#a quick break from the que of pictures

[sainzproductions]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 ⋆ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳

THE OTHER WOMAN / SEQUEL !

where you acclimate to the current dating scene after eight years of being with carlos...

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You felt like you had done a good job all by yourself. You took your sweet time getting used to being alone again, having spent the better part of the past decade accompanying carlos and living together with him.

As embarassing as it was to admit, there were days where you'd wake up abruptly as if hearing his footsteps, or the faint rumble of his voice lulling you to sleep. There were moments where you'd break down crying upon seeing an article of clothing belonging to carlos, or seeing pictures when you were still happily together.

It wasn't easy to forget an eight year relationship. You soon realized. He was all you've ever known and adored... You dreamt a life with the guy for crying out out loud!

You wanted all the permanent things, the domestic future, him.

But the reality was that you were different people who wanted starkly different things in life. Carlos was set on his career while you had the burden of being a woman. You didn't have forever to waste away, and you didn't want to spend it waiting for a future that could never be in the stars for you and him.

You had accepted it. It wasn't all tears, and tearful reminiscing anyways. Your life had picked up after a couple of weeks. It was a lie. You spent a month and a half being pathetic. But who was counting?

You were having the time of your life. Your singleness provided a way for you to realize new and old hobbies.

You finally went back to your hometown, despite your fears of facing your parents' knowing looks and getting an ill timed i told you so's from their ever skeptic way of seeing life. Especially your relationship with Carlos..

But your mother took one look at you; in your deshieveled and devastated form, wordlessly opening her arms and craddling your pathetic self as you wept about your broken heart.

You found peace in the tranquility of your childhood home. Reacquainting yourself with your horse, champion whom you had been neglecting— you realize belatedly. The help couldn't take the horses out that much, where you formerly took the stallion out for most of the day. You made sure to make up for lost time however.

You were also able to rekindle old friendships, quickly becoming fast friends once again as if no time had passed at all. You traipsed all over Madrid, enjoying the thrill of meeting new people, of learning new things... And how forward the current dating scene seemed to be in regards to matters concerning...

"Wait, wait." You press a hand towards his broad chest, breathing roughly. Your chest rose and fell with excitement as you tried to come down from how fast the things had quickly become heated between the two of you. "We're going a bit too fast, don't you think?" You whine under your breath, as his face came down to press open mouthed kisses on your neck, easily finding your most sensitive spot as he expertly manouvers your body, backing you up against the wall.

"Relax. We won't do anything you don't want." He says, softening his tone, "I'm not a hooligan." He tuts, pressing a feather like kiss on the side of your lips.

"Says the man who pulled me into a dark room to play tonsil tennis." You retort amusedly, stroking your fingers on his neck. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the sensation of his lips against your skin, his fingers making quick work of slipping under your skirt, and you hissed from the sensation of his cold rings against your thighs, "You're cold!"

"Warm me up then, love." He was evidently amused by your reactions and the way your cheeks flushed at his crude remark. He wiped away every other thought from your mind, as he kisses you wantonly. He made sure to hold your gaze as he pulls away, sinking down to his knees... and kissing your thighs softly. "Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I couldn't think of anything else when you walked into the room. Nobody else mattered but you... you're bad for my business, darling."

You could hardly register anything else after that

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

The breakup came with the long forgotten territory of male attention. Sure, there were some bold and uncaring lads few and far between, but Carlos had quickly shut down every attempt with a swift glare and a possesive hand over you. You didn't mind. You only needed him and his attention and everyone else were merely annoying backnoise.

As it is, your breakup was made public through the urging of Carlos' management and his public relations team. You cooperated seamlessly despite being civil, to the point of rudeness, to their every demand.

How ironic was it that through his blatant act of wanting to separate himself from you and everything else that had to do with you; he made a declaration to the world that you were readily available.

Your dms were sure packed to the brim when you'd later had the energy to do anything asides from the basic tasks of taking care of yourself. You couldn't laugh nor cry upon seeing several of carlos' work acquaintances making their presence known in your dms. You even saw his former (and possibly current) teammates taking their shot.

You couldn't help but wonder for how long has he been... Non committal towards his best mates about your real score. They couldn't possibly muster up the courage had it been the true duration of your separation. Men aren't that proactive. They atleast had some base sense of loyalty.

Then again, it didn't take very long for him to be spotted with some model on his arm. He looked happy, invigorated... Annoyingly handsome. Fuck him and his perfect face. You wished you atleast threw a heel at him for being a dickwad.

Were you seeing other people out of spite or trying to prove yourself to him? You wouldn't exactly say so. You'd had an agreement with the well established, and good looking gentleman who had made you tremble and writhe under his tongue. He was incredibly lax and cool, and great company in every sense of the word. He made you laugh, he also made you cry just now.

And so while you made yourselves look presentable, you were first out the door while he waited a few minutes to make his entrance into the party again. You gratefully took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wetting your parched throat as you looked around as normally as you could. Blending in with the fancy people in their cocktail dresses and designers.

You heard footsteps approaching after a few moments. Another man spotted him, and he grinned in recognition upon the sight of the ever famous....

"Sir Hamilton!"

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1 of who knows how many parts :)

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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

The heavy sound of rain flood the streets of Nueva York. The dim street lights felt faded as the mist blocked their glow. Despite the downpour that washed the streets, the stench of blood still lingered. A foul odor that could never truly be cleaned from this city.

Nueva York was riddled with crime. Each part of the city was owned and govern by their own mafia. Drugs, alcohol and fights were always a topic and always a cause to stay indoors. Only the smart stayed away from the mafia. They were the ones to survive this city unscathed. They were the ones to avoid trouble.

You had just moved into the city, unaware of its true face, nor did you really have a choice. You were desperate to get away from your old life. Despite for a fresh start. So much so, that you landed in one of the worst parts of the city. The place you rented was small, but it was enough to keep you hidden.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you near cried at the sight of a roach. Tears threaten to spill as you sprayed the roach spray against the foul creature for dear life. You had just moved into the place. You were warned by your friends and family of the filth of the city, but they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain you were in.

"Ew, ew!" You whined as you grabbed the broom, throwing the roach away.

Once you were freed from that horrid task, you continued to clean and unpack. You double checked everything for roaches and mice, wanting to sleep soundly for once. You shuddered at the thought as you pulled out old photographs of your high school days. Within those pictures was the cause of your depature.

Your ex.

You had fled your hometown due to your abusive ex-boyfriend, Eddie Brock. The man was so kind to you at first, treating you well until you officially started dating. Your college life was cut short due to his beatings and yelling. You were always at fault. You could never be good enough for him. You were always the problem.

The thought made you sob. You moved to this city on a whim thanks to your small job. You just wanted to stop living in that hell. Everyone loved your ex. They never truly saw what he was. They never even asked how you were.

"I-I need to s-stop crying." You whispered to yourself as you looked out the window, "I-I have work tomorrow. I...I need to be ready."

-----------

Meanwhile, a few blocks over, Miguel was sitting before his large patio, watching the rain. He held a glass of vodka in his hand, watching the lightening brighten the sky more than the city lights itself. He inhaled to the loud roar of thunder before being interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Que? (What)" He hissed lowly. Lyla smiled as she walked over with a folder, placing them on his desk,

"Just something for the morning." She chirped and approached the door, "There's another one waiting outside. Shall I send her in?"

"Ha, and get some fake praises. She can only come in if she wants a quick fuck. I won't deal with gold diggers." Miguel grumbled.

Lyla just hummed in response before shutting the door. Miguel could only groan in annoyance as he placed his glass down. His night would have been better off alone. Closing the blinds to his patio, Miguel approached his desk to the file. It was going to be another long day tomorrow.

---------

There was a scurry to your step as you tried to please your new boss. It was your first day working in the chain supermarket, and you were stressed. This version of your old job was far busier, louder and ruder than what you were used to. You were a shy and quiet person, so having so many people yell and pull you around was breaking you.

"(Y/N)! Deli needs a hand, you ever did that?" One of your coworkers asked. You flinched at the sudden yell,

"I-I have helped packaged an-"

"Good enough, go help and put a kick in it!"

You just agreed and hurried to the deli. You grabbed a hair net and gasped lowly at your fellow coworkers there. They were all so tall and mean looking. You were like a deer in headlights the moment they saw you enter their kitchen. You just bowed your head slightly and quietly made your way to the meat wrapping station.

"Why'd they put her here? She don't know anything yet," One of the taller men whispered. You're ears perked up since whispers weren't exactly in their volcabulary,

"She's a scaredy cat. Ain't nothing comin' outta her mouth. Same like the rest of us,"

You wanted to ask them what they were talking about, but you were too scared to find out. That, and you learned the harsh lesson of minding your own business. Dear ol' Eddie gave you that cruel lesson. Shaking your head at the thought, you didn't want to be known as the employee who cried on their first day.

"Hey, new kid," One of your coworkers called out, approaching you, "Yer new here, so let me warn you. We got three freezers in the deli. One is full of the fresh meat we get. Leave that to us big guys. You can enter the second freezer with the small cuts for the customers. The third freezer, you never enter. Don't ask questions about it. Don't peak into it. Just pretend it never exists. Oh, and don't make eye contact with those who enter it."

"Okay,"

Hell fucking no. You were going to stay far away from dear freezer number three. That was a lot more information than you even wanted to hear. Hell, you weren't a fan of entering freezer number two. Once your coworkers were reassured by your understanding, they returned to work.

Your hands trembled over your station as you tried to focus on your job with the seven men yelling around you. This was your sad new life. You had to get used to this. You were either going to make it in the city or die trying.

--------

Miguel lazily glanced out his window seat, spotting the upcoming supermarket. There was a rumble in his throat as he leaned back in his seat. His men tailing behind him in different cars. Miguel told his driver to stop, wanting to walk the rest of the way while his men parked around back.

"Peter, take our guest into the freezer. I'm going to make a pit stop at the deli," Miguel said over the phone.

"Miguel, we talked about this. You're the boss, let us handle the work." Peter tried reasoning over the phone.

Miguel wasn't even paying attention. He hung up and proceeded to enter the supermarket. His presence alone made the managers cower and the workers silent. Of course, none of the regular customers knew anything. None of them suspected that he, Miguel O'Hara, CEO of Alchemax, was the leader of the Spider Mafia. One of the biggest and ruthless mafia in town.

"The usual?" One of the deli men questioned. Miguel glanced over his shoulder, noticing you shaking like a leaf while avoiding your coworkers,

"And they say I'm cruel. New hire?"

"Transfer from out of town," The man replied.

Miguel raised a brow towards you. You were pale in the face as you apologized for getting in people's way. Miguel couldn't help but snort. It was cute. Something he was not used too. Returning his attention to the deli worker, Miguel could only smirk as he watched his men drag their guest into freezer number three.

"The bird needs to be plucked." Was all Miguel said for the man to understand.

-------

You whimpered softly as you moved away from everyone's path. It had gotten far too busy for your liking. Once you caught a break, you noticed the deli supervisor talking to a handsome man. You tilted your head, stealing a glance. The man was tall and gorgeous. He wore a slick all black suit. Something very fancy for this part of town.

The man took notice of you and smiled. Your cheeks immediately started to heat up as you quickly returned to your job. As you did, you noticed some men enter the third freezer. You paled instantly. It was your first day! Biting you lower lip, you tried to focus on your work. Right as you did, you noticed the handsome man from earlier walk by you and towards the freezer,

"Keep up the good work, conejita (bunny)." He whispered.

You felt your heart race as the door shut. His voice was so deep and low. If only he hadn't entered the freezer. Perhaps, you would have gotten to know him as a regular.

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Next Chapter!

[spencerlicious]

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

[spidybaby]

Not sure if your requests are open but I just read ‘baecation’ and need like a fic where the reader goes on tour with him. And the whole dynamic with the reader and the team. Maybe the reader is a bit shy at first because her Spanish isn’t good but the boys are lovely to her and help her and she ends up getting along with them and pedri is there just like 😍😍

The Tour

Summary: A glimpse of the little moment you share with your boyfriend while on Tour.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: I hope you like this 🤠❤️ also @gaviandgrizisgirl hi 🤠🤭

First Stop: LA

"I want a picture with the big Hollywood thing." Katrine says, smiling while you take some pictures of her.

Mikky, Katrine, and you arrived at Los Angeles a day before the team did. That was for more commodity for you.

