#and eye think more games should have that

[lavnderwonu]

So High School | Kim Mingyu

pairing: fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader

rating: fluff, mature

genre: non-idol au, slice of life, established relationship

summary: you and your fiancé haven't discussed the idea of you having children, but with your wedding approaching, the idea of starting a family with him has been on your mind.

warnings: please read ALL! contains smut! not much but a little! (!!!) some time skips, reader gets pregnant, planned pregnancy, reader's mom loves mingyu, reader deals with morning sickness (for my fellow emetophobics this may be triggering!), minwon coworkers mentioned, smut warnings: creampie, unprotected sex, multiple rounds mentioned, backshots, fingering.

word count: 3k

AHEM! go listen to so high school by taylor swift (perhaps while you read!)

author's note!: i listened to taylor waaaay too much while i was writing this, as you can probably tell by the title 🫣 what can i say! guilty. my first time writing slice of life au! i had fun lowkey. AGHHH i just love writing cute mingyu esp when it involves future dad mingyu. the song lyrics are meant to be spacers for the time-skips btw! shoutout to @jenoslutie for also supporting my vision with this 💋 muah xo

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I feel so high school every time I look at you, I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you...

Mingyu was your dream man in many ways than one. The perfect boy to bring home to your parents, cooked delicious meals for you, and overall made you feel safe. 

You two had been engaged for months now, and wedding planning was well underway, the date set for early into the new year. As if it wasn’t stressful enough, your mom had already started questioning whether the two of you had wanted children, or planned to in the future. The answer was always the same,

“Mom, I don’t know… we haven’t talked about it into a lot of detail… maybe later on…” or “C’mon, we’re still young, Mom!” 

Mingyu didn’t know any of this, and you’d probably never tell him, not wanting him to feel pressured by your badgering mother. You both knew you wanted children eventually, but you never talked that far into the future.

But… you also thought… maybe you would want to have children, if it was with Mingyu. 

Mingyu would be the father to play dress up and makeovers with your daughter, have tea parties with her, or play with faux tools with your son and pretend to fix things, and play with plastic dinosaurs.

You couldn't picture anybody that would be more perfect to do it with than him.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two...

Mingyu stands at the kitchen counter, cooking dinner like he usually does, and he usually insists since he gets home a little earlier from work than you do most days. 

You come from the kitchen after changing out of your work clothes to see him chopping garlic as a pot is boiling on the stove. 

“What are you making?”

“Agio e olio,” Mingyu responds, looking up to smile at you briefly. “I know it’s your favorite, and you said you were craving it.”

You smile, coming over to kiss him on the cheek quickly. “Thank you, you make it so good anyway.” You chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes. 

He tosses the garlic in a pan on the stove, stirring it a little, then adds the pasta to the boiling water.

You decide now is the time to break your silence, and tell him what’s been on your mind lately.

“Gyu,” You speak up. “… I think we should talk about something.” 

“What?” Mingyu’s gaze turns to meet yours, a concerned look on his face, and you immediately want to kiss him and make it go away.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking…” You pause, racking your brain on how to word what you’re about to tell him, also given that you didn’t want to scare him. “What do you think about us… having a baby?” 

You look up at his undeniable surprised expression; after all you did come out of nowhere with that statement.

“I mean, I know we haven’t really discussed it much, and we’re getting married in a few months… but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I want to, we’re at that age-“ You break out into a nervous ramble before he cuts you off.

“I’ve thought about it too. I thought it should be something that we should…you know… talk about.” Mingyu says.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, or I guess, on us.” You continue. “I know we’re not married officially yet, and our wedding isn’t until a few more months, but I don’t know, I think I want to.” 

Mingyu turns to you, smiling ear to ear in the adorable happy puppy way he typically does when he’s over the top excited about something. “I know, me too.”

“Does this mean… we’re trying?” You can’t even hide your smile, your cheeks hurt as you attempt to be the least bit nonchalant.

“Yeah… fuck… c’mere.” Mingyu pulls you closer to him, kissing you fervently.

You pull back, releasing his grip from your waist.

“Hey, after dinner,” You smirk, giggling at his eagerness. “You’re gonna burn your garlic.”

“Mingyu… I can’t, fuck-“ You whine, your face nearly buried into the pillow underneath you.

“Yeah you can baby…” Mingyu grunts, his hand slides up your back to push you down even more. “Taking it all like a good girl…”

You nearly collapse as you can barely hold yourself up anymore, and you’re being pushed forward almost to the headboard from the force of him behind you.

“I’m gonna come, ‘gyu.” You cry, your hand trailing down to rub tight circles on your clit, making your thighs tremble as you push yourself closer to the edge. 

“Go on baby…” Mingyu groans, feeling you get tighter around him. “Cum all over my cock like a good girl.”

You cry his name again as he pushes you over the edge, white-knuckling the sheets as he keeps thrusting inside you, almost even harder.

“Fuck…”  He groans as he slows down, stilling before he comes inside you.

He pulls out, watching himself drip out of you briefly as he curses under his breath, before he pushes it back inside you with two fingers, making you whine.

“Sorry, baby…” Mingyu sweetly apologizes.

You flip over on your back, pulling him down to kiss him.

“I wanna go again…” You say against his lips, pushing his sweaty long hair back.

“Really?” He asks sweetly, leaning down to kiss your neck a few times. “Wasn’t too much?”

“Never…”

Truth, dare, spin bottles, You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle, Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto...

The next few weeks were just the usual. Going into work during the day, shopping for the wedding with your sister, … Mingyu practically never leaving you alone, but that you wouldn’t complain about.

“What kind of flowers are you guys doing?” Your sister asks you. The two of you made plans to get coffee, and you guys typically talked about whatever. She always voiced her opinion on your life whether it was boyfriends, career moves, and now: your wedding.

“White lilies; one of my favorites. Mingyu said I could just pick what I wanted, he’s happy with whatever I choose.” You say.

“That’s sweet,” She smiles, stirring her matcha latte. “Even though, he probably doesn’t care.” She chuckles.

“You’re probably right, I think he has other things on his mind other than flowers.” You laugh, only you know what you mean by that. 

You never told her the both of you had been trying to have a baby.

“I’ve always liked him, though, you know that.” She smiles. “If there’s anybody you marry and spend forever with, i'm glad it’s him. He’s just right for you.”

You smile, glancing down as your gaze flickers on your sparkling engagement ring under the coffee shop lights.

You’re definitely glad it’s him.

“Do you mind if we go into the grocery store down the street? I need to just run in and get a few things.” She asks you.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. I could probably use a few things too.” 

“How do you know if a watermelon is a really good one?” She asks you, as the fruit by the entrance catches her eye.

“You’re asking me?” You laugh. “I have no idea, I have heard though if they’re a dark green, it’s too watery.”

“You were always good at picking them, I know Mom used to always say that.” She replies. “Maybe I won’t get one, are they even in season?”

“Probably not, it’s November. Anyway, what did you need here?” You say, grabbing a hand basket for yourself.

“Just usual stuff, yogurt… eggs, oat milk, some strawberries… whatever else I find that I think i need.” She says, placing strawberries and avocados in her cart. Already straying from the list. 

You follow her, bagging up some apples, cucumbers, and brussel sprouts into your basket. 

You’re both wandering down the ice cream aisle, as you’re grabbing whatever pint of peanut butter ice cream you can find, when your sister speaks up.

“Oh! Let’s go to the hygiene section, I need to get some tampons. That time of the month soon.”

You pause, ice cream in hand, suddenly racking your brain trying to remember when the last time your period was. A few weeks ago? Last month? Were you supposed to get it? Were you late?

“Y/n…? What’s wrong? Everything okay?” She asks, seemingly able to read your inner monologue going on in your head. 

“Y-yeah…” You reply, placing the ice cream in your basket, all while your heart is still racing. Was it joy? Nervousness? “It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I had my period…”

I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs 'Cause I feel so high school, Every time I look at you...

“I feel bad doing this without him,” You say, staring down at the two blinking pregnancy tests on the counter. “Mingyu should be here…”

“He’ll be home from work soon won’t he? You’ll tell him then. C’mon, he’ll understand, practically sister code for me to be the first one to know.” She replies, checking the time on her phone. 

It’s true, you both always did tell each other everything before you told anybody else. 

“It’s almost time.”

“I can’t look.” You anxiously turn away. “It’s killing me.”

“How did this happen?” She asks. “I mean… not to be nosey….”

“Well we talked about it, and we’ve been kinda… sorta, trying to get pregnant.” 

“What?! How come you didn’t tell me you were?” She exclaims, playfully shoving you.

“We decided to about a little over a month ago. We talked about it, we decided it was something we both wanted,” You start, just as her phone timer goes off, you quickly turn around from the counter. “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t look.”

“I’ll do it first,” She says, shoving her way in front of you. “Oh my god… y/n…” You can hear the excitement and smile in her voice.

You turn around, facing the two tests.

You see it, “pregnant”, displayed clearly on both.

“Oh my god, I don’t,” You almost stutter, lost for words. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Good news?” She asks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You smile, suddenly becoming teary, feeling a bunch of emotions at once. Excitement. Nervousness.  “I just- fuck… I wish Mingyu was here. I didn’t want to find out like this.”

“Relax, you’ll tell him later,” She laughs. “Especially ‘cause I know you won’t be able to keep this from him long.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. There’s no way I’m holding it in.”

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me...

You spend the evening trying to decide elaborate ways that you’ll tell him. 

Putting a test in a gift bag as a present? Corny.

Hiding it somewhere and letting him find it? Too lame.

You decided to literally just come right out and tell him, especially because you didn’t want to figure out some cliche way of getting it out.

Mingyu comes home from work, greeting you as he walks in the door, adorably kissing your forehead as he wraps his arms around you, perfectly engulfing you.

“How was your day, honey?” He sweetly asks you, genuinely curious as he’s awaiting your answer. 

“It was good actually, I had coffee with my sister, then we went to the grocery store, doesn’t sound like much but we had fun.” You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling.

“But it’s better now that you’re here.” 

Mingyu smiles, kissing you again.

“I’m going to get changed really quick, okay?” Mingyu says.

You jokingly pout. “Aw, but you look so nice in your slacks and button up shirt… at least let me savor it.” You reach up, undoing a few buttons on his shirt.

“Enjoying this?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Yes, very.” You smile.

“Well I was gonna ask you, if you wanted to, Wonwoo and Seungcheol asked if we wanted to go out and get dinner with them, and hang out maybe get some drinks.” He continues, before he starts walking off to your shared bedroom to change, as you follow him. “Wonwoo asked me before I left the office.” 

“I don’t know… maybe?” You reply, hesitating a bit.

Meanwhile your mind works a mile a minute trying to think of how to break this news of yours to him.

“It wouldn’t be until a little later, if that’s better. No rush.” Mingyu says, nonchalantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. What a distraction. 

He slips on a white t-shirt , and gray sweatpants; his usual after work attire. Suddenly you wonder if whatever you have to tell him is really that important anyway, and you immediately consider just saying “forget it” and fucking him right here in the early hours of the evening. What’d be the big deal? You were already pregnant, anyways.

No! You quickly shake that thought from your mind, refocusing.

“Gyu,” You start, getting his full attention. “There’s something… I have to tell you something.”

“What?” 

“I’m not even really sure how to tell you, um hang on,” You continue, leaving the room quickly to retrieve one of the pregnancy tests you’d left in the bathroom. 

You come back, very obviously holding something behind your back.

“I guess I should say I kind of have a surprise to tell you.”

“What? What?” Mingyu asks, eager already by the way you’re already smirking, unable to contain yourself.

“It’s, um, this…” You start, pulling the test from behind your back. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I was gonna plan something but I couldn’t wait.” You laugh, smiling ear to ear.

Mingyu takes it from you, seemingly uncaring, or forgetting, that you literally peed on the thing. His mouth drops opened, in awe.

“Oh my god…” He speaks, beaming. “When did you find out?” 

“Today, actually.” You say. “I wound up taking a test, and… yeah.” 

You sigh. “I feel so weird about it, I know I was expecting it but I feel so excited and nervous at the same time.”

You glance up at Mingyu, and you see him still examining the test in his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu nods, his eyes meeting yours and you see he’s now smiling. “I’m just… happy, surprised..”

“I mean, cmon, what were we really expecting…” You joke, blushing.

“You know what I mean, it’s still crazy to me.” Mingyu comes closer to you, kissing you. 

“Yeah, it sure is…” You smile up at him. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Mingyu reassures you, speaking softly. “Just get it out…”

Mingyu kneels behind you on the cold tile floor, holding your hair back as you’re hanging your head over the toilet as your stomach empties its contents.

“There you go…” 

You wonder how he can even stand to be in the bathroom with you, if the roles were reversed, you’d be outside the door nearly gagging.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks, helping you sit up, as he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. 

You slowly nod as you flush, still feeling a touch of nausea. “Yeah, can you just- just stay here for a little bit.” 

Mingyu sits on the tile floor as he leans against the bathtub, and he guides you back to sit in front of him.

You lean back into him, and he leans down and kisses your shoulder. You catch a glance at his watch on his wrist even in the dim light of the very early morning.

“Oh my god, Gyu, is it really 5am?” You groggily ask, feeling sorry. “You have to work in the morning, don’t you?”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.” Mingyu reassures you. “I can always go in a little later, I wanna make sure you’re okay.” 

“…I think I’m good now,” You say, starting to stand up slowly, as Mingyu helps you all the way. “…You know, I have heard that the more nauseas you are, it probably means you’re having a girl. And if you have none at all, it’s probably a boy.”

Mingyu chuckles, “Where do you come up with this? Is that even a thing?” 

“The internet… you know, social media. Everything’s on there.” You protest.

“You’re delirious,” Mingyu playfully rolls his eyes. “Cmon, let’s go back to bed.”

“Gyu, we have to leave in like an hour,” You say, as you’re getting ready in the bathroom, finishing up your final touches on your hair. “I don’t want to be late for dinner at my parents house.”

Mingyu stands in the doorway now, “This okay?” He shows off a navy blue polo shirt and black jeans. 

“Yeah, honey, you look nice.” You smile. “Besides, you could wear anything around her, she adores you anyways.” 

It was true. Your mother would always be calling Mingyu to help around the house when your Father was away on a business trip. She needed help fixing something? She’d call Mingyu. She needs help building a side table? You bet she’s calling Mingyu. His height was also a bonus, being able to reach things stored higher up.

Mingyu smiles at you adoringly, as his eyes trail down your body.

“What?” You ask when you notice him.

“You’re starting to show a little,” He smiles. “You look cute.”

You giggle, placing your hands on your stomach. “Yeah I know, she wants to be seen now, she’s done hiding.” 

“Well, are my girls ready to go?” Mingyu smiles, kissing you. 

“Yeah,” You giggle, smiling as you kiss him again. “Let’s go.” 

