#I rest my case. beans.

[candycryptids]

Sometimes you just gotta. Shut somebody up because he’s been doing nothing but spouting nonsense that’s been getting under your fur all day!!!!

And it made Sadu laugh so hard her stomach kinda hurts… so…

This isn’t canon to anything I just thought it would be funny to suplex Magnai (I was right btw) [Also, Tangy the Hrothgar uses She/Her pronouns mwah mwah thank you 💖] *oh also shader is Arkana Summer with the intense reflections (I think that’s what it’s called) ticked on in gpose settings*

[mewklu]

elliot maids for maid day !! 🫶

[mysterious-corpse]

so fucking upset. i looked up what's considered concerning weight loss and got a statistic. i looked up the same question but specified teens and i got a bunch of articles about how to lose weight. what the fuck

[comradecowplant]

I don't follow blogs ran by people being racist about rap so I'm only witnessing the secondhand responses to the recent "discourse" and sadly 'tumblrinas being racist about their bad taste in music & low lyrical literacy' is exactly what I'd put on my 2024 bingo card for this steadily declining shithole....

[mariasont]

hi hiiiiii!!! could you do a hotch x bau reader where there’s an age difference between them like she’s in her 20’s and she has a crush on him and thinks it’s stupid and the team tease her about it but apparently he has a crush on her too? thank youuuu i love your work so much

Stupid Crush - A.H

a/n: your wish is my command, thank you so much for requesting i hope you love it <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: idiots crushing on each other, age gap (20s and 40s), garcia spilling the beans about reader's crush (not cool penelope!)

wc: 1.4k

Your tennis shoes were scuffing into the padded floor, hands resting on your hips while your bottom lip bore the brunt of your anxious chewing. You were here to train, led by your favorite boss.

But your concentration was slipping, stolen by the sight of that same boss, Aaron Hotchner, who managed to make even the simplest training gear look exceptionally good.

You were trying to be discreet, but with your track record, you were sure that wasn't the case. As the youngest member of the team, you'd grown accustomed to the good-natured teasing--a sort of rite of passage, really. But the teasing took on a new intensity whenever it involved your poorly concealed crush on Hotch.

The whole team knew, and they would never let you forget that they knew, constantly reminding you of the way you laughed a little too hard at his dad jokes, how you were the first to agree with his plans, and how you were always finding an excuse to stay late and help him with paperwork.

And to your absolute horror, their teasing was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Morgan winking at you when Hotch compliments your work, Prentiss sending you mortifying texts anytime he was near, and Garcia had taken to called you Mrs. Hotchner when in private.

You blinked--once, twice--as you attempted to refocus your attention to where Hotch's mouth was moving, explaining something about a wrist release move, meant to disarm a larger attacker from behind--a lesson you definitely should be absorbing. Instead, it took the unexpected call of your name from his direction to snap you out of your daze.

He was motioning you to the front. Your brows leapt upwards, and you looked around, hoping for an out of some sort. Bu the knowing looks and suppressed chuckles of your teammates made it clear--they wouldn't dream of intervening, not when they were about to be so thoroughly amused.

You let out a small, defeated sigh as you allowed your legs to carry you forward, all the while ignoring the team's exchange of looks as if they could just sense how flustered you were sure to get.

"How do you want me?"

You resisted the urge to slap a hand over your mouth as soon as you said it, the room filled with muffled snickers. Hotch didn't bat an eye, all but manhandling you, turning you to face the wall with him at your back.

"Now, when the unsub grabs you from behind, like this," he says, his arm a firm band across your chest in a way that made you have to remember how to breathe. "Your first instinct is to panic. But you need to stay calm and think about your next move."

"That might be kind of hard for her." The comment, possibly from JJ, washed over you, igniting a wave of heat that spread like wildfire across your skin.

"The key here is to use the unsub's grip against them. You're going to twist your wrist towards their thumb. The thumb is the weakest part of their grip. So you'll rotate like this," he guides your hand, "and pull down sharply."

You followed his instructions, doing your utmost to overlook just how close he was to you and the way it was sending your senses into a tailspin, especially as his voice seemed to echo intimately in your ear. 

"Now, as you're doing that, you want to step to the side, out of their immediate reach. This will give you the space to turn and face the threat. Then, with your free hand, you deliver a strike to the unsub's face or neck to incapacitate them."

As he stepped back, air filled your lungs once more. You managed to move independently, but you kept your chin dipped low, hiding your face, terrified by the thought of him noticing the fluster all over your face.

"Let's try that again, but this time, I want you to do it without my guidance," he instructed. His voice was clear, but your attention had drifted to the curve of his cheek, the focus in his eyes. "Remember, swift and precise movements. And don't forget to breathe."

Another round of giggles. You were going to hide all of their favorite mugs later.

You returned to the starting position, fitting snugly against him. This time, his hand on your hip brushed against bare skin, eliciting an instinctive twitch and a giggle from your lips.

"You okay?"

You pressed you lips together, silently thanking the gods as his hand found a new home on your shoulder. A mute nod was all you could muster, not trusting your own words as you repeated his instructions, ignoring the searing heat that seemed to engulf your body.

"Good. That's exactly what you need to do." Your nose and ears were burning. "It's not about strength; it's about leverage." He pressed a hand to your back as he faced the rest of the team. "Alright, take five."

After the demonstration, you and Garcia were huddled by the water cooler, taking a generous sip as if that would somehow cool down your insides.

Garcia leaned in, pushing her glasses up her nose, and murmured, "You know, if you keep acting like that, Hotch is going to figure out that you're not just for his profiling skills."

You sputtered, water dribbling down your chin as you tried to form a denial, but what emerged was nothing short of babble, and you were acutely aware that your expression was likely revealing everything you wished to hide.

A throat cleared behind you, and you felt a chill run through you, your hand automatically setting the cup down. Garcia's eyes turned to saucers, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was--your body's instinctive response to his nearness said it all.

"Could I see you in my office?"

You whipped around, thumb jabbing into your chest as your gaze collided with his. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

Your heart seemed to sink, but still, you obediently followed him, like a puppy. Morgan's elbow connected with your side as you walked by, mouthing a good luck.

Alright, new plan, you weren't just going to hide Morgan's favorite mug, you were going to throw it out the window.

You trailed Hotch into his office, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, your heart pounding as he closed the door with a click--never a good sign.

"I'm really sorry, sir. Garcia's just, you know, she's probably drunk, and I don't have—well, you're definitely hot, obviously, I mean, not obviously, but I didn't mean—,"

Hotch cut you short with the raise of his hand, moving so he was sitting in his chair behind the desk. "What are you talking about?"

"Garcia's comment, about me having a crush on you," you admit, and then your mouth forms the perfect o of realization. "Unless you didn't hear that, and I just outed myself for no reason?"

His brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You have a—,"

"Right, so you didn't hear that. Forget I said anything. I'm sure there's something I need to do... somewhere else, so I'll just—,"

You were scrambling out of your chair, silently pleasing for the floor to open up, but you didn't get far, a hand wrapping around your wrist, keeping you firmly in place.

"Hold on a second."

"Please, Hotch. I've humiliated myself enough, don't you think? If you have any respect for me still, let me leave with at least some of my dignity intact."

You were already mentally mapping out your options: transferring, resigning, even fleeing the country. A different name, a new passport--Garcia could probably help with that.

"I hold you in a higher regard than just respect." Each word was diminishing the space between you.

Maybe you could go to Puerto Rico? That's still technically U.S. territory. Or maybe Mexico, though, given Reid's history, it's probably best to steer clear.

"Well, that's good, I guess."

He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up. "I'm not good at this."

"Good at what?"

"Asking pretty women on dates."

"Who are you asking on a date?"

"Christ." He exhaled sharply before leaning forward, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips. 

When he pulled away, you blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, am the pretty woman you're trying to ask out?"

"Is that a yes?"

You couldn't help the wide smile that spread across your face. "That's sooooo a yes."

You looped your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. This time, it was deeper. You decided that you could kiss him forever, and it would still be your favorite pastime.

Maybe it wasn't such a stupid crush.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253

[shalomniscient]

“feixiao, this is… a lot.”

you blink down at the very generous spread of mooncakes on the table. you have honestly no idea how feixiao managed to procure at least a dozen different mooncakes, or even when, but it’s a little late to be asking questions now. feixiao only grins, pushing you gently by the shoulders to take a seat by the table.

“we’ll taste test all of them!” she says cheerily, plopping down on the seat next to you. “let’s start with the traditional ones…”

she reaches out, tenderly lifting a mooncake in her calloused hands. the upper side of the treat is decorated with a pattern reminiscent of a lotus flower, the pastry a delicate shade of golden brown. your fingers brush feixiao’s as you take the mooncake from her.

“this one’s got lotus seed paste filling,” she explains. “it’s on the sweeter side, and a little nutty.”

you nod at her elaboration, taking another moment to appreciate the intricacy of the mooncake, before taking a testing bite. and just like she said, a sweet but nutty taste blooms on your tongue immediately, the smooth texture offset by the slight crumbliness of the pastry. you find the balance of flavors quite enjoyable, and feixiao’s grin only broadens as she sees you enjoying yourself.