"I want another coffee, to be honest." You laugh, the jet lag hitting you harder than expected. "Is it okay to break the diet while on vacation?"

"I break it all the time." Mikky says, you narrow your eyes, looking funny at her. "Oh don't give me that look."

"You have an excuse to break it. You're eating for two." Katrine says, taking her phone from your hands to check the pictures.

You were answering your messages, Pedro updating you about where they're, based on the map from the plane.

"Don't you think, Y/n?" Mikky asks you. You block the phone and pay attention to her. "Did you hear me?" She asks sweetly.

"No, sorry." You say, laughing lightly. "I was texting Pedro." You smile.

"Oh, sweet, young love." Katrine laughed. "I remember those times."

"What I was asking." Mikky says, grabbing your attention again. "Frenkie, Andreas, Katrine, and I are renting a house here, and at the other locations. We wanted to ask if you and Pedro wanted to stay with us."

You wanted to say yes, loving the four of them, always having fun times together. But Pedro already rented a nice space for you to stay together.

"I want to say yes, but Pedro booked a place for us to stay." You say with a pout. "We can meet for some activities."

After the quick coffee break you had, you went to check some stores, passing time till the boys landed.

When the time finally came and the boys landed and were at the hotel, you knew they got there as a cover-up, Xavi, and the team knew they'll stay with their family.

"Hola, guapa." Pedro says, lifting you up while hugging you. "I missed you." He thighs his grip on your body.

"Pepi, we saw each other like twenty-five hours ago." You laugh, kissing his neck. Hands on his hair, messing his hair.

"Jolin, se despidieron ayer y estan acuando como si hubiera pasado una vida" (Fuck, you said goodbye to each other yesterday and now you're acting like it's been a life time.) Pablo laughed, making you and Pedro laugh too. "Ven acá, guapa." (Come here) He says, opening his arms for you to hug him.

You hug him, not long after Ferran was saying hi to you. "Es que te tenemos que hablar en inglés? Joder que yo soy pésimo." (Do we have to speak with you in english? Fuck, I suck at that.)

"No, yo puedo hablar español." (No, I can speak spanish.) You laugh nervous. Your Spanish isn't the best, so you knew it was going to be a shit show if they decided to speak only Spanish.

"Entonces, cuentame." (So, tell me) Ferran says, you look over at Pedro, he's smiling, loving how his friends are messing with you. "Cómo fue el vuelo hasta acá?" (How was the flight?) He asks you.

You smiled and stared at him for a good five seconds. You open your mouth, but your mind isn't fully working. "Era. Umm. Bueno, muy relajante, si." You smile proud. (😀)

Gavi and Ferran looked at each other. You wanted to disappear because you knew that was so bad. "That's amazing. Relaxing, yes, good, yes. Amazing." Ferran says.

You happily high-five them, you knew you weren't the best but they not laughing made a difference.

"Pepi, I did it." You hug him happy. He hugs you back, kissing the top of your head. "Let's go, adiós chicos." You wave them goodbye.

You both go down the basement where the car was waiting for you. When you arrive at the house, Pedri loves the view, the golden sunset looking beautiful, making the whole place look like out of a movie.

"I know you can't eat junk food, but." You say walking to the oven, you FaceTime Rosy, asking her to help you on each step of the way, making her famous croquettes for him. "I try my best, not sure if it's good." You laugh.

"No way." He hurries next to you, trying one. "Fuck." He says, eyes rolling back. He's been resistant in order to keep his diet, missing the glorious food of his mom. "This is amazing."

You pose your hands on his shoulders, massaging the stress of the flight. "You want to know what else I did?" You whisper in his ear.

He humms at the feeling on his shoulders, relaxing him. "Hmh?" He mumbs.

"I prepared a bath for us, wanna go relax a little?" You kiss his neck, hugging him.

He turns around, kissing you, thankful for all you've done for him. "Let's go." He says smiling.

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Second stop: Dallas

"Hay un dicho, dicen que si te pones el sombrero te montas al vaquero." (there's a say, if you wear the hat you get to ride the cowboy) Pedri joked, placing the cowboy hat on you. "And you're wearing it."

"What does montar mean? And what does sombrero mean?" You ask, confused. He wanted to burst out laughing, finding you adorable. "Don't make that face. Tell me." You pout.

"I meant that there's a say, if you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy." He winks at you. You smile, blushing a little now that you understand why he placed the hat on you.

"I will, but this cowboy has to wait till we're home." You kiss him. "Now let's go pick our horse." You grabbed his hand, hurried to get to where the horses are.

Pedro took you to this horse riding place, knowing that you wanted to do that.

Once you picked your horse, Pedro decided that you ride alone, wanting for you to have the whole experience. But also riding other horse to go with you.

"I wanna sing Hannah Montana." You say, moving your shoulders at the rhythm of the song playing in your head. "You're always find a way back home" you sing loudly.

Pedro took pictures of you. The love gaze he has over you is one that no one can deny. "I don't know any Hannah songs." He confess.

"Imma show you how to dance the Hannah dance from the movie." You told him. The scene already playing in your head.

After the horse riding experience, you both got back to the house. Quickly showering and changing for the outing you had with the team.

"Do you like this outfit?" You're standing in front of the mirror, already questioning if the two piece set was ideal for the night.

You pose for him. If you can take a picture and compare his face to the scene of the movie, the mask, his heart eyes are bigger.

"You look, preciosa." He poses his hands on your hip, "fuck, you look amazing baby." He kiss you tummy, making you blush.

"I was thinking that I was a little but short." You say, messing with his hair. "Don't you think?"

"You can wear whatever you want. If someone says something, I can throw some punches." He jokes, kissing your arms and caressing you hips.

"I love you, mi amor." You kiss the top of his head. You sit on his lap, posing your hands on his cheeks. "I'm so in love with you, Pedro."

You pull him towards you, kissing him. His hands on your hips go down to your ass, squishing it. Making you moan.

"Stop," you say, pulling away, "we have to meet your friends." You kiss him back again after saying that.

"What about you riding the cowboy?" He asks, you want to say he ment that joking, but he wasn't. You knew that if you keep kissing, you both will end up between the sheets and not at the club with the rest. "Please." He begged you.

You push him back to the bed. "I guess they won't miss us for a few minutes." You start to unbutton his shirt. "Don't you think?" You say kissing his neck. Earning a moan as an answer.

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Last Stop: Las Vegas

"I want to start pole dance," you joke, hand in hand with your boyfriend. "Will you let me pole dance you?" You ask him.

His face was a poem, he's confused, about to laugh, but wanted to remind serious. "I take all the dancing you want me to." He jokes back.

You smile, squishing his hand a little harder. You're at the mall at Las Vegas, searching for something Fer ask you to get for him.

"Did you know that, what happen in Vegas stay in Vegas? You ask him, joking again. "I think we need to do something crazy and have an inside joke."

"So when people ask us, we tell them ~Lo que pasa en las Vegas se queda en las Vegas~?" He joke back at you. "That actually would be cool."

"We all should try this strippers show, and do body shots on each other and then skinny dip in the pool." Ansu interrupts your conversation.

All the boys and you turn your attention to him, he was nodding excited, thinking his idea was the one of a century.

"Or." Mikky says, dragging the attention away from Ansu. "We can go bowling." She smiled.

Everyone agree with her, Ansu on the other side was pouting, mad that his Vegas plan was ruined by some bowling.

"No te enojes." (Don't be mad) You say pinching his cheek. "We can do something crazy after bowling, not that crazy like going to a strip club, but crazy." You shake him by the shoulders.

"Deal." He smiles, going to the other boys to plan something else.

The boys and you create this little friendship were they take care of you, and you take care of them. They liked you and always try to make you the most comfortable.

"I like this for your mom." You say, showing him beautiful ornaments that match her style. "I think the blue one, she likes blue." You think outloud.

"I like blue." He says, kissing you cheek. "But I was thinking this over here." He points at other thing. "Maybe I should get both."

You went to the other side of the store, looking at some pink outfits. You told Pedro that before leaving, you wanted to go to the movies to see Barbie. He brushed it off, so you planned on going with Mikky while he was at training.

"That pink would look so good on you." He says, making you turn back to face him. "So you think it fit me?"

"I think every color is your color." You grab the pink shirt and put it against him to see the contrast. "But this pink is definitely your color." You kiss him.

"Then help me pick one." He grabs your hand, dragging you to the male section of the store. You were confused, knowing he wasn't going to use it more than once.

"Pedro, you're not going to get something you'll only use once." You laugh, about to go back to the women section.

"But I want to match you," he pouts, you laugh at how adorable he looks doing that. "What, you don't want to match with me? How are we supposed to see Barbie if we don't go matching?"

"What?"

"How are we supposed to see Barbie if we don't match?" He repeats.

"We?" You ask, confused. "Are we going to see Barbie?" You smile a little.

"Yes, mi amor." He nods, smiling. "I got us tickets, so after bowling tonight, we're going to do some Barbie with Mikky and Frenkie."

You hug him, loving how he's always paying attention to you and spoiling you. "Eres mi favorito." You say, hugging him.

"I better be." He jokes, hugging you back, making you laugh.

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[mumms-the-word]

Flower Crowns

Pairing: Halsin x F!Tav (Ardynn) Summary: Ardynn and Halsin make flower crowns and they’re cute, that’s it that’s the plot A/N: I don’t have mods so no picture of Halsin with a flower crown sorry :c

Perhaps it was paradoxical to suggest that one could have a day off from saving the world now that they were deeply entrenched in the many problems plaguing Baldur’s Gate. But after a few days of trying to find friends, fighting Bhaalists and Banites and hags and everything in between, Ardynn simply needed one day to herself as a break.

Well…not exactly to herself. She had asked Halsin to come too. But even so, a day away from the city was all she asked.

She couldn’t help but think of it as a kind of date as they left the city behind in the capable hands of their companions and walked, hand in hand, toward the wooded outskirts of the city. They had no real plans, aside from enjoying a day amongst nature. No goals except to lose themselves among the trees and pretend like things were normal and the city wasn’t constantly under threat from all sides. They hadn’t even brought food or supplies with them, content instead to gather berries and nuts where they could find them.

It was perfect, by Ardynn’s standards. She could almost pretend the city wasn’t waiting for them, half-smoldering and full of danger.

By midday, their wandering had turned turned to napping as the heat of the sun drove them into the shade and made them drowsy. Ardynn fell asleep with her head on Halsin’s arm, only to wake up an hour or two later with him snoozing as a bear, the heat of his body almost unbearable. She drew away to cool off her skin with the waters of the Chionthar and took a moment to watch the river flow past.

She let herself daydream for a moment that this was her life, now. Just her and Halsin, out amongst the trees and the river and the flowers. Nothing to do but gather a bit to eat, nap, enjoy each other’s company, and marvel at the world around them. Days like this, it was all too tempting to let the events of the world slip by like a drop of water in a fast-flowing river, passing by unnoticed.

She glanced over her shoulder at Halsin, who continued to sleep as a bear. She smiled to herself as she watched him. She loved him—she’d known that for days now, and her love had only grown in the days since he had shared his body with her and shown her more care and attention and passion than she thought possible—but she’d never tell him, of course. It would have to be a secret she cradled close to her heart, for now.

As she stood to join him again, she noticed several flowers blooming near the banks of the river, and several more in different colors and varieties farther on. A quick glance at Halsin told her he was still asleep, and likely wouldn’t wake for a while yet. Quietly, making use of her ranger stealth, she crept over to the flowers and began gathering them, careful to break their stems near the base and not rustle their petals too roughly.

She settled down near him with an arm full of flowers and slowly, methodically, began to weave and braid them together, a smile still on her lips as she worked. She hadn’t made flower crowns since her last visit to the wood elf clan near her home, during one of their many festivals, and that had been years ago. The first few twists were a little clumsy, but eventually she recalled the steps and was soon weaving flowers in simple braids with ease.

The crown finished, she sat up on her knees and carefully, oh so carefully, placed it on Halsin’s ursine head. The crown wasn’t big enough for a bear, so she simply placed it, crooked, on the top of his head, circling one ear.

Halsin cracked one eye open as she settled back on her haunches. She couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the clever look in his eye.

“And how long have you been awake, Halsin?” she teased, grinning as he made a big show of stretching out his arms and yawning wide, his tongue lolling out. He chose not to even acknowledge her question.

