#Bear Hands Fake Tunes

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: Bear Hands Shares Comically Menacing and Catchy "Adderall/Ambien"

New Video: Bear Hands Shares Comically Menacing and Catchy "Adderall/Ambien" @bearhandsband @CantoraRecords @RostrumRecords @grandstandhq

Brooklyn-based dance punks Bear Hands — Dylan Rau (vocals, guitar), Val Loper (bass) and TJ Orscher (drums) — formed back in 2006. They gained early attention with 2010’s “What a Drag,” which led to the trio signing with Cantora Records, who released their full-length debut, that year’s Burning Bush Supper Club. 2014’s sophomore effort Distraction was a critical and commercial success with the…

[kazumist]

SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him. 

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent. 

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question. 

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries. 

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays. 

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment. 

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks. 

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with. 

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.” 

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?” 

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

-

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

-

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it. 

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant. 

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies. 

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies. 

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?” 

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

-

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

-

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off. 

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.” 

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why. 

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne. 

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place? 

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

-

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.” 

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this? 

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him. 

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago. 

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said. 

-

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to). 

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you. 

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t. 

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that. 

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know. 

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late. 

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you. 

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now. 

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.”  zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

[righoul]

【Ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ　Ｗｈｉｓｐｅｒｓ】

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

summary: it's your best friend's birthday, and she wants to go out to the club. you're not much of a party girl, but you do it anyways because you love her like a sister. it's a good thing you went, especially if it's a certain someone who can't keep his eyes off of you 😉

this kinda takes place in x-men origins: wolverine. that movie will always have a special place in my heart idc. also, I had a dream about this last night

warning: SMUT! 18+ MDNI. age gap, oral sex (f! receiving), cursing, unprotected PiV (don't be silly, wrap that willy), drinking, dirty talk, logan being kinda vocal, wingman!wade wilson, size difference, mention of anxiety (because mental health matters), praise kink, nicknames used: baby, darling, sweetheart, princess

words: 4.0k

Your best friend practically drags you through the mall as she makes a beeline to the dress store. What's the occasion, you may ask? It's her birthday today and she wants to go to a party at a club. You dread it, but if she is happy, you'll let down your antisocial wall. She's been begging on her hands and knees for you to come out and live your life. You hate crowded places, and you would much rather be in the comfort of your own home, in your sweatpants and tank top with a cozy cardigan and your hair in a messy bun while reading another Johanna Lindsey book. Is it cliché? Yes. Is it almost predictable? Fuck yes, but you love it anyways. You may call yourself a hopeless romantic, but your friend is right. You need to get laid ASAP. 

While you were mindlessly going through all the various dresses on the clothes rack, your friend pulled you away as she already made some selections for you. "Come on, try these on!" she exclaims. Some of them are not bad, but others are just damn right ugly or not your style. As you are about to enter the changing room, you hear the one voice that could only mean one thing. Your best friend’s boyfriend. “Oh, sweetie pie!” Wade announces in a singsong tune. Oh, great. You don’t necessarily hate Wade, he treats your best friend well and she’s taken well care of, sure, but this day was supposed to be just the two of you. 

“Hi, baby!” she squeals as Wade comes up to her and gives her a big old kiss in the mouth. Hey, God, it’s me again, you thought as you looked up at the ceiling. You close your eyes for just a few seconds to gather yourself and you look at the handsome pair. “Hey, Wade, it’s good to see you again.” You struggle to put the words together, but nonetheless, you put on a fake smile just to keep your friend happy. “It’s good to see you too,” he pulls you into a tight bear hug, cutting off your blood flow. “Oh, sorry, I’m just so excited to be here. I can’t miss out on this special day with my special girl.” He’s like a lovesick puppy. There was just something about Wade that made you be suspicious about him from the very beginning. He’s always gone, he doesn’t tell you or your bestie where he is or what he does. There was something off about him. Almost as if he’s living a double life. “Oh, honey!” your friend squeals again, giving him another open mouth kiss. Gross. 

“Well, while you guys catch up, I’m going to go ahead and try these on.” You mumble as you hold up a pile of dresses in your arms. Off to the dressing room, you go. 

The first dress you try on was a shiny, metallic gold halter top dress that stops at the mid thighs. On the front, it gives a deep V-neckline, making it hard to cover your breasts. It has slits on both sides, stopping at the waist and it is backless, curving at the bottom and stopping at the top of your ass. Sure, it was cute, if you were planning on being a stripper. You try on the next dress. Now, this one was cute, and you thought about saying yes to it just to get this over with. But you thought about it for a second longer and realized you’re going to be dying in it. It was black mesh sequin dress that barely covers your ass, and it had flare sleeves that are see-through. Last thing you want is to have sweaty armpits, causing the dress to have pit stains for the rest of the night. No, thanks. Next one. Too girly. Another one. Makes you look pale. The one after that. Cute, but not ideal for clubbing. Another one. This looks more like a prom dress than anything. You’re about to give up until you notice the last dress. You try it on, and lo and behold, this dress was the one. It is a dark green sequin mini dress that stops at mid-thigh with a sweetheart neckline with an adjustable skinny strap. Perfect.

You change back into your normal clothes, not even bothering to show it off to your best friend. Besides, she’s too busy with her boyfriend, practically eating each other’s faces. You made your way to the cash register, and you made your purchase. You thank them and make your way back to your friend and Wade, hopefully she got the hint that it was time to go. “Oh, you got a dress?” your friend asks. “Which one did you end up picking?” “You’ll see.” You reply mischievously with a little wink. She’s surprised about your remark, but she quickly brushes it off. Little did you know, while you were trying on all the dresses she picked out, her and Wade were conjuring up a plan. Wade was telling his girlfriend about his friend that he can set up with you. Well, he’s not exactly a friend, per se, but a fellow acquaintance of his. They work together, sure, but he’s kind of a grump. Now there’s just one problem. Wade hasn’t even talked to him about hooking up with you. Now that is going to be the tricky part. 

“You think you can bring your friend along?” your friend asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll come.” Wade responded. Your friend was constantly looking over in your direction while you were in the changing room, hoping to not get caught by you. “What if this plan fails?” “Baby, it’ll work.” Wade puts his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I’ll make sure to see to it. Besides, he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but it’ll be good for him. For both of them.” Your friend lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I trust you. But if this plan doesn’t work, you owe me big time.” She jammed her pointer finger at his chest harshly and Wade laughed, but he knew deep down inside, she scares him and that’s what he loves about her. She keeps him grounded, and he always makes sure to fulfill his promises.

*Later that night*

You put on your brand new dress that you bought and you put on a pair of black high heels to go along with it. Meanwhile, your friend put on a baby pink dress with puffy sleeves and white heels that wrap around the calves. She put on some subtle makeup while you put on a smoky appearance. Her hair was done in loose curls in a half low ponytail with a white bow and your hair was done straight as a pencil. When you walked out of your bedroom, your friend was surprised to say the least. She claimed that you look like a totally different person, but you brushed it off. You didn’t think she was being serious and you assumed she was just being nice because you both knew this isn’t like at all. But, she was right. You did look amazing.

You and your friend got there at the club, scanning to find Wade. You thought it was kind of weird that he didn’t pick you guys up at your place, but you dropped it pretty quick. You guys grabbed your drinks from the bar and went out to the dance floor. You were honestly having a good time. You felt so free. So liberating. Normally, you would feel anxious in large crowds like tonight, but with the help of some liquid courage, that all subsided. Wade finally came down to the dance floor and greeted your best friend with a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby!” Wade shouted over the loud bass of the music.

“Thank you!” your friend shouted back.

“Thanks for stopping by!”

“Yeah, of course, Y/N! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As you were about to throw back on your drink, your cup was empty.

“Hey! I’m about to get myself a round two! Did you want anything?” you asked your friend.

“I’m still working on mine! But, thank you!”

“I’ll be back!”

You sauntered your way back to the bar again and asked for the bartender.

“Rum and Coke, please.” you ordered your drink to the tall man behind the bar.

“You got it, miss.” he winked at you.

You felt flatter for the gesture, but you knew deep down you wouldn’t pursue it. Ever since you guys walked into this place, you had men staring at you nonstop. You felt like an innocent fawn in a den full of lions, greedily licking their lips and wanting to get a piece of meat out of you. All the barstools were taken up by men, and now that there was a pretty woman in their proximity, they all of a sudden didn’t know how to think with their heads, but with their dicks. All eyes were on you tonight. The anxiety was about to creep up to your throat to the point it felt hard to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should’ve stayed at home.

“That would be $5.50, miss.” the bartender smiles.

You were about to reach for your bag when you felt a large hand on your lower back. You looked over who it was, but looking over at the man to your right knocked the wind out of you. He was ruggedly handsome. He has dark brown hair that was done messily with mutton chops to go along with his fluffy hair. He wore dark blue jeans with a belt to hold it up to his hips, a pair of boots, a white wife beater, flannel, and a dark brown leather jacket to complete his bad boy exterior. 

“I got it, darlin’,” the stranger looked at you, smugly. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You were just stunned, you didn’t know what to say. This man was so dangerously handsome, you’ll do anything to keep this man’s attention on you. But, remember what your friend taught you. Never chase after a man. If he wants you that badly, walk him like a dog. And you intend to do that.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man bent over to your right ear and said with his cockiness, “use your words.”

Shit, shit, shit. So much for taking the reign.

“Oh, um.. thank you.” you replied sweetly.

“Attagirl.” 

Oh, so he wants to play that game. Well jokes on him, you can play along too. You have read so many scenarios where this plays out, it’s time to use that playbook. There was a spot that was available and the handsome fellow sat down, but still maintaining that contact with you.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“The name’s Logan.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You didn’t know if it was the drink or you feeling bold, but you made your way to Logan and sat on his lap. His eyes widen and his jaw a little slacked, but quickly bounces back to his usual smug face before you could appreciate your small little victory. Your legs were across his laps and you kept your legs crossed on top of the other, giving Logan an aweing view of your scrumptious thighs. He had one hand placed on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass and the other hand was resting outside your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumbs,

You guys have been talking and flirting for about 30 minutes, and everything was going so smoothly for tonight. There was a small part of you that didn’t want this night to end, but there was that sinking feeling that you felt that this was going to be a one time experience and you’ll never see him again. Your hand was resting at the nape of his neck, giving him light scratches. Logan let out some low purrs. He loves the way that you’re giving him all this attention from a pretty thing like yourself. But he had this gnawing feeling that he shouldn’t do this to you. You were so young and naive, you never really got to experience life to the fullest. He promised a friend that he was going to hook up with a girl that he knew, get acquainted and maybe get something more out of it. Possibly a relationship. But Logan knows that never comes easily with him. Everyone that he ever loved dies in the end. You were just so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t put you through that. 

“Say, wanna get out of here?” Logan asked.

At first, you were hesitant. Wasn’t this what you wanted? I mean, yes. Look at him. This man is built like a god. You didn’t want to ditch your friend on her birthday to go sleep with some guy. But then again, you’ve been gone for a while and she didn’t seem to notice you. So, fuck it. 

“Yeah, sure.” you replied.

You got off his lap and Logan got off his seat, and he walked you out of the busting night club. You both decided to go to your apartment where you were most comfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind. It was probably for the best since your apartment is probably nicer than his and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. A gentleman, I know. You fished for your keys in your purse and let yourselves in. 

“Please, make yourself at home.” you exclaimed. “Can I get you something?”

“You got any beer?” Logan asked.

“I got Budweiser. Is that okay?”

Logan would’ve died on the spot. It’s almost as if you were made for him. Like he drew a mental picture of you and manifested it. 

“Now we’re talking.”

You giggled at his response and went to the fridge to grab two bottles. If Logan almost died from you knowing his favorite beer, he would’ve melted from your lovely laugh. You truly were made from him.

You both settled on the couch and facing each other, you both went back to talking from the last conversation at the bar. Logan, resting his arm behind the couch while nesting a bottle while you were curled up, tucking your feet behind you and resting a hand on your chin, honing in everything and digesting every word that comes out of his mouth. 

“So, what was a pretty thing like yourself at a bar?” Logan asked.

