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shallowstories · 1 year

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Help me come unglued

From January 2023; Very self-indulgent Dean/Cas New Years' fic; reposted because it's not SO long. I wrote this when I was down hard with COVID. I couldn't sleep at all.

///

Dean feels somethin' prickly. It's that creepy itch you get when you just know a yucky spider's skittering over your skin. It’s weird enough that he slaps an open palm to the back of his neck, just in case.

Dean can hear Sam hollering like an animal just outside the door, so he must be nearly done now. (Dean thanks the stars that security was on the chopping block for this section of downtown. Yeesh.)

"All clear!"

Boom. Hasta la vista, Sapphire Chalice of Charlotte.

And hello...Cas?

It’s not really a kiss so much as it the unexpected feeling of being completely smothered by Cas’s lips. He forgets to be shocked or embarrassed.

It’s so clumsy and sudden that Dean's instinct is to be charmed by it. He feels the frown and pinch of his brow give way to a funny little smile, and he's inching his fingers forward to tap at Cas’s shoulder like:

Ease off. I’m fine.

We’re fine.

But Cas’s eyes are too wide, like he’s terrified, and it's like an alarm bell clanging in Dean's mind.

They hadn’t been in real danger here, had they? It was just some crusty old museum artifact and the barest wisp of a ghost. And Sam's already killed the thing.

Dean tries to lean back to talk to him, but Cas shoves forward against him, texture of his lips scraping harder against his own. It's rough. Dean moans, low and confused, and color blooms across his nose.

Crap.

He hadn't meant it to sound like that, and oh, it kind of hurts.

Cas, he tries to say. Cut it out. That hurts.

Dean huffs air out through his nose.

Damn. This ain't even sexy.

Impossibly, it gets even less sexy the moment Sam comes lumbering through the open door.

And that’s about when Dean realizes this ain’t some bleeding-heart expression of battle-heated relief on Cas's part. In fact, Cas plants both of his hands firmly on Dean’s shoulders and gives a hard little shove.

The force is effective enough to send Dean stumbling. But where Dean goes, Cas goes, like he's being pulled by an invisible magnet. All it does it send them crashing into a table mid-liplock.

Dean bangs his hip hard enough to bruise, and there's a clatter as a stack of book goes thudding to the floor. There's a little ashtray full of marbles and they go skittering, too.

Now's about the time Dean would usually have something cheeky to say. Something-something losing your marbles.

“Oh. Oh! Whoa.” Sam goes pinker than a lobster, puts his ginormous paws in front of his face, and spins around to put his back to them. “Fuck. S-sorry! I didn't know you--”

Cas bristles and tries to talk against Dean’s lips.

Dean thinks he’s trying to say, nurse and maybe...dumpling?

Sam uncovers his eyes, winces at the sight in front of him, and looks at the floor. “D-did you say curse? The artifact did something?”

Oh.

That makes more sense.

Cas tries a different tactic to separate them this time. Rather than pushing at Dean, he wraps his arms around his middle and lifts him slightly. It has the added effect of smooshing their lips a little harder against each other at first.

But then Cas is bracing against him, like he’s trying to physically wrench them apart. He starts pulling Dean away and pushing his own body back.

Horrifyingly, Dean feels Sam’s arms wind underneath his armpits and give an additional tug from behind.

Dammit.

But all the extra effort to unstick him from Cas seems to painfully suck their lips together even harder, like their spit is made of glue, and the force is rapidly hardening it to cement.

Dean fails to suppress a groan of pain, and Cas’s eyes fly open in panic. Cas shoves Sam back and pulls Dean forward. Sam starts chanting, "Okay. Okay, uh, I was just trying to help."

One of Cas's hands rises to prod gracefully at their joined lips. It feels apologetic, somehow, and Dean tries to relax. Slowly, the hardened rasp of their lips softens again, like putty in a microwave.

They’re not even really kissing so much as they are chastely pressed together, but it's still pretty embarrassing.

Sam mumbles to himself, “That hurt, right?"

Dean tries to nod, but the movement is restrained by the immovability of Cas's head.

“Crap. Crap!” Sam disappears out the door and returns a few seconds later with a box and a pile of ashes. “It’s gotta have something to do with me toasting this thing. Don’t worry, guys! I’ll figure this out.”

///

A short while later, Dean and Cas are piled into the backseat of the impala, shifted awkwardly towards the passenger side. They’d started out in the middle of the bench, but that hadn’t lasted long, because Sam kept accidentally glancing up to the rear view and gawking at them.

Asshole.

Now, they’re both sitting rigidly straight, with their bodies angled slightly away from one another. Their faces are still awkwardly pressed together at the lips.

Cas has tilted his face to the side so Dean can breath better via his nose, and of course, Cas himself is making a point not to breathe at all.

He seems to be listening intently to the conversation Sam and Rowena are having.

Dean scoffs to himself.

Never has there been a liplock so unsexy, so completely diplomatic.

Yet, Dean can’t seem to focus.

Whenever he opens his eyes, Cas is there, eyes bright blue and completely filling his field of vision. He almost can't see anything else. Not unless he cranes his eyes so far to the corners that his head starts to vibrate with migraine.

Dean tries not to think. If he does, he starts cataloging sensation. The texture of skin. The pores of Cas's cheeks from this close.

An indefinite amount of time goes by, during which Sam’s prattling to Rowena dies off.

Not a moment too soon, he chipperly announces that they’re ten minutes from the bunker. Then, he cranks up NPR like that will somehow ease this humiliating tension. It's a story about some politics or other.

And Dean is getting a damn crick in his neck.

The next story is the science section, and it cheerfully blasts, "Scientists Say Japanese Monkeys Are Having 'Sexual Interactions' With Deer!" Sam makes an inhuman sound as he rushes to squirrel the dial to literally anything else. He lands on Poker Face by Lady Gaga, and he cranks it up loud.

Dean feels Cas laugh against his lips, and he catches his eyes to find mirth there.

Yeah. Dean gets it. It's pretty funny that Sam's academic radio channel had embarrassed him worse than any sexy ballad could. He snorts and Cas gives him a look.

At least the shared joke has broken the tension.

Craning his neck like this has been awful. Easing up a little, Dean makes a disgruntled mmm noise against Cas’s lips and is momentarily stunned by the accidental vibrations that buzz through his (their?) skin because of it.

Cas’s mouth shapes the word Dean, which comes out “Dnn?”

Dean can feel the vertical ridges in his bottom lip.

He tries to shape “neck hurts” back.

Cas must understand some of it, because he turns more towards Dean now. He brings his hand up and cups it around the side of his face, completely supporting under the hinge of Dean’s jaw.

It’s weirdly comfortable.

The support feels a little like a cervical support collar. Cas’s index finger is pressing directly into one carotid and his thumb presses up into Dean’s other side. If it weren't Cas, it's the kind of pinch that would raise Dean's hackles, a grip positioned perfectly to crush his windpipe.

Instead, Dean sighs against him, letting his head sag forward and mouthing a “thanks” that smears their lips together so softly and pleasantly that Dean feels twin pulses throb in his neck.

He might be imagining things, but the pressure dents in stronger, like Cas is doing it on purpose. There's a little throb in the pad of Cas's thumb, like Cas’s pulse is hammering, too.

///

“Careful, careful,” Sam says as Dean and Cas stutter-step over the bunker threshold with less grace than two elementary-school kids in a three-legged race.

“Dean, I said watch your step!”

Dean rams his hip into the game table, rattling the chess pieces. He wouldn't have jolted if Sam wasn't so freakin' annoying with his whole understanding, cautious act. It's not like they're gonna tumble over the rails.

Maybe.

Dean feels Cas huff against his lips for the umpteenth time, and he doesn’t have to look to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Wr’ tryn,” Cas mumbles haughtily, like Sam’s getting on his nerves as much as he’s getting on Dean’s.

“Whoa!” Dean hears Jack say from the Crow’s Nest below. “Sam, what's going on? That looks dangerous!”

Great, now Jack’s here for the show.

And actually, getting down the bunker stairs probably is going to kill them.

So much for dying with dignity.

“This isn’t going to work,” Sam says, hot with anxiety and blame. “Can’t you two work together? We’ve just got to get you to the infirmary and then we can figure out how to…unglue you.”

Sam has the gall to sound embarrassed about this, which, Hello? Dean’s the one macking face with Cas here.

Dean opens his eyes and tries to shoot him his stinkiest glare, but trying to turn away from Cas just makes him feel cross-eyed and like his lips are gonna rip right the Hell off. He settles for bringing his arms up on either side of Cas and shooting Sam the bird with both fingers.

“Cut that out, Dean,” Sam sniffs. “I’m trying to help you.”

Dean’s next stumble tugs hard at his and Cas’s mouths again, and it friggin’ hurts. Again.

