has the fix. Light primer strikes?…

[possum-creacher]

oooooooo im gonna kill. oooooo discord better fix this shit by next wensday or im gonna start killing.

[crushmeeren]

࿐ part one of masked stalker week! touya is first, megumi’s can be found here! ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list link

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, knife play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere vibes.

⋆ ⬪ This isn’t quite as long as the others, as I wanted to keep it sweet and to the point without too much world building this time.

⇢ ⇢ touya art by birf ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

⇢ ⇢ @with-my-calamitous-love (tagging cuz I thought you might enjoy this)

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Touya’s a regular at the coffee shop you work in. It’s in a seedier part of town, and nobody bats an eye at the villain who stops in every night before close. He never speaks to you after he orders, just shoots you a wink as he leaves. But he’s the least of your worries. There’s someone wearing a ghost face mask who’s been stalking you after every shift. It’s been going a lot longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s because, in a twisted way, you like it?

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Busy, doll?”

Your hand jerks violently, the tip of your pen ripping a giant hole in the napkin you were currently doodling ghost face on. You purse your lips, and after swallowing your heart back down into your chest, you lift your head to send a weak glare at the familiar smoky voice piping up from across the counter.

Touya glances at your drawing and the corners of his lips twitch with the ghost of a smug smile.

“I was. Thanks a lot for ruining my picture,” you complain, balling up the tattered napkin and dropping it in the small trash can beside you. You mourn the loss of your masterpiece and rise to your feet with a sigh. “Getting the usual?”

“As always, doll. What, that pretty little empty head of yours forget my order already?” Touya teases, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over the edge of the counter. The scent of burnt firewood smacks you in the face and tickles your nose. You pull backwards instinctively, even if the smell does entice you.

“No,” you protest, nose scrunching as you resist the urge to sneeze, glancing up into bright blue eyes. Touya arches an eyebrow and you spin in the opposite direction before he can notice the soft heat of embarrassment burrowing into the apples of your cheeks.

It’s not your fault the backhanded compliment fills your belly with butterflies. He’s stupid hot, scars and all, sue you for having eyes.

Touya hums as if your petulant no amuses him greatly.

It’s like clockwork. Nearly every evening one of Japan’s most wanted villains shows up half an hour before close and orders a plain black coffee. He never speaks again after you start making it, no matter how hard you try to coax him into conversation. He just responds in noncommittal hums, studying you so intensely that you fidget in place.

Then he pays, shoots you a wink, and leaves through the front door with his hoodie pulled up tight to cover his snowy white hair.

It’s not as if anyone bats an eye that he frequents the place, you have a suspicion that the owner does business with the LOV anyhow. The security cameras are just for show, and you sure as hell won’t rat on him. Screw society, or whatever the LOV stands for.

You secure a lid on the nearly overflowing cheap styrofoam cup. Neatly, you write his name on the side before handing it over, fingers brushing over cool metal as you do, and he grins so widely the staples on his cheeks stretch obscenely. You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fingertips tingling with a pleasant burn even after he’s gone.

Your lungs expand with a steadying breath to reset your nervous system, closing your eyes briefly to focus. When you crack them open and glance at the digital clock on the wall, there’s only twenty minutes left until you can escape the dingy cafe.

That only serves to fill you with dread of an entirely different beast. One that has guilt weighing you down because, if you’re honest, you’re…. excited for what awaits you at the end of your shift.

You see, Touya is the least of your current worries. Yeah, you have a huge crush on him, but he’s never made a move and you’re sure he’s got more pressing matters to deal with.

Shigaraki seems like he’s more than a handful to work for after all.

No, for the past two or three months, as soon as you lock the door and start your treacherous stroll home through the seedy part of town, a man in a ghost face mask follows you the entire way. He never does anything, just simply tails you without a care in the world.

You still have no clue who it is, and at first you were terrified, the jarring sensation of eyes constantly on you making the hair on your arms stick straight up. You were being stalked and hunted like a small rabbit in the woods, and a cold sweat often trickled down your neck. You’d grip the straps of your backpack with trembling fingers and white knuckles.

Then, love letters began appearing in your mailbox at the end of every week. Pages upon pages of your stalker waxing poetic about you, decorated with scratched out sentences and rants demanding that you belong to him, and that he’d tear any man who flirted with you into pieces. They’re always signed with “my heart beats for you”, no name listed, and some hastily drawn hearts.

You’ve started to wonder if you’re sick in the head, because as more letters appeared, the fear faded into infatuation. You started to become just as obsessed with him as he is with you. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he could tell when your feelings changed, if the increase in letters was anything to go by.

That being said, his secret identity consumes almost every waking thought you have. You’ve been on edge for weeks, and it’s driven you to come up with a plan to push things forward.

You’ve decided to write him his own letter, and soon you’re going to leave it in your mailbox for him to find. You yearn to know who he is, to see what he looks like.

And you really want him to fuck you in the mask.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The bell above the door jingles as you slam the front door shut. You curse lowly, fiddling with the key that never seems to actually lock the door. You race the biting cold to secure it before your fingers go numb. After the fifth time you hear the signature click as it slides the deadbolt into place and you sigh in relief.

You swing your backpack to the front, digging in the front pocket and pulling out your prepared letter in a white envelope labeled “to my stalker”. With determination, you start walking in the direction of your home, shifting your gaze to peer down the first alleyway past the coffee shop. Your heart rate thunders when you spot a familiar ghost mask barely peaking out above the dumpster.

You make haste, calves burning the faster you push your stride. You breath resembles a dragon’s and the crunch of heavy boots on the concrete sidewalk behind you has your fingertips tingling. Your stalker trails after you at a steady pace, an eerie tune being whistled as he follows. His footsteps never quicken, as if he’s confident he’ll catch up no matter what.

Before you realize it, you’re reaching the end of your driveway, coming to a halt in front of your mailbox. You turn ever so slowly, witnessing the masked man pause in the middle of the street. He tilts his head in curiosity as you raise up the letter so he knows what you’re holding.

Tentatively, you gesture towards the letter, and then you shove a shaky finger his way. He points at himself and you nod once. Then, you make sure he’s watching as you place it in the mailbox and shut the door as fast as you can.

You whirl without second guessing yourself, the scenario reminding you of running up the stairs so a monster doesn’t capture you as you practically sprint into your home and lock the door.

You don’t dare look out the window to check if he’s taken it. You slump against your door, adrenaline still rushing in your veins as you slide to the tiled floor with a squeak. The warm air thaws your limbs as you spiral.

When you inspect the mailbox on your way to work the next day, the letter has vanished.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s late Friday evening, thirty minutes before close, and anticipation is currently wreaking havoc on your mind. You jump each time the door opens. It’s enough to distract you from the fact that Touya hasn’t made his usual appearance tonight.

Granted, it’s not that unusual, he’s not there every single day, so the realization only flits across your thoughts before disappearing.

The divorced dad rock playing softly in the background pauses, a result of the shitty internet connection, and you roll your eyes as you continue to rhythmically wipe off the counter top in relative silence.

The sharp chime of the door startles you, gaze shooting towards whoever has entered, but the spark of hope in your chest deflates when you recognize a different regular sauntering through.

You greet him with a fake smile, going along with the boring small talk as you prepare his drink. He’s kind enough, and he tips decently, so you treat him well. You send him on his way with a genuine smile and return to your closing tasks.

You’re flipping the last chair over, about to settle it on the table top when the door opens once more. Annoyance flares in your chest, and you twist your head to call over your shoulder that you’re closed when your voice gets stuck in your throat.

The wooden legs slip from your fingers like sand, and the chair clatters loudly to the table as you spin towards the door in shock.

There in the doorway, looking terrifying, is your fucking stalker. He’s dressed in all black, ghost face mask secured and black hoodie pulled up, but it’s definitely him.

You weren’t sure he’d show up, mouth opening and closing in shock as you stare aimlessly at him.

“You…you got my letter,” you manage to choke out, heart hammering against your rib cage. He nods once in acknowledgment, casually reaching behind himself to flip the lock on the door. The cold sensation of fear pours into your belly, and you swallow the cotton balls that have taken refuge in your throat as he takes a step closer.

Your feet are cemented to the floor, limbs paralyzed while he stalks towards you, pulling his hood off as he goes. You can’t see his hair and you notice that he’s wearing black leather gloves as well, so that doesn’t give you any sort of clue as to who he is.

You shiver slightly, time seeming to slow when he comes to a stop directly in front of you. Your head tilts in order to properly look up at him.

“You wanted me, right doll?” The deep voice drawls, unearthing something metallic from his waistband that you immediately notice is a knife. Your terror skyrockets, the high of the thrill mixing with it in a strange and intoxicating way. You retreat as far as you can, but it’s only a few inches as your lower back bumps harshly into the edge of the table behind you, jostling the chairs.

“No! I mean, yes, I did, but I just wanted to talk! I’m…interested in you,” You attempt to explain, hands flailing animatedly and voice shaky as you ramble.

The masked man chuckles in amusement, raising the knife and gradually beginning to dig the tip into the underside of your jaw, tilting your head even further back. It pinches, not quite breaking the skin, but the threat looms.

God, you hope this wasn’t a mistake, and that you aren’t so pathetic that you’ve actually let a stalker in here to kill you.

“To talk about what, sweetheart? Your letter said you were interested, but I saw you with your little boyfriend in here earlier, whore,” he spits the last word, knife pushing in a bit further. “Were you lying to me?”

You cry out desperately, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as your eyes grow wide and your brows shoot up to your hairline in confusion.

“No! What? I - I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear!” You plead, voice watery and thick. Your hands fly up to fist the front of his hoodie, rising onto your tip toes so you don’t impale yourself. Your heart rate is erratic, enough so that you’re becoming dizzy.

Panic wells up in your throat, eyes stinging with tears as he stays silent for what seems an eternity. Then, he clicks his tongue behind his teeth, dragging the tip of the knife down the hollow of your throat, and purposely nicks your collarbone before he finally pulls away.

You gasp loudly, breath coming out as a bitten off sob as your hands shoot to your neck to check for any glaring injuries. A few tears flow down your cheeks in relief as you pant harshly, fingertips only slightly red when you pull them back.

“What the fuck!” You screech, glaring intensely at him and flushing hotly to the tips of your ears. “I just wanted to talk to you!”

He shrugs, spinning the knife. “We’re talking, aren’t we doll?”

Your expression pinches as you try to hold in the next sob, sniffling pitifully. All of a sudden his personality switches, emotional whiplash evident as he crowds you in against the table. Your fear spikes once again, hands coming up to his chest in a weak attempt to save yourself.

He slips the knife back into his waistband and harshly cradles your jaw, wiping away the few stray tears with his glove covered thumbs.

“Aw c’mon doll, you’re such a pretty thing, please don’t cry. I just got so furious seeing that other guy in here flirting with what’s mine. You understand, right?” He soothes, mania seeping into his tone. He presses his warm lean body flush with yours and you squeeze your eyes shut. You end up nodding, head fuzzy with the whirlwind of fear and arousal fraying your nerves. “Fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he demands coldly.