“Oh, the funny thing is it’s my friend’s birthday and we were out celebrating.” I chuckled softly. “I guess she’s still there with her boyfriend so I don’t feel too guilty.”

Logan chuckled roughly. “Ah man, I’m sorry to drag you away.”

I waved my hand at him nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

After chatting again for about 15 minutes, you noticed that Logan is sitting closer and closer to you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe because of how handsome he is. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him. You caught him stealing a few glances down your chest, mentally undressing you, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight.” Logan whispered huskily.

You automatically placed your hand on his chest, chests basically touching.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” I whispered seductively. “Mind taking me out of this dress?”

Logan’s heart stopped for a moment when you asked him so bluntly. Of course, he wasn’t going to pass this opportunity. So he reached behind you and unzipped your dress. He gently laid you back on the couch as you moved to take off his flannel shirt. He slowly pulled your straps down one by one, as he was taking his sweet time with you, trying to memorize every little thing about your body. Logan finally slipped your dress off of you and the only thing standing in his way is your black lace thong.

“Fuck.” Logan shuddered a groan.

You tried to cover yourself, but Logan took one of his hands and pinned both your wrists above your head.

“Don’t get all shy now with me.” Logan growled. “I wanna see it all.

I whimpered at his rough exterior and wrapped your legs around his waist. He purred in approval.

“Logan…” You moaned. “Let me touch you.”

Logan chuckled darkly as you begged and whined while you’re getting super soaked in your panties, it was leaving wet spots in his pants. He pressed his hard on your heated, needy pussy. You whimpered at the contact, arching your back, hoping to feel him.

“Ahh, pretty baby wants to touch me?” Logan teased.

You nodded your head and he laughed. He leaned down and started sucking your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites at its wake. You begin to moan, and he chuckles darkly as he’s leaving kisses down between your breasts. Logan sat up straight to remove his shirt and undo his belt. He slipped his pants and boxers down, and went down to come face to face to your pussy. He left a little kiss on your clothed pussy and you whimpered while arching your back so far, it almost didn’t look natural. He chuckled how reactive you are to him and he’s enjoying every bit of it. He went to pick you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He placed his hands on your ass, and leaned in for a kiss. You kissed him back happily as you took his face with your hands and you both moaned, fighting for dominance.

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” Logan asked.

“First door on the right.” You moaned in his mouth.

He then leads you both to your room, still kissing you. As you both entered, he placed you on the bed as he crawled down on you. He forgot you still had your underwear on, so he ripped it off of your body. You gasped, not from ruining it but at how he ripped it off with ease.

“Sorry, princess. It was getting in the way.” Logan muttered and then he quickly went down to eat you out. You arched your back as you gripped the bed sheets. He placed his hand down on your lower stomach to hold you down. “Don’t move.” He growled as he looked up at you.

You fought your hardest to remain still. Logan went back to eat your pussy like a starved man, and you moved your fist to your mouth, biting back some moans. “Nah uh, I wanna hear you. I want this whole apartment to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Logan said roughly. You nodded your head as he went back to devouring his desert. You moaned loudly, it almost sounded pornographic and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it, darlin’. Attagirl.” He praised you. “Logan, I’m so..” You said sultry. “Go ahead. Come for me.” At demand, you did and you were starting to see white after this euphoric sensation and you were starting to come down from your high.

“On your hands and knees.” Logan demanded. You did as you were told and he purred at how easy you were to please. He’ll keep this in mind. He climbed behind you as he gripped your ass close to his hardened dick. He slowly smoothed your backside with one hand and he bent down to your ear, his cold dog tags touching your bare back, making you shiver. “Let me know if it gets too rough for ya.” Logan whispered sweetly. All you could do was nod your head. “I need words, sweetheart.” “Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.” Logan smirked. “Attagirl.”

Logan then eased the tip of his cock into your heated entrance, and began to gasp heavily. “Oh, fuck.” You moaned and Logan chuckled. “Easy, princess, just breathe.” He slowly went inch by inch, feeling his length and his girth. It then becomes easy for you, going from painful to pleasure. Going from losing your breath to moaning into a hot mess. Logan began to pull back and slammed it back in. You jumped forward at the brutal force and you moaned in…pleasure? Pain? Honestly, who cares? It feels too good to stop. He kept pounding into you, starting to hit your cervix over and over again.

“Fuuuucck.” Logan growled as he looked up into the ceiling for a hot minute. He went to look back down as the relentless pounding is matching the rhythm to your ass bouncing back to his cock, making wet slapping noises. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You giggled at his comment as you turned your head at an angle to get a good look at him. Logan bent down again to kiss you on the lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Logan then flipped you on your back and his pounding into you again as you wrapped his legs around his waist. He went to intertwined his fingers into yours and he looked into your eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna see you come undone.” Logan warned. You nodded your head and said, “I won’t.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Baby, I’m so close.” You moaned. “I know, I know. I’m right behind you.” You then reached your second climax of the night and you were spent. Logan’s hips started to stutter as he made a few good thrusts into you. “Where at?” Logan asked. “Inside. Safe.” You gasped between breaths, finding it hard to find the words. Logan nodded as he made one last thrust before he went still, painting your insides white.

Logan collapsed beside you and he pulled you into a lover’s embrace as you passed out. He kissed the top of your head as he whispered before you were completely out, “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”

The next morning, you stirred awake as you stretched your arms above your head. You looked out to your window and then you looked over to your right side of the bed, noticing that it was empty. Your heart sank to your chest. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Wishful thinking, you thought. You got out of bed and put on a fresh pair of panties and a short, silky bathrobe. You made your way to the kitchen and then you noticed a tan bare back with dark fluffy hair. He’s wearing his jeans low on his hips with no belt on. He’s cooking eggs and bacon on the stovetop. Logan turned around, took notice of your morning attire and he’s breath was taken away.

“Good morning, princess.” Logan said in his deep morning voice.

“Good morning.” You sighed happily. You went over to him and he grabbed you by the waist, making you gasp out loud. He leaned in for a kiss and you happily kissed him back.

“Oh, good!” Wade announced himself in the kitchen. “I see you met Y/N. The one that I mentioned to you before.”

Surprisingly, Logan didn’t growl at him. He stopped kissing you as you looked at Wade with a slack jaw like a fish in a hook. He went back to look down at you, and smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say we got to know each other very well.” Logan winked at you after your “acquaintance” last night. You playfully slapped at his bare chest and he laughed.

“Next time if you guys are going to fuck, can you at least keep it down?” Wade whined. “It’s like coming across the Animal Channel.”

I picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Fuck off, will you, Wade?” Logan laughed as Wade scurried away. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, palming my ass. “Hmmm. And here I thought I was gonna regret meeting you. But, Wade never described you. I guess I got lucky.” I leaned up to kiss him on the lips and he happily kissed me back. “To be honest, I didn’t know about any of this. I’m glad that I stumbled upon you.” Logan smirked at me. “Come on, before breakfast gets cold.”

[ayukas]

part one / part two

brother's best friend!haechan who can't seem to wait any longer—not when your almost-confession lingers in the back of his mind like a song stuck on repeat. he remembers the way your fingers were stained with melted chocolate that day, how your voice trembled like you were about to say something that could change everything. but you didn't. and he waited. but alas, patience was never his strong suit. so one afternoon, he marches into your favourite candy store, the one you've dragged him to since middle school, and asks the employee behind the counter how to make something from scratch. something sweet. something meaningful. he spends the whole day there, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he tries to mold soft sugar into the perfect shape. he messes up a few times, fingers sticky and uneven jelly hearts scattered all over the table. but he doesn't stop—not until he finally crafts one that feels just right.

brother's best friend!haechan who shamelessly lies to your brother after realising he forgot his wallet, facetiming and begging for money to pay for the handmade candy under the pretense of buying a new game. "it's co-op," he insists over the phone, eyes wide with fake innocence. "we can play it together, dude." your brother grumbles, suspicious but ultimately soft, mumbling something about how he better get first player privileges.

brother's best friend!haechan who texts you in all-caps to meet him at your usual cafe at 4pm, the same one you both used to wait at after school while your brother finished class, saying he has something extremely urgent to tell you. you expect another one of his silly ideas, maybe a new inside joke. but when you arrive, he's already there, sitting at your favourite table, fidgeting with his rings and tapping his foot under the table leg. there's a mug waiting for you, your usual, as well as a small box placed right in the center like it's holding his entire heart inside. when you sit, he doesn't speak right away, just watches you with that look he always gives you—the one that sees too much, that lingers too long. then, slowly, he pushes the box toward you with both hands, eyes darting nervously. you open it. see the candy. a tiny, misshapen heart. when you look up, he meets your gaze and says, "i'm in love with you."

boyfriend!haechan who suffers through hours of your brother's dramatic yelling after finding out, arms flailing, voice rising three octaves higher than usual. "you?! and—and you?!" your brother screeches for the third time. haechan's trying his best not to laugh, and you're trying not to bury your face in your hands. when your brother finally storms off, muttering about betrayal, haechan simply throws an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss to the side of your head, grinning like it was all worth it.

boyfriend!haechan who holds your hand differently now, not cautiously, not half-hesitant like it used to be. but with certainty. with a sense of home. he laces your fingers together like he never plans to let go, swinging your joined hands between you as he hums a tune neither of you can name. even when it's hot and your palms are sweaty, even when your brother is glaring from two feet away, he doesn't ever want to let go. instead, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, eyes dancing with mischief and affection, daring the world to try and take you from him.

boyfriend!haechan who leaves sticky notes in your bag, your books, your hoodie pockets—little pieces of his heart tucked between your daily life. some are doodles, a wonky bear with hearts for eyes. others are confessions disguised as jokes, today's forecast: 99% chance i'll fall harder for you. when you confront him on the way home, he acts innocent, gasps dramatically, and insists it must be some kind of secret admirer. but the pink on his ears gives him away every single time.

boyfriend!haechan who can't seem to keep his hands off you, always needing to touch, even in the smallest, softest ways. he cups your face after a long day like it's a ritual, like it resets his energy. he threads his fingers through your hair with care, pulls you onto his lap when you're too sleepy to sit upright, lets you nap on his shoulder while playing with your hand, tracing the lines in your palm as if he's memorising every curve like it was written just for him. he kisses the corner of your smile like it's his favourite place in the world.

boyfriend!haechan who takes you stargazing on a warm night, lying side by side on the rooftop, your hands tangled between you. he talks about dreams and silly things—how he's always wanted to be a dancer, how he's still scared of heights. you laugh until the night settles into a soft hush, and then he turns toward you, eyes reflecting the moonlight, voice quieter than the breeze. "you're my first love, you know," he says. it's not at all dramatic, not a setup for a joke. just honest. "and if you'll have me�� you'll be my last, too."

notes inspired by poppop! the employee in question is daehee bc i believe haechan would bully him into letting him in the kitchen orz also this was delayed for way too long im sorry plz come back to me brother's best friend hyuck yearners!!!!!

perm. taglist ♡ @renjunsversion @ddolbyong @f6llsun @egojo1st @sungbites @nonverdolly @strwberie @blondemrk @chenlezip @markkiatocafe @stqrgr7 @jisungji @taroddori @haeriaes @kukkurookkoo @polarisjisung @dudekiss3r @dejundesign @uncasings @sweetpinkblueberry @spacejip @yushiela @insbread @t-102 @haelvrty @pl4netx1a @haeivie @natakgae @fae-renjun

[twstedfreak]

Married Life with Gojo Satoru

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵pairing !! : Gojo Satoru x Reader ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵contains !! : Fluff, crack, domestic chaos, Satoru being the most dramatic husband ever, excessive whining, teasing, playful bullying, lots of kisses, clingy Gojo, height difference antics, public displays of affection, and a very patient (or maybe just resigned) spouse (you). ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚꩜ ︵︵word count !! : 523 words ⇢ read on ao3 here.

pt. 1 | next

Husband! Satoru who makes a grand entrance every time he comes home. No, seriously. You could be in the kitchen, minding your own business, and suddenly—BAM! The door flies open, and he struts in like he’s walking a red carpet. “Honey, I’m home!” he announces, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he dramatically tosses his coat aside. If you don’t immediately run into his arms like a dramatic movie scene, he’ll pout. “What, no welcome home kiss? I fought so hard today…” (He did not. He had a meeting and ate sweets the entire time.)