He sat up, looking like a bear in a children’s book with his paws between his half-curled legs, and tilted his head slightly. The flower crown slid off to one side, caught only by his round ear. She giggled as she sat up on her knees again to fix it.

“Careful, my heart,” she said. “You don’t want to lose your gift.”

He looked up, his nose sniffing the air, probably trying to scent the flowers. As she settled back again, he leaned in, pressing his big, wet nose to her cheek and snuffling her skin. She laughed again, his breath ticklish on her cheek, and held his furry face between her hands, mushing his cheeks slightly.

“Does that mean you like it?” she asked. She knew she could cast speak with animals and ask him—she almost always had it ready and active—but the one-sided conversation amused her. He bumped his nose to her cheek again as a response.

She let him go as he sat up, nearly to his full height, and lifted a heavy paw toward his head. He pawed at his ear, as if to adjust the flower crown or preen or something to that effect, but his claw caught one of the loops. As his paw came down, the flower crown broke and fell, half-unraveling, at his feet.

They both looked at it for a second before Halsin quickly transformed, returning to his usual tall, broad self with an already apologetic expression.

“My apologies, my heart,” he said, gathering up the braided flowers. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I know,” she said, smiling. She leaned in to kiss his cheek, enjoying the way his eyes lit up as she did so, and carefully took the flowers from his hands. “Don’t worry, it’s just a simple craft.“

“Will you remake it?” he asked. She looked up, surprised.

“Remake it?” she asked. “Why?”

“You made it for me, did you not?” he asked. “I will wear it, if you like. And I will make one for you to match.”

The idea was simultaneously silly and sweet. Ardynn tried to picture the two of them returning to camp with flower crowns, like children in a village after a day of play. It should be embarrassing, but with Halsin, it seemed as natural as breathing.

And, she had to admit, she was a little enamored with the idea of him wearing something she had made for him.

“Very well,” she said. She handed him the rest of the extra flowers, taking only two for herself to fix his crown. “Because you asked.”

They worked in comfortable silence, Ardynn glancing over every now and again to watch his hands as they braided the flowers. He did so with practiced ease, as though this were something he did often. His braids were strong and intricate, the flowers woven tightly together. In truth, it made her simple crown look clumsy in comparison. She was almost embarrassed when she finally held it up for him to inspect, after several moments of her trying to strengthen it and make it look neater.

“Will this suffice?” she asked. “It’s not nearly as good as—”

But his eyes lit up again and he grinned. “It is beautiful, my heart. As lovely as the hands that made it.” He set the crown he was working on aside and bent his head closer to hers, an open invitation.

Ardynn bit her lip against a smile and placed the flower crown carefully on his head, brushing some of his hair behind his pointed ear as she adjusted the crown to fit. When he lifted his head to gaze at her, their faces only inches apart, she couldn’t help but appreciate how the color of the flowers, all white, yellow, pink, purple, and blue, looked in his earth-toned hair, against his suntanned skin. He was made for flower crowns.

“How do I look?” he murmured, keeping his face near hers.

She didn’t even bother to look at the flower crown again, instead getting lost in his hazel-eyed gaze. “Like a dream that only Mielikki or Silvanus could bless me with.”

He chuckled and closed the distance for a kiss, unable to resist running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. “As sweet as honey, my heart,” he said softly as he pulled away, though whether he meant her words or her lips she wasn’t certain.

He reached for the flower crown he’d been working on and offered it to her. “May I?”

It was a beautiful thing, a work of art. He’d selected white, yellow, and blue and had woven them together in a repeating pattern. In his hands, the flowers seemed almost more alive than when she had picked them, though maybe that was just her affection for him coloring her view rather than him using any druidic power.

“It’s stunning, Halsin,” she said. She scooted closer, nearly knees to knees with him, to let him place it on her head. “Thank you.”

“No need for thanks,” he said, his voice warm and soft. He settled the crown on her head with all the gentle reverence of a groom with a bridal crown. It made Ardynn’s heart race to even think such traitorous thoughts, completely antithetical to Halsin’s views on relationships and partners. But she couldn’t deny the gentleness of his touch or the tenderness in his eyes. He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers, appraising her quietly as she wore his new gift.

“How do I look?” she whispered, caught up once more in his gaze.

“As though all of nature has given its beauty to you,” he murmured back. He chuckled, his smile turning a little crooked. “And that was before the flower crown.”

He leaned in again, capturing her lips with his, and kissed her deeply. She lost herself in that kiss, in the taste of his tongue, still holding hints of the berries and nuts they’d foraged earlier that morning, in the heat of his skin, warmed by the sun, in the scent of the flowers that mingled between them, woven into crowns on their heads. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve the attentions and affections of a man like him, but as long as she had them, she would never take them for granted.

When she finally pulled away, breathless, she saw the flower crown on his head again and giggled. “You’re dangerous in that crown, you know.”

“Am I?” he teased. “Perhaps I ought to wear it to our next battle, then.”

“That’s not what I meant—” she cut herself off as a thought occurred to her. “Wait. Would you?”

“Why not? It is a gift, is it not? Made by skilled hands.” Here he lifted one of her hands to kiss the palm, and then her fingers. “Though I suppose it wouldn’t last a fierce battle, would it?”

“With my mediocre flower crown skills? I’ll be surprised if it lasts the walk back to camp tonight.”

“Then I shall treasure it while it lasts,” he said. “And I would not say no to more flower crowns in the future, should we ever find more time to make them.”

“A future of flower crowns?” Ardynn asked. It seemed so ridiculous, given everything they’d seen and fought and had yet to fight in the city. But the suggestion, the dream, felt as refreshing as a breath of fresh air out here in these woods. It seemed to restore a bit of her spirit, her resolve to fight on. If she could just save the city, then she could have days of making flower crowns for this giant, gentle, wonderful, endearingly sweet man whom she had grown to love. A future with flower crowns…

She took his hand with another smile. “I’d like that, I think.”

He leaned in with an invitation for another kiss, this time letting her come to him. “As would I,” he murmured against her lips. “We shall make it so.”

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Eight

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N x Lando Norris, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre

Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: some smut, mostly in discussion/description. 18+

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

You spent the rest of Wednesday night relaxing in your hotel room. Starting to unpack and hanging your dress up for the event, your phone chimed.

When you checked it, it was Lando, replying to the text he had sent himself.

Smiling to yourself, you weren’t sure how you ended up with a date to tomorrow nights event but you figured if it had to be anyone at least he wasn’t a stranger. Besides Y/N Best Friend would be with Pierre, so you would have someone to talk to besides her.

————————————————————————

Thursday

Thursday morning went by quickly. You had opted to not attend media day. Pierre wasn’t on a panel and instead had individual interviews and team video shoots so there was no need to watch them.

You also took a few work calls, responding to some emails that came in throughout the day. While you had taken the day off, your boss only agreed if you were willing to participate in the two morning meetings. By midday, you were finally free to relax.

Stepping out of you room, you pushed the down button for the elevator. You’d skipped breakfast due to the time change but we’re starving and needed to pick up lunch.

As the doors opened, you saw a familiar face in the elevator.

“Hola Y/N. No sabiá que estabas aquí.” (I didn’t know you were here)

“Hola Carlos. It was kind of a last minute thing.”

“We’ll it’s great to see you. Are you going to the sponsor event tonight?”

“I am. Lando’s picking me up at 7:30.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” He laughingly replied.

Unsure of what he meant, you gave him a confused look.

“Lando told Oscar and I that he had a date last night. We wondered what poor soul he convinced and why he was so happy, but it makes sense that it would be you.”

“Oh uh yeah. We ran into each other last night and he asked.”

“Well I’ll see you tonight.” He replied, before stepping out of the elevator.

He made his way to the front desk, while you continued to the front doors. As you stepped outside you were greeted by a large crowd behind a barrier. Someone must have leaked the drivers hotel. As you pushed through the crowd to try and get to the small bistro you had seen on the way in last night, you were surprised to hear someone scream your name.

“Y/N! Can I get a picture?”

Unsure of what to do or why someone would want a picture with you, you turned and saw a fan in a Ferrari shirt waving at you. Confused you walked up and took a quick selfie. Was this because of that wag post a few weeks ago? You noticed a few other people taking photos of you as you chatted with the girl about the race weekend, before wrapping up and continuing on.

You placed your order to go from the bistro, heading back to the hotel to eat in your room and relax before you needed to get ready. As you sat down to eat and scroll through your phone, you got an Instagram notification that you were tagged in a photo.

Opening the app you saw that you had once again made the wag Instagram. It wasn’t your best picture, makeup free and hair undone, but you hadn’t expected anyone to care about you.

Is this what it’s always like for Y/N Best Friend you thought? You couldn’t escape the stupid wag pages and you weren’t even seeing anyone.

————

Lance sat in the car on the way back to the hotel from media day. The break had been nice, but he was ready to be back behind the wheel. Zandvort wasn’t his favorite track, but it certainly wasn’t his least favorite either.

As he sat in backseat of the car, driving the 30km or so back to the hotel, he thought back to the night before. When he arrived at the hotel from the airport, he had seen Y/N. After their hookup before the break, he had expected that to be the end of their interactions. He’d never seen her at a race before that week, so he figured he wouldn’t any time soon.

But to see her getting out of the car with Norris was a shock. While he hadn’t reached out to her after the hookup, she also hadn’t reached out to him. The last thing he expected though was for her to be dating someone already. It had to be serious if they had arrived together, but with less than a month for the break, he questioned how quickly that happened.

He had spent the next week replaying the night over in his mind. And every time a girl flirted with him on break, he couldn’t help but compare her to Y/N. Had she really thought so little of the night that she could move on immediately? During their game at the after party she had said she’d never slept with a driver. Sure Norris has mean’t the question about Pierre when he asked it, but that also mean’t she hadn’t slept with Lando either.

He knew first hand that there was a lot more to hookups besides sex. Just because she hadn’t fucked him didn’t mean she couldn’t have kissed him. Or sucked his dick. And as the thought of her getting on her knees for Norris crossed his mind, the tiniest hint of jealousy bleed through. He had missed out of the chance of that. Missed out on watching those big brown eyes look up at him while he fucked into her mouth. Missed out on watching her swallow down his cum.

He didn’t know much about Norris, but he seemed to have some charm. Lance had seen him leave the club with his fair share of women. What if he had the chance to eat her out? That thought sat even worse. He didn’t like the idea of someone else, much less another driver getting to see her like that. Recalling the look of her glazed over eyes when he tucked her in on the couch, he didn’t like the idea that he wasn’t the only one who had seen her like that.

He wasn’t typically a possessive man, but he also didn’t typically interact much with his occasional flings after the fact. He’d been single for awhile, hooking up here or there as he felt like it, girls aware of the situation, that it would be a one time thing. But for someone else to have made a move on what he viewed to have been his first didn’t sit right with him at all. He knew better then to confront either of them, he had no rights. But why was he upset about that?

Opening up Instagram for the first time in a week, he navigated to her profile. She had posted twice during the break, one a casual photo of her and some friends at dinner, the other a photo of her laying out at the beach. He tried to think back to where Norris had said he was spending the break. He said he was going somewhere warm, and he vaguely recalled an Instagram story of him on a jet ski. Had she gone with him?

Flipping through her story she had only two posts up. One of a photo outside the plane window, showing the dark runway at the Amsterdam airport, and one of what he presumed was her lunch from earlier. Neither of those were helpful in the slightest. He’d already started to edge towards creeper territory, so he might as well take it further.

Navigating to her tagged photos, he saw a new one from earlier that day. It showed a zoomed in photo of her on her phone, hair up in one of those messy clips and in a casual outfit, she seemed to be walking down the street. Reading the caption, it confirmed what he already knew. She was staying at the same hotel as all of the drivers.

Esteban had complained earlier to him that his room was next to Pierre and his girlfriend. Apparently the two had been going at it 24/7 for the past few days. Which meant that she hadn’t flown in with them and wasn’t staying with them. So who was she staying with? He didn’t know what she did for work but highly doubted she had forked over the money for overpriced luxury hotel.