You refocus your gaze upon the pitch black eyes of the ghost face mask, lids drooping slightly.

“I told you I wanted you,” you protest. “Not some random regular.”

He’s surely driving you insane, and you’re certain it says nothing good about you that you still want him so badly.

“I know doll,” he coos, hands smoothing down your chest. He grabs your tits and then moves lower to squeeze your hips bruisingly. “And you’re gonna fucking show me.”

The man reaches behind you and shoves the chairs over the sides of the tables, the insanely loud crack of the wood slamming into the floor causes you to smack right into his chest. He hushes you, coaxing you to back up, and then he hefts you up onto the edge of the table by your waist.

“Raise your arms,” he instructs.

You listen, inner elbows touching your ears as he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it off. He drops it carelessly to the floor and then gets your bra off just as easily. He lures a soft moan from you when warm leather hands play with your tits, pinching your nipples until they harden. He whispers something you don’t quite catch and then he’s reaching for your waistband.

“Wait!” Your fingers curl around his wrists to halt his movements before he can unbutton your pants. “I don’t even know your name! At least tell me that before you fuck me.”

You’re certain he’s smirking behind that mask.

“Oh? And what will you do if I don’t tell you, hmm? You’re a filthy whore for me, aren’t you doll?”

You blink in shock, the harsh words lighting fire to your blood. You nod jerkily, your hold on his wrists going slack.

“So, are you going to say no?” He taunts, fingers toying with the button on your jeans. When you shake your head he coos at you. “Such a good girl, you listen so well.”

He hooks his fingers into your pants and panties, yanking with enough force that he pulls them out from under you. You gasp, catching your weight with your hands as he slips off one of your sneakers, leaving the remaining material to dangle uselessly around one ankle.

Your pussy seeks for anything to cling to, but tightens desperately around nothing as he pushes your thighs apart to see you better. You look up at him sheepishly when he places his thumbs on the sides of your soft lips and spreads you, moaning appreciatively at what he finds.

One thumb shifts to your clit and he rubs a few slow circles into it, the texture of the leather sending waves of warmth out to your limbs. Your nails scrape the wooden surface as he grips your knees and lifts them until you’re forced to place your heels on the edge of the table to balance.

Your leftover sneaker squeaks when you shift your foot, the vulnerability of being on display for this man making your stomach knot up.

“I want to see you. Please, show me,” you beg, gaze flickering down to see the way his stiff cock strains against his zipper, eager to be freed.

“Yeah? Does my pretty little toy wanna see my face?” He runs a teasing finger along the edge of his mask. “I think,” he muses, pausing a measly few inches from your face. “You just want to see my cock.”

He straightens as soon as the words leave his lips, unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. He wears a long black sleeve shirt, and he reaches below it to undo his own dark jeans. Soon enough his hard cock is bouncing free and curving up slightly towards his belly.

Your lips part, a storm of pure need rushing through you. A patch of curly white hair at the base of his cock draws your attention, and the small piece of knowledge excites you.

“You have white hair?” You ask in awe, shifting your gaze from the hand loosely stroking his cock to his face, staring so hard you might actually be able to see through the mask. He tilts his head curiously and steps up to the edge of the table.

“So there is a brain rattling around in there,” he teases, tilting his hips up to slide the tip of his leaking cock over your clit. He shifts down to nudge against where you’re entirely exposed. “Sure do, sweetheart. Recognize me yet?”

Your brows scrunch, distracted by the white hot jolt of pleasure, and then your stalker is gripping your throat and cutting off your air as he pushes his cock inside you all the way to the hilt. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, the stretch burning and so unbelievably perfect that your entire body tingles.

He pulls his hips back until the tip is all your pussy clings to before bullying his cock back inside, the sharp smack of his skin meeting yours pushing a wheeze out of you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it doll?” His voice is scratchy, a breathy moan escaping as you squeeze him. Your head grows heavy as you nod to the best of your ability, spine begging to arch into his thrusts.

He sets a ruthless pace after that, not allowing you a second longer to adjust. His free hand clutches your bent knee and uses it as leverage to throw his weight into his hips.

After what seems like an hour, you start to tap urgently at his wrist, vision swimming as he continues to fuck the very life out of you. He eases his grip and you suck in a lungful of air that has blood rushing in your ears.

Just as the lightheaded sensation starts to fade he applies firm pressure to your throat until your shoulders slam into the table top. He stills his hips as he follows you down, and your legs instinctively lock around his lithe waist. He places his elbows on either side of your head, panting harshly through the cloth mouth of the mask.

When you land the air gets knocked out of your lungs, you gasp out of reflex and the scent of burnt firewoods floods your nose. Something clicks into place in your mind, and with startling clarity, it dawns on you that your masked stalker is Touya.

Touya moves his hips leisurely, curling them so his blunt tip presses firmly against your g-spot. Your hands fly up to fumble with his mask, and Touya doesn’t move to stop you when you push it up and off his head, the plastic clattering to the floor somewhere beside the table.

Familiar searing blue eyes and scarred skin greet you, spiky white hair sealing the deal.

“Touya,” you breathe, and he grins slyly, each of his slow, deliberate thrusts jostling you up the table. His lids are heavy as he peers down at you, and your arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Surprised?” He purrs, and you shake your head.

“No, fuck! I’m happy that it’s you,” you manage to get out between choked off moans. The look in his eyes turns wild, a borderline hysterical laugh leaving his lips.

“I own you, isn’t that right doll?” He balances his weight on one elbow and reaches to grab the knife from his waistband. He stabs the wood inches from your head and you yelp, heart skipping a beat as you shy away from the blade. He lets go but allows the knife to remain in place, resuming his previous position.

“Yes!” You reassure him, pussy fluttering involuntarily and Touya grins in self satisfaction, caging in closer until his lips brush over yours when he murmurs.

“Let’s make that pretty little pussy cum on my cock then, yeah? Show me you understand.”

With that, Touya resumes his relentless pace. He keeps you on the edge of a kiss, whispering soft praise until you’re surging up to kiss him as stars burst behind your eyelids.

He groans into the kiss, hips faltering as your pussy suffocates him. Touya drags out your climax for as long as he can hold out before he breaks the kiss and shoves his face into your throat, thrusting shallowly as he cock jerks. He sinks his teeth into your pulse point, sucking and marking you with what’s sure to be a dark purple hickey.

You hug him close, thighs twitching with aftershocks and Touya slips his arms underneath your waist. He gives you no reprieve as he readjusts his grip and hauls you up off the table, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and wail as he twists and drops into a booth nearby. The intense pressure on your soft cervix makes your stomach ache.

Touya frees you of your sneaker and the remainder of the pants still dangling around your ankle. He roughly smacks your ass and gazes up at you with a catlike grin.

“Ride me like you fucking mean it, doll. I gotta see those tits bounce.”

You come together over and over that night until you’re both exhausted. Before Touya takes his leave, he draws his number on the side of a styrofoam cup and places it on the counter. He’s deadly serious when he tells you that you “better not fucking ignore him,” or he’ll show up here every. single. night.

And truthfully, you want to play with fire and see what happens if you do.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (4)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You give the stranger your name but he just tells you to call him S. He seems a lot more important than you, so that makes sense. He must be if he's throwing around money so easily. A lot of money.

That seems to be on his mind too.

"Did you get the transfer?" He asks as he takes off his sunglasses.

You rub between your thumb and index nervously. You can't stop fidgeting. You glance around for what must be the dozenth time. You feel like everyone is watching you, that they all know you're doing something so stupid. Yet, nobody is looking at you.

"I... didn't check," you murmur. "I've just been waiting."

"Sorry again for making you wait," he puts his large hands on the table, framing the tall mug with his fingers. "You know what they say about meeting people online."

You snort, "ha, yeah."

You look out the window and exhale. That only stirs your nerves. You face him and sit back in the chair, folding your hands in your lap.

"I'm sorry. I think this was a bad idea." You say.

"Is it? We haven't even talked."

"Yeah, but... I should be looking for a job or... my mom. She's all alone..." you wring your hands.

"I want to help with that," he turns his hands and taps his fingers on the table. He sniffs. "I'm trying to figure out how to say what I want to say. And that's what it is. I want to help."

"But why? I don't know you. You don't me." Your teeth want to chatter, you're so nervous.

His chests rises and falls. His throat bobs. He resets his posture.

"That would be part of it." His blue eyes bore into yours. They're so bright and bold. "Getting to know each other."

You shake your head, confused.

"I could help with the medical bills and groceries. Whatever you need. It would just be..." he extends his fingers as he gestures with his hands. "An exchange. An arrangement. All you have to do is spend time with me."

You stare at him. Your eyes search his face. Your mouth slants. You want to laugh. It sounds absurd. Yet, he looks serious. You straighten your lips.

"By spend time you mean..." you shiver and mash your hands together in your lap. "They don't have people you can pay in New York."

He sighs. "It's not just... if physical things happen..." he pauses and his cheek twitches. "I'd prefer we just feel it out and see where it goes."

You look down. He can dress it up and say it as carefully as he likes. You've heard about these things. There's women on TikTok who post videos about new handbags or designer shoes and their 'daddies'. But they are so beautiful. They are interesting. You're just... afraid.

He coughs and shifts his chair closer. "I know it's not easy to be in your position. Sick parents are difficult. My mom... when I was about your age, she was really sick too. Still is but we manage."

You peek up at him. You don't know what to say. There's that voice in your head telling you that the answer is clear as day; no. You're not a prostitute. No, you have dignity. Then there's the other one, the louder one. You have nothing and you're about to lose even that.

"How about this? Before you make up your mind, let me take you around town. We'll just get to know each other. Baseline." He suggests. "We'll have our coffee, order some lunch, and you can show me around."

You bite your cheek. That's not too bad. He's not pushing you. If anything, he seems just as unsure. That makes you feel a bit better.

But can you really do this? Can you sell yourself like that? He's still just a stranger. Still just S.

Your head is reeling. What would your mom think? Well, you couldn't tell her, just like you never told her what you're really doing right then.

You bring your hand up to rub your shoulder. You hook your fingers around, shielding yourself, and nod.

"Alright, I'll try." You agree, keeping the rest of the sentence inside; I don't have any other options.

His cheeks dimple. The lines on his face only add to his good looks. He really isn't that bad. A bit older. Maybe a lot older.

"So, you hungry? What do you want?" He looks over at the chalkboard menu.

You follow his gaze. You focus on the menu. It's a bit easier to do that.

"My treat," he assures.

"Um, thanks," you scratch your neck nervously. If it were up to you, you wouldn't waste the money. "The veggie croissant sounds okay."

"Sure, anything else," he stands.

You push your shoulders back and and shake your head. "Thank you. That's more than enough."

"No problem," he turns and struts up to join the line.

You watch him. His shirt is taut across his shoulder blades and around his biceps. He's built better than any man you've seen before. Confident. He's cool as he waits patiently and steps up calmly to order. He slides out his wallet and swipes his card. Not a second thought. No tallying up rent or bills or even just the cost of a bag of rice.

He folds up his wallet and spins. You avert your attention to the table. He approaches and sits again.