Husband! Satoru who will 100% use his infinity against you—for the dumbest reasons. You try to flick his forehead? Your finger stops mid-air. You attempt to steal his snacks? Nope, your hand just hovers in place, and he smirks. “Ah, ah, ah~ only good spouses get a bite,” he teases, before popping the treat into his mouth and humming in satisfaction. The audacity. The disrespect.

Husband! Satoru who definitely fakes injuries for attention. “Baaabe,” he whines, draping himself across your lap like he’s on his deathbed. “I barely survived today… my students were so mean… I need comfort… kiss my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, but when you don’t immediately comply, he gasps. Gasps. “Oh my god. You’re heartless. I married a monster.”

Husband! Satoru who absolutely bullies you with love. If you yawn, he pokes your cheek and coos, “Aww, is my little baby sleepy?” If you wear his clothes (which, by the way, are now yours), he melts on the spot. “Look at you~ all cute and wifey~” And if you ever trip over nothing? He’s already behind you, whispering, “Don’t worry, babe… I’ll still love you even if gravity doesn’t.”

Husband! Satoru who abuses his height difference just to annoy you. Need something from the top shelf? He grabs it… but then holds it above your head, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh? You want this? Say ‘please, my amazing, incredibly handsome husband~’” Smack him. Immediately.

Husband! Satoru who has zero chill in public. The second someone so much as looks at you for too long, he’s pulling you into his side, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your cheek. “Aww, babe, you’re so popular~ But don’t worry, I know you only have eyes for me.” Meanwhile, the poor stranger was literally just walking by.

Husband! Satoru who dramatically complains whenever you leave the bed first. “Nooo, don’t gooo,” he groans, wrapping his entire body around you like a human octopus. “Stay with me. We can survive on love and air conditioning.” When you finally pry yourself free, he flops back against the pillows with a defeated sigh. “So this is what heartbreak feels like.”

Husband! Satoru who always makes sure you know just how much he loves you. Whether it’s pulling you close at night, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, or whispering “You’re my favorite person in the world” when he thinks you’re asleep, he means every word. And honestly? You wouldn’t trade your ridiculous, over-the-top, drama king of a husband for anything.

…Well. Maybe for five minutes of peace. A/N: I’m going to be dumping all my works here, so please bear with me! I’ll also be adding a few more parts next, so stay tuned. Hope you enjoy reading! 😊

Credits to @cafekitsune for the pretty divider! :3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡꩜ ©freakycafetomoe : Do not steal, modify, tweak, translate, or plagiarize anything from my blog. Do not use / copy my template or theme. Respect my work and creativity, love u guys. 🚨

navigation. taglist. jjk masterlist. ˚ 　 ⤹ 　 ❝ ©freakycafetomoe

[invincibledc]

⋆˙⟡THE BEAST AND THE BEAUTY ⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ DEMETRIUS PRINCE (OC) X CIVILIAN!READER⋆˙⟡

SUMMARY: the beast always finding the beauty in the home of their city.

GENRE: fluff + silly

INFO: This is a superson OC I’ve written for my own amusement. Demetrius is clearly the son of Diana Prince, and being the older brother of Elizabeth “Lizzie” Prince. He’s canonically handsome cause he’s the son of Diana Prince and Steve Trevor (this is my own AU. SO YES STEVE IS ALIVE!!). Demetrius is a brute, and in here superson trio is 15-17 along with reader.

WORD COUNT: 833

Humming a small tune, the boy with tanned skin, blue eyes, and black wavy hair flew across the city you live in. He slightly cared if he was caught flying out of his hero persona.

But hell, he skipped a boy’s hang-out with Damian and Jon.

Getting a text from Damian that said, “Are you abandoning us for l/n?” his text held a disappointed tone whilst Jon sent a crying face emoji. The Amazon boy scrunched up his face before leaving them on reading and putting his phone up.

Demetrius couldn't care as he put his phone down, sure he loved his best friends.

But does he care? No.

Does he care when you say you want to hang out?

Hell yeah.

So here he is, landing in front of your apartment door with a key you've given him—although you gave it to the other people. You gave it to him first and he’s never been able to let that down. He enters your place, smirking that charming smug look he always has as he looks around the apartment.

“Oh honeyyy!~ I'm home!!” he yells, his lofty frame leaning against the kitchen counter. He hums before he looks over, seeing you smile at him cheerfully by the doorframe to your room.

Demetrius couldn't help but smile, he let his arms out—letting you run into his arms. “Demetri!” you cried out happily, loving how he could just easily hold you around. He placed his hands under your thighs, walking over to the couch that faced the TV.

“Hey, how's my favorite person doing?” he asked, sitting down with you cuddling close to him.

“Good!” you lean your head off his shoulder, giving him a soft smile as he nods—patting your thighs. He mirrors your smile, loving how this is his calm place.

Even after he tried so hard to fake who he was; wearing glasses, changing his hairstyle, and lying about who he was. He didn't know you would just accept him as the son of Wonder Woman.

Being the son of a superhero isn't easy, especially being a big brother when Lizzie keeps making fun of him for always sneaking out to your place.

Always walking in with her unicorn shirt and holding her doll as she snickers. Demetrius is already flustered, pushing his little sister out of his room.

But now, here he is—relaxing with his serenity. You wore mixed matching socks with a big hoodie and basketball shorts, clearly fresh from school attire as he watched you play a new favorite movie of yours on Hulu.

Demetrius wasn't the one to have a so-called “soft spot” for anyone. Sure he has one for his close friends and his family, but damn does he have one for you.

“Do you wanna relax?” You turned towards him as the long and aggravating ads started to play. “You still got a hoodie here with some joggers.” you turned from him as you could hear him get him. He stretched, popping his bones with a small grin.

“Alright then, I’ll change for ya’ shorty.” he walks off before he could hear you insult him back. He soon comes back, looking at you sitting on the couch, crisscrossed with your legs.

Looking up from your phone, you gave him a soft smile. Demetrius swore an arrow flew through his heart and it wasn't Cupid or Apollo. Getting ready to jump onto his beloved leisure, Damian and Jon showed up—leading Demetrius to fall on his face in front of you.

Damian smirks, deliberately and smugly. Jon just looked happy to see you as he gave you a nice bear hug.

The two supersons sat down, leading you to be in the middle of them. Damian with his arms crossed and a leg over his other, and Jon with his hands on his lap—patting his thighs as he sways his head side to side.

“Well, Prince, nice to meet you here. We didn't expect you to be here—”

“What the Athena are you doing here?!” Demetrius yells, pointing towards Damian who raises a brow.

“Well, why wouldn't I be here,” Damian places an arm behind you, and if you looked closely, you could catch a glimpse of a vein pulsing in anger along with an angry mark on the boy. “We’re all best friends. Aren't we, l/n?” he asks you, turning his head to see you having a scrunched-up face.

“I suppose…?” your words dragged as you weren't sure how to answer his question before Demetrius lunged at Damian. Flinging him and the green-eyed boy to the back of the couch.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” you yelled as Jon jumped over the couch to prevent the Amazon male from harming the ex-assassin.

Sighing, you facepalmed as you couldn't—but could believe that this would've happened as Jon is screeching when he gets thrown above your head.

You dodge him effortlessly in case he almost hits your head as you watch your movie.

This is so, not Beauty and the Beast.

[messylustt]

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ maybe more? — miguel o’hara + reader: you make a decision that miguel isn’t too pleased about. miguel doesn’t like this ‘someone’.

contents : includes fluff :(( bit of angst (ends well). mentions of cheating (not miguel or reader) — pls let’s just ignore the comic miguel (coz he may or may not have cheated) and focus on movie miguel. thank you. wc 1.4k.

pt one pt two pt three

you walked alone, head muffled. you've found taking one step in front of the other helps focus those muffled voices. maybe then you could make sense of them. maybe then your heart wouldn't feel so heavy.

so, toe after toe you ventured around HQ, humming a soft tune to focus on your breath rather than the voices you found you couldn't make out. but then there was a clearer one, a deeper one, getting your attention.

you look up to see miguel eyeing you and your distracted self. you smile. "miguel, hey."

miguel's eyes dart. ever since the news of your hug had circled the spider society every spider-person had made their own assumption. lovers? close friends? related?—that was a strange and short lived one to circulate. but people could just not fathom how miguel would ever want to hug anyone. you being a family member seemed more plausible at the time.

but now everyone has circled back to potential lovers. but you have someone. had someone... you aren't too sure. because the reminded tug at your heartstrings earns your smile to slightly drop. miguel notices. his inspection of you turning more detailed. "you don't look annoyingly happy." he states monotonously.

you focus your gaze and push away your heart, placing that smile you always seemed to bear back on. "what? you mean how you don't look everyday?" you tilt your head.

to outsiders you would seem normal, fine, happy. but to miguel you seemed far from it. to miguel you seemed troubled, not yourself. and it sets an uncomfortable feeling low in his stomach. he didn't like not seeing you as your bright, bubbly self. Because slowly you had become his rock, his comfort of sorts. and if you weren't stable, how could he ever be?

he steps closer, tapping your chin to raise it up, as you had begun to get distracted in the slightly shiny floor. you meet his gaze, forcing that smile back on. but Miguel places two clawed fingers against your cheeks, drawing that smile down. "don't smile unless you mean it." he muttered.

you were quite surprised by how intensively he had begun to take note of you. you had caught him always eyeing you in briefings, or in the cafeteria (if you can call it that). it now kinda makes sense the whole assumption of 'lovers'. but you weren't. and you personally didn't think you'd ever be. miguel wasn't the type.

you step backwards, away from his close hold, and miguel has the urge to pull you back, his hand slightly moving with you to hold your wrist. "are you free?" he asks quietly. and now you could spot the slight bags under his eyes, proving his need for "comfort".

but you had been thinking. though it's been nice, and you haven't minded it. miguel's hands have begun to drift more permanently around you. the hugs had become to feel far more intimate. you have someone...had someone...someone who you still liked, and someone who you hoped still liked you.

that's where the confusion settled, and the tug of your heart. you couldn't carry on this...whatever this thing was with miguel. it wasn't right. because your feelings had began to not feel right. you have/had someone.

you take your hand away from his hold and miguel's eyes narrow, quickly darting up to your face again. you place that forced smile back on and miguel's lips twitch in a snarl. He didn't want you to be fake around him.

"i'm sorry...not this time...I'm...busy." you space the words out far too randomly and of course miguel takes notice.

"this time?"

you gulp. "and maybe next time."

miguel grinds his teeth. "and the time after that?" he speaks a fraction harsher.

"...and the time after that." you confirm, looking away from his gaze, because you did feel bad. but it wasn't right being that alone and intimate when you have…had—god, just whatever this 'someone' was, point blank you felt it was wrong.

you stand straighter, finally meeting his gaze. and you almost flinch. not because of an expected hardness, but because of a soft...desperation? That couldn't be right... miguel didn't need your hugs like he does air...no.

yes. miguel has been forced to realise that himself. he does need your hugs, he craves them. and in all honesty he hadn't had the chance to think of himself without them. but here you stand, telling him 'that's it'.

"that's it, then?" he asks slowly.

you slowly nod. "i am sorry. but I know for a fact that peter is a great hugger. plus his pink dressing gown makes everything fluffy—“

miguel cuts you off. "peter? you really think i want a hug from him?"

you shrug. "as i said: great hugger."

miguel opens his mouth then pauses. "how do you know that?"

"uh...well, cause I've hugged him before?" you lightly chuckle.

maybe miguel had also noticed the 'intimacy' that had grown between your hugs. because now his chest is aching with a form of...jealousy? over peter? and not in the way a lover feels jealous necessarily. but in the way he wanted your hugs for himself.

yes, that made him selfish, and probably unreasonable. but he liked the thought of something so special as a hug from you being something for him. and now you were saying no, and offering peter up as a substitute? no one could substitute you. no one.

so, miguel began to shake his head. "do you really think that peter's hug could suffice for yours?" he narrowed his eyes, seeing if you truly believed that.

you again shrug. "it's just a hug, isn't it?" because if it was something more than you were right to stop this. miguel's jaw clenched. it was supposed to be, wasn't it? a bit of relief.

maybe that relief has turned into an addiction? maybe the term 'a simple hug' has turned into so much more? all miguel knew was that he didn't want to stop this. he didn't want to not be able to have your body pressed against his.

a voice suddenly calls your name, making you spin. your heart thumps, seeing that 'someone' walk up. a 'peter' spider-man variant. generic, so you chose to call him by his middle name, 'jessy'. named after his childhood dog.