Pulling up to the hotel, he exited the car. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he thought about the upcoming sponsor event. He’d have to stop by for at least a few hours to socialize. It wasn’t really Fernando’s thing and someone had to represent the team well. At least they would serve dinner he thought to himself, the food was normally good at these things. As he headed up to his room, he ran through the rest of his weekend, analyzing what his engineer had told him earlier, all thoughts of Y/N leaving his head.

————————————————————————

A/N:

I really appreciate the support I’ve gotten on this story so far. If you guys could continue to like, comment, and reblog I would really appreciate it!

[caffeinetheif]

brothers and/or dateables w/ a ride or die s/c

walmart at 2 am? down. declared the sky is purple? ofc it is what other color could it possibly be man. hit and run? got the Clorox wipes and mechanic on standby

aaaaaa I'm so sorry for the radio silence! Last week was very chaotic lol. This coming week (3/13-3/17) is spring break for me, but I'm working 40 hours so idk how much I'll be active :((.

I had fun writing such a light hearted request, thank u bb.

The Brothers With a Ride or Die MC GN! MC Content Warnings: Mentions of doxing in Levi's, mentions of a creep DMing in Asmo's

Lucifer

Lucifer would be so stressed because of a ride or die MC lol. You're giving him even more grey hairs than he needs. He does appreciate all that you do for him, he just wishes you'd take it down a notch.

He could easily tell his brothers to do something like go get dish soap because it's almost out, but you're already out the door with like four different soap brands on the list.

It gives him an extra reason to spoil you though

Mammon

It's basically a ride or die x ride or die in all honesty. A competition to see who can be the most ride or die, if you will.

He forgets to do a project for class until the night before? You're there helping him. You forget a textbook back at the HoL? Don't worry, he's sprinting back to go get it for you.

He accidentally breaks something? You're getting rid of the evidence and already have a duplicate on stand by (how you do it, Mammon will never know).

Leviathan

I feel that Levi would be more of the ride or die in this relationship, but for the sake of the request, you are. Is he in the middle of a gaming marathon? You keep a supply of water and snacks for him. You make sure he actually eats a full meal, too.

He talks about a new multiplayer game? You buy a copy for yourself to practice playing so you can keep up with him.

He want's to dox someone who dissed Ruri-chan? You're already digging for clues

Satan

Satan mentions a new spell book he found? You're the first to volunteer to be a guinea pig for some of the spells. He appreciates the sentiment, but he'd rather not test questionable spells on is lover

He mentions that he needs to organize his books? You're pulling out a pen and paper to create organization categories and schematics (it'll probably go Year, Subject, Author's last name or something similar).

He'll make you tea as a thank you, but he doesn't notice he used a tea that you snuck into his stash as a surprise.

Asmodeus

Another ride or die x ride or die. This time, instead of trying to out do one another, y'all just feed off of eachother's energy.

You're Asmo's hype person. He'll take you shopping with him and try on outfits. You're there with a camera practically like the paparazzi, taking pictures from all angles for every outfit he tries. He does the same for you. There's a 9/10 chance the two of you will leave with matching outfits.

Asmo mentions that some creep is bothering him on Devilgram? You're finding the fucker and giving that demon some very concerning threats.

Beelzebub

We all know how Beel gets with is food. If he texts you that he's hungry, you're on standby with his favorite snacks. Even during class, you'll leave to do a quick drop off for him

Midnight muchies? Take him to the nearest fast food joint and get him two of everything. He appreciates your eagerness to please, but he worries about your spending habits because of him (sweet boy)

He'll share his food with you as a thank you and offer to pay you back for the money you've spent on him. If you tell him that you don't mind, he'll find a way to repay you.

Belphegor

You're able to pick up on some of his smallest ques and you know what to do to help out. He really does appreciate how you're able to pick up on when his social battery is low and get him out of the situation.

He's notorious for skipping class even though he somehow miraculously passes his classes. Still, you bring him your notes and even send him an audio recording of the lectures you share together, even though it takes up so much space on your DDD.

If you notice he has fallen asleep somewhere that isn't his room or your room, you carry a blanket just for him. You drape it over him as he sleeps and just vibe next to him until he wakes up.

[freshlybakedspiderbread]

tagged by @que-de-metal omg...

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like)

gonna ramble instead of just getting to it if you don't mind... 🦜 I've always had hangups over sharing or talking about the littlest things to do with like, wips, because in my experience i never know what's going to totally scrapped or shelved only to resurface like a year later in a completely different shape. At least for right now, i'm 60-70% this current thing will actually take proper shape soon (I hope :P )...

"And I'd welcome a break from my duties, but..." Kutaka let out a wistful sigh. "The checkpoint needs my watchful eye more than ever, or else every Hell might break loose!"

And i dont really 'draw' but i do recall doodling a spoink really quick on a whim because i was thinking about it. I can't find th epost where I showed it but by some miracle it is still here on this computer

wait i just remembered i think the whim came from me remembering a pokemon card i really liked because it had a really cute picture of spoink on it. It's gone now though ;;;;;;

tagging: ah... I know it sounds kinda fake how every time I say 'nah really anybody who wants to, just go ahead!' because it sounds like I dont actually care to see anyone do so, but Genuinely anybody can feel free 😅

[lightlycareless]

Chapter 28 - thoughts.

Hello again everyone!

Thank you for tuning in for another... behind the scene post :> This time, about this chapter over here (which I totally recommend reading to avoid spoilers!)

It was certainly a ride to write that one, and you'll get to see why in the upcoming paragraphs hehe

Warning: not proof-read, just candid stuff xd

Now, without any further a do, here are my notes 💪

Even when I already had the outline/basic idea of what I wanted to portray in this chapter, it still turned out quite hard to write, mainly because I didn’t know how much of self-realization I wanted Naoya to have.

After all, he’s the egotistical bastard we all love (to make fun of) and for him to completely fall into this realization wouldn’t be as smooth or rewarding… but at the same time, I wanted to have some progress on his character, so I guess I just made him delusional lmao.

In the sense that he knows something is wrong, he just doesn’t know what. And his poor, ignorant never-held-accountable mind made quick work of the same formula he’s always used in his life and blamed his brother for it.

I mean sure, if he didn’t see Y/N and Naoaki together before his exam he might’ve been able to focus on it. But we can easily counter that with the actual reason of y/n’s indifference, and that is, his actions.

Yet he wants to feign dementia (como que la virgen le habla para mis hispano hablantes jaja) and act as if he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. Ok, we’ll let him do that… as he faces the partial consequences of his actions :>

Since there’s not much information regarding how the promotion exams go for higher ranks (or any that I can recall anyways) I took the liberty to… imagine how they would punish sorcerers for when they do grave mistakes in them lol punishments that don’t usually invoke killing someone you know 💀 as well as to show once again, just the entitlement Naoya has and how he still dares to act the victim 🙄

Like he was going to get banned from being a sorcerer lol but because such thing is sooooo outrageous for a heir of a prestigious clan as his, he was just suspended, for a few weeks like, might as well not punish him at all and let him do whatever he wants.

Ok sure, he didn’t kill them, but imagine if he had done so? DURING A MISSION? Nah, he should’ve gotten a worse outcome than that in my humble opinion, but who am I to fight against the intricate system of privilege?

Anyways, from there, it was very, very satisfying writing down what he’s been forced to deal with after his failure. Seeing Naoya get stripped of the things he likes was like aaaaaaahhhghhh retribution!! As well as sad because if we look at the bigger picture, Naoya really doesn’t have anyone on his side :I his family was quick to start talking badly behind his back, and in his face! There’s no shame for these people, worsening with the comment they made regarding the possibility of Y/N’s pregnancy omg ahahaha that was just foul.

But it was good for Naoya to be rattled that way, he for sure took for granted what he had, maybe this way he’ll finally wake up from his delusion :^)

But that wasn’t meant to happen, not soon anyways, as he now started to blame Naoaki—circling back to this point, this song (translation over here) popped up in my head from time to time when writing the scene he was questioning what’s up with Naoaki and Y/N. He really thinks that the pinnacle of all his misfortunes has to be with him ☹ and ngl it was kind of heart breaking to see him asking these things, but well, what can I say? What was Naoya expecting???? Y/N is literally terrified of him that even doing something good for him is enough to have her spiraling!!

This situation, as earth shattering as it was, was not good for either of them. On one hand we have Naoya suffering for his own issues, and on the other one, Y/N is suffering too!

However, the difference stands there with the people who remained behind to support her. Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi were real ones by staying with her, and as the staff stated, they could’ve easily dropped her (way before even) but decided not to because this is not something new to them, and well, they’re good people!! Of course, they’re not going to leave Y/N alone. Meiko can whine all about it, they be sticking to her side.

Also, I want to comment on the staff: I know (eh, maybe) that they have good intentions but them going on with how Y/N is some kind of hero was like patronizing to me lol I was like: this is not the moment people!! I can only imagine the discourse that was going inside her head while hearing all of these things, that must’ve been infuriating too. I can see Mariya telling them to quiet up, at least until y/n feels better lol, Hitomi scoffing every time they pass by saying all these things, and Haruko being like… conflicted about it: she’s happy her mistress is being recognized, but it just doesn’t feel genuine, you know?

And that part where some of the members were like: yeah this is kind of when like Toji did his thing, but I mean that’s expected from him, he’s a man. Jesus, the misogyny in this people is really making them say dumb stuff just to bring down women. Writing that was so disrespectful to myself ngl hahah

But it was also just to show how… odd the perception of the staff is. Or everything about it really.

From there… NAOAKI. Omg… that scene was, oof. I was really debating whether to write it or not because I’m very aware of what it means… however, I’m no longer willing to keep them apart 😂 after building up their relationship it seems that Naoaki and Y/N are catching feelings for each other, like for real, and while I intended to write that particular scene as Y/N just wanting comfort (I just discovered she’s a hugger lol it seems that she’s given everyone hugs, as well as received from her) this is definitely leading somewhere else 😏 or might lead, who knows what dear Ranta has planned for them hahahahah

Aw, but it was so sweet that Naoaki even said that even if nothing happens between the two, he’ll always be her friend omg. 😭 Where can I get me a man like this? And Naoya still has the audacity to believe he can do something? Just how Mariah Carey said...

He and Ranta wanted to hold on to this idea that maybe what the staff was saying was like, you know, lies, intended to instigate Naoya, but after seeing Naoaki leave Y/N’s room is safe to say that they both know this is far from regular gossip.

And even then, poor Ranta still wanted to protect Naoya! He truly is… well, I’d like to say a good person, someone who Naoya definitely doesn’t deserve, with him willing going as far as trying to involve himself in their relationship in hopes to save it, but there's only so much he can do before he realizes it's doomed. (Ranta wanting to tell Naoaki to at least have the decency to not approach Y/N while Naoya is in the estate is like, wild to me. He knows there’s no stopping him, so maybe he can slow him down?)

Well, this chapter was intended to be some kind of recap of the things that happened soon after chapter 25 and as a set up for the ones to come. Show that this conflict was nothing if not detrimental to both parties involved, with Naoya seemingly losing everything he’s had, the respect of his family, his career, and his marriage, and with Y/N feeling desolate but still having the support of her ladies, and possibly someone closer than that.

Now that I write it like that, it’s as if they switched positions (but if you squint your eyes though, cause being honest Y/N is still getting the short end of the stick) and this time, Naoya is going to be the one put in the work because if I'm being completely honest, Y/N does not care for him at all.

Aghhh well I'm excited to see where the characters take me from here 🤭 will Naoya redeem himself? Or will Y/N completely fall for Naoaki? GUESS WE'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE :>

Thank you so much for your support! Reading your feedback about this chapter helped me overcome the insecurities I had about posting it hahah god, Naoya is such a difficult character sometimes, but he's still hella entertaining 😂

Anyways, if there's something more specific that you want to know about this chapter that wasn't covered here (since I usually just gloss over the things I considered somewhat influential in the process of writing this chapter) don't hesitate to let me know! I'll do my best to my best to answer them without spoiling anything :>

Once again, thank you so much for reading this chapter, hope you all have a wonderful week, take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[allisonreader]

Sneak peek/cut pieces from Tales of a Frozen Sailor; Jessica’s Rescue. (Aka, what if Erik ended up in 1912 without a way back to his time.)

Why had his friends decided that a Titanic themed wedding would be appropriate? Especially one going to approximately where the wreck site would be on the ocean floor, on the day that the ship sank 99 years ago.

He called out, "Is anyone there? Can you hear me?"