“good?” she asks, and you hum around your mouthful of mooncake. “then, we’re off to a good start then. finish that one up, and we can move on to the red bean…”

the mooncake tasting session continues for a few hours, the actual tasting broken up between little anecdotes from feixiao here and there. you learn that jiaoqiu’s favourite filling is red bean, while moze’s—surprisingly—is custard. feixiao is a lotus seed and salted egg enjoyer, which she admits is mainly because it used to be general yueyu’s favourite. as she feeds you a more modern version with cream cheese as the filling, she tells you of the time she, jiaoqiu, and a very reluctant moze tried their hands at making mooncakes. it went… fine, or so she claims (you make a mental note to ask jiaoqiu if that really was the case).

by the end of it, you’re very full of mooncakes, but also very satisfied. feixiao cleans up as you sit back in your chair, and you rest your chin on your palm as you watch her wash up some of the dishes in the sink.

“we should try making our own next year,” you say idly, already thinking about the kind of pastry and filling you’d choose. you’re so briefly lost in your own thoughts that you don’t notice the way her hands pause as they scrub the plates for just a second before continuing.

“next year, huh?” feixiao muses with a chuckle, her voice carrying a certain… weight to it, before she shakes her head and offers you a smile over her shoulder. “that sounds great. looking forward to it, baby.”

you beam back at her, and her heart jitters in her chest like a rabbit’s rather than a fox. “mhm! in the meantime, i can introduce you to some desserts from my homeworld… ah! you have to try sago pudding, it’s so good—“

feixiao listens as you ramble on about all the sweets and desserts you’re going to have her try, and she files each and every suggestion into a little niche in her heart. she may be the lacking general, but here with you, she never lacks for a reason to live—even if just to sit by your side at the dinner table and eat desserts.

[moki-dokie]

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

[floresierss]

୨୧ RIGHT WHERE WE BELONG — mark lee x reader

WORD COUNT : 5.4k (i think)

TAGS 🏷️ : meet-cute, fluff, slice of life!! no tws!

AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if you liked this part, send an ask and i’ll make a part 2! also taking requests just check my pinned first :p

The café was alive with soft chatter, the quiet clinks of cups against saucers, and the faint aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. It was your first time visiting this little corner shop, tucked away on a side street you’d stumbled across while exploring your new neighborhood. The atmosphere felt like a warm embrace—a blend of earthy tones and cozy, mismatched furniture that exuded charm.

You sipped on your latte, letting the foam settle on your lips as you scanned the room. Your gaze caught on a figure just as the door chimed open, letting in a gust of cool winter air.

He stepped in like he belonged, effortlessly cool in his slightly oversized hoodie and jeans that looked a little too well-worn. A guitar case hung from his shoulder, and his tousled dark hair framed a face so striking it could’ve been plucked from a magazine. His eyes, deep and thoughtful, held a softness that made you feel like you were intruding on a private moment just by looking.

Your heart stuttered when he ran a hand through his hair, giving the slightest smile to the barista behind the counter as he placed his order. It was a simple gesture—barely anything, really—but it sent a small thrill coursing through your chest.

You told yourself to look away. Don’t be weird, you thought, sinking a little lower into your seat. But as he glanced over his shoulder, your gazes locked.

His eyes lingered on you for just a moment, a flicker of curiosity flashing across his face. You panicked, quickly turning your attention back to the open book on your table, though you couldn’t process a single word of the page in front of you.

“Hi,” came a voice—low, melodic, and way too close for comfort.

Your head shot up, heart racing as you realized he was standing right there, his coffee in one hand and a small smile tugging at his lips. Up close, he was even more breathtaking.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice barely audible over the sudden pounding in your ears.

“Mind if I sit here for a sec?” he asked, motioning to the empty seat across from you. His voice was gentle but carried a certain warmth that made you feel at ease despite your nervousness.

You nodded quickly, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

He set his coffee down and slung his guitar case off his shoulder, resting it carefully against the table. You glanced at it, unable to hide your curiosity.

“You play?” you asked, gesturing toward the case.

He followed your gaze and chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do. Not great or anything, but enough to get by.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his modesty. “I don’t believe that. People who say they’re ‘not great’ are usually amazing.”

He laughed then—a quiet, breathy sound that made your stomach flutter. “You’re setting the bar too high for me,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

There was a beat of silence, just long enough for you to feel the heat creeping up your neck again.

“I’m Mark, by the way,” he said, offering a hand.

You took it, feeling the slight calluses on his fingertips. “Nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how your name sounded on his tongue. “Nice name.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a ridiculous amount of pride over something so simple.

Mark leaned back in his seat, his gaze wandering over the open book on your table. “What are you reading?”

You glanced down, realizing you hadn’t even touched the book since he walked in. “Oh, uh…” You turned it over to show him the cover. It was some novel you’d picked up at a thrift store—hardly something noteworthy, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Cool,” he said, nodding as if you’d just presented him with a masterpiece.

And just like that, the conversation flowed easily. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, his attention unwavering as you talked about books, music, and your favorite spots in the city. You learned that he was a musician—though he downplayed it, saying he was just “messing around” with a few friends—and that he came to this café often because it was the only place where he could write without distractions.

“Guess I’m ruining that streak, huh?” you teased.

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not at all. Best distraction I’ve had in a while.”

Mark’s smile lingered, his eyes bright with curiosity. He took a sip of his coffee, leaning slightly forward as if settling into the conversation. You couldn’t believe how naturally the moment had unfolded—it felt almost surreal, like you’d stepped into the pages of one of the books you loved so much.

“So, what brings you to this part of the city?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. “I just moved here, actually,” you admitted. “Still trying to figure out where everything is. This café was a lucky find.”

His eyebrows lifted, an easy smile spreading across his face. “No way. First time here, and you’re already sitting at the best table in the house? That’s impressive.”

You glanced around, noticing how the cozy corner where you sat gave a perfect view of the whole café, with the added bonus of a big window letting in streams of golden afternoon light. “Guess I’ve got good instincts,” you said, smiling back.

“Clearly,” he said, and for a moment, the way he looked at you made the world seem a little quieter.

Your cheeks warmed, and you tried to steer the focus back to him. “So, you said you write here? What kind of stuff do you work on?”

He looked a little bashful at the question, his fingers tracing the edge of his coffee cup. “Mostly music. Lyrics, melodies… that kind of thing. It’s nothing fancy, though.”

“You’ve got a guitar and a place you go specifically to write music,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing fancy’ to me.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re really making me sound cooler than I am.”

“Well, you seem pretty cool to me so far,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Mark paused, his lips twitching into a small smile as he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth, scrambling for a way to backtrack, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Thanks,” he said softly, his sincerity disarming.

Before you could say anything else, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting into something between reluctant and amused. “Ah, sorry,” he said, picking it up. “My friend’s been waiting for me at the studio. He’s probably losing his mind wondering where I am.”

Your stomach dropped a little at the thought of the conversation ending so soon, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. “Don’t let me keep you,” you said, mustering a smile.

Mark hesitated, his fingers lingering on his phone. Then he looked at you again, his expression thoughtful. “Tell you what,” he said, leaning down to rummage through his bag. He pulled out a small, battered notebook and a pen, flipping it open to a blank page. “I’m gonna write my number down. In case you ever want company next time you’re exploring the city.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as he tore the page out and slid it across the table to you. His handwriting was a little messy, but you could clearly make out the digits.

“Only if you want to, though,” he added quickly, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “No pressure or anything.”

You took the paper, feeling a little dazed. “Thanks,” you managed, tucking it carefully into your bag.

Mark stood, slinging his guitar case back over his shoulder. “It was really nice meeting you, Y/N,” he said, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

“You too, Mark,” you said, your voice a little softer now.

As he walked away, the door chimed again, and you couldn’t help but watch as he disappeared into the street, his figure blending into the crowd.

You sat there for a while after he left, the piece of paper burning a hole in your bag. The café felt a little quieter now, a little less vibrant without him in it. But as you replayed the conversation in your head, you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.

Mark Lee.

You didn’t know much about him yet, but something told you this wasn’t the last time you’d be seeing him.

────────────────────────

The city felt different after meeting Mark. Every street corner seemed to buzz with new possibilities, and the café where you’d first met him became a spot you found yourself gravitating toward more often than not. You didn’t text him right away—part nerves, part overthinking—but a week later, you found yourself staring at his number one evening, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: Hi, Mark! This is Y/N from the café last week. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.

The reply came quicker than you expected.

Mark: Hey, Y/N! Not interrupting at all. Actually, you just saved me from staring at a blank notebook for the last hour.

The ease of his response settled your nerves, and soon, the conversation flowed effortlessly. After a few back-and-forth messages about your respective weeks, he typed:

Mark: What are you up to tomorrow?

Your heart skipped a beat.

You: Nothing planned. Why?

Mark: There’s this spot I think you’d like. If you’re free, we could check it out together.

The next day, you met him at a small park near the river. He was already there when you arrived, sitting on a bench with his guitar case propped up beside him. He looked up as you approached, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Hey,” he said, standing to greet you. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hey,” you said, feeling the warmth of his smile settle over you. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a coffee cup in your hand.”