"jessy..." your smile was the brightest miguel thinks he's ever seen. and that seems to only dampen his already soured mood. "finished a mission?" you eye his heaving chest.

jessy nods, looping his arms around your waist and giving your cheek a kiss. miguel almost flinched at the visual, his gaze getting caught up in jessy's hand. it's placement somewhere miguel had used quite often. but then miguel looks back to Jessy's face. and then back to your bright smile.

you two couldn't be...because that would mean...jessy had cheated.

miguel remembers passing by a room, moans and whimpers piercing the otherwise silence. miguel had pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering in annoyance. he banged on the door, not daring to look in. "this is communal space...you know that right?" he growled out, as he heard the moans quiten, as voices muttered together. "get out of the office." and then he left, but not before his gaze caught the sight of jessy's face and the girl that certainly wasn't you.

miguel would probably have reacted differently if he'd seen you there, pressed against jessy like that.

miguel now hardens his gaze on jessy, because then he leant forward and pecked your lips, making miguel's claws cut skin. your bright smile showed that you were oblivious to jessy's "secret" doings. but that's why your heart tugged so hard. you knew. those muffled voices were your subconscious trying to drown out thoughts of reason.

things like 'you deserve better', 'don't let him kiss you'...'end it'. all those sensible thoughts getting shoved into a basin of water, left to drown and die. you hated to admit to yourself that someone had cheated on you. it made more prominent thoughts circle the top of the water, free from harm. 'am I not good enough?', 'did I do something wrong?'...'it's probably my fault'.

miguel speaks your name, making you shift your gaze to him. "a mission. you're needed." he says, beginning to walk away. a mission? but you follow anyway, waving jessy goodbye as you slipped into miguel's office.

"sorry, i didn't know i had one today. i would've been more prepared—"

"jessy..." miguel is turning back to you, brows furrowed as he thinks of how to word this. "how long?"

your brows furrow a moment, before the lines smooth. "...a decent while. why?"

miguel grinds his teeth. "there isn't...really anyway to put this..."

you lightly chuckle, trying to ease the settling tension. "you...okay?"

no. he wasn't. because you had said to 'stop this'. but now wasn't the time... "i caught..." god, this was a lot harder to say then he had initially thought.

but when he had said that you had begun to clock on. it's not a surprise someone else had seen them. they were being rather loud. your smile had begun to fade as you muttered. "i...i know..."

miguel immediately looks up at this. "what?..."

you lick your lips, avoiding eye contact. "i appreciate you trying to tell me. that must have been annoying to hold." you lightly chuckle. but this time its void of any happiness. "but just...can you please forget you saw anything?"

you finally meet his gaze, fiddling with your fingers, as you try not to produce a sad expression. but miguel catches it. he always does. his chest is beginning to heave. because jessy cheated on you, of all people. and you knew about it. and you still let him touch and kiss you.

miguel wasn't having any of it.

he stalked forward, making you slightly stumble back. "i'm sorry...did i catch that wrong? you knew? you fucking knew, and you let him..." he's breathing hard, and you don't know why he's so worked up.

"it's...complicated, alright?" you say. "and if that's all, i think i'll go." you move to turn but miguel is grabbing you back, forcing you close to him, because he was pissed.

"you let him touch you...kiss you. after he touched and kissed someone else?" miguel's words are harsh and they bite at your heart.

your face has actually fallen to a scowl. "i again appreciate the concern, or whatever. but you have no place to say that."

you'd hugged a few times. that's it. miguel isn't blind to that fact. but he can't be blind to the one that is making him want to tear jessy to shreds. "maybe it's not. but i'm making it my place. because you aren't doing anything about it. you can't just let him touch you after—“

"he's touched someone else. yeah, i got it, miguel." you try to get out of his tight grip again, but to no avail. "miguel." you say harsher. because all this talk about jessy feeling up someone else is making your heart crack wide open, leaving tears to well in your eyes. you didn't want to cry.

crying would mean that the basin full of water would drain, leaving you to the dead carcasses of your reasonable thoughts. you don't think you could face yourself after seeing that.

"let. go." you say slowly, willing the frog in your throat to just hop away. miguel's grip only tightens, because he's noticing your glistening eyes, he's noticing your crumbling stature. and in all honesty he wants to catch you. this time be the one to comfort you.

so, he brings you closer, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck, as he engulfs your waist in a hug. and that's when you finally break, tears spilling as your hiccuped sniffles meet miguel's ears, only making him hold you tighter.

you were crying into his neck, that basin now draining as you tightened your hold around miguel like a lifeline. after a while miguel had begun whispering things in your ear, as you took note of the empty basin full of your dead reasonable thoughts. "you deserve so much better...he doesn't deserve any bit of you...por favor."

you had never heard miguel sounding so sincere...so vulnerable, even though you were the one crying. then his lips were grazing your ear, drawing you even closer if possible. "don't let him kiss you...don't let him...touch you..." and then as his hands had begun to find solace under your split suit by your hips, rubbing your warm skin, he whispered "...end it".

he had spoken all those dead thoughts of yours. given his own voice in turn for your faulty subconscious. he wanted you to listen to him, seeing your hesitance in leaving ejssy. through sniffles you say "i don't know...if i can..."

"why not?" miguel's tone had entirely softened, your breathing—even though shaky—still your breathing against his neck, calming him.

"i...don't know." you finally say. because you didn't. maybe in truth you felt you couldn't get much better. you didn't want to lose someone that had been so prominent in your life. and miguel seemed to read between the lines, or maybe you head said that out loud?

"you can get anyone...cariño...really anyone." miguel muttered, open mouth dragging close to your ear. "and i..." he drifts off, making you lean your head away, brushing your tear stained cheeks as you met his gaze. miguel tightened his hold around your waist, scared you were going to step farther away, and so he rushed the rest out. "i can be more prominent."

you stare at him, eyes widening a fraction. miguel licks his lips. "can...i be more prominent?"

your mouth is opening and closing. "prominent?" you ask, feeling stupid.

miguel actually feels nervous as he stares down at your slight red eyes and nose, his hand moving up to brush more tears away. "or be just...more."

"more?"

"mhm." miguel hums, the air feeling calmer. your muffled voices now gone in replace for miguel's. "please end it."

you gulp. miguel hasn't stopped caressing your face and waist, not until you agreed. maybe not even after that. "por favor...please."

then you found yourself nodding, and miguel doesn't think he's ever felt so...happy. In a very long time at least. and then he was drawing you back in, this time with his breath tickling your neck, his lips actually drawing in an almost kiss. "gracias, mi cariño....gracias.”

you had always liked his hugs. maybe they had brought you comfort too. maybe they give you more solace then you think you needed. and as miguel actually began to lift you, placing you on his desk, he found a new position, with your legs widened around his hips, his hands circled around your waist, his head in your neck, and the faint brush of his lips that you could quite possibly call a kiss.

more. this provided you two with more.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[mercurycft]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐋.𝐖

## leah williamson/beth mead x teammate-(ex)reader !! MINIFIC

hi pookies!! i wrote this after watching love actually and I'm still fuming about the whole CD situation iykyk. this is roughly and loosely based on that scene, which is HEARTBREAKINGGGG. this kinda has a cringey ending but my little cringe heart loved it. thank you all for the love recently! i hope you're enjoying all the content. love always - RGx

1.8k words.

emotional. beth being the best best friend. talks of a break up. not proof read.

"you know we dont have to watch it, right?" beth spoke lowly and no louder than a whisper, breaking the silence that had stretched out between you both like a tightrope.

you allowed a small and meaningless smile to crack in the corner of your mouth for a beat as you took a sip of the tea in your hands, eyes still glued to the TV screen. only flicking to beth briefly and for less than a second - as if you were unable to bear the contact. "i know," you admitted. "i want to." you spoke with a fake conviction, leaning forward to lay your mug onto the coffee table.

you watched on in silence, heart hammering in your ears when leah finally came on screen. she looked good, and it pained you to realise. to realise that whilst you're at home, curled up on your sofa, she's out doing brilliant things. you watched as leah sat beside her piano teacher, who you recall fondly after spending many evenings in his company. leah's fingers danced over the piano keys, the camera zooming in to capture the intensity of her practice.

you tried to rid your mind of the hurt for a few minutes, attempting to squash them into microscopic parts of you. you could feel beth's eyes burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn't dare look away for even just a second. scared you would miss something important, or miss her on the screen.

you watched as she prepared for her performance and made her way towards the concert piano, you knew her well enough to tell how nervous she was - breathing uneasy and hands fidgety. the camera followed her every step, until she sat down and found her bearings. as the camera pulled out, you saw the full orchestra behind her, tuning their instruments. you watched on eagerly as the anticipation grew in the room, a storm of nerves brewing in the pit of your stomach.

there was a moment of silence from the tv, before you watched the conductor lift their arms and a chorus of instruments began to play - including leah. as they began to play, it was hard to ignore the hurt bubbling up and into your throat. as her keys fell in perfect unison with the accompanying music, it was like you had been transported back in time.

you can recall it as if it was yesterday - being back in her living room, watching her play it for the first time. she had looked up at you from her spot in front of the keyboard, eyes shy yet hopeful, asking if you liked it. "it's beautiful," you had said, not knowing then that it would become so much more.

leah's eyes remained on the keys as she played, her expression serene. her hair fell around her face like a curtain, obscuring her features slightly. the way it used to fall when you held her close, comforting her after a stressful lesson. it was a stark contrast to the sharpness of her posture now, the determination in her hands as they flew over the piano.

you felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of her talent. the sound of her playing filled the room, swelling like the crescendo of the symphony of your past. you could almost smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin. your chest tightened and your eyes stung with unshed tears. but you didn't look away. you couldn't. because, as much as it hurt to admit, you were bursting with pride.

beth couldn't bring herself to speak, overly aware of the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. instead, she layed a hand gently and slowly onto the leg pressed close to hers. heaving a quiet sigh as she watched you break for the fifteenth time today.

as the final notes echoed through the speakers, you couldn't help but let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. leah's eyes finally lifted and she took in the applause, her face breaking into a smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign. your heart felt like it was in a vice, but you found yourself smiling back at her, even though she couldn't see you.

you felt beth's hand move to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "are you okay?" she asked. you nodded, not trusting your voice.

"yeah," you whispered back, "i'm okay." but you weren't. not really. you were just watching your past play out on live television, painfully reminded of what you could never get back.

the show continued, but you couldn't focus on anything else. the music had left a hollow space inside of you that only leah could fill. you looked at beth, her eyes filled with sympathy and something else. "you know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" she spoke softly.

"what?" you replied, trying to shake off the emotional fog that had enveloped you.

beth squeezed your shoulder again, "everything, i mean. she wasn't herself and she was angry at the world. she shouldn't have taken it out on you." her words stung to hear, but deep down you knew she was right. leah had always been driven, always been passionate about her career. it was one of the many things you loved about her. but seeing her up there, so poised and professional, compared to the person she was not even a month ago when things ended between you, was like watching a stranger.

you nodded, swiping at the tears that had escaped. "i know," you murmured. "but i can't help but feel like i just missed something. like i could've been there." beth didn't respond, she just held your hand, her thumb tracing circles on the back of it, offering silent comfort.

the applause from the audience on the telly grew louder as leah took her bow, her cheeks flushed with excitement. you felt a pang of jealousy, watching her revel in the moment, knowing that she has finally caught up with the feeling she had been chasing.

beth's grip on your hand tightened. "you know you can talk to me, right?" she said. her voice was gentle, like a soft summer breeze, trying to soothe the storm in your chest.

you nodded, "i know," you whispered. "but i don't know what to say. it's just…it's a lot." your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep, shaky breath.

