#<-are there any tags for the last cookie standing?????

[kumidark]

remembers how much i love toxic yuri affocara.............

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[propertyofwicked]

revenge

she just loves to cause chaos on the timeline, especially with the recent news of her best friends unemployment.

fewtrell!reader x platonic!f1grid smau

masterlist the playlist

yourusername has posted!

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and 75,926 others

yourusername training.

view all 5,421 comments

user1 she really said james vowels sleep with one eye open

landonorris timbers? shivered.

⤷ yourusername keep this attitude up and you're next.

⤷ landonorris who's first?

⤷ landonorris does it rhyme with tames towels?

user2 uh oh james is gonna reinstate the y/n williams ban

⤷ user3 there was ban? why?

⤷ user2 it was rumoured that james banned her from williams after australia due to a "heated conversation" about alex driving logan's car eek

⤷ yourusername i prefer the term "defending the innocent"

alex_albon remind me never to get on your bad side

⤷ yourusername as if you need reminding, albon

⤷ alex_albon i said i was sorry :(

⤷ yourusername you were specifically told no eating my cookies, no bullying logan and no bribing him for them either

⤷ yourusername and i caught you shouting "ill give you a tenner for that cookie u evil american bastard"

⤷ logansargeant and how do you plead alex_albon?

⤷ alex_albon ...guilty, your honour 😔

yourusername has posted!

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yourusername 'wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad...

tagged: lilyzneimer, logansargeant, oscarpiastri

view all 2,511 comments

user2 get him back lyrics in the caption??? what does it mean???

⤷ user4 'get him back' like enacting revenge on jv?

⤷ user3 i was thinking like she's getting pre-traumatised logan back?

⤷ yourusername perchance. mayhaps. potensh.

⤷ user2 you can't just say perchance??

user5 heavy on the "wanna make him feel bad" huh

user6 did someone say...twin bitches?

⤷ yourusername twin bitches.

⤷ logansargeant twin bitches hopping off a jet skiiiiiiii

jensonbutton have a good summer break guys!

alex_albon how burnt is he?

⤷ yourusername he's looking a little red....

⤷ oscarpiastri im covering him in aftersun as we speak

⤷ yourusername he looks like a squashie

⤷ logansargeant tf is a squashie?

⤷ logansargeant nvm i googled it you guys are mean

yourusername has posted!

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yourusername that one unemployed friend on a random tuesday

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell, lilymhe, logansargeant

view all 2,713 comments

yourusername p.s why have i been golfing more than once in the last week what has my life come to?

logansargeant too soon....

⤷ oscarpiastri not soon enough

⤷ logansargeant yo?

⤷ oscarpiastri i meant the joke not your career

lilymhe i love you, i love you. lets never go golfing together again.

⤷ yourusername what about pirate themed mini golf?

⤷ lilymhe i could be persuaded, but only if we dress up

⤷ yourusername deal. but i bagsy being a parrot.

landonorris you should stick to minecraft

⤷ yourusername google “lando norris biting the curb in 4k”

maxfewtrell the day you get good at literally any sport is the day i will stand corrected

⤷ yourusername oh yeah? and hows your career in sport going?

⤷ landonorris gagged.

⤷ yourusername the man dubbed no-wins for the majority of his career is piping up?

⤷ landonorris im on your side???

user5 all of y/n's friends absolutely violating her golf skills is sending me

⤷ yourusername friends? bro it's my own flesh and blood

yourusername has posted!

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yourusername my favourite animal is lando resisting the urge to get behind the dj booth

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell

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user8 tell him to stop resisting.

pietra.pilao you look so pretty 🤍

⤷ yourusername leave my brother, run away with me 🤍

user6 i don't understand how she knows like everyone??

⤷ user3 she's max's sister, but closer to oscar and logan in age so she met them when max was in f4 & f-renault

⤷ maxfewtrell ...much to my dismay

⤷ user4 logan really out here ensuring lando is never far from a fewtrell

⤷ yourusername truly 🙏 you'd think he'd be more grateful...

logansargeant nice shoes....

⤷ yourusername it’s my payment for being a portable friend, therapist, and comedian

⤷ logansargeant comedian is pushing it - pain in my ass, maybe

⤷ yourusername it'll be my foot in there next if u don't stfu

⤷ logansargeant kinky

maxfewtrell that is my 3rd pair of shoes ruined. you owe me.

⤷ yourusername were you not the one shouting "we should do shots!" anytime i came back to the table????

⤷ maxfewtrell doesnt matter. not everyone has rich friends to buy them news shoes when people throw up on them

⤷ yourusername true, not everyone does - but you do??

⤷ maxfewtrell he’s not my friend. we’re lovers.

⤷ pietra.pilao ???

⤷ landonorris ???

⤷ yourusername ???

creds to @/lecomptedelee on twitter for the picture

[kenzie-floops]

Visions of You: A Lilia Calderu x femaledivination!reader

Heyyyy this is my return to fanfic, but it's been a while so I'm a bit rusty. Constructive criticism not insults please! If you don't like it.. don't read it, it's that's simple.

This will be the first part of a new series I'm working on called Visions of You. Reader is a female divinations witch, around the same age as Lilia, but physical appearance is up to you. More will be revealed later, but a happy ending is in store!

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, or taken off, let me know!

Warnings: cussing

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

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I roll over and peep open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. 12:42. What the hell is someone banging on my door this time of day for? 

I push myself up out of bed, and wrap my robe around myself as I make my way to the door. 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! 

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” I shouted. Could they bang any harder on my door?!?

I quickly grab the front door and thrust it open, blinking quickly at the sunlight. 

“Yes? What do you need so urgently you almost banged my door down?” I grumpily ask the two strangers standing at my door as I attempt to wipe away some of the groggy sleep from my eyes. 

“Oh!” A shrill voice pipes up. “Sorry about that, we’re just in a bit of a rush. Didn’t mean to give you such a harsh wake-up. Although it is past noon on a weekday…” The voice trails off and I snap my head up.

I had to pick up an extra shift last night at the club because one of the other bottle girls had gotten sick. That meant working on my feet for longer than usual, and I was definitely tired from the extra hours.

“Listen kiddo, i work the night shift down at the club and i’ve only been asleep for a couple hours, so excuse me if i’m a little grumpy at the fact some kid was banging on my door while i'm trying to rest” i huff out with impatience. “Now will you kindly get off my doorstep? I don’t want your cookies, or t-shirts or whatever the hell it is you’re selling”. 

I turned to close the door when the woman I hadn't noticed standing next to the teenager spoke. 

“Seriously, Y/N? Working at the local club? I didn’t think you had the guts for stripping” she says while snickering. 

I bristle at the insult. “Now just wait a minute here. I’m not a stripper, I'm a bottle girl! And who are you to throw around judgment, showing up on my front door when I don't even know…” I trail off as i get a good look at her face and recognize just who’s come to bother me. No way…

“Well holy shit!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I lean against the door frame and look her up and down slowly.  “Now that’s a face I haven't seen in a few centuries. Agatha fucking Harkness! Can’t say I've missed your presence. What brings you to my doorstep?” 

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Mind if we come in?” she questions as she gestures inside.

I throw my head back in laughter before turning around to go inside, leaving the door ajar. 

“Sure!” I yell over my shoulder. “Come on in. I’m gonna make some tea.” 

Both Agatha and the boy trail after me into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy following my movements as he takes in my kitchen. It’s full of dried herbs and flowers hanging from faded yellow walls. I fling open my aged brown cabinets and rifle around for a mason jar of tea leaves. 

As I prepare my water to boil and place the tea leaves in a sachet I ask “So, what brings you by Agatha? Looking for me to join you on one of your latest murder sprees in the search for some powerful totem?” 

I turn from the counter to face them, seeing that Agatha has already made herself comfortable at my small dining table. The boy was standing awkwardly behind her. 

I look the boy up and down and raise my eyebrows at Agatha. “What’s with the boy?” i question, “Finally taken on an apprentice to teach your dark and evil ways to? He seems quite young to be following in your trail of corrupted darkness.” 

The boy goes to respond, but Agatha cuts him off. “No, no, no, this is Teen and he’s…” She trails off a bit and I go to finish pouring my tea. Teen? That’s a strange name. Whatever. He got himself involved with Harkness, not my problem to deal with. 

“ A pet. Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “He’s my pet. Now listen Y/N i have a proposition for you.” 

I roll my eyes at her. “Agatha, I really don’t know what’s got you at my house stirring shit up, but I can assure you I'm not interested. If your undoubtedly dangerous proposal was all you came for, you best be going now.” 

I move to usher her out the door before ‘Teen’ shouts out. “We’re going on the Witches Road and we want you to join us!” 

He looks down a bit sheepishly as I give a bug eyed stare. 

“Please?” he hesitantly asks. “We need a divination witch and the road will give you what you want most if you join us.” He’s gotta be kidding. The Road is a death wish. 

I swiftly turn to Agatha, who shakes her head in exasperation at Teen. 

“Really, Agatha?!” I exclaim, throwing my hand up in the air and moving wildly around the room. “The Road is a death wish. No one makes it through. What have you deluded this poor boy into thinking?” 

“She hasn’t deluded me!”, Teen replies. “It was my idea actually.” 

I bury my head in my hands. No way am I joining Agatha Harknesse’s coven to journey down the Witches Road. I am not that crazy, despite what some may think and say.

“Oh hell no. Thank you but no thank you for the offer. I plan on staying alive for the foreseeable future. Harkness, take the boy and leave,” I whip around to face her, “ and please don’t come back. I don’t need whatever's got you spooked enough to go on the witches road coming after me”. 

“Oh come on!” she exasperatedly yells. “We both know you’ve been searching for something you’re never gonna find Y/N.” How the hell does she know about that? I’ve never told her of my visions of her. But then again, I asked around for decades. Maybe she caught wind of it through the grapevine of the witch community. 

“Travel the Witches Road with me” she offers. “The Road will give you what you want most when we reach the end”. 

“If we reach the end” I interject. “If.”

She’s right though. If i join them, and can successfully make it to the end of the road it will tell me how to find her. All those visions of her for all those years… Her beautiful brown eyes, her soft curly hair. What I wouldn't give to see her smile for real, and not just in a vision. 

I sigh heavily as I bring my eyes to Agatha’s. I’m seriously considering it, and for a moment I almost say yes… but I know Agatha’s reputation. Even though at one point I would have liked us to be friends, I know I can't trust her. Going on the Road with her would be certain death, and then i’d never find her.

“Agatha…” I start. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now if that's all, get out of my house. I’m tired.” 

“Ok, ok” she says, lifting her hands in mock surrender as she turns to leave. 

Unexpectedly, Teen makes his way towards me. “Here” he says as he places a card in my hand. “This is Agatha’s address. Be here tonight at 6:30 if you change your mind, and I hope you will” he says as smiles. 

“Teen!” Agatha barks from the doorway. “Come on! We don’t have all day” 

Teen runs after her, and as suddenly as they had woken me, they left, and I was there to sit with my own thoughts. 

At least my tea has cooled off enough to drink. 

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

@end0r4

[attractedtopeoples]

HI POOKIR hope you are okay so I was thinking

Johnnie x f reader like UH overstim with edge on readers side ? And like reader maybe has a very pink style (coquette/hello kitty typa) and if you could do smth like after aftercare he does a stream and like reader kinda left some lipstick on his neck or hickeys IDK of you don’t wanna that’s okay! Have a good day

A/N: HIII LOVE, thank you I am doing better, and happy new year! I hope this is okay, especially sorry if i didn't mention the fashion as much- i'm not very good at incorporating those smaller details. despite that i absolutely loved this prompt, and i had sat there fangirling over the thought of this scenario for a hot minute but here we go, and as always constructive criticism is welcome.

Feeling Better? // Johnnie Guilbert

Tags/Warnings: mdni, minors do not interact, don't like don't read, smutty, explicit, f!reader, there is one creepy ass guy at the start, overstimulation, aftercare & slight fluff, marking kink from reader if you squint, tease reader/snarky reader, yh i think that's all, tell me if you think there should be more, NOT BETA-READ.

1.2k Words

The both of you had been at the grocery store, getting a few things for the apartment and stuff you needed for future videos. However, at one point Johnnie had left to grab some cookies he'd seen earlier, and some random guy had come up behind you, attempting to corner you into the shelf, one hand on your pressed on your lower back under the crop top you'd worn.

The sudden contact was obviously not appreciated, and you pushed him back as you stepped away quickly, avoiding his hand when he reached out again.

"Sorry Sweetheart, just admiring the view," the random guy said, as if it provided any valid explanation. You could feel his eyes tracing over you, and felt rather disgusted as his eyes stayed trained on your mini-skirt for a few seconds longer than you were comfortable with.

"Who's this?" a voice spoke behind you, and you had never been more thankful than when you turned around to find Johnnie standing there glaring at the creep. The guy rolled his eyes at Johnnie, but took a step back regardless, glancing at you once more before walking away, leaving a confused Johnnie with chocolate chip cookies in hand.

"Just a nobody, it's okay" you'd assured him, although it clearly didn't do a great job, his eyes still taking in every detail, trying to find any evidence of pain or discomfort.

"Are you sure?" he'd asked, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders as he looks back down the aisle with a slight frown.

"Been better, I just wanna go home." you'd admitted with a sigh as you leaned into his embrace.

That lead to where you are now, one hand clutching the pillow behind you and the other tangled in Johnnie's hair as his tongue pushes you towards another climax, your third tonight to be specific, and Johnnie did not seem like he wanted to stop. His hands had taken their place on your inner thighs, keeping your legs from closing around his legs as he overstimulates you.

Your back arched off the bed as you were pushed over the edge once more, and your hand was tugging Johnnie's hair, a futile attempt at pushing him away. However, to your surprise, he pulled away from you with a pleased grin on his face. Sadly, It didn't last very long, as one of his hands moved up your thigh as he began rubbing slow circles around your clit, applying a painful yet pleasurable pressure as you threw your head back once more.

His other hand trailed upwards- towards your hips, and he sat back on his knees, admiring you splayed out in front of him as he continued to toy with your overstimulated body, gently sliding two fingers inside you as you let out a broken moan, throat already sore from the previous rounds.

"Feeling better now darling?" He asks teasingly, curling his fingers inside you as your nails dig into the back of his neck, eyes squeezed shut as you try not to lose your mind from the feelings overwhelming you as his fingers thrust into you at a steady pace.

There were hickeys covering the both of you, but especially yourself, and you couldn't say you were all that upset. There was a trail of them from your jawline, down your collarbone, and scattered down the rest of your body. On your thighs the hickeys and love-bites were joined by slight bruises on your inner thighs form Johnnie's fingers.

On him it was mainly his neck and jawline, alongside a few scattered over his chest before he laid you down, opting to mark you up instead. Although as he leans down, placing his other arm by the side of your head, you had a nice few of them.

Looking into his eyes your shaky arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he reciprocated eagerly. The hands around his neck tightened as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, and as he began to speed up you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

You pulled him in for another kiss as you felt yourself fall over the edge again, crashing your lips together in a desperate attempt of muffling the noises you knew would have woken one of your roommates. As the aftershocks wore off Johnnie slowly pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the bedsheets as he brings you closer, hugging you softly as he traces shapes into your skin.

After a while of you two lying there wrapped up in each other, he sighed and pulled back from you and off the bed to grab something from the bathroom. A few moments later he walked back into your room, a washcloth in his hand and you allowed yourself to relax back into the bed as he sat down next to you.

He rubbed soothing circles into your thighs as he cleaned you up, taking care to be extra gentle with you as he carefully wiped down your thighs with the warm towel. You watched him with a soft smile as your eyes drooped slightly. Eventually you felt your eyes close, and in your drowsy state you could feel Johnnie lie down next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist as you fall asleep together.

~

Blinking your eyes open you could hear the clicking of a keyboard somewhere in the room, and when you pat around for Johnnie you can only feel an empty space next to you in the bed. Rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the lighting you can finally see Johnnie at his desk on the other side of the room, both his camera and mic set up in front of him as he streams, most likely playing some form of game.

With a small sigh you sit up and hold back a groan at the pain in your lower back from last night. The movement caught Johnnie's attention, and you could see him mouth sorry out of the camera frame, although with the way he tilted his neck you could also see the collection of hickeys you'd left scattered on him- and by the way his camera was facing it was rather clear he was trying not to show them.

That fact didn't matter now however, as he'd just completely displayed each and every one to the viewers of his stream, and as you watched the realization flood his features you had to hold back a laugh. He slowly sat back into frame, and you watched his eyes flick over the comment section, and after a few seconds he just let out a resigned sigh.

With a raised eyebrow you kept watching as he pressed a few buttons, and then he started to speak again.

"Alright guys, I think that's a pretty good ending note, I'll see you next time," and with a final click of a button he slumped back into the chair and turned to face you tiredly. Meanwhile you were still trying not to laugh at him, one hand over your mouth as a pointless attempt at hiding your laughter.

"Shut up," he grumbled, but it didn't help much as you flopped back down onto the bed and continued to laugh, smiling when he came over and joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

[quitesins]

Boxer!Bakugou x Sports Journalist!Reader

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, Drabble, Female!reader, Aged up!character, Boxer!Bkg, Sports journalist!Reader, ooc bakugou? Maybe? Dialogue heavy, I’ve had this in my drafts since feb, idk anything about boxing btw

“They say you’re a prodigy, Mr. Bakugou but do you think you can keep up with those who’ve been fighting for years?”

Bakugou Katsuki, The Dynamight.

It’s testy to ask a question like that. You’ve watched his other interviews- he’s volatile, quick to anger. So you’re surprised when he looks you over, and smirks.

“You doubtin’ me?” There’s amusement in his voice. He thinks you’re nervous, he’s already disregarded you as a threat.

“No.” You sit up a little straighter. “But you have been uncharacteristically quiet about your training recently. One can only assume why.”

Bakugou lets out a bark of laughter, it’s not one you haven’t heard before but it’s still rare, feeling almost exclusive to the journalists he really doesn’t respect.

“And you’re suspecting it’s because I have nothing to show? Hah!”

You have to force your eyebrows back up, your lips to still curve.

“If not, what else? Aren’t you a little too confident” You pause. “Izuku Midoriya is also force to beat, but even he isn’t so cocksure.”

The crowd around you hushes. No one dares mentions that name. Bakugou grits his teeth, while you smile with yours prettily. It’s a low blow, bringing up his rival, but you’re not here to play nice either.

Bakugou takes a second, then replies. “That nerd would tremble over a baby.” His arm comes out to rest on the seat beside him, and he leans back casually. “His progress has nothing to do with me. I know my skill. I don’t need to be worried.”

It ticks you off how quick he is at regaining the upper hand, like confidence runs through his veins.

Though he looks unperturbed, his team ushers another journalist to the mic, and you have to step back at last. But even as you sink back into the crowd, head lowered, scribbling away at your notes, a pair of red eyes follow you, with intensity you’d be glad not to notice.