A frantic call responded after a pause, "Yes! I’m here! I’m locked in a room!"

"I’ll get you out. Just keep talking so I can find you."

"I’m in a supply closet of sorts… I can’t get out… I’ve tried…"

Whoever was trapped sounded like they might be a woman and close now. He just needed to open the right door.

[zukuist]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞

200 followers special

includes: multiple characters (would add more tags but.. i reached 30 ;;)

your name is shortened to y/n, they/them pronouns

notes: thank you for 200 followers! this isn’t really going to be that long, but im just doing the characters i really like so ;; ALSO I MIGHT’VE GOTTEN KIRI’S ENTRY A LITTLE WRONG so ugh sorry ;;

—

shouto todoroki

— THE OBSERVANT SIMP

from the start, he’s quite oblivious to certain things, (social ques, signs of romantic interest, etc.)

but when he’s observant with someone, then that totally means you’re special to him. does he realize how much he pays attention to you? hmm.. maybe?

he’s going to be the first one that notices you’re hungry, even if you don’t realize it yourself. he’s quick to grab a snack and break it open to you

same thing with being thirsty— if he notices that your water bottle is empty, he’ll quickly find the nearest vending machine and buy a bottle.

temperature is also no problem. he can immediately tell whenever someone’s cold; but he usually helps you first

too hot? he’s slowly putting down the room’s temperature

too cold? his left palm starts emitting some sort of heat in your direction, hoping it creates some sort of aid

if your shoelaces are undone, and/or he notices that there’s a button undone on your shirt— he’ll fix it for you

will ask to take your pictures on dates, and he’ll also help you pick out the best photo (not that any photo of you is short of any beauty)

in short— people will notice that he’s actually a big simp for you; because of how observant he is with you specifically.

katsuki bakugou

— THE TSUNDERE SIMP

just because he’s simping for you doesn’t mean he’ll treat you any differently. bakugou will be bakugou, and you eventually learn how to adapt to that.

but even so, his simp habits slip out sometimes.

when he’s cooking, he’ll accidentally make too much to eat, and he’ll coincidentally put the extras in another box and hand it to you

he’s a good student, even with studies. but would he say he’s a good teacher? hm. probably not

but if he notices you need help, he’ll sigh, feining annoyance as he decides to tutor y’all, because those ‘idiots’ are hopeless

rolls his eyes when he sees food on your cheek, but he’ll grab a tissue and wipe it off for you— claiming how you’re so messy.

he’ll act like he hates hearing your ‘annoying ass singing’ but he’ll lean against the doorway and listen to you rock out to whatever song you’re singing to.

denki will call him a simp for looking after you, and bakugou will just yell at him to “SHUT UP” >:T

he secretly likes taking care of you. his words aren’t the softest thing in the world, but his actions make up to it.

izuku midoriya

— THE DETAILED SIMP

as katsuki bakugou would call him; he is a nerd

he definitely meant that as an insult, but his input on detail makes it very useful in things like relationships

he remembers every detail of your quirk, your limits, potential secret moves.

it would’ve been stalker-ish, if it weren’t for the fact that deku does this out of admiration for his s/o

so if you so happen to collapse due to overusing your quirk— deku has a detailed plan on what to do. it’s almost scary.

he puts detail in a lot of things, anniversary gifts, birthday gifts, and so on.

deku’s also the type to plan things weeks before it actually happens. like.. planning out the perfect birthday gift

and with this, his memory is really good. so it’s very unlikely that he’ll just suddenly forget anniversaries and birthdays.

i hc deku as a bad cook, so he eats takeout food more than his homemade food

but he’s takes note of your allergies, your dislikes with food— and he finds himself mumbling small details to recall what you like

when you walk out in pretty/good outfits for dates

his face will break out into shades of red— suddenly rambling all the good details of your outfit, complimenting you while he’s at it

“y/n’s looks fantastic as always. i might die from their beauty”

if anyone calls him a simp, he’ll be really embarrassed about it. “me? a s-simp? is that a bad thing?”

just tell him it’s fine.

denki kaminari

— THE HYPEMAN SIMP

a big simp

like.. really big

he worships the ground you step on, and hypes up everything you do

y’all know when irene from red velvet literally breathed in north korea, and the crowd just

*claps*

yeah, that’s denki to you

it’s so blantly obvious that he’s simping over someone, and everyone’s just kinda used to it at this point

he’s just a big fanboy sometimes

whenever you’re sparring with someone, he’s always in the background like

“go s/o!!” 🤩

and he has tendencies to go a little easy on you like.. what’s he gonna do when you get electricuted??

but that doesn’t mean he’s never serious— nah.

there are times where he’s just a little bashful just being in your presence

sneaking glances your way, as he silently fanboys about you in general.

“s/o looks really good today. they always look good but !!”

when y’all weren’t together, the bakusquad was just tired of the constant romantic pining

it was really obvious that he was simping back then, and they’re not so sure as to how you didn’t say anything about it

mina always called him a simp

so yeah!! it was a big relief when you got together with him. he never makes you feel terrible, because he’s always your #1 hypeman.

eijirou kirishima

— THE HELPING SIMP (rip idk what to call this)

i didn’t really know what kinda name i went for this one but let me carry on

kiri upfront is very confident, and friendly. he never shows a mean side to anyone,

and there are rare cases of him being bashful

he’s kinda almost like a golden retriever? since he’s always nice and friendly to everyone

but then when you enter the room; he suddenly goes quiet, and he’s left alone with his rather loud thoughts about you

he didn’t really know how to properly approach you at first

but him being kiri, he’s still rather friendly to you (for now)

when he’s messing around, practically sharing one braincell with kami and sero

and then you suddenly walk in— he snaps out of his foolishness, and greet you with his very warm smile

“hey y/n!” he waves at you, and he hopes you don’t mention the teasing look on both kami and sero’s face

sometimes when he’s doing his close combat training, and he notices that he’s getting too close to you

he’ll be like “woah man, maybe we should move locations.” bc he doesn’t wanna hit you by accident ;;

kirishima prefers to not stand near you when his hair is all spiky. like he’s never conscious about it, until he’s around you

man poked sero with his hair before, and he doesn’t want to do that to you

kiri always looks at your hand, just to see if it’s occupied with something. his thoughts linger to what your hand might feel like

“their hand looks really.. soft. argh! i shouldn’t be thinking about these kind of things in public! im sorry y/n”

bakugou really only notices kirishima’s simping ways

bakugou always mentions the fact that kirishima goes really silent whenever you’re around—

and he’s secretly contemplating on having you around more so he can just shut up 。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。

moving aside all of that, kiri always carries your things.

you’ll beg him to give you at least one thing, and he’ll say no because it’s “not manly to let someone carry all of this.”

if you’re sad, he’s the first one to cheer you up— reassuring you that everything will be okay.

kiri’s just wants to be at your service at all times! it’s manly to help people, right?

hitoshi shinsou

— THE DISCREET SIMP

no one would be able to tell that he’s simping for someone

because unlike kaminari; he’s not like IM HITOSHI SHINSO AND IM ACTUALLY A SIMP

he’s a lot more discreet, and no one has really caught on, besides you and kaminari of course

he’s a lot less sarcastic with you, asking you about anything that’s happened instead of just being there

he prefers it to hear you talk. the way each word and syllable rolls off your tongue smoothly, and the way you use your hands to emphasize things

he’s amused.

oh and the way he looks at you? almost any normal person can sense the simp in him pop out (he’s so contained though)

he’s definitely the person that’ll get rid of any bug that’s terrifying you— even though he’d normally just leave it to them

he’ll do it, regardless if it’s the biggest fucking spider he’s ever seen, or the smallest spider

he’ll do it to make you feel safe.

he has these random spurs of compliments during the day

the source mainly comes from his staring habit

and they’re just so unexpected and out of the blue. hitoshi’s amused whenever he sees your reaction to his compliments

like.. you could be really frustrated about something, and he’ll just go “your eyes are pretty.” that’s his discreet method tO MAKE YOU TEMPORARILY DISTRACTED FROM THE ISSUE—

call him a simp, whatever. it’s true anyway so he doesn’t why should he be ashamed of it?

he’s discreet about it, since it’s your business and his business. but you can definitely feel his feelings loud and clear

neito monoma

— THE 180 SIMP

“i’m not a simp!”

[you enter the room]

*nervous laughter*

he had his last laugh, and he never thought he’d be this soft around someone.

especially if you’re from class 1-A like.. i became the thing i hated, ugh.

relentless teasing is amped but this is his way of making sure you remember him loud and clear

but he’ll never tease you in a condescending way— like how he torments the rest of class 1-A

that’s reserved for them 💅

always compliments you, that’s the first thing he does when he sees you—

and they’re never generic compliments either

“it’s nice to see you here, y/n! you make the world better day by day!”

“i’m still wondering what you’re doing in class 1-A, you’re much better than them!”

everyone secretly wonders how you got monoma to like you

monoma canonically likes pastels. spread the word

so sometimes, you’ll walk over to your desk— and you’ll just see this random pastel ornament sitting on your desk

you know who it’s from

whenever monoma starts becoming annoying, kendo will definitely use you as a weapon to make him shut up

he’ll be laughing at the expression on his face, thinking he’s absolutely winning at this

but the smile is wiped off his face when he hears “ok go on, i’ll tell y/n about your antics.”

“no, no! i’ll behave now, please don’t tell y/n.”

class 1-b literally use you as blackmail whenever monoma acts up, and it’s because of how different he is around you

like.. his personality takes a 180, (besides the obvious teasing) it’s alarming

—

©️zukuist 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not repost my work❕

[imaginedreamwrite]

welcome home Wednesday with sugar and spice Ari and Reader 💕

Ari has to go away for work, but while away reader finishes moving into his apartment with him, and is packing all her romance books along side all his work books in his office when he walks in on her on live as she answers questions about her favourite books and showing off her annotations…

use those magic fingers, lovely 💕✨

I’m moving! The tag line bring a wide smile to his face, the kind that could make him look like crazed to those he’s nearby, but all he feels is excitement and the need to get home

The pictures you post on Instagram to your followers are cute, they’re exactly what he would expect to see when you start moving stuff from your place to his. Its the subtle flex of your muscles that are hidden beneath a fuzzy onesie that Ari got you before he left, and the view of boxes in his entranceway, that makes him wish he could be home now.

He had asked if you wanted to wait, asked if you wanted to hold off until he had gotten back but you were determined to move in as soon as you could and start setting up your filming room. You were grateful enough for Ari to give you a room double what yours currently was, and even more so when he had gotten you all new props and set pieces to replace your old ones.

How many books is one too many? The next picture was of you in the study, piles of books sitting around you in a circle as you sat in the middle with Mickey Mouse ears designed to look like Belle, and a rose charm hanging around your neck. You were settling in, it was what he wanted more than anything, and were well on your way to unpacking.

One more day! The last picture had been posted last night and had been like the first you’d posted when you started moving in.

You were sprawled across his bed with your textbooks set in an orderly manner and a hoot cup of tea in the background. You were sharing your life with them, being an influencer who enjoyed cutesy, childlike things without making it a fetish and you had garnered a healthy following. Still whenever Ari saw a comment trying to sexualize you into the role of being a little, it had made him want to reach through the screen and strangle someone.

“Mr. Levinson, sir,” A stewardess had approached him as he was admiring your pictures with his usual admiration to give him the news he had so desperately wanted, “we’re preparing to land.”

Ari had tucked his phone away at the news of the landing and glanced out the window as the city came into view. He was waiting to touch down, counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until he could see you in person again. It had been long, too long, since he had gone on the business trip and he was eager to be back and be with you.

If you didn’t have finals, you could have went with him.

If you didn’t have year end papers to write, he could’ve whisked you away.

Regardless, Ari was thankful for the quick passing of time after he had landed and gathered his bags. It was a quick trek back to his house, a quick and hurried drive that was aided by the notification that you had gone live to talk about your favourite authors and books.

As his driver had dropped him off at the door, Ari had started into the house and had attempted to be as quiet as humanely possible as to not disturb you or give away his surprise. He had set his bags just inside the door and kicked his shoes off before he started up the stairs, taking them one at a time.

He could hear your muffled voice through the closed door and Ari had stopped for a moment to just listen to your dulcet tones. He had stopped and listened, prepared himself to break up your live by showing up when you weren’t expecting him.