"it's alright to feel this way," beth assured you, her eyes never leaving yours. "you loved her, and she was a part of your life. it's natural to miss her when you see her doing something that makes her seem okay."

you tried to force back the tears that now are fighting for release, held back by nothing more than your waterline. it didn't take long until they began to litter your cheeks. "i miss her," you stammered through a small sob, collapsing into beth's chest as she stoked your back.

"i know." she whispered into your hair, gently rocking the pair of you back and fourth.

"she's still the one,"

[devildomwriter]

Toys In Every Store | Luke x Reader

1K+ words | GN! Reader | Familial/platonic relationship | CW: Absolutely none, I’m not a monster

Christmas tunes played over the speakers on the crowded snowy streets but the sounds of people bustling and cars honking nearly drowned it out.

You held Luke’s hand as you crossed the street, he was happily skipping and humming to himself.

He’d been overjoyed to be able to visit the human world with you and his excitement grew when he learned you’d be exploring the city during the Christmas season. Simeon thought this was a good idea. That way Luke could adjust to how humans celebrated Christmas—extremely commercialized.

Luke paused to point out every nativity scene he saw in the store windows or the lawn of the church in the middle of the city.

He skipped right along with your pace, not really caring to look around too much until he passed by a certain window and his eyes lit up. You felt resistance in your hand and stopped to see Luke glued to the store display.

It reminded you of the scene from Christmas Story. Propped against the back were Nerf guns, teddy bears, and toy soldiers. A train rode through everything with fake steam coming from the top of it.

Luke was far from the only child looking at it but he was certainly the most behaved as the other children flailed to stay longer or whined that they had to have that toy.

Luke gave you a hopeful look and you chuckled, “Wanna check out the store?” You suggested

Luke nodded eagerly, “Can we!?”

You nodded too and he jumped for joy as you waited for people to finish exiting the store so you could both slip in.

Luke let out an audible gasp as he took in his surroundings. You put your ear mits back on to block out the more annoying sounds in the store like screaming kids who didn’t get what they wanted.

Luke looked distressed at the children’s upset and gave them a bright smile which seemed to instantly calm them down. The parent with the upset toddler was so surprised at the sudden change from aggrieved to giggling that she turned right around to see Luke smiling and profusely thanked him.

Luke was embarrassed and hid behind you.

“You’re a good parent,” she told you with a grin. “He’s so well-mannered.”

You and Luke turned red and you mumbled words of thanks as Luke dragged you by the hand to the toy aisle.

You couldn’t wait to tell Simeon that Luke had been mistaken as your child. You couldn’t tell if the blush that stayed on Luke’s cheeks was from embarrassment or happiness. After all, Luke was actually your self-appointed guardian angel. Though he may be young he was often much wiser than you. You had Simeon’s guidance to thank for that.

You watched Luke examine the Brio Trains, Nerf Guns, teddy bears larger than the both of you, pottery sets, and mystery hatchimals.

“What are these?” He asked you holding a hatchimal proudly above his head.

“A stuffed animal,” you explained and he frowned.

“It doesn’t hatch into a real animal?” He asked and you nodded.

“This isn’t the Devildom, magic animals don’t live in the human world.”

“Unicorns do!”

“Wait what?”

Luke did not answer you as he was distracted by the remote-controlled Mario cars that looked similar to the ones in the game he always played with Levi.

“Want it?” You asked him after he held it for a while, the excited glimmer in his eyes not fading.

He gasped and looked at you. “You mean it!? Can I? It’s so expensive though!” He admitted and you realized it was nearly 100 USD and swallowed your words of regret.

You smiled instead and nodded and he cheered, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best ___! An angel!” He exclaimed and you blushed as some parents looked at you, curious.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said quickly hoping he’d calm down.

You reached for a second car and grinned, “you’ll need someone to race against, won’t you?”

Luke cheered even more loudly. “I can’t wait! This is the best day ever! You’re the best ___!”

You shushed him embarrassed as he gave you a big hug. You carried the two cars to the checkout line. The poor cashier was overwhelmed as the lines reminded you of Disney and there were just two of them able to check people out.

When it was finally your turn Luke tried to pay with some of his allowance but you snatched it right back and handed over your card.

Luke pouted at not being allowed to help you when you were already being so generous but he quickly got over it when you handed him his car.

Luke grinned brightly the rest of the day and his allowance instead quickly disappeared into a donation bin guarded by a very grateful Santa.

When you finally returned home to Purgatory Hall Luke immediately showed Solomon, Taphale, and Simeon what you had both gotten and Simeon smiled and thanked you.

“Who are you going to race first?” Raphael asked looking at the cars.

“___! They got them for me after all! I want them to do the honors.”

Solomon chuckled at his cute response. “These are good quality. Let me know if they die quickly or not, I can just enchant them to keep running.”

Raphael gave him a side eye, worried about what such an enchantment would really do as these things easily gained sentience and went off the rails.

Simeon handed everyone food and said the blessing. As you sat there eating an idea popped into your head and you smiled widely enough that the others noticed.

“So, Simeon. Can I take your other kid out shopping too?”

Simeon raised an eyebrow, “pardon? My other kid?”

Solomon snorted so hard a noodle shot out his nose as he immediately realized who you meant.

“Yeah, Raphael.”

Raphael glared at you as Simeon nodded. “Yes. I’ll spare some change for you, I’m sure he’d love a Nerf gun or race car.”

“Ugh, spare me,” Raphael grumbled as Luke laughed.

It was a good end to a great day.

[americaine-noces]

under the bleachers ⋆˚࿔

what starts with one stolen glance across the soccer field turns into a secret-laced spiral of late-night drives, under-the-bleachers kisses, and the kind of love that makes you reckless. in a town that doesn’t understand girls like them, they find freedom in each other—and maybe something like forever. ⟢ a/n : i know that ts is so short but pls bear w ME💜

it’s friday night. the kind that hums with leftover adrenaline—halftime lights fading, the smell of sweat and soft pretzels still hanging in the air. your team lost. not by much, but enough to sting. you still smiled for the pictures, still did your high kicks and pyramids and fake-laughed at locker room jokes.

but now you’re home. in your room. showered and sprawled out across your bed in natalie’s jersey. it’s too big, drowning you in blue and yellow. the number’s faded. it smells like grass and bonfire smoke and her stupid vanilla shampoo. you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, watching the ceiling like it might blink first.

you haven’t heard from her.

you texted her twenty minutes ago:

you: snacks or no snacks? i got chips & that gross blue slushie you like

no reply.

you try again.

you: unless you changed your mind.

still nothing.

you sit up, hug your knees, and curse under your breath. the jersey falls off one shoulder. you don’t fix it.

it’s past eleven when you hear it—the soft clink of a pebble against your window. you freeze. then another. and another.

you slide the window open and look down.

natalie’s there, hoodie half-zipped, cigarette tucked behind her ear. she looks up like she’s been caught red-handed, but doesn’t seem sorry.

“forgot how high up your window is,” she calls up. “my aim sucks.”

you bite back a grin. “you could’ve just used the front door like a normal person.”

“but then i’d have to talk to your dad. no thanks.”

“he’s asleep.”

“even worse.”

you sigh. “get up here.”

she climbs the trellis like she’s done it before—like muscle memory. you step back as she slips into your room, landing with a soft thud. her shoes are muddy. you don’t care.

natalie’s quiet for a second. she takes in your room, your posters, the flicker of a lava lamp in the corner. then her eyes land on you. or maybe the jersey.

“you really wore it,” she says.

you nod. “a deal’s a deal.”

she laughs under her breath, a little breathless. “we lost.”

“still worth it.”

you don’t mean for it to come out so soft. or so honest. but it does.

natalie’s eyes flash like she doesn’t know what to do with that kind of kindness. she walks over, sits on the edge of your bed, and pulls something out of her pocket. a cassette tape, half-labeled in smeared sharpie: van’s mix, vol. 4.

you blink. “you actually brought it.”

she shrugs. “van made me swear on her cat’s life. apparently this one has a song that ‘might make you cry.’”

“great.”

natalie leans forward, pushing it into your old tape deck. the static is immediate—then music. low, fuzzy. acoustic guitar and female vocals. it’s a little off-tune. a little too real. you don’t recognize the song.

you lie back. she does too. your arms brush.

you think of asking her what’s been on her mind. why she didn’t reply. why her eyes look heavier than usual. but then her hand slips into yours, and she squeezes—once, like a question.

you squeeze back. answer.

you fall asleep like that. not tangled. not kissing. just… next to each other. like maybe that’s enough for now.

outside, the town’s quiet. the cicadas are gone. replaced by the soft whir of a neighbor’s sprinkler. inside, natalie dreams of being someone who doesn’t ruin things. and you? you don’t dream at all.

you already have what you wanted.

at least for tonight.

⟢ a/n : edi sorry kung natapakan yung pagka love team niyo!!!!! anyway ill post pt4 soon because i love u guys so much💜 part two ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part three ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part four ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: Bear Hands Shares Eurodance-like "Intrusive Thoughts"

New Video: Bear Hands Shares Eurodance-like "Intrusive Thoughts" @bearhandsband @CantoraRecords @RostrumRecords @grandstandhq

Brooklyn-based dance punks Bear Hands — Dylan Tau (vocals, guitar), Val Loper (bass) and TJ Orscher (drums) — formed back in 2006. They gained early attention with 2010’s “What a Drag,” which led to the trio signing with Cantora Records, who released their full-length debut, that year’s Burning Bush Supper Club. 2014’s sophomore effort Distraction was a critical and commercial success with the…

[hipsdofangirl]

lucky numbers

time/dimension traveler! seungcheol x reader

summary: you work as a gas station attendant and cover your coworker’s night shift.

genre: lowkey crack fic or premise, sci-fi mixed with modern au, kind of deep themes mentioned, angst end, implied fem reader but can be gender neutral, lowercase intended

notes: i forget how some aspects of the lottery works just bear with me—. not proofread as always

wc: 2.9k

you’re not sure if this was worth it. you’ve seen the video games, the movies, the tv shows, and hell even the news; working, by yourself, at your small town’s local gas station is foreshadowing trouble. unfortunately, the only sound besides the late-night radio station is the tv with static crackling your eardrums.

sitting at the counter, you glance at the clock’s hands, seeing only an hour has passed since you started your shift.

you scratch your scalp out of disbelief of your character: a people-pleaser who can only hope the frat guy you exchanged shifts with will follow through when you are in need.

the tv static scratches your ears, your fingers move to cover and rub the flabby lobes as if it will heal them.

you glance around wearily, before bending over, using the crappy metal swivel chair as balance, to pick up a remote that lays under the counter. without looking above, you aim the remote upwards and turn it off, static fizzling into the air.

you let out a sigh of relief for your eardrums and sanity. you set down the remote and angle it back as if it looks like you never touched it. then, you lift your body up to sit on the chair once again, and slouch.

your eyes flicker over the clock, seeing not even 10 minutes have passed since you last checked. you look outside the windows, scanning the pothole infested pavement for any customers or potential perpetrators.

with nothing in site, you swivel off the chair and walk into the workers-only side room, which is also behind the counter.

you sit down at the desk, staring at your reflection on the black screen. with a purse of your lips, you push the button on the side to turn it on. the machine is advertised as being a ‘fast actor’ for its generation, but you pray it can improve. your nails methodically tap the desk in a rhythm as you wait.

you observe the break room, peering into the women’s bathroom. since you were the only one working till morning, you just left it open in case of an emergency.

four separate screens then emerge on the single monitor, positioned for maximum security.

a white light—brighter than the fake LED ones—zaps across the screen.

you raise your brows in confusion; as out of the corner of your eye, you were able to see the store counter. you saw no ‘zapping’.

the machine then goes back to normal—or at least what it looked like when your boss showed you how to use it.

then you hear it: rustling as if a raccoon broke into your trash and words being whispered.

you freeze. how the hell did someone get in without you knowing? it hasn’t been that long since you left the front counter and even if it had the security cameras would have shown it right?

you go to push yourself up when your mind begins playing possible tricks on you: what if it’s not a customer? the noises sound very close to the register. why would they be quiet if their frantic muttering admits they have some level of anger issues? what if it’s a burglar?