"They'll bring it to us," he says.

"Okay," you accept. You can't look at him.

He shifts. "Look, I don't see you as just... I see you as a person. I hope you realise that. I really do want to help you."

"Yeah, I know." You swallow. "I'm sorry. I'm just... thinking."

"That's okay," he assures. "Not rushing you. So uh... I'll tell you about me a bit. If you want?"

You nod and make yourself look. His eyes are almost sparkling as they stick to you. You're a stranger to him too. How can he be so interested? Just you and your butterflies.

"I have a business. I have been running it for the last fifteen years. Before that, I did some corporate work but I really didn't like the politics, so started my own thing," he explains. "I live in New York, I watch baseball, I like to draw. Or liked to. I don't have a lot of time for that anymore." He pauses and holds up his finger. "One sec."

He reaches to his chest pocket and flips up the flap. He slides out a napkin. He unfolds it on the table.

"Got bored on the plane," he slides it over to you. It's a sketch of a butterfly. It's really good too.

"Wow, you did that?" You ask.

"Mm hm," he hums. "I'm a bit rusty."

"No, it's really good," you lean in to admire it. "Wow."

He's quiet. You put your fingers on the edge of the napkin as you look it over.

"My mom used to draw. Paint, too. She's really good. Like you."

You peek up at him. There's a subtle curve in his lips.

"It's... nothing but you can keep it if you want."

"I think it's more than nothing," you pick it up. "That's so cool."

"Ha, thanks. Think the real thing is cooler."

He sits back and looks over as one of the cafe employees approaches. She puts down your plates and tells you to enjoy. You tuck away the napkin.

"Looks delicious," S says.

It does and it smells even better. You hesitate as he picks up half his sandwich. You stare at yours.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

You think about your mom. She doesn't eat much these days but you wish you could bring her good food like this. You resist a frown.

"It's all good," you assure. "Thanks so much. It looks great."

You pick up half the croissant, careful not to let the contents spill out.

"So, where do you work?" He asks.

You nibble and swallow tightly. "Oh, just... customer service at a few stores. Nothing special."

"Hm, that must be stressful."

"It can be," you shrug. "Not the most stress I have right now... but er, whatever."

"Not whatever but I can understand not wanting to talk about it." He says. "Any other hobbies? Besides the butterflies?"

"No..." you drone. "Just watch some TV here and there. Go for walks when I can. There isn't too much going on around here." Not much you can afford.

"Any recommendations? I don't watch much but I'm always open to binge," he says.

"Not unless you're a fan of 90s sitcoms," you shake your head.

"Don't mind them," he says.

He leans forward to take a bite. You focus on your own sandwich. Your stomach is mulching painfully with each morsel. You only realise then how hungry you are.

🦋

S is even bigger walking next to him. You take him down the block to the park. You don't often come to this part of town but it's nicer than your neighbourhood. There's a fountain there.

You collide with S as he tries to follow the path but you find yourself distracted by the birds bathing in the water. You apologise and back up. He chuckles and turns to look at the fountain.

"Pretty. Peaceful," he says as he stops to watch them. "Different. New York is just... everything."

"Oh, it must be super busy there."

"Yeah, very," he agrees. "This is nice though."

"Probably boring to someone like you."

"Boring is nice. Boring is... easier," he says.

He starts toward the fountain and you follow. He stops at the edge and turns to sit. You do the same. The water trickles, the scent of it stirring the air.

You peer around. Another mother with her stroller, a couple and their dog, a brood of kids and their parents. It's all so nice and perfect and sweet. All these people are so happy. They don't have to worry about a thing.

You can barely remember the days when you weren't bound in anxiety. When you were the little girl skipping down the pathway. It feels like it's always been this.

You turn away to hide the gleam in your eyes. You don't know why you're thinking about that right now. You dab your eyes with your knuckle and sigh. You make yourself sit up.

"It's pretty here," you say.

He's watching you. You can feel it. Did he notice?

"It's gorgeous," he agrees but he isn't looking at the trees or the flowers.

You sniff and turn to watch the birds again. You make yourself smile. He shifts to see them too.

"Is your mom waiting for you?" He asks.

"She'll wonder where I am. She always does," you cross one arm across your middle. "I told her I was going to the bank to pay bills and do some running around."

He looks at you and nods.

"I didn't mention you. She doesn't know at all." You say. "It's just... I wasn't sure..."

"You weren't?" He wonders. "What about now?"

You clamp your lips and tilt your head. You open your mouth but can't find the words. You drop your shoulders.

"I don't know. I... I'm very lost right now." You look away.

He exhales. "I know it might not be very obvious, but I am too. I came all the way here and I was sure I was going to sit there alone all day. I kept checking your page thinking maybe you might delete and disappear with the money. Which is fine, that's fine. Your mom needs it but I just... the money is nothing to me." He sucks in air and laughs grimly. "New York is lonely. Being the boss, it's isolating. I didn't know what else to do and I... I just want something simple."

You listen, rolling around your thoughts on your tongue, poking your cheeks. You might be gullible but he sounds honest. Vulnerable even.

You hang your head and turn so that you're facing the open park path. You lean forward and wiggle your feet. "I just want my mom to be okay," you utter. "And if she isn't, then I don't want her to spend the time she has left like this."

He's quiet for a moment. You could wilt right then. All the stress crashes down on you and threatens to smother you.

"I can make sure that's not the case. I can help you keep her comfortable," he slides his hand across the stone and touches yours. "And you don't have to tell her about me."

"Yeah, she doesn't need to worry about me," you push yourself straight. You look him in the face. "I think we could try."

[wigglebox]

Tag list! Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed 💚💙

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Perfect 🎃

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - epilogue (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. 📚series masterlist 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: thank you all for all the love on across stardust's final chapter and the story overall. i'm so overwhelmed by the response to this fic, so i hope everyone enjoys this short epilogue. it's not long, but i hope it does provide a bit of closure and a glimpse into our couple's future and all the good things to come for them. much love 💗

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, some general allusions to anxiety, a literal nod to breeding kink but this isn't smutty, just two married people in love and being cute about their future

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 3.2k

✧₊⁺ two years later ✧₊⁺

The keypad to your apartment door is too small, that’s the thought that flicks through your head for the hundredth time since moving here as you try to hike the heavy shopping bags higher up on your shoulder to balance the weight and try your code again. Your head hurts, a headache brewing in the back of your skull that you don’t have time for, and traffic was terrible getting back from the shopping district to your place, setting you back an hour despite how efficiently your driver tried to weave around the blocks of stopped cars. 

As you try to reset your bags again, the electronic lock light flashes green and the door pops free, leaving you stumbling into your entryway. You skid a little on the tile, dropping the bags with a heavy sigh and kicking off your shoes as the heavy door swings shut around you. 

You lean back against the wall, feeling overstimulated from the entire day, but when you take a look around, your anxiety starts to ease. Your place is clean, every little thing on your mental list already taken care of, and any lingering stress about your pre-trip to-do list fades right out of your mind as you realize Yunho must have come home early. If a little traffic and a finicky keypad is your biggest problem, the day is just not worth worrying about.

“Babe?” You call into the quiet space, “I’m home,” 

There’s no answer, but you can tell from his shoes by the door and his keys in the bowl that he’s here somewhere. You drop your purse into its designated home by his gym bag and drag a few of your shopping bags further into the apartment, bursting full of last minute travel toiletries, new outfits bought in a moment of stressful impulsivity, and shelf stable groceries for when you get home undoubtedly starving after your return red-eye flight. 

You don’t have that much time before you have to leave for the airport, a couple of hours at the most, and all you want now is to get everything situated and ready so you can take a deep breath and download a couple of new books for the flight. 

“Baby,” You call again, “Yunho, you home?” 

This time, you’re greeted with a far off voice, “Hey, jagi, I’m in the bedroom,” he says, “you need help?” 

You do, but you leave the bags behind and head down the hall towards his voice, “I’m good,” you reply, “you’re home early?” 

“Mhm,” He hums, and when you make it into the bedroom you see that he’s laying in bed but on top of the covers, the lighting dim, “we wrapped up practice early so everyone could get a start on their vacations.” 

“Ah,” You lean over and press a kiss to his mouth before taking off your outfit and reaching for something more comfortable, “were you trying to nap? Sorry if I woke you,” 

He shakes his head, “Mm-mm,” he gives you a small, close lipped smile, “just getting a headache, thought I’d rest before the flight.” 

“Me too,” You look at him like this is surprising information, but of course if one of you isn’t feeling your best, the other has at least an echo of it. 

He gives you an amused smile and then pats the bed beside him, “Come relax, you’ve been running around all day, I’ll get you some aspirin and some water,” 

With a sigh you flop right into the bed face first. 

Yunho runs a warm hand over your hair and then slides off the bed. 

You let your eyes close for a few moments, listening to the sounds of him rustling through the bathroom medicine cabinet. 

“How was today?” He asks, his voice gentle in case your headache is worse than his. 

“Mm, fine,” You roll onto your side as he comes back into the room, “just busy out with the nice weather, it took forever to get back from Myeongdong.” 

He nods, one hand outstretched with the medicine and a glass of water in his other, “Here,” he says, “I already took some, but I think it’s your head,” 

You smile, knocking back the aspirin quickly. It had taken a bit of time to figure out just how the soulmate bond worked when one of you was feeling poorly, and when it’s something less obvious than a dance injury or period cramps, the source could be either one of you. 

“Oh,” You say as you swallow back another mouthful of water to clear the dry taste of the medication, “I just got off the phone with your mom,” 

He smiles and eases back down onto the bed, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” You pass him the glass of water and sink back into the pillows, “she was checking in before our trip, but asked about coming up a few weeks after we get back,” 

He nods, “I like it,” 

“I told her the guest bedroom is finally finished,” You snuggle into his side now that he’s laying down again, “I figured they can stay with us this time,”

“Perfect,” Yunho murmurs, passing a hand up and down your back. 

“How was everything with the members?” You ask, turning to look up at him. 

“Good,” He shrugs, “you know, everyone’s ancy for a bit of time off after last month,” 

Comeback and two separate concert appearances abroad had put you all through the pressure cooker, especially while you were on an opposite schedule with the Xikers team and unable to travel alongside Yunho this time. 

You nod, “And San?” 

Yunho smiles, “He practically had one foot out the door the whole time, he was leaving right for Namhae from practice,” 

“Understandable,” You press a kiss to Yunho’s chest. 

“He’s where we were,” He agrees, resting his hand over yours. 

Three months ago, San had gone home to Namhae for a charity event and bumped into a woman at a coffee shop near his father’s Taekwondo studio. It had been the quickest moment, just a touch in passing while he was in a hurry to get back to his parents as she was drowning in the morning coffee rush, not expecting that the man she’d hand back change to would brush her skin and be her sudden, fated soulmate. 

He had called Yunho in a panic, not knowing what he was supposed to do since he left in a daze, unsure of how to parse through the bizarre heaviness in his chest and sudden waves of feeling. 

It only took five minutes of Yunho talking him down for San to realize that he needed to turn around and go to her, only to run straight into her on the sidewalk as she tried to find him, the shop completely abandoned behind her. 