He laughed, his nose scrunching slightly. “Trust me, it’s only because this place has no café nearby. Otherwise, I’d be double-fisting americanos.”

The two of you wandered along the riverbank, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the water. Mark led the way to a small clearing where a few people were scattered about, some picnicking, others just enjoying the view.

“This is where I come when I need to clear my head,” he said, setting his guitar case down on the grass. “It’s quiet, but not too quiet, you know?”

You nodded, taking in the serene atmosphere. “It’s perfect.”

Mark looked at you, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It kind of is.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the sounds of the river and the distant chatter of people filling the space between you. Then Mark unzipped his guitar case, pulling out the instrument and sitting cross-legged on the grass.

“I thought I’d bring this along,” he said, glancing up at you. “Maybe you’d want to hear something?”

Your eyes lit up. “I’d love that.”

He started strumming softly, the notes flowing effortlessly from his fingers. The melody was light and warm, matching the golden hour perfectly. As he played, you couldn’t help but admire the way he seemed so at ease, his entire focus on the music.

When he finished, you clapped lightly, a wide smile on your face. “That was beautiful. Did you write it?”

He nodded, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, just something I’ve been working on. It’s not finished yet, though.”

“I think it’s amazing,” you said sincerely.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing, the conversation flowing even more naturally than it had in the café. You learned more about him—how he got into music, the songs that inspired him, and the silly inside jokes he shared with his friends.

“Okay, your turn,” Mark said at one point, resting his guitar on his lap. “What’s something you’re passionate about? Like, the thing that makes you lose track of time.”

You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious under his earnest gaze. But there was something about the way he looked at you—genuine and patient—that made you feel safe enough to open up.

As you spoke, he listened intently, nodding and asking questions that made it clear he cared about every word you said.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you felt like you’d known him for years instead of just days.

“I should probably get going,” you said reluctantly, noticing how late it was getting.

Mark stood, slipping his guitar back into its case. “Yeah, me too. But hey—this was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the thought. “I’d like that.”

As you walked back toward the park entrance together, Mark hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“Y/N?”

You turned to look at him, your steps slowing.

“I’m really glad I sat at your table that day,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught, warmth blooming in your chest. “Me too,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you before he stepped back. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” you promised.

────────────────────────

A crisp breeze swept through the park, rustling the leaves that clung stubbornly to the trees. You and Mark walked side by side, the warmth of your coats warding off the chill. It had become your thing—these unplanned walks where you let the city guide you.

Today, Mark had insisted on showing you his favorite bookstore, tucked away on a quiet street you never would’ve found on your own. The shop was magical—walls lined with mismatched shelves crammed with books that practically begged to be explored. A faint scent of paper and dust hung in the air, accompanied by the soft murmur of classical music from an old radio in the corner.

“Do you always come here?” you asked, trailing a finger along the spines of the books as you wandered through the aisles.

“Yeah, when I’m stuck,” Mark said, his voice warm. He was a few steps ahead, pulling out a book to examine it. “It’s like the energy of this place helps me think. Plus, the owner doesn’t mind if I sit in the corner for hours without buying anything.”

You laughed, picturing Mark cross-legged on the floor, lost in his own world. “You sound like you’ve tested that theory a lot.”

“Guilty,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. “I even have a favorite corner.”

“Show me.”

Mark led you to a small nook at the back of the store, where a battered armchair sat surrounded by stacks of books that didn’t quite fit on the shelves. A tiny lamp perched on a side table gave the space a cozy glow.

“This is it,” he said, gesturing proudly. “My thinking throne.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It suits you.”

Mark plopped down in the chair, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s not as comfortable as it looks, though. I always end up with a crick in my neck.”

“Sounds like you need a better throne,” you teased.

“Nah, it’s part of the charm,” he said, patting the armrest. He glanced up at you, his gaze softening. “You should sit.”

You hesitated. “What about you?”

“I’ll manage,” he said, standing and motioning for you to take his place.

With a small smile, you sat down, sinking into the worn cushion. The chair wasn’t particularly comfortable, but the way Mark watched you made it feel like the coziest spot in the world.

“So,” he said, crouching down to sit on the floor beside you. “If you had to pick just one book from this whole place, what would it be?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You can’t ask me that. It’s impossible.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the armrest. “First one that comes to mind.”

You thought for a moment before naming a book that had stuck with you for years. Mark listened intently as you explained why it meant so much to you, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve never read it,” he admitted when you finished. “But the way you talk about it makes me want to.”

“You should,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I think you’d like it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet hum of the bookstore filled the air, but all you could focus on was the way Mark looked at you—like you were the most interesting story in the room.

“Y/N,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“You… you make things feel different. In a good way.” he said, his voice steady.

Your heart fluttered, the sincerity in his words catching you off guard. “really?,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark’s lips curved into a small smile, and he reached up to gently tap the side of your armrest. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile matching his. “We really do.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of quiet laughter and shared stories, the bookstore becoming your little world. And as you left together, walking back out into the crisp evening air, you couldn’t help but think that the bond you were building with Mark was something rare—something you never wanted to let go of.

────────────────────────

The following days felt like a string of golden moments tied together. You and Mark fell into an easy rhythm, meeting up whenever your schedules allowed, sometimes with a plan and other times simply wandering until the city gave you something to do. Each encounter left you learning more about him, peeling back layers of his personality and finding yourself even more drawn to the kind, funny, and thoughtful person he was.

One evening, Mark texted you out of the blue.

Mark: Do you like ice skating?

You: I’ve never tried it. Why?

Mark: Great. Meet me at the rink tomorrow at 6. I’ll teach you.

When you arrived at the outdoor skating rink the next day, the air was cold enough to make your breath visible. The rink was surrounded by strings of twinkling lights, their glow reflecting off the ice. Mark was waiting for you by the entrance, bundled up in a puffy jacket and a beanie that made him look impossibly cozy.

“You made it!” he said, grinning as you approached.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. “But just so you know, I’m expecting to fall a lot.”

“That’s fine,” he said, handing you a pair of skates. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

The warmth in his voice made your cheeks flush, though you blamed it on the cold.

After lacing up your skates, you hesitated at the edge of the rink. The ice looked smooth and unforgiving, and your balance already felt shaky just standing still.

Mark skated up to you, gliding effortlessly across the ice. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

You took a deep breath and reached for his hand, the steadiness of his grip reassuring. As you stepped onto the ice, your legs wobbled immediately, and you clung to his arm for support.

“Okay, okay,” you said, laughing nervously. “This is harder than it looks.”

“You’re doing great,” Mark said, his voice warm with encouragement. “Just keep your knees slightly bent, and let me guide you.”

He skated backward slowly, holding both your hands as you shuffled forward. His calm confidence made you feel braver, and soon you were laughing along with him as you found your footing.

“You’re a natural,” he said after a while, his tone teasing.

“Oh, sure,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you nearly stumbled. “Totally natural.”

Mark chuckled, his laughter light and genuine. “Hey, you’re still standing, aren’t you? That’s a win.”

As the evening went on, you grew more comfortable on the ice, even daring to let go of Mark’s hands for short bursts. But every time you wobbled, he was right there, steadying you with an easy smile and a reassuring word.

By the time you both left the rink, your cheeks were flushed, and your laughter echoed in the crisp night air.

“See?” Mark said as you walked toward a nearby café to warm up. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper you couldn’t quite name. “Thanks, Mark,” you said softly.

“For what?”

“For always making things feel… safe,” you admitted, your voice quiet but sincere.

He stopped walking, turning to face you. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that felt like sunshine breaking through clouds.

“Anytime,” he said simply.

────────────────────────

A month after the ice-skating night, winter seemed to tighten its grip on the city. The streets were dusted with snow, and holiday lights twinkled in every window. The days had grown shorter, but somehow, your time with Mark felt fuller.

One evening, Mark texted you with a request that immediately made your heart race.

Mark: Hey, my band’s playing a small gig tomorrow night. Would you want to come?

You stared at the message, your stomach flipping. You’d heard Mark talk about his music countless times and had seen him casually strum his guitar, but the idea of seeing him perform in front of a crowd felt like stepping into an entirely new part of his world.

You: I’d love to. Where is it?

The venue was a small but cozy bar tucked into a quiet street. When you arrived, the place was buzzing with people, the warm glow of fairy lights casting a golden hue over the room. You spotted Mark near the stage, tuning his guitar. His friends—who he’d mentioned in passing but you’d never met—were gathered around him, laughing and teasing each other.

Mark caught sight of you and immediately broke into a smile, waving you over.

“Y/N! You made it!”

“Of course,” you said, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He introduced you to his bandmates—friendly, energetic guys who welcomed you with easy smiles—and then excused himself to get ready.

“Wish me luck,” he said, leaning in slightly.

“You don’t need it,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

As the set began, you found a spot near the front, your gaze fixed on Mark. He was in his element—his fingers moving effortlessly over the guitar strings, his voice filling the room with a raw, unfiltered energy that sent chills down your spine.

It wasn’t just his talent that struck you, though. It was the way he poured himself into the performance, his passion evident in every note. Watching him was like seeing a different side of him, one that was bold and unreserved in a way that left you breathless.