Even after he had turned the knob and entered the room, just standing on the edge of camera view, you were distracted by the book in your hand.

You were busy talking, unaware that Ari was home and waiting, almost unaware of your comment section on your live completely blowing up.

“Ari? Ari’s not-“ you had questioned the comments and then looked over your shoulder, your eyes widening and the book clattering to the desk as you squealed sharply.

“You’re back!” You dove for him, dove to hug him and he had swept you into a tight hug as he lift you from the floor, your ankles crossing.

“Missed you, princess!” Ari nudged his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent while your live was still on. “Didn’t expect me back?”

“Not tonight,” you grinned and kissed him lightly before you turned and faced the camera, “I guess the live is over. I’ll be hosting another watch party tomorrow, the vote is still on for what we choose.”

“Come on, princess.” Ari mumbled into your ear, urging you to follow him after you’d ended the live. “I have a surprise for you.”

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

A new prompt for you! (Finally :3)

I'm picturing multiple couples or a family group (4+ adults) who share a cottage together in the middle of nowhere, living off the land. Winter is coming, bringing with it its chill winds and early dustings of snow. The people are hard at work every day, chopping wood and putting aside the last of the food for winter.

It's the worst possible time to get sick, yet someone does, coming down with a miserable, streaming cold and high fever. What do they do about it? How do the others respond?

Could have definite cottage core elements, or fantasy (since you're so good at writing that!) or contagion if you choose. Can't wait to see the results :)

It’s been so long since I’ve written a real, honest to god fic, so this will be my debut back into snzfucker favor!

Okay, okay, who to include in this house of contagion?

We need a soft healer boi that takes care of everyone before themselves, of course. A very strong, stoic, hardworking warrior with muscles of steel - but the same can’t be said for his immune system. A hyper comic relief (like if Scout from TF2 was in a fantasy setting) that insists he isn’t sick, but can’t keep back his sneezes long enough to prove his point. And, of course, a tall, thin scholar whose cold heart is only melted by his fever.

Adventurers packing it in for the winter and preparing for journeying in the spring, now only at most a few yards from each other and having shot immune systems from the exhausting work. Illness doesn’t have to travel far to infect…

Oh, this is gonna be good.

***********************

“Look look look! Otto, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Barlow skidded to a halt, almost tripping over his own two feet before regaining his balance. Otto chuckled.

“Alright, alright, que pasa? What is so exciting?”

Barlow fumbled with his cloak before pulling a shiny coin out of one of the pockets.

“I got this off a path when I was pickin’ berries! Must’ve been a merchant or something…”

Barlow’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Or maybe a warrior! Ooh, or a knight! Definitely somebody with a cape.”

He flung the back of his cloak behind him and stood tall, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. However, Barlow couldn’t keep the pose long - the frigid air made him close the thin burlap around himself again, shivering. Otto knitted their brow.

“You’re wearing your summer cloak,” they said, looking Barlow up and down. “You must be freezing, chiquito!”

Barlow waved his hand, as if batting away Otto’s concern.

“Don’t worry about it, doc. It’s gonna take more than a little wind to get me down.”

As if to prove a point, he spread out his arms and spun around, laughing at the many leaves he kicked up.

Otto would usually be charmed by the sprite’s antics, but their concern soon outweighed their amusement.

“Just make sure to change into your winter clothes soon, okay? I would hate for you to get sick.”

Barlow stopped spinning, coughing a bit as he caught his breath with chilly autumn air. His hot breath clouded around his face like smoke.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, “I’ll grab it when I go by the cottage. Forgot my basket anyway. See you around, doc.”

With a quick salute, Barlow ran off, cloak billowing behind him, still clenching the coin in a tight fist. Otto shook their head and sighed. They knew that Barlow just didn’t want them to worry - but that only made them worry more. The healer in them couldn’t help but notice red-tipped fingers, congested voices, and pallid complexions. Besides, with a harsh winter underway, a cold could very quickly rear its ugly head, turning into bronchitis, pneumonia, and even infect a person’s magic…

Otto took a deep breath. Their thoughts had run away with them - and now, more than ever, it was important to stay focused.

The doctor gathered up their scrolls, pulled their coat close, and started back to the cottage.

Perhaps a little tea would calm their nerves.

***************

“it’CHEW! CHEW!”

“Salud.”

“Ugh…thanks, doc. Snf!”

Otto looked up from his knitting to see Barlow rubbing his long, pointy ears with a pained look on his face.

“Do your ears hurt?”

Barlow put his hands in his lap. “No! Just, uh, a little itchy.”

Severin, who had been reading on the sofa across from Otto, hid a smirk behind the yellowed pages.

“Someone must be talking about you,” he drawled smugly. “Considering the way you conduct yourself, I’m not surprised.”

Instead of snapping back, Barlow still scratched at his ears. Severin slit his eyes and continued to read. He almost seemed disappointed.

“Could be thragweed,” Godric rumbled from a large wooden stool, rubbing his beard in thought, “but they usually shrivel up by the first frost. Didja see any three-leaved plants while you were out foragin’?”

Barlow shrugged, wincing as he rubbed harder. “Um…maybe?”

Otto frowned. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep scratching like that.”

“S-sorry, I…huh-hold on…”

Barlow buried himself in his cloak, with only his mop of red hair showing.

“hit’SHEW! Huh…it’TCHEW!”

The sprite continued to let out sneeze after sneeze, his wrinkled, pink nose only showing when he needed to come up for air. Otto got up from their chair, and they were soon holding him by the shoulders to keep him from knocking himself over.

Barlow finally finished, snuffling into his sleeve. He looked up at Otto with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, doc, I don’d dow whad’s gotten into be…”

Otto hushed him with a gentle pat, using their free hand to feel Barlow’s forehead. They clucked their tongue.

“Oh, mijo, you have a fever...”

Barlow’s breath caught, and he coughed into his shoulder. “Nah, I…I’b okay, Otto, really. I’ll be…snrk…fide in the morning. Just gotta sleep it off…”

Otto smiled gently. “Well, you’re right about one thing. A good night’s sleep is exactly what you need. And maybe a little salve for your poor ears…”

Their hand still on Barlow’s shoulder, Otto guided the sprite to his bedroom, mumbled protests and miserable sneezes trailing behind them.

***************

Barlow’s fever never grew very high - his burning ears and nose, however, kept him up for most of the night. By the time morning came, he was too exhausted to even feign health. Otto had to put him back to bed, which was only met with pitiful murmurings.

“‘M fide, doc, I…hetch’CHIIIEW!”

“Pobrecito! You sound even worse than yesterday…”

“C’mon, Otto, I…”

“I don’t want to see you out of bed today, okay, cariño? You need to rest.”

“Nngh…”

Otto and Severin split the foraging work, since their respective jobs were mostly planning and budgeting the winter ahead of them. Godric promised to keep a good eye on the patient, but that didn’t lessen the doctor’s worry any.

“I wonder how Barlow’s doing,” Otto murmured, probably for the umpteenth time since they’d begun their work.

Severin scrutinized his severely pricked thumb. “Children always carry around such nasty things. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught the plague instead of a simple cold.”

Otto froze mid-pick, and Severin hurried to correct himself.

“Peace, my friend. It is just a cold, after all.

He grimaced.

“One I dearly hope he keeps to himself.”

They both continued to fill their baskets with berries, wiping the frost off their shiny, black skins. However, Otto’s mind continued to race.

I shouldn’t have left him. Godric only knows so much. What happens if his fever spikes? I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to leave the sick behind. Should I go back? I should go back. No, I promised Barlow I’d get his foraging done. But I can’t keep a promise if he’s dead. What if he’s already dead? What if Godric’s on his way right now to tell me? What if I’m already too late? How will we bury him, the ground is too hard. Otto, your friend has died and all you can think about is how to bury him. You must be the most selfish -

“Otto.”

Otto snapped back to reality to see Severin giving him a fierce side-eye.

“It’s only a cold.”

Otto took a deep breath. “Right. Gracias. I…I lost myself, didn’t I?”

The afternoon went by in a quiet fervor, both of them trying to fill their baskets before the sun went down. With Otto’s quick fingers and Severin’s thin ones, it was an easy job, and the managed to get back before it got too dark.

Otto wasn’t two steps through the door before they were at Godric’s heels, wringing their hands and stammering through the worries that had built up through the day.

“Are you sure…how…did he…should I…?”

The warrior just chuckled and put a gigantic, calloused hand on the their head.

“He’s on tha’ mend, doc, on the mend. Sneezin’ his head off, sure, but gettin’ better.”

As if on cue, two loud sneezes interrupted them from one of the bedrooms, followed by a mumbled curse and a few wet sniffles. Godric shook his head.

“Been like that all day, poor tyke. When he wasn’ dozin’ off, tha’ is.”

Severin took a few scrolls out of his dragon-scale satchel.

“I understand you have a more…pressing engagement. Why don’t I take the calculations tonight?”

But Otto was already on their way to Barlow’s bedside, medicine bag in tow. Severin only lifted his eyebrows and turned on his heel, setting up the many notes he had taken and a few quills on the oaken table.

“Besides,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t want to get near whatever affliction that sprite’s come down with.”

*************

Barlow was scratching at his drooping ears, which were now covered in a red, peeling rash. Otto gently pushed his hands back under the quilt.

“I know it itches, but you need to try not to scratch.”

The healer took a small glass container out of their bag, dipping two fingers into the greenish-gray ointment inside. They began to apply the salve to Barlow’s ears, taking care not to put on too much.

“Tell me when you need a break,” Otto said.

Barlow nodded, eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, his nostrils started to twitch, and he held up a hand.

“G-gudda…huh…!”

He jerked forward into his knees.

“hit’CHEW! hhhit’SHEW! Uh…hut’SHIEW!”

Barlow snuffled into the quilt, and Otto handed him a tissue.

“Salud.”

“Ugh…sorry, doc…”

Otto put the cork back into the glass bottle and set it on the bedside table.

“It’s alright - most sprites have the same reflex.”

“No, I beant…for…”

Barlow bit his lip, his ears drooping even lower.

“For geddin’ sick.”

Otto put a hand on the sprite’s back.

“Oh, mijo…”

“I-I didn’d mean to,” Barlow whimpered. “I…I should’ve god by coat like you told be to…and dow w-we’re - hic - gudda starve…”

Otto hushed him, pulling Barlow into an embrace and rocking him slowly back and forth.

“We will be fine, mijo,” they whispered, their voice soothing Barlow into a sniffle. “We will forage until you are better, and not a day before. That is what friends do. They protect each other, they take care of each other, and they love each other like family. And that is how I love you. Like my family.”

Barlow hiccuped, trying to speak through his tears.

“Shhh, mijo…it’s okay…”

Otto wrapped the quilt tighter around Barlow and laid him down, pushing hair damp with both tears and sweat out of his face. The sobs quieted, then dissolved into shaky breaths. Before Otto even made it through the doorway, they could hear small, congested snores coming from the pile of blankets.

*****************

Scritch scritch scritch…scriiiitch…

Harried quill scratching filled the air as Otto entered the living room, putting on their tweed coat and wool gloves. They stretched out their arms.

“Buenos días!”

Godric lifted his coffee mug as a greeting, his famous half-smile dancing over his lips.

“Well, aren’tcha bright as tha’ north star this mornin’!”

Otto beamed. Barlow had slept soundly through the night, and he was still fast asleep when they had checked on him. Not a sniffle or a sneeze came from that room.

“Severin, I was thinking we could pick up acorns today,” Otto thought aloud, buttoning their coat. “There is a beautiful place in the forest…”

Silence. The quill scratching only grew more manic. Otto glanced up.

Severin was hunched over the table, writing madly on several open scrolls, only pausing to move a few beads on his abacus. Otto went back to getting ready. Sometimes it took a while for Severin to answer if he was engrossed in his calculations. He would respond when he got to a stopping point.

After about fifteen minutes of fidgeting with their scarf, though, Otto tried again.

“From what I’ve seen, we should be ready for winter in a week, maybe less. All that’s left is the dried vegetables and a few more logs for firewood.”

Again, there was no answer. But now that Otto was a little closer, they could see why.

Severin’s eyes were inflamed and painful, as were his gaunt cheeks. His long, usually well-preened hair was matted against his forehead, with stray hairs sticking up this way and that. Thin shoulder blades came together with each labored breath. Long fingers shivered around a red quill, leaving stray marks on the parchment.