“I can’t wait to meet her,” You murmur, “it’s exciting that it’s not just us anymore,” 

“He’s bringing her back up this time,” Yunho adds, “I think they want to try and get a place,” 

You grin, “We’ll take them to dinner and just convince them to move in here,” 

Yunho laughs, “Here?” 

“There’s units open,” You point out, “I wouldn’t mind a friend in the building,” 

“I’ll tell San to keep that in mind,” 

You settle your cheek more comfortably against the crook of his shoulder, letting out a soft breath. 

“How’s your head?” His fingers card softly through your hair. 

“Not bad,” You assure him, “just a little tension headache, it’ll be gone soon,” 

He hums, rubbing your scalp gently at just the right pressure points. 

“Just need a minute to recharge,” You murmur, and Yunho snuggles you closer in response. 

Recharging became a bit of a code word for you both, not alone time or a date, or even needing to talk, just time with each other in the quiet, bodies touching and coming back to center. 

Your mind flicks through the to-do list though, you can’t help it. 

“You checked us in for the flights?” You ask. 

“Last night,” He confirms. 

“And we’ve got the car,” 

“Picking us up in three hours,” 

“And the,” 

“Hotel is confirmed,” Yunho soothes you, “yeobo, rest a minute, I’ve got everything handled.” 

“Sorry,” You sigh, “long week,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” He kisses your hair gently. 

“I know we said no work on this trip,” You nudge him, shifting to look up at his warm expression, “but can I show you some sketches later?” 

“Mhm,” His hand rests at the base of your neck, massaging the knots there, “what are you working on?” 

“Concepts for the Seoul concert,” You explain, thinking of just how important this show would be for Xikers, their largest venue to date, “we got set design details this week, I’ve just been thinking through some of the looks,” 

“Show me at the airport?” He offers, “Or on the flight, whatever works. I’d love to look at them,” 

You nod with a smile up at him, making a mental note to take your iPad out of your work bag and put it in your travel bag so you can show him the concept art and email over your final work to the team from the plane.

Some days you miss working on the Ateez team, but the opportunities and creative seniority on the Xikers team is something you probably would have only achieved through the high stakes contract negotiations. Despite the longer hours and added responsibilities though, you love it, and you love Yunho for how fiercely he’s supported you and your work as you take such a big step. 

You glance once more at the clock, but Yunho rolls you into a spooning position and gathers you up, “Relax,” he presses again, “just for a few minutes,”

Finally, your body lets you. 

Tension unspools from the knot in your neck, the aspirin finally starting to work on the low throb in your skull, and before you know it you’re half asleep in your husband’s arms. He rests with you awhile, but eventually keeps you both company by flicking through videos on his phone for you both to turn your brain off to. 

At what feels like the tenth video of an adorable dog, you sigh, “I want a puppy,” 

Yunho pauses the video of a yellow lab puppy with paws too big for its uncoordinated body, and he huffs a small, amused laugh, curling around you to see your face, “Yeobo, we’re on tour for half the year,” 

“I know, I know,” You shift in his hold until you’re facing him again, “it wouldn’t be fair to get a dog and then leave him,” 

He nods. 

You pull him closer by the front of his t-shirt and let his arms loop around you, your cheek against the steady thump of his heart when you relax into him again. 

“Someday,” He murmurs, kissing your hair, “I like dogs,” 

You nod into him, and the words slip out before you can stop them, “Next year, when you enlist,” 

He tenses a little, “Yeah?” 

“Let’s get a puppy before you go,” You murmur, “I don’t want to be all alone here,” 

His arms tighten around you, “Sweetheart,” he sighs, “are you worried about that?” 

“Only a little,” You confess, “but at least then we won’t be touring, I can be here with it and he’ll keep me company while you’re away,” 

“Yeah?” Yunho kisses your hair. 

“We should do it before you go though,” You tell him, “so the puppy knows you a bit, has a chance to bond with you,” 

Yunho pulls back, smiling down at you, “Been thinking about this a lot?” 

You shrug. 

His grin widens, “Yeah,” he dips low to kiss you before gathering you back up against his chest, “okay, let’s get a puppy next year.” 

You smile against the soft skin of his throat. 

“It’ll be good practice for a baby,” He says the words calmly and casually as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Not right away,” His clarifies, his hand still absent mindedly smoothing up and down your back, “and we’ll be promoting a lot after we come back from service, but, I was thinking about it,” 

“You were?” Your voice is small. 

“A little,” He borrows your words, a soft kiss against your hair, “a few years from now, I mean, we’ll be in our thirties by then,” 

Your stomach does a pleasant flip flop, “That’s true,” 

“I’ll come back,” He murmurs, “we’ll make a few albums, and then you know, we’ll move into a bigger place and make few babies,” 

You grin, nudging him in the ribs, “A few,” 

“What?” He laughs, looking down, “I thought you wanted two kids,”

  You roll your eyes, “Yunho, a few is not two, a few is at least three,” 

“Okay,” He shrugs, “fine, we’ll have three kids, four if you want, five at the most, but you’re going to have to sell me on it,” 

“Yunho!” You laugh, pushing against his chest. 

He grins and rolls you smoothly onto your back, settling above you and brushing his fingers along your cheek, “I’m kidding,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, “one baby, two, I don’t care, whatever you want,” 

“Oh yeah?” You melt under him, “Whatever I want?” 

He nods, “Anything,” 

“What do you want?” You nudge him gently. 

He softens, letting his weight drop a little more over you as he kisses you tenderly, “I want everything with you, yeobo, I always have,” 

Your fingers card through his hair, his lips warm and soft against yours.

“I want a home,” He murmurs, kissing you again, “a dog,” 

You smile as his lips travel to your jaw. 

“As many babies as you’ll give me,” He confesses, his voice warm and deep against your ear. 

You gasp as his teeth nip at your ear, his hand winding between you to slip into the top of your shorts, “Yunho,” 

He nods against you, the sound of his name on your lips something he never tires of, “Yes, jagi?” 

You blink, trying to keep your head, “We don’t have time, our flight,” 

“Mm,” He checks the clock on the bedside table, “we’re already packed, we’re fine, baby,” 

“Yun,” His name again a strained, taut sound as his fingers deftly slip between your folds. 

“How’s your head?” He checks softly, kisses travelling over your skin. 

“Better,” You admit. 

“Then we have time,” He murmurs, “I promise,” 

You answer him with a soft sigh, your thighs parting for him. 

“We’ll get a little practice in,” He teases and you fall apart into warm laughter. 

“Okay,” You pull him in close, to-do list be damned, “let’s practice.” 

He loves you slow, fucks you softly until you’re ready for him, opening your body up petal by petal. He makes love to you to with promises whispered in your ear, and by the end you’re nothing but a sated puddle, the freshly made bed ruined underneath you. 

It’s a mad dash out of the apartment by the time you’re both ready, frantically checking and re-checking your bags to make sure you have your passports, not a chance you’re missing out on your first vacation together since Jeju, a trip away just the two of you that was long overdue. 

At the airport, Yunho keeps you tucked closely to his side, pulling you towards check in and your gate with a smoothness that could only be a result of his years navigating Incheon. There are less photographers, much less press than if he had been travelling as a member of Ateez, but there’s still a few, and you both kindly dodge any questions as he weaves you through the small crowd. His hand stays firmly on your lower back the whole time, an awareness thrumming through him despite his easy going smiles at the camera. 

It’s a strange new normal now that you’re publicly together. A few years ago you would have never imagined walking side by side with him like this, let alone touching, openly romantic in a way you never thought you’d be afforded.

But times have changed. 

Everything’s changed. 

On the plane, with Yunho’s fingers threaded with yours, you think about it all.

After the announcement, things did get difficult, just like their CEO predicted. For a little while it was every bad thing you could have imagined, but just like it's always been true, bad things end, and at the end of all that was a life so much brighter than you ever thought you could have. 

The cruel comments, the letters, the threats, you hardly remember their words anymore. 

The change started with the members, each of them posting their very public and proud support of you both, and then it all just kept coming. Other idols spoke up too, lending their support to you both and asking the same questions as Yunho did in his letter; what is fair for idols to endure for the sake of a fantasy? 

When retired idols started revealing their truths about finding their soulmates and the difficulties they faced with their companies, with their careers, you could almost feel the physical shift in the air. Yunho wasn’t the first idol to find his soulmate, you had been right all along about how unlikely that would have been, and now you had idol after idol sharing their own story and standing with you both in solidarity, in strength.  

Slowly, the voices of those who supported you both got louder and more frequent, and life found its way back to steady. Comebacks, tours, appearances, fancalls, all of it right back into place. For the most part, his fans were still his fans, and many of them, to your absolute surprise, embraced you too.  

As Korea fades away from your airplane window, you turn to finishing up a little work before watching a movie side by side with Yunho on one of the little screens, headphones split between you. Eventually you sleep, both of you dropping off together, hands still tightly clasped on the console between you.

When Yunho wakes you, hours and hours later, the plane cabin is just starting to raise the lights for landing. Your husband kisses you softly, and then nods towards the window. 

It’s nighttime in Paris, the sky inky and dark, but below the city shines, boulevards cutting wide swaths across streets and dividing up each arrondissement into glittering pockets of light. As the plane banks, your eyes catch on the unmistakable glow of the Eiffel Tower as it erupts into silvery stars. 

“Just for you,” Yunho murmurs, his fingers soft on your cheek as he turns you back to him. 

“For us,” 

He leans into you, capturing your mouth in a kiss, a warmth blooming in your chest as his fingertips brush against his soulmark. 

He promised to bring you back here someday when you didn’t have to hide, and from the start, he’s kept every promise he’s made to you. 

This time when you walk through the city together it’s daytime, the spring sun warm and the trees blooming along the riverbank. 

This time, your hand is in his on the same side of the Seine.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Death on a Holiday Mini-Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, and sexual content.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, best friends to lovers, canon divergence, pining, fluff, angst, smut, time loop

Mini-Series Summary

This day has happened before. So did the one before it. And the one after it. You're sure of it.

Small things change, but it's always the same, and it always resets the same way, and you can't find a way out.

It's perfect torture, and you don't think there's a way out.

Author's Note

Based on this request! The time period we are in is "vauge unspecfied bunker era". I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Purgatorial Chapter 2 - Burial Chapter 3 - Wrathful Chapter 4 - Release

[sibillascribbles08]

Big Ol' Rottmnt Fic Rec List

Hi, I've needed to do this for a while, so here's a big bundle of fic recs from me !

I've broken it down between one shots, chaptered fics, and series. I'll try to mention what the character focus is along with a brief summary and some personal thoughts. If you need more details I encourage you to check the fics summary and tags for yourself! I will only include an author's tumblr account if it's easy for me to find haha

One Shots

Mama's Boy - ashtreelane: Technically two chapters but it feels like a one shot. Casey Jr. angst, involving him finding out that maybe you can fix kraang infections and that he failed to save his mother. I love when people really pile the grief on Junior after all the fighting is over and the fic does it so well.

Forget-Me-Nots - GibbousLunation (AKA @klunkcat ): Hi, oh my god??? Leo and Mikey centric angst, in which saving Leo from the prison dimension has an insane ripple effect. Mikey dying? Nah he's going to start getting erased from every timeline and Leo slowly watches it happen (and refuses to do nothing about it). I utterly adore how this fic handles this concept. You see almost all of it from Leo's POV, noticing the little changes but writing them off as memory failures, because of how subtle some of it is.

Fight or Flight - pickledcarrotsandradish: Leo centric, post movie, Leo keeps waiting for his family to start lecturing him about all the dumb stuff he did during the invasion, and they aren't, so it's getting to him. A very neat narrative about how self loathing can warp our perception of how others see us. A++++

The Friend Zone Sounds Pretty Good, Actually - Cryptvokeeper: Eating this, eating this. You probably already know I love aroace Leo and this fic is an INCREDIBLE exploration of that. Even as just an ace person it hit SO many notes where I was just like "Oh god... I've been there buddy". And as a bonus the dynamic between Leo and Yuichi is v sweet. Love this a lot I've read it like five times.

Pink in The Night - unnamedmystery: Incredible April/Sunita fic. Like seriously this author wrote April's crush so well I think I was starting to fall in love with Sunita. Just incredibly cute all the way through, and great April writing, adore it.

《 until then, matriarch 》 - chiangyorange: HI OH MY GOD A nice chunky oneshot about Karai, about her being a leader, and it's phenomenal. It hits and hits and does not miss, really going in depth about her emotions involving her father turning into something wicked and having to destroy him, and how it ruins all of her good memories.

The Kindness of Collision - SpoonerizedSwiftness (AKA @splickedylit ): Hi I still remember the fic and the art suddenly showing up in the tag and then I was thinking about it for the next like five weeks aslkdjf A very interesting idea that when the turtles reach the age they were in the doomed timeline before things got reset, all the memories of their other life more or less hit them like a train. All of them have to comb through that information and it's a wonderful and emotional ride.

Chaptered Fics

Hamartia - Punable (in progress): Hi this is one of my all time favorite rise fics, mainly because in a way, it helped me come to terms with my chronic pain. It's Donnie centric and smack full of angst in all the best ways. Shorthand summary, an explosion in Donnie's lab almost takes him out (or kind of DOES take him out) and the recovery is not only long and agonizing, it may only go so far, and Donnie doesn't cope well with that.

Kick It Up a Notch - Brokenpitchpipe (completed): Hi this is my other all time fav rise fic. Donnie centric separated AU in which Donnie is raised by Draxum. My love for it stems a lot from the characterization of Donnie though, and even Draxum in this case. Not to mention that in a lot of cases it matches the vibes of the show. And in spite of all the humor, there's a few really gut wrenching moments. 10/10 will re-read.

Lightning in Our Fingertips Today - DaFlangsLairde (AKA @daflangstlairde-art) (completed): Leo and Donnie centric, mostly angst, with body swapping between the twins which results in Donnie finding out that Leo's ninpo hurts him. Love love love the character writing in this, and also how the swap is written.

Under Pressure - ParvumAutomaton (completed): Not sure this is a single character focused fic, but basically April goes cave diving and is out for a while, and the turtles get worried and go looking for her. This might be personal bias but as someone who gets really into caving stories, this fic hits the spot for so many reasons. A really great emotional ride, and if you wanna see April go through it then I super recommend it.

Nothing Haunts Us (like the things we don't say) - mad_and_thick_as_theives (completed): A lot of great fics by this author btw, but this one personally stood out to me. It starts of silly and light only to sweep in with the emotional weight. Turtles are all cursed with a truth spell, basically, but I think my favorite bit is who gets out of it first (and why). V sweet.

Creation of a Philospher's Stone - IgnisCanis (completed): Whoooo boy, if you want some Draxum centric character exploration this is a great one. It really fleshes him out as a morally grey character and also does a fantastic job at writing Mikey when he finds out.

The Ol Switcheroo - radishhqueen (AKA @radishhqueen) (completed): Haha not going to lie I have a few by this author (so I'll only tag them once) but MAN. Hands down my favorite take on future leo coming to the past, and maybe I'm biased because I like when those fics actually explore Junior's character in the process buuuuut I love it. Junior's already struggling to adapt himself to the present, and after getting caught up in a foot clan spell which summons his sensei to the present too it really doesn't get any easier.

Vigilantism for Fun and Profit - radishhqueen (completed): The Cassandra Jones fic ever. Zero contest. If you're uncertain about writing Cassandra because she had so little development in the show I encourage you to read this for inspiration (I know it inspired me a lot). It does such a great deep dive into her character post show and a bit of the movie too. Honestly anytime radishh has a Cassandra fic I am clicking.

Tried to Grow Up Good - Sroloc_Elbisivni (AKA @sroloc--elbisivni )(completed): The Casey Jr. fic ever. CRAZY in love with this post movie take on him. It's messy, it's fun, it's so so real and you get a good chunk of Casey Sr. in here too. Adore it.

Hold On (Or Three Times Donatello's Soft Shell Almost Killed Him, and One Time it Saved His Life) - dunk_on_em (AKA @spockazilla )(completed): If you ever want a bit of angst involving Donnie's shell this is my go to. Every chapter has an emotional swing, even the positive ones. And shows something most people might see as a disadvantage as a good thing, actually.

Atlas, My Brother - swampcryptid (AKA @the-name-is-rizzotherat)(in progress): Get your Raph angst, specifically involving him always shielding his siblings, this time via a curse. My guy is already going through it and I think it'll get worse if a solution isn't found.

I've Got You Under My Skin - Cass_Phoenix (in progress): More Raph angst, and some Donnie, a truly chilling exploration of the possible consequences to connecting with the kraang. This fic constantly has me on the edge of my seat, and constantly stressing for Raph.

What We Leave Behind (How We Start Anew) - iam57311 (AKA @iam-57311)(in progress): Any Baronjitsu fans here? An alternate take on canon in which Draxum and Splinter co-parent the kids since they're first born (made?) Hilariously while I love the Baronjitsu content in here, I think some of my favorite parts are actually with the sisters, Big Mama, and Draxum's sister who is so so cool I love her.

Proof of Redemption - iam57311 (complete): Another one of theirs! A short and sweet lil close to canon fic about Draxum steadily gaining the trust and affection of the Hamatos, with each chapter focused on a different character. I love how they're all paced out from each other, really hits how some are much slower than others to trust Draxum hehe.

No Crime* Only Brooches - OllieTheScribe (AKA @olliethescribe) (in progress): Well I have to get THE HypnoWarren fic in here. Such a fun take on these characters, I love love love the backstory they built up for Warren too, plus the dynamic between these two and the turtles after (eventually) become friends haha.

Minor Interference - bambiraptorx (AKA @bambiraptorx) (in progress): What can I say? This fic is delightful. Between the hilarity of the turtles going with Draxum just to mess with him, the lore additions for yokai and the Hidden City, HoH Donnie, and their slowly building dynamic, always eager for a new chapter with this one.

Series

A Butterfly with a Mechanical Wing - Amethyst_Goldenwind (AKA @amethystgoldenwind ): Donnie centric series about being a non-verbal autistic. I'm always fond of non-verbal/mute explorations of characters, and so far I really like how, because his family has grown up with it, all of it is very normal for them. The various forms of communication are delightful. Excited to see further entries.

Analogous Hues - alwerakoo (AKA @alwerakoo): It's a separated AU with similar titling themes as my own, needed to check it out. The titles are just about all they have in common though! This AU focuses a lot on the turtles (Raph and Leo with Splinter and Donnie and Mikey with Draxum). I love how this explores not only the dynamics of the two groups and how different they are, but also the dynamics between each of the siblings, also how some magic sibling connections can influence that. Not to mention the different home life in more ways than one. If you're into separated AUs that really dig into the turtles dynamics try this one out !

[saturnville]

one way | kelvin harrison, jr.

part one

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: nia has kelvin wrapped around his finger. so much so that when he misses her, he goes above and beyond to do something about it. warnings: none wc: 5,341 an: listen to one way by 6lack & tpain. also, I decided to make this a mini series. so, this is some time (an unspecified time) later. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax

Work trips usually thrilled Kelvin. The allure to explore the world on his company’s dollar sparked child-like glee. First-class seats with heated eye masks and champagne, king-sized beds with duvets white as freshly fallen snow, and cuisines so rich in flavor they inspired his dinner menu for his evolving dinner menu back home.

But this work trip was different. 

The clatter of silverware in the hotel restaurant felt deafening. The nightlife of the city below grated his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, mocking him. His eyes found a couple, smiling and twirling on the sidewalk. He was green with envy as visuals of their love blinded him. Even cheesy romantic comedies on free streaming felt empty without someone to giggle over the awkward scenes. 

For the first time, Kelvin didn’t bask in the thrill of the escape from his life back home. He was drowning in the stillness of loneliness. And he hated it. 

-

Once a month, Nia took a Friday off. She dedicated it to deep cleaning her home, doing laundry that may have gotten caught in the crossfire of work and other responsibilities, self-care, and anything else that fit on the long list stamped on the front of her refrigerator. The reset day was often intense and busy. It took a toll on her body, but having everything done by early afternoon was an accomplishment—an accomplishment she celebrated with Chinese food and peach-infused wine. 

Nia sat in the corner of her L-shaped couch, laundry scattered to her left and folded piles on her right. The Lion King played softly in the background as she worked through the last of her baskets, humming along to "Be Prepared." Well, humming might be generous. Kelvin would call it her "tone-deaf symphony," but she didn’t care. 

Folding clothes was tedious—her least favorite chore. Four baskets of proof surrounded her. Her mom loved laundry, but Nia avoided it like the plague, only tackling it when she had no choice.

Mid-hum, her ringtone blared, ear-blitzing and obnoxious. 

She stretched over a pile of clothes, her eyes still glued to the screen, and patted around until her hand found her phone. She swiped and accepted the call without looking at the caller's identification. “Hello?” Her voice was soft but curious, still folding.

“What are you doing?” Kelvin. His voice was low and easy, like a Sunday morning. She shifted in her seat at the sound of his tone scratching a part of her brain she didn’t know could feel an itch. She heard the life of the city bustling in the background. She smiled softly as if he could see her. "Laundry," she replied, still focused on the task. 

“Why? She asked cautiously, wondering why a response didn’t come from him for multiple minutes.  Kelvin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she was met with the pitter-patter of his thumbs against the screen that sounded a lot like her mother’s keyboard when she angrily typed emails to her teachers for not letting her use the bathroom. 

Then, calmly as if it wouldn't change her evening: “Smooth. Pack a bag.” Kelvin had a certain way with words, she noted. Sometimes, he spoke in a way that expected a response to keep a conversation going. But an assertiveness in his voice left no room for response; it was like a four-word monologue that made her stomach clench with equal parts curiosity and the kind of flutter only Kelvin could.

In her shock, she paused. A silence so complete that it hummed through the hair. Then: “What?”