When the set ended, the crowd erupted in applause, and Mark’s gaze flickered to you. The look in his eyes made your breath catch—like you were the only person in the room.

After the show, you waited as Mark packed up his gear. He made his way over to you, his face still flushed from the performance.

“So?” he asked, his voice tinged with nervous excitement. “What’d you think?”

“You were incredible,” you said honestly. “Like, seriously. I had no idea you were that good.”

Mark laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, your eyes meeting his. “You were amazing, Mark. I’m so glad I came.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his expression softening as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Can I tell you something?”

Your heart raced, the noise of the bar fading into the background. “Of course.”

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone like you my whole life,” he said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his words. “And now that you’re here, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

His confession left you breathless, your heart swelling with emotions you’d been holding back.

“Mark…” you began, your voice catching.

But before you could say anything else, he reached for your hand, his touch warm and grounding.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his gaze earnest. “I just wanted you to know.”

The world around you seemed to fade as you looked at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I feel the same,” you said softly.

Mark’s eyes lit up, a smile spreading across his face. “You do?”

You nodded, your own smile mirroring his. “I do.”

The space between you seemed to disappear as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the world holding its breath.

And then, with a quiet certainty, Mark closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt like the culmination of every moment you’d shared.

When you pulled away, his smile was radiant, his hand still holding yours.

“Best gig ever,” he said, his voice filled with quiet joy.

You laughed, your heart feeling impossibly full. “Yeah,” you said, squeezing his hand. “It really was.”

────────────────────────

After that night, everything shifted—but in the most wonderful way. The kiss, soft and sincere, had opened a door between you and Mark, a door that led to something deeper, more certain. No longer was it just the occasional meeting or casual conversation—it was real, and it felt right. The space between you was now filled with trust, laughter, and a mutual understanding that grew with each passing day.

The next morning, your phone buzzed, and you saw a message from Mark:

Mark: Good morning :) Did last night really happen, or did I just dream it?

Your heart fluttered. The memory of his smile, the feel of his lips against yours, was still so fresh, so vivid.

You: Pretty sure it happened. Unless we had the same dream?

Mark: Crazy. So… what’re you doing today?

You smiled at the casual text, feeling a warmth spread through you. It had only been a few hours since you saw him last, yet his message made it feel like forever. You responded quickly, eager to continue the connection you were building.

You: I was thinking of going to that little café on Maple Street. Want to join?

Mark: You’re on. See you soon.

That question marked the beginning of another perfect day. You met Mark at the café, a cozy little spot you had both passed by several times but never had the chance to sit in. The moment he walked in, your eyes met, and a smile tugged at your lips. As always, his presence felt easy, like he belonged there, like he belonged with you.

The two of you found a corner by the window, sunlight streaming through and casting a warm glow on the table between you. As usual, the conversation flowed effortlessly, but there was an unspoken shift—a depth to your words, a quiet understanding that you had crossed into something different. Mark had this ability to make everything feel like it mattered, even when you were talking about the most trivial things. He listened with a sincerity that made your heart ache, and for the first time in your life, you felt seen, really seen, in the way that you’d always longed for.

After sipping your drinks and sharing a few laughs, you found yourselves strolling through a nearby park. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the ground, and there was a crispness to the air that felt perfect for walking side by side.

As you walked, your hands brushed—just the lightest touch at first, a casual accident. But then, his fingers lingered near yours, just enough for you to feel the pull of his touch. Without a word, you slid your hand into his, his fingers intertwining with yours as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A quiet thrill ran through you at the simplicity of it—the way your hand fit perfectly in his.

“Y/N,” Mark said, breaking the silence, his voice soft but steady.

You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze on you. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about last night,” he continued, his voice carrying a seriousness that made your heart beat faster. “About us. And I know this is… kind of sudden, but I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt to be with you. To kiss you. To be close to you. And I just want to be honest with you about something.”

Your pulse quickened, wondering what was coming next.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, and then he turned to face you fully, stopping in the middle of the path. “I want to be with you, Y/N. Like, really be with you. I don’t want to just keep hanging out and pretending like it’s not something more. I want to be your boyfriend, if that’s something you want too.”

The words hung in the air between you, so simple, yet so loaded with meaning. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of the question settling over you, mixing with the warmth in your chest.

“I—” you started, your voice soft but full of emotion. “Mark, I want that too. More than you know.”

His face lit up at your response, his smile reaching his eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, as though he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, your hand tightening around his. “Yeah. I think I’ve been waiting for something like this—for someone like you.”

Mark’s smile softened, and he stepped closer, closing the space between you. “I don’t want to mess this up. I just—everything about this feels so right, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected—something far beyond what you’d imagined. “It does,” you agreed. “It really does.”

Mark’s gaze softened, and in that moment, all of the uncertainty you had both carried with you melted away. His hand cupped your cheek gently, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The world seemed to quiet around you, leaving only the steady thrum of your hearts in the air.

“I guess this is the part where I kiss you again?” Mark whispered, his lips teasing the air between you.

You nodded, feeling a playful grin tug at your own lips. “I think that sounds like a pretty good idea.”

With that, Mark closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tender, but full of promise. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was the beginning of something more. Something real.

When you pulled back, Mark’s expression was filled with joy, but also an undeniable relief. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You laughed softly, your heart still racing. “Me too.”

And just like that, everything between you clicked into place. It wasn’t something you had to define—it just was. There was no need for more words, because the feeling was clear, and it was mutual. You were Mark’s, and he was yours. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[bloodyshadow1]

look, the thing with Toshiro is that he is not a bad guy, I don't think he would work out with Falin no matter the case, but he's not a bad guy. He is just a guy in a foreign land, and he was sheltered as a rich guys son who has retainers instead of friends, he doesn't know how to act towards people.

He is friends with Laios, yes things in ep 17 came to a boil and Toshiro finally exploded, but that doesn't mean he really hates him. He might not be the best friend Laios imagined him to be, but he doesn't hate the guy despite what he said. Yes, I'm sure he was genuinely bothered by the way Laios acts like the rest of the party, sans Falin, but him exploding at Laios because it's the worst possible time is not the same as him secretly always hating him.

At the time things break bad, had just had a party wipe where not only did they lose to a dragon, the woman he was infatuated with didn't leave with them. He did what he thought was best, get skilled retainers and head back into the dungeon. He has been fighting monsters through the dungeon, not resting, sleeping or eating for days. He finds out the same girl he likes was revived with dark magic, then turned into a Chimera that tears through his retainers, and almost kills them. As he's panicking Laios keeps saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and he finally explodes.

People are not just who they are at their worst moments, just like they're not who they only who they are at the best moments in their life. He's not an asshole for believing Marcille is dangerous because of her using dark magic when he thinks it turned Falin into a chimera and the social norms is dark magic is evil. Especially when Falin became the most powerful monster in the dungeon capable of using magic that slaughtered his retainers and every other adventurer in a few minutes.

*Spoilers for the manga*

When he's had time to think and get some rest and food, Toshiro is on Laios' side, willing to fight elite elven dungeon specialists on his behalf.

Also I know Laios is the fandom's precious little autistic bean, but he isn't guiltless in their relationship. Sure, there was not a malicious bone in Laios' body, but it doesn't change that he saw a foreigner in a bar and blasted him with questions without asking him his name. Yes, Toshiro should have explained, but everyone in the Touden party is neurodivergent, you cannot change my mind. Sometimes it is easier to avoid awkwardness by not correcting people when they get your name wrong. Toshiro didn't think he's be a part of Laios' party for years, he thought it was a meeting with a stranger in a bar, and then he's Shuro for 2 years to everyone in the party and the adventurers community.

People are complicated, and they should be allowed to be. Toshiro might not get a lot of chapters, but it is clear he is not just some asshole who has secretly hated Laios, it's just at the worst moment of his life after a series of terrible weeks things come to a boil. The whole manga/anime has more nuanced characters than any I've read/watched.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I have always had a hard time gaining muscle since I have a genetic problem in that area and I look younger than I am because I am a pasty white ginger. My dream has always been to be one of those huge hairy lumberjacks. I wish you could get me a job as one and within a few days I grow into my new roll.

Gingers are amazing. It sounds like we just need to set you on the right track. Sleeping through the night you have dreams of muscle. Hair. And being a lumberjack. Little did you know that while you sleep your body begins to change. Getting on the right bath. You grow taller from 5’6” to a giant 6’2”. You feet hang off the bed ! And muscle begins to grow. Real hulking your frame up. Massive arms hang from your sides while massive pecs form over a strong core ! And hair grows. And lots of it. Soon you’re a wirey mess of hair and muscle. Sweat is pouring off your body and staining the end sheets. Even dripping off your thickened large feet.

Waking up you are shocked to see such a grand change over night. You’re flexing and can’t help it ! You can’t wait to show off your new lumberjack body. This is really a dream come true ! Your friends come over and are shocked at your transformation. They don’t even believe it’s you but they can still see it is. Your face even though covered with hair is still recognizable under the thick pelt that’s now on it. They demand to know how this happened. What did you do! And you just smirk and say “well wishes come try to people who ask the right person” and indeed you are right 😈

You enjoy the rest of the evening with your friend. Loving it up as they call you name like ginger bear and the walking barrel! You’re huge ! One downfall so far though is that you notice how much more you sweat. How much hungrier you are. You don’t think you stopped eating all day ! But a growing bean like yourself needs all the calories you can get don’t you? That night you pass out. Those 15 beers really did you in!