“Mi sombro,” Otto breathed.

The shadowling blinked, raising his head stiffly. Pools of sweat, shaken loose by the movement, streaked down their face.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” Severin croaked. “Have I…have I been awake…?”

Godric looked up from his mug, finally noticing the sorcerer’s state. “Stars above, lad! Ya look like hell frozen over!”

The shadowling stared straight ahead, his breath coming in ragged strains.

“Could someone…please put out the fireplace…?”

Otto clucked their tongue, putting their hands on either side of Severin’s neck. His dark eyes fluttered shut, as if with great relief.

“Mm…”

“Ay, tu cabeza,” Otto cooed, putting their hand on Severin’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Severin finally looked down at the doctor. His tense gaze was now dazed, vulnerable - even afraid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said again, hoarsely.

Otto rubbed their thumb on Severin’s feverish cheek. “I know, cariño. I know.”

***************

It took a lot more doing to get Severin to bed than it did Barlow. Not only did he insist he was perfectly well, only warm from the unlit fireplace, but that he had seen terrifying visions outside the window.

“Their eyes, doctor…they stared into my very essence…a…a beast of some kind…we’ll be killed…”

“Shhh, my love. It’s only a nightmare from your fever. You will feel better soon.”

In the end, the only way Otto could leave the cottage was by taking a small talisman Severin had in his cloak. They weren’t superstitious, but Otto wanted to do anything they could to put the sick sorcerer at ease.

Now with one less healthy person in the group, Otto rushed to get the last of the supplies for the cold winter ahead. The first snowflakes were beginning to fall, which made finding acorns that much more difficult. Before the sun reached its peak, the ground was completely covered in a thin layer of snow. But, for once, Otto’s anxiety was an advantage.

They plowed through every task as if their life depended on it. Another of their friends falling ill had kicked their healer instinct into high gear; whenever they were fatigued or sore, all it took was a few words of the healing oath to get them going again.

“From the monsters of the cave, of the sea, of the heart,” they whispered while peeling wild wolf onions, “I shall protect and provide for those who cannot.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the light flurry of the morning became a bitter gale that howled through the trees like a hungry animal. The world was silent except for the frigid wind - all the creatures of the forest knew well enough that the winter ahead would not be kind to them.

But Otto knew nothing of this.

And so they marched forward.

It was quite past dark when Otto returned to the cottage. Much to their delight, a fire was flickering in the fireplace, and a wonderful, familiar smell lingered in the air - a mixture of tender meat and spices.

As Otto had hoped, there was a pot of stew left over the flames. The broth still bubbled with warmth, and the chicken and vegetables gave off a heavenly steam. Their stomach suddenly felt very hollow.

They hadn’t eaten all day, had they?

With raw fingers, the doctor tried their best to use the ladle, which was as big as their entire arm and weighed twice as much. Gripping the handle with both hands, they brought the brew to their lips, taking care not to burn their tongue.

A beautiful, soothing flavor poured down Otto’s throat. They leaned their head back and closed their eyes, making sure to drink up every last tasty morsel. It was a long time before the ladle was empty again.

Once they were finished, the healer felt a heaviness collect around their eyes. Finally, at long last, they could rest. The cottage was fast asleep - and now it was time for Otto to follow suit.

Sleep came upon Otto too quickly for them to retire to their own bed. Like a hound after a successful hunt, they crawled onto the sofa and curled into a ball, dead to the world before their head hit the soft cushions.

*******************

Otto wasn’t sure how long they slept. They remembered bits and pieces of dreams, of words, or memories - but mostly a comforting darkness that lulled them into a deep drowse.

When they finally awoke, the first thing they saw was the flitting of the fire. The flame had all but burned itself out during the night. Otto rolled over, stretching and sighing with satisfaction. That was the best they had slept in several days.

They indulged themselves in a large yawn and shifted off the sofa, cringing from cold stone against their bare feet.

The cottage was still silent with sleep - not a thing stirred but the creaks and groans of the wooden beams. A frigid wind had picked up outside, and bits of snow swirled in the air.

How cold Godric must be this morning, Otto thought as they padded towards the hallway. The warrior was always up and working by first light - quite before anyone else was awake - but came back inside to drink some hot coffee and see how the preparations were going. Godric made a strong cup of coffee. One could smell it and be ready for a new day; that’s usually all most could stand without sputtering.

Today, however, there was no earthy aroma of it brewing. All Otto could smell was a hint of the stew they had eaten the night before - the husk of a beautiful, delicious dream.

The doctor peeked his head into Barlow’s room. The sprite was laying on his stomach, eyes closed and breath soft. Though they had been feeling better for the past day or so, Barlow’s nose frequently ran away with him, and was still very pink and sensitive. His upright ear twitched ever so slightly, but there was no sign of him stirring any time soon.

Severin, on the other hand, had fared much worse. Despite the many wet rags coating almost every inch of his febrile body, his breathing was still heavy and labored, and his eyes darted under closed eyelids. Bite marks covered cracking lips. Otto made sure they made little noise as they tiptoed from the doorway. Severin needed all the rest he could get.

Otto turned from his patients, a familiar heaviness weighing upon their heart. Such misery in what was supposed to be a warm season of reaping and feasting.

Perhaps it came back with them from market, or from the many travelers that take the nearby road into town. With how hard everyone had been working, and how many nights were left unslept…

Otto massaged the bridge of their nose, dashing from one possibility to the next, feeling more and more ashamed by how little they prepared, how stupid they must have been, how utterly selfish! They had been so busy with preparations that they had barely noticed that their journeymates were wasting away!

They could have done something. This was all their fault, wasn’t it? How could they be a healer if they couldn’t even keep the ones they loved safe?

Otto was roused from their guilt by the sound of harsh coughing. They peeked their head into the past two rooms, fearing that one of them had been awakened by their footsteps. However, both of them were still out cold. Or out warm, in Severin’s case.

No, the coughing wasn’t coming from their rooms, Otto realized. It was coming from the third bedroom - the one that they and Godric shared.

The door creaked open as Otto shuffled inside, already knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Doc? Is tha’ you?”

Godric was sitting up in bed, quilt wrapped around him, his chest heaving with another hacking fit. His cheeks were flushed with effort and fever. Otto went to his bedside, their heart dropping into their stomach.

“Real nice ‘a this cold to leave the healer last, eh?” the warrior joked before laying back down with a quiet groan.

Otto pushed the hair off Godric’s neck and felt his lymph nodes, which were not only hot, but terribly swollen.

“I can chop those few pieces ‘a wood, an’ then I’ll-”

“You are not getting out of this bed,” Otto said sternly. Then, with a kinder tone, “I know you want to finish your work, but you are very sick. You shouldn’t be out in the snow.”

“But how-”

“I will take care of it, cariño. Just rest.”

Godric opened his mouth to say something else, but just coughed and covered himself up with his quilt.

“Take care of yerself, doc,” he said before Otto went to check on the others. “There isn’t anythin’ I can’t do after I’m back on m’feet.”

***************

Between taking care of three sick creatures and the final preparations, Otto ran themselves ragged over the next few days. None of their friends were particularly hard to take care of - especially after Severin’s fever broke - but the heaviness of their heart continued to weigh upon them.

With no other options, they threw themselves into work.

If they chopped enough wood for an extra week, they chopped enough wood for two extra weeks. The larder was more than full. Their fingers and hands and back and everything else was sore, but they couldn’t stop for long without feeling their guilt gnaw away at them.

One frigid morning, Otto had taken to the axe, splitting wood and putting them in the shed to keep them dry. They had run out of pre-cut trunks a long time ago, so they started cutting sticks in half for kindling. Out of the corner of their eye, mid-swing, they saw a figure marching through the snow - lifting their foot high before stomping it down again with a crunch.

After a few minutes, Otto could finally see a pair of long ears fluttering in the cold wind.

“Barlow!”

The sprite grinned as he approached Otto, holding up a steaming container of something in his mittened hands.

“I got soup!” he called out, trying to move faster in the deep snow. “Godric felt a lot better today, so he wanted to try somethin’ new. It’s real good! Even Severin ate a whole bowl of it, so you know it’s gotta be great.”

Barlow sat next to the chopping block, and patted a mound of snow next to him. Otto sat down, wincing as their sore muscles twinged.

“Godric says we’re all packed up for winter,” Barlow continued as he handed Otto the food. “And we’ll even have stuff to eat in the spring, too.”

Otto didn’t answer, but tucked into the soup, not even blowing it off before putting the spoon in their mouth. Barlow thought for a little bit, then spoke again.

“Doc, Godric told me that we got more than enough food and wood to last through the winter. If you wanna come inside, we’ve got a checker game goin’…”

Otto didn’t respond, but they had started to shiver from the cold. Barlow took of his coat and draped it around Otto’s shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get back. Everybody’s waitin’ for us.”

Barlow took Otto by the hand and pulled them up, then led them back towards the cottage. Otto trailed behind like a quivering lamb, both exhausted and numb. They couldn’t think of much else than putting one foot in front of the other.

When the pair finally got back to the cottage, a warm, cozy scene awaited them. Severin was on the couch, doing needlepoint with half-open eyes and content look on his face. Godric was above the stove, stirring a pot and putting one seasoning or another into it. The fire was blazing in a lovely orange hue that painted the scene with a beautiful glow.

While Barlow went right inside and was greeted by the others, Otto stood in the doorway, weary eyes closed, soaking up the light and warmth as much as they could.

“Doctor?”

Severin was up now, his quiet wisdom regained. Before Otto could answer, the sorcerer started to remove their soaked outer layers with quick fingers.

“If Barlow didn’t bring you here,” Severin said, “you would have worked yourself to a frozen skeleton.”

Otto suddenly jerked his head to the side.

“het’TCH! TCH! TCH’UH!”

“Many blessings, doctor.”

Severin smiled and tilted his head.

“Many, many blessings.”

Otto sniffled, rubbing their nose with stiff fingers.

“Nngh…gracias. Just a little…heh…htch’CHU!”

“Aye, I don’ like tha’ sound of that,” Godric rumbled from the kitchen, turning his head to see the sickly healer.

Otto waved their hand. “Just a li-hih-ttle sdiffle…”

“One that is long overdue, I think,” Severin said, putting the last of their wet things away.

Otto was ushered in front of the fire, still at the mercy of his nose. With each sneeze came a chorus of blessings and, if need be, another handkerchief.

“That’s a real nasty cold, huh?” Barlow commented after a particularly forceful fit. “Even I didn’t sneeze that much.”

As the day came to a close, the group all gathered on the couch, listening to the wind howling outside and treating themselves to Godric’s famous roast and sweet apple tea. Otto didn’t eat very much, but the hot tea soothed their sore throat.

“Tank you for taking such good care of be,” Otto snuffled.

Godric chuckled. “Ya care so much about us, doc. It only makes sense that we’s care an awful lot about you, ‘specially when ya aren’t feelin’ well.”

“And after you tended so well to us, may I add,” Severin said, leaning his head back.

“Yeah!” Barlow agreed, not exactly as good with words as the others, but still just as thankful.

Otto, overcome, buried their face in Godric’s side and began to cry, letting out everything that they had felt in the past few days. They wanted to stop, they wanted to explain, but it was lost in desperate sobs and hiccuping. Godric held them closer to him while the others offered quiet support until the doctor quieted.

“There ya go,” Godric said, putting a large hand on Otto’s head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Filled with comfort and warm food, Otto quickly dozed off, and the others weren’t far behind. The only sounds were the falling of fresh snow, the crackling of the fireplace, and the snores of deep, contented sleep.

And, as winter finally settled into Harbinger Woods, they all settled down for their long winter’s rest.

******************

Not only do I want to dedicate this to @perfectpaperbluebirds , who gave me the prompt, but also @sneezytomatosquish , who has been feeling emotionally and physically under the weather lately. That may have changed by the time this fic is finished, but I shall gift it to you anyway. You are one of my favorite creators, but I want to create something for you for a change. You deserve it.

Get well soon!

[wormstacheangel]

some latinenatural for my benefit mostly. read the first two chapter on ao3 aqui

Dean was still wearing a big smile when he finally kicked his boots off at home. It took everything he had to finally let Cas leave his Baby, wanting to keep pulling him in for one final kiss after another. Cas now knows what “Otro Besito.” means. Enough so that every time he heard it, he rolled his eyes, but he always leaned in. Until finally, he closed the car door and promised to text Dean tomorrow.