It's true, swear, scouts honor You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her.

tags: @jenoslutie @wonuwrites @aaniag @cosmojinyoung

[papercorgiworld]

Gryffindor Fever

Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor!reader

Brought to you by this request. While the Slytherins usually bully you, everything drastically changes when you go missing and Mattheo finds out he might have, what Pansy calls: Gryffindor fever.

Happy readings lovely readers! 💛

“Wooh, your test went about as well as the last gryffindor quidditch game.” Mattheo laughed and half of the class chimed as you looked horrified at your test. Snape shushed the class only to hack into your emotional state himself. 

And if that had been it for today, you wouldn’t have complained but leave it to the slytherin douchebags to make your day worse. A smug looking Draco pushes everyone to the side to catch up with you, his cold eyes snaring at you, followed by his gang. “Being stupid can’t be helped. It comes with gryffindor colours, but dressing like you fell into your grandma’s laundry basket is your choice.” Theo snickers as he pulls your home knit scarf. You loosen your scarf and before you fully register what you're saying you’ve already snapped back at the tall slytherin. “Says the guy who doesn’t know how to use a comb.” You snap, darting mean eyes at his bird’s nest of a hairdo. Mattheo has to press his lips together, hiding his amusement at your feistiness, as Theo takes a big step towards you, only to be held back by Enzo. “Dumbledore is around the corner, think about the house cup, mate.” Enzo ushers in a loud whisper, making Theo turn around but not before his dead eyes curse you to the beyond. 

You give them a nasty look, before turning around a corner. “Nice one. Those guys need to be put in their place more often. Otherwise they’ll think they own hongwarts.” George says, but his voice echoes in the back of your head as you feel yourself get lightheaded. Suddenly you feel arms wrap around you and after a few deep breaths you manage to look up and meet Fred’s eyes. You regain strength and lift your hand to rest on your forehead. “I got dizzy for a moment.” You analyse out loud in a soft whisper. “Yeah, we noticed.” Fred voices his concern as he helps you sit down against a cold wall. George immediately conjures a cup of water for you, which you take with a soft smile. “I got way too worked up over my test and Snape’s lecture and those- those idiots.” The twins look at you with sympathy and to each other with a glitter in their eyes, for sure they would play a fantastic trick on those Slytherins for you getting so stressed. 

It was Hermoine’s advice that convinced you to ignore and avoid everyone and everything silver and green coloured. “Just study and find peace in the books.” She had told you over dinner that same day. You following her advice hadn’t gone unnoticed as Slytherins started to miss their favourite gryffindor to make a fool of. Harry was a sensitive issue after he and Draco had almost kissed him when drunk at a Hufflepuff party. Hermione was old news. And Ron was just too easy of a target. You were perfect, but as of the last few days: unfindable, since you hit in a corner of the library only nerdy ravenclaws and Hermione knew about. And apparently also Fred and George. 

“You gotta eat!” George exclaimed, losing his patience with you. “No. I got to study.” You mumble not looking up from your book. “Failing one test will not kill you, starvation will.” Fred added as he tried to reach for your book. You quickly pull your book closer. “I already failed a test, if I fail another Snape will kill me.” “Your brain needs food.” Fred says with a voice low and serious. “Later…” You say, your eyes meeting his for only a second. The twins sigh, but leave for the great hall in defeat. “Unbelievable, that one.” You hear George whisper, making you look at them walking away. I really should eat… after this chapter I should definitely eat something.

You did not eat after that chapter, in fact you studied late. Robbing yourself of sleep and draining yourself completely.

“Do you think (y/n) is alright?” Mattheo blurs out as he stares at the fire, standing still with his hands in his pockets. Pansy looks up from the novel she was reading, carefully studying Mattheo through her lashes before scanning the empty common room. It’s only when Mattheo turns to look at her that she puts her book away. “Do I look like the Gryffindor whisperer to you? No clue what that girl thinks. At this point I don’t even know what you’re thinking… What’s she to you?” Mattheo shrugs. “Just haven’t seen her in a while.” Pansy fakes a pout. “You must have the same thing as Draco…” Mattheo frowns, but Pansy’s quick to explain herself as she gets up and whispers in Mattheo’s ear: “Gryffindor fever.” 

Mattheo gives Pansy a look of disgust but quickly finds that he has no counterargument, because he really was worried about you. Pansy cheekily tilts her head to the side as she watches Mattheo struggle. Just as Mattheo has gathered enough words for a sentence the door to the common room is blown open and Mattheo is slung against a wall, making Pansy shriek and duck behind a couch. “Where is she, you snake?” George yells as both twins point their wands at Mattheo who is picking himself up off the ground. “What?!”

***

With panic in their eyes Fred, George and Mattheo flew over hogwarts’ grounds, quickly Mattheo grew impatient and started to explore the edge of the dark forest. You had been last seen by a hufflepuff who thought you were looking for potion ingredients, depending on what you were looking for you would have probably gone into the forest. Mattheo felt his heart racing, what if something bad had happened to you. He suddenly realised how silly he had been pretending he didn’t care about anyone, leave alone annoying Gryffindors. His grip on his broom tightened as it dawned on him that he only wanted people to think he didn’t care about you and that seemed so silly now. 

From a distance your body looks lifeless and Mattheo’s heart stopped beating for what felt like minutes until he wrapped you in his arms. A soft sound escapes your lips and a most gentle kiss on your head assures you that you’ll be alright. “Let’s get you back to the castle and all warmed up.” You were still pretty out of it but you could’ve sworn that sounded like Mattheo Riddle, but like the soft gentle version… Clearly you were not well yet, because that would be impossible. Instinctively you grab onto his warm clothes and snuggle in. Your whole body was drained of energy but you knew you were safe.

George opened the door to the Gryffindor common room and Fred held the door open while George threw everyone off the couch. Every Gryffindor in the room stood gawking as Mattheo carried you inside carefully. As Mattheo ever so gently lay you down on the couch, he heard Ron whisper: “Now I’ve seen everything.” Making the slytherin roll his eyes as he could already imagine the red head’s dumb face. Fred leans over you, softly whispering your name. George pushes both Mattheo and Fred away so he can lay a blanket over you and Fred tucks you in a little more as your eyes flutter open. Every student in the room has now surrounded the couch you’re laying on. “What happened?” Hermione asks, eyes darting between the twins. “Think she passed out.” George answers and Fred nods. “Yeah.” You whisper and you open your eyes fully to see everyone hang over the couch staring at you. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten and slept a bit more instead of just studying for Snape’s stupid test.”  

Mattheo just keeps his distance, feeling guilty for everytime he mistreated you. Not saying a word since he feels unworthy. Slowly he makes his way to the door as he hears you explain what happened. “Hey, is it possible I heard Riddle’s voice when I was in the forest?” You suddenly ask, making Mattheo hold his breath as the room falls silent. “Yeah…” George says as he moves away, so you see a soft looking Mattheo staring back at you. Mattheo swallows hard, gathering courage to say what he really wishes to say. “Take care of yourself.” There’s a sincerity in his voice, but the way he raises his hand to awkwardly wave you goodbye makes the whole ordeal just bizarre. Ron just stares at Mattheo with wide eyes as he leaves. “If I didn’t know any better I would think he genuinely cares for you, (y/n).” Yeah, if I didn’t know any better… I would think the same.

***

Mattheo had been on your mind ever since he left so awkwardly that night. You would often catch yourself trying to remember the warmth of that forehead kiss, his smell when you held onto him and his gentle words. It seemed so surreal. You shake your head trying to focus on the test in front of you, but again your thoughts drift to how ever since you passed out, not a single person has bothered you. Your eyes wander over to Mattheo obviously trying to see what Theo is writing on his test. In order to get yourself to focus, you promise yourself that you’ll confront Mattheo after Snape’s class. 

You patiently wait outside the classroom while Mattheo and Enzo try to suck up to Snape, since they had a bad feeling about the test. When both guys enter the hallway you immediately step in front of them. “Mattheo, can we talk?” Your voice came out softer than you expected. Enzo licked his lips, but Mattheo made sure nothing cheeky was said and sent Enzo away with one curt nod. “How did your test go?” Mattheo asks, to your surprise he sounded like any other student. There was no mocking tone and mean eyes staring you down. “It went pretty good, I guess… but you never know with Snape. He’s not really fond of Gryffindors.” Mattheo smiles. “You don’t say. Hadn’t noticed.” You chuckle and his eyes linger on your lips, adoring your soft laugh. 

“How are you?” He quickly picks up the conversation, worried his staring would weird you out. “I’m good. I’ve been eating properly and Ginny’s been making sure I go to bed on time, Fred and George’s orders.” A soft huff escapes Mattheo’s lips and you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. “They’re good friends, those Weasley’s. You’re lucky you have them watching over you.” You couldn’t help but smile at him with loving eyes. There was something so adorable about Mattheo, you couldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t standing right in front of you. “Thank you.” You whisper, making Mattheo’s eyes shoot up to lock onto yours. “I’m lucky to have you as well.” You move to stand on your tippy toes and give a feather light kiss on his cheeks, turning the cold Slytherin into a blushing love struck puppy.  

Mattheo felt himself heat up and just stood there nailed to the floor as you walked away. And he could help but think back to Pansy’s words: This must be Gryffindor fever. 

Word count: 1803

[livwritessometimes]

At Least One Of Us Got Our Happy Ending

: Part 15 (Lando's Version)

: Spring Fling is finally here…that’s a good thing right?

: Prev | Next

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - You can refer to Interesting *Cue Evil Laugh* to get the context for a certain part.

…

As Y/n and Lando watched Oscar pull his girl in for a kiss, she couldn't help but join some of their friends in hooting for the new couple. It was nice to see Oscar finally be with the girl he'd madly been head-over-heels for—Y/n could recall countless conversations they'd had about this. Smiling at the scene, she felt Lando pull her close to him, his hand resting on her waist.

"Should we get back to the table?" Asked Lando

Looking away from the scene in front of her, Y/n nodded at him and started leading him to their table.

There sat Max, one of Lando's friends who he constantly played games with, and his date.

Taking a seat, Y/n said, "It's so nice to see Oscar finally be happy."

"It is! I'm glad he came today," Lando said, looking at Oscar.

Max laughed to himself, leaning back against the chair he said, "I guess it's nice when things work out the way they're supposed to, huh?" He said, looking at Lando.

Lando narrowed his eyes at Max, "Max..." He said in a warning tone.

Confused by the exchange Y/n asked, "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

Max shrugged casually, taking a sip from the flask he had snuck in, "Oh, it's just funny how it all started you know? I just didn't think you guys would actually make it," Max finished.

Lando could feel his heart beating faster, "Max," He said again this time with hint of anger.

Y/n couldn't help but tense up, looking between Lando and Max. "What does he mean by 'How it started' Lando?" She asked.

"Oh nothing, you know how I am, I love to talk nonsense," Max said realizing that he might have said a little too much.

"Lando...What does he mean by that?" Y/n asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando sighed deeply, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. He felt angry—angry at Max for opening his mouth when it was not needed, angry at himself for agreeing to do such a stupid thing.

"Y/n..." He started, his voice hesitant. Reaching out for her hand, he said, "It wasn't supposed to mean anything...I had no idea that I would actually fall in love..." He said. He could see the dread wash over Y/n's eyes.

*flashback*

*present*

Y/n felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. All hope and dreams for an amazing night disappeared in an instant. She sat there in silence as she let Lando's words sink in.

"So I was just a 'Dare'?" She asked, still in disbelief.

Lando avoided her gaze, his throat feeling dry. "I—I never imagined that it would turn into this," He said. "At first, it was just a stupid dare, I was just angry about the complaint, but I never thought that..." Lando's voice trailed off. He was not sure what he could say or do to make any of it sound better.

Y/n could feel her eyes sting with tears, "So does that mean all this time, every single conversation we've had, every single moment we've spent together...It was all just a game to you?" Y/n said as tears trickled down her face.

"No!," Lando said suddenly, a little too loud for his liking. He tried to reach out for her hand, but she pulled away, "I didn't mean for it to be like that. It was just a dare at the start, I admit, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that I just couldn't continue. I was going to tell you, I swear Y/n," Lando said. "I just didn't know how...." He trailed off again.

"So if you hadn't "fallen in love" with me, would you have still gone through with your plan?" Y/n asked, her voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

Lando opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn't have an answer. Deep down, he knew that no answer would make things right. The damage had already been done.

Y/n stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Congrats!" She spat, her voice filled with bitterness. "You've won your stupid dare. I really hope it was worth it Lando," she said as she started walking towards the exit.

"Y/n please wait!" Lando pleaded.

"NO!" Y/n said, finally letting go of the emotions she had been holding onto till now. "Don't you dare follow me. You've lost the right to do that," she said, her voice cracking at the end.

And with that, she made her way out of the hall, taking Lando's heart with every step she took.

…

Tags: @regalbanshee | @be-your-coffee-pot | @mrsbrxkkxr | @princessria127 | @moonraysandstars | @prettiest-at-the-party | @theblueblub | @magixpracticality | @slytherinholland | @overlyexcitedoutlaw | @marvel-at-stucky | @crumbssss | @a-beaverhausen | @felicityforyou | @gigigreens | @jas0nluvr | @khaylin27 | @imsiriuslyreal | @cwiphswmwasohmm | @wobblymug | @e-nonsense | @raizelchrysanderoctavius | @papaya-twinks | @vintagefucksstuff | @st4rg1rln | @redstappen | @iamred-iamyellow | @tashisgf | @ghost-of-student-sufferings | @saachiep81 | @lozzamez3 | @ravisinghs-wife | @elizamoe133 | @anthonylockwoodandco111 | @formulaal | @luvsforme | @annabellelee | @a-disturbing-self-reflection | @emryb | @grovelingmen | @illicit-affcirs | @iwilleatyourgod | @youre-on-your-ownkid | @originaldreamerdragon | @landorris | @mountvesuvu | @chezmardybum | @littlegrapejuice | @spitesfvl-blog | @juleshadalittlelamb | @vicurious28 | @niyu2208 |

[cookiealchemieart]

ok! The Plague

So you know how you can have a staring contest with the harsh princess in chapter 1? What if you could keep just staring? Well, if you should do that, you and the Princess stare at each other until you both rot. When the cycle starts anew, the cabin has taken the appearance of a medieval quarantine, albeit a filthy one. the chain she's bound to is rusted, and the basement is coated in a thin, spidery, film of mold. She's less a person, and more a shambling mass of miasma and parasites. For my magnus archives girlies (gender neutral) she's like if the corruption was a princess. I'm not sure what the options in her route are? Like I imagine her acting loopy but deadpan. She's confused, more than anything, why you came to kill her but just stood there staring until you both rotted. She's not hostile, at least at first. Unless you try to initiate a staring contest, to which she jams her fingers in your eyes to keep that from happening. "Don't make me do that again! I'm not playing your game until we turn to dust!" Girl is not just affected by the mold poisoning, she IS the mold poisoning. I can also see a route where she convinces you to take a worm out of the cabin in her stead, and when you do so, that worm digs and retrieves more. And the swarm of them tunnels and beings you the plague's heart. The Hands come get her at this point. I'm not sure if you'd have a new voice with you and what that new voice would be, but if not I imagine you'd get both paranoid and cold. If you stab her your blade instantly rusts and crumbles; freaking the narrator out. I'm also imagining a route where she falls apart into a colony of worms and tries a forceful takeover of TLQ's body, kinda like the Spectre, but much grosser. Could also be a throwback to this picture from the Nightmare!