While you sleep just like the night before you begin to change again. Hair thickening. Becoming more prominent on your arms and hands even your feet. But one other thing happens. Age. You begin to quickly lose that youthful appearance as you take on a more rugged look. One that is fitting of a lumberjack. One that been doing it for a couple years or so. Lines forming on your face and your muscle growing less defined but non the less till there. You wake up the next morning sore. You sit up in bed and don’t notice anything right off hand other than you back slightly hurting. Calases on your hands and feet have formed. It that’s from being a true lumberjack right? You walk to the bathroom and you’re shocked to see a man I of at least 40 staring back at you !

You step back from the mirror. What is going on!? Your mind is in a panic but your face registered none of these emotions. A lumberjack doesn’t freak out. If anything your body as if on auto pilot gives rush same smirk again and you get dressed. You go out for the day. Getting a beer here and there. Eating! You try to reach out to your friends and they respond back asking who you are. You’re too old to have friends their age now anyway right ? So it’s all part of the magic. You’ll need to find new friends that str more inline with the same path you’re on.

You make it back to your home which you see is slowly changing. Becoming more of a log cabin it looks like. Busting through the door with some tightening shoes and some sweaty pits you stumble to the kitchen with your case of beer. Another 15 in and your already passed out on the couch. And now it’s time for the final change. You age another 10 years. 50! Now you’ve really got some serious life experience as a lumberjack. A thick great beard grows across your face as your timberland boots burrs open at the toes from your feet growing another 4 sizes. 17!! Your nipples point downward on hard slabs of muscle the sag only slightly. You’re snoring louder than ever as your stomach pushes outward. Holding the same rock hard appearance and feel that it has before. But now forcing a massive rock hard muscle gut onto your frame. When you wake up and see the changes this time youre shocked. Internally screaming again. But your body won’t respond to this emotion. Instead. Instinctively open another beer and chug it. And another. And another. You stand up from the couch and kick off your trashed shoes. Your socks have holes in them as you make your way to the bathroom. Stripping off the remnants of clothes that won’t fit anymore you stare at your massive finger bear body in the mirror. “Damn I look good!” You growl. Distended abdomen. Bulging bulking muscle. Massive feet. And so much hair you look like you’re wearing a damn sweater. You smile at your sweaty body. Now the only problem. You’re a lumberjack….but without clothes.

[bloodwrittenletters]

YOU SAID 'forever' AND I ALMOST BOUGHT IT

pairing . . . percy jackson x fem!mortal!reader

the cassette playing . . . i miss you, i'm sorry! gracie abrams

the letter reads . . . you loved your boyfriend, but maybe he didn't love you enough to stay— or to say the whole truth.

warnings . . . cursing (just a bit), ANGST, some comedic relief (very tiny).

a/n . . . soooo......... long time no see!! i was thinking of making headcanons out of this but settled for a fic, and i'm thinking maybe doing a part 2????? i dunno, i guess we'll see 😁 also, I just recently discovered jellycats and THEY ARE SO CUTE?? I need one in my life.

many months ago, in the epitome of heart aches of many, your love had been given to a boy with a pained soul with your first kiss. it was percy's sixteen birthday, just after the battle of Manhattan had ended— one that you along with many others had thought it was an attack to the Empire State Building, and he was hurt. you knew he had been involved in some way, he was the one you woke up to be holding you, he was the one who wet your cheeks with his own tears.

you didn't ask about it, didn't question it, just as soon as you could form a logical thought— you were holding him to your heart.

percy and you have been neighbors since you both were thirteen, after his mom and him had moved into the apartment just bellow yours. the friendship blossomed when after some kids from his school decided that it was funny to terrorize him at home, too. and his crush on you had started when you showed with a umbrella ready to chase them off one hit at the time.

the rest of your relationship went down with soft touches, pinning from both sides, and sweet notes during his time at home— which wasn't a lot due to his time in his all holy super camp.

still, the both of you had cherished the little moments you two could share together. and in his sixteen birthday, you decided to seal the deal by gifting him your first kiss.

after long talks, a lot of reassurance for percy's wounded heart, and many excuses, it happened. four whole months of plain love and happiness, with little sides of bits of truths he could offer you.

'my family is... messy, so messy. i can't even tell you about it,' he said once. and you understood and promised to wait until he could spill the beans.

that was, until he disappeared from the face of the earth.

you fell asleep in his arm after playing Moana for him, and the next morning, there was nothing but a peacock feather tangled into your hair. like it was some fucking joke. no lover. no percy was at the scene.

for the next week, you were livid, searching through every street in new york you could get past through.

until annabeth chase, percy's bestie 2# and someone who you couldn't decide if you wanted to be friends or run for your life from, and grover underwood, percy's bestie 1# took over the case.

you were left in his room, wearing his hoodie and crying into his pillow until you passed out. you and his mom held yourselves together— at least that was what it seemed for an outsider.

your heart was irreparable, months started to pass and there was no signs from him. dreams that once gave you a sweet relief started to turn sour and not even in the darkest time of the day you were able to escape the pain.

one month, two, three... it seemed endless, and soon you were left with nothing but the memories of him. since the tears you had shred for him had washed away the smell of him from his clothes, and your lips couldn't remember how sweet his mouth was.

percy jackson was gone.

four months, five, and six, and there was only anger bottling up inside you. more and more.

"come back to me," you cried, hugging the jellycat penguin named percy you had bought for him— the same one he so gently loved and used every night. the habit to buy him more and more stayed with you, but that one was his favorite. and over the course of the months, it had been your comfort for when you wanted to hug him, but oh! you couldn't.

"just... please, come back to me, perce, i don't want to do this without you."

the endless nights of sleep turned into nights of overthinking. maybe if i held him tighter, maybe if i kissed him more, maybe if i told him i loved him—

maybe percy would still be here.

you buried yourself deeper and deeper in that pit of hell.

it was another shitty day of crying, missing, and cursing in the jackson house from your part when the phone rang. paul and sally had left you in the apartment to study. the house was silent but your head was full, of pain, of hope, of aching.

"i'm going!" like the person calling would even hear, you pulled yourself from percy's bed, dragging the blue bunny stuffy you had named mar for the last 18th with you, groaning at the sun hitting your eyes after an ocean flowed from your eyes.

"hi?"

silence.

"anyone there? is this just some stupid prank?"

it wasn't. percy was on the other line doing his best to not pass out. gods, he had missed you so much...

"i'm going to hang up if you don't talk soon—"

"hi, baby... i miss you."

[oxyvouge]

ੈ never have i ever kissed you. ✩‧₊˚

summary: wherein you, the marauders, lily, marlene and regulus played the muggle game "Never Have I Ever."

━━ ✦ pairing(s): marauders, lily, marlene and regulus x fem! reader

━━ ✦ warning: kissing

━━ ✦ word count: 1.3k

author's note: lets just pretend they have a high tolerance or theyre a lil affected by it cuz i forgot to write it down there 😭. btw sirius and reggie r on good terms here and also — ITS DANE DEEHAN'S PETER AND I CANNOT NOT ADD HIM WHEN HE'S HOT 😭😭😭😭

THE MARAUDERS, a few other friends, and you gathered in the common room, forming a circle for a muggle game Lily called "Never Have I Ever." The concept piqued your interest; it was something entirely new to you and sounded like you would have a good time especially when you heard how the game works.

But before that you, Sirius, Peter, and Lily went to the kitchens to take some snacks, glasses, and a few bottles of firewhisky for this and went back to the common room where the others were waiting and circled.

Lily initiated the round, her eyes scanning each person in the circle. "Never have I ever," she began, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "tasted the poop flavor in Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans." Laughter erupted as James, Remus, and a few others reached for the firewhisky and took a drink. Sirius and you couldn't help but burst into laughter too, sympathizing with their unfortunate experiences.

"It was bloody awful! Feels like I was gobbling up Pads' poop by mistake." James wrinkled his nose, wincing as the firewhisky blazed its way down his throat. Sirius burst into laughter, but his chuckles abruptly halted as James' comment hit his ears and you choked on your saliva. With a flushed face, Sirius playfully smacked James on the back, eliciting a groan from him. "Fuck."

The empty glasses clinked as they were refilled, the game continuing with fervor. Seated next to Lily, Marlene was thinking of what to ask. "Never have I ever lost my chocolate frog and found it in front of a teacher." Peter drank his firewhisky.

"I remember this!" You exclaimed with a chuckle, clutching a treacle tart. "Peter lost his chocolate frog while going inside the castle from Hogsmeade and tried to go after it only for it to end up in Professor McGonagall's palms. Then, she gave it to Peter and Peter ate it after brushing the dirt away."

Remus took his turn, a playful glint in his eyes. "Never have I ever been caught by Filch while out of bed after curfew." The Marauders, excluding Remus and including you, raised their glasses to their lips, taking hearty swigs of firewhisky.