The breath he huffed out told her he didn’t like repeating himself. But, he would have to. He went from sending her cute messages with strings of emojis, declaring he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her, to firmly telling her to pack a bag.

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, his voice unwavering. Her eyebrows raised, and her head jerked back. “Your flight leaves in four hours.”

Nia startled out a laugh, the kind that started in her throat but didn’t quite reach her chest. He had to be kidding. He was quite the jokester, always finding a way to pull her leg. But this was a joke she didn’t want to partake in. “Kelvin, are you—dude, what? Are you serious?”

“I told you I don’t like to lie, Nia,” was his response. She swallowed. “I already booked the ticket. I sent it to your email.”

Silence on the other end stretched again, but he could hear her faint exhale, the sound of a laugh she fought to suppress. “You didn’t even ask me.” How did he know she didn’t have any last-minute plans? Not that she did, but the question would’ve been nice. Her eyes darted to the laundry, trying to determine how many outfits she could make if she decided to go. 

She could hear the smug smile stretching across his lips like a Cheshire cat. Wide and arrogant. “I didn’t have to. But feel free to say no. I can always get a credit. Take a solo trip to Europe, or whatever the hell y'all be doing.” Bastard. 

Nia swallowed thickly. “You’re very sure of yourself,” she managed, but her voice betrayed her without a second thought. 

Kelvin hummed like a preacher in the church.“Yeah,” he replied, the lazy confidence in his voice matched only by the image she conjured of him leaning back, probably smirking like he’d won something big. "I don’t leave room for guessing when it comes to you.” Had God answered her prayers? To have a man be serious about her to where he’d pulled out that heavy-ass credit card and made accommodations for her to be beside him for the weekend. 

Her breath caught. The kind of confidence left her toes curling and her heart sprinting like FloJo. She shifted in her seat again, the sudden heat between her thighs growing warmer by the second. She tried to find her footing and gain a sense of self-control to push back against the storm of him. Nah, he wasn't a storm. He was a hurricane--intense and uncontrollable, with the power to consume her whole. She'd let him. 

"Anyway," he sighed, a soft grunt following as his chair creaked. "The Uber will be there in an hour." 

Nia chuckled breathlessly. Her eyes fell on the half-folded shirt in her lap. He was serious. "You, Kelvin, are impossible." 

Kelvin’s laugh rang through the phone like he knew exactly how she was fighting the urge to drop everything and get to it. "You should probably get to it, Nia. Time's ticking." 

"Yeah, yeah," she said as nonchalantly as she could. She carefully slid off the couch, praying he wouldn't hear her moving at his command. "Now, get off my phone so I can finish what I was doing. Bye, Kelvin." 

"You know, I like how you say my name." Her gasp pulled a chuckle from him. Before he could reply, she pulled her phone away from her ear and pressed the end, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. He played too damn much. 

She dropped her phone on the couch, ignoring its soft click when it collided with the remote, and paced in the living room. Glancing at the clock, she saw forty-five minutes. She could do this. She wasn't a last-minute packer, but Kelvin's urgency made her second-guess every outfit she pulled from her closet. 

"Pack for a weekend getaway," she muttered, grabbing a handful of clothes from the pile. "It's not that hard." Panties, bra, satin pajamas. Would a dress be needed? Of course; what if they went to dinner? Short, long, slit, or no slit? 

Nia dropped her phone, pacing in the living room, pretending this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all week.

She tossed another shirt onto the bed and squinted at it. Was this cute enough? She didn’t even know what they’d be doing—he could’ve been sending her to the middle of nowhere for all she knew. Still, she folded it carefully, like she wasn’t imagining how his arms would feel around her when she landed.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how much you want to be with him already.

With one last glance at the time, she grabbed her bag, mentally telling herself that she could pull this off. She didn’t need to panic. But as the seconds ticked away, she realized one thing was for sure—she wasn’t packing fast enough.

-

Kelvin leaned against the sleek, black SUV, arms crossed and a smile tugging on his lips as he waited. He couldn't remember the last time he was this eager to pick someone up--probably never if he was being honest with himself. 

It wasn't just that she was flying in to see him, though that part made his heart leap. It was the fact that she'd be his in a way she had never been before. No distractions, no hiccups, nothing pulling them away from one another. The thought had been driving him mad since he booked her flight. He imagined every detail his brain could come up with--hearing her call his name from the bathroom as she got ready, watching her nose scrunch as she giggled at awkward scenes in corny romantic comedies, feeling her body against his as she slept, tasting the mint on her lips as his tongue caressed hers. He closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't lose his composure in public, but he was teetering on the edge. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of these thoughts. He grabbed it, a text from her awaiting his attention.

  Almost there. Don't make me wait.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. Nia wouldn't let him get away with anything, mainly not a tease. But he had no plan to keep her waiting. No, there was no time to waste. It wasn't a casual meetup between two old flings because he couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to wait to get home. This was the physical manifestation of his heart's desire coming to fruition. 

It was the culmination of restless nights replaying her laugh in his head, wondering if she fell asleep thinking about him, too. It resulted from careful, meticulous planning, cautious restraint, and self-control that worked together to write a story unfolding better than he could have imagined. 

He typed a quick reply. 

Never. I'll be waiting. 

Everything seemed to slow down when he saw her stepping out through the terminal doors. All he saw was her. She in all her angelic glory. The sun shone brightly, and her nose crinkled as she squinted. Her hair, let loose to do its thing, blew across her face. He could hear her giggle as she swiped the unruly strands from her face. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for him in the sea of bodies. But when her eyes met him, the slight smile on her face grew so big that he could hardly see her eyes. 

"Hey, pretty girl," the words slipped out before he could stop them. His voice was lower than usual, a little raspier, the affection undeniable. 

Nia took a final step toward him, almost chest-to-chest with the man who'd turned her life upside down. She visibly softened beneath his gaze, like an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her shoulders rounded, her complete lips parted, and her eyelashes brushed against the high points of her cheek with every blink she made. God, she was so damn pretty.

"How was the flight?" Kelvin’s words came muffled as he grabbed her carry-on and put it in the backseat, the body of the large truck decreasing the volume of his words. He moved to open the passenger door, which brought 24 white roses, and her favorite candy stopped her in her tracks. Her bottom lip poked out in a slight pout, and she looked at him with gleaming eyes that sparkled like stars.

“Kelvin…” Her voice broke slightly, soft and full of something that tightened his chest. E

“I figured you’d need a proper welcome,” he replied, feigning nonchalance, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him. Her reaction was priceless. If only he could’ve snapped a photo to have it with him forever. “Come on, get in.” Kelvin moved the flowers from her seat, waited for her to adjust, and placed them in her lap. Nia tried to say something, but the words didn’t come. She laughed softly and looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. Her fingers caressed the delicate petals in awe. 

Kelvin closed the door behind her and slid into the driver’s seat, quickly drifting out of the airport parking lot. A comfortable silence settled between them, wrapped around them like a hug. Nia unwrapped the gummy nag, popping one into her mouth. He glanced at her, the dim streetlights playing across her features like a spotlight. She was a one-woman show, and he, her audience, was captured and enticed by everything she did. 

Her soft voice broke through the silence. “Can I hold your hand?” He saw her looking at him through his peripheral vision. She was curious to hear his response but already knew the answer.

Kelvin blinked one, two, three times. His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Huh?”

She turned her head toward him, her expression steady but expectant. “Your hand. Can I hold it?”

His breath hitched like he’d been snatched back, and he fought the smirk tugging at his lips. He reached across the center console without a word, letting his hand fall into hers. Her fingers laced with his, petite and warm. It was simple, but how she looked at their joined hands had him swallowing hard. What could be going on in that pretty little head of hers? His thumb brushed her knuckles, a small act that felt wildly intimate. 

“You’re dangerous, girl,” he murmured, his voice low enough to blend with the hum of the car. Nia tilted her head, brows lifted. “Me? Dangerous?”

He momentarily tore his eyes from the road to look into her eyes as his lips brushed against her knuckles. “Yeah. Got me acting all kinds of soft.” 

It was Nia’s turn to smirk. She hummed, off-key, might he add, and said, “Good. You should be.” 

-

“Not bad,” Nia teased as she circled the hotel room, tossing a small smile over her shoulder. She’d been in her fair share of hotels, but this one took the cake. “It’s beautiful.” Her boots kissed the carpet, which looked new, as none of the fibers were out of place and smelled fresh like daisies. Her purse slid off her shoulder with a thump as she let it fall against the couch. Her fingers ran across the top of the pillows, her nails catching slightly in their loose threads. 

Kelvin leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following her every move. He couldn’t help but feel like the smile she tossed over her shoulder was meant for him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, even if she weren’t looking.

Nia turned left and took two steps, her stride slow and deliberate as she approached the window. Her eyes widened like she’d seen Christmas lights for the first time as she drank in the wonder of New York City. With her forehead pressed against the cool glass, she craned her neck back and forth to embrace the beauty of the fast-paced life. The muffled sound of car engines and honking horns hummed harmoniously, with the air conditioning system blending into the background. She was in awe of New York. He was in awe of her.

“This is my first time in New York,” Nia said once she sensed his presence behind her. She sighed softly, her breath creating a small circle of fog on the glass. She drew a smiley face in its wake, then wrapped her arms around herself, massaging her elbows in a twisting motion as if she needed comfort. “I dreamt about it, but it always seemed out of reach.” Kelvin acknowledged her with a nod that she couldn’t see. She felt the warmth radiating from his body and leaned back to experience just a spark of the flame. His chin on her shoulder made her knees buckle, to which she leaned back, letting his firm body carry her weight. 

He knew she’d never been. Though he selfishly wanted to see her, he knew she’d never been to New York. In his mind, killing two birds with one stone seemed feasible. It made sense. He got what he wanted, and she got to experience an environment that seemed a universe away. But she didn’t need to know all of that. So instead, he let his hand trail down her arm and settle hand as he whispered against the shell of her ear, “I know.”

-

The sound of the water shutting off echoed through the hotel suite, and Kevin was there, adjusting his suit jacket in the mirror. Nimble fingers stumbled over each button, trying to force it between each loop. He didn’t hear her step out, but he knew the moment she did—there was no mistaking it. The soft rustle of the towel and the scent of vanilla and cedarwood filled the room like a gentle caress. His pulse quickened. 

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of her reflection. She stepped out of the bathroom, her towel barely hanging, just low enough to tease. His eyes traced the curve of her silhouette, the way her skin glowed, damp and soft as she had just walked out of his dreams. There was something about the way she didn’t rush to cover herself. She moved confidently as she knew exactly what effect she had on him—and she wasn’t shy about it.

He couldn’t help but watch as she glanced at him through the mirror, her brown eyes locking with his. Her lips twitched into that playful smile he adored, and for a split second, he wondered if she could see how badly he wanted her. He cleared his throat, running a hand over his jacket again, though the tension in the room wasn’t about fabric anymore. It was about the two of them, the space between them shrinking by the second.

She shifted, pulling her towel just a little tighter, though she didn’t seem to be in a rush to move away from him. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You're still here?" she asked, her voice teasing but soft like she was giving him the green light to stay. The soft pitter-patter of her feet against the tile floor made his eyes drop. Her nails were painted red, a rich shade that complimented her skin beautifully. His eyes fluttered closed briefly as he inhaled deeply.