slowly, arms frozen in midair as if once you rest onto something everything will collapse, you turn in the chair as much as you can. carefully, and in tune with the fight or flight senses, you stand up, the chair creeks a tiny bit and you pause in a squat stance.

the rustling still persists. you take this as a sign that you are still clear. leaning on the locker, your fingers curl around the handle of a metal bat your boss praises for its good luck it brought him; if only it can bring you luck now.

you tip toe your way to the doorway, slowly peeking out from behind the halfway closed door.

your suspicions were somewhat accurate: someone was and is up at front counter and spitting words at himself. at the same time, his fingers flick through slips of lottery tickets; after a few slips, he runs his thumb under his tongue for a better grip before continuing his search.

your hold on the bat doesn’t drop it but you don’t tighten it either.

instead, you push open the side door with a creek. “what are you doing?”

the man’s eyes widen as he snaps his attention toward you.

you then get a better look at the built man. you squint your eyes at his creamsicle colored hair and weird clothing.

the man goes to open his mouth but you interrupt him. “you know what. whatever ritual you seem fit, i do not judge.”

he closes his mouth, and you notice his eyes narrowed in guilt or distrust. you follow his eyes to your own hand. you look back up at him and walk back towards your chair, bat dragging across the floor; your boss is going to kill you when he finds the scrape marks on the floor and bat, you could only hope this hot stranger might get you first. if you were going to die might as well go out looking all cool.

as you sit, basically in front of him, he man huffs and scans over the available selections’ pictures. his arms tense and you observe the prominent veins in his arms bulge.

immediately going into work mode and therefore relaxing (out of sleep deprivation you don’t quite understand), you use your free hand to point to the options. “lately this brand hasn’t been in the news at all for any jackpot earnings across the state, so if i were you, i would pick this one.”

he grumbles under his breath and waves you off. instead, he goes the brand you wouldn’t pick at all.

you wince at his standoffish-ness and choice. “i don’t know about that brand, sir. that one just had a massive winning so it’s unlikely—“

“17 08 04 30 95,” he interrupts, still scrounging through the stack.

you blink and stare at him. “excuse me?”

“you’re excused.” he smirks and laughs to himself, appearing proud of his comeback.

your chin drops down in bewilderment and in subtle offense. his laughter dies off awkwardly as he glances at your lackluster reaction.

he clears his throat. “sorry.”

you tap your fingers on the edge of the bat’s handle, dipping your head down and finding more appreciation to your decaying shoes. you can’t wait for this jerk-wad to leave.

you can feel his eyes glance over at your form frequently.

he clears his throat again. you don’t give him attention. it’s too late—or well early for this—and his attitude dampened your mood.

he softly talks, “those are the numbers i’m looking for.”

you turn your head so only one of your eyes can watch him.

“lucky numbers or something? that’s a lot of them and i doubt all of them would be there,” you sluggishly replied.

he lets out a sigh and rests his hands on the counter, leaning into your space a bit. “it’s..complicated. i need to buy that one before someone else does.”

you glance at the clock, seemingly no time has moved since you last took note of the hands.

you raise your brow, subconsciously leaning closer to him. you feel your cheeks become warmer—from his breath and the proximity.

your own sigh melts into his. “tomorrow, we are supposed to put out the recent shipment…” his polished brown eyes meet yours with a gaze you can’t understand at the moment. you hesitate, “i can grab out the brand you want and maybe—just maybe it’s there somewhere.”

he whispers, a plea embedded within, “that would be lovely.”

you whisper back, “okay.”

you back up from him to stand up, just processing that during this conversation you began to turn the circular metal through your fingers.

before you can enter the worker’s room, you glance at the ceiling corner, waiting for the blinking red light on the camera to blink in. it never did.

you saunter through the worker’s room with shaking hands. your mind fumbles through what the actual hell just happened.

a hot guy appears in the connivence store at odd hours in the morning and doesn’t seem to be a druggie with those types of clothes—in fact you can’t even imagine where those clothes would have came from. the man is rapidly searching through a specific brand of lottery tickets and only looking certain numbers in a certain order.

you don’t even realize you’re grabbing the box with the latest shipment.

and why are you so willing to help him? out of fear, arousal, drowsiness, or familiarity?

you briskly walk back to him, not noticing a blinking red light perpetually turned on in the women’s bathroom.

you enter the front to see the guy pacing towards the front doors, scanning outside and talking to something on his shoulder.

“here it is.” you toss the box lightly on the counter.

the loud noise causes the man to jump, his arms flexing to protect himself as he makes himself somewhat smaller.

you laugh at the sight: a grown buff man being scared from a loud noise. you glance into the dark tree-line, realizing that he still is a person.

you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding a soft smile. “i’m sorry about that.”

he straightens up and presses his head into his shoulder, saying something you can’t quite distinguish before strolling back over to you.

he runs his fingers through his hair, dissipating the small pout that previously formed.

“a rough night—“ he meets your disheveled gaze, “for both of us it seems.”

you blow air through your nose. “don’t even get me started.”

he laughs, peeks of his gums entering your sight, causing your smile to widen a bit more.

he then gestures towards the taped box. “can you or do you want me to?”

“oh! no, no i got this! i would be buried even further if i let you open this along with getting access to it,” you ramble.

you grab an army knife that rested under the counter and flick it open. the man’s eyes widen in awe as he watches you slice open the tape along its crease.

you flick the blade back into place and set it on the doubter to your side as you peel back the cardboard lid, the man hovering over it as well. holding your breath, the sight of many slips you expected to be there cause you to release it. unknowingly, leading to your head bumping against the man’s.

you both reel back, touching your foreheads in sync as you both apologize.

you then apprehensively look at one another, gesturing to dig their hands in first: he won. rolling your eyes, you fingers stretch to grasp as many lottery tickets as you can. you take the bundle out of the box and set it to the side, gearing up for another pickup as you watch the man’s arms flex once again as he picked up his own stack.

“what were the numbers again?” you ask, ready to help him search.

the man blinks. “you don’t have to help out, i’m just glad you were able to find these for me.”

you wave him off with a laugh. “it benefits me so i can possibly stay at this piece of shit job for longer.”

his eyes gloss over and he purses his lips. “why do you stay here?”

you flick through the slips—not telling him you remember some of the numbers and not wanting to seem like a creep. “i can’t apply to any other job right now. this place doesn’t even cover my rent and i want to walk out here at any moment—“

“but you can’t bring yourself to? scared of the unknown?” he interrupts.

you hum. “maybe,. well i don’t think so.”

his eyes watch over your form as he pauses in his own search. “let me rephrase that. scared of the unknown and possibly leading to being seen as a disappointment?”

you pout your lips. “17 08 04..?”

his eyes still look for continuation of the conversation, but your shut down prompts him to go along by your rules.

“does it have 30 and 95 at the end?” he inquires.

your brows furrow. “oh my god.” you flip the side over to him. “your entourage of lucky numbers actually came up!” you chuckle out of disbelief.

his eyes narrow in light anger. “i don’t have that many lucky numbers.”

you chuckle at his reaction and hand him the slip.

he scans the lottery ticket—front and back. “yep!” he pops the ‘p’.

your shoulders sag in relief. “i—wow i can’t believe they actually came up.”

he hums, still observing the ticket. “i knew it would, you still have the magical touch, (name).”

you laugh at his proclamation before stopping. you don’t wear name badges.

you clear your throat. “so what did you say your name was? since we went through this emotional moment together.”

his arm slowly drops down to the counter. that once expression-ate smile fades into a solemn one.

“se—sebastian,” he answers after a moment, not meeting your gaze.

you know he is lying, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. he slides over the lottery ticket to you.

“write your name and turn it in first thing in the morning, okay?” he asks, that pleading undertone returns.

out of awkwardness of the situation and now wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you can only nod. you bite your lip.

out of spite, something does escape your lips. “can’t put your real name, sebastian?”

he sighs and tilts his head down, not meeting your gaze. “i’m already putting you into so much trouble by being next to you. i can’t let them hurt you even more. just trust me.”

for some reason, your eyelashes feel damp.

you whisper, “i’ll trust you.” you languidly clasp the lottery ticket, waiting for him to reach his hand out and clasp yours. he doesn’t.

he glances around, never looking at you. “sorry about the mess you’ll have to clean up…and i’m sorry. take this money and quit right now.” you wonder if he is crying as he rubs his cheeks with his arm. “that boss of yours is a piece of shit.”

you hug the slip, daring it not to be soaked with your tears.

the camera’s red light blinks on.

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turns out, that ticket was the jackpot winner: a whole 970 million dollars.

you didn’t think much when you turned it in. hell, you didn’t think much when you grabbed all your things and left the gas station in the middle of your shift. your boss called many times, berating you for leaving and threatening to ruin your life.

somehow, a few days later, the scheme of him installing and spying on the girls in their bathroom was revealed. when you watched the news segment on it—on the brand new tv you bought—it appeared to have been hidden in a spot you don’t even recognize; only someone who knew this was going to happen could have figured it out (obviously..).

you think back to that man every now and then. eventually, you believe you conjured him up and that the whole scenario was a dream or premonition; that theory doesn’t go far as you did win the lottery against all odds.

this reminds you of when you were retelling this dream to your friend, they brought up how you might have found a time or dimension traveler; since, according to them, lotteries are just a scheme to expose them.

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“yah..that was really risky coupsie,” jeonghan mumbles under his jacket, covering his mouth to shield him from the cold.

scoups—or rather sebastian or seungcheol—kicks a pebble for some form of control.

“you told me that we didn’t need to let that lottery ticket fall into that asshole’s hands, and i didn’t,” seungcheol retorts.

jeonghan sighs, a puff of air flowing through the fabric. “yes, that was the mission. but you just had to see your partner—or well this universe’s version of them.”

seungcheol scoffs. “like you weren’t the one that redirected the shipment to their workplace.”

jeonghan giggles with a smirk, face molding into his chest as far as it can. “that wasn’t me. that was shuji—“

“don’t bring me into this.” joshua walks past the open doorway where the other oldest are conversing.

jeonghan clicks his tongue.

the second oldest now directs his attention to his friend. “well now you are their dream man, maybe when this universe’s version of you runs into them, something of recognition will spark.”

seungcheol looks away. “yeah recognition of fear and anger.” he rubs his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “ahh, i can’t even think of this universe’s-me getting his shit beat out of him for something i did.”

jeonghan points out, “they never seem to have a mean bone in their body.”

seungcheol laughs. “this one does—i can tell when they hide it. it’s always the same habit of fiddling with something. i thought they were gonna snap when they brought out the baseball bat.”

jeonghan laughs and claps his sweater paws. “that was hilarious! i’ve never seen hoshi turn that pale when he tuned in when a loud slam reverberated through his ear piece!”

seungcheol cannot hide his proud smirk. “someone needed to give them a push—even if my life is at stake.”

the two travelers laugh together.

jeonghan’s smile softens toward his friend.

seungcheol continues, “if i can make this one’s life a little easier, i’ll do anything.”

a/n: remembered the whole tumblr post about the conspiracy about lotteries being traps for time travelers and had to write something. also mainly for @jcxbliss cause how they have been having a rough time at work.

also another scoups fic returns after i reached 2.5k likes?!??

as sad yet hopeful as the ending sounds, i hope this did make you feel better or cathartically worse. i did write this in two hours LOLOL

anyways have a good day/night! 🫶🫶

[the-kr8tor]

Y’know that one scene in 10 Things I Hate About You where Heath Ledger serenades the main girl with a love song at the football stadium, only to be chased by security guards?

May I request Hobie doing the same thing for a spider!R at the Spider Society as a surprise Christmas present? 💀🥹

- 😅 (don’t worry about writing this if you have a lot of requests, take your time ❤️)

I had to google the scene and it was so adorable what?! I need to watch this movie! Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, spider-woman! Reader, spider trio appearance, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You huff, heart beating wildly in your chest just as when the fighting simulation ends with you standing victoriously. Wheezing, but still the victor of the fight against a Mysterio ai. The said hologram fades, pained groans turning into a digital whirr of pixels until the orange glow is gone from its prone position on the cold tiles.