Cas’s number is now saved under an angel emoji porque Dean es un romantico first and foremost.

“Apenas estas llegando?” Dean looked up to see his Tio sitting on the couch with a novela playing on the tv. “Como te fue?”

“Awesome.” Dean picked up his boots and walked over to kiss the top of his Tio’s head before heading to bed. Ignoring his fake protesting of the affection. “Me voy char un baño.”

They asked about Cassie in the morning, and Dean made up some casual date, a believable one, but told them they were probably better off friends anyways. It made it harder to think of excuses to sneak out at night but working for Victor at night made it easier for Bobby not to question him.

He wished he could tell them about his actual dates. Talk about Cas’s stupid two left feet and his beautiful smile. He wished he could talk about the way Cas looked, eyes squinting and head tilting como un pajarito when Dean spoke more than three words in Spanish. But he loved it so much, and just getting those good morning texts from him made his days so much better.

[Read more under tag <3]

It was Monday again when Dean walked by Cas’s house with the raspados.

“Mi Angelito,” Dean wanted to reach and kiss him, but eyes were still watching him. So instead, he reached down and handed Cas a grocery bag filled with Tupperware. “I brought you a real lunch so you can eat it instead of just some ice.”

Cas had admitted that he came home for his lunch break to see Dean. Giving him no time to have an actual proper lunch, and Dean won’t have any of that. Su hombre va a estar lleno y feliz con su comida.

Cas took the bag in shock before handing it back to Dean. “No, Dean, I can’t take this.”

“I woke up extra early to make it for you y no lo quieres?”

“¡Si te quiero!” Cas reached to touch Dean’s cheek, blue eyes watching Dean’s reaction as he quietly added, “Mucho.”

Dean swallowed hard before taking Cas’s hand and giving it a quick little kiss before letting it fall. “Cas, cariño, I was talking about the food. I said ‘no lo quieres’ not ‘no me quieres’. Do you hear the difference?”

“Oh.” Cas stepped back and looked at the plastic bag in his hand. “Then I um-thank you.”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward to wrap Cas in his arms for a quick squeeze. “Ay, pendejo.”

“Dean!” Dean could picture the roll of the eyes without even looking at Cas. He tried to hold in his laughter as he pulled away just a little, just enough, so their faces stayed inches away.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas as he asked, “What? Ya no me quieres?”

Dean could see Cas’s wheels turning in his mind as he mouths the words Dean just said to him. The blush on his cheeks growing as the realization hits him. “Me. You said-yes! I mean, si! I mean, yes or whatever!”

Dean was sure Cas had no idea what he was saying. It’s not like he said amo. No, Cas said quiero. It was the less intense version of ammo, but still,l it relatively meant the same thing, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to repeat it.

“Quiero un beso.” Dean says instead, wanting to rest his forehead down on Cas’s but restrains himself. The hug was already pushing it out in public.

“Dean, my brother is home.” Cas looked at the house behind him before looking back at Dean, eyes sad, but Dean only smiled back at him. His hand reaches to pinch Cas’s cheek gently while he winks at him.

Te quiero. Es lo que quiere decir pero ahorita no es el momento. It’s too early for that. Ahorita, Dean está feliz nomás en tenerlo. No tiene que decir nada. No tiene que decirle a nadie que se está enamorando muy rápido de un güero con ojos más azules que el cielo. Más brillosos que una estrella. Más hondos que el mar.

No. Dean didn’t have to tell anyone que se está enamorado de los pies a la cabeza. It’s fine.

Dean lifts his hat enough to scratch his sweaty hair before he jumps back on his bike. “Pick you up later then?”

Cas nods as he holds the grocery bag tight in his right hand before lamely waving at Dean with his left.

Dean leaves with a loud ring of his bells.

A month of sneaking around goes by with Dean asking Victor to tell Bobby he was working for him during his date nights. It was obvious Victor knew, but Dean was way too scared to confirm it. Either way, Victor agreed to help him sneak around and didn’t push for details.

Though he always eyed Cas like a challenge whenever he came around, Cas never seemed to notice as he was caught up rereading the same menu he has been looking at for weeks.

It was a Thursday night that Cas called to ask, “So what are we?”

Dean was in the middle of mopping the bathroom stalls in the office building, with Bobby doing a different one on the same floor. Sam was somewhere throwing away the trash from the offices while a few other folks that worked for his Tio cleaned up whatever they had to do. The only sounds in the offices were vacuums and music coming from someone’s speaker.

“Cas, I’m kinda busy working right now.”

“You said I could call Thursday nights cause you get bored.” Fuck. He did say that. “Unless you don’t wanna answer.”

“It’s just…no es algo-”

“English, Dean. I can’t read your expressions over the phone.” Oh, so that’s how he catches on.

“Exactly! It’s not something to discuss over the phone. We can go out tomorrow and talk about it.”

Cas didn’t say anything but Dean could hear him moving some stuff around.

“Cas?” Dean pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom as he finished. Trying not to think about how here Dean was, working late as a janitor while Cas was staying late at his fancy corporate job. Fuck, si piensa mucho en eso se va a volver loco. “Cariño? Andale Angelito, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then talk to me.” Dean hears Cas make a loud and tired sigh. “Mira, que suspiro!” He teased.

“Dean, I don’t know-Ah! Fuck!” Dean hears Cas’s phone fall against something hard. Dean’s heart raced, not knowing what to do.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean calls to his phone, already abandoning his bucket to start jogging to the door to drive wherever Cas was, even though he didn’t know where that was. “Contestame, cabron!”

Dean stops when he hears Cas awkwardly laugh through the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I usually never stay this late. I’ve just been behind the last few weeks.”

Dean couldn’t hear what the other person said, but Cas sounded fine, so Dean took a breath of relief.

“Dean?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. The janitor walked into my office, and it scared me. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Dean can already picture Cas running his hand through his hair. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me…cabron.”

Mierda. “Well, you scared me! I thought something-Don’t do that!”

“Dean,” Oh, good. Cas was smiling. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“Shut up.” Dean heard the echo of his own voice. “Oye, cariño, take me off speaker! I don’t wanna hear myself.”

“Sorry, but I need my hands to pack up my things. But please, continue talking about how much you care about me while I do so.”

Dean grumbled, “I’m hanging up.”

“But te quiero!”

“You can’t keep using that against me, Angelito. Es tu culpa.”

Cas was silent for a second before Dean heard, “Excuse me. If you’re done, you can just-Sir? Hey!”

“Cas?” And before Dean can panic again, he hears a familiar voice call his name from the other end.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks as the voice echoes in his mind. Dean’s head falls into his hand as he starts to shake just a little before answering. “Sam. Tell me where you are.”

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

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Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license​

[bloomyn]

strawberry syrup

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader

summary: your midlife crisis happens rather quickly, and its not midlife, you’re twenty three with a baby whose daddy just left with your best friend. peachy.

wc; 1.1k

part of: pink peonies

alt. ending. ; the one we all deserve

here’s the thing. 

ushijima can’t stand the way atsumu looks at you, and he can’t stand the way you look at him back even more. it’s the thought of his hand around your waist and his hand holding yours while he drives down the freeway that has him clenching crescents into his palms. he sees the way akio looks up at atsumu because ‘that toss was so awesome!’ and for once, he lets himself be disappointed.  

but fear always manages to beat disappointment. 

so he looks away.

-

the jackals win the match to no one’s surprise. even if atsumu was betting on a date with the possible love of his life, wakatoshi had enough respect for the game to understand when a player was in his zone. he just wishes you weren’t the reason for it. 

satori once told him that everyone was allowed to be selfish once in a while, ‘stir the pot waka-chan! sometimes something good comes out of it’

he’s never taken the advice. 

not even when he sees atsumu gift you an msby jersey for good luck. not even when miya tags your campus building in his instagram story with the caption “lunch :-)”

(there's a little glimmer of hope with the absence of the word ‘date’ at the end of the caption)

ushijima learns to breathe in the worry and exhale the possibility that he has a chance, with you. (he’s always had a chance, always.)

-

ushijima learns to be selfish.

que the dramatic lighting please

-

it’s disgustingly stalkerish how he knows your address like the back of his hand. each turn feels familiar and for a sliver of a second it’s like he’s driving home. the sun is caving in on his car and all he can feel is home, with you and akio. 

would you greet him at the door? would akio come running up, excited to tell him about his day at school? or would you let him drive the three of you home from practice, debating on what to get for dinner?

the thought of either has him biting his inner lip.

but the thought of neither has his hands trembling on the steering wheel.

your house is like he remembers, plain but homely, with a few flower pots scattered on the front porch and if he squints hard enough he can see a few paint strokes on a couple of them. 

there’s probably less than 20 steps between the car and your front porch but every step is held down by the weight of his cowardliness so it’s a miracle that you open the door before he can even contemplate doing it. 

“wakatoshi.”

-

it’s the type of situation that only happens in the late night dramas that play on the television when you can’t sleep. the ones you dreamed about in college when a boy broke your heart. and now it’s here. literally standing in front of you. 

“hello.” he says simply. 

it’s rough and gravelly, like he’s been thinking about how to say it. 

“it’s been awhile hasn’t it.”

he nods and you take a step closer, watching the way his fingers curl around the hem of his sweater. his eyes flicker to the garden box on the terrace, it was new.

“would you like to come inside?”

-

for a situation that seemingly needs no apology, there's a little part of you, deep down, that's begging you to say sorry, you're not exactly sure what for but the way he looks at your living room like it's a foreign place makes your heart twinge. his steps are careful, calculated, almost hesitant, as if anything he does seemingly out of line would send the two of you right back to square one, not like you weren't already there.

“akio’s on a playdate, if you were wondering.” 

at the words his head snaps up to meet yours and his excitement at the mention of your son's name has you keening. 

but a simple nod is his reply and you’re back to a silence so strong you retreat back to the kitchen for tea. you can feel the muscles in your inner lip with the way you're biting it and your hands only tremor slightly as you bring the tray towards the living room. he sits there, stoic and calm, as if the two of you haven't seen each other in weeks, not even a spare glance shared between you. 

he breaks first.

“i heard about your relationship with Miya - kun.” he says softly.

oh, you're panicking.

is this why he hasn’t been talking to you either? your toes curl inward, had you been doing the same thing him? the very thing that drew you away from him? the tabloid images are still burned into your brain and the embarrassment is still making its way through your heart. 

“friendship,” you correct instead, “he’s, ah, he’s been a good friend.”

“that’s good.”

you take a seat next to him, were you too close?, no, no , this was a normal length to sit from someone. 

“akio misses you,” you start, fingers picking at your knuckles, “but we’ve just been really busy and i’ve just spent so much time grading--”

“i’m sorry.”

you swear your soul collapses inside of you right then and there. his breath gets a bit quicker and his knuckles crack but other than that you can’t see anything other than the rug you're currently staring holes into. 

“i think you felt like i was leading you on.”

it's your turn for your breathing to get quicker

“i know it looks that way, and i don’t even know how those pictures got published. but i wasn’t, i really,”

he pauses, takes a moment to run this fingers through his hair, and turns to you.

“i really like you. and akio. possibly love if you’ll let me.”

you choke.

even after all these weeks, he’s still got an unimaginable hold on you. he’s too powerful, too perfect to fall in love with, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted and he’s offering himself to you. 

“atsumu was trying to help me get over you, you know.” you laugh stiffly, tilting your head just enough so that the tears don’t start slipping out. you take the opportunity to bring a pillow into your lap and promptly shove your face into it. 

“did it help?”

you swear you can hear the grin on his face.

“you’re goddamn lucky it didn’t”

-

for the first time in years you wake up with two more bodies in your bed. it’s not just your bed anymore though is it?

 there’s a bit of the sun peeking onto the foot of the bed and beside you, akio’s tucked into your stomach while wakatoshis got his arm around you. your son’s mouth is open and drooling on the sheets and his little fingers are wrapped around toshi’s forearm. reaching over to your nightstand you grab your phone and take a quick picture just before akio shifts back into the blankets. it’s starting to get a little stuffy but you can stand it, the view is incomparable anyway.

it’s warm in the house, and you’re full of love.