If you guys got suggestions for her, let me know! >What do you think of this vessel? This one is a picture of flesh, carved into decay. A single step in an elaborate dance; held in the balance of life and death, as something neither and both. She will make for an infectious heart.

Do not mourn her, she has returned to dust.

Some fan princesses before i go to bed. Lore on them in the morning if anyone cares put ut in the tags if ya want that ig

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist @autisticintr0vert @bunchogravie @thefirstromantics @kissrotten @natgf123 @elliespinkyandringfingers @elyaaaaaaaa @love7poetry @alex-awesome-22 @soodle-noup @mellifluousgirll

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Who knew you could find a lot more than a basketball game at The Garden.

Warnings: Swearing, heavy flirting, mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.4k | unedited

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

“We should probably go find our seats.” You nudge Laura, “I think the game is about to start.”

“We have time, relax.” Laura laughs, “Have you ever been to a basketball game like this before?”

You shake your head, looking around, “No, the only basketball game I’ve been to was my high school team, who absolutely sucked.”

“Well, the Celtics don’t suck.” She looks at you, “That’s who you’re rooting for, right?”

“Well yeah, obviously.” You shake your head and pull your phone out of your pocket. You snap a picture of the court, tagging the team before posting it to your Instagram story.

“Alright. I’ll catch you guys later.” Laura turns around, “I’m so glad you got offered courtside seats.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how. They just dm’d me asking if I wanted to come, I figured it would be fun and I know you like them so.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

You laugh, “That’s okay. I’ll just settle on you buying me dinner afterwards.”

“Oh that’s a good deal.” She glances back at you as she walks towards the steps. You follow her down and find your seats at the end of the court.

You look around, feeling kind of underdressed at some of the other girls are dressed up, heels and all.

“Stop that. You’re good.” Laura nudges you, “You dressed perfect.” You furrow your brows, “How do you know when I do that?”

“I know you.” She smirks, “A little too well, at that.”

“It’s kind of scary.” You laugh, turning your attention back to the court.

Halfway through the first quarter, you pull out your phone, snapping a picture of your jeans, sneakers, and the game that’s going on.

Taking a video and adding it too while you’re at it.

You’re an influencer at a popular basketball game, might as well give them the publicity you think they invited you for, right?

“This is actually quite entertaining.” You lean in to Laura, booing when the crowd boos. You were getting into it.

You bring your phone up, smirking as you see an Instagram notification - Christopher Sturniolo replied to your story.

You angle your phone, smirking at Laura, “Look who just-“

“Girl, you better get on that.” She nods, “What did he say?”

You tap on it, biting your lip as it opens into the thread, if you look closely I’m in the background of that video.

You click on the story and rewatch it, smirking when you see a quick glimpse of Chris. You swipe out and type back, Look at that, you are. Enjoying the game so far?

As you stare down at your phone, Laura nudges you and you look over at her, then to the direction she’s pointing.

A smile washes over your lips as you see Chris, Nate, and Matt on the Jumbotron.

You watch as they all smile and wave and then sure enough, your face is on it. It rapidly changes to a smile, to a shocked expression, then to a happy expression as you and Laura both wave.

“Oh my god that was embarrassing.” You mumble as you sink down into your chair, “I didn’t expect that.”

“We’re beautiful women sitting courtside at a Celtics game, what did you expect, y/n?” Laura laughs and cheers as Nick and Mikayla appear on the screen.

You clap and yell before returning your attention back to your phone, reading Chris’ message, I am, you?

You tap the screen, tilting your head slightly, It’s definitely something new. I’ve never been to one of these games before, but it’s exciting. Go Celtics!🍀

“Oh my god.” You lay your hand over your face, “I’m so stupid. You would think, just by how this conversation was going, I never spoke to this man before in my life.”

Laura turns your phone towards her and she can’t help but giggle, “Noo! That was cute!” You roll your eyes at her and look up at the game that has restarted.

You couldn’t help but find yourself looking for Chris through the moving bodies on the court. It’s not that you and Chris have history, per se.. it’s more or less feelings that neither of you have displayed for one another, yet.

You’ve done a video with them before, and you’ve stayed friends with all of them afterwards, and surprise, you’re more close with Chris than the other two.

You look down at your phone as it vibrates and you can’t help but smile as you click on Chris’ message, Atta girl, but we gotta get you to some more games. You’re from Boston for Christ sake lol.

You smirk as you answer back, Is that you offering to buy my ticket? Because if so, count me in.

“Was that.. too straight forward?” You look at Laura and she shakes her head, “You know what you want, and I say you just better go for it.”

You chew on your cheek, the smirk returning to your lips as you watch the chat bubbles bob up and down before his message comes through, I’ll take you to every one of their games if you don’t mind traveling.

“Oh he is so into you.” Laura mumbles with a smirk, “Ask him to go to dinner afterwards, it can be as a group or whatever so it’s not awkward.”

“I will, just.. give me a second.” You go back to typing out your response, If you think I’d have an issue with traveling, then you clearly don’t know me at all lol

You weren’t even interested in the game anymore, you were more interested into talking to Chris.

Chris responds, there’s another game here on the 12th, I can get us tickets right now. Or the 13th at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn.

You take a deep breath, Why not both? I can get the Brooklyn ones if you want?

You hit send and you bounce your leg, trying to keep your heart from racing out of your chest. You glance over the court, seeing Matt and Nate pick on him for smiling so hard.

“How’s it going?” Laura asks and you shrug, “May have just planned out one if not two dates.”

“look at you go, girl.” She smirks at you and your phone vibrates, sending an excited chill up your spine. He sends a screenshot of the gotten tickets and you smile as you shake your head, Looks like it’s a date, or dates? I don’t know, but I’m excited to understand the world of basketball better.

You look around, clapping when the fans wearing Celtic clothing clap. Your attention is ripped from the game instantly as soon as you feel the vibration, hell it wasn’t even on it anyway, Well, since we finally scheduled a date, I guess it’s safe for me to say you look gorgeous tonight.

You purse your lips as your cheeks heat up, It was safe before, way before lol, but thank you. You look good in green, it almost makes up for the shots you took earlier.

You and Chris are always teasing each other, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for one of you to start picking.

You look up, watching him cover his face as he laughs, turning to tell Nate and Matt, what you assume is what you said you saw.

Ohh fuck, you saw that? Now it’s even more embarrassing.

You can’t help but giggle, You were under a lot of pressure, we know lmao.

It’s almost like Chris wasn’t interested in the game either anymore, he would answer back almost instantly, Yeah, the pressure. We’ll go with that. Do you have any Celtics merch?

You glance down from the game, Look over and see.

You set your phone down and move your hair out of the way of the Celtics logo on your white crew neck. You stare over at Chris and he gives you a smile, raising his hand to give you a thumbs up.

He looks back down at his phone and yours vibrates, I like that also you know what I just realized? I have your number, why are we talking through insta?

You laugh slightly, I honestly have no idea.

Right after you hit send, you get a text from him, Hi.

You smirk, Hi, how’s the game?

“Moved onto texting I see.” Laura teases as she sits back down, “Here.” She hands you a drink, “Figured you could somehow manage to quench your thirst a-“

“Alright.” You cut her off, “You’re going to make me blush even more.” You laugh and take a sip before you steal some of her popcorn, “I didn’t even know you left.”

“You’ve been glued to your phone, I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” She smirks and shakes her head, “It’s about damn time something happens between the two of you.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and look down at your phone, I don’t know, I haven’t been paying that much attention to it honestly.

Same here. I’ve been a little distracted, you look around, realizing that it’s halftime, “Huh, halftime. That was fast.”

“Well th-“

“Can it.” You laugh, “I know.” You look down and bring your phone up to read your new text, Distracted by what, ma?

You glance up at him, smiling slightly when you see Chris actually paying attention to the game. You look back down and type, Oh you know, just by this cute guy finally asking me out on a date, I’ve only been waiting for.. oh I don’t know.. months now.

You hit send and immediately look back up, giving Matt a weird face when he looks at you with a smirk.

He laughs and your attention turns back to Chris, who immediately picks up his phone and starts smiling like an idiot, Months huh? Man that guy fucking sucks.

You let out a slight laugh, He definitely made up for it though, well almost….

You look up, watching some of game while it takes Chris all of two seconds to reply, Almost huh?

You answer back just as fast, I mean, yeah. He bought me tickets to see two basketball games and I’m just hoping he’d ask me to dinner after this one, but we’ll see how it goes.

Your heart was racing. You’ve always thought that the two of you were better off as friends, but now that you think about it, you were always each others, just never official.

“God you guys just need to meet at half court and have a passionate kiss.” Laura smirks, tilting her head, “That would actually be so romantic, all of the people cheering you guys on.” She sighs, “I need to find a boyfriend.”

You laugh, “As much as I would love that, I think we’ll settle on keeping the pda to a minimum.. for now.” You smirk and look down at your phone, Do you want to grab dinner after this y/n?

I would love to, Chris, you smirk and nudge Laura, “I have a date after this.”

“About damn time.”

“You’ve said that already.” You laugh, looking around. You clap and cheer, glancing up at the scoreboard to see the Celtics leading, “Hey, we’re winning.”

“I’ve known that.” She laughs, “I’m not in world Y/n Sturniolo.” She looks at you, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t rush things.” You look away, tilting your head as you think about it, “It does though, doesn’t it.” You laugh, looking back at her.

You look down, tapping on the text, If you want you can meet me over here when the game is over, that way we’re not swimming through the crowd up there trying to find each other.

Laura and I drove separate, so that works out perfect, and hey. Celtics are winning!!

“I guess it’s a good thing we drove separate.” Laura laughs and you show her your phone, “I literally just said that to Chris.”

She laughs, “Oh my god.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “We are one.”

“Kinda scary.” She looks at you and you both break out into laughter, quickly switching to cheering and clapping when the Celtics score more points.

You could really get into this basketball scene.

You get another text from Chris, that’s because you’re just a lucky charm🍀

You smile, We’ll see if that’s the case on our second and third date. You set your phone down, turning towards Laura, “Is this actually happening?”

She nods with a smile, “It is. Do you want me to pinch you?”

“No, no.” You stop her as she reaches over and you laugh, “I believe you.”

Chris texts back, I’m ready for this game to end now haha, you glance up at the scoreboard, texting back, Just a little bit longer, I think you’ll make it.

You see the texts bubbles pop up, I don’t know, I have a date with this really pretty girl and to me that’s more exciting than this basketball game.

You feel your cheeks heating up and you quietly inhale as you type, Aww, you can be nice.

Yeah I thought the same thing about you.. kidding kidding.

You laugh, shaking your head and you jump slightly as the buzzer goes off. The fans uproar with excitement as the Celtics win and you stand up, cheering, clapping and jumping around with Laura.

You bring your phone up, Guess what? Games over.

You tuck your phone into your pocket and look at Laura, “Do you want to walk over with me and then we can all walk out together?”

She nods, “Yeah, that’ll probably be best.”

You make your way around the court, weaving in and out of people while you look for Chris through the crowd. You spot him, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lead Laura with you.

You give him a smile as you walk up to him, “Hey.” You look at Nate then Matt, giving them a smile, “Hey, guys.”

Chris immediately takes your hand into his and interlocks your fingers, “Ready?”

You give his hand a squeeze and you nod, “Ready.”

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

Thank you so much for reading, I know absolutely nothing about basketball, so sorry if nothing makes sense, but I tried to just keep it focused on texting Chris. I hope you enjoyed! I love you and I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[holdinggrudges]

what's my flavor?

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball.

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store. 

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine. 

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it. 

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy. 

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance. 

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score. 

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where. 

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?” 

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.” 

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.” 

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?” 

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over. 

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.” 

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.” 

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’ 

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’ 

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow. 

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you. 

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless. 

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month. 

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant. 

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.” 

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.” 

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.” 

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious. 

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library. 

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.” 

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.” 

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time. 

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too. 

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up.  He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?” 

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense. 

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly. 

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.” 

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.” 

“I’ll text you,” he agrees. 

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life. 

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags. 

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut. 

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before. 

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response. 

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway. 

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing. 

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’ 

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too. 

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised. 

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car. 

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers. 

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is. 

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’ 

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage. 

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door. 

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?” 

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?” 

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?” 

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?” 

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out. 

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.” 

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further. 

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that. 

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?” 

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help. 

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.” 

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?” 

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?” 

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before. 

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again. 

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?” 

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.” 

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?” 

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.” 

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?” 

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.” 

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.” 

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.” 

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?” 

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.” 

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.” 

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door. 

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit. 

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?” 

  You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general. 

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight. 

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately. 

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him. 

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.” 

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.” 

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw. 

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.” 

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.” 

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that. 

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.” 

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.” 

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.” 

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.” 

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss. 

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing. 

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.” 

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.” 

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that. 

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are. 

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.” 

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry. 

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. !You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.  

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up. 

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips. 

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.” 

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you. 

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.” 

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?” 

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.” 

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?” 

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.” 

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t. 

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond. 

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed. 

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. 

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.” 

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought. 

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now. 

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his. 

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease. 

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there. 

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that. 

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?” 

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated. 

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down. 

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.” 

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. 

 “Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again. 

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?” 

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.” 

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go. 

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.” 

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.” 

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory. 

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.” 

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm. 

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?” 

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already. 

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?” 

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…” 

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said. 

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?” 

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”  

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

[meo-eiru]

Hello!

Do you have any tips on making art for games?

I've tried my hand in making VNs before and i want to try again but i always get overwhelmed when it's time to make the sprites, backgrounds, and other artwork :(

Mostly because the sheer amount of art needed is intimidating.

The best way to overcome that overwhelming feeling is so start out small.

Remember that you are not a big company, work based on the workload you can handle. For a first vn usually focusing on 2-3 characters at most is more ideal, you don't have to make your job harder.

For the backgrounds there's an app called FotoSketcher (not sure if it's available on mobile), it basically places a filter over your art and makes it look painting like, and you can choose from various different styles. It's free and has nothing to do with AI so you can use it without worry.

While I drew the backgrounds in the cg, since we were running short on time FotoSketcher did help me a lot with the in game backgrounds. Though you might need to draw over some stuff to make them blend in better.

For the sprites, or well the character designs, don't go too overboard with details. More details doesn't mean better character design, in fact it can usually feel hard on the eyes. Try to keep it simple.

Be aware of your character's charm points and focus on those.

For the expressions, you don't have to draw each expression one by one. Something that really fastened the process for me was drawing different eyes, mouths and eyebrows, then combining those like puzzle pieces to form the expressions.