Lily's eyebrows arched curiously, her gaze shifting toward you. "Even you, Y/N?" You shrugged with a sheepish grin, caught in the act. "What were you up to?"

You intended to avoid the question, but Marlene piped up, unable to resist the urge to share, "Oh, it's either she's setting up pranks with them," She gestured towards the infamous Black and Potter duo, who responded with knowing smirks, "Or she's engaged in some secret snogging rendezvous with Black."

"Which Black are we talking about here?" You countered mischievously, casting an amused glance at both brothers.

"Both," Marlene replied with an air of nonchalance, earning a round of chuckles from the group, a coughing Regulus, and a shock i-don't-know-what-to-say-i-feel-betrayed Sirius.

The blonde female had frequently stumbled upon them in rather compromising situations. On various occasions, it happened to be you and Regulus emerging from a cupboard, catching Marlene on her way to class. The sight of you and the younger boy with tousled hair, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks was hard to miss. Marlene also vividly remembered the time she stumbled upon you and Sirius, who were well on their way to shagging, both only partially clothed and entangled on the bed. Fortunately — for Marlene's case — she barged in before all the rest of their garments were thrown on the floor and preventing further embarrassment.

Honestly, who could really blame her? It wasn't her decision to conduct such activities within a shared dorm room, where other roommates also resided.

Marlene's cheeks heated as memories replayed in her mind. She shook her head, murmuring, "It's a traumatic experience."

Seated between you and Remus, Sirius wore a knowing smirk, mischief glinting in his eyes. Your heart fluttered as you felt a tinge of nervousness, his transparent mischievousness making you uneasy. "Never…" He began, his words causing a slight stumble in your breath as he continued, "have I ever kissed Y/N." Once more, you found yourself momentarily taken aback, a surprised reaction escaping you.

Sirius' gaze swept across the group, his smirk growing as he met each person's eyes, enjoying their reactions. With a feeling of delightfulness, he snatched the bottle of firewhisky and took a victorious swig. Nearby, Regulus raised an eyebrow, his amusement detached yet evident, as he took a casual sip of his own firewhisky. "Just u—" He began, his sentence left hanging in the air, a smirk curving his lips.

Lily roll her eyes and playfully retort, "Trying to embarrass everyone now, are we? Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Cheers to your boldness, I suppose." She then took a sip of her firewhisky, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and annoyance at Sirius' antics.

"Wait a second — everyone?" Sirius exclaimed, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. Marlene couldn't contain herself and erupted into laughter, finding the situation utterly comical. With a gleeful grin, she grabbed the firewhisky and took a big gulp. "Even McKinnon? Seriously, Y/N, how did you do it?" Sirius continued, his smirk growing wider.

Observing the scene, Remus couldn't help but roll his eyes playfully, his expression a blend of exasperation and fondness. He reached for his firewhisky and took a measured sip, his gaze briefly locking with yours.

You nonchalantly replied. "She was asking me to teach her how to kiss — who am I to refuse?" Peter let out a nervous chuckle and take a small sip of firewhisky.

As Sirius noticed the sip Peter took, his eyebrows arched mischievously. He glanced at you and exchanged an amused look with Lily. Lily, her curiosity piqued, raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Even Peter?" Her surprise was evident, the corners of her lips twitching in a mixture of astonishment and amusement.

All eyes turned to James, who met their gaze with an intrigued quirk of his eyebrow. His gaze then shifted to you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin as he leaned back in his chair. "Looks like I've fallen a bit behind, haven't I?" he mused, a glint of determination lighting up his eyes.

In a flash, he rose from his seat, a confident swagger in his step as he dropped down to one knee in front of you. His presence felt magnetic as he leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and before you could fully process the moment, his lips met yours in a quick, playful kiss.

The room was filled with a collective gasp as all eyes turned to both of you as James pulled back, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. James then took the bottle of firewhisky from Sirius and chugged the remaining liquid down.

A mixture of shock, amusement, and admiration swept across their faces. Lily's jaw dropped slightly and twitching into an amused smile. Remus's eyebrows shot up, his usual composed demeanor momentarily replaced by astonishment. Sirius's playful grin widened into genuine surprise, and even Peter seemed momentarily stunned, his mouth hanging open. Marlene let out an excited whoop, her surprise quickly turning into enthusiastic cheers. Regulus raised an eyebrow, a subtle flicker of being taken aback swept across his features.

James' smirk softened into a warm grin as he glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a heartbeat before he turned back to the others. "Honestly, Prongs." You stated recovering from your surprised state with a fond smile tugging on your lips.

A mischievous glint danced in Marlene's eyes as she playfully nudged Sirius with her elbow. "Seems like you're not the only one stealing the show tonight, Black."

A warm chuckle rumbled from Remus as he shook his head, a genuine fondness reflecting in his gaze. "You've outdone yourself, Prongs."

Even Regulus's typically stoic expression softened, a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. "Quite the move," he conceded.

you can make a request here where you'll be guided by the guidelines and check out the masterlist.

[nmakii]

i saw u were taking requests! uhmmm, i had this thought just recently; you know how in the v first ep of hh where alastor kinda runs his fingers up his staff thingie? well, That but him doing it to reader instead teehee 🤭

YOUR SWEET RADIO DEMON!

— on a date with alastor, he gets unusually possessive and jealous

— I SAW THIS ANDIMMIDEITYYL HAD TO WRITE IT

as infamously known by hotel residents and staff, alastor loves to invade others’ personal space; pulling them uncomfortably close, touching their faces— it’s the sheer entertainment to see them writhe uncomfortably under his harsh touch, knowing that he could make them disappear right now if he wanted to.

but, he especially likes to touch you, his dear. your puffy baby cheeks, your big eyes, your resting pout on those pretty lips; you’re simply just adorable, he could eat you up!

he has to admit, you’re also divinely gorgeous, what if other overlords try to steal you away from him? of course, no one would even compare to him, much less dare to… but, he must be cautious in case some egotistical sinner thinks that they’d be able to court you.

he’d thought about marking you, perhaps on the neck, but doing that would include unsightly deeds that he wouldn’t want to indulge in…

so then, he decided to do the next best thing; have you accompany him as a companion through his day. keeping you with him as he does his overlord duties, an arm safely around your waist. and, in return, he spoils you with lovely gifts of top-notch quality.

of course, there are better solutions to satiate his possessive behavior… but, this is the one that both of you find most enjoyable.

on one of these days, alastor followed you inside as the two of you went on a date to lu-lu world, taking you on all of the thrilling rollercoasters. to be quite honest, he had a fun time, albeit all the tacky circus decor throughout the place.

while at one of the game booths, you threw the bean bag, hoping to score some points. alastor used his shadow to pull it into the hole, making absolute sure you win.

the gamemaker’s jaw fell in awe, never usually having anyone beat the game. “lovely game, my dear! i believe there is a prize that was won?” alastor looked at the demon gamemaker who hurriedly brought a large lamb-like plushie, styled after charlie’s bodyguard, dazzle.

after all of that, the red skies of hell grew dark as nightfall came. you and alastor walked to the exit before you ran into a specific man.

“oh..! what are you doing here?” lucifer asked, slightly pointing his staff towards you, his face contorting to annoyance as he looked at alastor.

“alastor and i are on… um…” you wandered off, a little embarrassed to explain. “we’re on a date, of course!” alastor announced as he pulled closer to him by your shoulder, his fingers moving behind you to dance on your skin.

your posture straightened, subconsciously trying to move away from the ticklish feeling moving itself up on your spine. “i’d say the better question is what is a man such as yourself doing here alone, hm?” alastor glared down at him.

“well, for one— i own the place.” lucifer frowned back at alastor. “very well, then. we’ll see you around, i suppose!” alastor sighed, pulling you immediately away from lucifer and not even giving him the chance to bid farewell.

as alastor pulled you away, you saw his smile getting strained. “are you ok? why were you—“ “what was that about, my love? why did you not tell him yourself that we were on a date?” you asked before alastor interrupted, the radio static over his voice getting louder the more irritated he got.

your eyes avoided his as you searched your mind for an answer. “ah… well…” you bit your lip, stalling yourself as you came up with a reason.

“is it because you’d rather go on a date with him instead?” he snarled, his eyes clearly frustrated. “would you rather be with that lonely man? all he ever does is make rubber ducks!” he sighed, his jealousy ruining his composure.

“what?!” you frowned. “no… it’s just that… it’s a little embarrassing to explain things to other people. i also got a little flustered because i didn’t expect to see him here… i love you, alastor, promise…” you pouted, leaning your head on his chest

he sighed, satisfied with your response as he put a hand on your head. “good. because you’re mine, dear. don’t ever forget that. and, if you do…” alastor started before his hand once again moved to your spine, two fingers tickling your skin as they danced their way to the nape of your neck.

“agh, stop that!” you whined. “that tickles… don’t worry, i’m all yours.” you shook your head, baffled by the extent of his jealousy. “very good… i love you too, my dear.”