Hands on your knees, sweat dribbles off your brows, making you take off the sticky and uncomfortable mask off your face. Hobie and the others were supposed to train with you today, hence why you almost got beaten into a pulp by a fake Mysterio because you cranked the level up a notch on the difficulty. You're patting yourself on the back for even surviving it that long.

Looking around, you gather your bearings, finding the training grounds void of your friends and partner. Your nose scrunches up, still heaving in place.

“Where in the world are they?” You scratch your head, stretching your throbbing wrists and walking towards the water cooler to grab a cup. They can't be out on a mission without you, right?

The door hisses open, hope blossoms in your chest but when you see a different group of spiders stride in, your smile wavers. Huffing, you gulp down your drink, already feeling better now that you're hydrated.

The group waves to you all friendly, beckoning you to join them. They probably saw you alone in the big training room and felt bad. With a polite smile, you jog towards them.

“Hey!” They say in chorus. There's a couple of Peters in their group, together with a spider-rabbit chirping to you in greeting, a spider-woman with horns protruding from her mask, and a robotic spider-man with one eye.

“Hi,” you smile, wiping away the sweat off your forehead as best as you can. “Have you seen Hobie?”

“Spike or no spike Hobie?” A Peter asks.

“Spiky Hobie— Wait, all Hobies are spiky.” You shake your head. “With a Gwen probably tagging along with him? Maybe with Miles and Pavitr?” You reply, and they shake their head, earning a disappointed groan from you. “Thanks, they're probably in the cafeteria—”

The speakers suddenly squeak awake, the sound of someone tapping on the mic echoes throughout the entire society. Knowing Miguel, it's bad news.

Gulping, fists closing, you wait for his gruff voice to announce the said news. But the sound of the ever familiar voice echoes out. You blink in surprise, fists unfurling and smile slowly curling around the corner of your lips.

“This is for my girl. Saw you beat the shit out of that mysterio, love, felt bloody inspired after that knockout.” With a chuckle, Hobie sings, belting out a tune.

“Found him!” The Peter next to you chuckles, “man, he's not very good at that huh?”

You shake your head with a smile whilst he continues to sing a pop love song that you didn't even know he knew existed. You're probably rubbing off on him.

“No, he's brilliant at it.” With a nudge at Peter, You bolt off outside the training grounds and into the expansive hallways that's always filled to the brim with fellow spider people.

Grinning from ear to ear, you find that everyone else has paused in place to listen in on Hobie singing in the PA system. They stare at you, knowing that the ‘you’ he's singing about is standing right in the middle of the crowd.

“Always the showstopper, Hobie.” You whisper to yourself, hearing the singing get louder.

The crowd parts, and you tilt your head at the approaching figure swinging towards you. You gotta hand it to him, he's keeping the song's pitch right even when he's swinging.

Biting your lip to stop a giggle from escaping, you watch him gracefully drop down on the same hallway as you. He saunters towards you, boots thumping softly against the floors. His hair is windswept, probably from swinging away from a particular spider from 2099.

Hobie stops a few steps away from you, mask tucked in his pocket, pointing at you whilst he stares at you lovingly as if you're the only person in the crowd of spider suits.

“...you.” He sings, winking at you. You wink back, flusteredness hiding underneath your flirty wink.

Music suddenly plays from within the crowd, then a few spider people make way for the marching band that is composed of Gwen playing a drum, Miles on the xylophone, and Pavitr, who's lugging around a boombox playing the actual music. They're led by Lyla in front who's twirling around a baton. Wait, Lyla?

“What's happening?!” You laugh, shock written on your face.

The crowd start to clap to the iconic song, some even join in on the impromptu marching band, forming some sort of conga line around you.

“It's your gift!” Pav excitedly says, carrying the boombox over his head whilst dancing to the beat. “I don't know this song!” He laughs, inviting in more people to join in on the dancing.

Hobie shrugs, smiling and continuing to sing his heart out. He slowly makes his way towards you, making a full show of his love for you. Hips wiggling, shoulders rolling, and foot stomping to the beat, he dances as he makes his way to you. His attention is on you and only you.

Opening your arms to receive him, you stop when you see Miguel's figure quickly swinging his way towards the commotion. Your eyes widen, pointing at him.

“Watch out, the fun police is here!” You warn Hobie, chuckling as he swings away just in time before Miguel could land on him.

“Hobie!” The disheveled Miguel yells, pushing himself off the floor to chase after him. “Give me back the mic! It's for important announcements only!”

Most of the spider people cheer for Hobie as he dodges Miguel and his claws. Hobie backflips away, hops over spider-cat, swings over everyone's heads and Miguel still can't catch him. All the while he never missed a lyric or a beat.

Scarlet Spider suddenly appears from the sidelines, exaggeratedly swinging his way to help Miguel. “I'm here to help!”

With a subtle aim at the guy's foot, you web him up, pulling him down to meet with the cold hard ground. “Whoops.” You feign innocence, ignoring Ben's groans, and listening intently to Hobie's singing while looking out for him.

The song is just about to end with Hobie swinging his way towards you. Understanding his plan, you open your arms for him. He lifts you off your feet, snatching you away from the scene.

“Hi.” You hold onto him as he grins at you, still holding onto the microphone. “I'm guessing this was the surprise you told me about earlier?” He smirks at you in reply. Miguel's frustrated groans follow you with Hobie still managing to escape his grasps.

Hobie ends the song with a flourish, eyes shining brightly as he belts out the last lyric. You see the flicker of the portal's glow right behind you. Your escape route.

“Surprise number one, love.” Your mouth opens in absolute happiness, hands holding onto him tighter. He nudges your nose lovingly, lips brushing along your cheek. “One out of five.” He tilts his head, dodging Miguel's hand last minute. The sound of your giggling irks Miguel as he lunges at the two of you but fails at grabbing him from your grasp.

Leaning closer, you look over his shoulder to aim at Miguel. You web Miguel's hands together, causing him to fall backwards, staggering before ripping off the webs and immediately swings back into action.

You ignore his yelling. “Good thing I've also got a surprise for you planned for later.” You whisper against the shell of his ear, sending goosebumps to appear on his neck, making you blow on his skin just to tease him. “But we have to go home first.”

Hobie glances at you, eyes flirting back as he beams at you. “I think I know what it is.”

“You do, huh—?”

“Hurry, Hobie! Stop flirting, man!” Miles yells behind you before jumping inside the whirring portal.

“Happy Christmas, love.” With a kiss on your cheek, he tosses the mic behind him. The mic hits Miguel’s face directly, the high pitched sound reverberating around the society. He falls on his back, cradling his throbbing forehead, preventing him from following after you.

Cupping Hobie's cheek tenderly, you peck the corner of his lips with the promise of a proper one later as he escapes into the portal with you.

[vnards]

Bear!Price pt 6

Price made light conversation during the ride to his place. He tries to ignore that itch under his skin to touch you. But he keeps things polite. He’s stays gentle with you.

He pulls up to his den house and turns off the car. He hoped you like the place. We’ll change whatever you want. Price tried to breathe through his nose and keep his focus. He counted to three before he got out the car.

“I like your place.”

John put his hands in his pockets to distract himself from rumbling happily, “I’ve been fixing it up a bit since I’ve moved up here.”

You looked back at him and smiled, “It’s nice.” Price was fucked.

“We should start our lesson.” He saw you beginning to stretch and get your hair out of your face. He could of swore you were doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t call you out on it. So he tried to look as politely as possible.

John walked to the porch of the house and took his jacket off. He felt eyes on his back and he tried not to preen under your attention like he did a few days ago. But this time was different. This time his purpose is to teach you to fight. Just in case.

“First things first,” He walked back over to you, rolling up his sleeves, “If anything happens where you feel unsafe, you call me.”

Your forehead creased, “Call you?”

He gives a firm nod, “Absolutely.” You must have saw how serious he was about this; about your safety. You showed you understood, your playful manner dropped for the moment. “If you ever feeling in trouble, I’ll take care of you.” That was more of a promise than he could ever mean.

There was a moment between you, a silent acceptance.

Price smiled, content and pleased. You followed suit. “Now,” He changes the subject and steps back, preparing his stance, “Show me what you got.” He teased.

Your smile turned devilish and a spark of adrenaline shot through Price unexpectedly. His vision became focused and fully on you.

You ready your own stance, much different than his, but he’ll correct that later. He spots your hand, noting the way you are about to throw that punch, uneven and unsteady. You swing and he feigns easily. “You gotta try better than that, sweetheart.”

Your smile becomes devilish as you try again. This time, your punch was faster, held more weight behind it. “Good girl. Again” He doesn’t think as he praises you, but your cheeks still tinge with color.

The next time you throw a punch, you connect it with a combo. If Price hadn’t ducked, you may have landed your strike. I smile in triumph as you notice his delightful surprise.

“My girl’s got some bite to her, huh?” Price taunts, dropping his guard for you. “Give me what you got.”

You accept the challenge with stride, going for a left fake-out combined with a low right, aiming for the body. She knows how to attack. Price’s breathing gets heavier the more you force him to dodge. He can’t deny the burst of energy that burns through him. He notices his senses becoming clear and in-tuned to you. A quick glance down to his knuckles, lets him know he still has his usual fingers, furless. Good.

You take advantage of his distraction, almost catching him off guard as you go for a body shot. You were fast. Price was faster. He was able to grab your wrists and bring you closer, pinning your hands to his chest. You smelled so much better up close. “Cheeky, I see.”

You shrug as you tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m a fast learner.”

Price tries to keep his cool and lets go of you, letting you step away and reset. The space between you both lets him breathe fresh air for a second before you notice how you’ve affected him. “The one thing you’ll learn from me is to fix your stance.” When you look down, Price pushes your shoulder and you stumble. “Your center of gravity is off.” He places his hand on your side to keep you upright. “If you’re gonna attack you need to know your defense is strong.”

You nod, giving him your full attention. Those eyes had him trapped. But, he stepped back, trying to remember this lesson is for you, not him. He almost could see you deflate before he continued, “Get back in your stance.” You do as instructed.

John takes in your stance again, this time beginning to circle to evaluate. You feel like you’re on display, a predator sizing up their prey. Price notices the shift, “You can relax, deer.” And you listen beautifully.

Price is pleased when you become more confident in your stance. “Good girl.”

next part -> <-previous part masterlist ->

[writer-shipper-ffreader]

Maybe not so useless after all?

(Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x f!Reader)

Chapter 5

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The idea of dinner in Kate's office originally came to me as a one-shot, but I thought it fit quite well here. I based Kate living in the nicer area of Tower Hamlets. After the stress of working all day, I could see her liking the 30-40 minute walk home - especially in summer.

Warnings/Tags: Slow burn, soulmate AU (sort of), yearning, I just want to bang their heads together

Words: 2,167

Summary: After a mysterious mishap with a device found in a field, can you find out what the device is and what it means for you and Kate?

You kept to your word and turned up to her office the next evening with a bag of Chinese takeaway in hand. You’d worked late on missions enough in the past to remember what she liked and knew her calendar well enough to know her last meeting ended at 6.30 pm. You had given her an hour to settle after her meeting, knowing the person she video-conferenced with often rubbed her up the wrong way as well as added to her paperwork.

Her door was open, letting you know she was interruptible. You lightly tapped on the door, before moving into the room, takeaway outstretched in front of you. “I come bearing dinner ma’am,” you said, a posh intonation added to your voice.

“You really didn’t need to buy me dinner,” Kate replied, her lips twitching into that rare smile that was becoming much more well known to you.

“Nonsense, I wanted to.” You waved her off. “Here or the breakroom?” you asked.

“Here’s good. You unpack – I’ll go grab us some plates. Cutlery?” She stood from her desk and ushered you over to the sofa.

“There’s chopsticks but you may want a fork.” You grinned up at the blonde, wiggling an eyebrow as you recalled the last time she tried to eat egg fried rice with chopsticks.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, but she maintained that it wasn’t her fault, and that Carter scared her. You smiled at her protests, holding your hands up, feigning innocence. She rolled her eyes and playfully punched your arm as she walked past to head down the corridor.