You’re waiting in the cold, under a darkening sky, just outside the hall, when a warmth emerges on your left side. It’s him. The Dynamight. And you jump back startled.

He stands there, clearly entertained by the fact you hadn’t noticed him and then by little gasp when you do.

“Mr Bakugou.” You’re curt, not particularly interested in getting into an argument, expecting that was what he was here for.

“Bakugou’s fine.” His shoulder nudges yours, for a second you think it’s a threat, but the foreign softness of his voice makes you realise otherwise. He’s trying to be… friendly? For what reason, it’s beyond you.

“Bakugou.” You don’t open up, but you don’t shy away either. He seems to take that as a win. “Shouldn’t you be inside, I’m sure everyone is clamouring for your attention.”

He snorts, it’s similar to his laugh during the interviews, but this time you can tell it isn’t taunting. You feel a bit guilty for assuming it had come with malice earlier.

“You’re not one bit scared of me are ya?”

“Should I be?”

Maybe he genuinely enjoys the back and fourth, because he really laughs at that. “Nah, you’d probably write a hit piece on me.”

“I- What?” When his words sink in you fluster at his claim. “No I wouldn’t? What?!”

“I read that article you did on Dabi.” Bakugou raises- without accusation. “The fucker deserved it.”

“It wasn’t like that!” It wasnt. It’s not your fault the famous boxer Dabi— Touya Todoroki had turned out to be former world champion, Endeavour’s son. You weren’t trying to expose any nepotism. It just happened to be. “It’s my job!!”

For a moment, Bakugou thinks you look like a scolded child, trying to defend yourself from the heinous allegation of stealing from the cookie jar.

“Relax. I know.” Bakugou nudges your shoulder again. “It’s why I want you to come interview my gym.”

“What?”

“My gym, Jeanist, Red, the whole lot.” He lists. “I don’t trust any other extra to do it. Either suck ups or fuckin’ liars.”

“And you think I’d be the inbetween?” You eye him warily, you don’t trust his trust.

“Yeah.” He ignores your skepticism. “Plus, it’d be nice to have a pretty girl around for a change.”

Now that’s what gets you speechless. Despite the increasing attempts of gossip mags trying to speculate about the annoyingly handsome Dynamight’s love life, he’d never actually been caught in a dating scandal. Honestly it seemed like the man was far too focussed on himself to have interest in anyone at all.

“That shut you up, huh?”

You’re actually glad he teases, because it reminds you not to fall for whatever charm he’d conjured up. You give him a frown but somewhere in your chest, it feels oddly warm.

“Think about it.” He steps back. “I’ll tell you now, best fuckin’ article you’ll ever write.” He nods over to a car you hadn’t noticed pull up.

It’s your cab, and it’s mildly embarrassing to realise how concentrated you’d been on him. He goes to take his leave and you turn to enter the car. Neither of you say goodbye, you just look away with faint smiles on your faces.

I had the beginning of dis just floating about in ma drafts since feb, finally added to it so why not post, also yes this is a call to watch Ippo. Miyata my beloved…

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 2

Part two of the Addams Family Steddie AU from this post! Anyway, here are five times Eddie gave Steve a gift plus one particularly special gift Steve gave him in return

I'll be honest, this one really got away from me LMAO

Also, @xjessicafaithx asked to be tagged if there was a part two so here ya go! I have a few more ideas for this AU so there might be more parts later too lol

One~

Steve is idly flipping through the mail he just pulled out of the mailbox, delaying his return to the house where Dustin is currently screaming about dice rolls over a Discord call, when he feels someone staring at him. His shoulders tense, and his grip on a junk letter creases the envelope as he looks up.

Crouching on the walkway leading up to a pitch-black house, elbows resting on his knees and a covered plate in his hands, is Eddie Munson. He's staring straight at Steve, eyes practically boring through him. When he realizes Steve has noticed him, Eddie perks up and balances the plate in one hand so he can wave with the other.

Steve hesitates before flashing an unsure smile and waving back. He thinks of the recently-washed plate that held the arsenic and chocolate chip cookies currently in his kitchen, waiting to be returned. Maybe he can return it now?

While he's thinking, Eddie has apparently taken the wave as permission to pop to his feet and walk over. And, well, he isn't wrong. It's not like Steve immediately started walking away after waving; he just kept standing there, locked in place by neighborly social conventions and Eddie's intense gaze.

"Good morning, Stevie," Eddie says, flashing that too-sharp grin at Steve as he leans on the mailbox. "You're looking particularly ravishing today."

"Ravishing?"

Eddie slowly looks him up and down, his eyes dragging along Steve's figure before finally letting their gazes meet once more. "Good enough to eat, really," Eddie replies, leaning in a little closer and making Steve's heart race with something that could be fear but is more likely embarrassment. Not that he wants to admit that. So, fear it is.

Steve laughs awkwardly and leans back, looking away and blaming the heat in his cheeks on the sun. "Uh, thanks. You, uh, look nice too," he says, glancing back at Eddie to take in the ripped jeans and short-sleeved black button-down (is that silk? It looks like silk) and chunky rings shaped like bats and skulls and coffins and wow, Eddie's fingers are kind of long.

Thankfully, Steve is saved from his mind wandering too far by Eddie shoving the covered plate into his hands. It's a familiar motion, and Steve almost laughs at it. "Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, letting his fingers brush across the back of Steve's hands before pulling away. "Anyway, Wayne baked more last night before communing with some spirits. He made too many eye of newt brownies, and I thought you'd enjoy them."

Steve blinks, looking down at the plate in his hands. "Eye of newt?" he asks, curiously lifting the tin foil to see perfectly normal-looking brownies inside.

"Yeah, they're to die for," Eddie says, his grin widening as he pushes off the mailbox and leaves Steve with a plate of brownies and a confusing feeling in his chest.

Two~

"She likes meatballs."

Steve blinks, staring at the concerningly large Venus Fly Trap in El's hands. Behind her, Eddie is smirking at him, holding his sister's shoulders and giving Steve an expectant look as El holds the flower pot out to him. The pot itself is also concerningly large for how she's holding it, and Steve can't stop himself from quickly taking the pot so she doesn't strain her back any more than she already has.

He grunts at the sudden weight when she lets go but doesn't drop the pot. Instead, he carefully and gently places it on the ground, silently letting out a breath of relief as the plant sways slightly in the pot, brushing against his hip.

The two had caught Steve when he was getting out of his car, his entire body already feeling heavy from work. His plan had been to go inside, do his best to not fall asleep standing in the shower, make Dustin dinner, and then pass out in bed until his alarm woke him again in the morning.

But instead, El had run over to him the moment he got out of his car, cheeks slightly flushed with excitement as she offered him the plant. Eddie had leisurely followed her over, amusement clear on his face as he watched Steve's brain struggle to catch up.

"Doesn't she eat flies?" Steve asks, looking down at the plant. For some reason, he feels like it's staring back at him.

El shakes her head. "Flies are not big enough. You should feed her one pound of meatballs on Wednesday and Sunday."

Cool. Great. Perfectly normal. It's not like Steve has had a Venus Fly Trap before, so he can't contest that. "Why are you giving her to me?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from the plant to look at El.

"Aunt Morticia took cuttings of her Cleopatra and sent us a few," El says, her tone implying that should be more than enough explanation.

Steve's expression, however, surely says differently. Thankfully, Eddie picks up on it and leans forward over El. "She'll make a great guard plant for you and Dustin, Stevie. Plus, she's almost as good a listener as I am," he explains, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, pointedly ignoring the second part of that explanation. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Nix," El tells him.

"Nix?"

"Yeah. Stevie," Eddie says, pointing at him before pointing to the plant and saying, "Nix. Because you said you like Fleetwood Mac."

Yeah, Steve did say that, but it was in passing, and he didn't think Eddie had actually heard him say it or paid any attention. It was said to Dustin while they were walking to the car, and Eddie had just happened to be sitting on his porch at the time.

But he did pay attention. And now he and El have given Steve and Dustin a plant whose name is a reference to Fleetwood Mac. Steve can't help a smile, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than just ten minutes ago. "Thanks, I know Dustin will love her, too," he says, feeling blinded by the tiny smile from El and the full-on grin from Eddie.

Three~

Nix likes to get sun, but she doesn't like being in the sun for too long. She also doesn't like staying still in the sun; she prefers to be moved around constantly, never staying in one spot for more than a minute if she's particularly patient. She also prefers to go on a sun walk right after eating her pound of meatballs.

These are things Steve learns over the course of three weeks through trial and error that often resulted in Nix snapping shut around his arm whenever he didn't immediately do as she liked. Steve had never heard of a plant having a personality before (especially not such a temperamental one), but he's come to find it endearing. Plus, carrying Nix around the yard does make for an effective workout.

So, on a very hot Sunday at the very end of June, Steve is carrying Nix around his backyard. Her pot is in his arms, sweat is dripping down his back, and Nix is helpfully trying to shade his head from the sun using her...head? Steve actually isn't sure what to call the top part of her. Is it a mouth?

"It's called a lobe."

Steve jumps, his grip on Nix's pot tightening as he whips his head around and sees Eddie crouching on the fence dividing their yards. He isn't even sure how Eddie manages it, considering how narrow the fence is, but he's also stopped trying to figure it out.

"What is?" he asks.

Eddie hops down, walking over to Steve and carefully taking Nix out of his hands. He continues walking around the backyard, and Steve doesn't even question following him. "This," Eddie says, pointing to the top of Nix's head. "This is called a lobe."

"How'd you..."

"You had a curious expression and were looking at Nix."

"You know my curious expression?"

Eddie looks over at Steve, a smile pulling at his lips and his eyes softening some, and Steve suddenly feels like he's drowning in the ocean and floating among the clouds. "I know all your expressions, Stevie," Eddie tells him.

Steve feels seen and terrified and...and utterly under whatever spell Eddie has spent the past few months carefully casting. He doesn't say anything about it, though. Instead, he rather dumbly says, "Oh."

The smile widens, and Steve finds himself wondering not for the first time what it would feel like to run his tongue over Eddie's too-sharp canines. "By the way, I got something for you, Stevie."

Steve blinks, watching as Eddie easily cradles Nix's pot in one arm and reaches into his back pocket. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's going to pull out his dagger again. Last time, he'd placed it in Steve's hand and very seriously told him, "If you ever see me on the verge of death, take this dagger and stab it through my heart. I'd rather die by your hand than whatever else got to me first." He'd then showed Steve where he kept it, his smile bright despite his words leaving Steve speechless.

Eddie does not, in fact, pull out a dagger. He pulls out a tiny, leatherbound journal. The journal is black like everything else the Munson family owns, and a heart is carefully painted onto the cover with two skulls looking outwards and meeting at the jaws to create the heart's point.

Steve slowly takes the journal, the cover feeling soft under his thumb, and he looks up at Eddie. His confusion is made even stronger when he sees his bashful expression. Eddie uses his free hand to tug on a lock of his hair, habitually hiding his mouth behind it. "I, uh, write music, you know," he says, waiting for Steve to nod once before rushing out in one breath, "I wrote songs for you."

When the words actually register, Steve's eyes widen, and he cracks the journal open to a random page. Eddie's familiar scratchy handwriting crosses the paper. Steve can only just see a line about the arrows of fate and burning stars before Eddie's hand covers the page. "Maybe, uh, maybe read them later."

Steve easily agrees, and Eddie quickly changes the subject. After finishing Nix's walk around the garden, Eddie helps Steve return her to her room and returns himself to his own home. Steve watches Eddie through the window, waiting for him to go inside before opening the journal once more and finding the page Eddie had covered.

i'll throw myself before the arrows of your fate// take all your misfortune as the gift it is// piercing my ribs as you burn brighter than stars// unhindered by the despair i have stolen for myself

Four~

Eddie's hand is warm in Steve's as he leads him up the stairs of the Munson home. The halls are dimly lit by old lanterns whose flames make shadows dance across the walls, and Steve finds them more romantic than creepy. When they reach the attic, Eddie stops at the door. "Okay, some of them don't look like normal bats," he says, turning to look at Steve.

"Are you giving me one of the normal ones?"

Eddie nods once. "Yeah, the demobats are too unpredictable, and the hivemind doesn't help. You wanted one bat, not a swarm."

Steve hums softly, leaning closer and placing his free hand on Eddie's chest, right over his heart. "I would accept a swarm if you gave it to me, babe," he says, smiling reassuringly at Eddie.

His words are rewarded with an arm around his waist, holding him closer like Eddie wants to pull Steve under his skin and hold him in the spaces between his bones. "But I wouldn't get nearly as much attention then, Stevie," he replies, punctuating each word with tiny pecks that begin at his forehead, follow the bridge of his nose, and end on his lips in a lingering kiss.

Steve almost loses himself in it, but he'd rather not get carried away where Wayne or El could catch them. So he begrudgingly pulls away, playfully reaching up and tugging one of Eddie's locks when he pouts. "You know you're dearer to me than all the bats in the world, Eddie. Now, which bat is mine?"

Eddie's pout immediately becomes a grin, and he opens the attic door. It's dark as night in the room, the only lights coming from red eyes staring at them from the ceiling. Eddie keeps his arm around Steve's waist, keeping him close as he shortly whistles three times. A screech sounds from the ceiling, followed by the flapping of wings and a bat flying out to land on Eddie's outstretched arm.

With his foot, Eddie shuts the door as he holds the bat in front of Steve so he can get a better look. The bat is small, no more than three inches, and its nose looks vaguely like an upside-down heart. It tilts its head, studying Steve in return as it shifts on Eddie's hand. "Isn't she cute?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles and holds his hand out to the bat, a few seconds passing before she moves from Eddie to him. "Yeah, she's really cute," he says as she surveys her new spot. She shifts a few times before pushing off Steve's hand and flying to his shoulder. She settles close to his neck, a warm softness against his skin partially hidden by his hair. And then she chirps, sounding like the squeaking of sneakers on a gym floor.

"She's an African heart-nosed bat," Eddie explains, starting to pull Steve down the stairs again. "They're very territorial, and they mark their territory by singing."

"Is that what she's doing?" Steve asks, raising his free hand to gently brush a finger against her head. She humors the touch for a few seconds before gently nipping his finger, not breaking the skin but clearly getting across that he shouldn't touch her anymore.

"Yep," Eddie says, grinning at Steve. "So, what are you gonna name her?"

Five ~

Hulyet buries herself in Steve's hair as he stares at the floor-length black dress Eddie holds up. She apparently picks up on Steve's confusion and slight concern, decides something is invading their territory, and begins singing aggressively in Eddie's direction.

The sudden squeaks and chirps break Steve out of his confusion, and he can't help a laugh. He reaches up, gently stroking her back to reassure her that everything is fine, and asks Eddie, "What's with the dress?"

"All Hallow's Eve is approaching," Eddie says, "I thought we could go as Dracula and his bride."

"Am I the bride?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the dress for a moment before looking back at Steve. "I haven't figured that out yet," he admits. "If you don't want to be the bride, I don't mind it."

Steve blinks, suddenly realizing this is Eddie trying to plan a couple's costume for Halloween. A familiar warmth floods through him, and he can't help smiling. He studies the dress, coming to the conclusion that he doesn't mind wearing it. For Eddie, of course.

Well, actually, he also thinks it looks hot.

"Okay. Let me try it on," he says, holding out his hands. Eddie lights up, handing over the dress and looking at Steve expectantly.

Well, there goes changing in the bathroom. Steve sighs, feels relieved he wore briefs, and strips down. Hulyet grips tighter to his hair as he moves, chirping once in indignation before settling once more as Steve wiggles his way into the dress.

It's tight, but not overly so. The material hugs curves Steve didn't even know he had, and the neckline plunges between his pecs and stretches into off-shoulder sleeves. The very bottom of the dress flares outward in a spiderweb pattern formed by lace. He takes a few experimental steps, relieved to find his movement isn't too restricted by the dress and fascinated to discover the spiderweb at the bottom stays perfectly spread out.

"How's it look?" Steve asks, turning to Eddie only to find that he'd moved right behind him at some point. He startles, taking a step back and getting his foot caught on the back of the dress. Before he can hit the floor, though, Eddie catches him, arms around his waist and holding him in a dip.

Steve's heart is pounding against his ribs, his breath short as he tightly grips Eddie's jacket collar and tries to ignore Hulyet painfully yanking on his hair. Eddie grins at him and says, "You look enchanting, Stevie. I would have fallen on my knees to worship you if you didn't beat me to the falling part."

Steve snorts and relaxes his grip, sliding his arms around Eddie's neck instead. "How long are you planning to hold me like this?" he asks.

"I could hold you as the world burns to ash around us. Even after we die and have decomposed, our skeletons will still be wrapped around each other, forever locked together."

From anyone else, Steve thinks he would worry about being murdered. But from Eddie, Steve just thinks it's one of the most romantic things he's ever heard, right alongside everything else Eddie has ever said to him. "That sounds perfect," he says, happily smiling into the kiss Eddie gives him.

Plus One~

"Fucking hell, Steve, stop bothering me about this!"

Steve frowns at Dustin, slouching on the couch as he anxiously turns a velvet box over in his hands. Dustin is laid out on the floor with a bowl of cheese puffs, his head resting on Dart's back as the demodog naps. "You're such a supportive brother," Steve says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dustin scoffs and throws a cheese puff at Steve's head. "I was plenty supportive the first fifteen times! Just fucking give him the ring already," Dustin says, returning the stuck-out tongue that Steve sends him before looking down at his phone and typing something. "Dude, it's Eddie. You could give him a used soda can and he'd give it a fucking pedestal in his room."

Okay, yeah, Dustin has a point. That doesn't make Steve any less nervous, though. He forces himself to take a deep breath, pushing down his anxiety long enough to say, "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Literally, when have I ever been wrong, Steve?"

"Shut up."

Dustin flashes a grin just as Eddie's familiar rhythmic knock sounds against the door right before he opens the door. "By the way, I told Eddie to come over so you'd stop bothering me," Dustin tells him, his grin widening as Eddie saunters into the room.

"All right, gremlin," Eddie says, nudging Dustin with his foot, "get out."

As Dustin practically bolts from the room, Dart right on his heels, Steve decides he's going to make zucchini spaghetti for dinner so Dustin is forced to suffer through vegetables.

"So, whatcha got there, Stevie?" Eddie asks, perching on the couch next to Steve and looking pointedly at the box in his hands.

Well, there's no escaping it now.

Steve takes one more deep breath and opens the box. He pulls out the ring inside and presents it to Eddie. It's smaller than the rings he normally wears, but the sterling silver band is engraved with bat wings and an anatomical heart is carved into the garnet on top. A small, almost imperceptible clasp can be found just under the garnet. "I found it at an antique store with El and Max," Steve explains. He hesitates before carefully pushing the clasp to reveal a compartment just beneath the garnet. "It's one of those poison rings."

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent as he takes the ring, carefully shutting the compartment so he can turn it over in his hands. Once he's fully inspected the band and garnet, he pushes on the clasp and studies the size of the compartment. Finally, he slips the ring onto his left ring finger, his sharp canines coming into full view as he grins. "Yes, of course."

"Uh, yes what?"

"You're proposing, and I'm saying yes," Eddie explains, taking Steve's hand and bringing it to his lips. He kisses Steve's palm before lightly dragging his teeth over it, and Steve thinks he shows incredible character growth by not jerking his hand away.

His brain catches up a few seconds later. "Wait, proposing? This wasn't...I just...we've only been dating for three months?"

Eddie hums softly in agreement, sliding Steve's hand to his cheek and leaning into the touch. "I know," he says, "We've shown incredible restraint so far. Most Munsons get married within weeks of meeting their loves."

Honestly, that doesn't surprise Steve at all. Who could resist the Munson charm? Who could say no to the all-consuming devotion that shows no sign of ever fading? Steve's mouth suddenly feels dry. "Right," he mumbles, gently brushing his thumb over Eddie's cheek, "That, um, that's just a little fast, I think."

Eddie's smile doesn't fade one bit. He just nods, his eyes glowing with understanding and love and Steve's weakening resolve practically crumbles when Eddie says, "That's okay, Stevie. As long as I can see you and be near you, I don't care about anything else. You could put a knife through my heart, and I'd thank you for the chance to get a closer look at your eyes."

Steve...Steve is fucking weak. He abandons any idea of maintaining a distance between them, climbing into Eddie's lap and kissing the cheek he isn't holding. "It's not an engagement ring, but...but consider it an engaged-to-be-engaged ring," he says, the words feeling ridiculous as he speaks them.

But that doesn't matter because Eddie practically lights up. "Is that a promise? That we're engaged to be engaged?" he asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, his voice soft, "Just wait at least three more months before you propose, okay?"

Eddie's grin gets even wider, and he presses a searing kiss to Steve's lips, leaving him breathless and light-headed and absolutely sure Eddie is already planning his proposal.

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: the announcement

authors: inspired by several asks and convos with ya'll about these dream children of roman and solana. 😭

warnings: none

words: 2.3k

*photos found on twitter*

tags: @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @lov3rla03 @annfg8 @jayjayem1999

@that-one-anxious-mango @fearlesschimera @wwecrazed2010

“Our house used to be quiet, ya know.”

Solana rolls her eyes as she sets the timer on the oven for the homemade chocolate chip cookies she’s had a craving for all morning. Just one of the three trays she’ll have baked when all is said and done.

Her family has a big appetite. Especially the boys.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she pokes a little fun, “that was before the children, my love.”

“And the dogs,” he scoffs, mind briefly wandering to Dulce. Two years later, he still finds himself waiting for her to walk her lazy self into his office and plop down in her bed for a nap or to roll onto her back for a stomach rub. Her passing is still something that gets to him from time to time.

Solana's giggles pull him from his brief recollection as she removes said apron and walks over to him. Hands on her chest, she looks up, asking, “you ready?”

Roman sighs. Not necessarily. He knows this is about to be a shitshow, but it's also something they can’t put off any longer. “Let’s get this shit over with.” He takes her hand in his, walking them towards the living room, stopping near the staircase. “Kids! Family meeting!” As expected, a chorus of protests sound from up the stairs. Another heavy sigh, followed by a much firmer, “now!” 

An almost immediate wind of silence as husband and wife journey into the living room, standing near the 80inch flat screen TV. Roman isn’t surprised to find that Aroha is the first to arrive, skipping into the living room wearing that ballerina costume she seems borderline obsessed with. Tutu and all. Also, not surprising, is the fact that Coco has tagged along with her, settling into the bed in the living room. 

“Look, mommy! I’m a princess!” Aroha spins around, making Roman crack a smile. While her infatuation with wanting to wear costumes all the time can be a challenge, especially when it’s time for school and she has to wear her uniform, her softness reminds him a lot of Leya and Solana. She’s taken after their personalities.

“You’re a beautiful princess, mija.” Solana compliments, accepting the hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. They share a short conversation in Spanish before she’s over by him, reaching to be picked up. He easily obliges, smile widening when she kisses his cheek and lays her head on his shoulder.

Lina and Leya are next to arrive. Lina is clearly gym bound, given her matching workout set that Roman is about to comment on when she asks, “daddy, can I use the big gym tonight? I need to lift.”

The big gym would be the separate mother-in-law suite that Roman had turned into a gym when Lina and Tama started expressing increasing interest in fitness and working out. So much so that Roman found his initial gym that was built in the main building no longer serving its purpose.

Thus, the renovation. And again, having seen what Lina wears to train from time to time, he’d rather her only see their property and nothing beyond it. 

“Sure.” It’s an easy, agreeable thing.

Lina fist pumps the air. Roman then notices that Leya has come with her sketchbook tucked under her arm. He watches how she sits on the sofa, legs crossed before she pulls it out to continue whatever her latest creation is.

So much like Solana. 

Tamasā, Tama, is the next to come down the steps, a huge jump allowing him to bypass the last three. He directs his attention to Roman, “dad, can Lina and I use—”

“Already asked him,” she cuts him off, texting away on her phone that her eyes are glued to. Roman scoffs a bit. She better not be talking to that grown man looking lil boy. “You’re late. As always.”

Tama sucks his teeth, muttering, “man, whatever.” He walks over to Solana, giving her a hug that he has to lean over for. At freshly turned 15, he’s almost the same height as his dad. “Hey, mama.”

“Hi, baby.” She kisses his cheek as their oldest son falls down on the other sofa, also pulling out his phone.

“Boys!” Solana calls, giving Roman that ‘of course, they’re the last to come’ look. It’s not surprising. Roman is certain them boys have ADHD or something. They’re always on the move. “Come on!”

“Mom!” Koa calls down with an almost whine. “I’m about to beat the wizard!”

Roman walks over, still holding his baby girl and easily calls up the steps, “Imma beat you, that wizard, and your brother if ya’ll don’t get down here now.”

The Tribal Chief already knows his second set of twins are gaming together, from their separate rooms, using that online play feature shit. There’s grumbled protests and stomping as the 10 year olds finally make their appearance, pouting and scowling. 

“Fix your faces,” Roman warns as they begrudgingly walk into the living room and opt to sit on the floor. He’s about to say something when they pull out those handheld gaming systems, but Solana beats him to it.

She speaks in Spanish, the boys responding back in Spanish before putting the devices on the floor next to them. 

With everyone settled, Roman carries Aroha over to the sofa so she can sit next to Leya. Leya offers a warm smile to her little sister, sharing the art with her. Even with the age difference, they’re close. Roman gets it. The two of them are so much like Solana, having taken so much after her. In all of the good ways.

“Wait.” Tama suddenly sits up, excitement painting his face. “Is this about my car?” He smiles, and Roman almost feels like he’s looking at himself many years ago. Like the girls have taken after Solana, Tama has definitely taken after him in looks. The spitting image of himself when he was a teenager. “Am I getting—”

“I’m not getting you an Aston Martin,” Roman shuts that down real fast, unsurprised when his son scowls. Again, his twin.

“But Lina and Leya—”

“Didn’t crash a car before they even got their damn license,” he shoots back, easily. Tama can be….distracted at times, hence him crashing Roman’s Bugatti when learning how to drive. One of Roman’s favorite cars. 

Aroha then decides to ask in the sweetest voice. “Daddy, can I get a pony?”

“No, baby, you cannot get a pony.” Animals. His youngest is also on this animal fixation as of recent. She almost threw a fit just the other day when he refused to stop for the ‘little baby’ she saw on the side of the road when he was bringing her to gymnastics practice.

Possum. 

The little baby was a fucking possum.

Of course, his younger sons seem to see an opportunity to get their request in since Aroha’s was denied. With perfect synchronization, they start off with their application.  “Can we get a—”

But, Roman is already three steps ahead. “I’m not getting ya’ll no damn lizards.”

Koa and Kai have wanted reptiles for a while. And they’re gonna keep wanting them, at least until they’re grown and out of the house. Dogs, Roman can get with. Anything else is a hell no. Especially some damn lizards. 

Kai, the more crafty of the two, is the one to object. “But, dad, they’re bearded dragons!”

“Dragons?!” Aroha’s gaze shifts into horror as she buries herself into Leya’s side. “I don’t like dragons.”

“Baby, dragons aren’t real,” Solana comforts, offering a warm smile. 

“Would ya’ll stop scaring your sister?” Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. This is going exactly as he expected, except they haven’t even dropped the news onto them yet. “Now look, this meeting isn’t about any of ya’ll getting anything. You get things all the time anyway. That’s why the house looks the way it does.”

Roman has a low tolerance for most things. Granted, there’s always an exception for his kids, even on days like this where they are clearly on one. So while he has denied the requests thus far, it’s more often than not he has packages arriving daily. Either things the kids have suckered out of him, things Lina and Leya have ordered, Solana even. Not to mention Koa and Kai who somehow have a damn Amazon account of their own.

He’s still trying to figure that out, though something tells him Tama had something to do with it. 

But as a result of the constant arrivals and items being purchased, the house being filled with stuff, it’s always clean. Solana likes keeping a tidy home, and the kids are good with their chores. Usually. But still, Kai and Koa practically have a gaming and tech set-up in their rooms that could make even the Geek Squad jealous.

Tama has every pair of Jordan’s to ever exist. Lina too. Each having their own rooms just for their shoes.

Leya’s room is a damn art gallery with her often painting and designing her walls every couple weeks. 

And Aroha’s bedroom is more or less a playroom. The girl has dolls everywhere. 

The kids are all spoiled rotten, but they’re still respectful. And that’s all Roman cares about.

“Your dad and I—Well, we have something to share with you all.”

At that, the younger kids have returned back to their previous headspace of receiving. “Are we going to Disney?!”

Yes, they are going to Disney. Roman willing to sacrifice his mental wellbeing for a few days to make the kids happy. It’s been a couple years since they last went, and they’ve been wanting to go, so Solana and him have been working on that behind the scenes. But, it’s a surprise, so he’s not about to confirm as such. 

“No. We’re not going to Disney.”

Lina chuckles, still texting on her phone as she jokes. “What then? Are you guys pregnant again or something?” At that, she looks up, sharing a small laugh with Leya and Tama. However, that laughter is quickly cut short when neither Solana nor Roman offer any sort of disagreement. 

Or deny it.

Lina’s jaw drops. “Wait…..” She looks over at her mom. “Mami? Is it true?” She speaks in Spanish, Roman not needing to speak the language to understand what’s being asked. She snaps her head to Leya who’s looking over at Roman. 

“Dad?”

A deep breath followed by a shared look with Solana who gives him the non-verbal go ahead. Time to rip the bandaid off.

Roman doesn’t hesitate or stutter as he announces, “your mom and I are having another baby.”

And thus it begins. In less than seconds after it leaves his mouth, the group erupts with various expressions of shock and borderline panic.

“How does this keep happening?”

“Why does this keep happening?”

“Where is it gonna sleep?”

“Can I go live with Aunt Naomi and Uncle Jimmy?”

“Is that all you and mama do?”

“Alexa, how do I get adopted?”

Roman lets them get it all out before his loud voice silences the room. “Alright, that’s enough.” Temporary silence. That’s all.

Koa crosses his arms over his body, scowling. “Where do these babies keep coming from?”

“The baby fairy!” Aroha answers with the happiest expression, like she’s just shared this great big secret with everyone that will make everything all better and solve world hunger. “The baby fairy puts lots and lots of babies in mommy’s tummy, and then they come out her vagina.”

That last portion makes all of the boys turn up their nose in disgust. Kai being the one to shout, “that’s nasty!”

“You’re nasty!” 

“Naw, mom and dad are the nasty ones to keep making all these kids.” Tama sucks his teeth, adding on almost desperately. “Aren’t ya’ll kind of old to keep doing this?”

Aroha jumps off the sofa, pouting and defending. “Daddy’s old, but he’s not that old! He’s baby santa old.”

Roman looks over at his wife with all of the confusion only to her covering her mouth and looking away, clearly trying to hide her smile.

“I’m not old,” he defends. 

Lina rolls her eyes. “Dad, come on. You get more gray in your beard every day.”

“Yeah, well, if ya’ll kids would stop stressing me out—”

“So then why’d you make more?” Tama mutters it to himself, but it’s still loud enough for his father to overhear. One sharp look from Roman making him cough awkwardly as he focuses on his latest kicks.

Solana clears her throat, redirecting all the attention onto herself. “I know—I know this is a lot to take in, and it’ll be an adjustment for everyone, but it’ll be fine.”

“I really think we should talk again about me, Leya, and Tama getting our own pl—”

“That’s not happening.” Roman shuts that shit down so fast, once again reiterating his main point every time this is brought up. “I’m not getting ya’ll a penthouse. This is your house. You’ll stay here.”

“With all these kids?” Lina pouts and gestures to the younger kids who are somehow now arguing over the existence of dragons and princesses. “This is torture in some countries.”

Leya smiles, asking gently, “how far along are you, mama?” 

Solana’s smile is soft as she answers, hand resting on her stomach. “6 weeks.”

Tama gives a smile as well, rubbing his hands together. “Bet it’s another boy.”

At that, the twins roll their eyes, Leya poking fun, “no way. Another girl.”

“Wanna bet?”

As the teens start placing wagers on the sex of the baby and the younger kids continue their passionate debate, Solana hugs her husband, eyes closing when he kisses the top of her head. His hand on her belly, content and pleased.

However, the timer on the oven going off seems to be the thing that breaks all conversation, Tama asking, "mama, you baking?"

Solana smiles, leaning into Roman's chest. "Chocolate chip--"

She can barely finish her statement as all of the kids, Coco too, are suddenly rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen, now arguing about who gets dibs on the first set.

"Oldest first!"

"No way! Guys first!"

"You guys always get first!"

"Cause you two always eat them all!"

"Mommy! Daddy!"

Solana giggles into Roman who's only sighing again, index and middle finger pressed against his temple.

"Maybe we should hear them out on the penthouse idea."

"Roman!"

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 4

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Take It to the Limit” by The Eagles

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Major fluff alert. Some angst(ish). First date part 2…and a second date?

Part 4: Rocky Road

You enjoyed dinner more than you expected to. Dean was funny, and charming, and deeper than you might’ve expected at first glance.

He also didn’t let you even think of paying any part of the bill. In his view, he’d asked you out, so your purse was staying the hell away from the little black booklet.

The only problem was, the freely flowing conversation you and Dean had all through dinner kind of stalled after you left the restaurant. He’d chosen a spot in downtown, so the two of you walked leisurely down the sidewalk, under rows of soft overhead string lights and a gentle chill on the evening air. 

Dean had his hands in his pockets, and even that casual gait caught your eye. He looked good tonight in his black slacks and jacket. The dark blue buttoned-down worked for him too, just as well as the red plaid and jeans worked for him last night. Just like his gray lieutenant’s polo and navy pants worked for him.

In fact, you didn’t think there was anything that wouldn’t work for him.

“So, what’s next?” you asked. Dean glanced over at your question, looking a bit uncertain.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest. This is as far as I thought things through,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

You hummed and touched your chin. You paused and considered your surroundings. There were little shops, clubs, and restaurants on either side of the street. But then you spotted something nearby: a cart with a pink overhead. You smiled.

“You up for dessert?” you asked, pointing to the ice cream stand.

Dean shot you a slightly disbelieving look.

“Yeah? Ice cream after that fancy shmancy meal?”

You shrugged. “Why not? Come on.”

You looped your arm through his and tugged him along with you. He smiled at your enthusiasm and let you do it.

He later watched you try no less than five flavors of ice cream before you settled on the first one you tried—chocolate chip cookie dough. Which you ordered on a cone, with brownie pieces on top.

“The only way to do business,” you told him sagely. Dean grinned and held a hand to his chest.

“A woman after my own heart,” he said. “Here I thought you were gonna make fun of me for getting rocky road.”

“Why would I? I don’t discriminate when it comes to dessert…and only fun people get rocky road,” you countered.

“Tell that to my brother,” Dean scoffed. “He gets plain-ass chocolate chip. Every time.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” you noted with interest. “Any other siblings?”

“Nope,” he said, and accepted his cone from Steve, the guy operating the kiosk. “Just my giant little brother.”

“Giant?”

“…You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“When, not if. That’s encouraging,” you said with a smile. Dean shot you an amused grin back.

You held your cone with one hand while you rifled through your purse for your wallet with the other, but by the time you looked up, Dean was already handing over his credit card. Your brows furrowed.

“Dean—”

“This is all still part of the date,” he rationalized. His green eyes fairly danced with amusement, which you begrudgingly accepted with a sigh.

You then looked at your cone from all angles, trying to spy the best spot to start. You decided to go at it from the side. Though you tried to be graceful about it, you realized you hadn’t totally succeeded when a brownie piece almost fell off. You yelped and managed to catch it before it fell on your dress.

“Smooth,” Dean remarked. You shrugged and hummed happily while you took another bite.

“I told you. I don’t play when it comes to dessert,” you told him.

“Clearly,” he teased.

You briefly looked up at him through your lashes, making him smile. You really did have a pretty pair of eyes. And when your tongue came out a little to lick your lips, he was drawn to that as well.

And an even prettier mouth, he thought. Damn.

He raised a thumb to wipe away a bit of ice cream left behind on your lower lip. You blinked up at him, your eyes a bit wider, and he saw the bout of shyness in your resulting smile.

You shivered then with a bit of cold, whether from the ice cream or the chill on the air.

Dean’s mouth quirked, and he gave you his cone. “Hold this for a sec.”

You did so for him, but you watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned. He tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket.

Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

“Hey, man!” said Steve. “Don’t forget your wallet.”

Hesitating, Dean’s lips pursed as he turned his head to look back. Sure enough, he’d left his wallet on the counter. Letting out a subtle sigh, he glanced down and found you biting your lip in amusement.

He released you to go back and pluck his wallet out of Steve’s hand. The kid looked college age, and chilled out of his mind, like he didn’t realize he’d just interrupted another dude’s flow.

“Thank you,” said Dean, a bit pointedly.

Steve gave him a bored smile.

While you continued walking and finishing off your ice cream, you went with the flow of people coming and going; couples, families, people walking their dogs and with their children for an evening stroll.

You learned that Dean’s brother was a few years younger than him. The two shared an apartment, though Sam had a girlfriend, Eileen.

She worked at a specialty school, specifically with hearing impaired children, as she herself was deaf. Sam had learned a bit of ASL in school and worked on becoming fluent after they met. He was an assistant prosecutor working in the district attorney’s office.

“Wow. They sound like a power couple,” you remarked.

Dean inclined his head. “Yeah, they’re the smartest people I know, to be honest. They’ve been going strong for a few years now.” 

And he learned that you were an only child, raised by your grandparents, and still living in your childhood home with your grandfather.

You admitted to him that after your grandmother passed away a few years ago, you just never found it within yourself to move out and leave George alone. He still needed you…and you probably needed him too, in some ways.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean said. "Taking care of your people is number one."

You gave him an appreciative look. He wanted to ask where your parents were in this situation, but he didn’t want to pry if you weren’t up for sharing. It felt like something even more personal.

You then stopped in front of a beautiful French bakery. It was closed, but you could still smell freshly baked bread and sweetness through the glass doors. You leaned against them while you peered inside.

“Ooh, I’ll need to come back here,” you said, before you remembered that you did in fact have company. Dean sidled up next to you and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want a piece of cake or something?” he teased. “I’ll get my crowbar from the car.”

You grinned. “Not the jaws of life?”

“That’d be a bit extreme for a glass door, don’t you think?” He raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to for quality cake,” you quipped back.

“All right,” he chuckled. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d blushed tonight, but it had to be a record. You turned to him, but unconsciously kept a hand on the glass door.

“When I was in culinary school, I dreamed of opening up a bakery just like this,” you said. There was the gleam of memory and nostalgia in your eyes, and Dean found himself getting swept up in it.

“What happened to the dream?” he asked.

You sighed, letting your hand fall away from the glass. You hesitated to confide in him, to reveal this much of yourself. But there was something about this man that…well, that made you trust him. Even with this part. You tugged his jacket closer to your body.

“My grandma died about a month before I graduated,” you said. “She and my grandpa raised me…after my mom left.”

Dean’s gaze gentled, while his brows drew together. That just about answered his question about your parents.

“How old were you when she left?” he asked.

“Officially? Six years old,” you replied, sighing heavily. “She didn’t want responsibilities.” 

He acknowledged this with a slow nod. He got the feeling your dad was never in the picture.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“No,” you said. “I lived with my grandparents from the beginning. She’d breeze in and out of town, from what little I remember. But one day, Gram finally asked her: When are you going to realize that you’re a mother?” 

You glanced away for a moment. “Well, after that…I never saw her again.”

You took in a deeper breath to steady yourself. You didn’t often talk about this, let alone with someone you’d just met. Yet again, you felt safe enough with Dean.

“But after Gram passed, my grandfather was already retired,” you continued. “I needed a job, not a pipe dream.” 

Dean had been listening to you with rapt attention. This was the first time he truly frowned. The wind was brushing strays of your hair across your forehead. He reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear.

“Not all dreams are pipe dreams,” he said.

You flickered at a smile, looking up at him.

“Fair enough,” you replied.

Your eyes roamed his face this time, falling to his lips. You found yourself tilting up your chin when his face began bowing toward yours.

You felt his warm breath on your cheek, his hands grasping your arms, your hands gently resting against his sternum. By now, your heart was tripping up, double timing. And yet, you felt at ease as your eyes closed.

Only to be startled out of your wits when a dog yapped by your feet.

Even Dean jolted. His grip on your arms tightened on reflex. Both of you turned with wide eyes at the little Pomeranian that yanked at its leash. The woman holding it pulled her dog back.

“Sorry!” she called as she passed by. And she was still wrangling with the dog as she made her way down the sidewalk.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You read the thought across Dean’s frowning face. Though you felt the same way, you still smiled.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek instead.

“Thanks for listening,” you said. “I know that was heavy for a first date. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes were warm when he looked down at you. You seemed to be honest and straightforward, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, he liked that a lot. In his experience, it wasn’t something he encountered very often with women.

Or maybe just with the women you’ve gone after, he thought.

“Nah, don’t apologize…but I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” he said, thumbing at your cheek.

You could see that he meant it too. “Thank you.”

You ducked your head, fighting embarrassment. Not that he'd given to reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but you still couldn't believe he'd cracked you open like a book, without even trying. Andréa was sure to tease the hell out of you for that one.

You glanced back up and managed to spy something past Dean's shoulder. You smiled and took his hand. 

“Oh look! There’s a bookstore open,” you said, and led him farther down the path.

Dean later followed you, once again with his hands in his pockets as you browsed through each aisle. He should’ve known you were a reader. But you were cute, he thought, as your fingers brushed across certain spines of books while you scanned their titles and covers.

You glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. This must be really boring for you right now. I’ll come back another time—”

“No, no. I’m along for the ride,” Dean said with a smirk. It earned another amused look from you.

“Well, buckle up then,” you teased. You led him down to the Mystery section—murder mysteries being your favorite, you told him. He raised a brow at that.

“What? Were you expecting romance novels with telenovela-style covers?” you asked. And you draped yourself across the bookshelf, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, like you were about to “faint.”

Dean shook his head at you, but his eyes were dancing again.

“Nah, give me a juicy mystery,” you said, as you continued to browse. “Clues, evidence, surprise twists, villain reveals…”

“Well, I’ll say that real life Magnum P.I. ain’t all that fun,” Dean remarked. That made you raise your head from the book you were inspecting and look over at him.

“Hmm, that sounds like personal experience,” you said.

He hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a cop. A detective, actually, in homicide. Real Law & Order, you could say.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, and Dean had to laugh.

“Now that is interesting,” you said. “How long has he been a cop?”

“Heh. My whole life,” Dean replied. There was something behind his eyes that you didn’t miss.

“Hmm, something tells me being a cop's kid isn't all it’s cracked up to be,” you said. "Bet you couldn't get away with anything, huh?"

He smirked. "Not a damn thing. I coulda sworn my dad had cameras planted all over the house."

But no, his dad was just that good at reading him and Sam. Granted, it wasn't often that they tried to pull one over on the old man, but their teenage years had been...interesting.

You laughed lightly while you continued to browse.

“Your dad was tough growing up?” you asked. Dean considered you, and your question with a tilt of his head.

“My dad’s a good guy,” he said. “The best at his job. And he’s the toughest son of a bitch I know.”

You knew then that there was a story there, or maybe several, but you didn’t want to push it. Dean seemed to be at the edge of what he was willing to get into on the subject.

So you just nodded and chose a couple of books, which you insisted on paying for yourself. Unlike a meal or dessert, he hadn’t participated in this part, you reasoned.

“That’s not how that works,” Dean said, but he begrudgingly let you pay for your own books. You carried the bag out of the store with a satisfied smile on your face.

Dean shook his head with a smile of his own. Though he did take your free hand in his on the way back to the car.

Dean meant to take you back to your house…but maybe you weren’t quite ready for the night to end just yet. He was driving his sleek tank of a car down the main road when you got an idea. 

“Oh, we’re going to drive over the river,” you remembered. “There’s this little spot right before it where you can pull over and park, see the skyline… Have you seen it?”

Dean glanced over at you with a gleam in his eye. “I have. It’s definitely a sight to see.”

“I haven’t seen it in a while,” you said.

A smile curved his lips. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Let’s fix that.”

The Impala soon pulled into a clearing off the side of the road, just before the Kansas River. True to your memory, there was a beautiful view of the city skyline. The half-moon above sprinkled light across the water. The waves were otherwise black and choppy.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it at night,” Dean said. You turned to him and smiled.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time,” you said.

He raised his brows at you. “We’re not done yet. You’re the one who wanted to sightsee.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You were feeling a bit warm with the heating vents on you, so you unclipped your seatbelt and shrugged off Dean’s coat. You folded it up nicely and draped it across your lap.

You didn’t notice it, but Dean’s gaze drifted over to you when you bared your shoulders again, revealing smooth skin and the tantalizing neckline of your dress. Even in the dim lighting, the vibrant green caught his eye. 

But it wasn’t until the car stopped rumbling so much that you noticed the radio playing hard rock in the background. It sounded like a lot of screaming and guitars to you.

“What the hell are we listening to?” you said.

“Hmm, not an Van Halen fan?” Dean replied, giving you a chiding eye. “Aw, I don’t know if I can trust you if you can’t appreciate Sammy Hagar.”

“Oh no,” you said with a laugh. “He likes mullet rock.”

“Yes, he does,” Dean grinned. “The bigger, crazier hair the better.”

You rolled your eyes. “All right, Hendrix. Mind if we change the station?”

You hand reached for the radio knob, but Dean’s hand batted yours away.

“Ey, ey!” he said, though a smile raised the corners of his lips. “Driver picks the music.”

 You full on laughed then.

“Okay, but can we please listen to something less grating?” you asked.

Dean snorted. “All right, your highness. Let me see what I’ve got…”

You watched him curiously as he reached over on his side and pulled out a few ancient relics.

“Oh my God. You still listen to cassettes?” you asked in disbelief. Dean shot you another grin as he sorted through a handful of them. He considered you for a moment, debating his decision.

He chose a cassette and popped it in. Soon, the rhythmic melody of a guitar filtered through the speakers. You tilted your head.

“The Eagles?” you guessed. The song was familiar…

“All alone at the end of the evening, and the bright lights have faded to blue,” crooned from the speakers. “I was thinking 'bout a woman who might have loved me. I never knew…”

“Wow, all right,” Dean said, grinning. “Guess I haven’t lost you to the Bieber pop masses just yet.”

You gave him an amused look.

“My grandfather is an Eagles fan,” you smirked back. Though you patted the Impala’s dashboard. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve got an old soul.”

“I prefer the term ‘vintage,’” Dean quipped. He noted the way you seemed to be admiring his car. “My dad played this stuff all the time when Sam and I were kids…I guess the car’s another thing he passed down to me.”

You looked over at him then. “Yeah? He give it to you as a graduation gift or something?”

He inclined his head, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Sort of,” he said. You smiled then, shifting towards him in your seat.

“Ooh, that sounds like a story.”

He acknowledged that with a nod, though he hesitated. “You really wanna hear it?”

You rested an elbow on the armrest between his chair and yours, chin in hand, staring up at him encouragingly. Your brows raised in a “go ahead” gesture.

With an amused sigh, Dean nodded.

“Believe it or not, after I graduated high school, I wasn’t sold on the whole college thing.” His lips twisted wryly. “That was more Sam’s beat. So my dad thought it’d be good if I followed in his.”

Your eyes widened. “You were going to be a police officer?”

Dean smiled. “Well, I got into the Academy.”

That was where he met Cas, all those years ago. First, they were sort of silently competing on their scores, each wanting to be the best in the class. For Dean, it was because John Winchester had been the best. To this day, he still held some of the top scores in the region.

Meanwhile, Cas had come from a strict, religious family that drove him to succeed in whatever he put his mind to. Cas hadn’t liked Dean’s casual, joking, surface-level arrogance, thinking he wasn’t taking it seriously.

Dean had thought the guy had a serious pole stuck up his ass.

“I was about halfway through, but I just…my heart wasn’t in it,” Dean said. “Cas could see it. He asked me why the hell I was working so hard if I didn’t really want this.”

“To beat me?” Cas had asked. “To level your dad’s scores? To prove you can be him? Frankly, that sounds idiotic. Not to mention, utterly pathetic.”

Dean hadn’t wanted to face it at first, but he’d known then that his archenemy was right.

“You know…up until then, I don’t think I’d ever considered what the hell it was I wanted,” he admitted. His fingers drummed on the Impala’s steering wheel.

He knew you were listening. Just listening, like you were taking in his every word. He didn’t know why, but your quiet attention made him keep trying to fill the silence.

“So I quit,” he said. “Didn’t tell my dad…but Sam was the one who put the Fire Academy paperwork on my desk. Once I worked up the nerve, I took the firefighter test on the sly.”

“Was your dad mad?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “At first.”

It had also been the first time he felt like he’d truly impressed his father. Namely, by not doing what John expected of him. That was more Sam’s territory.

“But after I made it through the Fire Academy, he gave me Baby,” said Dean.

He laid a fond hand on the steering wheel. It hadn't been the first time John said he was proud of Dean, but that day was still a good one, etched into Dean's memories. Sometimes it blocked out the darker ones.

“Baby?” you asked in bemusement. 

He blinked, looking over at you with a quirk of his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, and swiped a hand over his mouth.

That, and the way his gaze dropped a bit, you thought he seemed a bit embarrassed. Not by his old-ass taste in music, but by the fact that he’d named his car.

What a giant dork, you thought, as your smile grew.

Leveraging a hand on the armrest, you leaned over and kissed his cheek for the second time tonight. This time you lingered a moment, leaving the mark of your lipstick behind. 

“It’s a good name,” you said.

Dean smiled back at you. Right about then, that was about the best thing you could’ve said.

He raised a hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his hand along your jaw. He settled on gently taking your chin between his fingers, before he leaned in and finally kissed you.

It started out slow as his lips moved against yours with purpose. Your eyes closed at the feel of him. Each new touch drew you in further, making your head swim with warmth, and your heart begin to race.

You unconsciously reached out and grasped the collar of his shirt. His hand moved to cradle your cheek and guide your head to the side, so he could deepen the kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue soon swept across to sooth it. You couldn't help the small, pleasant shudder that ran through you.   

You weren’t sure who stopped first, but when your eyes eventually opened again, it was to those talented lips curving into a smile. 

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been trying to do that all night,” he said, chuckling a bit.

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up into your throat and managed to escape. “I know.”

You leaned against him, with your hand still curled in his shirt. Your eyes briefly lowered.

At the delightfully hair-raising feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth against your cheek, you glanced back up at him. Your smile became more flirtatious, yet still with a bit of nervous energy.

“Want to reenact the moment?” you asked.

Dean grinned and pulled you in again, flush against him this time. All while his music continued to play. You recognized another one from your grandpa’s collection. This time, you didn’t mind. 

This man might’ve been vintage in his tastes, but his touch made you feel brand new.

“What would you say…about doing this again sometime?” Dean asked.

That is, between feverish kisses on your front porch. You’d been trying to say goodnight for a few minutes now, but every time you tried, the two of you kept getting pulled back into the feel of one another.

He held you close against him, his hands molded to the curve up your hip and pressing into your lower back. Your fingers were alternatively tangling and soothing into his hair. You clung to his shoulders as his lips and tongue continued to rob you of your breath, as well as your good sense.

You were making out with this man under the porch light like you were a teenager afraid of getting caught by your grandfather. (He was probably asleep by now anyway.)

And you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed like this, touched like this. The evening chill spread goosebumps across your arms, but your insides were warm and champagne-bubbly. All the while, his lips made slow, sensuous movements against yours. 

When you caught a moment to pull away, just to take in a few needed breaths, your eyes flicked up to his.

“I’d say make an appointment,” you teased. “I’m a busy woman.”

You tapped his chin with a finger, making him smile.

“Oh, yeah? Can you pencil me in…say, tomorrow at 7:00?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” You raised a brow. “Anxious, are we?”

His smile faltered, just a little. “Too soon?”

“…No,” you admitted. If you were honest, you wanted to see him too. “7:00 is good.”

Dean was about to reply when the porch lights flickered overhead. Your brows furrowing, you turned and spotted your grandfather in the window by the front door. You didn't like the look of his smile, hinting with mischief.

“Oh my God,” you muttered.

“Did I make you miss curfew or something?” Dean joked.

Embarrassment began to heat up your face in record time. You groaned and shook your head as you turned in his arms.

“My grandfather, ladies and gentlemen.” Your lips quirked. “And his incurable wit.”

Dean’s hands fell away from you so you could reach for the door, just as you heard it unlocking from the other side. George cracked the door open a few inches and peeked his head out.

“If you wanna put on a show, you should sell tickets,” he quipped, giving you and Dean a raised brow.

“Grandpa, really?”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just kiddin’,” he said. “Hey there. Heard you’re the fireman who saved the cheeky damsel in distress here. How many does that make for ya this week?”

You sighed. And you pleaded with Dean, via your eyes, to be patient here.

“Well, wouldn’t call her a damsel, but she’s certainly the prettiest one so far,” Dean told your grandfather, though he shot you a teasing wink.

You couldn't help a smile. “Yeah, he’s got a caravan of us waiting back at the station.”

Dean chuckled along with George, who then gave him a more appraising look. Dean knew when he was being silently judged. He met the older man’s gaze directly.

“Anyway, sorry for crashing in. Glad to meet you, son. I’m George,” said your grandfather. He stepped out fully to shake Dean’s hand.

Dean took it with a firm, but relaxed grip. He nodded respectfully.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dean.”

“So I’ve heard,” George said, his tone a little enigmatic. “You plannin’ on seeing her again? ‘Cause I think you might be a special one. She had me approve no less than five different outfits before she decided. And I said, ‘Hun, if he’s half a man at all he wouldn’t care if you were dressed in a woolly potato sack and nothin' else—’”

“All right, is that Wheel of Fortune on back there?” you quickly cut in. A wilder blush was taking root down to your neck. You pointed back inside, where you could hear the TV playing. “I think your show’s back on.”

George’s eyes widened like he was catching on to you, reading between your lines. He “apologized” with placating hands.

“Okay, that’s my cue. Though I’ll have you know, it’s Shark Week on the Discovery channel. Wheel of Fortune’s for old people,” he quipped.

Dean smirked. “Hell yeah. Gotta love Shark Week.”

“Right?” George gestured at him as if he’d just found a kindred spirit. “A whole damn week of sharks.”

“Great! Well, sounds like the show’s back from commercial,” you hinted. Actually, you hoped he recorded those episodes. You loved a good nature documentary that made you fear the beach for another six months.

“All right, I got it.” Grinning to himself, George gave Dean one last tip of his imaginary hat. “G’night, you two.”

“Good night,” you and Dean replied, though yours was distinctly tighter, while he was more amused. He glanced down at you after the door clicked shut.

You bit your lip, meeting his eyes. “Sorry. No matter how old I get, that’s still his way of being protective.”

“As he should,” Dean said, chuckling a little. He bucked a gentle fist under your chin. “You’re like a daughter to him, right?”

Your lingering embarrassment began to even out into a smile.

“Yeah, basically.”

“With a sharp shooter like you, I’ll bet he doesn’t have a lot of chances to look out for you,” he remarked.

You inclined your head at that.

“Maybe,” you replied. You reached out to straighten the lines of his jacket. You’d managed to wrinkle him a bit since hanging out in his car by the river earlier.

“So…you said something about 7:00 tomorrow?” you asked tentatively.  

Dean grinned. But it soon faded as reality seemed to interject. “Ah…you know what, let’s do 7:30.”

His hands found your waist, but they soon slid around to hold you securely in his arms. It made a heady feeling rush through you, down to the tips of your fingers. You soothed through the mess you made of his hair and rested your hands on his arms afterwards.

“Are you sure?” you asked. Dean thought about it for a moment.

“Let’s do 8:00, just to be safe. I get off work at 6:30,” he said. He wanted to give plenty of wiggle room, just in case something cropped up.

You agreed, even though this aspect of things had the potential to make you anxious. You knew his job was unpredictable at times, but you were a planner, organized and detail oriented. And you did not like the unknown. Hence your mildly anal tendency to make checklists.

Dean could see the wheels turning in your head though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. When he gave his word, he fully intended to keep it.

So he kissed away the reservations he saw in your eyes. 

Despite the pure magic that had been last night, today, you had a suspicious feeling.

It was 8:30 in the evening, and Dean still wasn’t knocking at your door. He hadn’t responded to your text either.

You were ready for dinner. This time in a black dress, nice, short, and enticing, as your grandma had long ago impressed on you: every woman should have a little black dress.

At 9:00, you gave into your instincts and tried to call him. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail. You sat on the living room couch with a glass of wine in one hand, your cell in the other, and you frowned.

You still hadn’t moved the vase of tulips from the coffee table, and you noticed them again. They were starting to open up nicely. 

Grandpa George glanced over at you from his favorite chair, watching your mood begin to sour with both annoyance and worry.

“He’s probably just caught up on a call,” he said, and raised a teasing brow. “Maybe saving another girl from a crapped out elevator.”

You shot him a droll look. “Thanks. But yeah, he probably just got held up at work…not standing me up at all.”

Logically, you knew it was probably the first option, but the less secure part of yourself wondered.

George relented when he saw how pensive you looked, with a tinge of impatience.

“You must really like this guy,” he said.

You looked over at him with a soft frown, but you didn’t answer. It told your grandfather everything he needed to know. Even with the protective walls you tended to put up whenever you were anxious, he knew you better than anyone.

“It may not be what you think. Just relax,” he said. “He’ll call eventually. And when he does, let him actually talk.”

You huffed. But your lips formed a smile as you nodded in agreement. 

Whatever was holding Dean up, you just hoped he was safe.

However, by 10:00 p.m., you were both worried and irritated. You changed out of your dress, but you kept your makeup on in one last ditch effort of hope.

You laid in bed and watched Friends reruns. Even though you knew every joke, it usually still managed to make you laugh.

Not this time, unfortunately.

But, Dean finally called around 10:30. You let it ring a few times before you answered your cell.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” you greeted flatly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. His tone was already full of remorse, but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling petty.

“I don’t think you get to ‘sweetheart’ me tonight,” you said.

“Look, uh…I’m sorry I’m not there,” said Dean. “I really am. I wasn’t trying to do this to you.”

…Damn it, you actually believed him. You heard the sincerity in his voice, along with how tired he seemed to be. And that was before he even got to the explanation.

“There was a five-car pileup on the road, and someone got T-boned on either side,” he said. “It took us basically all night to clear it up and get the injured out of there. Was a big mess. I just left the station a few minutes ago.” 

Your irritation soon fizzled into shame. You should’ve known.

“That’s…a really good reason,” you said.

“Just let me shower and I’ll come right out to you.”

You sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. Let’s just try for another time. You must be tired…”

It was his turn to sigh.  

“I know it ain’t okay,” he said eventually. “I can hear you clear as day.”

Your lips quirked wryly.

“How can I complain, Dean? You were literally saving people.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re all dolled up, and I’m not gonna get to see it,” he said. A bit of his usual charm and good humor crept into his voice. It made you smile.

“And I really put some effort into this smokey eye,” you quipped. You also curled a strand of styled hair around your finger absently.

“I’m gonna pretend I know what that means, but it sounds sexy as hell,” he replied.

Your smile deepened. “Okay, what about Tuesday night?”

“Hmm…sorry, that day’s no good. I’ve got a 24-hour shift Tuesday to Wednesday,” he said. “What about Thursday night?”

“Ah…I’ve got an appointment after work,” you said.

Really it was George’s doctor’s appointment, but you wanted to go with him this time to make sure the doctor was doing his best to diagnose George’s persistent cough.

He’d also been more tired lately, you’d noticed, even after a full night’s sleep. He was blaming it on old age, but you knew your grandfather. You knew when he was downplaying to avoid the doctor, or to avoid worrying you.

“Friday?” you posed.

“I’ve got another long shift,” Dean said.

Damn it. It seemed like his schedule and yours wasn’t very compatible. You were starting to get discouraged…

“Oh, wait,” Dean said, his tone perking up. “I forgot. I’ve got this Monday off, during the day…why don’t I take you out to lunch?”

“Lunch?” You considered it with a frown. “It can be hard for me to leave my desk. I have to take a lot of calls.”

Most days you worked straight through your lunch hour. But Dean’s reply was smooth.

“That’s all right,” he said. “How about I bring takeout? Office picnic.”

Slowly, you smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday then,” you agreed.

“Yes, you will,” Dean said. His tone was firm. “You can count on it.”

AN: Okay! How did you like part 2 of their first date? (And Dean meeting George for the first time lol.)

Hopefully round two of their second date will go better. Though Dean finally meets the infamous boss...

Next Time:

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said.

Your hand fell on your companion's arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

Keep Reading: PART 5

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twenty-nine

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: ahh shit really hits the fan in this one oops

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Coryo." You hum, knocking on your boyfriend's doorframe.

He looks up from his desk, smiling as he sees you standing in the door. You were still wearing what you had worn to class that day, a button up shirt he had bought for you with the orange skirt Tigris made, short and simple as if it was made by your own mother. It matched perfectly with his own mother's scarf that you always wore out, that was left draped over your shoulders. You were looking at him like you needed something, and it just made him light up.

"Love," He closes his book and stands up. "What do you need?" He asks, quickly pushing up his unstyled hair out of his face- the curls were beginning to come back, but they weren't quite as long as they once were. When he's with you, which is almost always, he makes a very conscious effort to keep it up and away from his face.

Your hands are tucked behind your back, nervously twisting your fingers. "Why must you assume that I need something?" You giggle.

"Because I know that look." He pokes your nose as he gets close enough to do so, now standing a foot away and looking at you expectantly.

"Okay, fine." You sigh. "I was wondering if you had any plans for Halloween."

"Hallo-what?" He asks, tilting his head at you. Your jaw drops.

"Halloween." You say again, wondering if it was possible he just misheard you.

He laughs, eyebrows raised in clear confusion.

"You don't know what Halloween is? You don't celebrate here?" You gasp.

"No, sorry."

"Oh my god, okay. Well, we must do something." You clap excitedly.

"Slow down, darling. You're gonna have to tell me what it is before I can agree." He chuckles, holding a hand out you to stop you before you got too excited.

"Okay, okay." You agree. "So, it's a holiday, similar to Christmas if you have that."

"Of course we have Christmas."

"How was I supposed to know?" You laugh. "Anyway, it's mostly for little kids, but still. Basically, on the last day of the month everyone dresses up in costumes of monsters or animals or different jobs- whatever you want, and the kids go knocking door to door and adults will give them treats."

"Treats." He states, but it comes out more like a question.

"Yes. Like cookies, or candy if you have it, really anything." You grin, nodding at him excitedly. "My Ma usually makes fudge."

"Okay..." Coryo laughs. "So... sorry, I'm confused. What do we do? Hand out candy to kids who won't come because no one's heard of it here?"

"That's the best part!" You clap. "We aren't parents; old enough to be stuck handing out candy, and we aren't young enough to go trick or treating, so we get to have the most fun."

"Okay..." He urges you on.

"We get to have a party!"

"A party." He eyes you a little bit skeptically.

"Yes!"

"Since when do you like to party?" He seems wholly unconvinced.

"I don't, but it's tradition! I always have fun, I just don't drink much anymore. It'll be good to make friends, Coryo. Please?"

"Anymore?" He laughs, but quickly shakes his head to stay focussed on what you were asking of him. "Love, I wish we could but I don't know where we'd have a party, we can't have it here."

You frown, thinking for a moment. "Oh! I'll call Sej." You grin, already bounding off down the hall toward the phone.

That was that, he couldn't change your mind even if he desired to- but really, if a party would make you happy, then you would get a party. He would make sure of it.

You had spent weeks handing out invitations to the other people in your classes, most of which, as you noticed, ended up in the trash cans or littering the halls. You didn't let it bother you, Coryo insisted that people just didn't tend to hold on to those kinds of things and it didn't mean they wouldn't come. (What you didn't know, was his near-constant cleanup efforts of asking anyone he knew or had classes with to come to his "costume party"- and people didn't like to say no to Coriolanus Snow.)

You had come up with a plan. Coryo would say it was his party, and he would be hosting it at the Plinth's estate. You couldn't run the risk of putting your name on the idea, especially after your interview assuring parents that you were just there to learn- not fraternize. You didn't mind, you knew more people would want to come if it was his party, and that it wasn't a "Halloween" party. Just a costume party that happened to land on the district holiday that none of these kids nor their parents knew about. Hopefully.

You were incredibly excited. You spent the days after Sejanus's parents left town over there making decorations, and begrudgingly, Coryo joined you after realizing you weren't only there to drop things off.

He never pictured himself spending so much money on orange and black coloured paper, but here he was. The list of things he would do for you is growing by the day, surprising even himself.

You had put a lot of time into your costumes, with Tigris's help over the last couple of weeks. It wasn't anything crazy, just a white dress and some small angel wings, and for Coryo a gray shirt with leather straps, some light chain mail on the shoulders, and silver sleeves. You were very proud of them, but you hadn't shown him yet. You would be Romeo and Juliet, and you thought it was just perfect.

You smile as you knock on his bedroom door, already in your costume. You would get there a little early to help Sejanus with some final touches, but you did have a lot of people confirm with Coryo that they were coming. You were excited.

He opens the door, his breath dying out in his throat as he takes in your outfit. He must have died and gone to heaven. "Well hello, angel." He grins as he regains himself, opening the door fully for you to come in.

"Do you like it?" You ask, giving a quick spin even as you're holding his matching costume behind your back.

"You look beautiful." He says quietly, nodding as he eyes how the white satin clings to your figure. He couldn't think of a more fitting costume for you; although to him, you always looked like an angel. But now, more beautiful than ever. Ethereal. "It's stunning, love."

"Thank you!" You smile, pulling his forward and holding the folded mix of fabrics up to him. "This is yours."

"Mine?" He asks, a confused smile on his face as he grabs it and unfolds it carefully. "What is it?"

"You're a knight!" You say, clapping your hands together excitedly. "Well, you're Romeo as a knight. And I'm Juliet." You grin, holding the hem of your dress and prompting him to look at it again.

"Romeo and Juliet." He chuckles, nodding slightly as he looks between the two.

"Yeah!" You smile excitedly. "Romeo! Here's drink. I drink to thee."

He laughs, nodding as he closes the door behind you and pulls off his shirt to put on the costume you made for him. "I love it, Y/N/N. Thank you."

"Of course." You nod excitedly. "I've always wanted to do a couples costume."

"Is that a thing?" He asks, getting ready to pull it over his head.

"Yes. It's so sweet! Couples will wear matching costumes and that's how you know they're together, I always loved looking at other peoples." You explain. "My parents always do matching costumes. One year, they both dressed up as cats. My mom made the ears out of felt, and they carried Tybs to the door with them to hand out candy. It was so cute. Like I said, they do matching costumes every year."

In your rambling, you don't notice how he freezes up completely, face falling. Hesitantly, he pulls it over his head. "How do I look?" He asks, gluing a smile back on.

You smile, nodding at him. "So handsome, Coryo." You confirm. "Tigris helped me make it."

"It's... a little uncomfortable." He tells you, pretending to adjust the light chainmail that hung over his chest.

You frown, reaching out to help him adjust it for a moment. "Is that better?"

He hates to do this- it fits perfectly, but he can't have people knowing you're together. Not yet. "Uh..." The hopeful look in your eyes breaks his heart. "Yeah, that's better." He nods, relieved by the smile that returns to your face.

"Are you ready to go, then?" You ask, tilting your head at him.

"Just give me ten minutes, love. Would you mind gathering up our drinks?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"Of course, Romeo." You giggle, turning on your heel and leaving, closing the door gently behind you.

He hates himself for what he knows has to do.

When you got to Sejanus's house, you were practically vibrating with excitement as you ran around hanging up decorations and placing and replacing drinks and snacks on the tables, moving them around.

"Sej?" You ask, standing on a stool to be able to reach up above a doorframe.

"Yeah?" He calls back from across the room, turning to look at you.

"I'm out of tape, could you grab me another roll? We brought some, it's in the kitchen. Coryo will tell you which bag." You explain and he nods, giving you a quick thumbs up as he walks by and down the hall. 

Walking into the entrance to the kitchen, his eyes go wide.

There's Coryo, holding out the front of his shirt over the sink and pouring a glass of red wine down the front. Extremely, very intentionally.

"Uh... what are you doing?" He asks, and Coryo's head snaps up, eyes panicked.

"Uh, shit, I..." He laughs slightly, placing the glass down quickly and turning on the tap. "I tripped and, god I don't really know. I'm just trying to get this out..."

Sejanus nodded slightly, trying to hide how unconvinced he was. "I don't know if that will come out." He states.

"Shit..." Coryo sighs, albeit dramatically. If Sejanus hadn't just seen him do what he just did, he would be convinced. Coryo would make a good actor. "Well... Do you have something else I could wear?"

"Yeah... uh, yeah. Just go into my closet and help yourself." Sejanus tells him, gesturing down the hall.

"Thanks," Coryo says, brushing past him eagerly all ready to go and change into something else.

Your friend swallows, watching him as he disappears down the hall. Sejanus knew you had spent hours putting together that costume for him, could he even tell you that he saw Coryo ruin it on purpose? It would break your heart- but he did really want to know why.

Sejanus couldn't tell you. You were having fun, or at least trying to, and he didn't want to ruin that. People were talking to you, and to him, which was kind of new territory for the both of you. Your interview and your kindness in classes and to everyone you met did wonders for your reputations as "District kids". Surprisingly, your classmates had lots of questions and none of them seemed to have any real problems with you in a less pressurized setting. The alcohol was likely a contributing factor.

"Yes! Well, we'd go to the lake a lot. Oh! So, one time, my brother and I spent all day dragging this old barrel up a cliffside just to hang it off a tree at the top. We just spent our time doing the most random stuff." You giggle over the music, clutching your glass to your chest as you continue on a conversation with Hilarius, who you saw as a new friend even though Coryo wasn't his biggest fan. You had probably a little bit too much to drink, spurred on by your nervousness.

"A barrel..?" Hilarius laughs, tilting his head at you. 

"Well, yeah, what kind of stuff did you do for fun, then?" You ask over the loud music.

"Chess, I suppose. Reading, I don't know. Fun wasn't really on the schedule." He explains.

"Well, I'd rather drag a barrel up a hill than do nothing, wouldn't you?" You laugh.

"Touché." He tilts his glass at you before taking a sip.

"Y/N, can I steal you for a second?" You hear Sejanus say in your ear, suddenly beside you and you nod, politely dismissing yourself from the conversation.

You follow him down the hall to an empty corner. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to tell you. "I'm sorry about Coryo's costume, I know you worked hard on it." He says honestly.

"It is okay. Spills happen." You smile.

"Well, yes..." He agrees, looking around quickly to make sure he can't spot Coryo's blonde hair in the vicinity. It was a rare moment he wasn't with you, so now was his only shot. "But... it wasn't an accident."

"What do you mean?" You ask, tilting your head at him with a slightly nervous smile.

"Y/N I... I watched him pour the wine on it. Like, very intentionally."

You don't know what to say, slightly shocked. After a moment of him watching your expression evolve, you begin to laugh. "No, no. Sej, I love you, but how much did you drink before we got here? Because he wouldn't-"

"Nothing." He answers shortly, giving a firm shake of his head. "Not a drop, Y/N/N. I swear."

Your smile fades slightly at his abrupt statement. "Well..." You say quietly. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, but I know better than to be the one to bring it up to him. You should ask."

"I mean, he said it wasn't very comfortable before we left the house. Maybe he just didn't want to hurt my feelings." You smile to yourself, nodding as you decide.

"By ruining something you made for him? Yeah, that'll spare your feelings." Sejanus scoffs, looking past you once more to make sure Coriolanus wasn't nearby.

"He tried to spare them, I assume." You sigh, giving him a reassuring smile in hopes that he won't let it worry him. "It's okay. Thank you, Sej, for telling me, but it's really not a big deal."

The knowledge that Coryo ruined his costume on purpose was eating you alive. The feeling of dread sat deep in your chest where it apparently couldn't be drowned out with more wine or posca or anything that you could find or was offered to you. It made you so horribly sad, that even though you couldn't seem to find your boyfriend in any room of the large house you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

Talking to strangers helped, meeting new people. Some people you shared classes with, and you could mostly discuss that. It was a lot of explaining and reexplaining that people in the Districts were more or less normal, just with less access to resources. You got a few laughs out of that, but a surprising amount of understanding nods. Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

You were here to have fun. It wasn't like Halloween parties back home, and the sheer volume of boys in their own father's old peacekeeper uniforms was chilling to you. Even back home, where you knew those old uniforms were lying folded up in an attic somewhere, very few kids would dare touch them even to make a joke out of it. You couldn't take it anymore, deciding to just step out onto the back patio to get some fresh air.

The air hits your lungs and brushes over your skin, instantly giving you chills but you don't mind. Hearing talking over to your right, you take a look only to see Coryo with a few of your classmates, smiling as he leaned back against the wall of the house. A couple of faces you recognized, and one you didn't.

You smile as you walk over to them, squeezing in next to Coryo. "Clemmie, Livia. It's good to see you." You smile at them, and Clemmie gives a polite nod while Livia just takes another sip out of her glass while the other boy with them just continues talking.

"I don't believe we've met, sorry." You smile at him during a break in his story, extending a hand to him. "My name is Y/N. What's yours?"

He laughs, hesitantly shaking your hand. "Festus. Festus Creed." He tells you.

"Lovely to meet you, Festus." You grin. "Are you a friend of Coryo's?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He chuckles and you look up at your boyfriend who suddenly looks annoyed, rolling his eyes.

"I just love meeting his friends." You smile excitedly. "Are you studying at the university? I haven't seen you before." You say, folding your arm around Coryo's and he tenses up, not so subtly shaking you off.

You look up at him for a moment, a confused smile on your face from his actions.

"Would you mind giving me some space?" He asks coldly, almost glaring at you. Your eyes flick to his, but it's dark. They're cold, icy blue even in the poor lighting. His cheeks are flushed, but maybe that's from the chill.

"Oh, sorry." You laugh nervously, taking a step back and abandoning your conversation. "I... um, I'm gonna go get some water. It was nice to see you." You wave quickly to his friends, turning and heading for the door.

"Sorry, apparently my tribute gets touchy when she drinks." You hear Coriolanus laugh behind you as you enter the house again. It was met by laughs from the rest of the group he was with, and your heart dropped practically out of your chest and onto the floor. You wouldn't have been shocked if you looked down and saw your white dress absorbing the remains of your heart.

Your white feather angel wings catch on the curtain of the door as you close it behind you, and you want to scream and rip them off as you feel tears well up in your eyes. You look around for your best route of escape, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest begin to build.

You'll have to go along the wall- clinging to the outside of the room as you avoid the chaos of the middle in an effort to make it up to Sejanus's room. You'd be alone there.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you keep your head up, eyes locked on the entrance to the foyer with the large staircase, which you know you can take to get to your friend's room. Your fight or flight is kicking in, you think, as the music and laughter and voices fade into nothing. You almost expect the familiar clang of a metal weapon to sound out in front of you as it slams into the wall- but you have to make a very conscious effort to remind yourself that you aren't in the arena anymore. Even if it felt like it more and more with every step.

Shutting the door to Sejanus's bedroom, you quickly shuffle over to his bathroom and lock yourself in, freezing when you catch a look at yourself in the reflection. She was hardly a reflection of you; tear-stained cheeks, angel wings- when you knew that these days you were just about the farthest thing from it. You had changed. You hardly recognized her, and that's the thing that forced you to look away.

You don't even hear someone enter the room until there's knocking on the bathroom door. "Y/N? Are you in there?" Lyssie asks, concern dripping through her tone.

You sniff, quickly wiping your eyes. "Yeah! Yeah, I just need a moment." You choke out, trying and failing to keep your voice steady.

"Are you okay?" She asks through the door, wiggling the handle now. "What happened?"

"I'm fine just fine." You insist, laughing nervously as you look down at how badly your hands are shaking.

"Can I come in? Can you open the door for me?"

God, how you wished it was Lucy Gray on the other side.

But Lucy Gray isn't here. Lysistrata Vickers is all you have- so with shaky hands you reach for the door and unlock it, letting her in. She won't hurt you, you're sure.

Her eyes are already wide with worry as she gets her first glimpse at you. "Oh, Y/N, what's wrong?" She asks, stepping in and quickly closing the door behind herself. "Here, sit down..." She nods to the floor, which has clearly been recently cleaned. Even so, she pulls a towel from the rack and lays it out for you to sit on.

"I'm just a little too drunk." You sniff, trying to dismiss her worries, and slide down against the wall on top of the towel she laid for you as sobs take over you.

"Want to tell me what happened?" She asks again, hurriedly reaching for a smaller towel and wetting it with what you assume is cold water, wringing it out before joining your side on the floor.

"Nothing." You shake your head and bring your hands up to cover your face as you cry into them. "I can't... I can't tell you."

"Okay, that's okay..." She soothes you. "Here, this will help. Can you move your hands for me?"

She doesn't want to touch you, no one really does. You lower your hands, squeezing them tight together in your lap as she carefully reaches up to dab the cloth across your forehead. It does feel good on your burning skin.

You focus on taking deep breaths, trying not to embarrass yourself any further.

"There you go..." She smiles. "You're good at this."

You laugh through your tears. "Well, it comes with my title, I guess." You sniff, wiping your cheeks again.

"I'd bet..." She hums. "But you're doing great."

You just nod slightly, running through lines in your head out of nervous habit. "I love him, oh, I love him; but he won't let himself be loved."

You don't even realize you're saying it out loud to yourself until Lysistrata speaks. "Is it... Is this about Coriolanus?" She asks, and you don't want to tell her that it's a quote from a story of her namesake because ironically, she is right, and ironically, that was the only line you could think of when you strained to remember any of it.

You nod slightly, biting into your lip and letting your shoulders shake with the latest round of sobs.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." She gently rubs your shoulder. "He's... He's not very sensitive to people's feelings. I know that. Just try not to take it personally. It's not your fault."

"How could it be anyone else's?" You sniff. "I embarrass him... But I try so hard to be good. I try so hard..." You cry, wet eyes making it hard to see.

Lyssie looks at you, a little confused. "What did he say?" She asks.

"That..." You hiccup, trying to breathe through it so you can explain better. "That I needed to give him space, all I was doing was standing next to him." You sniff again, wiping your eyes. "And he called me his tribute to his friends- it made me feel just sick... And earlier Sej told me that he ruined the costume I made him on purpose, we were supposed to match! Now I just look like I'm desperate for people to like me- dressing up as an angel when everyone here knows what I did! I don't know what I did wrong... Why does he hate me now?"

She watches you silently, trying to put together the pieces. 

"I don't understand." You say again, shaking your head. "He told me he loved me this morning! I don't know what I did to change that..."

"Sorry, he said he loved you?" Lyssie asks, eyes wide.

You nod slightly, looking over at her. Why does she seem so shocked?

"Wait, Y/N..." She pauses, shaking her head slightly. "Are you guys like... together?"

"Mhm." You swallow, wiping under your eyes. "But apparently not anymore."

"Oh my god, I had no idea." She stammers out, snapping out of her shock to pat the cloth on your head again.

"You didn't?" You sniff. "He didn't tell you?"

"No." She shakes her head, but quickly continues. "I'm sorry, he doesn't tell much to anyone, though..."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning your head back against the wall. "I should have known this couldn't work. I feel so stupid."

"He shouldn't have led you on like that..." She replies quietly. "I don't know a whole lot about you, but I know you're not stupid. I also know that Coriolanus always gets what he wants, one way or another."

"I just want to go home..." You cry, shaking your head. "I want to go home."

Lyssie looks back to the door, gently dabbing the damp material across your forehead. "I'm going to go get Sejanus, okay? Can you hold this on your head for me?" She carefully passes the cloth into your shaking hands and you nod, leaning your head down against it instantly.

She gets up and leaves, carefully and quietly closing the door behind herself. If one person in this city knew even a little bit about what you were feeling or how to help, it would be Sejanus Plinth.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses-deact, @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[whxtedreams]

Those damn puppy eyes

A Poets Love

Inspired by rupi kaur poem

They should feel like home A place that grounds your life Where you go to take the day off - The one (the sun and her flowers - page 180)

word count: 1.5k

Pairing: neighbour!joel x reader

tags: sad!reader, reader just needs a hug, crying, comfort!, hurt & comfort, cuddles, soft kiss, mentions of love, rejection letter, joel miller (pedro) and his puppy eyes will be the death of me, two idiots in love, joel really loves cookies, joel is the king of comfort, soft!joel, photos are for aesthetic purposes only, reader has no description

A Poet's love masterlist - Main masterlist

Your feet are plastered to his front porch, your hands heavy as they hover at his door. You want to knock, to hear his footsteps beyond the door as they race towards you. You want to hear his voice as he calls out that he’s coming. You want to see the smile on his face when he realises that it’s you that’s standing before him. 

What you don’t want is for him to see you in the state you’re in. You don’t want him to see your tear stained cheeks. The whites of your eyes strained red from the time spent crying on your couch. You don’t want him to feel your damp sleeves, where you’ve tried to wipe away the evidence of your own emotions.

Your chest burns, your eyes sting and your heart shattered.  

But you want him.

What you wanted was to walk into his house like any other night, to hear Sarah upstairs listening to her music on full volume as Joel shoves a pre-made dinner in the oven with his headphones on, drowning out his daughter's music. You want to scare him as you wrap your arms around his middle while he has his back to you, feel him jump in your arms. Hear his huffed laugh as he turns around and kisses your forehead, telling you once again you’re going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

Tonight however there is no music playing in the house. There’s no pre-cooked dinner and there’s no possibility of a heart attack. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you reach for it, opening the text from Joel. 

OMW home now darl. Sarah wanted to stick around and chat to her friends. Her team won tonight so shes a little high on adrenaline, get ready for her talking ur ear off tonight ;)  bringing home pizza, cant wait to hear about ur day!

A tear slips down and lands on the screen and a soft sob rattles through your body. Of course he’s not home, how could you forget? Sarah had her semi finals tonight, she had been so excited about her first big game last night. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket and walk the short distance back home, not wanting to ruin Sarah’s night. 

Your phone buzzes again where it sits on the coffee table in your lounge room. The pillow you lay your head on is damp, your tears soaking the material as you lay in silence, your heart heavy. You know it’s Joel, wondering where you are but you don’t want to answer him. 

The letter sits beside your phone. The letter you thought was your acceptance into the culinary school you applied to but turned into informing you they had declined your application. 

Your front door opens and Joel’s voice fills the air, the sound of his boots shuffling on the doormat as he rids his shoes of any dirt before he enters your house. “Babe?” He calls out as he shuts the front door. “You get any of my texts? Got me all worried-” His words stop as his feet still in the doorway of the living room as he sighs.

He walks around the couch and gently lifts your legs off the couch before he sits down with a huff, placing your legs over his lap as he settles on the couch. His fingers run over your legs and he sits in silence as you sniffle into your pillow.

“The letter came today?” He asks after a moment, already knowing the answer and you nod without looking at him. 

His hands still on your legs before they squeeze and you finally tilt your head to look at him. “No matter what they say, you know Sarah and I are always going to be proud of you. You’re amazing at what you do darl’, they’d be fools not to see that.” 

You nod, a lopsided smile forming on your face before you sink back into the pillow. “I know, I just really wanted this.”

Joel leans over you then, pushing you slightly to fit behind you on the couch. His arms wrap around you as you shift to make room for him. His chin rests on your shoulder, his legs wrapping around yours and pulling you tight against him. 

He pulls you close to him and wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tightly as the warmth of his touch sinks through you. You sink into him, your mind and body relaxing as his arms hold you close to his chest, the heat of his body surrounding and grounding you as the weight of the world seems to slowly lift off your shoulders. Your body shudders at the touch, as though he's somehow absorbing all of your negative emotions and easing the anxieties that lay heavy in your heart. 

“I know you did and I’m so sorry baby. We’ll find you another school, yeah? Someone that appreciates your talents.” His mouth kisses your shoulder as he talks and your body relaxes, believing his words once more. 

He always does this, always seems to know just what you need, just what will make you feel better, better than any medicine or solution or remedy could ever do. A simple touch is more than enough to calm your worry and soothe your anxieties, to remove all of your worries and fears and to convince you that everything will end up right, as it should be. A few words and a tender smile and you're able to believe in the things that he says, able to believe in the fact that everything will work itself out and that you have nothing to fear.

“I love you.” You sigh and you feel his body shake behind you, a soft chuckle in your ear. 

"I love you too, darl," he says, his hand rising over your chest and landing just over your heart, your hand rising to meet his and interlocking your fingers with his. The warmth of his body is enough to overwhelm you, the love that you feel rising through you as you hold onto his hand and feel his touch on your chest, your hand gripping tightly as your heartbeat speeds up slightly at his touch.

You move your head and look in his eyes that glisten with adoration as he looks at you. 

Those damn puppy eyes. 

He leans in and lands a soft kiss on your lips, the gentleness of the kiss enough to make your breath catch in your throat, your hand tightening around his as all your thoughts and emotions flood from your mind at once. Every time he kisses you, it feels like perfection, as though your souls are meant to come together in this moment, two halves finding each other in the space and the time where they belong. He feels like home, wherever he is becomes safety and warmth and comfort that fills you from the inside to the outside and back again.

He leans back, breaking the kiss and leaning his body back as well. His grip doesn't let up, however, and he looks down at you with a warm smile, a look of genuine affection and care and tenderness on his face as he watches you. You never want to leave his embrace but your stomach aches from hunger and you smile back up at him. 

“You mentioned pizza?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, pushing himself up from behind you, a mock offended look on his face and a slight pout that borders on the verge of a smile. "Oh, so you did get my texts?" His voice is light and playful, a tone that makes the pout of his mouth even more evident as he tilts his head to the side slightly, giving you a look of mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry, what can I do to make it up to you?” You ask as he pulls you up from the couch and pulls you right up against his side, his arm wrapping around you tightly as he pulls you close,

His smile turns wicked as his lips ghost over your ear. “I think you know exactly how to make up to me.” 

Your smile mirrors his as your turn to face him once more.

“Chocolate chip cookies, right?”

His eyes close as he leans his head on your shoulder, a soft moan escaping his chest as his body relaxes. He leans his head back slightly, his eyes opening again, but his eyes are soft and warm as he looks at you, a fond smile on his face. "You know me so well," He whispers to you, the softness of his voice enough to make you melt into him as he holds you tight.

And you suppose that you do know him, that you know him as well as you can know the feeling of home. The warmth that you feel when you are with him, the comfort that spreads through you whenever he is close, all feels like home. He is home to you, the place where you feel as though you can let down your guard and be your true self, the place where you can take a deep breath and relax.

Because he’s the only one for you.

Notes

it's been over two months since i've updated this fic yikes im sorry. These two have my heart and i just want the best for them.

[wintfleur]

just a little stella and rutgar fluff please i miss them ☹️

ꔫ sugar cookies and peppermint chapstick

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — details ( g; so much fluff! w; kissing, I think that’s all. wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes (MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! 🎄Thank you so much for requesting this! I genuinely had so much fun writing this, definitely one of my favorite things I’ve ever written! There just so cute! I hope you enjoy it! Please don’t be a silent reader!! )

°. — I KNOW RUT IS IN SWEDEN BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE FIC JUST PRETENDED HES NOT 🫶🏻

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

“How are you so good at that?” Rutger asked his girlfriend as he took a break from stirring the ingredients for some more sugar cookies, letting go of the plastic spatula to stretch his sore fingers from mixing. His eyes were trained on Stella who stood at the island, leaning forward as she carefully piped icing onto the batch of sugar cookies the couple had made earlier. 

The couple were alone at her brother's lake house, her brothers, their friends and her parents all out doing last minute Christmas shopping. The house was filled with the wonderful aroma of some Christmas candles Ellen had bought and the smell of the many batches of cookies they had made. If you looked outside the windows, you would see everything was covered with snow. And the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the radio on the counter made the home feel even more lovely. 

Stella stood straight and rolled her shoulders to ease them from being hunched over for so long, setting down the white icing bag on the counter and tilting her head to smile at him “Many years of practice, me and Luke were the only ones my mom would trust with helping her” stella scooped up the small drop of icing almost dropping out of the piping bag with her finger, bringing it up to her mouth to suck it off, smiling cheekily at rutger “Quinn and jack always ate all the ingredients. 

“You mean they were the ones that would get caught” Rutger laughed as he went back to mixing the dry ingredients, after they added the wet ingredients, he would soon have to use his hands. Stella laughed and moved away from the island, her slippers shuffling against the floorboards of the kitchen as she moved to stand next to him at the counter next to the oven. She leaned against his left side, resting her chin on his shoulder after she placed a soft kiss on his gray short sleeve clad shoulder. Her eyes glanced down at his flexing forearm from mixing before looking up at him with her brown doe eyes “Exactly.”

Rutger looks away from the Christmas themed mixing bowl and to his girlfriend, he gets lost in her enchanting eyes for a few moments before he gives her a small smirk “My sneaky girl” Stella feels her cheeks instantly warm up at the way he uttered his words. He felt his smirk turn to a grin when he noticed the way her cheeks flushed, Stella bumped her hip into his before stepping back from him. She refuses to walk into his trap and decides to go back to working on the cookies, not before landing a nice slap on his ass. Giggling quietly to herself at the sound of surprise leaving his lips. 

Rutger turns his head to look back at her, ready to complain how it's not fair that she can slap his ass, but he can't slap hers, she had made it clear before they got to the lake house that they can't be as touchy at the house. Stella already had her back faced to him as she looked down at the island, picking up a tree cookie cutter and a stocking one. “Christmas trees or stockings next?” 

“Christmas trees” Rutger picked between the two, knowing that she wants to do Christmas trees next by the way she said it. Stella smiles widely at his choice and sets the tree cookie cutter to the side while she puts the stocking one back in the bag with all the other cookie cutters the family had collected over the years. She cheerfully replies “Great choice” Rutger laughs and starts adding the wet ingredients, making sure to check the laminated piece of paper that had the family sugar cookie recipe. Stella took baking very seriously. 

The couple spent the next ten minutes or so singing along to the Christmas music playing, Stella finishing decorating the cookies and Rutger finishing up mixing the last batch of cookies. While rutger washed his hands from the access cookie dough from his hands, Stella started to roll the dough flat on the marble island, struggling to roll out the dough thoroughly. Rutger dry's his hands off with a towel, it of course being Christmas themed. He moves from the sink and stops to stand behind Stella, his chest pressing against her back as he moves his arms around her to take the dowel style rolling pin from her tired hands. 

Stella smiles and leans back against her boyfriend, his body heat comforting her, feeling the vibration of him humming along to the song on her back. Stella grinned when she noticed that she didn't have to remind Rutger how thin the dough should be rolled out, he had remembered. She tilts her head to look at his side profile, his eyes focused down as his arms flexed and rolled out the dough. She placed a kiss under his jaw, the action immediately making his cheeks flush. 

“What was that for?” Rutger mumbled shyly. 

“What do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend now?” Stella sassily answered him with a question, raising her eyebrow to emphasize her words. Rutger laughs at her sassiness and places a soft kiss on her temple “Never.” 

“Oh, I love this song!” Stella excitedly exclaimed, startling her boyfriend for a moment from the loud reaction. Rutger doesn't even have to be asked, he moves one of his arms to let her move out from between him and the island, already knowing what she wants. Stella basically skips over to the radio and turns the volume knob to the right, the song getting louder. The very familiar song “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber fills up the kitchen.  

Rutger tore his eyes from the dough and stopped his hands, a grin on his lips as he watched Stella sway her hips and sing along to the song. She looked so pretty she was wearing green plaid pajama pants that matched with his red ones, she was wearing one of his umich sweaters that looked so big on her, and her hair was in a braid, messy from sleeping in it last night. Her face was bare, and she of course had her grinch slippers on her green sock covered feet. God he was so in love with her. 

“I love you” Rutger voiced loudly over the music, Stella stopped her swaying and turned to face a dimpled smile on her face. Stella stepped closer to him, rutger not flinching when her cold hands cupped his face, he was already used to her cold touch. They both closed their eyes when Stella leaned her face closer to his, rutger leaning down a little to capture her soft lips in a kiss. He’s welcomed by the taste of her peppermint ChapStick, and he eagerly continues the kiss, wanting to taste more. Before he could let go of the rolling pan and move his hands to hold her hips, she pulled her lips away. Rutger fluttered his eyes open, his eyes staring into hers as she whispered, her tone filled of love “I love you more.” 

“We're just missing the mistletoe” he whispered back, his tone playful as he glanced up at the ceiling above them before back down at her. His heart was racing from the kiss, he would never get used to the feeling he felt from kissing stella. Her eyes sparked and she giggled, her tone playful but serious at the same time “Don't worry, I made Quinn buy some. Trust me we will be utilizing it a lot.” 

He kept up his playful tone as he laughed out a response “Oh tons.” 

“So, what Christmas movie should we watch this time?” Stella asked as she plopped down on the living room couch, in her hand was the remote as she turned the tv on. Rutger followed her into the living room, being careful not to trip over her slippers by the couch and set the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate that they had just gotten finished making, on the snow globe coasters that were on the coffee table. He plopped down on the couch next her, lifting her legs for them to rest over his lap. His warm hands already absentmindedly tracing shapes on her covered legs. 

The couple had just put the last batch of cookies in the oven, well Rutger did since stella’s fear of the oven was still very much real! 

“We never did finish the polar express last night” Rutger reminded her, resting his head back against the couch. The couple had started the movie, but they were quick to fall asleep cuddled up in Stella's bed, tired from the long day where they played in the snow with her brothers and their friends. Stella hums in response and goes to her profile on max to resume the movie. 

Stella pressed resume on the movie and adjusted her position to move closer to her boyfriend, her legs still draped over his lap, now her head resting on his shoulder and holding onto his arm. Stella’s eyes were trained on the tv as he watched the movie, but Rutger couldn't find himself focusing on the movie, instead his eyes were trained down at her face. Stella was so into the movie that she didn't feel his stare. 

Rutgers' heart soured with love as he looked down at his girlfriend, thinking of how wonderful it has been being here with her. It was awkward at first, because of the situation with Luke and Jack but they apologized, and Stella made it all worth it. It felt so domestic to be at her home and baking with her, doing family things, he loved it so much. Seeing her so happy with her family and the Christmas spirit she had. He just found himself falling even more in love with her as the trip goes on. 

Rut moved his left hand from her calf and moved to cup her cold cheek, gently tilting her head to look up at him. As soon as they made eye contact, Rutger leaned down to lock her lips in an eager kiss, both of their eyes closing as their lips touched. Their lips moved perfectly against each other as if they had been kissing for years, the taste of her peppermint ChapStick flowing through his senses in the best way. Stella was a little surprised by the sudden kiss, but she was quick to tilt her body more to face him better, letting him lead the kiss. 

They didn't know how long they had been kissing for, both of them pulling away a few times from the passionate kiss to catch their breath before quickly jumping back into the kiss. Rutgers hands rubbed her sides while Stella's hands rested on his chest and shoulder as their tongues moved against each other, taking advantage of the empty house to make out on the couch without the fear of getting caught. Just as he moved one of his hands under her sweater, she abruptly pulled away from the kiss at the sound of the alarm going off. 

“The cookies are ready!” Stella exclaims, quickly moving her legs from his lap and sliding her feet into her slippers before rushing into the kitchen. Rutger groaned at the interruption, throwing his head back against the couch as he caught his breath from the kiss, his mind exploring the thought of them letting the cookies burn and continue. He heard Stella call his name from the kitchen, knowing that she would need him to get the cookies out. He licks his lips tasting her peppermint ChapStick on his lips before getting up from the couch and making his way to the kitchen. 

“Coming pretty girl.” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I literally wrote this in like a hour at 3 am listing to Christmas music in my bed, actually shocked! I loved this so much!! WHY ARE THEY SO PERFECT??? Again!! Please don’t be a silent reader, I love to hear your guys thoughts, reblogs are appreciated! )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @bradenschneider @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[leighsartworks216]

Strawberry Thyme Blondies

Zayne x gn!Reader

I wrote 4 fics today what the fuuuck

Warnings: food/eating, kissing, bakery au

Word Count: 1,943

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The bell jingles softly as the door opens. It stays open, held by the newcomer to let out leaving patrons who titter happily about the new sweets they scored. As they went outside, Zayne could hear them cheering about getting the “last ones”.

The bakery was small, but passion made it lively and loved. What it lacked in room for tables and chairs, it made up for with lots of displays for the treats, both savory and sweet. There were several constants that never switched out - muffins of all kinds, cookies, slices of cake. But he had his eye on something new, a recipe the owner had gushed to him about being excited to try, telling him to visit when he gets the chance so he can try it, too.

But the tray was woefully empty. It looked out of place among the persistently freshly-restocked trays beside it.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” one of the employees asks from the counter.

Zayne looks up. “Do you have any more strawberry thyme blondies?”

The employee frowns apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, we just sold out. You’re welcome to wait until the next batch comes out.”

So, the pair he held the door for were talking about the sweet treat he coveted. He shook his head. “It’s alright, thank you.”

As they turn to assist someone else, he peeks back into the kitchen. The muffled clinking of metal trays being placed in an oven, a blender whipping up something airy and light, a laugh or two from the bakers who labor with love in their hearts. A face appears in the window of the door.

You wave excitedly at him. Even from afar, he can see the flour and icing on your cheeks, accentuating your bright smile. He smiles back. And then you’ve disappeared somewhere he can’t see. As the morning begins to mature, more clientele pour into the tiny space.

After the last customer lets themselves in, he catches the door and lets himself out.

-

Zayne pours himself into his work, barely getting a chance to sit down between consultations and surgeries. It’s late afternoon when he does get the opportunity, but there’s not a second of relaxation before he’s working through medical reports. It’s definitely past his work hours. He can’t find a single reason not to get them done now.

A knock at his office door doesn’t fully jostle him out of his focus. His fingers pause briefly over the keyboard, but continue right where he left off.

“Come in.”

The door opens. He doesn’t look up, trying to finish off this last sentence before he loses it. It closes again softly. The light crinkle of a plastic bag follows the newcomer as they walk toward his desk. The smell hits him right after.

When he looks up, he’s surprised to see you there, smiling coyly down at him as you place the takeout on the corner of his desk. “I knew you’d still be here. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” he confirms with a nod. He looks from the bag to you. “But this is more takeout than I can eat.”

“Mhm. Coincidentally, I haven’t had dinner either.” You smile like a mischievous cat as you begin pulling containers from the bag, separating his order from your own. He reads the labels; they’re all his favorites. You’ve even requested no carrots on one of them. “Try to save room for dessert.”

He chuckles lightly, collecting his containers as he stands and leads you over to the couch in his office. It’s barely used. “What else do you have hidden up your sleeves?”

You plop down comfortably on one end. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

-

Dinner goes by rather quietly. It’s not uncomfortable in the slightest. In your time knowing the doctor, you’d learned how to enjoy the silence, take in the stillness while you could. When you work at the bakery, you don’t really get the chance to. The quietest it ever gets is 3am, when you’re up prepping dough and pre-baking goods to sell in the early morning rush, and even then, the sounds of working in the kitchen steal it from you.

You idly watch the city through his large floor-to-ceiling wall of windows, studying the towering buildings as evening begins to take hold. Your bakery is relatively close by, so these buildings are all familiar to you, but they look different from way up high. You’re so used to staring up at them, it’s almost surreal to look down at them now.

Zayne sets his container down on the coffee table. You watch him closely now, grin back on your lips. “Do you have any more work to do?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Why you’re asking.”

You chuckle and nudge his knee with your own. “Dessert, on me. I didn’t want it to get messed up, so I didn’t bring it.”

He sighs. There is work to be done, but it’s nothing so urgent he can’t leave it until tomorrow. “Give me a minute to grab my things.”

While he turns off his computer and gathers his keys, you place the empty takeout containers back in the bag and throw it away in his office trash can. You can’t seem to stand still as you wait for him by the door.

-

The key in the lock clicks, and that familiar bell jingles once more. All the lights are off, tables wiped down and chairs flipped over on top of them. Any leftover goods from the day have been picked off by your small batch of employees and all else donated to the hospital for the patients. Your generosity was a vital component in keeping everyone’s spirits high. He had to admire it.

You lock the door behind him so no nighttime stragglers try to slip in. The last thing you want is to deal with somebody who ignores the blatant “Closed” sign on the door.

“You disappeared so quickly this morning,” you say as you lead him behind the counter and toward the kitchen. He’s never been back here before. “Didn’t have time to say hi?”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your rush hour customers,” he corrects. “There seemed to be more than usual today.”

You laugh joyfully at the thought. “There were! They’d all heard about my new recipe and wanted to try it out.” You push the two-way door open with easy familiarity.

The kitchen is about as cramped as the rest of the shop. There are multiple industrial ovens along one wall. What counter space there is has been decidedly dedicated to preparing specific treats. One is labelled for gluten-free prep, with signs reminding employees to take precaution and follow the guide to the letter. There’s a small alcove for employee belongings, with hooks for coats and bags, shelves for other personal belongings, and a separate set of hooks dedicated to aprons. Yours is easily recognizable from the rest, still dusted with powdered sugar and marked with icing.

“Yes, they were sold out when I came earlier. Do you plan to add them to the normal roster of products?”

“That’s the plan! I just have to find a more efficient way to make enough to last longer than they have been.” You lead him around prep tables and shelves of baking trays to a fridge. When you open it, it’s immediately clear it’s meant for personal lunches and drinks for the employees, rather than ingredients for baking. A box with your logo sits on the top shelf. You pull it out and set it on a table. “Anyway, I’d planned to give these to you this morning, but you ran out before I had the chance.”

You pushed the box toward him. He eyed you curiously before lifting the lid to reveal 6 beautiful blondie squares. They were a perfect golden brown, topped with light pink mascarpone mousse icing and decorated with slices of strawberries. The fresh scent of thyme tickled his nose. He looked at you.

“How much-”

“Please,” you cut him off immediately, “they’re a gift. You had to listen to me talk your ear off for weeks while I perfected the recipe; this is just my way of saying thanks.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “You make listening to you sound like a burden.” He delicately lifts one of the bars with two fingers. The brown-butter blondie is still soft and perfectly moist. “I like listening to you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

He holds the treat out for you, hovering it a few inches from your mouth for you to take a bite. You blink up at him. “They’re for you. You don’t have to share any.”

Undeterred, Zayne steps closer, watching you with calm hazel eyes. “If they’re mine to have, they’re mine to share,” he says softly. The quiet creeps in from the edges. He holds the blondie slightly closer to your lips.

You hesitate, staring up at him like he might retract the offer before you get the chance to accept. This is the most quiet your bakery has ever been. You don’t want to disturb it.

You carefully hold his wrist as you lean in for a bite, eyes lowered to the strawberry thyme blondie you spent a larger chunk of time than strictly necessary baking earlier that morning. You’d wanted them to be perfect for him.

It practically melts on your tongue. Soft and chewy, creamy mascarpone and nutty browned butter dancing together. You look up at him, expecting him to take a bite now. His eyes seem transfixed on your mouth as you chew. You hear your heartbeat in your ears when you swallow.

Your hand follows his as it’s lowered to the box. You can see him rest the bitten blondie haphazardly on top of the rest out of the corner of your eye. His other hand rests on the counter beside you, caging you in as he crowds into your space. His eyes find yours again.

“Can I have a taste?” he whispers. His cool breath touches your warm cheeks, his nose so close to brushing your own that you feel lightheaded.

You nod.

He stares for a moment longer, as if taking in his actions for the first time since he opened the box. Then, he moves in and his eyes close.

The kiss is tentative at first. An unsure press of lips, like teens who had yet to experience their first kiss. You lean further into him, opening your mouth in greeting. His breath hitches in his throat as he accepts the invitation.

You taste sweet. Perhaps unsurprising given your profession, but it burns a lasting mark in his brain, a reminder of this precise moment. He can taste the summertime sweetness of the fresh strawberries, the hint of thyme ensuring that it doesn’t become overbearing. He sighs into the quiet as he tilts his head, seeking out more of you.

His hand finds your hip, pressing you gently into the counter. Your hand slides up his arm, along his shoulder, brushes up his neck, until you’re cupping his cheek. Your other hand rests on the edge of the counter for support, pinky brushing his own hand. It creeps over to hold yours.

When he pulls away, you follow, trying to steal another kiss from him. He huffs a quiet chuckle, pulling you back to your senses as you open your eyes to look up at him. His cheeks are pink with blush, and he shyly looks away to the box of sweets. “These are my new favorite.”

[jaydedstories24]

For who YOU are– Michael Langdon AHS apocalypse

Summary: after Cordelia kills Ms mead Michael Langdon kills the other witches but takes the reader hostage when he sees that the others have escaped. For the first time in Michael’s life, someone wants to know what he wants.

Warnings: kidnapping, being held hostage, Burning someone at the stake, swearing, talk of abuse.

Word count: 1.6+

Tags: @ajokeformur-ray

Y/n POV

“where did you guys go?” I say to everyone that's just walked in the door.

“To take care of a problem, dear” Myrtle says.

“and is there a reason why you went without me but everyone else” I asked.

I take a look at Zoe, Madison, queenie, Mallory and Cordelia they're all dressed in black.

“ You burnt someone at the stake didn't you” I accuse.

“Yes y/n if you must know we burnt someone at the stake” Cordelia walked passed me.

“Who” I asked.

Cordelia hasn't really spoken to me or has been really arrogant since Michael came into our lives apparently I'm the only one here that doesn't see him what everyone else says he is.

“Who” I yelled.

“the old lady with the black hairstyle” Madison answers.

“Ms. Mead you killed Ms. why on earth would you do that” I freak out.

“To show Michael that I’m done messing around with him” Cordelia says

Taking her by surprise I put both of my hands on the side of her head and forced myself into her memories.

Flashes, the burning, the smell of charred flesh.

“I will kill you all” Michael promised.

I take my hands off of Cordelia.

“I am your supreme you may have gifts that the others don’t but you will not use them on me” she orders.

“Some supreme you are you’ve practically signed our death certificates with that you do understand right? At least Fiona would’ve made a truce with him” I yell.

“Do not use my mother against me y/n” Cordelia scolds.

“I have gifts you don’t that is correct it’s also why I told you not to attack Michael everything I saw everything I warned you about” I told Cordelia.

“What you saw maybe true but that side of Michael is long gone I gave him a chance today and he turned it down” Cordelia replied.

“Of course he did you killed the one person he thought who loved him what did you think that you were going to walk off arm in arm, embrace the coven that killed the closest thing to he ever had to a mother. I don’t think he would want to bake cookies with you Cordelia” I spat

“I’m strong enough to take him y/n” Cordelia says.

“That’s a laugh” I smiled.

I turned around to walk back up the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going Missy?” Cordelia questioned.

“To paint my nails so that they’re fresh for my inevitable death, are you coming Madi? I invite her.

“No, this shits crazy I’m out for what it’s worth y/n I hope you live you’re the only one I like around here.” She walks out the front door.

“When Michael comes here and trust me he will. I won’t fight him and I won’t protect you” I warn

I walked upstairs.

Red.

Red I think is a fantastic colour to paint your nails before you die. I think painting them black is just a little on the nose.

It has started my blood runs cold I can hear the witches downstairs especially the younger ones calling out for me. But if I have any chance of being able to really meet Michael for who he is I can’t do anything. So I put my headphones on and paint my last nail.

I look up when I smell the metallic scent that blood gives off.

Michael stands at my door my breath hitches. It’s different looking into Michael’s eyes they’re look hardened much unlike the sweet past version I saw him as in murder house. However they still have the Same jaded look on his face

He stands there for a moment before racing towards me I only flinch when he blows black dust into my face.

Floating? I feel I’m floating I don’t open my eyes I’m too tired and strangely I’m at peace.

I feel someone put me on what feels like a wooden chair and put something on my wrist.

My head rolls forward and I wake up.

“Thank Satan I thought you were going to sleep forever then you wouldn’t have been very helpful to me” Michael says.

“Yeah well that stuff smells like goats ass” I say half smart.

“No that would be me actually” he tells me.

Now that he says that it gives me a moment to take in his appearance disheveled, dirty but mostly he looks broken.

“Listen Michael I know you’re going through a hard time–“ I start.

“A hard time your witches killed my Ms mead and now you’re going to help me” he yells.

“I’m not going to be much help to you” I say quietly.

“You will help me whether you like it or not” he towers over me.

To my surprise I don’t quiver when he stands over me.

“You see when the witches when they notice you’re gone they will have to come out of hiding and look for you” he tells me.

“No they won’t we got into a disagreement. I’ve been arguing with the coven for months now” I disagree with him.

There’s a look in his eyes that proves he wants to believe me but some part that thinks he can’t after everything he’s been through.

I struggle with the rope’s around my wrists. They start burning.

“They’re cursed ropes they won’t hurt you unless you try to escape” he says.

In this moment I found that interesting he doesn’t intend to hurt me. I stop resisting and relax.

“You say that the coven has had a disagreement with you. What could possibly cause that much of a rift that they wouldn’t protect their own” he asks me.

Michael sits down on a wooden box waiting for my answer.

“You, we had a disagreement about you” I answered hesitantly.

He leans forward slightly, “what about me?”

“They think you’re evil” I answered.

Michael seems suspicious for a moment, “you don’t”

I shake my head.

“Why” he scoffs.

“Because after you performed the seven wonders and the extra challenges Cordelia made us look into you. She sent Madison and I to the house you grew up in”

“What did you find there?. Did you find whatever proof you were looking for?” He seems intrigued.

“The others found what they needed to crucify you but I don’t agree with them” I answered honestly.

“If you went looking then you would have also found that I am the Antichrist” he says.

“But that doesn’t make you evil Michael it makes you powerful. I know about your upbringing, about Constance’s abuse, trying to get to know Tate as your dad and your interesting relationship with Ben. Michael I know a lot about you and I understand it but everyone your entire life has done nothing but force their opinions on you” I say softly.

He takes a moment to comprehend everything I just said to him.

“So you know full well everything I am so you understand why I’m so upset about Ms. Mead she is the one person who didn’t force anything on to me” he says softly.

I sighed. He hasn’t realised it yet but she was using him too.

“Don’t suggest otherwise to me don’t lie to me” he orders.

“Michael I’m not I promise to you I’m not” I tell him.

He seems to be waiting for an explanation.

“I have a particular gift that allows me to adsorb a memory and share it with other people would it be okay if I could share it with you” I asked him.

“That’s a trick I know better than that do not take me for a fool. You just want me to untie your hands” he says.

“No, Michael I use touch to transfer the memory using touch. I don’t want you to untie my hands until you’re ready, until you trust me and only then. I’m asking for permission to touch you” I explain.

He walks over to me and kneels down to my level, “do whatever you have to do, show me”

I lean forward the smell doesn’t really bother me anymore. I lean forward far enough that I’m barely touching him. I just need confirmation that he’s okay with this.

He stares at me with his blue eyes that seem to be staring into my soul. “Y/n it’s okay, kiss me.” This is the first time he’s said my name.

My lips touch his and lock my touch is as light as feather. I whisper the spell I need to to show him the memory.

He stays there absolutely shocked for a moment tearing and shaking.

He quickly undoes the ropes.

“I don’t even know what to say as shocking as it is I am thankful for the truth how can I thank you,what can I do for you ” he tells me.

Tears slide down his face.

I hug him. “Michael I want to get to know you for who you are.

The end

Author’s note this is my first post on my new account hope you like it. Anyway this is inspired by a conversation I had with a friend sorry I didn’t get to it sooner I’ve been busy

Requests are open

[baby-yongbok]

Sunset

Bang Chan x Thick Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it up, guys), Cheating (Married reader/ Chan is dating someone) , Strangers to One night lovers, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving) Slightly rough, Uh.. that’s it really? It’s just Smut, Sorry if I missed any tags. Explicit content so MDNI please.