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes, his voice low, full of intention. “I’m admiring the view.”

Her gaze flickered over him, and for the first time, he saw her let her guard slip. She didn’t avert her eyes or try to hide how she was taking him in. No, she leaned into it—allowing him to see the hunger in her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly. Any other day, if he caught her gaze lingering longer than usual, she’d stall like a deer in headlights, like a criminal caught for petty theft. She was letting him watch her.

A beat passed, and she caught his eye again in the mirror without warning. And just like that, something shifted. The way Nia held his gaze told him she was just as comfortable with him in the room. The quiet, simmering tension between them cracked, and she said it—soft and unexpectedly as if it had slipped out without thinking. “Help me with my zipper?” 

Kelvin didn’t have the chance to answer. The casual nature of her movements let him know it wasn’t a question but an expectation to be fulfilled. And yet, even with her confidence boiling over like a kettle too whole, he had not expected her to release her towel like she was the only one in the room. Kelvin’s lips parted to release a shuddered breath he prayed only he could hear. 

She was brilliant; she’d already shimmied her way into her panties, presumably in the shower, but everything else was exposed, well, almost. He’d seen more skin than he’d ever had throughout their relationship, which was deliciously overwhelming. Her hips bit the waistband of the thin panties and hardly held everything she had.

Nia held the towel over her breasts and looked around for her moisturizer. She mumbled incoherent words to herself, lost in her world as though the man she shared a space with wasn’t losing his inhibitions with every passing second. “Kel.” He was pulled out of Lalaland. “My dress is on top of my suitcase. Can you grab it for me?” 

Gladly. He needed a moment to collect himself before he went ballistic. Turning on the balls of his feet, Kelvin did as she instructed. The dress was nothing he’d ever expect her to wear, but he was more than ready to see how the sleek, green dress would accentuate her curves and glisten against her skin. 

“This is nice,” he mumbled, carrying it back into the bathroom. Nia turned over her shoulder and smiled. That Colgate-white smile. His right released the hanger from the confines of the dress, tugging softly at the zipper. She took it from his grasp gently, whispering her gratitude, and shimmied into it. Dear God. 

“I think you have a staring problem,” Nia teased, locking eyes with him in the mirror as she adjusted the dress to cover her breasts. Kelvin’s head tilted to the side and his tongue ran over his top row of teeth. He shook his head. “Like I said, admiring the view.” 

“Zip me, please?” She asked to his reflection in the mirror, shamelessly dragging her eyes down his frame. How much tighter could his clothes get in one night? Kelvin’s steps were slow and calculated as he inched closer to her. As the distance between them closed, the tension amplified further than it had thus far. 

Nia shuddered in anticipation as she felt his warm hands against the small of her back. His hands were large, palms covering a quarter of her lower back. His thumb caressed the skin there, pausing over the faded tattoo. “Cute,” he murmured. Lover, written in a cursive script. His left hand found her waist, holding and cupping in an almost possessive manner, while his right slowly, almost agonizingly slow, pulled her zipper up. His fingertips lingered at the back of her neck, enjoying how the skin raised and how her pulse quickened beneath them. 

His lips parted, but the words were lost. Here she was, back pressed against him, chest heaving, eyes fluttering as she anticipated what would happen next. Hell, he didn’t know either, but what he was sure of was the way she tasted had to be glorious. “You look beautiful.” His sentiment came out in a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear, to which she whimpered. “So beautiful.” 

Kelvin’s lips hovered over her neck, just hardly grazing her hot skin. Once by her side, her hands gripped the countertop to steady her weak knees. Kelvin saw them in the mirror, and a devil-may-care smile threatened to curl on his lips. He could take her right here. Take off her dress—better yet, have it bunched around her hips as he took her from behind, forcing her to watch how pretty she looked when she was begging for more. But it was too early for that. He’d turn her every way but loose, but the time wasn’t right, no matter how badly he wanted to yank the clock off the wall and force its hands forward. 

“I thought you had manners, Nia, what happened?” He teased, nibbling on the shell of her ear. His hand slithered around her back and toward her stomach until it settled at her pubic bone, dangerously close to where the slit of her dress was. One deliberate move, and she’d be his for the taking. “I said, you look beautiful. So pretty.” 

Nia inhaled deeply, and her voice broke slightly. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her tongue darted out to dampen her dry lips. “Thank you, baby.” Baby? That was new.  He smirked against her skin. He had her where he wanted her, yearning for him, but not to where a line would be crossed. A happy (temporary) medium. Before he got too deep and said screw the reservation, Kelvin announced: “Reservation’s in 30. I’ll let you finish.” With one last peck on her neck, he peeled his body away from hers and walked out of the bathroom, but not before digesting the low moan she released once she thought he was far enough. Ravishing. 

She determined Kelvin would be the death of her. He was too much for her to handle, too hot for her to handle. She’d done well thus far, but as the night progressed and the fiery tension between them loomed like precipitous clouds, ready to rain down upon them, she didn’t know how long she could hold out. 

She had a rule, and he knew it. But goodness gracious, she was ready to renege on everything she said when she stepped out of the bathroom and saw him posted against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, neck dropped, to better access what was on his phone. 

Blue was his color. And it happened to be her favorite. Part of her assumed his sneaky ass wore the rich shade of blue to get her bent out of shape…or bent over. But this was Kelvin—cool, calm, and way too aware of the effect he had on her. The tailored suit he wore accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist. 

Her throat went dry as she traced his slim form. The low light from the chandelier shone on him like a spotlight, his waves catching the rays. He had an alluring presence that she was desperate to be wrapped in. 

Kelvin glanced up, sensing her presence before she could speak. He smiled small, acknowledging her presence. His eyes swept over her frame, nodding in appreciation of the art before him. Somehow, she managed to look even more stunning than she did before. Her dress pooled at her ankles, but the slit on her left thigh allowed the gold accents on her shoes to shine. Her curly hair was in a slick bun, showing her neck and gorgeous collarbones. “You good?”

Good? Was she good? Hell no, she wasn’t good. Her body was buzzing like an electric wire. She was losing self-control and hardly wanted to go to dinner. She’d much instead release everything she’d been attempting to suppress. But he’d already seen her crumble. She couldn’t fully unravel yet. His head was already big; Lord forbid she gas it further. 

“I’m good,” Nia lied, tucking her clutch under her arm. “You clean up nice. I like the blue.” Kelvin’s head dropped to examine his suit. It was as if he had dressed in the dark and hoped all the pieces matched. “This old thing? Thank you. But you, Niani…look like trouble.”

Her eyes closed briefly. No one said her full name. She didn’t like how anyone else said it—too much emphasis on the second A or insufficient focus on the first I. She liked how Kelvin said it, like a subtle praise she desired to hear on repeat. 

Kelvin tilted his head, pushing off the wall to invade her space. She opened her eyes when his cologne wafted her nose. He noticed it. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her chest rose slightly higher on her next breath. One by one, the walls began to fall. Her reaction wasn’t lost on him. The first time she admitted Nia wasn’t her first name but rather a nickname derived from Niani, he tested it like an unusual food, rolling it around, tasting it until he felt right. He remembered how her pupils dilated, and her eyes darkened when it rolled off his lips. 

She liked it when he said her name. And only he could say her name. 

His hand grazed hers, intertwining their fingers. She flinched. He smiled knowingly, but her request took him aback: “Say it again.” Her breath was caught in her throat, and her voice trembled. 

Kelvin leaned in just a little, his breath warm against her ear. The way he said it, low and possessive, made her shiver. Nia swallowed. Her knees were weak, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, teetering on the edge, waiting for the right time to fall into him entirely. 

He smiled again, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of what was coming. "Dinner’s wait—“

“—take me to bed.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a demand as if she knew exactly what would happen next, and yet... part of her still wanted to hold on just a little longer.

Her words were not hesitant, but he could hear how her voice trembled. She’d permitted him to take things further. He wouldn’t go too far but far enough to leave her satisfied. 

-

Nia hummed lowly as her heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly, and she struggled to regain her vision. The chandelier grew tired, leaving the room dimly lit with the city lights. The low buzz of the air conditioning system regulated her overwhelmed body. 

She sat up with a soft grunt, bracing her body with one arm while her other kept the angelic white duvet over her bare chest. Her head craned to the right, seeing the bed bare, and frowned. Her eyes followed their clothes trail, leading to him standing in the corner of the room, back to her, and the hotel phone up to his ear. Like her, his evening attire was long gone, and sweatpants became his uniform. Nia bit her lip as she watched his back flex with each subtle movement. 

She swung her legs over the bed, bending down to fish for an article of clothing to put on. He may have had a show, but with the windows wide open, the last thing she needed was her bare body on display for everyone to see. What she had was for his eyes only. 

Nimble fingers curled around his white dress shirt, sliding it over her long arms. She buttoned it enough to keep her chest covered, then tip-toed to where he stood, eager to feel him against her again. 

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his bare waist, taking note of how he shuddered when the tips of her nails glided across his abdomen. Nia’s lips brushed against his shoulder, and then she pressed her cheek against his back, appreciating how the low rumble of his voice lulled her back to sleep. “That’s fine. Appreciate it, thank you.” 

Kelvin dropped the phone back on the receiver and peered over his shoulder. “Hello to you, too.” Kelvin turned one foot over the other in her arms, taking in how relaxed she looked. Her makeup was smudged, and her lipstick stained the pillow, leaving her lips bare and waiting to be kissed. “Food’s on its way up.” 

Nia nodded and made a noise, something between a content sigh and a low moan. He couldn’t decipher, but she sounded pleased, and that’s what mattered. “Come back to bed in the meantime?” She looked at him with those pretty brown eyes that had gotten him into trouble lately. 

Kelvin nodded, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Lead the way.”

-

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nianijanice wine, broadway, and tailored suits. nyc, I love you

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angierose girl who tf is that man?

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kelvharrjr nyc looks good on you, shawty

- nianijanice thank you, handsome

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nikkidawn girl…is it who I think it is?

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A complete guide to Blue Daddy's Girl (my) Arcane fics

Multi-chapter

Fathers and Daughters (My big hit)

Alternate AU set after S01E03, where Silco adopts both Vi and Powder. Large ensemble cast, multiple POVs, but mostly Vi.

100k words. Completed. Fanart chapters and art comms.

While the World Turns Around

Silco/Vander post betrayal reconciliation AU. Set before the show. POV Vander.

5.2k words. Completed. Entire chapter of gifted fanart at the end.

Our Love, That Flows Into the Sea is the same fic but from the POV of Silco. Unfinished WIP I don't plan on continuing.

The Shimmer Baron’s Family

Silco/Vander Regency AU. Estranged family, set during a ball at the Medarda estate.

10k words. Unfinished. No plans to finish it, stop asking lol or else make a serious request via my ko-fi.

A Stray

4.7k. Set in the "good verse". Silco and Vander adopt Viktor. One shot converted to WIP, has fanart.

Whatever I do, this is where we end

A dark Silco time loop, but told from the POV of Vander, who gets reset every time unknowingly. Strong themes of violence, suicide, despair and smut. Read the tags.

7.7k words. Completed. No fanart.

Science of the Soul

Ongoing WIP, Jayvik Avatar AU in which Zaunites are Na'vi and everyone from Piltover are humans. With art from me and others.

Cursed, by a brush of your hand

Silco/Vander soulmate AU where the soulmark is framed as a potential life ending curse. Aroace Silco, BFF with Renata Glasc. Basically an aroace perspective on soulmates.

7k words. Completed. No fanart.

What I wouldn’t do for you

Silco & Vander role swap. Silco adopts the kids and runs the Last Drop.

5.2k words. Completed. Open ending. No fanart.

The Darkin Child

Viktor, Singed and Silco are vampire-adjacent monsters, Vander is a werewolf. Married zaundads with Viktor returning to Zaun in hiding.

4.3k words. Unfinished, no plans to finish it.

The Centaur Breaker

Silly centaur AU with Silco as a rancher in a fantasy world (not a US Far West setting), rescuing captured centaurs. Vander, Sevika, Jinx & Vi as centaurs.

2.8k words. Unfinished. Only a single chapter and no plans to continue.

☆ Arcane Art Dump 

The home of all my Arcane fanarts worth saving.

One Shots

Those are sorted by kudos, from the most popular down to least.

Pretty Blue Puffs of Arcane Smoke

829 words. Silco and Powder discuss getting tattoos. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU.

Worries, and ways to dispel them & Explosions, and their fallout

5k words total. Silco x Reader two parter, written in the week before season 1's finale. 2nd person gender neutral reader without body description.

Lost Child

3.7k words. Pirate Silco is back in Zaun and trying to avoid Vander. He runs into a lost child called "Cait" at Bridgewaltz market.

The Monster Within & The Monster Without

1.3k words for Monster Within. Post-betrayal Silco recovers and cuts his hair. Based on a fanart by @/Wish. 1.6k words for Monster Without. Set at the same time, but Vander POV as he deals with emotional turmoil after attacking Silco (probably my favourite one shot to this day).

Adoption

1.8k words. Vander and Silco are still brothers. They discuss adopting the girls in this no-betrayal AU.

Beer And Bribery

2k words. Vi & Sevika. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Vi asks Sevika for help picking a present for Silco. Written for the Arcane parenting week event.

Let Me Try

4.3k words. Newest on the list! Arcane season 2 finale fix it. Timebomb... Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. She isn't, no matter what Vi may believe.

Not Dead Yet & A Friend In Need

3k words total. Jinx finds a dead body in Zaun, but Viktor isn’t quite dead yet. Jinx & Viktor, written prior to season 2 for Sicktember.

Without Questions

627 words. Written for a fanart that is currently down, but hopefully I'll fix it soon. Young Zaundads fluff. Vander doesn’t understand what Silco sees in him, but he’s not willing to question it.

Gun Nerds Of All Nations

3k words. Set in a similar AU to F&D but not actually. Powder & young Caitlyn bond at a fair's shooting competition. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Memories of Sweetness

2k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Silco discovers that a staple food of his youth, long thought to have disappeared from Zaun, is back on the streets. He has to share this with Powder and Vi, both born too late to have ever tried it.

No Favourite

1.2k words. Vander claims he doesn't have a favourite among his kids, but they don't see it that way. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Hard Truths

3k words. Ren (Marcus' daughter) tries to find to meaning to her father’s death and ends up meeting Jinx in Zaun.

Blame

830 words. Jinx POV heavy angst. Jinx talks to Silco after his death, until Sevika comes to find her. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Lesson In Silence

3k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Mek (now known as Gustove) takes Powder on a spying mission. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Last Chance

1.3k words. Past Silco/Vander. Missing scene in the cannery, a private conversation between them. Generally bitter sweet and canon compliant.

Son of Zaun

2k words. One day, Silco's mother took him up-top, to see the sky, the sun, and the people who live above them all.

Sepia Smile

732 words. The photograph is faded, its sepia tones keeping the colour of the man's eyes a secret. Vi stares at it for a long time, perplexed. She doesn't understand what Vander saw in him. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Terrible Gamble

2.3k words. Jinx (and Silco whispering in her mind) set off to rescue Vander from Singed’s lab after the events of season 2.

On Your Head

2.5k words. Alternate retelling of Mel and the young princess' of her memories. In the Princess' POV.

Drunken Dreams

Comic fanart. Jinx brings a drunk Vi home.

Just a cough & Dramatics

685 words for Just a cough. The moment Silco wakes up with a sore throat, he knows he's in trouble with Vander. Written for Sictember. 1k words for Dramatics. Vander sickfic to match.

A Fresh Start

1.9k words. Second person POV where you are brought to a recovering Silco in secret, and give him a haircut and much needed comfort. Gen fic.

Eat You Alive

604 words. Dark!Vi kills Caitlyn as soon as they enter the Lanes.

Maintenance

1.6k words. Explicit. A smutty Mek/Marcus with power dynamics in Silco’s office.

A Haunting

754 words. Heavy angst Vander & Silco meet shortly after the betrayal.

A Touch of Memory

2.2k words. A self-indulgent Star Wars crossover set in the Old Republic with Sith Silco, Jinx and Sevika and Mandalorian Vander. Has links to fanart.

In the Jaws of the Fox

247 words. Mel/Jayce. Mel contemplates the man sprawled in her bed, sleeping insouciantly.

Who Saves The Boy Saviour?

1.3k words. Dark fic!! Jinx captures Ekko post season 1 finale and straps him to the chair Silco used on Vander. Timebomb.

Ragdoll

766 words. A look into young Silco and Vander's budding relationship. It's complicated. With art, made for the Zaundads Zine.

A New Tattoo

968 words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. The story behind Mek’s tattoos.

Five Times Vi Got In Trouble

4.8k words. Vander & Grayson friendship fic done for a charity prize.

Bullseye

500 words. Mel Medarda/Grayson. Mel takes the sheriff with her to visit a progress day and asks her to show off in a shooting range.

My Ko-fi is open for tips, but I'm also open to discuss writing commissions. My DMs are open | Find me on Bsky

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Slut!*

It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t calm—but falling for Sam had a pulse, and it beat louder every time you leaned into the chaos. Inspired by Slut! by Taylor Swift *Brief mentioning of sexual intercourse. Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The bunker had always been a place of refuge—a place to reset, regroup, and escape the madness of the world outside. But tonight, it felt different. The quiet in the halls, the hum of the bunker’s old pipes—it all seemed too loud. Too still.

You and Sam had spent the last few days tracking down a vengeful spirit in a small town, but now, as you sat alone in the library, the adrenaline had worn off. All that was left was the silence, and the tension.

It wasn’t comfortable, it wasn’t calm. Falling for Sam had never been easy. It had always been about the chaos—the pull that surged between you two, the way your heart raced and your stomach twisted with every heated glance. The way you always seemed to get a little closer, a little too close for comfort.

And when you really thought about it, when you tried to make sense of it, it always came back to that night. The night the walls between you crumbled, the night you gave into the pull, the chaos.

The memory made your pulse quicken. Sam’s mouth on yours, the roughness of his hands, the way everything between you both felt urgent and needed, like it couldn’t wait any longer. You never would have admitted it at the time, but in the back of your mind, you knew what it was. You knew why you gave in.

It was the same reason you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him now.

The door to the library creaked open, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Sam’s presence filled the room like a heavy cloud. You could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your head, the same way you always could.

You let out a breath, turning your chair slowly. "Sam."

His tall frame filled the doorway, his broad shoulders framed in the soft light of the hallway. His expression was unreadable, but you could tell something was off. Something had shifted. The way his eyes lingered on you spoke volumes. You’d learned how to read him over the years—this wasn't a case. This wasn’t just a routine debrief.

His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but then stopped. You waited, your heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t the first time this had happened—the silence between you both, the unsaid words. But tonight, it felt heavier than usual. The weight of it made you shift in your seat, uneasy.

"How’s the case?" you asked, though the question didn’t feel right. It felt like a distraction.

"It’s over," Sam said flatly, his eyes never leaving yours. He stepped forward, crossing the room slowly, like he was unsure of his next move. "But that’s not what I came in here for."

You swallowed, something tightening in your chest at his words. "What do you mean?"

Sam stopped in front of you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the familiar scent of him that always seemed to make your heart skip. It was a rush, a constant pull, that damned gravity that always pulled you back to him.

He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he admitted, the raw honesty in his words knocking the breath out of you. "I don’t know what to do with it anymore."

Your pulse spiked, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. You stood up, facing him now, your heart pounding in your ears. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

It was too much—too much desire, too much raw tension that you couldn’t ignore any longer. You hadn’t been able to, not since that night. That night that felt like a mistake, but in all the right ways. The kiss you couldn’t stop thinking about. The way his hands had touched you, moved over you, the way his body had fit against yours like it was always supposed to be that way.

But then you’d both backed away. You hadn’t talked about it. You hadn’t even mentioned it. You’d buried it, like you did with all the things you were afraid to face.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you two, and Sam’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering down to your lips before he swallowed, his throat working.

"I don’t regret it," you said, your voice low. "And I know you don’t either."

Sam's eyes flickered, a shadow crossing over his face, but it was gone just as quickly. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was fighting with himself. "I—"

Before he could finish, you reached for him, your hand brushing over his chest. The moment your skin touched his, a spark shot through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

“(Y/N),” Sam’s voice was strained now, and you could feel the heat between you both intensifying. He was holding back, but so were you. And the air between you was charged, almost painfully so.

But there was no more holding back. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards you, crashing your lips to his in a kiss that was desperate, unrelenting. Sam didn’t hesitate this time. He kissed you back, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that had you reeling.

The kiss was messy, chaotic—everything it had always been between you two. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You knew the risks, knew how complicated it all was. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the fire between you both, the thing that had been smoldering just beneath the surface.

You pulled away, breathless, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in a hurried motion. Sam wasn’t far behind, pulling your jacket off and tossing it aside as his lips traced down your neck, his hands exploring, claiming.

“I need you,” you whispered, your voice unsteady as you pushed him toward the nearby wall.

Sam’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a grin. "And I need you," he murmured before his lips descended on yours again, his hands guiding you until your back was pressed against the cold surface of the wall.

There were no more words after that—only the heady rush of hands, lips, and breathless gasps as you gave into the chaos.

Later, after everything had settled, after the wild energy had ebbed, you lay beside Sam on the bed, the room still humming with the pulse of the night. His arm was draped over your waist, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

There was nothing said about it. No apology, no regret. Just the quiet hum of two people who had given in to the inevitable.

But it was more than that. You knew it. He knew it. The pull between you was stronger than ever, and maybe it wasn’t comfortable, maybe it wasn’t calm, but the rush of it—the pulse of it—was exactly what you both needed. And you were both addicted to it now, more than ever.

It wasn’t calm, it wasn’t comfortable—but falling for Sam Winchester had a pulse, and it beat louder every time you leaned into the chaos.