[tteotlma]

Dialed In

phone sex - foreplay - dystopian

Deadpool/Reader (3.3kw)

a/n: KINKTOBER DAY THREEEEEEE -- i wanna explore w more characters so if you have any suggestions let me know. i liked writing w deadpool (it was my first time)

tw: 18+ MDNI, sexual content, strong language, adult humor, dystopian themes, violence, phone sex, masturbation, graphic dirty talk, intimate photographs, crude humor, isolation, separation, anxiety

---

The world has currently gone to hell, overrun by rogue AI and corrupt government forces, forcing many to isolate and go into hiding. Being Wade’s “Sexy Pants Love Nugget” (as he likes to put it) comes with perks. When everything went to shit Wade made sure to keep you safe in some surprise underground bunker he had. 

“Oh, this?” Wade gestures around the bunker. “It’s my secret underground love lair.” He says turning to you. You only blink back at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, fine,” he huffs, clearly upset you won’t play along, but he gets it—whole world potentially ending and everything. “But it is my secret underground lair. Every superhero—or, anti-hero, in my case—needs one. Sure, Batman has his cave, Tony Stark has his fancy mansion, but me,” he thumbs his chest with a grin. 

“I’ve got a bunker, baby. Way cooler.” He winks playfully, grabbing your hand and leading you to the slightly crusty-looking sofa pressed against the wall.

“People thought I was nuts, but I planned for this whole dystopian thing ages ago. Call it my ‘just-in-case-the-world-goes-to-shit-and-I-need-to-hide-out-with-my-favorite-person’ bunker.” He gestures toward the kitchen. “Stocked with essentials: Raisin Bran, chimichangas, and—wait for it—pajama onesies. We’ve got a blue unicorn, a white one, a purple one, and a whole collection of Hello Kitty undies. Oh! And the entire Golden Girls DVD box set,” he adds, pointing at a dresser stacked with DVDs and an old TV stand.

He then gestures proudly to the back wall, packed with an insane amount of weaponry. “We’ve got bean bags, grenades, Korth Super Sport Revolvers, Wilson Combat EDC X9s, Beretta 92FS Fusions…” 

“Okay, I get it—you’ve got a lot of guns, babe,” you cut in, scanning the dimly lit space. It's rough, but you can tell he tried to make it somewhat livable.

“Thank you! I could’ve gone on forever.” He drapes an arm around your shoulders and walks you over to an area closed off by a curtain. With a flourish, he pulls it back, and your heart melts. “I-it’s not exactly home, but…”

You see that Wade has recreated your shared bed from home—favorite blankets, pillows, and even the sheets you love so much. The walls are decorated with photos of the two of you, Polaroids capturing goofy selfies and candid moments.

“Wade, are those my tits?!” you screech, pointing at a very questionable Polaroid.

“Whoops! No idea how that got there,” he says, ripping it off the wall and shoving it into his back pocket. “Let’s replace it.” He grabs another photo and sticks it up—a shot of his bare dick. 

“Half-mast,” he says with a smirk, patting the photo. “So you don’t miss me when I’m gone.” With that, he dramatically flops onto the bed, blankets billowing up around him.

“What do you mean, ‘when you’re gone?’” you ask, your voice softening as you slide onto the bed next to him, immediately resting your head on his chest. His arm wraps around you instinctively, pulling you closer in that familiar, protective way. Beneath the layers of humor and bravado, there’s always been something deeper with Wade—something he doesn’t say out loud.

He hesitates for a moment, his usual playful banter faltering. “Oh, you know... just in case I have to run out and save the world or do something *really* heroic, like buying more chimichangas. Super serious stuff.” His voice lightens, but you can tell there’s more beneath the surface, the words left unsaid.

You gently trace your fingers over the zipper of his hoodie, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. “Wade...”

He sighs, the weight of the moment catching up to him. “Look, babe. We both know the world’s gone to hell. I mean, have you seen outside? It’s a total dumpster fire out there.” His fingers absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair as he talks. “And in my line of work, well, there’s a pretty high chance I’ll have to go out there, guns blazing, and… you know, maybe not come back. But don’t worry, I’ll leave you the last chimichanga. It’ll probably be stale, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to make light of the situation, but there’s a knot tightening in your chest. “You’re not going anywhere without me,” you mumble into his suit, holding him tighter. The idea of losing Wade, even in this chaotic, end-of-the-world scenario, is a thought you don’t want to entertain.

“Aw, babe, you know I’d never leave you behind. I mean, who else would make sure I don’t do something stupid like try to fight a sentient toaster again? You’re basically my safety net.” He grins, trying to break the tension, but his eyes give him away—there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable there.

The space around you, dimly lit by the flickering lights of the bunker, feels oddly intimate in this moment. You look around at the effort he’s put into this hideaway—the mismatched sheets that remind you of home, the Polaroids plastered on the walls, capturing your life together. Even the ridiculous weapons display on the far wall feels like an odd testament to how much he wants to protect you, how much he’s planned for every possible disaster.

“I didn’t just build this bunker for me, you know,” Wade murmurs, his voice unusually soft. “It was always about you. Us. I didn’t want to drag you into all my… crazy, but look at us now. Dystopian lovebirds, right?” He chuckles, but there’s a certain warmth behind his words.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out together—whatever ‘saving the world’ means today.” You reach up, cupping his face, feeling the rough texture of his skin beneath your fingertips, a reminder of all he’s been through. All the battles, the scars, and the fact that despite everything, he’s still here with you.

Wade gazes at you for a long moment, his usual bravado melting away as he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too good for me, you know that?” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You smirk. “Maybe. But you’ve got great taste in blankets,” you tease, pulling the fluffy fabric around you both, cocooning yourselves in warmth.

He chuckles, his arm tightening around you as he settles back into the pillows. “Damn straight. If the world’s gonna end, at least we’ll be cozy, right?” There’s a brief pause before he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Also, not to brag, but I do look fantastic in a unicorn onesie.”

You burst out laughing, the heaviness of the conversation lifting just a little, and Wade grins, clearly proud of himself for making you laugh.

“Okay, okay,” you say between giggles, “but seriously, we’re sticking together, right? No going off and playing hero without me.”

He nods, his expression softening as he strokes your hair. “You got it, babe. No solo hero gigs. We’re in this whole ‘dystopia survival’ thing together.” 

You let out a content sigh, resting your head back on his chest as his heartbeat thrums steadily beneath you. “Good,” you whisper, closing your eyes and savoring the moment of peace. Despite the world falling apart outside, in this little bunker, wrapped up with Wade, you feel safe.

“Besides,” he adds, his voice back to its usual playful tone, “how could I possibly leave when you’ve got a *killer* set of boobs and a healthy appreciation for my half-mast photos? I’d be an idiot.”

You groan, smacking his chest lightly, but you’re smiling, and that’s all Wade wants right now. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, but your heart is light again.

“And yet, you love me,” he quips, leaning down to kiss you on the top of your head. “So, unicorn onesie or Hello Kitty undies tomorrow? Gotta plan for our next ‘post-apocalyptic fashion show.’” You laugh but don’t say anything, instead just toying with the fabric on his chest. 

As you both lay there, wrapped up in the makeshift comfort of the bunker, the moment feels almost peaceful. But deep down, you know it’s only temporary. The world outside is falling apart, and Wade—despite all his jokes and deflections—has his part to play in it. 

“Hey, babe…” Wade’s voice cuts through the quiet, a note of seriousness creeping back in. “About that whole ‘not going anywhere without you’ thing?” His hand absentmindedly traces patterns on your back as he speaks.

You tense, instinctively knowing where this is going. You lift your head, looking up at him, your face inches from his. “Wade…”

“I know, I know,” he says quickly, trying to keep it light. “But, I gotta head out for a bit. You know, just a quick, heroic, ‘save the day’ kinda thing. Be back in a jiffy.” He tries to throw in a wink, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the attempt at humor. 

“How long?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard not to feel the weight of the moment.

“Not long. A few days, tops,” he replies, sitting up and gently pulling you with him. “Just gotta check in with some ‘less friendly’ neighbors, make sure the whole ‘end of the world’ thing doesn’t get even worse.” His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“You always have a plan,” you say with a half-smile, trying to sound reassuring.

“Damn right I do,” Wade grins, but it’s softer this time. He pulls you in for a kiss, lingering just a little longer than usual. When he pulls back, his eyes are serious again. “Hey, I’ll call. Every night. Promise.”

You nod, trying to push down the unease rising in your chest. “You better.”

He kisses you once more, then with a quick, exaggerated salute, he hops off the bed, grabbing his weapons and gear in a flurry of movement. “I’ll be back before you know it. Save me some of those Raisin Bran boxes, will ya? Don’t go hogging all the cereal.”

With one last glance back at you, he’s out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bunker.

A Few Days Later

The first few days without Wade pass slowly, the silence in the bunker oppressive without his constant banter and chaos to fill it. You’ve been waiting for his calls, clinging to the brief moments of contact, even if all you get is his voice crackling over the speaker.

And then tonight—finally—your phone buzzes. You grab it immediately, heart skipping a beat when you see his name flash across the screen. You pick up, the sound of his voice instantly soothing the tension you didn’t realize you’d been carrying.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” he purrs through the line, his voice lower and rougher than usual. “Miss me?”