For example these two Starling expressions have the same eyes and eyebrow combination but I used different mouths.

And for the cgs, again keep your workload to a minimum. You don't have to illustrate every fun scene, remember that the players can imagine those themselves too. Focus on the scenes you think should absolutely get illustrated to support the story better. If after finishing those you still have time you can always add in more, but what is important is to make a presentable game, not going above and beyond with every single small detail.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Two hearts for one

Azriel X OC

Word count: +9100

Summary: Longing for what everyone around him seems to have, Azriel wanders the night streets of Velaris until a young female bumps into him and changes his life

Warnings: none I think, but let me know if you find something that should be mentioned

@azrielappreciationweek Day 3: Belonging Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Night slowly spread its dark cloak over the city, stars sadly shone in the autumn sky. Lights came to live as most of the shops closed and people were hurrying to get home to their loved ones, tugging their coats closer to protect themselves from biting cold of evening breeze.

As every Friday, Inner Circle had a family dinner followed by a game night. After eating delicious meal, everyone moved to the sitting room, merry cacophony of voices and laughter filled the room. Azriel took his usual place in the alcove near the entrance, half hidden in the shadows, soft small smile on his face.

He loved his family. Watching their smiling faces made him feel at peace and very lonely at the same time. He knew he belonged here, that they all loved him and cared for him, yet something was always missing.

Even now.

He watched Mor gently tuck strand of hair behind Emerie's ear, gleam of affection in her eyes.

Elain sat pressed into Lucien's side, hands hugging her growing belly while he had his arm around her shoulders, keeping her warm undoubtedly. His other hand was caressing her belly and the babe who was already responding to their touches, soft smiles on their faces as they whispered the words of love.

Cassian was vividly discussing his ideas for new training for Valkyries with his mate who sipped wine from the glass, pretending to be bored, but Azriel knew she was listening carefully, committing each word to memory.

Amren was seated on floor in front of the fireplace with crackling fire, small flames slowly licking the logs. Varian sat next to her, leaning closer while he whispered something to her. His eyes never left her face, the enormous amount love, devotion and admiration palpable.

And then there was his brother and High Lord, Rhys. He brought a warm blanket to wrap it around his mate and almost sleeping baby boy in her arms. Nyx babbled sleepily as his father gently placed kiss on his forehead. Rhys chuckled in answer and sat down, pulling Feyre closer to kiss her too. She rested head on his shoulder and together they watched their child, eyes shining with joy.

This room was a perfect picture of warmth, peace and love. Azriel knew that he was part of it, that this was his family he belonged to, yet he felt like uninvited intruder spying on them through thick glass. He was really trying to be happy for them, but more he watched them, more his heart hurt.

Why? Why they liked him? Why was he here? Why he felt so lonely? Why there wasn't anyone who would love him? All he longed for was a person, a single person who would love him dearly. A person he could give his whole heart to, unveil his darkest thoughts without being judged. Was it so impossible for him to be loved and accepted?

His fingers in the pockets twitched, searching for someone to touch and hold onto. Suddenly the air thickened and he felt like he was choking on it. He couldn't take it anymore.

Looking up at the picture of happiness laid in front of him, he made a step to the doors. When nobody noticed it, he made another one. On the threshold he looked back one more time, his heart squeezed in pain. Taking the scarf from hanger he wrapped it around his neck and quietly left.

White clouds rose from his mouth as he walked down the street, hands tucked in pockets. It was quite cold, but he didn't mind it. The place he grew up at, used to be much colder than this city, yet he had never owned a coat. Of course, he could dash to the night sky and be back in his room in no time, but he needed time to think. Maybe if he tired himself, he would immediately fall asleep instead of drowning in loneliness until the dawn. Letting his legs carry him wherever they wanted, he got lost in his thoughts.

The city was silent, most of its residents already retired to the welcoming warmth of their beds - beds they shared with someone dear. Azriel had no idea where he was, not that he cared anyway. More he thought about his situation, more lonely and hurt he felt. His chest felt heavy, every breath was getting harder. Before he could stop it, a quiet sob escaped between his lips, tears stinging his eyes. Tugging the shadows even closer, he looked like a ghost, a dark cloud wandering through empty streets of the sleeping city.

He was about turn the corner when someone came running from the opposite direction and bumped into him. He didn't expect it and the impact made him take a few steps back. The other person yelped and fell down. Quickly, he wiped his eyes and looked at the person.

It was a young female. Dressed in warm looking long coat, she was gaping at him, pale and visibly scared. He immediately dropped on his knees and started to collect things that spilled out from her handbag when she fell down.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice husky. "I didn't pay attention to my surrounding.. Are you okay?"

She just nodded and looked somewhere into the dark behind her, her eyes wide with fear. He followed her gaze and noticed two males lurking in the darkness, waiting. He didn't need more to understand the situation.

He immediately stood up again. Baring his teeth, he spread his wings wide behind him. The blood was boiling in his veins. He didn't even want to imagine what could have happened, if she didn't bump into him. His hand instinctively reached for a dagger he hadn't on him right now. He took step toward those cowards and then reminded himself that the female was still there on the ground. Meanwhile, males pivoted and disappeared in the alley.

Azriel turned back to the female and offered her hand. She gaped at him with the same amount of fear, heaving. Just then he realized that he didn't have gloves, his scars on full display. He hesitated.

"I'm not going to hurt you.." He handed her the handbag that he still clutched in his other hand. She took it from him, shivering like a leaf in cold wind. "Do you.. do you think you can stand up? Aren't you injured?"

"I- I think I'm fine," she finally accepted his hand and he pulled her up. Her voice was shaky, but so gentle and sweet that it pushed tears back into his eyes. As the dim light of street lamp banished shadows from his face, she curiously eyed him. "Are you okay?"

He just chuckled humourlessly. "I'm perfectly fine.." he cleared his throat, looking down at tips of his shoes. "If you don't mind, I'd escort you home. Just in case those two change their mind. It's way too late for females to be outside on their own."

"That's kind of you," she smiled shyly.

They started to walk down the street Azriel came from. Azriel let the female lead the way and walked beside her in silence. Curiosity took better of him and he peeked at her out of the corner of eye.

She was quite beautiful. It wasn't the eyes-striking kind of beauty, but something more softer and subtle that was hard to explain. Her face was ordinary, almost plain without makeup, yet nice as faces of all young females. Big round eyes of colour of summer sky, small nose, full plush-looking lips, cheeks red from the cold wind. Her waist long hair seemed to be dark in dim light of streets. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he felt better in her presence.

She led him to the one of the nice but cheap neighbourhoods. Small houses with even smaller gardens stood one next to each other, the street was clean and somehow cozy though. And dark. At this hour there wasn't a single lit window. People in this part of the city had to work hard to feed their families and pay bills, so naturally they were tired and already asleep. Azriel had hardly ever passed place like this, but he could imagine children laughing and playing on the street during the day while mothers did laundry talking with each other. Maybe they weren't rich, but they definitely had something much better. Something he'd love to have too.

Female stopped in front of the smallest house on the street and nervously brushed her hair back. His eyes roamed over the well maintained house with white curtains before they looked down at her. She craned her neck with determination in her eyes, hardly reaching to his chest.

"I'm so sorry for running into you before.. and also for making you walk all the way to the outskirts of the city. I guess that you had much better plan for tonight.."

"No, don't apologize, please. I was just aimlessly wandering around, so.. I'm glad I could be to your service."

She nervously played with her handbag. "I'd like to thank you for.. you know.." With worry she looked at a certain window of her home. "If it wasn't for you, I might not return home. So.. I want to thank you properly. If you don't mind, I'd like to invite you to dinner."

Azriel's wings rustled and he gaped at her, astonished. "That isn't necessary. I didn't do it to get something back from you."

"Please," she insisted. "I don't have enough to thank you in any other way, but.. I'd be happy if you could come for dinner tomorrow." Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. "It won't be anything amazing nor big, but.. Please. What you did for me tonight, to me it means more than you can imagine."

Azriel hesitantly nodded. "I'll come." He nervously shifted his weight, pulling his scarf a bit higher. "Can I know your name?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry.. I'm Ivy."

"Ivy," he repeated to himself. "I'm Azriel."

"Nice to meet you, Azriel." Her bright smile was so genuine that the corners of his lips lifted into a smile of his own.

"Nice to meet you too," he murmured into the night. "You should go in. I'll wait until you lock the door and then I'll check surroundings. You don't need to worry tonight."

She thanked him again and left him alone on the road. However, before closing the door, her eyes searched for him one more time and she waved him goodbye. Gentle breeze brought her silent 'good night' to his ears. He waited for few minutes until he saw dim light in one of the windows and then he dashed to the sky. He made several rounds above the whole neighbourhood and only when he was sure that there was no danger, he headed to the House of Wind.

He felt strangely weightless as he went through his night routine, all the previous sadness and loneliness long forgotten. Before sleep snatched him away he repeated her name several times. He liked the way the word rolled off the tongue. So light, refreshing and soft as her. The shadows he left behind, returned and whispered to his ear. They assured him that she safely got to the bed, omitting any details. Repeating her name like a prayer one more time, he nestled in his bed and tired, instantly fell asleep.

Azriel smoothly landed on the road in front of the smallest house on the street. Even though it was just last night that he stood on the same spot, it felt like long time ago.

Despite the fact that he went to the bed so late, he woke up at sunrise, nervous and excited at the same time. Training with Cassian helped him to get rid of some excessive energy, but it still wasn't enough. He couldn't focus on work, so he spent most of the day outside, window shopping.

He didn't want to show up empty handed to the dinner Ivy invited him to. He knew little to nothing about her, so it was hard to decide what to bring. At first, he considered buying some good wine, but it could easily turn into embarrassing situation if she was abstinent. Then he spent some time eyeing flowers. He gave up the idea, too, because giving flowers to female felt too intimate for the basically first meeting. After all, she invited him to thank him, not to date him.

He wandered all around the market place, dismissing one idea after another until he found a small shop with vegetable. That's where it hit him and no matter how he approached the idea, it seemed to be the safest option. Basket of fruit as a gift was polite enough, it didn't give the vibes of any expectations and everyone liked the fruit. He picked up the most deliciously looking fruit, then he found a lovely basket. After purchasing everything he could possibly need, he returned to his room and spent several hours rearranging his creation.

Azriel sighed heavily. He was more nervous than before a real date. He held out the basket that he carried so carefully, and straightened the ribbon. Everything seemed to be on its place. He ran hand through his dark hair that got messy during the flight, brushing them back.

Suddenly he noticed the tense silence. He could swear that he saw children playing outside as he flew above the roofs, but the street was empty now. They had to hide away when he landed. He could only imagine what they thought about him. Feeling unsure of what to do, he approached the door and knocked.

The sounds of cutting were replaced by fast steps and the door flew open. Surprised Ivy stood on threshold, pink apron with frills hanging on her hips.

"Oh, hi.." She looked back into the room and sighed in relief. "For a second I thought I lost the track of time," she smiled.

Azriel looked behind her at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. It was hardly four. Cold sweat washed over him. He was so excited that he came way too soon. "I apologize. I didn't mean to-.. I can wait outside-.."

"Nonsense! It's okay," she moved to the side. "Come in."

He had mixed feelings as he stepped in and looked around. The house seemed to be even smaller than from outside, he hardly fit in. He was standing in a narrow corridor with a hanger and a shoes rack, his broad shoulders almost taking all the space between the walls, tips of wing touching ceiling. The door on the right led to a tiny kitchen squeezed together with a dinning room. Another door led to a sitting room and then there was a staircase to the second floor. Used to the airy and large rooms he felt strange in the house where he needed only to reach up to touch the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," Ivy noticed his discomfort. "You are probably used to something better.."

"Don't apologize," he smiled, "I like it. It's cozy."

Then he remembered the gift he brought. The heart hammered in his chest as he took it out from behind his back.

"I wasn't sure what you like, so.."

Ivy clasped hands to her cheeks. "Aww, you shouldn't have worried. I invited you to thank you."

"I know. I just wanted to bring you something to thank you for having me today."

"Mommy? Who's that?" A small, tiny voice came somewhere from the sitting room.

Azriel froze on the spot. It didn't even occur to him that Ivy could actually be married and have family. Now he felt really bad for intruding her home.

Ivy looked up at him apologetic. "It's a friend I told you about, honey. Come out to greet him properly."

A golden-brown head peeked from behind the door frame, followed by big, bright eyes of the same colour as her mum's.

"This is my daughter, Adelina. Lina, this is Azriel, friend who helped mommy last night."

Little girl timidly took a step to the corridor.

"Hello," she spoke in small voice and ran back to the room.

"I'm so sorry. She isn't used to the strangers. We don't have guests here often."

Azriel shook his head, still too stunned.

"No, it's fine. I mean.." He cleared his throat, rubbing on the nape of his neck. "Where is her father?"

Ivy inhaled sharply, her voice low. "That male ran away as soon as he learned I'm pregnant."

Dread washed over him. "I-I'm sorry I-.." He wasn't sure what to say anymore. He was making one mistake after another. That's not like him.

Ivy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to get over the feeling that the memory brought up. "You couldn't know. It's just.. so hard," she said whispering. "That male.. he was one big red flag, but I was too in love and naive to see it before it was late. I'm not sorry though. Having Lina is the best thing that happened to me in my entire life. No matter how hard it is, I'm happy to have her."

She looked up at him, smiling kindly with tears shining in her eyes. "Thank you so much for yesterday. I don't want to even imagine what would happen with her, if I wouldn't make it home. You saved both of us." She gently took his hand and squeezed it as she spoke, not minding his scars at all.

Azriel emptied his lungs with relief. He wasn't sure why he was holding his breath whole the time. "I'm glad I could help you," he murmured, heat settling in his cheeks.

"I-I think I should go finish the dinner if we want to eat on time," Ivy looked over to the kitchen and the spread out ingredients and pots, tucking a strand of long hair behind ear. She seemed to be just as flustered as Azriel. "Do you want to sit down in the sitting room? Lina is shy and quite quiet kid, she won't bother you. You can take rest there until meal is ready."

He just nodded, handing her basket of fruit and headed to the mentioned room. He had to duck to pass through the door, lowering his wings as much as he could. Sighing he straightened up and took a look around. The room was small but clean and bright with a smaller sofa, bookcase, few shelves and some flowers. Through the window with lace curtain he saw backyards between the houses.

One corner of the room was dedicated to a few toys nicely lined up on shelf and in doll house made out of box. When he compared it to the amount of toys little Nyx already owned, he felt sorry he didn't know about the girl before. At that moment he decided that next time he would bring her some nice doll to play with. However, then he awkwardly remembered that there might be no next time and he felt sad.

Small noise in the corner behind the sofa drew his attention. Ever curious shadows peeked there and returned to whisper in his ear. He didn't need them to know that Adelina was hidden there. There wasn't better place to hide at for child of her size anyway. He rubbed nape of his neck, troubled. Little girl was apparently scared of him. No wonder - he was huge, winged male she had never seen before. His appearance was intimidating even for adults at times.

Sending his shadows behind his back, he lowered to his knees. He knew that he didn't need to do this, yet he wanted to get to know little girl.

"Hey, there," he peeked behind the sofa. He imagined he was speaking to Nyx to get over the nervousness. With little babe whom he saw born, his soft side came out naturally. The corners of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile, but girl just watched him with wide eyes, shy and scared.

"I'm Azriel. You are Adelina, right?" She just nodded once. "Nice to meet you, Adelina. Thank you for having me for the dinner today." He was just rambling, not sure what to say. "I brought some fruit. Do you like fruit?" She again only nodded, crushing dirty rag doll in her small hands.

"I'm so glad to hear that," he smiled. "Is that your doll?" Another nod. "She's so lovely. What is her name?"

Confused, little girl looked down at doll and then back up at him. "She doesn't have one," her tiny voice was hardly audible.

"It's pity. You should give her some, otherwise she will be sad."

Little girl thought about it for a while. "Feyre," she said after few minutes of silence.

Azriel blinked in surprise. "That's nice name and it suits her very much. Tell me, where did you hear such name?"

"It's name of my teacher in the painting club. She is very kind and beautiful. Do you know that she is also our High Lady?"

"Oh, I do," Azriel laughed. "She will be very pleased to hear that you like her when I return home."

Adelina gaped at him on awe, her wide open blue eyes shining. "You know her?"

"Yes, she is wife of my brother. We are good friends."

Girl came out from her hiding place and stepped closer. "Really?"

"Really," Azriel seriously nodded.

"So you live with her?"

"Sometimes. I'm mostly staying in my room in the House of Wind, but sometimes I stay overnight at her house."

Girl moved even closer, shyly peeking behind him.

"Are they real?" Her small finger pointed to his wings.

Azriel stretched them out as much as he could without knocking off something and waved with them slightly.

"What do you think?" he winked at her. Girl chuckled in answer.

"And what's that?" One tendril of shadows crawled around his feet, reaching out to her.

"Oh, that's just shadow. You don't need to be scared. It won't hurt you, it's just curious," he smiled shyly, tugging the shadow back behind his back, but it ignored him and peeked out again.

"Is it your friend?"

"It's with me since I was as little as you, taking care of me."

"So it's like Lana," girl rejoiced, poking the shadow with finger. The shadow swirled around her hand flying up to her face. It poked her into chubby cheek and Adelina started to laugh. The rest followed the suit and soon she was surrounded by curious shadows that swirled around her, caressing and tickling her.

Azriel watched it fondly. It took just a few minutes and this little girl had him already wrapped around tiny finger. She was so gorgeous that he wished he could have daughter like her someday. "Who is Lana?"

"She's mommy's friend. Sometimes she stays with me when mommy has to work," girl answered giggling and started to chase shadows around the room.

Azriel sat down on the floor with his back against the sofa and pulled knees to his chest to leave enough space for their game, laughing with them. That's how Ivy found them.

"Dinner is ready," she called into the room, stopping once she saw them having good time. Giggling Adelina ran to her mum, squeezed her legs and then ran to the kitchen.

Azriel stood up, pulling wings to his back. "I apologise. We are probably too loud."

"No, not at all. I've never seen her so happy. It takes her quite long to open up to someone new. You must be really good with children."

"Not really," he shoved hands into the pockets, trying to stop the blush spreading on his face, "but I have a little nephew."

"Come," she smiled shyly. "Everything is ready."

Azriel managed to get through door and squeezed in to the small dinning table that was nicely set and full of deliciously looking meals. The pleasant conversation in trio over the meal gave Azriel peace he hadn't felt for ages. When meal was over, he helped to clean up and even stayed until the night fell.

As time to return home was getting closer, he started to feel sadness weighting his chest as a heavy stone. He wished he could freeze the time and just stay in this tiny house, surrounded by these two girls. But he couldn't. They weren't his family and he had to leave at some point.

No one was forcing him to go, yet at nine he assumed it was time to bid them good night and let them rest. He made several rounds above the street and flew home only once all the lights in their windows turned off. That night he felt even more lonely than ever, dreaming about family he didn't have. Seconds before he finally fell asleep, the empty faces of his wife and child mixed with faces of Ivy and Adelina, their merry voices following him to the realm of dreams.

Several days after the dinner he still thought about those two girls living alone in small house on the outskirts of the city. They didn't make any promise of meeting again, yet he wanted to see them. He wasn't sure what led him to such urge. Maybe it was the warmth he felt in their presence. Or maybe it was the happy face of little girl playing with his shadows. It got to the point when he went to the market to buy some fruit and pastries, stopping at toy shop along the way to choose a lovely doll.

Before he could change his mind, he landed in front of the small house with bags in hands and knocked on the door. The house was completely silent. Out of the corner of the eye he noticed that curtain of the window next to door moved slightly. He took a step back, searching the window. The door opened in less than second, smiling Adelina standing on threshold.

"Azriel, you came," she jumped in the place.

"I missed you," he smiled, relieved to see that she was well. "Is your mommy home?"

Girl just shook her head. "Mommy is at work."

Azriel peeked into the house behind her, concerned. "Is anyone with you? Looking after you?"

"No, I'm alone. Lana couldn't stay today."

Azriel dreaded to hear that answer. Squaring his shoulders, he ushered little girl back inside. Velaris was considerably safe city, but it wasn't completely without crimes. "So return inside, angel. If you want, I can stay with you until mommy returns."

Adelina smiled happily and taking his hand she led him in. Azriel closed the door behind him, locking it and headed to the kitchen. Little girl eyed with interest the bags he brought. Azriel gave her a smile and handed her one of them.

"This one is for you. Open it."

Bags and papers rustled while he took out fruit and pastries and put them on counter where he notice a slice of dry bread on a plate. "Angel, what is this?"

"Lana brought me a dinner when she came to tell me that she can't stay," girl frowned as she was trying to get through the paper on her gift.

Azriel wrinkled his nose and opened the fridge. "How about I make you a proper dinner?" There was so little in the fridge, just some basics.

Girl behind him squealed with joy as she finally opened the box and found her new doll. "Is this for me? Really?"

"It's all yours," he turned to her in time to see that adorable face of hers. She was beaming. For four years old she was too mature most of the time and very cleaver girl. Another child that had to skip a childhood phase because of the hardship of life. Azriel felt sorry for her. Getting new toy, she once again behaved like a child of her age, jumping and running around, admiring new doll and clinging to Azriel's leg. He even earned a sweet kiss on cheek. He let her joy settle before he again drew her attention to him.

"Now tell me, sweet girl, what would you like to eat? I can prepare almost everything, I swear," Azriel held her tiny elbows, gently rubbing her arms with thumbs.

Lina pressed finger to her lips, thinking. "I'd like pasta."

"What pasta?"

"Just pasta," she shrugged.

"And what about a sauce?" Girl gave him questioning look. "Okay, so different way.. Do you like tomato, chicken and spinach?"

Adelina nodded hesitantly. "I think I do."

"Fine, so let's go to the market to buy ingredients. Would you go with me?"

"But mommy told me that I have to stay in and wait until she returns.."

"It's okay, I will explain it to her. We will just buy ingredients we need and immediately return home. It won't take too long. We can fly if you want."

"Yay! Yes, please," girl squealed in excitement. "And will we make pasta for mommy, too?"

"Of course, we will."

The shopping experience went even smoother than Azriel imagined. Little Adelina held his hand whole the time or held on to his pants when he needed both hands. She was curiously looking around and as a child had a lot of questions, but she didn't as much as took a step from him. During her first flight she seemed to be tense, but on way back she was more relaxed and even dared to look down on the streets of city below. When they landed at front door of her home, she looked up at him with pure adoration.

Azriel grinned with male's satisfaction and opened door for her.

"Ladies first."

Lina couldn't look happier than at that moment. She ran inside to play with her new doll while Azriel occupied the kitchen. With help of the shadows that peeked into each cabinet and drawer, he easily navigated in the small space. The simple meal was ready in no time. As a dessert, he prepared apple bunnies from the fruit he brought. Adelina called it the best meal in her life and even asked for one more portion.

Azriel's ego basked in so many praises he earned that evening. He prepared plate for Ivy and cleaned all the mess he made. Then he walked over to the sitting room and played with Adelina until it was time for her to go to the bed. He hoped that Ivy would return by the time, but Adelina told him that she usually had to stay and work until late night. Little girl on her own took shower without any protest and went to bed together with her new doll. She was fast asleep before Azriel tucked the blanket around her.

He was crawling down the narrow space of the stairs when front door opened, Ivy stood frozen with hand on handle. They gaped at each other in a shock for a while.

Ivy came to her senses as the first. "Hey.. What are you doing here?" she asked stunned. She didn't seemed to be angry at slightest, only surprised.

Azriel rubbed on the nape of his neck, awkwardly stepping into the corridor. "I'm sorry for intruding your home again and without invitation. I-I.. I brought some fruit and pastries for you and Adelina this afternoon and found her home alone, so I decided to look after her until you return."

"Oh," Ivy recoiled. "So Lana couldn't today, too. I'm so sorry for bothering you. You certainly had something more important to do-"

She started to apologize, but Azriel cut her off. "It's fine. I gladly stayed with her. She's very good kid and we had a lot of fun.. By the way, I hope you won't be angry, but I took her to the market and.. we flew. I swear I was flying slowly and not too high. She was safe whole the time."

Ivy chuckled. "I believe you. Thank you so much."

Azriel noticed big bag with groceries in her hand. "Let me help you. You must be tired. I have used your kitchen and prepared something to eat. We left a portion for you too, if you'd like."

"It's so kind of you. I don't know how to repay you for that." She looked really tired, hardly standing on her feet, so Azriel navigated her to the table and served her the meal he made.

"You don't have to. Take it as a repay for the delicious meal you prepared the last time."

She smiled sadly and picked up one of the apple bunnies. "This is cute."

While she ate, Azriel summarized events of whole afternoon for her. She didn't say much, just smiled sadly. Azriel was cleaning the plates when his shadows tapped on his shoulder. He stopped the water as quiet sobs reached his ears. He swiftly wiped his hands and returned to Ivy. She sat there with face in her hands, crying.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Azriel.. I just met you and you already did so much for us.. I don't know how to repay you for your kindness.." she sobbed, her shoulders trembling.

"As I said before, you don't have to," he assured her, rubbing on her back. "I'd gladly help you more, if you don't mind. Anytime, you have to leave Adelina alone, I can look after her. It's no problem for me. Really."

Before he left that night, they came to a silent agreement. It was quite challenge to persuade Ivy to not feel bad for it, but he was glad he did. He felt at peace to be able to check on them from time to time.

What had started just as a visit once or twice a week, soon turned into every second day and before the Solstice came, Azriel began to visit them daily. He couldn't go a day without them, not only helping to look after Adelina, but also taking them out, doing small repairs at house or just staying with them in, enjoying a peaceful moments. More time he spent with those two lovely girls, more he liked them and soon enough he wished they were his. He fell in love with both of them and his feelings grew with every minute in their presence. However, Ivy seemed to see him only as a friend, so he kept quiet about his feelings, not wanting to break the fragile relationship they built together.

The day before the Solstice he surprised them by decorating their house while they slept. He even brought in a tree that took a good quarter of their sitting room. He tried to convince himself that the joy and tears in their eyes when they saw it, were enough, that it was all he needed to be completely happy. His heart hurt at the thought that this was all he could steal for himself. No matter how he tried, it never could be enough.

As every year, he was invited to the River House to spent holidays with his family. He wanted to celebrate with them as usual, but on the other hand, he wanted to spend the holidays with Ivy and Adelina, too. He even bought them presents a month in advance - that's how much he was looking forward the holidays in their small house. He felt torn. He considered the idea to invite the two of them to the River House, so they could be together. There was only one problem - he didn't want his family to find out about them yet. They were his most guarded and the most treasured secret that he wanted to keep for only himself just a bit longer. But he couldn't decline invitation from his family either without telling them truth.

And so he ended up at the full table of decorated River House. All couples and families sat together, laughing and having a great time, while he felt left out. Of course they were talking with him, asking about his whereabouts in last couple of months, yet he didn't really felt like a part of this chaos. He was missing something. He missed his girls, Ivy and Adelina.

Whole the time he thought only about them - what they were doing, how they were celebrating, what meals Ivy prepared for the dinner. He wished the family dinner and presents exchange was already over, so he could run to give them his presents and to spend with them at least hour or two before it would be time to go to the bed.

The only thing that kept him sitting and smiling at everyone was wine. After the first bottle that he managed to drink while the appetizer was served, he stopped counting. When his family stood up as one man to move to the tree and presents, his cheeks were already burning, his vision was blurry. Cassian noticed his drunken state and chuckling he came to help him.

"What's going on? You usually don't drink so much," he was picking on him.

"You wouldn't understand that," Azriel hiccuped.

"Maybe if you explained it to me, I would understand. Have you found some nice female you are keeping secret from us? Hm?"

Azriel stopped and narrowed eyes on him. He tried to guess him, but then gave up and waved his hand over him. Cassian didn't know anything, he was just trying his luck.

"As mysterious as usual, brother," Cassian laughed and helped him to sit into the armchair by the fire.

The following events merged together. Azriel only registered a few thanks when his family opened his gifts and someone pushed in small box into his hands. The fire crackled in the hearth, sending waves of soothing warmth into the room, all the voices created a pleasant cacophony in his ears.

Azriel's eyelids grew unbearably heavy until he couldn't take it anymore and he needed to close his eyes for a moment. Next time he opened them, clocks in the house were striking eleven. Everyone already went to the bed, the house was silent.

Azriel was still quite drunken as he scrambled to his feet, the pain throbbed in his temples. He didn't mean to fall asleep, he still had presents for the girls to deliver. He stumbled to the front doors, knocking off some vase with flowers on his way. The shadows were trying to tell him something, but he just waved them away, tired.

The cold air bit his face as he dashed to the sky, dangerously swaying from side to side in the air. It was a miracle that he managed to get to Ivy's house without any serious accident. Stumbling to the front door he needed three tries to actually get to them and knock. All the windows were already dark, inside was completely silent. Unhappy that he didn't make it in time, Azriel collapsed on the threshold with shoulder pressed against the cold wood. A puff of steam left his mouth as he sobbed. The most important time of the year and he missed it out.

Suddenly the door opened and he almost fell inside. Ivy stood there in a nightgown, her scared expression replaced by relieve when she saw him.

"You scared me. I heard knock and then some strange sounds and-" she noticed his state as he struggled to get on his feet, traces of tears half frozen on his face. "Oh, Mother! Azriel, are you okay?" She hurried to help him, steadying his swaying form.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "I wanted to be here for Solstice. I have even presents." He reached into a pocket between the worlds to take them out while slurring in between hiccups.

Ivy helped him get to the sitting room and sit on the sofa. She gently took wrapped boxes from him and placed them under the tree.

"You are freezing cold. I'll make you tea." She caressed him, making sure he would be fine while she would make him cup of tea to warm him up.

Azriel's heavy hand landed on her arm, his long fingers locked around her wrist, pulling her closer. With half-lidded, glossy eyes he looked up at her, dreamy smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"You are so beautiful and kind and perfect," he slurred in a deep voice, every second word followed by hiccups. "And I love you so much.. Really love you.. Both of you.. You are my everything.. I don't want to live without you two.."

Ivy blinked in surprise, her bottom lip trembling as her blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Azriel," she caressed his cold cheek, blushing. "I feel the same way for some time now. I didn't even dare to dream that someone like you could-.. But I-..I love you, too.."

Her voice was so quiet that he wasn't sure he really heard it. He convinced himself that it was just some drunken hallucination and sobbed. "I don't want to destroy our relationship.. I need you.."

"You aren't destroying anything. Quite otherwise."

"I love you," she said more clearly when he gave her a questioning look. In his current state he was kind of cute and definitely more opened than usual.

The sweetest smile spread on his face as her words reached him and he pulled her even closer. His body warmed up within seconds, the usual heat radiating from him. Heart in his chest picked up on speed.

"Angel," he murmured, cupping her face. "I want to kiss you, but I'm too drunken."

"So maybe you could do so in the morning after sleeping it out. What do you think?" she chuckled shyly.

He nodded, scrambling to his feet. Swaying and trying to find balance, he headed to the front door. However, Ivy stopped him, pulling on the back of his sweater.

"I'd prefer you to stay here tonight. I can't possibly let you go out in this state. You could get hurt or freeze to death somewhere."

He looked down at her, blinking to focus and then drew hand down his face when it failed. "I-.. Fine.."

He let Ivy lead him up the stairs. He had a hard time to get to the second floor sober, so in drunken state it was even harder, but with great help of small female and his shadows he finally climbed the last step. Ivy ushered him to her bedroom where he collapsed face down on the bed as long as wide. She carefully tucked him in the blankets.

"I'll stay down on the sofa, so you get good rest, okay?"

He hummed, long sigh of relief leaving him, his eyes already closed. The soft sheets smelled like her, like a meadow of wild flowers and a summer sun, luring him into a deep slumber. He couldn't resist it.

"I'll get you a bigger bed," he murmured seconds before falling asleep.

Ivy smiled gently as she brushed dark strands from his face. "Good night."

She took one warm blanket, checked on her daughter who miraculously slept through all the fuss, and returned to the sitting room. Settling on the sofa she felt something cold swirl around her, gently touching her and tucking blanket around her. Azriel's shadows followed her to make sure she had as much comfort as possible.

"Thank you," she whispered into the dark and fell asleep with smile on lips.

At the dawn Ivy woke up, hearing small noise from the second floor. Sighing she rolled to the her side. Her gaze fell to the nicely wrapped boxes under the tree and she smiled. So after all it wasn't a dream. Azriel really came.

Whole house smelled of pine, small decorations shone in the first rays of winter sun. Now, when Azriel was there too, everything felt festive. Last evening, with Lina they waited for him. He didn't promise to come, yet they expected him to appear at least for few minutes. They both knew very well that he had family to spend this time of year with. Nevertheless, they hoped.

They waited with dinner and opening of presents until last moment, but when it was eight and there was no sign of him, Ivy put food on the plates and they ate alone. Adelina was sad whole the time. Not even new clothes for the Azriel's doll made her smile. Gazing at the gift they prepared for him, they waited until ten in silence. Then Ivy shoved the present into the drawer and they went to the bed. Ivy read a story to her daughter and when girl fell asleep, she retired to her bedroom, but for a world she couldn't fall asleep. She was tossing, worried that maybe something happened to him and he couldn't come.

How surprised she was when all scared she went to search for the source of strange noises and found drunken and crying Azriel curled up at her door. He didn't forget nor ignored them after all. And when he confessed.. Even in his drunken state it was the sweetest thing ever. She couldn't be more happier than at that moment.

Smiling, she got up and walked over to the bookcase. She took out the present for Azriel from the drawer and careful placed it under the tree next to the ones from him. It looked so tiny compared to his gifts that she felt ashamed. She sat there thinking about all kinds of things when the realisation hit her.

Adelina had a habit of climbing into her bed in the morning. Fearing what her daughter could feel finding Azriel sleeping in the bed instead of her mum in her half-asleep state, Ivy rushed up the stairs. The door of Lina's room were opened, the little girl nowhere to be found. Ivy swore under her breath and tiptoed to the door of her bedroom. She silently pushed them open and froze on the spot.

Azriel was lying on his side, softly snoring, curled around the small form of her daughter. The little girl was pressed against his chest with head rested on his biceps. His other arm and one wing were wrapped around her, keeping her warm and protecting her from the fall from bed. They both were fast asleep, smiling softly.

Ivy couldn't believe her eyes. It was the most adorable thing she had ever seen, her chest swelled with warmth and love. Wiping tears, she quietly backed from the room and closed the door. Changing from her nightgown, she set off to the bakery to buy freshly baked bread for the breakfast, dark tendrils of shadows at her heels. The little things followed her since the last evening and she couldn't help but smile at them.

Azriel woke up, his head throbbing. He reached to his temples, realizing where he was and that little Adelina slept next to him. The pain immediately forgotten, he smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The little girl sighed contentedly but her eyes remained closed.

He vaguely remembered how half-asleep she tugged on his arm to let her into the bed. When he made a space for her, she climbed up without a word and wrapping her small arms around his bigger one, she fell again asleep.

Carefully untangling from the blankets he got up and headed to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror. He looked as shitty as he felt. He shouldn't have drunk so much wine. Realising what he said in a drunken state, he headed down to look for Ivy. He didn't mean to take back any of the things he said because he meant them, but he needed to apologise for scaring her so late at the night and bothering her.

He squeezed down the narrow staircase at the same moment as front door opened.

"Good morning," Ivy greeted him merrily with steaming paper bag in hands. When she closed the door, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. She didn't seem to be angry at all. She gave him a shy smile and hurried to the kitchen. Azriel followed her, getting few pokes from his shadows that returned together with her. He had such hungover that he didn't even notice they were missing.

"I know," he whispered to them quietly.

"Good morning," he rasped, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

Ivy shivered at the sound, masking it by taking down her cloak and cap. "It's so cold outside," she shyly hurried out from the kitchen to hang them.

Azriel waited until she returned, thinking where to start.

"Ivy?" he said hesitantly. She turned to him, giving him all her attention. "I want to apologise for causing you troubles last night. I shouldn't have come in such state. I'm really sorry."

"No, it's fine," she smiled, uncertain.

Azriel was so nervous. His feelings were never accepted for some reason. It was hard to believe that in this case it could be any different, but he couldn't loose them. Looking down at his feet, he continued.

"Also.. I'd like to assure you that I remember everything I said and that I meant every single word. It wasn't just some drunken bullshit. I really.. love you and your daughter. I'm serious. Even if you don't feel the same way, I'd like to.. stay close to you both.. I won't bother you with my feelings anymore, just-.. Allow me to be your friend, please.."

"..silly.."

"Excuse me?" Azriel's gaze shot up.

Ivy stood in front of him, hiding smile in her palm while tears trailed down her cheeks. "If you remember everything you told me last night, then you have to also remember what I told you."

Azriel fished in his memory. He clearly remembered his words, however, everything else was blurred.

"To be honest, I'm not sure what of that was real and what was a dream," he admitted at last.

"Silly.. I told you that I love you. Don't you remember?"

Azriel's eyes widened. He thought that he imagined it all, that his drunken brain played tricks on him. He bridged the distance between them with one long step, sweeping her into his arms. Nuzzling to her hair, he inhaled deeply. Not even the smell of winter could cover her calming scent.

"I do.. I remember, but I thought that it was a dream," he murmured, squeezing her tightly. Her trembling hands fisted his sweater, holding him close.

They stayed like that for a while, then Azriel pulled away slightly. His hazel eyes searched hers. "Is the thing about the kiss true too?"

She nodded without hesitation and he didn't need more. Their lips hardly touched when light steps sounded on the stairs. They immediately jumped from each other and moved to the counter, pretending they were in the middle of preparing the breakfast. They both were fiercely blushing.

"Azriel!" Adelina squealed when she saw him. "You are here!"

She apparently didn't have any recollection of climbing to his bed earlier. Azriel smiled at her and picking her up, squeezed her in tight embrace.

"Good morning, sunshine. Of course I came. I'm sorry I didn't make it last night."

Little girl held him just as firmly. "I missed you."

"Okay, little lady," Ivy interrupted them, emotions swirling in her eyes. "Let's change and wash first. You can't eat like this."

Leading her to the door, Ivy turned and smiled sheepishly at Azriel, her cheeks still bright red. They almost got caught. Azriel could hardly believe this all. His heart hammered in his chest, all the emotions were overwhelming. He needed to busy his hands while his head was processing it all.

Before girls returned, he set the table, cut bread and prepared everything they could possibly need, not forgetting even hot cocoa. Adelina squealed happily as soon as she saw full table and ran to her seat. Azriel pulled out chair for Ivy, gently touching her as he squeezed in, too. They talked about plans for the day while eating when little girl surprised them both.

"Papa, could I get more cocoa?" She pleaded, her big blue eyes on Azriel.

His hand with bread froze on a halfway to his mouth, his breath hitched. His heart squeezed in the sweetest pain, stopping for a second, tears stinging his eyes.

"What..?" Even his voice was strangely hoarse.

Lina's eyes hesitantly skipped between two adults in front of her. "I'd like more cocoa," she repeated in small voice.

Azriel looked at Ivy, silently asking for permission and she nodded encouragingly. Wetting his dry lips, he cleared his throat.

"Sure, you can get more cocoa, but.. How did you call me?" He asked her softly, his voice slightly shaking.

He had to shove his hands under the table to hide the tremor, wiping the sweat into his pants. He hung his gaze on her small mouth, hoping she would repeat the word, dreading the impact it would have on his life. Because if she said it again, there would be no way back. He would selfishly claim this family as his own and he wouldn't let them go, cherishing them until he breathed out for the last time.

"Papa," she said in a small voice.

Azriel groaned, tears rolling down his cheeks. It was the most beautiful word he had ever heard in his long life. Clasping hands over his face he sobbed. His heart was about to explode with the happiness. After years of longing, he finally found family of his own. Finally he had someone to give his whole heart to, but instead of one, he got two hearts back. His shoulders trembled as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Did I say something bad?" Adelina turned to her mother who cried too.

"No, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You just made us very happy," she explained softly and took her mug to refill it.

Adelina slipped down from her chair and stepped to Azriel.

"Pain, pain, go away," she chanted, diligently rubbing his shoulder. He swept her into his arms and sitting her on his lap, he hugged her.

"Thank you, angel," he kissed the crown of her head and nuzzled to her doll-like long hair.

Ivy joined them shortly and put the mug on the table. Azriel pulled her down to his lap and kissed her. There was no better feeling than holding both of his girls, his most precious treasures, in his arms, safely wrapped by his wings. Now they were his to care for and to protect and he swore to Gods that he would make sure they had the best life he could offer them.

[dwaekkicidal]

thinking about cockwarming beomgyu while he's playing league with the boys,,,,

cw» fem!reader, rough sex, camera use + mic is on, he calls u dumb & a "stupid slut" hehe

you came over and quickly got tired of waiting for him to finish their game. and, in his defense, you didnt warn him prior! so he's not as willing to ditch his friends (just yet), so you'll have to live a little longer without his full attention </3

but... youre a princess >:( how dare he make you wait?!? so that wrinkly little brain of yours decides to take initiative.

you sneakily crawl into his lap and settle yourself on top of him <3 and you're so thankful for the lack of panties under your skirt that gives you easy access

and him? oh he's caught so off guard. he was completely immersed in his game so he barely saw you standing in the corner of his eye until you slung a leg over him. and its normal for you to sit in his lap while he games! so he doesnt really flinch

at least, not until you pull his loose shorts down just enough to slide his dick out <3 he finally realizes what you're doing when you lower yourself onto him, your walls all tight because you didn't prep yourself ><

his eyes actually roll into the back of his head at the unexpected, tight, warmth that your cunt offers & you get him killed because of it. and it just so happened that you did all this when he was in the middle of an important team fight that apparently would've won them the game, had he lived

which was unbeknownst to you at first, but it made very obvious from his next actions

he didn't really think much before he grabbed you by the back of the neck and shoved your face into the desk, conveniently putting you right beside his unmuted microphone

all his patience is gone at this point and youre held in place as he shoves himself back into you, spreading your cheeks apart so he can go even deeper. he tangles a hand in your hair while the other pins both of your wrists against the small of your back, then he goes to town

is brutal with his thrusts as he fucks you into his keyboard, causing a random mash of buttons to be pressed as he character finally respawns

but none of that is on his mind- or on his teammates minds either. they cant be bothered with the game anymore when youre all up in their ears moaning like a little whore <3 it had even gotten to the point where his members were begging him to turn his camera on so they could get a peak

"youre gonna let us hear but not see her?? c'mon man~"

"it takes like 2 seconds, just turn it on bro!!"

"y/nnie~ can you hear us? tell gyu to turn the cam on for us-" the pout evident in the voice

"shut the fuck up. she's in no position to give me orders."

despite the bite back he gives the people on the other side of discord, he lets go of your neck and reaches up to his camera. he puts it down on the desk just on the left corner, angling to so that they can see your entire upper body as well as part of his stomach

they whine and ask him to fix the angle a few times, but it falls upon deaf ears as his hips pick up their pace again. and hes just as brutal as before, hips slamming against yours and causing a wet slapping noise to get picked up on the mic

& the boys can't help but shove their hands down their pants as they watch you get fucked into oblivion. tears falling down your flushed cheeks and your legs shaking from how good he's giving it to you

and you cant deny how much you enjoy it~ not when you clench so tightly around him when his headphones are thrown off in favor of him putting the guys on his speakers, allowing you to hear the filthy comments theyre leaving for you

"fffuck- you look so pretty y/nnie~"

"is gyu fucking you good? yeah? he's tearing your little pussy up?"

"fuckkk your pretty tits look so good squished against the desk..."

"should let us watch you guys more often, gyu? you owe us for losing us that fight~"

the last comment makes him growl out and slam his hips against yours harder, his hand buried in your hair and forcing your face to the camera.

"blame this stupid little slut, not me! i didn't do shit."

& they cant even find it in them to complain about the echoing or the "Defeat" screen when your glossy eyes stare into the camera, almost begging them for more <3

considering this is my first txt post, If you're on my taglist and want to opt out of txt posts dm me! <3

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

[thefallennightmare]

Hey. Hi. How are ya?

Back on my Noah bullshit. Thanks to my friends in the chat for this unhinged idea. The whore on my shoulder also thanks all of you. Enjoy.

18+ CW BELOW THE CUT( thigh riding in Noah’s gaming chair while in front of the mirror, Noah spewing so much mean dirty talk it makes the devil blush, choking, spit play, someone watching on Noah's computer, and Long Haired Noah because let’s be real that needs its own warning.)

“Look at you. Such a fucking slut,” Noah’s dark eyes pierced up at me while he leaned farther back in his computer chair, giving me more space. 

I couldn’t speak, too far gone in bliss, as I rubbed my bare cunt up and down over Noah’s thigh. His long hair was cascading down his shoulder and those gold round glasses made his dark iris’ pop in color. His fingers sank deep into the flesh of my hips as he guided me along. 

“Noah,” I choked out, feeling the burn ignite low in my gut. 

His lips grazed over my collar bone, leaving harsh bites in the skin. “What’s the matter, angel? Riding my thigh made you stupid, huh? Like the little fucking whore you are.” 

I felt Noah spin us in his computer chair to face his mirror from a side view and with a harsh grip on my chin, he forced me to look at our reflection. 

“Open those pretty eyes for me and look at how fucking stupid you look. You should have seen yourself when you begged me to ride my thigh. So pathetic,” Noah grunted, wrapping his fingers around my throat. 

He squeezed, cutting off my oxygen, and my pace against his thigh became sloppy and rushed. I was so close that I could taste my orgasm on my tongue and I was deseprate to fucking devour it. 

I raked my nails over the tattoos on Noah’s chest, making him shiver underneath me. The chair creaked as the added weight nearly made it collapse and I silently prayed that it would wait until after I was finished before breaking. 

“Damn it,” I whined when I felt a burn between my pussy and the skin of Noah’s thigh. 

Even though I was wet between my folds, it wasn’t enough. Noah must have realized it so while keeping one hand around my throat, he pushed me back a bit with the other hand and spit directly onto his thigh. 

I let out a disgusting moan and began riding him again, rubbing my swollen and aching clit all over his thigh. The orgasm had crested and the dam was about to break. When he noticed I wasn't watching us in the mirror anymore, Noah snarled and forced my face towards our reflection. We looked sinful, bathed in the red glow of his LED lights and I caught sight of the webcam program up on his computer, directly on our actions. My stomach fluttered knowing who was watching on the other side. When I walked out of the shower into his room, Noah was playing an online game, but when he caught sight of me naked and wet, he forgot all about it. 

Until a chat popped up on his computer screen, asking if he could watch. Noah made sure I was alright with it, not wanting to put me in a position I was uncomfortable with but after some thinking, I agreed because the idea of someone watching us made the thrill that much hotter. 

“There you go. Make a fucking mess on me, angel. Be the good whore I know you can be and cum. Because as soon as you’re done, I’m going to force you on your knees so you can clean me up.” 

Noah’s vulgar words were my undoing as I let out a strangled scream, coating his thigh with my arousal. 

“Are you ready to give Jolly another show?” Noah’s nose brushed along my jawline as he breathed me in. 

My hand reached over to his cock, clothed in his black shorts, and began palming him. “Please.” 

[simp-ly-writes]

Breaking Character

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Gentleman!Boyfriend!Spencer Agnew x gn!Partner!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, part social-media au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive themes, attempt at humour.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,736

─ · · A/N: Asks are closed for a little while but that you to this amazing ask was from an anon! 🫶

─────── · ·

"Hello all you lovely watchers behind the screen, now I would usually save such corse words for the bedroom but you all appear lucky at the games table tonight," you cast a smile and wink towards the camera. Adjusting your wig before taking a drag out of your long fake cigarette. Your goal today was to get your boyfriend, Spencer, to break Character today in a video.

"As you can see, I am joined by a handful of my friends, especially this special friend beside me, remind me of your name again, dear?" you ask with a slight tilt to your head as you eye Spencer form his top hat down to his suspenders.

Spencer tries to hold your look before breaking under your stare, instead turning his back to you and turning fully towards the camera. "Good-day to you all, I am a gentleman here to play quite the crass game. Monopoly: Cheaters Addition, now I believe my wife would have something to say about this, but I wouldn't remember the names of any of them!"

"Ah'll tell ya what, mister, you're staring to sound like my fifth husband, couldn't remember my name while spending quality time with me inside the room nor outside. Now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember his name... maybe I should start to remember yours, m'sure a man like you would like that~" you tease yet keep to your chair observing as Spencer rolls his shoulders and turns to face you head on in character. By the wild look in his eyes, you can tell you are getting to him and by the end of this, you would be sure to hold him in the palm of your hand (in character of course!).

Disregarding your later statement, Gentleman Spencer clears his throat before replying, "And what type of man is your fifth husband, dashing and a rich-lad I would presume for something as gorgeous as you?"

You giggle to his words, hand reaching over the table to pick your piece, "Well, how am I s'possed to know? I'm only on my fourth but I'm sure he'll be out of the picture soon. I like to think I ran him dry in more ways than one-" Spencer begins coughing again before leaning down to erupt in laughter as does the rest of the cast and crew.

"Well, If yee two are done fucking around, It is time to introduce I- Thee masterful wizard thee-self, me" Shayne introduces his character, pointed a crocked finger and eye between the two of you. You shrug, taking a drag of your cigarette.

"Do tell me dear when it is my turn next, you see games of strategy are not for people like me- right?" you coyly state to Spencer who nods his head, still not ready to go back in character as you can see him taking in deep breathes to keep himself form falling into another pit of laughter and all you can do is smile, wiggling your eyebrows for all of that to go to hell.

"And it appears that the most intelligent always wait to go last. Names Tinky-Winky and I'm here to win. Should be easy with the table we have here tough-" Amanda tries to get the game moving before you put in one last jab.

"I wouldn't be to sure about that, what did you say, Rinky-Pinky?-?

"Tinky-Winky," Amanda clarifies with an eye-roll that you match with more exaggeration "Yes, tink-wink, whatever you're called just know that I will enjoy watching you all lose."

"Whatever you say, mobster," Amanda quips before quickly going over the rules as you place your head in your hands, blowing the hair out of your face.

─────── · ·

As the game progressed into the early stages, whatever civilized conversation you all tried to ensure at the start of the game was out the window, now full-blow yelling and screaming at one another as even the staff backed away, watching as the chaos exploded through the room and you all reverted fully into character.

"HEY! You just cheated!" Tinky-Winky Amanda screamed out to you, pointing their purple-gloved mitt in your face.

"Cheated?" You faked innocence, batting your eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched tone, "I would never cheat, thats something I save for me and my husbands!" you retort, now also standing up from your seat, hands gripping the table as you lena forwards to exaggerate your point before Spencer is pulling you back down to the table.

"Now I just don't like anyone putting their hands on my without me sayin' nothin' but I do like the feel of your hands, keep me grounded would ya? I'm forgetting my manners here with this lad," you mumble to the Gentleman beside you as he blushed bright red before starting to pull his hand away, coughing and choking on a reply only for you to hold in hand in position on your arm with a wink before returning your stolen money back to the bank and starting the new round.

"Penguin man! You seem a strange and pathetic fellow..." you off-handedly comment towards Spencer as Amanda takes her turn.

"Well yes, it comes from-" Spencer begins to speak before you continue your sentence.

"...I like that in a man," your voice drops to a sultry tone, head leaning against his arm enjoying the way Spencer sputters into nervous laughter and grips your hand.

─────── · ·

You noticed just how close Spencer had come multiple times during the filming but he had yet to call for a break, you were so sure of it at the start but had yet to get back to that point besides a few blushes and loaded looks your way but you stayed determined nevertheless.

Taking a long drag from your cigarette, you imagined it casting a hard cloud around and past Spencer head as you watched him take his turn, awaiting yours next. "Remember to win," you quiped with a sarcastic tone.

"I'll keep that in mind, dear. Now do be one and let this man concentrate," he replied with a playful glare in your direction before getting a snake-eyes that would nearly bankrupt the gentleman when landing on the dumpster wizards Shayne's hotel. "Fuck!" Spencer swore, tossing his top hat behind himself in outrage.

"I think the man needs to concentrate even more, I could help you~" you tease, picking up the top hat and placing it gently back on his head. Spencer only shakes his head once the hat is firmly back on. "I'm sure my mistresses are better-suited for such works, whatever would your husband think?"

"So outrageous of you to think my husband would do the thinking..." you mumble before picking up the dice in your hand and extending your palm with them towards Spencer. "Blow on these here die would ya, doll?" you ask as Shayne yells over the table, currently in a headlock from Tinky-Winky. "I thought it was custom to get the working women to blow your dice!?"

"Well he might be no dame but you're a dime in my eyes doll," you throw back without missing a beat.

"Ah-well. I may have a dime in my money bin! They make for a leisurely swim-" the Gentlemen comes into conversation as you are quick again to come to a response, "Would ya take me for a dip sometime then? I would love to see what else ya bring to the table?"

Spencer blinks, not wanting to look you into the eyes just yet and talks towards Amanda, "You know, I really can't say for certain, but do you think it's possible they're in it for the money and not my shining personality or physical connection?

And you do not allow time for Amanda to get a word in, knowing that now more than ever will get Spencer to crack his character, "It's not the money that I have my eyes on, sugar. I heard a little something about aerodynamics and clothes that I'm looking to test, and that test seems definitely responsive..." you end with a smirk watching as Spencer stands and turns around to face the wall.

"OKAY! OKAY!" Spencer admits to defeat as you stand up and cheer, running to hug him from behind as you both sway back and forth. "I made you loose character~" you sing-song.

"Yeah, yeah you did. Good job, lovely," Spencer groans before you both are told to re-take your seats and finish the game properly. To everyone surprise the Dumpster Wizard Shayne somehow ended up winning by pulling a Angela and stealing all the money as you were celebrating your boyfriends defeat in good fun.

"There is no way you could have won, I demand a recount!" you announce, throwing all your bills to the table. "And here I thought you weren't in it for the money," Spencer teases back. "Shut up, its only an added bonus," you snakily reply only to ultimately accept your defeat.

"Well, thank you all for sitting through this shit-show. We hope you join us again-" you begin to outro. "But not again for this exactly," Spencer cuts you off and clarify as the video fades to black by the sound of all your combined laughter flooding the studio once again.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Gentleman's Rules: Cheaters Monopoly!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 32k | 👎 7.78M subscribers 109k views 5 days ago only the politest of games... click to read more

998 Comments

username01 Spencer really out here acting all hot and flustered- simply adorable!

username43 The group of characters I never knew I needed, all we were missing was Chosen!Trevor and Angela to really round out the chaos of this episode!

username88 So in love with this Monopoly: Cheaters Edition- I never want it to end!!

username21 so... gentlemen's Just Dance when?

↳ username46 OMG YESSS, THIS HAS TO BE MADE A THING!!

username03 i love how determined (name) was to get Spencer to break character and how good he took it!

username94 really love how (name) was the one to make all of Spencers outrageous comments appear like the normal ones in comparison to theirs.

username77 Wait so i'm confused, im a new smosh fan and are these actors acting like they're dating or are they already together????

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala

[steephanie07]

The Road to Us - CL 16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary : The Road to us follows YN and Charles Leclerc as their unexpected connection grows into a deep, unwavering love. Through their journey, they face the challenges of life and racing, building a future together filled with dreams, laughter, and unbreakable promises.

Word count: 2,2 k

The night she met Charles had been unplanned, a spontaneous outing arranged by her friends Carmen and Kika. They had always tried to pull her into the world of Formula 1, and tonight was no exception. They each had a reason to be there—Carmen was dating George Russell, and Kika was with Pierre Gasly. Both women had taken YN under their wing, determined to get her out of her shell and have her join the F1 circles, hoping she’d meet someone who could make her heart race.

The club was buzzing that night, electric with the post-race excitement of drivers and team members celebrating a job well done. YN felt a little out of place, standing in a room full of world-class athletes and their glamorous friends. But she stayed close to Carmen and Kika, the three of them laughing together and sharing knowing glances as they navigated the bustling crowd.

Then, as they made their way toward the drivers’ table, she noticed Charles. He sat at the far end, relaxed but visibly worn from the day’s race, his eyes bright with an intense energy she found intriguing. When their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them, a silent question neither was prepared to answer just yet. He nodded at her, a friendly, slightly shy smile playing on his lips. YN felt her pulse quicken, caught off-guard his gaze lingered just a moment longer than it should have.

They exchanged small talk that night, but it felt like more than polite conversation. His questions were thoughtful, his responses genuine, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. YN couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special about this man, something that tugged at her heart even though she barely knew him. When she left that night, she found herself glancing back over her shoulder, catching him watching her as she slipped out into the night.

Days later, their paths crossed again at a quiet gathering organized by mutual friends. As they reached for the same deck of cards during a game, their fingers brushed—a brief, unexpected touch that sent a jolt through her. It was a simple moment, one that might have gone unnoticed with anyone else. But with Charles, it felt significant. He looked at her, his eyes filled with surprise and curiosity, and she felt the world around them blur. It was just a touch, but it left her wondering about him, wondering if he’d felt that same spark.

Sensing the connection between them, Pierre, along with Carmen and Kika, decided to give fate a little nudge. They arranged a casual dinner, inviting both YN and Charles, but conveniently didn’t show up themselves. When she arrived, YN was caught off guard to see that she and Charles were the only ones there. For a moment, they both laughed, realizing they’d been set up, but the evening quickly shifted from awkward to unforgettable.

They talked for hours, moving from lighthearted jokes to sharing dreams and fears they usually kept hidden. They discussed everything from the pressures of fame to their childhood dreams, discovering a mutual love for simple things like stargazing and quiet nights at home. By the time they parted, she felt as if she’d known him forever. The walls they’d both kept up had softened, and there was a new understanding between them—a silent acknowledgment that something real was beginning to blossom.

The months that followed were filled with more of these precious moments. One evening, as they sat beneath a sky full of stars, Charles took her hand. “YN, do you think… this could be it? That we might be meant for each other?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to break the magic of the moment. Her heart raced, and she smiled, nodding as she leaned into his embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, they became something more, officially stepping into a love story that would change their lives forever.

They took their first trip together not long after. In Paris, they walked along the Seine, hand in hand, exploring hidden cafes and wandering through art galleries as if they were the only two people in the world. Away from the noise and pressures of their usual lives, they found solace in each other. Charles fell in love with the way her face lit up with each new discovery, and YN was captivated by his ability to find joy in the smallest things. It was during this trip that Charles began to picture a future with her, a life built on these small, shared moments.

Over time, they spoke more seriously about the future. One evening, in the warmth of her apartment, they imagined what a life together would look like. Charles playfully brought up the idea of adopting a dog, describing a scruffy little companion that would join them on adventures. YN laughed, picturing their cozy home filled with laughter and love. Charles mentioned wanting a house of their own, a place they could return to after the highs and lows of life on the road. It was a lighthearted conversation, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that told her he meant every word.

There were simple, tender gestures that spoke volumes about their love. One night, as they sat together on the couch, Charles reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. It was in these small acts of affection that YN realized just how deeply he cared for her, how much she had come to mean to him.

Then came the moment they both knew they were in love. They had been watching the sunset, lost in each other’s presence, when Charles, with a voice full of emotion, whispered, “Je t’aime, YN.” She felt her heart swell, her own voice trembling as she whispered it back. That simple phrase changed everything, solidifying a commitment they had both felt but hadn’t fully expressed until that moment.

Meeting each other’s families was a monumental step. Charles introduced her to his mother, who embraced YN with a warmth that felt like coming home. His brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, welcomed her with open arms, teasing Charles but treating her with respect and kindness. YN felt a deep sense of belonging, as if she was finally stepping into a family that she could call her own. In return, she introduced Charles to her family, and he won them over with his sincerity and charm, making them laugh and easing any nervousness with his effortless grace.

As time passed, they found the perfect house, nestled away from the bustling city, with a sprawling garden and cozy nooks. They adopted the scrappy little dog Charles had always dreamed of, and together they began to build a life, filling each room with laughter, love, and memories. It was a home that reflected everything they had ever wanted—a safe haven from the world where they could be themselves, unguarded and at peace.

Through the years, they faced challenges together. Charles endured difficult moments in his racing career, enduring setbacks and disappointments. YN was there for him, her unwavering support grounding him when he felt lost. She reminded him that he was more than his achievements, that his worth went beyond the racetrack. In his moments of doubt, her love became his anchor, the steady force that helped him find his way back to himself.

And when Charles fell ill one winter, YN took care of him, tending to him with a gentleness that melted his heart. She stayed up with him during the long, quiet hours, whispering words of comfort and promising to be there through every struggle. In these moments, their bond grew even deeper, a testament to a love that had weathered both joy and hardship.

As they stood at the altar, surrounded by friends, family, and teammates, YN and Charles were ready to make their vows. Carmen and Kikka sat in the front row, eyes bright with pride and joy. Beside Charles were his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, smiling as they watched him prepare for this moment. His mother beamed, her heart full as she looked upon the woman her son had chosen.

Charles took YN’s hands, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “YN,” he began, his eyes locked onto hers, “I promise to remember the first time we met, how I couldn’t take my eyes off you, even though I tried to hide it. I promise to remember the way our hands brushed that night, how that simple touch lingered in my mind, leaving me wanting more.”

He continued, each word carrying the weight of the memories they’d shared. “I’ll never forget that night when you stood at the edge of our table, looking a bit out of place but holding your ground. You were brought over by Carmen and Kika , and in that moment, I saw the light in you. I’ll always remember the little things—every look, every unplanned moment that led us here.”

The guests listened in quiet awe as Charles’s voice softened, recalling their first night spent together when their friends had set them up and then mysteriously disappeared, leaving YN and Charles to talk until dawn. “That night, we shared our dreams, our worries, and realized there was something real between us. I’ll remember our first date, the first time I knew I couldn’t imagine my life without you. And our first kiss… under the stars, when you made me realize I was yours.”

A few murmurs rippled through the guests, touched by the intimacy of his words. Charles glanced down briefly, then looked back at YN with warmth in his gaze.

“I promise to be there through the hard times,” he said. “When life feels overwhelming, when we’re far from each other, or when I’m struggling on the track. You’ve been my anchor, YN. Every DNF, every loss… you reminded me to keep going, to focus on what really matters. And I swear to always be there for you, too. Je serai là, toujours. No matter what.”

As he spoke, YN felt tears welling up, each word drawing her deeper into the shared memories that had brought them here. Charles’s hand gently held hers as he continued with a soft smile.

“Most of all, I promise to dream with you,” he said. “To talk about our future, our plans—our maison, our home. I promise to hold your hand as we build a life together, to be by your side as we fill it with laughter, with love, and maybe, one day… a family.”

His voice softened further, his gaze locked on hers. “Je t’aime, pour toujours,” he finished, his promise shimmering in the air around them. Their future was bright, and they stood ready to embrace it, together.

YN took a deep breath, her heart swelling with love for the man standing before her. With a tender smile, she began her vows. “Charles,” she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion, “I promise to be there for you through the quiet, simple moments and the chaos of our lives. To always support you, laugh with you, and hold you when things get tough. And, above all, to love you—today, tomorrow, and for the rest of our days.”

YN’s eyes shone as she looked at him, her words full of sincerity. “I promise to stand by your side through every challenge, every victory, and every ordinary day. To love you with patience, loyalty, and understanding. I’ll be there for the tough times and the joyous ones, just as you have always been for me.”

The guests exchanged knowing glances, touched by the beauty of their vows. Charles’s eyes glistened with emotion as YN finished.

They exchanged rings, sealing their promises to each other with a gentle kiss. The applause of their loved ones filled the air, a beautiful sound marking the start of a new chapter in their journey. Together, they had built something real—a love that would last forever.

A few years later…

.

.

.

The house was still, save for the gentle hum coming from the nursery. YN leaned against the doorway, watching Charles as he rocked their newborn daughter, Léa, back and forth in his arms. The soft glow of the nightlight cast a warm light on them, bathing the room in peace.

Charles looked down at Léa, his face softened with awe as he whispered to her, his voice tender. “Someday, ma petite, I’ll tell you the story of how I met your Maman. She’s the reason you’re here, the reason I know what love truly means.”

He looked up and caught YN’s gaze. In that moment, their hearts were fuller than they ever imagined, their shared journey now deepened by the tiny life they’d created together.

Every promise they had made was now a part of their everyday life, woven into the laughter and warmth of their home. Their vows had been the foundation, but now they were building something new—something lasting and beautiful. And as they stood together, their child in their arms, they knew their story was only just beginning.

[bayetea]

a lot of people hate the hazel mist magic stuff and I won't deny that it was developed and implemented very weirdly but I actually really appreciate that it's partially connected to marie levesque who mind you summoned the lord of death/riches through her own powers. he didn't just meet her on the street and fall in love like other mortals parents she summoned a big three god to come directly to her (and then he fell for her afterwards). thusly it wasn't some late game add-on it was established very early in hoo that marie already had mystical powers of some kind based on new orleans gris-gris traditions and exploring that for hazel is pretty cool actually and makes sense! 👍

(also something something about frazel parallels where they both have special gifts that stem from their chinese/african heritage and not their godly fathers 😌)

for me the thing about it that sucks isn't that it's inherently bad or op as a lot of people seem to think (look me in the eyes and tell me that hazel is written on the page as more op than the likes of percy. rick limits her powers so much still even tho imo big three kids have a right to be op) it's that hazel's magic appears primarily tied to hecate and greek/roman mist magic instead of louisiana-haitian vodou influences (haitian vodou/louisiana voodoo are actual religions that have some key distinctions from each other, I'm just saying that rick could have drawn from either/both of them more when establishing hazel's powers). hecate mentioned marie explicitly when explaining why hazel has potential with magic but it's still pretty much all about nebulous greek/roman magic instead of new orleans-specific magic. let hazel levesque practice voodoo and cast hexes and work with spirits she deserves it (she is already a daughter of pluto so the connection to spirits should be there!!!)

[mc-lukanette]

Luka knew that Marinette was Ladybug. Actually, he'd known for a while. What he didn't know was how long Marinette had known that he knew.

She didn't tell him so, but he saw it in how she reacted to him. She didn't feel as much need for excuses, often not saying anything before racing off as soon as there were signs of an akuma. He hadn't particularly done anything to dissuade the idea that he knew either, partly because it was true but also because he wasn't sure what to do with the information himself.

When he was certain she knew was a day on the Liberty where he'd found her idling on her phone. The other girls had headed up onto the deck, but Marinette had remained in the lounge room for whatever reason and he was genuinely curious about it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stepping up to her and slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Luka!" She giggled innocently. "I didn't know you were here! You weren't playing anything."

"I was meditating," he said, though eyed her body language with suspicion. Her logic for not knowing he was around checked out, but he felt as if she wasn't telling the truth. He only ignored it because he couldn't figure out why she would lie about it.

"Oh. I'm just playing a new game that came out." She raised her phone as close to his face as she could.

He noted the main menu and the characters strewn about, recognizing them instantly as the superheroes that fought against akuma, such as Ladybug and even himself. He tilted his head to look past the phone at her, asking, "What's it about?"

She scooched to the side despite the already available space on the couch, then patted the spot where she'd been sitting. He wasn't a big fan of gaming himself, but he was a big fan of Marinette, so he sat in the spot she'd offered up and listened intently to her talk.

"You pick one character to start," she explained, indicating the various options on-screen, "and then the more levels you play, the more coins you get, and you can use it to buy upgrades or more characters."

"You buy characters?" He blinked.

She laughed, giving him a playful nudge in the arm. "You really don't play games, do you?"

His heart stuttered as she squished herself against him, allowing both of them a decent view of her phone. She tapped at the screen to proceed to the actual game and he tried very hard to focus on that and not the warmth to his side.

"It helps when you get a second character. You can pair them up and go on for longer since it's two instead of just one," she explained as she scrolled through various menus.

Luka also tried to not focus on the phrase 'pair them up,' which wasn't difficult at first, but then he saw the character selection screen and—

"Ladybug and Viperion," he noted.

"Hm~?" She stopped scrolling to point at the two. "Yeah, they're the pair I have."

"Only Ladybug and Viperion." That still wasn't a proper sentence, so he clarified, "You only have Ladybug and Viperion."

"Oh." She uttered it like she hadn't known when she definitely did. "Yeah? You only need two, so why should I waste my coins on anyone else when I could spend it upgrading the pair I have?"

He could think of multiple reasons. He wasn't sure how the game worked, but he imagined that the superheroes still had different powers and there were benefits depending on which two were paired up.

As if reading his mind, Marinette tapped the top edge of her phone to her chin and insisted, "Viperion's underrated. His power's not flashy, but it's really useful and he's perfect for someone like Ladybug."

His cheeks felt warm. What she was saying sounded like a casual observation of efficiency, but her voice was singing a different tune. The playful sparkle in her blue eyes as she peered up at him supported that.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

"Mhm~" She looked down at her phone again, then turned it to him to show the Ladybug and Viperion on the screen. "Their colors are even complementary. Don't they look good together?"

Never mind. His face felt hot. She even wiggled the phone at him, her smile shy but her gaze not leaving his as she waited for an answer.

Was this a punishment of sorts? Was he being tormented for not saying that he knew her identity? Was she really asking him such a thing when she already knew his feelings? Had she planned this, and that's why she was alone?

He opened his mouth, then decided he needed another second to think and cleared his throat instead. "Wouldn't that be up to them?"

It seemed like an obvious answer, but her smile widened further as if he'd passed a test. He didn't think she was actually testing him, but something of his did certainly feel tested: his sanity.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Marinette sighed, pulling away from him to slump against the backrest. Taking one more look at her phone and scrutinizing the image on the screen, she asked, "Do you think Viperion would be patient enough for someone like her?"

Caught off guard, he turned his body to better face her. "What?"

"For Ladybug. She must be busy since she's always dealing with akuma," she pointed out, waving a hand outwards, "so they wouldn't be able to date until she's dealt with Hawk Moth."

For a second, he thought she was continuing to tease him, but then it clicked for him what she was building to. She'd been playful, yet was using the conversation to tell him that they wouldn't be able to date.

Which meant that she reciprocated, something his brain was still scrambling to process, but she also felt like she couldn't act upon it due to Hawk Moth. Talking about Ladybug and Viperion as separate entities had been to keep things safe in case any of the girls returned while serving as a way of mentally distancing herself from it. It was an unpleasant realization to wrestle with against the delight of knowing that she felt the same as he did.

"I'm..." He reached over, slipping his hand over the one holding her phone. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind, no matter how busy she was."

To his confusion, she shook her head almost adamantly. He wondered if perhaps she was going to argue that 'Viperion' wouldn't mean it if he was to say such a thing, but she instead said, "I think Ladybug would want better for him than that; she'd want to be able to put herself into the relationship without Hawk Moth in the way." She stared at their hands on her phone with a soft smile. "Besides, I bet it'd be a motivator."

He leaned closer, noting how her voice had lowered in volume. "How?"

With a sheepish giggle, she replied, "Wouldn't Ladybug want to defeat Hawk Moth that much more if she knew the reward was getting to ask her future boyfriend out?"

His heart pounded, his hand on hers giving off a slight shake. What had started as a bit of joking around had grown into something more heartfelt and serious, with him suddenly wondering if Ladybug could use any of his input on how to best find out Hawk Moth's identity.

Chuckling affectionately yet with just as much longing as her, he promised, "If Ladybug is even half as amazing as he already thinks, Viperion will beat her to it when Hawk Moth's gone."

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Jeff the Accountant breaks my heart. He’s born of such hope and innocence.

Accountant is the standard no-one-asks-you-any-questions-stock-answer-at-parties career answer. That’s partly the joke. But that isn’t why Ed says it. Ed’s in earnest. He thinks ‘accounting sounds fancy as fuck’. Genuinely. And his audience includes an aristocrat called Antoinette who asserts one should just ‘inherit money like a normal person’. She calls embezzlement ‘grubby’, not because of the morality issues, but because it’s having to do something for money. What must she think of working for a living?

Ed must figure these hoity-toity folk value money, so if I say I work in accounting, it’ll sound impressive. Instead he sounds like staff gone rogue.

Compare to Frenchie who wonders what the heck Ed’s thinking, and gets how to play the game. Go high! Crown Prince and Viceroy. Although Olu and he only get away with it because they’re working the sidelines and appealing knowingly to baser instincts. They have the upper hand because of Frenchie’s savvy. And of course they do receive racist comments despite deflecting class jibes through their elected personas. Ed doesn’t escape either ‘sin’.

Ed goes as high as he dares, which is professional middle class. And he likes the name ‘Jeff’, so that’ll do. No last name though. It’s as if he doesn’t have the schema or self-esteem to dream bigger.

It’s incredibly… pathetic. And I mean it in the poignant sense. Of course it all goes horribly wrong because it was never going right. Antoinette was always waiting to tell ‘Jeff the Accountant’ that he was going to ‘bore us to death’ once they’d had their fun. But he probably could’ve said he was Pharaoh himself, he was never going to win the approval of this particular set of white folk.

Objectification: the racism towards ed

In a way, though, there’s something so incredibly unspoiled about Ed here. ‘Jeff’ comes across as unworldly despite his anecdotes and japes, and misguided, unkind ridicule of Stede. Ed thinks he’s winning the interaction. Like a child who doesn’t realise the adult is deliberately letting them win; not in this instance though to build self-esteem, but rather to make the denouement all the more terrible when they finally turn the tables.

Ed has a recurring motif of not understanding what constitutes laughter. He does hear it correctly in this instance, but he cannot interpret that it’s mocking, othering, and not inclusive. And Ed only understands Gabriel’s tone quickly at the table because of Stede’s coaching.

It’s heart-wrenching that Ed thinks he’s accepted because there’s laughter and attention. That personhood is that easy to acquire in the eyes of those who have seized the power to decide its criteria and application.