The containers of food had been placed on the coffee table, empty bag shoved in the bin under her desk. The quiet humming gave away her return, the soft tune drifting down the corridor. You were glad her mood had uplifted; an earlier bureaucratic meeting having put her on the borderline to grumpy. Osgood had mentioned that those in the control room had been walking on eggshells by early afternoon. You hadn’t noticed anything when she came to the lab, but there was no doubt she was fine now.

She entered the office, carrying the expected two plates and cutlery. You furrowed your brows as you noticed the wine glasses in her other hand. Kate ignored your questioning gaze, setting a plate in front of you and then plonking the rest of the items on the table. You watched her go to a side cabinet and pull out a bottle of white wine from an integrated mini fridge you had no idea was hiding there.

“You bring dinner, I bring the wine? It’s Riesling.” She chuckled at your shocked expression, following your gaze to the mini fridge. “Ah, yes, that’s a secret. Only I, and now you, know it is there,” she whispered, winking at you.

You could feel the blush rising up your neck, the wink affecting you more than it should. Knowing you needed to deflect quickly, you shifted the focus back onto Kate. “Should I be worried about the amount of hidden alcohol you have in your office? I know about the whiskey in your bottom desk drawer,” you asked with mock seriousness.

A loud bark of laughter left her lips, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth, as though it left her unexpectedly. Your smile widened as her real honking laugh continued, rather than the demure fake one she usually used in the office. Your chest tightened as you realised you were falling a little bit more in love with her in that moment. You tried to focus on this raw unfiltered Kate, rather than your spiralling thoughts. She dropped down to sit next to you, her laugh finally subsiding.

“Sorry! I just thought if you’re worried about me, then you’d be horrified with the amount my father used to have,” she gasped out, a small chuckle leaving her lips again. “You’ve no need to be worried, especially not about the untouched whiskey my father gifted me. He always used to keep at least three bottles of scotch hidden in his office, it’s there more for memories sake.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about the rather chaotic nights your father had in his office. Surprisingly from both the Doctor and Osgood,” you told her, starting to dish up the food onto both your plates as she poured the wine. “How does Osgood know so much about the Doctor and your father?”

“Her uncle used to work for my dad. He’d tell her stories when she was younger. Then when she came to work here, she made sure to read every case report she could get her hands on. She absorbs knowledge like a sponge,” Kate explained.

You nodded and commented that it was often incredibly useful that she knew so much. Kate agreed, recounting a story between mouthfuls of the time Osgood identified a species from the seventies from what her uncle had described to her. The now lead scientist, but junior at the time, had held back on telling Kate what the alien was, because she thought her uncle had made it up. It turned out that the alien was really as absurd as her uncle had described.

The quiet conversation continued until well after you had finished eating. You were both perched on the sofa, leaning against the arm rests to face each other as you chatted. The wine bottle was empty, Kate having just topped up your glasses, when you heard Big Ben chime in the comfortable lull of silence.

The bell signified it was already 10 pm. Confusion coursed through you as you checked your phone, not convinced you had been with Kate for two and a half hours. The screen confirmed the time, and you looked towards Kate guiltily.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to stay so late. You probably wanted to be home by now,” you apologised, untucking your legs from under you and making to stand.

A hand landed on your arm, stopping you from rising. “Don’t be silly. Relax and finish your wine,” Kate murmured, having unconsciously shifted closer to you in her attempt to stop you leaving.

“Are you sure?” you asked. Her face was a lot closer to yours than you had expected, you quickly turned away, gaze flickering to her hand on you as you had to stop yourself from leaning into her.

She reluctantly pulled away from you, thinking you were uncomfortable with the closeness. The only evidence of her hand having been on your arm was the warm sensation left behind. Kate confirmed that she wanted you to stay and finish the wine, her eyes assessing how you had responded to her. She didn’t miss the reddening of your neck and cheeks, but the way you had frozen threw her off. She had hoped she hadn’t made things uncomfortable between you.

Breaking the tension, you asked about her gardenias. She had complained a few weeks ago that the plants hadn’t bloomed yet, even though the temperature should be warm enough now. You smiled and tilted back towards her as she went on a passionate rant about the plant. You listened attentively, asking questions as they came to you.

It had been a long time since anyone had asked Kate about her gardening. Even longer since someone had enough scientific understanding to allow her to use her knowledge of botany or for them to ask more in depth questions.  

Kate knew she was rambling to you, but her doubts were eased as you looked like you were interested in what she was saying. She would usually be self-conscious about going off on a tangent like this – too many people in the past making her feel like what she was passionate about wasn’t interesting. You, however, weren’t interested because it was work related or because you were indulging her; you actually cared about what she had to say.

The conversation tapered off as you finished the wine, both of you aware that you should be heading out. You stood, gathering the empty containers and placing them in the bin. Kate followed your lead, collecting the leftovers and placing them in the mini fridge.

“At least you never have to worry about someone taking your lunch,” you teased, as she closed the fridge.

“Definitely a perk, if I remember it is in there.” Kate chuckled as she moved behind her desk and wrote herself a note. She held the sticky note up to you, with a grin. “I hopefully won’t forget this time.”

You laughed, shaking your head at her. “Barring emergencies, you should be fine.”

“Mhmm. Anyway, we should get out of here,” she said, shutting down her work computer. “Walk you home?”

“You really don’t need to,” you replied, trying to hide your shock that she’d even suggest it.

“Your building is on my way, it’s no problem. Do you need to grab your things?” Kate easily squashed your protest, even if you doubted she was telling the truth about being on her way.

Confirming you needed to collect your belongings from your lab, you agreed to meet her at the exit downstairs. You didn’t miss her tuck her work tablet in her bag just as you were leaving the office, but you chose not to comment on it. The fact that she was leaving the building before midnight was progress.

You had quickly shucked on your coat and grabbed your bag from behind your desk, not wanting to take too long to meet Kate down in reception. She smiled at you as you approached but continued to listen to the security guard as he made small talk. The tall man glanced towards you, noticing Kate’s attention drifting elsewhere. He greeted you kindly, but didn’t hide his surprise well. He was likely not used to seeing anyone else leave as late – that or he was surprised Kate wasn’t leaving alone. You could already hear the rumours that would be spreading like wildfire tomorrow.

The pair of you bid your goodbyes to the security guard and headed out into the humid night. Summer hadn’t quite peaked, but it had warmed considerably in the last few weeks. You were grateful for the cool breeze as you headed deeper into the borough of Tower Hamlets.

You quietly chattered along the way, both unconsciously avoiding work topics. You were in the middle of discussing favourite films, when you realised that this felt like the end of a date. You were grateful for the darkened sky that hid your rapidly burning cheeks. You tried you best to focus on the plot she was describing, but it felt like a losing battle. If Kate had noticed you being lost in your mind for a few minutes, she hadn’t commented.

Having shaken yourself out of your thoughts, you’d managed to reengage in the conversation. You had surprisingly similar tastes in films. A little voice in your head piped up, highlighting it as further proof for Kate being your soulmate. Ignoring the unhelpful thought, you asked if there was anything in the cinema she was hoping to see.

It wasn’t until you reached your building that things became a bit awkward between you. You were both clearly holding back, not wanting to let slip your true feelings. You cleared your throat, mumbling that it was nice to have not eaten alone as you looked through your bag for your keys. You heard the blonde agree, but something was off with her tone, making you look up at her.

Kate was internally battling whether she could reach out to you. She felt closer to you, that ever present ‘click’ drawing her to you and making her want to move physically closer. She wanted to reach out and hug you, like she’d done many times before, but she remembered how you’d reacted earlier.

You watched her closely, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. It seemed you were both thoughtful tonight, unknowingly questioning the same things. Seeing the look of hesitation cross her face, you shuffled closer to her, placing your hand on her arm.  You sent her a reassuring smile as her eyes met yours. She returned the smile, moving even closer and pulling you into a hug. You could only hope she didn’t notice your breath hitch before you returned the hold.

The hug lingered a little too long, but you were both smiling as you pulled back. “We should do this again sometime,” Kate murmured.

“Sounds good. Especially if it stops you working late,” you responded with a cheeky smile, earning a roll of the eyes.

Bidding each other a goodnight, you watched Kate walk down the road as you stood at the door to your apartment building. You sent her a small wave when she turned to check if you’d gone inside. Once she was out of sight you headed up to your apartment, ready to spend the next few hours with your mind looping over everything that had happened tonight.

Tags: @freshmoneyalmondathlete @suckerforcate

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I think we're beautiful

Closeted egg stanford era transfem!Dean/Cassie ft. the strap anyone? Anyone? Anybody?

Read the opening under the cut:

It’s one of those long golden summer evenings, the sun making love to the horizon for hours and kissing over Cassie and Dean where they’re laid out on her bed. Dean’s been “rambling on” about his favorite album, Led Zeppelin II, and Cassie is tuned in to the sound of his voice than the words themselves. She likes Dean. She likes him a lot. It’s been kind of freaking her out lately, that they’ve gotten so close so quickly. She’s thought about pumping the brakes a few times, taking a day or two without seeing each other, but then he comes over, and he’s so softly happy to see her that she couldn’t bear telling him to go. 

And Dean is soft. He’s sweet. She’s seen him put up the machismo act, and she’s made it known she won’t stand for it when it’s just them together, and he rolled over on it pretty quick - and from how they argue sometimes, that’s notable. It’s like he was waiting for an excuse. He’s talked a bit about his dad, and a lot about his brother, and Cassie’s pretty sure he doesn’t get too many excuses. Call it journalistic intuition. He’s been lonely for a long time. So has she. 

There’s not many chances to meet new people in Cape Girardeau, outside of college students, and there’s only so many times Cassie can pretend to be interested in someone’s major. Dean’s been everywhere, seen everything, road tripping with his dad, and while Cassie has no desire to join the Kerouacs of the world, she likes how Dean talks about it. When Dean talks about a place, he talks about the people. He hasn’t bothered with the Grand Canyon, or the Hollywood Sign, or the Hoover Dam, but he can tell you the best burger joint on any given stretch of highway without pause for thought, and which the middle aged waitress gave him an extra set of fries to-go because he reminded her of an old flame. 

She wonders how Dean’s going to talk about her when they break up, and she doesn’t like the thought, so she reaches for a distraction.

She kisses him mid-word, and he flusters from it, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“What was that for?”

“You’re cute.”

“I’m not-”

“If you say you’re ‘not cute, you’re handsome’ again, I’m kicking you in the shins. Take a compliment.”

Dean holds his hands up and rolls his eyes, but Cassie can see his shy smile, so she takes it up a notch. She kicks a leg over him, and traces his features as she narrates: “Cute cheeks, cute nose, cute eye-bags.”

Dean snorts. “Who has cute eyebags?”

“You do,” Cassie counters, because she can roll her eyes too, “Now shut up, I’m talking. Cute ears. Beautiful mouth.”

She traces it slowly with her thumb, and presses in when Dean lets it hang open. His eyes go glassy, and Cassie wonders how he’d look sucking on her strap. He looks like he’s going through a religious experience when she lets him eat her out after all, and he doesn’t always look for a return on the favor. Will he get weird about it, if she asks? If they were in front of someone, almost certainly, but they’re not in front of anyone. They’re just Cassie-and-Dean. 

“Dean,” she says, and his eyelashes flutter to refocus on her, “If I show you something, can you promise not to get weird about it? It’s a little…out there.”

She presses her thumb down on his tongue for a moment longer, anxious of the answer, but when she lets him go, he says, “Promise,” immediately, then adds as she goes to her bottom drawer, “I’ve seen plenty ‘out there’.”

“Yeah, well,” Cassie says, now kind of wanting to shock him, “You seen this?”

She holds up her harness, and the accompanying deep red dildo, long, with a few fake veins running up the sides. She sticks her chin up, pretending her heart isn’t hammering in her chest from nerves. Dean’s eyes have gone huge, doing a double-take from the dildo to her face and back again. He takes a deep breath, then points at it decisively.

“You are not putting that thing up my ass.”

Cassie scoffs, glad for the diffusion of tension. “I wasn’t offering it up your ass!” She takes it to the bed, and the way Dean can’t stop staring at it with trepidation is a little funny, a little hot. “I was thinking, maybe you lick it a few times.”

[continue on Ao3]