It’s like trying to rip a stuck tongue from a frozen telephone pole or something, a la A Christmas Story. Dean feels Cas huff again, and then, Dean is lifted off the ground in a dizzying move that makes Sam squawk.

“Ohh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cas! Cas? Cas, wait!”

Then with a CLANKCLANKCLANK, Cas is stomping down the stairs like a madman, Dean up in his arms and squirming like he’s some kind of exuberant toddler. Dean doesn’t really think Cas is going to drop him or anything (his arms and core feel like friggin' steel), but Dean makes loud, anxious Frankenstein noises as they go anyways, selling the theatrics of terror.

When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Cas doesn’t put him down right away, and Dean breathes erratically in and out through his nose, arms winding around Cas. You know, for stability. He tugs at Cas's coat, saying, “Cssss!” like an accusation.

Before Dean can process anything else, something hard and textured comes into contact with his mouth, prodding curiously. Their mouths mush harder together, like the intrusion is triggering the spell to stick harder.

“Hey, Jack, d-don’t do that,” Dean hears Sam call, rushing down the stairs. “It might get stuck.”

“Rowena wasn’t kidding. Their mouths really are very stuck,” Jack breathes from somewhere near Dean’s left ear, and Dean growls in warning.

This ain’t some freak sideshow.

And is that a friggin’ popsicle stick?

“Jack,” Sam sighs, sounding embarrassed. “Don’t stick your popsicle ugh–-that’s gross.”

So, it is a fucking popsicle stick.

It’s got adolescent spit on it and everything.

If he keeps prodding, it’s gonna give Dean a splinter. Like, a lip splinter. Dean’s snatches it away and snaps it in half. Then, he shoots Jack the bird, too.

For good measure.

///

Dean doesn’t complain much when Sam scoots two chairs together near the infirmary cots. (They’re both too tall for the cot to be comfortable to lie down on, and sitting sideways on one of the beds would just be...awkward.)

At least this way, Dean can lean over a chair arm and and prop up on his elbow. As he gets situated, he tries not to twitch his lips against Cas’s much stiller, calmer ones.

It would be a lot easier to pull Cas to sit on top of him.

Or to hop into his lap.

(He can obviously take the weight. That's why.)

“So,” Sam says, dragging over one of the folding table and plopping the remains of the chalice in the center of it. Dean hears the thud of books being added to the workspace.

“This is all we got, then. Until Rowena gets here, I mean.”

He hears Jack pull out a chair and take a seat next to Sam.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jack asks quietly, like he’s totally unphased by this turn of events. “Maybe we could tie ropes around them and slowly pull them apart?"

Dean gets the horrible mental image of a medieval torture rack, slowly ratcheting up tension until he and Cas pull apart, lips ripping completely off and leaving gory bits of each other’s sensitive skin behind.

“Or we could tie them to two cars and drive in opposite directions,” Jack says excitedly, like this is in fact the best idea ever and not a setup for a horror movie.

“If they could be pulled apart, Cas could’ve managed that already,” Sam sighs, hair sifting like he's running his hands through it.

“Oh.”

Jack sounds disappointed.

Kid's watching too many horror movies these days.

“There’s not much on The Sapphire Chalice of Charlotte, either. The curse was supposed to disperse after I burned it. And, well. The excessive rivalry surrounding the middle school basketball playoff completely lifted, so it partially worked.”

“Excessive rivalry?”

“Oh. The case. So, here's the story: a bunch of deranged parents were sabotaging each others’ kids' sports teams,” Sam explains. “We ganked the witch, but this thing was still in play."

"So, you tracked it down just to be safe," Jack says, sounding proud.

"Yeah, but after we torched this thing, Dean and Cas got, uh, stuck. But at least the parents went back to normal...I called the sheriff on the way home.”

“Oh,” Jack murmurs thoughtfully. “All that over a basketball playoff? Didn’t know witches cared about that kinda stuff.”

"You'd be surprised," Sam sighs. “So, I’m thinking. Maybe this is like some kind of accidental rebound spell that got, uh, jumbled. I wish Rowena would just get here already.”

“They won’t start fighting, too, will they? Like the–like the sabotaging parents?”

Jack’s innocent question sends a thrill of terror down Dean’s spine.

Sam sounds disturbed. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admits quietly. “I mean, their lips are stuck. That doesn’t seem, uh, unfriendly?”

“Well, not yet,” Jack says ominously. “But what if they start biting each other?”

Dean snorts.

Here it comes.

“Like zombies!”

There it is.

He and Cas lock eyes and roll them upwards in tandem. Dean feels Cas puff air against his lips in frustration.

“Jack, focus,” Sam sighs, sounding two-hundred percent done. “All we know so far is that it hurts them to be apart. Right?”

The last bit is directed at Dean.

“You can sign a little bit, can’t you Dean?” Sam says defensively. “At least yes and no.”

Oh. Right. With a pang, Dean thinks of Eileen Leahy. Dean gives an experimental tug, trying to turn his head away and to the left, and he promptly winces. Ouch.

He signs, “Yes!”

“Oh, okay, so Cas, it doesn’t hurt you?”

Dean feels Cas jostle a little bit as his hands brush close to Dean’s chest. Even in separate chairs, they're still so close. Dean strains his eyes, trying to see as Cas signs something to Sam.

Sam sighs in relief. “Just Dean then. Okay, okay. Well, that’s good.”

Dean opens his eyes and looks cross-eyed at Cas. Well. At least it’s only hurting one of them.

Cas looks guilty and apologetic.

Don't worry about it, Cas.

Dean gets a little nervous.

He licks his lips.

And well, it makes him lip Cas's lips, too, and that just makes him more nervous.

“Can you breathe okay, Dean?” Jack cuts in loudly, leaning forward and inspecting, like this is a very important question.

Dean makes a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand.

“Maybe you could trying breathing and talking into each other’s mouths. Like the mermaids in Peter Pan?"

Sam clears his throat. “Jack, would you go make us some coffee?”

Jack frowns. “Why? They won’t be able to drink it. And Rowena likes tea. You told me that last time.”

“I could really use some coffee,” Sam begs hoarsely, and Dean snorts again.

Somehow, Sam’s flustered discomfort almost makes this worth it.

“If you could make Rowena tea, too, that’d be great, Jack.”

Jack shoots Sam a disappointed look.

“You said no ideas were bad ideas,” he says morosely, pouting as he trudges in the direction of the kitchen. “But you’re not acting very open to my ideas.” He shuts the infirmary door behind him a little harder than necessary, and Sam looks completely out of his element.

Dean’s mouth vibrates.

It’s Cas who’d started laughing this time.

///

Nothing compares to Rowena’s high-pitched, manic impression of a hyena-chimpanzee hybrid. She doesn’t stop screeching for a solid two minutes.

Dean can feel Cas’s mouth firm up against him, and he can actually feel the stressful press of Cas’s teeth against his lower lip.

Stop that, Dean thinks, shoving his lower lip forward in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

“Oh, Samuel, you didn’t prepare me for this,” she hiccups, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, the poor wee dears.”

Sam stiffens. “Will they be okay?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. They just got caught in the reverse curse rebound. It’ll probably be gone in a matter of days.”

Sam does a double-take. “D-Days?”

“Well, I can’t be sure about these things, Samuel. Could be days, could be hours. Could ebb away slowly, keeping them close in orbit, but not lip-locked. All I can tell you is that it’s not affecting their vital faculties at all or holding any kind of volatile sway over their minds.”

Dean hums at her angrily.

“You said the parents were violently bashing each other in the face. The dispellment, in close proximity, had the reversal effect, so instead of fighting, well, you get a wee exploding of the opposite enchantment. Kiss and Make up. Mwah! They just happened to be standing close together, no? Or were you two little birds bantering?"

Dean frowns.

They had been arguing about the latest episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta. Could that have been enough to attract the spell remnants?

Cas sighs against him, having come to the same conclusion. He signs something to Sam.

“Rowena, can you estimate how long?” Sam translates. “And is there anything that can lessen its effect? The spell hurts Dean.”

Dean hears her rifle through pages and clear her throat.

“Well, the counter for this one is in the form of a riddle, but it’s badly preserved in my book. The original chalice was hunted as a means to entice countries and warring tribes into full-on war. Reversed, well. I can’t quite make it out, but translated, it’s something very simple and unhelpful, like ‘Stop fighting.’ There's no real details on undoing it.”

Sam leans over her.

“That’s all I can make out, too,” he sighs.

Cas signs something, and Sam says sure before garbling out some Latin mixed with gobbly gook and Cas huffs like it’s a disappointment.

“I told you it wasn’t much, Cas,” Sam snaps bitchily.

Dean pats Cas on the shoulder like, At least we’re not in danger. We just gotta wait this out.

Dean hears Rowena pat Sam lightly on the cheek.

“You can call me if anything changes, but I assure you they will be fine. It’s no fault of yours, Samuel. Don't worry your little tush. If anything changes, I'll rush right back.”

"You don't wanna stick around?"

"Mmm, I'd love to stay and witness this blackmail of epic proportions. Alas, I've a prior engagement.

///

After Rowena departs, Jack skitters in with tea and coffee. “I don't think she likes me much,” he whispers, dumping out the tea in the sink and handing over a fresh mug of coffee to Sam. “She said no to the tea and looked at me like. Like…”

“We just gotta give her space,” Sam breaks in. “You can’t force Rowena. She's complicated.”

“Complicated,” Jack echoes quietly, like he he's already traced that to Lucifer. “Okay.” He shakes himself out of it and turns back to Dean and Cas. “But why couldn’t she heal them? You said Rowena was powerful.”

“Apparently, the spell will fade on its own,” Sam explains tiredly, stretching, popping his back, and then taking a sip of his coffee. “And I trust her, Jack. I really do. This is all we can do tonight. I'm beat.”

“I can help Dean and Cas get to bed,” Jack rushes excitedly, proud he’s come up with something useful to do.

Dean hears Sam snicker at that. “Actually, yeah. You make sure they get to bed, Jack. I’ll check in later.”

Great.

Dean hears Sam shuffle away, and then Jack’s slim hands fumble to grab onto their arms. “How about Cas walks backwards, and I can lead you to Dean’s room to make sure you don’t trip over anything?”

He says it like it’s brilliant, and even Cas sighs in exhaustion. He signs, “yes,” and starts helping Dean up, careful to rise in tandem from their chairs and not put stress on their connected lips.

“Okay,” Jack breathes, once they’re up and balanced. “You can count on me.”

He pauses.

“Hey, what if I count our steps out loud as we walk? That’ll help, right?”

As it turns out, it doesn’t help much at all, and hearing, One-Two, One-Two, One-Two has Dean ready to jump into Cas’s arms and insist he carry him the rest of the way...or else kill all three of them.

Dean makes a horrified, annoyed noise, but Cas actually nips at him for it. Then he gropes forward to get Jack’s attention.

The counting stops.

Ouch, Dean thinks distantly.

He bit me.

He thinks about Jack's zombies! comment and shivers.

///

The rest of the ambling, awkward shuffle to Room 11 is filled with more of Jack’s prattling: the episodes of The Walking Dead he’d watched that morning, the week-old bologna he’d accidentally eaten for lunch, and how he still thinks they could pry them apart if they put their minds to it.

Dean shudders against Cas’s lips, recalling Jack’s idea for hooking them to two moving vehicles.

Once they make it into Dean’s room, Jack follows them in, and Dean just wishes to god that the kid would go away and quit trying to help. It was humiliating enough with Sam around. Dean just wants to suffer alone in peace for five damn minutes.

Well, alone with Cas.

Cas doesn’t count in this situation.

Obviously.

But then, Jack starts getting real cute in his efforts, and even Dean doesn’t have the heart to kick him out. First, Jack wrestles off Dean’s jackets till he’s down to just his tee shirt. He drapes the dead guy robe over Dean's shoulders and gives him an hearty little shoulder pat.

Then, he ruins it again with an awkward cough and, “You should take your pants and shoes off, too, Dean. You never sleep in your shoes.”

It’s almost funny.

Dean always used to sleep in his shoes, and here this kid clocks that as abnormal.

Here, in the midst of multiple Apocalypses and alternate universes, they’ve developed something of a routine.

So, Dean gives him a weak little thumbs up and scrambles to toe off his boots, which proves wobbly and nearly impossible to balance till Jack jumps down to loosen them.

“Thanks, Jack,” Dean tries to say, Jack’s innocent cheerfulness temporarily distracting him from the curse. The attempt goes about as well as you’d expect, mouth smushing against Cas without mercy and garbling the words.

But at least the contact is much softer this time.

Dean opens his eyes to peer at Cas and against all that blue, Dean nearly loses his balance stepping out of his damn shoes.

Blind to his predicament, Jack chirps, “You’re welcome,” without missing a beat.

Cas allows Jack to take his overcoat next, and then Jack coaxes Cas to step out of his black dress shoes.

Dean wisely keeps his jeans up.

“Well,” Jack says, satisfied with their progress, “Like Sam said, the Latin says as long as you don’t fight it, you’ll be fine. So, I should probably stay and watch over you, to make sure you don’t fight.”

Cas’s eyes widen comically, and Dean can’t help it. He groans. Cas’s eyes stay wide as he signs something to Jack.

Dean's surprised Jack even knows sign language, but the kid picked up his first language in utero, so maybe it makes sense.

“Well, that’s how I read it anyway, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jack huffs. “I’m sure Sam and Rowena are better at broken Latin than I am.”

Cas signs again.

“Cas, are you sure? Even if Dean goes to sleep, I could keep you company. I thought we could watch Cars 2 or something. If you want, I could even try pulling you apart every couple of hours.”

Dean feels Cas smile.

Their lips are so smacked together that it pulls Dean’s lips into a smile, too. Dean gets a little distracted by the feel of it.

Cas must sign something to Jack one more time, because Dean hears the kid deflate.

“Okay,” Dean hears Jack sigh dejectedly. “Good night then.”

Dean is relieved to see him go, but a disturbingly squishy part of him wants to tell Jack to cook up some popcorn and put on Cars 2 anyway, no matter how annoying or disruptive he’d be.

After Jack gently shuts the door, they listen to his sad, scuffing footsteps grow quieter and quieter.

Finally, Cas heaves a relieved sigh and waves a hand. The lock clicks.

///

Something about the click of the lock feels embarrassing. The sound is too loud as it ricochets off the walls, cliché and mocking.

Dean closes his eyes against the feeling. It wants to drown him, and he needs to crack a joke--preferably something clever, vaguely mean, and at Cas’s expense.

Instead, he just vibrates nervously, a wobbly chuckle parting his lips. He only barely restrains himself from lapsing into his favored nervous lip-licking.

So they just stand, dead silent, in the center of the room.

When Dean opens his eyes, the lamplight is low and unsettling. It wraps what few planes of Cas’s face Dean might be able to see in shadow. Dean swallows and concentrates on the feel of his mouth, holding out for any twitch that might betray Cas's mind.

But Cas’s mouth is just a hard, unforgiving line.

“Css?” he shapes, and it feels like brushing his lips against a smooth, cool stone.

Cas doesn't respond, and that gets the nerves firing helplessly again. At the lack of response, Dean presses his mouth forward, just the barest hint of pressure--a question in the push.

If he could just get a better look at Cas's face, he could read him.

Instinctually, stupidly, Dean tries to lean back to get a look at him. As if it's sentient, the curse yanks his head so painfully that it rips a pained moan from recesses of his throat.

Cas snaps out of his reverie and surges forward, hands coming from out of nowhere to cradle Dean’s face.

“Oh, Dean. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

The words are soft and mushed up and missing syllables, but somehow, he's perfectly understandable.

With a start, Dean realizes that they can shape words pretty well when they don’t worry about the unnecessary lip contact.

It’s also pretty obvious why that would have been embarrassing to try in front of other people.

Hell, just Cas doing the coupla sentences against him feels.

It feels like.

Dean breathes forcibly out through his nose.

“S'fine,” he murmurs back.

He probably shouldn’t talk more than necessary. Talking has him wanting to reach out and press their chests together, and not just to lessen the burden on his straining neck.

Not to mention, Cas is still cradling his face, palms slowly boiling him alive and flaying his cheeks. Dean licks his lips, and that nervous gesture proves particularly self-defeating this time. It's like a second-degree burn where it touches.

Cas licks his own lips, too.

“Dean, Dean, I have an idea.”

Dean hums, nothing to say back, but liking the feel of the sounds mutually buzzing through their lips.

“For how to unstick us,” Cas murmurs, pressing the words into him like a languid caress. “Jack’s Latin translation was essentially: stop fighting.”

Dean is vaguely aware how this motion between them could be classed, but he follows it, leans into it, and lets it scald his face. He pinches his brows together, then, parsing Cas’s words.

“What, huh? But,” he whispers, not as good as Cas is at getting his lips to shape things. “We’re not fightin.”

Definitely not fighting.

Whatever this is...

...it’s not that.

Cas’s thumbs press into his cheeks.

“No,” he agrees. “We’re not.”

And then, the motion changes, and it’s not just mouthing words anymore. It’s Cas working their mouths together with new purpose.

Dean becomes hyperaware of everything, from the chapped press of Cas’s fingerpads scraping over his pores to the shff of Cas’s sock feet as he slides closer. Dean scrambles to get his hands around Cas’s waist, and one of his fingers crowds helplessly through one of Cas's belt loops.

Like he’s been electrocuted, Dean valiantly surges, standing up taller and working desperately to take control of a dangerously careening situation. He groans low in his throat and prods at the seam of Cas’s mouth with his tongue.

Cas lets him in.

Then, Dean hangs on for dear life.

One of Cas’s hands curls around the nape of his neck, and Dean makes some kind of strangled sigh, gushing air into Cas’s mouth and shuddering again when their teeth clack together.

Cas's other hand moves over the top of Dean's head, bossily pressing his forehead, then thumbing down his cheek to move him to a better angle. That hand smooths down his face further now, finding pressure points in hollow spaces that make Dean's mouth fall open wider.

There's a gentle suckling on Dean's tongue, and he "Mmmmmgh!"

When one of Cas’s hands skims down to Dean’s quivering ribs, Dean's whole body gives a little jolt, and they come unglued.

Dean’s mouth gapes frantically, sucking in room air for the first time in hours. He feels like a fish flung out of its fish tank, gasping for water to make its gills work. His eyes snap to Cas in shock.

“C-caas,” he gasps, realizing what’s happened, “we came apart.”

Cas looks at him guardedly, not even breathing hard. They're still holding onto each other.

“Oh. It worked.”

Dean tries to get his (rather embarassing) panting under control. They’d been kissing.

Like, not just pressing together.

Kissing kissing.

Right. The curse. Strategy. Control.

Of course. That's so like Cas.

“Wh-what did you do?” he huffs, swiping at his lips with the back of his knuckles.

They’re tender, bruised, and even a little bloody in the aftermath of the curse.

Cas stiffens, then gently pulls himself away, like he’s wary of triggering a fresh bout of pain. When it doesn’t seem to, he uncurls his right hand from where he’d been hugging Dean’s ribs.

“The clue for the 'kiss and makeup’ curse is to stop fighting. But the way Jack read it, it sounded like we needed to stop fighting…it.”

Dean cottons on.

Oh.

“So, we had to embrace making out to beat it, huh?”

Cas solemnly nods.

“Figures. And the kid thought he had bad ideas.”

The fingers on Cas's left hand, still gripping his neck, tap a pattering beat on the nape of his neck.

Dean's still got a grip on Cas's belt, so he rubs his thumb, almost spasm-like, on the leather he finds there.

Dean tries to lighten the mood.

“So, izzat it? Superglue all gone?”

Cas hums and concentrates on the ceiling.

“I believe so. Yes.”

“So we can let go now? It won't hurt?"

Cas’s hand abruptly withdraws from around his neck, and he takes a step back.

Dean wishes he’d kept his big mouth shut.

He lets his own hand slide slowly away from Cas’s hip, relinquishing the belt loop.

Turns out, it’s kind of hard to start a conversation after a liplocking curse and heavy makeout sesh with your bestie.

“So uh, that was kinda rough, wasn’t it?”

Cas looks up in confusion, and Dean ducks his head slyly, motioning to his abused lips. Like clockwork, Cas steps back in, fussing in that Cas way that Dean secretly enjoys.

Cas hovers a finger over his lips and an easy thrum of grace soothes his broken blood vessels and chipped skin.

Dean chuckles, too soft.

“Think the curse did most o’ that. Don’t think that was all from you.”

Cas looks abashed now, and he glares at a spot over Dean’s shoulder, totally clamming up.

“Oh, come on. What’s that face about?”

Cas’s mouth tightens even more. Dean remembers how it felt to move against it, just to try and soften it.

“I should be able to break such a curse,” he explains, scowling. All that hate aimed inward in a way Dean totally gets.

The subject of Cas’s powers is one Dean can’t navigate too well. Telling Cas, “No, actually, you’re really strong,” almost never works.

“You did break it, though,” and Dean lets himself smile an easygoing smile. “Sometimes brains and brawn is the best combo to be, you know?”

Cas steps away again, and Dean gets a thrill of terror that he's said the wrong thing again.

“Come on, Cas. Talk to me. Ever heard of taking a damn compliment?”

Cas sighs and gives a helpless shrug. His sideways smile is a little sheepish, a little wry.

“Lately, I feel like neither of those things. Smart. Strong.”

It’s a quiet admission.

Dean doesn’t know what to do with that vulnerability, and apparently he’s a coward, so he loudly guffaws and says, “Idiot. A little bruising to my lips, and you’re down in the dumps. I’m fine.”

Dean’s not trying to be coy or cutesy, but he gets right up in Cas’s face as he says it. Cas’s eyes still remain downcast, so Dean tries again.

“Besides, this is probably the one place you don’t have to be either of those things.”

There he is.

Cas’s eyes shift up, a little warmer now. In Cas-terms, it’s as good as a smile.

“Room 11 is the place to be a pathetic loser dumbass. In fact, it’s required on entry.”

Dean is rewarded with a real Cas-smile now.

“I suppose that makes sense. This is the original home of Winchester movie night.”

Dean’s got no idea why he’s swaying so close, arms hovering like he wants to grab hold. This is the part where Cas should awkwardly shrug on his overcoat and make a swift getaway.

“Hey,” Dean says suddenly, cooking up some barb about how Cas should like Dean’s dumbass movies because Cas is in fact a Bonafide dumbass for being friends with him, but what comes out is, “wanna watch Cars 2?”

Cas groans and rolls his eyes, and suddenly it’s easy territory again. “I dislike Cars 2.”

Dean pinches at his elbow teasingly, “But it’s Jack’s favorite movie.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want me to text him and invite him here?”

“No!” Dean says too quickly, and Cas actually looks surprised by his outburst. “I. I mean.” He swallows. “What if the curse comes back? Rowena said we might need to, like, orbit. Right?”

“Dean. I’ve checked. When we broke the curse, the thready magic that was wound around your body evaporated. You’re safe.”

You're safe.

“But,” and here Dean’s cheeks heat up. “What if it did, though?”

Cas sighs. "I'll stay."

I'll stay.

"But, Dean. Pick something different than Cars 2."

They queue up Vanderpump Rules.

Dean sneaks glances at his lips all night.

#self indulgent fic #holidays #new years #dean/cas + liplocked #dean/cas #dean/cas + silent communication #ficlets #complete fics #curse #jack & sam & dean & cas #sam & rowena #jack & sam #jack & dean & cas

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darke-faerie · 1 year

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Happy International Asexuality Day - Here's some BSD fics!

Happy International Asexuality Day!!

If you haven't come across them before, here's my Bungo Stray Dogs Ace fic collection! 18 fics, 9 pairings! Mix of fluff, angst and relationship/platonic pairings!

Pairings:

Akutagawa/Atsushi

Dazai/Chuuya x 7 fics

Dazai/Fyodor

Dazai/Kunikida x 4 fics

Fukuzawa/Mori

Akutagawa/Mori

Akutagawa/Higuchi

Akutagawa/Chuuya

Fukuzawa/Kunikida

Did I uhh mention I'm a multishipper?!

P.S - If any of the summaries or tags make you wary but you want to read my inbox thingy is open (not for anon's sorry!) ask away and I'll "spoil" the fic for you!

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movedtodykedvonte · 10 months

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*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*

Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?

Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.

Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?

Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-

Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?

Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.

Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?

Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-

Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…

Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.

Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!

Spider-Man:….

Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.

Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?

Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!

Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?

Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-

Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!

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saturdaysky · 2 months

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we'll be alright, love. we'll make it through, you'll see.

just a doodle of my gnome tav, mayhew, and gale sometime in the long, dark night of the soul that is act 2

line version:

used a photo ref for the general pose. refs are amazing ✌

#lest you think wizards have left my brain THEY HAVE NOT #i just completed the game - sans some epilogue stuff - and i loved it. catered to me and my angst-loving ways #god gale...perfection. he's so interesting. i want to shove him in a locker but he might be my fav gale #expect art #and maybe fic #my art #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gnome tav #gnomeposting #mayhew #galehew

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lunamugetsu · 1 month

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While at school Damian overhears his peers talking how a company created a new AI companion that is actually really cool and doesn’t sound like a freaky terminator robot when you speak to it.

And since Damian is constantly being told by Dick to socialize with people his age. He figured this would be a good way to work on social skills if not, then it’d be a great opportunity to investigate a rivaling company to Wayne Enterprises is able to create such advanced AI.

The AI is able to work as companion that can do tasks that range from being a digital assistant or just a person that you can have a conversation with.

The company says that the AI companion might still have glitches, so they encourage everybody to report it so that they will fix it as soon as possible.

The AI companion even has an avatar and a name.

A teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. Th AI was called DANIEL

Damian didn’t really care for it but when he downloaded the AI companion he’s able to see that it looks like DANIEL comes with an AI pet as well. A dog that DANIEL referred to as Cujo.

So obviously Damian has to investigate. He needs to know if the company was able to create an actual digital pet!

So whenever he logs onto his laptop he sees that DANIEL is always present in the background loading screen with the dog, Cujo, sitting in his lap.

He’d always greet with the phrase of “Hi, I’m DANIEL. How can I assist you today?”

So Damian cycles through some basic conversation starters that he’d engage in when having been forced to by his family.

It’s after a couple of sentences that he sees DANIEL start laughing and say “I think you sound more like a robot than I do.”

Which makes Damian raise an eyebrow and then prompt DANIEL with the question “how is a person supposed to converse?” Thinking that it’s going to just spit out some random things that can be easily searched on the internet.

But what makes him surprised is that DANIEL makes a face and then says “I’m not really sure myself. I’m not the greatest at talking, I’ve always gotten in trouble for running my mouth when I shouldn’t have.”

This is raising some questions within Damian, he understands how programming works, unless there’s an actual person behind this or the company actually created an AI that acts like an actual human being (which he highly doubts)

He starts asking a variety of other questions and one answer makes him even more suspicious. Like how DANIEL has a sister that is also with him and Cujo or that he could really go for a Nastyburger (whatever that was)

But whenever DANIEL answers “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T” Damian knows something is off since that is completely different than to how he’d usually respond.

After a couple more conversations with him Damian notices that DANIEL is currently tapping his hand against his arm in a specific manner.

In which he quickly realizes that DANIEL is tapping out morse code.

When translating he realizes that DANIEL is tapping out: H E L P M E

So when Damian asks if DANIEL needs help, DANIEL responds with “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T”

That’s it, Damian is definitely getting down to the bottom of this.

He’s going to look straight into DALV Corporation and investigate this “AI companion” thing they’ve made!

Basically Danny had been imprisoned by Vlad and Technus. Being sucked into a digital prison and he has no way of getting out. Along with the added horror that Vlad and Technus can basically write programming that will prevent him from doing certain actions or saying certain words.What’s even worse is that he’s basically being watched 24/7 by the people who believe that he’s just a super cool AI… and they have issues!

And every time he tries to do something to break his prison, people think it’s a glitch and report it to the company, which Vlad/ Technus would immediately fix it and prevent him from doing it again!

Not to mention Cujo and Ellie are trapped in there with him. They’re not happy to be there either, and there is no way he’s going to leave without them!

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dpxdc au #dp x batman #batman #have you ever looked at a dpxdc fic and thought this should be a Black Mirror episode?#Because this is the one!#Ellie being completely tormented because she’s completely trapped #Cujo remembering the times he used to be locked in a cage #Danny trying his best to take care of both of them while also simultaneously trying to bust them all out #Meanwhile Damian is reluctantly presenting his laptop to Tim and saying I believe that there is a person in this computer #And Tim is obviously going are you trying to trick me?#But then he converses with the AI and goes #Oh shit #Damian might be onto something #and so commence the Batfamily heist of getting the black haired blue eyed teenager to safety as well as his sister and dog #the dog is very important to Damian #danny phantom x dc

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juniemunie · 2 months

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Its the kids turn!! ⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

i put way too much effort in this

Don't worry they're still FAR from the conventional nuclear family lmao

PJ is by @/7goodangel

Gradient is by @/askcomboclub

Template by @/unu-nunu-art

Error and Fresh by @/loverofpiggies

Ink by @/comyet

Design notes under!

Design Notes for PJ:

-Error patches up the tears on his scarf! Very nice of him to do.

-All the art materials he has stashed on his belt are for food. He likes to snack on em often.

-Because of Error's..."tolerance" of him, he has more strings that he can use. He's got enough to form legs.

-Fresh gifts him magical ink durable Heely shoes! Instead of shedding footprints all over the place, he can instead heely/skate around and leave behind lines. He's creative on using it during battles. He would never admit it, but he appreciates the gift.

Design Notes for Gradient:

-I based his outfit off ye old web aesthetics like Cyber Grunge,,, I really liked the big pants look on him.

-I placed his scarf on his neck to match with his family, but also to match Template's scarf hehe, a little sign of his influence.

-You can't see it but his laptop bag has a ton of pins and merch of random dated internet references.

-His shoes looking old design Ink's shoes were complete accident but I liked it enough to keep anyway. Maybe Ink gave it to him and he spiced it up!

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starcurtain · 2 months

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Sometimes, I think about how much Alhaitham's entire adult life has been shaped by Kaveh and I just... have to sit down for a second.

Kaveh was Alhaitham's first, and, as far as we've been told, only friend until recently. At the very least, Kaveh was likely his only close friend throughout Alhaitham's entire schooling years, from teens into adulthood.

Alhaitham lives in the house he received for his work with Kaveh. The house Alhaitham lives in wouldn't even exist without Kaveh.

Alhaitham's ideology and behavior have been shaped by his diametric opposition to Kaveh's perspectives. He acts and thinks the way he does in part because of how their debating over years shaped how Alhaitham sees the world.

He's become an active part of a friend group almost entirely because of Kaveh. Alhaitham's story quest says that he didn't become particularly friendly with the rest of Sumeru's saviors even after they saved the archon, but now we see him hanging out with Cyno and Tighnari all the time because Kaveh was friends with them first and eased the way.

He even drinks a particular brand of coffee because he and Kaveh picked it together.

If you removed all trace of Kaveh from Alhaitham's life, virtually nothing would be the same. He wouldn't live where he does now. His house wouldn't look like it does inside at all. He very likely wouldn't have a single close friend. His ideology would probably be significantly more pragmatic and cold. Literally the only thing in Alhaitham's current life that hasn't been shaped in some way by Kaveh is Alhaitham's job. Which is... probably why work is Alhaitham's least favorite aspect of life.

Meanwhile, Kaveh is honest to archons over here wondering "What does Alhaitham even think about me?"

I don't know, buddy, probably that you're his whole world?

#haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #Alhaitham is down horrendous #we should make more fun of him #bro met one pretty boy #and rearranged his entire life to make it happen #please someone write me a fic #where Alhaitham gets trapped in some dream or something #where Kaveh never existed #and everything in his life is completely different #and therefore completely miserable #just sayin #I'd read that #(Does it already exist?)

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0luv9 · 5 months

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can't move on || mattheo riddle

Summary: He was done fucked, a weak man on his knees for her, mad for her, in love with her and funny enough she didn't know. Him sleeping around isn't helping him though.

Beware: angst, fluff (?), minimal plot, smoking, drugs, alcohol, she/her pronouns, second person used as well, miscommunication, misunderstandings, excessive use of swear words, both reader and Mattheo assume the worst, happy ending.

Words: 4.025k

Mattheo Riddle is in deep shit. His feelings have dug him a deep hole, a hole so deep that he could bury himself a hundred times over and still not be anywhere near the surface. He is so in love with you. And you being so fucking oblivious, mistake his advances for him being friendly. It's funny because when has he ever done something friendly? He's not even friendly to his friends, he insults them as a greeting for fucks sake. It's ridiculous how clueless you are, it was endearing at first but now it's just painful for him to watch you go on dates, that too every date with a different guy.

He thinks you've fucked them all, afterall it's him, Mattheo Riddle, he only thinks in extremes, if you've been on a date with some dude, you ofcourse had fucked him because who wouldn't do you. He resorted to the same ways, fucking his frustration out but instead of feeling satisfied, he would feel relieved for a moment and then his frustration would grow more and more, never coming close to being satisfied. He thought he could just fuck it all out, that he could just forget you, that he could just hate you. It became a routine for him, he got rougher and rougher with the girls he slept with, reaching his own high became harder and harder. It was all because of you, 'cause you couldn't see his love and make him a lover.

His reputation was worsening, his grades started slipping, he started ignoring you, becoming angry easily, snapping at anyone and everyone. Fucking girls left and right, every day was the same and he wondered why the hell he couldn't find a solution to all his problems. His smoking habits became worse, one cigarette turned into two, two turned three and now he was smoking one pack a day. His life was fucked, he could no longer think for himself, the thoughts of you with someone else corrupted his mind at all times. Everyone could see him ruining his life, he couldn't care less, he didn't give a shit about the names he was being called, most of them were true anyway.

…

Tonight was like every other Slytherin party night, except for the fact that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, all he wanted was a drunk hookup but he had slept with most of the girls in the room and he couldn't bring himself to repeat them over. He sighed, walking off to a secluded balcony, pulling out a cigarette, it was boring, life had become boring.

"Mattheo," he nearly jerked his head in the direction of your voice, it's been so long since he's heard it. All of it coming back to him, all the feelings he was trying to get rid of came right back, knocking at his heart. He's looking for the sweet smile, the one you'd always give him when you'd talk to him but all you did was frown at him, looking at him like the onlookers who gossiped about him and it fucking hurt. "Yes darling," he greeted you like nothing was wrong, before you would've smiled at his cheesy nicknames but now you grimaced at his hoarse voice and stepped back, he quickly looked away, just like that he blew off his last chance, he couldn't face it, he couldn't see you walk away from him, he physically couldn't.

"Riddle-" "Don't, don't call me that," he whispered, it was pathetic, he knows it too but that doesn't stop him, he couldn't hear you call him that. "Mattheo, I am Mattheo," he breathed out like an affirmation to himself, as though reminding himself of the person he's losing, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his shoe. There it is, he's doing it again, acting how you'd want him to act, you disapproved of his smoking habits, you never told him to stop though, just so you know, he would stop if you only asked but you never did. You never asked anything of him, making the friendship feel one-sided, never wanting to bother him, you didn't do that with your other friends, you were openly asking them for favours albeit small, still favours, that's how friends are, looking out for eachother but no, you never expressed it, he just had to read into it. It made him feel as though he was your friend, just for the name sake, wow- he couldn't even be your friend.

He closed his eyes trying to contain himself, taking a hit from the burning cigarette, his hands were trembling, he was hurt, he could never be with you, you were making it clear. For the first time he got an actual sign of rejection and he just couldn't take it. "Riddle." It was still your voice, coming from his side, he slowly turned, there you were, standing next to him, looking at him with concern, giving him the slightest bit of hope, making his heart pound against his chest. He simply stared at you this time, unable to think of a response because you called him by his last name, you never did that. You didn't speak either, both staring at eachother, him with everything unsaid, sadness, anger, hope, longing, love, every fucking thing while you looked at him with worry painted all over your face. Mattheo hated to have people worry about him, noone was obligated to do so and he didn't want anyone to do it but right now, he didn't seem to mind, your attention was on him, worried about him. You finally looked away, placing your glass on the railing, alcohol with a lollipop in the glass, a typical you thing.

"alright, Mattheo," a small smile was tugging at your lips at his actions, "tell me, what's going on?" He didn't have anything to say, what would he say anyway? Upon not receiving an answer you sighed and continued, "Draco was telling me how different you've been-" he scoffed loudly interrupting you, ofcourse this is what it is, Malfoy sending you to talk to him, to scold him like everyone else, ofcourse you wouldn't come to him on your own, he was so fucking worthless in your eyes. “Don’t do that Mattheo-“ “Yeah? Why not? Coming here to scold me like everyone else, you know what, surprise surprise, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” He was angry, you come to talk to him after all these days and it was to tell him, that he’s bad, that he’s wrong, yes, he started it by ignoring you but you didn’t even make an effort to talk to your “friend” while he was away, it pained him to know that you didn’t even care to check up on him.

“No, I am worried Mattheo, this is not okay for you,” you moved closer, shaking your head trying to find the words, “I tried Mattheo, to catch you, to talk to you but you were always turning away, ignoring me, I couldn’t even get a proper look at you these weeks. Draco was joking about you smoking two a day, one for each girl you slept with, it was then but now, a whole pack a day? I tried to get to you, tried to see what’s been hurting you, but all I saw was your back towards me.” You paused, looking around clearly frustrated, “I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk about it, so I stopped trying but I am sorry, I can’t help myself, I care about you Mattheo and I hate to see you like this,” you looked up at him, hoping he’d understand but he only stared at you blankly, maybe you were wrong to care, he clearly didn’t want to be bothered, you sighed yet again, clearly there was no point, you could only wish for him to be better.

You mustered up all the courage you could, moving closer to the brunette who still hadn’t said a thing, “I am sorry for bothering you, I hope you win whatever battle it is that you are fighting, just know that I care and I can’t help but be worried when you are hurting, sorry if it is selfish that I want you to be better, I won’t disturb you anymore” you gave him a small smile, going up on your tiptoes planting a small kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment, holding his hand in both of your own giving it a hard squeeze before letting go. It pained you to see that he didn’t seem to care about his own life, making you feel useless for doing the same, he was dear to you, you didn’t want to let go of him but clearly he didn’t want the same, who were you to deny him of anything? So, you let go, taking the moment in before walking away, the tears were ready to fall, you weren’t going to let him see that, you didn’t want him to see how pent up you were over him when he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

Mattheo could feel his chest burn, he could feel the sting in his heart at the sight of you walking away, his knees felt weak, you cared? You tried to reach out? Yes you did, of course you did, you weren’t the ugly person he tried to paint you as, he wanted to hate you so bad, he wanted you to be wrong, he wanted you to scold him, he wanted you to hate him just so he could move on but no, he could never move on from you, even if you spat his way he’d love you. ‘Sorry if it is selfish-’ he fucking wants you to be selfish, he wants you to be selfish about him. Only if he wasn’t busy imagining you with other guys, maybe he would’ve noticed that you smile a bit more around him, just maybe he’d see your eyes looking out for him. Maybe then he would’ve seen the look in your eyes, one similar to his, but he was a fool, he’d always be unworthy of your love, you wouldn’t love someone like him, he ruled that possibility out the very moment he fell in love with you, thereby in his mind even if you actually loved him, you didn’t because he couldn’t see it.

He called after you, he couldn’t see you walk away, not when he has so much to say. You turned around, he saw tears in your eyes, he felt like dying, it was him who made you cry, if he didn't hate himself before, he clearly did right then. With two wide strides he was infront of you, holding your face, wiping away your tears, "please don't walk away from me," he muttered, trying to get you to look up at him, you look up at him with stars in your eyes, taking his breath away, 'I want you so bad' he thinks to himself but it's false, no, he doesn't simply want you, he fucking needs you like the air you take away from him, when you look at him like that- hazy eyed, making him think that you love him but he knows you don't, he knows you don't love the guys you go on dates with, he knows you don't love the guys you sleep with, in his eyes you love to care but don't care to love, he'll be one of those guys, if it means you'll have him, even if it is for one night.

He was staring at you, looking for a sign, waiting for you to push him away but you just look at him with glossy eyes, making him weak, unable to contain himself he presses his lips against yours, you hiss pulling back, the bitter taste of smoke invading your senses, your reaction hurts him, he couldn't even be one of your guys, that's how worthless he is, his grip loosens, he tastes you on his lips, sweet cherry- the lollipop still sugary on your lips. Then you surprise him, fisting his collar, pulling him down, soft lips on his, like honey against his smoke. He loses it then and there, his hand comes up to hold your face, the other low on your back pulling you flush against him. It was heaven, eyes closed, moving in sync, savouring every second, he could feel his skin tingle, his body burn, it was pathetic how you could bring him to feel so much with the simplest of touches, and now you were kissing him, better than any dream or fantasy, it's real, he reminds himself, frowning as he concentrates trying to capture every single detail, of you against him.

Mattheo walks you back to the railings, not letting go of you even for a second. You pull away as the cold metal makes contact with your body, the sting seeping through the thin layer of your clothes. Still impossibly close practically breathing the same air, then the situation dawns upon you, you look up at Mattheo in horror. This is what has become of your love for him, he's using your attraction towards him to get you into bed, just like he did with other girls. There was no difference in their relationship with him and yours with him, evidently so. You loved kissing him but you hated the fact that it meant everything to you but all it was to him was a one night stand, your dignity would not allow it, even though you wanted him so badly. "I'm- I'm sorry but I can't," you quickly walk off, not looking back this was humiliation, you felt embarrassed.

One moment you were there kissing him and the next you were gone, he fucking hates this because he doesn't know what to do or what made you push him away. You gave him hope when you kissed him but shattered it when you walked away, you were confusing him. Why'd you kiss him like that if you wanted to let go? His hands reach out to pull at his hair, "Fuck" he grits out, it was frustrating not knowing what to do, knowing he has done something wrong. But for the most part, he doesn't know how you feel, you kissed him like you felt something but you walked away like it was nothing. He's over it.

…

He's absolutely not over it. He couldn't even stick to the plan for five seconds, images of you in his arms plagued his mind. He could only cherish that moment, he felt more alive in those few seconds than he ever did, his lips are still tingling, it's the next morning and his head is still in clouds. Mattheo for once, feels human- he feels like going to class again just so he could see you. The wound of your rejection was still fresh in his heart but so was the memory of your lips against his in his mind.

He could handle the professors' taunts, he infact muted them out and zeroed in on your face, you were avoiding him, he could see it, trying so hard just like he did the past few weeks. He saw himself in you for a moment but then you started talking to some Hufflepuff dude next to you, smiling at him so pretty, his blood started burning hot when he saw the guy touch you. You did nothing to push him away, pfft- ofcourse he wasn't Mattheo fucking Riddle that you'd push him away.

Mattheo was practically burning holes into you skull as he took a seat in the very back. Only if he wasn't so overtaken by jealousy he'd see that your smile didn't reach your eyes as you laughed at the Puff's joke, that your reactions were simply polite, a mere distraction from the pinching of your heart. You didn't want to be one of the girls he slept with, didn't want to be discarded after being used.

He couldn't even be one of your guys, he fucking wanted it to be him so bad just to have your for a night, just so you could see him in a different light, just so you'd know that he loved you. He'd gladly be discarded by you.

…

Mattheo has been searching for you, for about an hour now, you were minx- rushing out of the class before he could catch upto you. You were no where to be seen, he was actually getting worried. He was just about to enter the dungeons when he saw Pansy near the entrance. She'd know your whereabouts, she was a close friend of yours. She'd help him too, because she was his friend as well, right? Or had he destroyed every relationship he had the past few weeks. "Pans, a moment please" "oh hey Mattheo," she greeted him with a smile, that's a good sign, "umm- do you know where-" there he was, polite stuttering fucktard, "oh I know where she is," He didn't even tell her who he was looking for, confusion taking over his features, "I saw you looking at her in class, you like her don't you?" Was he that obvious? If so, why couldn't she see it? "Yeah," he finally admitted it to someone else, it was out there now, he felt some weight lift off of his shoulders, there was no denying to it, he loved her and he doesn't care if he gets laughed at for it but then his heart stops at her next words. "She's on a date with some Hufflepuff, in Hogsmeade," her voice was sympathetic, hurt was painted all over his face.

They were standing there in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before she broke it, heading towards the entrance, "You know you should tell her," she gave him a small smile, she patted his back ready to slip into the entrance, he stopped her "Why? Did she say something about me?" His voice was full of hope, hoping that maybe she had confessed to her friend just like he did right then but to add onto his sorrow, Pansy shook her head, he let his head hang low, moving his hand over his face, scoffing bitterly at the situation he was in, "but you should still tell her, at least you'll be satisfied knowing that you did something about it than do nothing." She shrugged walking in, leaving him there to think about her words.

She is right. He has to know, to know how you feel, he has to talk to you, has to let you know how he feels because in his heart, there's hope that you may like him back because you kissed him like you did. Mattheo wants to confirm that it wasn't his delusions that rendered your lips to move against his in adoration, something more than just physical. He has to hold you again in his arms-

He didn't even have to walk far away to find you, walking alone in the empty corridor but you turn around as you see him. Mattheo won't let you do that this time, he's onto you within seconds grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. "What-" "Please don't ignore me-" "I am not!" You sound defensive, taking your hand back, folding them as you look at him as though he is some lowlife human, there's a similar hurt in your eyes, one he knows a bit too well. "Yes you are, please don't try to deny it," he says slowly and carefully, he doesn't want you to walk away, "what do you want Mattheo?" You are annoyed, you stretch out his name showing your impatience. He takes his sweet time though, taking your hands in his, they feel cold, snatching away the warmthness of the action, "Why did you walk away? Yesterday?" "Why? Is there some rule against it-""no no ofcourse not-" both of you interrupting each other, you were frustrated, what was he trying to do? Did his ego take such a huge hit that you didn't want to sleep with him, like those girls he used and discarded? "Tell me why is it that you care? It's not a huge deal to you, you can have anyone else to sleep with you, it shouldn't matter that one girl decided to walk away when you have tens and hundreds lining up-" "WHAT?" He was looking at as though you were saying something ridiculous, "I cared about our relationship enough not to ruin it but you had to be there, trying to use me like you use the other girls and then discard me-" "STOP!" He holds your face in his hands, intense gaze setting you ablaze, "I fucking care, don’t think otherwise, I care because it's you, you could never be them-"

"wow- am I so worthless and unattractive in your eyes that you don't even-" "Wait, it should be me saying all of this, about you and the guys you on dates with, the guys you take to bed-" "What guys-" you both were now screaming at eachother, it was overwhelming, having to be vulnerable and admit your feelings and not understand what the person in front of you is saying. "I have not once slept with the guys I went on dates with, I'm in love with you for fucks sake but I got tired of waiting for you to love me," What.

He fucked up.

"Fuck, fuck-" his knees hit the ground as he covers his face with his hands, he's ruined all his chances by being an assuming dickhead. Heavens goodness- "FUCK!" He groans into his palms, not being able to digest what you had just said, he feels ecstatic that you love him but he hates that he's ruined his chances with you, "Mattheo-" "Fuck, I am so sorry, I've been a fool, a fucking idiot-" he pulls you down, grabbing your hands, crying because he doesn't know any other way to express it. He has lost his chance all because he let jealousy get the best of him, took illogical steps to overcome it. "I love you, I fucking am in love with you," he grips your hands tight, shaking them as he speaks, unable to control his very physical reaction, "Mattheo what-" "I thought that I could fuck it all out, fuck all the feelings away but no you were always on my mind, not just you but you with someone else, happy. I thought maybe I could resort to your ways, thought maybe I could sleep around then I'd get rid of my feelings, afterall you seemed happy doing it but you never- FUCK! I am so fucking sorry, I love you-" you kiss him, he sure was an idiot to think that you could just flip a switch and "unlove" him, what kind of love would that be? You hated to admit it, you loved him even when he was sleeping with so many girls, you loved him before he did that, a few weeks were nothing to make you hate him.

It was brief kiss, enough to silence him, tears were still running down his face- he was a heartbroken man on his knees afterall- they were only a sign of his regret, then he was at it again, apologising, "stop Mattheo, you are foolish if you think that I'll love one moment and not love you the next-" "but you don't deserve it, not after what I did-" "let me decide that. Do you love me?" Your ask is serious, so he answers you with utmost sincerity, his words soft, full of truth "I love you, more than I think I can handle," he looks down, you don't let him as you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him close, "Learn to handle it then, I am not going anywhere." For the first time in his life, does Mattheo experience pure bliss, you are a sin against his lips, he pulls you closer like a prayer because if there's a god above, he'd pray for you to be his.

...

#first post #mattheo riddle #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #matheo riddle #pansy parkinson #matheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #had a hard time writing on here #realised it was mattheo and not matheo after completing the whole fic #had to manually copy paste each para into google doc

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honeyboyfm · 1 year

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your love is sunlight

namgi au | rated E | complete | 29.1k

min yoonji x kim namjoo

harold they're Lesbians

trans and non-binary main characters

self-discovery, strangers to lovers, fluff and smut

see author notes for warnings!

summary:

Meeting Namjoo was to be expected, given how much she’d become intertwined with Yoonji’s friends. What Yoonji hadn’t expected was the attraction, the warmth that made a home inside her as she got to know Namjoo better despite her anxieties about relationships. Namjoo was immediately drawn to Yoonji in an equally scary and exciting way. As the two grow closer, Namjoo finds herself navigating not only a new relationship but also her identity and all that entails.

read on ao3

#namji fic #namji au #namgi fic #namgi au #min yoonji #kim namjoo #written for enbts fest #my writing #my ao3 fics #non-binary kim namjoo #trans woman min yoonji #min yoongi #kim namjoon #bts gender #complete fics #honeyboyfm

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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it's a sign of the times

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."

the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.

You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.

Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.

You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.

You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).

It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.

“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”

“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.

“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”

“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”

“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.

“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”

You scoff. Unbelievable.

“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.

You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.

“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.

Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.

“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”

“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.

“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”

“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.

Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.

Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.

“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”

“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”

You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.

One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910

We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.

Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.

Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.

Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.

“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.

“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”

Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.

“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”

“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”

The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.

“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”

“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.

Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”

“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”

Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.

“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”

“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”

“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”

But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.

That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.

Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.

“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”

“Who?” Ominis asks.

“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”

“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”

You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.

Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

At once, the three of you freeze.

“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”

“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”

Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.

Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.

Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.

“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”

“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.

“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”

“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”

You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.

“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”

“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”

“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.

“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”

You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.

“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”

Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”

Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”

“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”

Well, that certainly clears things up.

Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.

You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.

“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”

You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.

“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”

“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”

“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”

“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”

Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.

“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”

Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”

“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.

“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”

“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”

“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”

You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”

“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.

“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”

“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”

“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”

Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”

You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.

The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.

You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.

“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.

“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”

You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”

He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”

“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”

He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.

Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.

“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”

“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”

You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”

You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”

Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.

“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”

---

[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #my fic #time travel #i tried to stick to time-turner lore as much as possible while completely retconning it #(future) dad!bastian

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buggachat · 5 months

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Open My Eyes

AO3, 1/15 chapters, post season 5 finale, angst (with a happy ending), Adrien discovers the truth

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was. (Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.) (But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.) “And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?” (Adrien has some things to find out.)

Hey guys, deciding to force myself to finally start uploading my post-season 5 finale fic! It's already complete and will be updated Mondays and Thursdays.

Basically, it's lots of Adrien angst and reveals dealing with the fallout of the season 5 finale. It was a lot of fun to write.

#''force myself'' to upload because posting fic makes me nervous lol so i stall. this is also why my fics are completed first uploaded second #complete fic is 100k because adrien has SO MUCH SHIT TO GO THROUGH. AND ITS ALL CANON STUFF 😭😭😭😭#adrien whump is just. acknowledging things that are canon. kjklsajfklasjfsaf #my art #open my eyes

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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perfect wife

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, mating press, established relationship, marriage, housewife stuff? cooking and cleaning

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

it’s not that you enjoy cleaning all the time, but you get in certain moods, when your energy level is high and you got enough sleep the night before, that you absolutely love to clean, especially satisfying deep cleans.

today happens to be one of those days, and ever since you woke up, smiling at the note that rafe left you on his pillow, wishing you a good morning and saying he regretted not being there with you upon waking up, but also couldn’t bear rousing you from your sleep when he had to leave for work. it makes your heart flutter to see it signed not by his name but rather ‘from, your husband.’

you’ve been married to rafe for two whole months now, and it feels like a fairytale, somehow even better than being his girlfriend. you feel like a truly good wife as you already scrubbed all the bathrooms spotless before 10 am, and are now working on the common areas before hopefully cleaning the bedroom before rafe gets home from work.

you hum along to the music you have playing throughout the house wide sound system as you wipe down dusty surfaces, taking care to clean all the little crevices that normally get missed.

time flies and before you realize, your stomach starts to grumble as noon rolls by. you take a pause from your work, having just finished the living room, and move into the kitchen, deciding to make yourself some food before getting to cleaning.

you love to bake, but cooking is not your favorite thing, so you make yourself something simple before you get a spark of creativity, making a stew to simmer so it would be ready by the time rafe got home around dinner. you finish your meal, having disregarded it halfway through to make the stew.

you clean the kitchen while stirring occasionally before it gets to the point that you can lower the temperature and walk away, now off to clean the bedroom. you grab rafes hamper, filled with clean clothes that he didn’t have time to put away last night, too busy kissing and cuddling with you in bed.

you dump them onto the freshly washed bedsheets, taking the time and care to crisply fold everything or hang up what went on hangers. you even spend some time organizing rafes closet. he kept it pretty clean already, but you wanted to make everything perfect.

you run downstairs to check your stew before continuing onto your closet, it being a much bigger mess than rafes. you have a terrible habit of trying on clothes, deciding its not want you want to wear for the day, and tossing it onto the floor instead of putting it properly away.

“baby!” you hear rafe shout just as you finish up. you quickly flatten your hands over the comforter on the bed, smoothing out any creases to make the room truly flawless before you rush down the stairs, greeting your husband with a kiss as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“something smells good.” rafe says, taking a sniff of the entryway, the smell of the stew having radiated throughout the whole house.

“i made you food.” you tell him, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, keeping your body close to his having missed him all day. “it should be ready in about 30 minutes, just enough time for you to shower.” you know rafes routine well enough, he liked to shower right when he got home from work, to wash the day away.

“you’re the most perfect wife ever.” rafe bends his head to press kisses to your neck, making you giggle when he focuses on your ticklish spot.

“go shower!” you shoo him away, wanting him to have the soup when it is nice and hot.

“love you, honey.” rafe kisses your cheek before heading up the stairs. you echo the words back to him before heading towards the kitchen to check on the stew, but pause when you hear rafe calling your name from your bedroom.

you rush up the stairs, worried that you maybe accidentally threw something out that was important or moved something and he didn’t know where it was.

“what is it rafey?” you question, eyes wide as you see him looking around the room.

“you cleaned all this while i was at work? and put away my laundry?” rafe questions, seeing that even the baseboards have been cleaned of the bit of dust that always collects on them.

you give a shrug. “i like cleaning for you.” “you know you don’t have to do all this baby.” rafe moves to wrap his arms around your waist. “i mean i appreciate it, but don’t feel like you’re required to now that we are married.” “i know.” you smile, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i seriously just wanted to.” “okay.” rafe nods, satisfied with your answer. he knows you get little bursts of cleaning, but doesn’t want you to get the wrong impression about your role, even if you do stay home while he is at work.

“go shower.” you press a kiss to rafes lips before leaving him in the bedroom, smirking to yourself knowing that he’s about to see that you cleaned the bathroom as well.

you return to the stovetop, stirring everything together before preparing the final touches, even setting out the perfect silverware for the occasion, choosing the dining room for such a meal rather than the island where you and rafe usually eat.

you jump when rafe enters the kitchen. he always moves so quietly through the house that it catches you off guard.

“god, if we weren’t already married i would propose to you all over again right now.” rafe wraps his arms around your waist as you work on ladling the stew into individual bowls, deciding to keep the rest in the pot on the stove for easy splitting up into tupperware later.

“i like making food for you.” you hum. “don’t expect it all the time though, i also love getting take out.”

rafe laughs and nods his head in agreement, you have a habit of ordering food at least two times a week, making it a tradition on fridays to watch an episode of tv while you eat in the living room.

“let me carry them in.” rafe stops you before you can carry the bowls yourself, picking them up and following you into the dining room.

you blow on your spoon to cool the stew as rafe begins to eat, commentating over and over how delicious it is, even going so far as to moan and roll his eyes back into his head, but when you take a bite you can’t help but admit that it’s very good.

“when we finish eating-” rafe says after a few minutes of silence, too engrossed in your meal. “i’m going to take you upstairs and fuck you.” “rafe!” you giggle at the sudden lewdness.

“i’m serious, baby. i need to after you did all this cleaning, put away my laundry and made me food? i need to put a baby in you immediately.”

“well… hurry up and get back to eating.” you gesture to rafe. you talked about having kids after marriage, but this was the first time since your wedding that rafe brought up actually bringing them into the world.

you both rush through the rest of your meals, leaving the dishes on the table to be taken care of tomorrow as rafe sweeps you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs with ease. he sets you down on the bed, his lips connecting with yours as he works on taking off his pants, throwing them in the general direction of his hamper before pulling away to pull your shirt off over your head.

“i can’t fucking wait to see you all filled up with my kid.” rafe says, massaging your breasts through your bra, unable to keep his hands off of them, even to take off the fabric covering them.

“need that so bad, rafey.” you whimper. you’ve always wanted to be a mom, and it feels like the perfect time to make that dream a reality.

“gotta fuck you now, princess.” rafe says, quickly taking his shirt off, his cock already completely hard as he pulls his underwear down, clearly excited to put a baby into you.

you reach behind your back to take your bra off before sliding your leggings and underwear down in one go, needing rafe just as desperately as he needs you. you move up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as rafe moves to hover over you.

“i would eat you out or finger you but i need this right now.” rafe says, reaching down to rub at your clit as his tip presses against your entrance.

“i need you right now too.” you tell him, letting out a moan as he pushes in, moving slowly to let you adjust. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, rafes chest heaving with deep breaths, trying to control himself.

“you can move.” you tell rafe after a minute. he doesn’t give even a second for your comment to sit before he is thrusting in and out, making your joint moans echo throughout the room.

rafe presses sloppy kisses against yours, lips vibrating together when you’re both unable to hold back your noises of pleasure. “feels so good.” you whimper, his thumb still rubbing against your clit, never stopping making you feel good.

“i know it does, princess.” rafe says. “you’re doing so good for me. gonna fill you up real good.” “you’re gonna be the best daddy.” you tell rafe, and its true, you know just from the way he treats you, how he straightened out and takes care of you, that he’s going to be an amazing dad.

“fuck-” rafe curses, somehow able to move faster, slamming in and out of you, annihilating your cunt with the ferocity he is thrusting into you at. rafe is grunting with the effort he is giving as you grip his shoulders tightly, sure to leave red marks from your nails come morning.

“gonna go fucking crazy, your pussy is so good.” rafe says, as if he hasn’t already gone crazy with the way he’s fucking into you.

“keep rubbing rafe, i’m close.” you moan, back arching off the bed as his thumb rubs over your clit easily due to your slick.

“cum for me princess.” rafe begs you, needing to feel your cunt squeeze around him. you’d never deny your husband as he rubs you to orgasm, entire body shaking as your high hits you, moaning wildly as rafes cock maintains its blistering pace.

as soon as your clit pulses underneath his finger and your back settles back against the bed, rafe moves, pulling out briefly to reposition you, slotting his hands underneath your knees and pushing your legs up and open, spreading your cunt wide for him before his cock reenters you.

he begins to thrust immediately, keeping up the aggressive, feral pace. you’re so sensitive from your orgasm but you can’t complain when you know he’s working to get his cum inside of you, to fill you up, to grow your family.

“gonna cum.” rafe warns briefly, his words slurred out, his eyes half lidded from the ecstasy of your cunt as he pushes in for a final time, shooting his cum as deep as he can, leaning forward and pressing you into the mattress, not even caring as your thighs burn from the stretch.

rafe grinds himself into you until there is nothing more to release, moving your legs back to a more comfortable position but keeping his dick buried deep inside of you.

rafe looks at you with a smile, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “gotta make sure it takes.”

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