Word Count: 2677

Note: First Person POV + This was something that I just whipped up real quick and wanted to share. It’s short compared to what I usually like to write but I thought you’d enjoy it! Just a quick smutty Chan fic to entertain ya.

Summary: The Sunset diner is your go to place to retreat, it allows you to meet new people while immersing yourself in the arts. It’s become your routine to relax at the diner every night and seek some...company. One night a new customer arrives and you just cant seem to keep your eyes off of him. You have to have him.

The Sunset studio and diner has always been a safe haven for me, ever since I was thirteen years old my step dad would bring me here and buy me a hot chocolate and two cookies before letting me roam around the studio and stare at the artwork in awe. It bought him enough time to smash whatever girl he picked up along the way in the bathroom then come back and act like he was never gone. I never cared, I was too fascinated with the artwork and the soft melodies of the guitars that the customers brought from home, or the grand piano by the entrance being played by whoever thought they were good enough to have the entire studio hear them. I was always amazed by those people, by their confidence, it was different from the kind that I possessed and I enjoyed being in its presence. No one has dared to play the piano in months though, not in my visits to the diner. 

"Thank you, Lali." I nod my head to the waitress that serves me almost every night and she smiles back as always.

I continue my watercolor painting enjoying the ambient sounds of guitars and what I’m pretty sure is a ukulele when suddenly I hear it. My head snaps up and my eyes land on the brown haired man focusing on the keys of the grand piano. Others in the diner still their movements as they stare, those who are sitting around me stop talking and listen to the melody that he's producing. He continues to play a song that I've never heard before, an original maybe? The beauty in the notes that he's playing makes me close my eyes as the music builds me up to a feeling of bliss that I haven’t felt in what feels like forever. 

As the piece picks up speed I start to wonder about its purpose. Is it an ode to tragedy or love? They are both one in the same in the end but I'd love to pick his brain. Suddenly the melody comes to a halt before he lightly strokes the last three keys. The sound of the last key drags out beautifully and applause erupts quickly after. The young man's head jolts upward and a small dimpled grin plays upon his lips before he stands and playfully bows before the studio. As the studio calms down I watch him carefully as he picks up his bag and makes his way to the counter to order a drink. I can’t help myself as I find myself ear hustling. 

"That was beautiful." One of the employees that I don't know that well raves. 

"Thank you, I appreciate it." His response is dry, he's uninterested. 

"Chan?" Lali calls from the pick up counter and I glance back to watch him pick up his drink. He smiles warmly at Lali but he's still uninterested, what is he interested in? He scans the studio searching for a spot to sit and I quickly continue painting. He makes his way past my booth and I decide to go in for the kill. 

"Excuse me." He turns around to me and his eyes soften once they land on mine, why's he so tense?

"May I ask what you got to drink? It looks divine." The same small grin as before plays upon his lips as he turns completely to me.

"An iced black tea with mint and cream." 

"Oh, wow that sounds as divine as it looks, thank you." His eyes stay on mine as I offer him a smile and for the first time since he's stood from the piano he seems interested.

"It's my pleasure, I can't help but notice your painting. It's beautiful, truly stunning." Tapping the end of my paint brush against the table I shrug at him. 

"It's alright, I'm experimenting with watercolor tonight. Would you like to have a seat?" I wave my hand towards the seat across from me and he kindly accepts. Sliding into the booth I get a swift whiff of his scent, a musk of some sort, Egyptian? Himalayan maybe.

"I'm not much of an artist, the world of paint intimidates me." He chuckles and I bring my hand up to rest my chin in the palm. 

"Funny, you don't seem like the type to be intimidated by much." His eyebrow raises at my response as he lets it linger, he clearly doesn't plan to ask what I mean. He's waiting for me to elaborate, but I'm not the type to volunteer information and he doesn't seem like the type to ask about it. 

"Do you come here often?" He asks disregarding my previous comment, I can't help but chuckle. 

"Every other week since I was thirteen, I upgraded to every day at 9pm a year ago." He shakes his head and sips his drink.

"I'm passing through this town, thought I'd look for a place to relax and stop driving for a while." 

"You made a wonderful choice stopping here, especially since you seem to be a fellow creative. That was a beautiful piece you played earlier." He nods and offers a quiet thank you. "Have you always played? Or have you just recently learned how to move your fingers like that?" 

There his eyebrow goes again, raised and displaying his curiosity. "I've always played." 

"Oh, how wonderful you must have such a careful way of doing things then. I've always found that those who play the piano are drawn towards the more intricate things in life." 

We stare at each other for a few seconds, both grinning and scanning each other. He breaks our gaze, sitting up straighter he pushes his drink over to me.

"Have a taste." His eyes meet mine again and this time I challenge his gaze, holding it as I wrap my lips around the straw and suck up the tasty liquid. "Don't be greedy, now." 

A small moan escapes me at the sound of his warning. Releasing the straw from my lips I grin at him. "Delicious, the mint is a really nice touch." 

"Would you like for me to get you one?" 

"No thank you, I like yours." The chuckle that falls from his lips stirs something up in me that I haven't felt in a while. He's flipping a switch that no one has been able to in a while and I am loving it. 

"What do you do for a living?" Eyebrows furrowed and both elbows on the table he awaits my answer. 

"I'm an art professor." There goes that eyebrow raise. 

"Professor? Excuse me for my rudeness but my curiosity is getting the best of me. May I ask your age?" 

"You may." He's visibly amused by my answer. He's clearly a bit younger than me. He's easy to get to but not too easy. 

"Twenty-five and yourself?" 

"Twenty-three" I knew it, experienced but not too much. "Too young for you?"

"Not at all, you'll be fun to seduce." There go those damn eyebrows, I wonder if he knows he's doing that at this point. I'm not mad at it, it's just interesting. 

"Seduce, huh?" 

"Mhm, I'm already turning you on." He leans forward in his seat and folds his arms. 

"How so?" 

" You like that I'm not easy to read, you're also into the fact that we both dabble in the arts of some sort. You're impressed by my age and my beauty, and you've been keeping consistent eye contact with me. Not to mention your manspreading which when across from an attractive female is an invitation to make an advance." He leans back against the booth, arms still crossed. 

"Are you sure you don't teach psychology?" Smiling in his direction I nod before checking the time. 

"Drive me home?" Checking his watch he keeps his eyes on me as I pack my art supplies.

"Is 11:15pm your cut off time here?" Grabbing his bag and finishing his drink he slides over to the end of the seat. 

"Not usually, but I have to get to the next step in seducing you." Laughing, he stands and grabs my bag for me. 

"I should've probably told you this before but I'm actually driving down to see my girlfriend." Shrugging my shoulders I pass him.

"And I'm married, your point?" Making my way through the doors of the studio I close my eyes briefly as the night air brushes my skin, the beginning of fall is always so relaxing. 

"This way." Brushing his hand along the small of my back he starts walking towards his black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I guess he's not bothered by my relationship status, I'm glad we're on the same page. "After you." Opening the door for me and placing my bag at my feet he closes it after me and I quickly do a breath and pit check before he gets to the driver's side. Once he's inside he asks where I live and I say nothing, looking over at me I meet his gaze and smile at him. 

"I never got your name.” he relaxes into his seat 

"Chan, and yours" I don't plan on answering him, it's actually best if I don't. His breath hitches in his throat as I begin to palm him through his jeans. 

"I like to think about how you'll recall this memory over the next couple of months." Getting on my knees in the passenger seat I leaned over to unbuckle his belt. "How you'll recall the blissful feeling of my mouth on you, the nameless woman you met at the studio." 

Unzipping his pants teasingly slow, neither of us break our continuous gaze. "How I'm so much better than the girl you're going to visit, sexier, more spontaneous. Has she ever sucked you off in your car?" He shakes his head revealing the obvious answer.

"I didn't think so." My mouth sinks down his shaft and he draws in a deep breath. His hand tangles into my hair and the other grips the steering wheel. He clearly hasn't received oral in awhile, I'd be surprised if he lasts longer than three minutes. 

"Oh my fucking god" He rests his head against the headrest and his grip on my hair gets tighter as I work his shaft, my tongue playing with the underside of his dick where his head and shaft meet, my favorite part of any man's cock. "You're pretty fucking good at that, baby." 

Humming in response I take his length deeper down my throat swallowing around him. I think that today I'll try not to use my hands, I'd like to make him finish strictly with my mouth. "Shit, babe let me kiss you." 

Humming in response I continue to work my head up and down his dick. "I said let me fucking kiss you." Pulling my head up off of him he holds my chin in place as his lips aggressively meet mine. Moaning into him I part my lips allowing his tongue to explore the depths of my mouth as he pleases. His hand explores my body, fondling my breast and Tracing the dips of my curvy figure. 

"You're a fucking slut aren't you?" Moaning at the sound of his husky voice I nod. "Finish a sluts job then." Pushing my head back down to his cock I open my mouth taking his member back down my throat. Groans and moans fall from our mouths as I sucked him, the anticipation of his sticky cum coating my throat excites me. 

"Just like that, give me all of that pretty mouth." His cock twitches in my mouth and I start to slow down eliciting a frustrated groan from Chan as well as a slap on the ass. "Don't you tease me, slut." 

Smiling slightly I pick up the pace finding my rhythm, it's not long before he explodes in my mouth gifting me with the taste of him. Swallowing every last drop I sit up and start preparing to make my escape when he grabs my wrist and ushers me over into his lap. Leaning back into the steering wheel I accidentally honk the car horn with my backside and we both chuckle after the surprise and panic subside. Adjusting his seat so that it's further away from the steering wheel and slightly leaned back I adjust myself so that I'm comfortable before crashing my lips to his. Grinding into him my skirt rides up revealing my bare ass and his hand wastes no time gripping a handful and landing a firm smack on either cheek eliciting a deep moan from me. Before I realize it his length slips inside of me filling me up and reaching every spot that I need him to. 

"Fuck, oh my god." Moans uncontrollably spill as he thrusts up into me. 

"What about you, huh? Are you going to think about the guy you met at the studio? How he seduced you just as effectively as you did him." Picking up his speed he finds a rhythm that is bound to make me cum early. " How he made you cum so quickly that you can't fathom what a night with him would be like." Just as those words leave his mouth my orgasm washes over me in a wave stronger than any man has ever caused before. 

"Or how about the way he kept you coming over and over again." One of his hands snaked down to my pussy and started aggressively rubbing my currently sensitive clit. The other hand lifted my shirt to reveal my bare chest, lifting his knee a bit and pushing me forward. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth as he readjusts his other hand to replace his length with two fingers, as his thumb finds and rubs my clit. Bouncing with the rhythm of his fingers I end up riding his digits as my second orgasm crashes into me. 

"Chan" All I manage to moan out is his name, the only thing I can remember at this point is his name and maybe how to breathe but even that seems to be failing me at the moment. I climax for a third time and he releases my nipple from his mouth. 

"You look so pretty while you ride my fingers, go ahead and come for me again, kitten." I can't help but to completely let loose at the sound of him as my final orgasm rips through my body. I become limp on top of him and he slowly removes his fingers from me and slips them into his mouth. "Just as sweet as I thought you'd be." 

Littering kisses up my neck and cheek he lifts me up a bit to meet his gaze. "You better clean yourself up, I'd hate for your husband to start a fight with you and ruin your night." Smiling over at him I sit up and pull down my shirt. Then climb back over into the passenger seat and pull down my skirt. Chan fixes the driver's side chair and I wipe my mouth with my forearm, my formerly messy hair is still messy so that's not a problem at all. Suddenly Chan grabs the back of my neck, ushering my face towards his and our lips meet In a heated kiss. I let his lips linger and dance with mine for a while before pulling away.

"Thank you for seducing me." He smiles teasingly as I laugh.

"It was my pleasure." Bending down and grabbing my bag I open the passenger door. 

"Where are you -" 

"My husband picks me up from here at 12:10am every night." Smiling over at him I almost close the door completely before opening it again. He looks at me hopefully with those damn eyebrows raised and his small grin painted upon his lips, I felt a wave of heat wash over me and I couldnt help what I said next. "Y/n."

"Y/n, thank you." Smiling, I look down at my feet before closing the car door and turning on my heels heading back inside of the studio. Walking up to the counter I smile at Lali as she asks what I'd like. 

"A large iced black tea with mint and cream, please."

[nanamis-bigtie]

lucid love

↬ kinktober 2024 x voting event | round 1

cw: fantasy elements in modern setting, smut, sexual dreams, fictional stimulants, reader with a vagina, BDSM & dark themes present in some rounds, aged up characters available as options in some votings, further warnings vary by story summary: lucid love! the latest fashion on the eropotion market and the absolute must have of everyone you know! a collection of potions providing realistic and vivid erotic dreams has gone viral and become almost unavailable in regular sale. a little potionary in the red-light district is your last hope for finally getting a taste of the most wanted product this october a/n: happy kinktober y'all! little birds chirped you wanted more voting events 💅 this time the game will be a little simpler - you will know characters and know what to expect from each option. i can't promise though it will be easier to choose 🤭 voting and more details at the end of post!

It's so…average. Looks like any other potionary.

It takes you aback at first. You've expected something rather extraordinary, befitting a building located in the red-light district—instead, you're standing in front of a shop that could be easily mistaken for a pharmacy. You even take a double look at Google Maps. The address checks, so does the neon magenta potionist emblem, neatly slotted between signs hung over sex shops, massage parlors and love hotels all around. 

The door is heavy and announces your arrival with an old school bell. Potionary is more spacious than you assumed from the window display, almost soundproof, replacing the street noise with soft jazz music. There's a distinct sweet vanilla smell in the air; you inhale deep, your confusion and uncertainty in no time replaced with relaxation. A simple sensory stimulant, a popular booster trick used in almost all shops nowadays. 

Woman behind the counter peels eyes off a book and stubs her cigarette into a pocket ashtray. She's really pretty despite dark circles under her eyes and intimidating aura surrounding her. At the first glance you know she's not someone to mess with, even if short and petite; she must be a mage, and not just an average amateur mage you can usually meet in potion shops, but a true magic master, maybe even the head behind this business.

The name tag on her white coat doesn't ring any bells, though. Shoko Ieiri. Vibrant, easy to remember.

"Welcome." Her voice is dry, and she speaks a little too silent, forcing you to lean towards her over the counter. "What can I interest you with today?"

Hangover treatment, sexual potency boosters, aphrodisiacs, soft hallucinogens—this is the usual merchandise sold in potionaries from the red-light areas. But you're looking for something else, something you're not even sure if it's currently offered. You tried in three different shops already, three times sold out & no idea when the delivery is coming. Demand is huge, the factory can't follow the appetite of customers, and the prices from the private sellers break records on amazon. 

"Do you maybe have—" 

Half of the sentence in, Shoko's face turns from disinterested to mildly curious. She coils a strand of hair around her finger and smiles, "Lucid Love, right?"

As you nod, she presses a button under the counter. In no time another woman peeks out the backroom, bows at you awkwardly.

"Take the register for me." She moves to the back, then motions you to enring the counter. "And you, come with me."

There's another room, protected by a code lock, small and cluttered. Scents and music don't sneak here, space is filled with shadows and shelves, packed to the brim with boxes and folders. Shoko maneuvers through this labyrinth with ease, leading you to an armchair hidden in a cozy corner. Table lamp provides more light, there's a plate with complimentary cookies and an instant potion kettle, an older, almost vintage, model.

"You're in luck, I'm in good contact with the main designer, so I got a hold on quite an interesting stash extra." Shoko turns the kettle on for you. Waters inside swirls and bubbles, turning from clear to violet within seconds.

"Is the price also…extra?"

"Whom do you take me for?" She laughs. "This is a legal business; I can't sell it above the price tag."

You're handed a mug with the company logo, "It's herbs, dried fruits and a splash of relaxing solution. Clean and organic. Treat yourself."

Drink is sweet, floral and hot—but not hot enough to burn your tongue. When you lean to pour yourself more, you spot a fatigued leaflet folded and hooked under the kettle. 

You peel it out for a closer look.

"Will it be to go or—" Shoko watches you intently. Not until then you realized that the armchair can be spread and morphed into a makeshift bed. 

"Oh, no, I'll test it at my own place."

She doesn't say anything, just leaves you to your own thoughts, to fumble in one of the shelves behind your back. 

"Have you ever tried Lucid Love? Or a similar hallucinogen?" A sudden question makes you flinch. Silence and a tasty, relaxing drink have dulled your senses and let your mind drift away.

"No, never." Potions influencing dreams haven't really grasped your interest before Lucid Love became viral. It wasn't the first of its kind, but it grew in popularity so fast and gathered so many ecstatic reviews that you just couldn't stop the seed of curiosity from growing. You still fought quite long against it, but once you gathered enough spare funds for treats and nights started growing longer and colder… Temptation has become too unbearable to resist.

"Any special interests? Fetishes?" The clatter of boxes and folders move towards left and Shoko's gaze meets yours when you look over your shoulder. 

"None that I can think of now."

"Since it's your first time—" She eventually pulls a thick binder out. "—I'd recommend something simple and well-tried."

She flicks the pages over too fast for you to follow but you recognize the familiar pattern of Lucid Love label and logo. You take a closer look once she finally stops; the folder is full of leaflets describing offered dream scenarios, varying in colors and content warning symbols.

"Those are from last year, the second released collection." Shoko hands you the chosen three. "100% positive reviews. I tested a few from this line myself, they do hit the spot."

Even the paper is magically derived, soft and velvety in your fingers, promising the softest and most pleasant sensations. It takes you a while to focus on text instead. As much as it's tempting to buy all three of them, knowing the tricks of magic stimulants, you took only as much cash as needed for only one.

It may be a difficult choice—but it needs to be made. 

There are 45 prompt & character(s) combos divided into 15 votings, 3 options to choose from per each round. Option with the highest number of votes wins.

This way, you will choose 15 kinktober fics: one shots on shorter (below 2k words) side. Themes vary, from very vanilla, through kink and fetishes, towards dark content and monsterfucking. Everyone will (hopefully) find something for themself 😤

Prompts were selected from my private drafts and are partially pre-written, so I hope I can keep the ~24h per fic tempo, however I don't promise anything. My goal is to fit everything in October, stretching it no further than half of November - but only time will show!

If you don't want to miss fic posting time and next votings, you can ask to be added to a tag list! I'll try to keep more or less the same time of publication (so, 3pm CET) but I can't promise I will always fit there.

Before you ask - I'm not sure if all of the losing options will be eventually written. Some of them for sure, since I've been itching for working with them for a while now, but I often abandon drafts for no reason. So, again, no promises. It's better to fight hard for your favorite option, agenda and voting suasion is encouraged ;)

i'm super excited for this kinktober! and i hope y'all will enjoy the ride the same 🤭