“Maybe a little,” you tease, leaning back against the pillows, letting the warmth of his voice wash over you. “How’s the whole ‘saving the world’ thing going?”

“Ugh, overrated. Lots of running, shooting, not nearly enough hot dog carts. But let’s not talk about that. What’re you wearing?” His voice dips into that playful, flirtatious tone, and you can practically hear the smirk through the phone.

“Wade,” you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. “I’m literally in one of your Hello Kitty onesies.”

There’s a pause, then a low, appreciative whistle. “Now that’s a visual. Wish I could see it, babe.” His voice deepens, taking on that familiar, sultry edge. “But I guess we’ll have to get creative, huh?”

Your pulse quickens at the change in his tone, warmth spreading through you as the playful conversation takes a turn. “Oh yeah? What exactly do you have in mind, Wade?”

“Well,” he drawls slowly, “I may not be there in person, but I’m pretty sure I can still make you squirm. What do you say we have a little fun, babe? You, me, and a whole lot of imagination…”

The spark between you flares to life, and as his voice wraps around you, you find yourself sinking into the moment, ready to close the distance between you—if only for a little while.

Your heart races as Wade’s voice lingers on the line, playful yet dark, and you can already tell where this is headed. The tension between you two, even across a phone, is undeniable.

“So, babe,” Wade purrs, his voice low and suggestive, “tell me… are you touching yourself yet?”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his directness. “Already jumping to the good part, huh?”

“Well, time’s a-tickin’ and I’ve got bullets to dodge, but I always make time for you. Besides,” his tone dips, slow and deliberate, “if I were there right now, I’d already have my hands all over you.”

Your breath catches a little, the way he says it making your pulse quicken. You lean back against the pillows, the soft fabric of the onesie brushing against your skin, but your thoughts are far from the cute outfit.

“Oh yeah? What exactly would you do, Wade?” you ask, your voice dropping a little, wanting to draw out the game just a bit longer.

His low chuckle vibrates through the phone. “First, I’d unzip that onesie of yours, real slow, because damn, I bet you look so sexy in it. I’d start at the top, pull that zipper down until it’s just barely clinging to your shoulders. I wanna see that skin, baby.”

You bite your lip, following his lead, your fingers trailing down the zipper of the onesie just as he describes. The fabric parts, revealing your chest, and even though Wade isn’t here, the image he’s painting is so vivid, it feels like he is.

“Are you doing it?” he asks, his voice husky with need. “Tell me what you’re feeling, babe. I wanna hear you.”

“I am,” you murmur, your voice soft, already feeling your body respond to his words. “The onesie’s almost off… feels good.”

“Mmm, I bet it does,” Wade groans through the line. “Now slide that thing off your shoulders, let it fall down your arms. God, I wish I was there, helping you out of it. I’d be kissing every inch of that skin, so fucking slow.”

You slip the onesie off, letting it pool around your waist as your fingers graze your bare skin. The way Wade’s voice dips into that raw, hungry tone sends a thrill through you, and you close your eyes, imagining him there, hovering above you, his rough hands tracing over your body.

“Are you touching yourself yet?” His voice takes on that teasing lilt again. “I need details, babe. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Your hand moves instinctively, trailing over your breasts, feeling your skin warm under your own touch. “Yeah, Wade,” you whisper, your breath a little shaky. “I’m touching myself.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “You know what I’d be doing right now? I’d be right there, kissing your neck, working my way down to those perfect tits. I’d take my time, sucking on those nipples until you’re begging for more.”

A soft moan escapes you, and you know he heard it because his laughter on the other end of the line is thick with satisfaction. “There’s my girl,” he breathes. “God, I love making you squirm. Are you wet for me yet?”

Your body reacts to the words, the heat spreading through you. “Yeah… I am.”

“Good,” Wade says, his voice low and gravelly. “Now, slip your hand between those legs. I want you to touch yourself the way I would. Make it slow, babe. Imagine it’s my fingers on you, working you just the way you like it.”s

You do as he says, your hand slipping lower, your body already aching for more. His words, that deep, dirty tone, only fuel the fire burning inside you.

“Fuck, babe, you have no idea how bad I want to be there. I’d have you spread out on that bed, legs wide open for me. I’d start by teasing you, just like this… soft touches, barely there, making you crave it until you can’t take it anymore.”

Your breath hitches as your fingers move, mimicking his words, teasing yourself, and imagining his hands instead of yours. The tension coils tighter with each movement.

“Wade,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, “I need more.”

“Oh, you need more?” His voice is all taunting pleasure. “You gotta tell me, babe. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, the words slipping out before you can stop them, your body already on fire.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you can practically hear him adjusting himself on the other end of the line. “God, I’d slide into you so slow. You’d feel every inch of me, stretching you, filling you up. I’d make you scream my name, babe.”

You moan softly, your fingers pressing deeper, following the rhythm he’s setting, your mind lost in the fantasy of him inside you.

“You close, babe?” Wade’s voice is hoarse, filled with desire. “I wanna hear you come. I wanna hear you fall apart for me.”

You’re right on the edge, the heat pooling low in your belly, your body tightening with every stroke, every dirty word falling from his lips. “I’m so close,” you gasp, your voice breathless, trembling.

“Good girl,” he growls, his voice dark and commanding. “Come for me, baby. Let go. I wanna hear every fucking sound you make.”

And that’s all it takes. Your body shudders as the release washes over you, your moans filling the quiet of the bunker as you ride out the waves of pleasure, your fingers slowing, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Wade groans through the phone, clearly turned on by the sounds of your pleasure. “God, I wish I was there to see that. You’re so fucking sexy, babe.”

You lie there, spent and flushed, the heat still lingering in your veins, your chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of the orgasm. “Wade,” you murmur, smiling despite the exhaustion. “That was…”

“Epic? Mind-blowing? Something you’ll want to do again tomorrow night?” he offers with a chuckle, his tone lighter now but still thick with affection.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “All of the above.”

“Good,” he says, the smirk evident in his voice. “Now get some rest, babe. I’ll be back soon. And then we can pick up where we left off… in person.”

You can’t help but grin, already looking forward to it. “You better come back in one piece.”

“I’ll try my best,” he teases. “But if not, I’ll always have my half-mast pic to keep you company.”

“But you know I need more,” you tease, a playful edge in your voice.

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, then Wade’s voice drops, lower and rougher. “Oh, trust me, babe. When I get back, you’re getting all of me. No holding back.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart warming at the promise in his tone. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he purrs, “because I plan on giving you a lot more than just pictures when I’m done here. Stay safe, babe. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Stay safe, Wade,” you reply softly, feeling the warmth of his words even through the distance.

“I will. Now get some sleep… and dream of me.” There’s a pause, followed by a mischievous laugh. “And maybe that half-mast pic.”

You laugh softly, feeling lighter despite the ache of him being away. “Goodnight, Wade.”

“Night, babe,” he says, his voice soft and sincere for a moment before the line goes quiet. “My Sweet Sexy Apocalypse Babycakes.”

As the phone call ends, you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, already counting down the hours until he returns. The world outside may be falling apart, but somehow, in moments like this, it feels a little less daunting.

---

a/n: i luv feedback (GIVE IT TO ME)

[hazelfoureyes]

The SafeWord is RadioApple (a tidbit epilogue to part 3)

@readergirlstuff

You rested your cheek on the bar, hangover in full effect but the cool wood was calming the headache.

“Sooo, who wears the pants in this triangle of horrors.” Angel leaned back against the bar, watching Lucifer and Alastor glare at each other from separate armchairs.

“Now that’s a dumb question.” Husk shook his head.

“Okay if it’s so obvious then you tell me.”

Husk put his hands up defensively, “Not stupid because it’s obvious, but because only an idiot would piss off the cruelest overlord and the king of hell with one sentence.”

“The king is always going to come out on top.” Luci smiled directly at Alastor.

“Funny, you spent your night on your back.” Alastor rose his newspaper to block out the view of Luci.

“Who am I to deny one of my people the chance to serve their majesty?”

Alastor cackled, wiping tears from his eyes, “Serve? You were literally begging for my-“

“YOU ASKED ME TO!” Horns fully grown, on his feet.

“You sounded like you meant it.” Alastor’s body grew to twice his size, antlers hitting the bar’s overhang as static cut in and out of his voice.

“Enough! Shh. Quiet.” You pulled a napkin over your head to block out the bright lights. “I need you both to shut the fuck up for like, 5 minutes.”

Both men stilled, returning to their seats. Lucifer scrolled on his phone, sheepish. Alastor returned to his paper.

Angel tapped the bar, “Not so obvious, was it, whiskers.”

“Damn.” Husk shook his head.

“Kiss kiss love you sorry,” you offered, a pang of guilt for being so rude to them. Especially in front of others. You knew you’d have to make amends later.

Lucifer perked up, eyes wide and shining, “did you say-?”

Alastor’s smile nearly dropped, an unseen audience awwing over the radio static as he accidentally ripped the newspaper in half, “what was that now?”

Fuck.

A little tidbit of:

⟢Lucifer x Reader x Alastor - The Safeword is RadioApple smut💦

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

3/30 Just realized I didn’t tag the cult and this will be referenced in the next part soooo

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions