#and god does John need a hug

[fedorasaurus]

Good god, Faith was a horrific game.

...

Alright time to look up naughty fanfics. >:)

[gomzdrawfr]

anything to get some head pats and praises

[ecofear]

every time jackie severance is in these books i feel like im going to combust

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[yuujispinkhair]

CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Minors don't interact. Mentions of cigarettes. This drabble is part of my Cowboy!Sukuna series, but you don't need to know the main story to read it. Divider by @/issysh3ll

In the past, Cowboy!Sukuna never joined the annual Christmas tractor parade that all the other farmers and cowboys around your small town participate in. Sukuna thought it was stupid and cheesy, and after all, he had his reputation as the lonesome, bad boy cowboy who was more likely to be the Grinch than Santa!

But that was until you found your way into Sukuna's heart. You moved into his ranch and brought Christmas with you. And now you stand before him with that fucking cute pout on your pretty face and practically beg him,

"Kunaaaa, please you should join! Just think of how happy it makes the little kids to see all the decorated tractors!"

Sukuna huffs at first, while hugging you to his tall body, craving your warmth after he just came back from fixing the fences in those freezing temperatures,

"I don't care about those random kids."

"But you care about me, and I know you want to make me happy, right? And it would make me very happy to join that Christmas parade with you, baby."

Fuck, how could he say no to you when you give him those puppy dog eyes and that sweet smile? Sukuna laughs, grabbing your chin with one hand, and he leans down to bring his face closer to yours, grinning as he whispers against your lips,

"You are not fighting fair, baby."

His lips claim yours in a slow, teasing kiss before Sukuna pulls away again. He cocks his head and tips his cowboy hat,

"Alright, I'll drive to town and run some Christmas errands for you, ma'am."

And you laugh and blow him a kiss, telling him to drive safe just like you always do, always so sweet to him. Always worried about him, wrapping him in your love. Sukuna is already walking towards his truck, lighting a cigarette, when you open the kitchen window to yell after him that you'll cook his favorite dinner while he is away and some Christmas cookies, too. Sukuna wonders if his cheeks hurt from the icy wind blowing in his face or from how much he is smiling.

He drives to the small hardware store you used to work in before you moved into Sukuna's ranch, and he returns to you a few hours later carrying several boxes of fairy lights and LED decorations in various shapes and forms.

You laugh that sweet laugh Sukuna loves so much when you see him,

"Oh my god, Sukuna! I didn't think you'd buy the whole Christmas section!"

"Well, my girl said she wants to participate in the Christmas parade, so I will make damn sure I have the best fucking Christmas tractor there is!"

The left corner of Sukuna's lips twitches, and a second later, he breaks out into laughter, too. He lets the Christmas lights drop to the kitchen floor when you fling yourself at him, and Sukuna wraps a tattooed arm tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, smiling when you get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Sukuna keeps his word, just like he always does when it comes to you. He spends hours in the barn decorating his old John Deere, wrapping it in fairy lights, and fixing the blinking Santa and reindeer figures to the roof.

Sukuna thinks it looks absolutely horrendous. A big blinking Christmas monstrosity. But then you walk into the barn and gasp and stare at the all-decked-out tractor. Your eyes shine even brighter than the crazy number of fairy lights that Sukuna just attached to his old John Deere. And he thinks to himself that it was all worth it.

Sukuna climbs into the tractor, extending a hand to you, which you take, and he pulls you up and into his lap. You are surrounded by hundreds of blinking fairy lights that cast the inside of the tractor into a colorful, festive light.

Sukuna's arms wrap around you as he presses play on his phone, which is connected to the tractor's radio. The Christmas playlist you shared with him starts playing, filling the inside of the tractor with your favorite Christmas songs.

"Is this what you had in mind, sweetheart?"

Sukuna asks, his smile clearly audible in his low voice. And you turn around so you're straddling Sukuna's lap and look at him, reaching out to cup his tattooed face with your small hands, beaming at him happily,

"Yes, this is even more than I had in mind! It's perfect! Thank you so much! Merry Christmas, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too. Merry Christmas, princess... but there's one more thing."

Sukuna points up at the little mistletoe that he glued to the ceiling earlier and that's dangling above your heads now. You chuckle while Sukuna grins his most charming boyish grin at you, waiting for you to kiss it off his lips with a sweet, long Christmas kiss.

And for the first time in his adult life Sukuna thinks that Christmas is truly magical.

SIGHHHHHHH oh how I missed Cowboy!Sukuna 💗💗 I went to a tractor parade, and of course, all I could think about was Cowboy!Sukuna, so I HAD to write this cute little drabble!! I hope it made you happy, too.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all my fellow Sukuna lovers 💗

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

141 - First Words

So my baby said his first word the other day and mine and my partners reaction was fucking hilarious. Now I can't stop thinking about the 141 reaction to their baby saying Dada for the first time

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish would cry, like ugly tears type crying. No he does not care about the snot coming out of his nose, his precious baby just said Dada. He was on the floor playing with baby MacTavish during tummy time, you were in the kitchen cleaning up after you and Soap decided to bake Making another baby. Baby MacTavish is a chatter box like their daddy, always babbling and Soap answered back to baby MacTavish's very interesting story. Soap didn't hear it at first, he thought it was babbling nonsense until he heard it again. The simple word Dada and he's picking baby MacTavish up and rushing to the kitchen 

Thay said Dada

Soap holding baby MacTavish up like a prize

Fuck off, you're lying (Your baby was growing up too quickly)

Their first word was Dada

Soap was already crying

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick would be shocked, swears he's going deaf because no way baby Garrick is talking already. Gaz was bouncing baby Garrick on his knee, pulling funny faces to hear their belly laugh, you were on Netflix trying to find a movie to watch. You were both were in your own world before baby Garrick screamed then ever so quietly said Dada, you and Gaz's head snapped towards each other as you stared at each other 

Did they -

I think so

Gaz turning to baby Garrick

Did you say Dada? You can't have, you were born like last week

Babe they're 8 months old now 

Nope. Still a wrinkly baby 

Captain John Price would just smile, like a smug smile that baby Price's first word Dada. Make's him feel like he's the favourite parent Not realising that when baby Price is upset you can use the fact they can only say Dada against him "Sorry baby, they want you :)". Knowing Price's luck, baby Price will say Dada when he's at work. As soon as you hear the words you're on the phone ringing Price, he picks up at the first ring scared something happened. When you tell him what happened you best believe he's dropping everything to come home, doesn't matter if he's in a very important meeting with Laswell. Baby Price said Dada, he must go home at once

Price coming home and runs straight past you

See, I'm the favourite parent 

John Baby... That's not how that works-

Price is ignoring you as he's kissing baby Price's cheeks 

I'm gonna buy you anything you want. Just say Dada again. Please

Simon 'Ghost' Riley also cries. He'll cry silent tears as he holds baby Riley to his chest, years ago he never thought he'd have his own family and now he's here. Witnessing his baby's first words. Ghost, being the excellent father he is, basically forced you to finally go out for girls night knowing you needed time to yourself. Ghost couldn't wait for a night of tummy time, playing and just straight up cuddling while watching Bluey. Baby Riley was laid on their daddy's chest, trying to fight sleep but failing miserably and just before baby Riley fell asleep they said Dada as they clutched to Ghost's shirt.

Did you say Dada

Ghost didn't move realising baby Riley is now asleep

God I never thought I'd love anyone more then I love your mummy

Ghost carefully hugs baby Riley tighter 

But then you came into my life. Best thing to ever happy to me and your mummy  

[jaeeyaaasworld]

Car Shopping - LN4

Featuring: Lando Norris x reader

Warning(s): disrespectful car guy, Lando being basically a trophy boyfriend, Lando being a cutie (GOD THIS IS SO AWFUL. I'm sorry but I just got back to writing, pls have mercy on me)

Summary: Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.

Y/n, a pretty famous model, shouted her boyfriend name in the Monaco attic, entering the living room and sitting on the couch next to Lando, her boyfriend.

"I'm gonna buy it"

she started, earning a confused look on the Formula 1 driver.

"you're gonna buy... what?"

he asked, trying to understand what she was talking about, but suddenly his eyes widenened with realization.

"is it the YSL heels? no, princess, I was gonna get them for you"

he whined, making Y/n aw at his antics.

"you are gonna get them for me? that's really sweet, but it's not them"

she said with a big smile, making Lando furrow his eyebrows.

"is it the Minaudière make up by Dior, then?"

he tried, but getting a shook of head from Y/n.

"come on, Lando. think harder"

Y/n insisted, looking at him with big doe eyes, making him understand in an instant.

"the Porsche. you're getting the Porsche GT3 RS"

Lando said, sitting up with the biggest grin that you've ever seen. with just a nod of your head, Lando was already hugging you tightly, yelling at the top of his lungs as he pulled you on top of him on the couch.

"are you for real?"

he asked, pulling back a little to look you in the eyes.

"I checked if the dealer in Monaco had it in their site, and it says that they could get it shipped here"

you squealed as Lando yelled again and pulled you back in the hug.

"gosh, I'm so happy. are we going now? can I come with you?"

he asked, making you nod your head and get up to get ready to leave.

Time skip: at the dealer

Lando was parking his McLaren in the parking lot when you walked into the big shop and started searching for someone to help you.

the faint voice of someone almost arguing caught your attention.

"it's a girl, shut up John, you got the last one. look at that bag, her husband it's surely filthy rich- hi"

a guy came in front of you, as you recognized his voice as the guy that was arguing with the other worker earlier, noticing how his eyes were setting on the Birkin Lando had gifted you for Christmas.

"my name is Mike, how can I help a pretty girl like you?"

he asked, a sick smile on his lips that almost made you gag. you put a smile on anyway, since you were a really polite person.

"uhm... yes, hi. I read on your site that you can get the blue Porsche GT3 RS shipped here, right?"

you asked politely, making Mike's eyes widen and nod his head.

"sure, come I'll help you"

he said, starting to walk towards his computer, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echoing on the walls.

"no husband?"

Mike asked, sitting at his desk and searching around for what he needed.

"my boyfriend is parking his car outside"

you corrected him, making him nod.

"you know what you're getting into?"

Mike asked again, making you smirk as you wanted to put a stop to his teasing and attempts to fool you.

"of course I know"

you said, hearing a faint 'damn it' come from the man behind the desk.

"alright, the car is gonna cost a bit much, but I'm sure you already know that since you know what you're getting into. I mean, it's a Porsche, there's not much I can do about it. so... the price is gonna be 320.000 euro-"

"WHAT?!"

Mike couldn't even finish his sentence that Lando's shout could be heard from the other side of the open door.

"that's a robbery-"

he started, but your raised hand stopped him as you got up from the seat in front of Mike's desk. you gave Lando your Birkin as you leaned on Mike's desk.

"Mike, that price is 60.000 euros over the actual price. I accept the fact that you didn't recognize me, but you surely recognize my boyfriend, right?"

the car dealer gulped as he nodded his head.

"now... don't you feel ashamed trying to scam a girl that's been around cars since she was a child and is now in a relationship with a Formula 1 driver? don't you think that I might really know what I'm getting myself into, huh?"

you asked the man, still leaning on the desk.

"I'm far too good for letting you still sit on that chair behind that desk"

you finished, a scoff left your lips as you took your Birkin back and walked out of the concessionary with Lando's hand on your lower back, opening the door for you.

"princess"

he called before you could reach the McLaren, making you hum and turn towards him. Lando placed both his hands on your arms in comfort.

"I know you're angry. why don't we go to that fine restaurant that you like and take a walk around the track, just the way you like?"

he asked softly, getting a sad nod in return as he pulled you close, his lips on your forehead.

"my princess"

he sighed, kissing your lips and smiling down at you.

"I'm gonna make sure we have a consultation with another dealer next time, promise"

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[reidtina]

Mr. President

Pairing: jack schlossberg x fem!reader

Content warning: +18 MDI semi-public sex (I think it's considered), oral sex (reader receiving), pet name calling (honey, darling, baby, babe), vaginal fingering, orgasm, office sex, smut, mentions of sex, established relationship, I think that's it

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Jack Kennedy Schlossberg is the grandson of the Former President John F. Kennedy, and now he's the one to assume the role of president of the USA, he's a serious politician, but when it comes to his girlfriend Y/N, he's also a little horny, which sometimes leads to situations like eating her pussy in his office at the white house.

A/n: i wrote it because I didnt find many fics of him, but it's my first ever, I posted it on ao3 too

You’ve been dating Jack for over 3 years now, you lived in New York City, and since he moved to the White House in Washington you didn’t get to see each other as often as you’d want, but you had a few free days this week, so you decided to spend them in DC with him. The guards already knew you, so they let you in and you went straight to your boyfriend’s office on the west wing.

When he hears your knock on the door, he yells a little “come on in” and as you open the door, he looks up from the paperwork he was doing and smiles at you.

“Hey, darling” he says standing up from his chair and making his way to you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you” he sighs, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve missed you too, babe, I wish we could spend more time together” you say

“I know” he replies, sliding his hands to your hips, pulling you over to sit down on the edge of his desk. “But I want to make up for the lost time” he stands between your legs, running his hands up and down your thighs. “I was about to go crazy having to work without seeing you all day” he says kissing your neck. His fingers move just under the hem of the tight black dress you are wearing.

“God, how I love this dress” he mumbles, his hands moving from your hips to slowly run up and down your back, feeling the soft lace on your skin through the fabric.

“Does that mean you don’t want to take it off?” you ask in a teasingly tone with a grin on your face.

He chuckles and is fast to reply “Oh, no, honey, I may love it, but there’s nothing you can wear that I’d like more than the sight of your bare skin”. He bites your shoulder lightly and runs his tongue over the spot he just bit.

Jack nips at your neck, planting a trail of kisses all the way down from your neck to your collarbone. “It’s not even fair how beautiful you are” he mumbles against your skin, his large, warm hands sliding under the dress to grab your thighs. He pulls back to look at you and his eyes roam your body, admiring every curve and dip of your figure under the form-fitting dress. “God, I need you” he groans.

“You have me, I’m yours” you say looking deep into his eyes and your hand cupping his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

When you break the kiss, he says “No, I need you right now” gripping at your waist to pull your body closer to his, pressing his hips into yours. His eyes are darkened with lust, his breathing heavy. “Can you lock the door?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

You get up from the desk and make your way to the door and while he closes the curtains you turn the key on the door, locking it and as soon as he hears the click of the door locking echoing through the office and you go back to where he’s standing, he pounces. He grabs your hips again and pins you to the edge of his desk, his mouth crashing into yours in a messy kiss. The kiss is hot, desperate, his tongue invades your mouth, tangling with yours.

“Hooking up with the president in the white house, that’s kinky” you mutter through the kiss, running one hand through his hair and the other lightly scratching his chest. “God, that mouth of yours” he mutters back, then running his tongue slowly over yours, before pulling away slightly. “Maybe I’ll have to put it to good use for me” he says, nipping your bottom lip and pinning you harder to the desk with his hips. His hands grip your thighs, slowly sliding up your dress. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck, biting softly at the skin, his warm breath fanning across your chest through the fabric of your dress. His hands continue to slide up your thighs, and he moves to push your legs apart.

He lifts you up and sets you gently on the desk, his body now between your legs, his lips are on your neck, slowly sucking in the soft skin and marking you as his own. His hands are on your hips, holding you against him as he continues to kiss and bite every bit of skin he can find, sometimes getting a moan out of you.

“God, you’re delicious” he mutters against your skin, his hands moving to your thighs as he pushes your dress up, slowly running his hands up your bare legs, his lips find their way to your collarbone, and he kisses, nips and sucks, masking your skin as he goes. “So soft” he breaths heavily, placing a kiss right over your chest before moving down to your bare thighs, his hands grip on them, as he slowly spread your legs wider “I need more” he groans and you moan to the feeling of his mouth on your thighs. “Take it” you say softly and low.

His lips move to your knee, where he bites down gently “Careful what you say to me” he mutters, his hands slowly tracing up your inner thigh “I’ll take everything I can”, his words send shivers up your spine. “It’s yours to take” you whisper as he pushes your legs open even further, biting gently at your inner thigh, his lips moving over your skin “you’re mine” he says, his hot breath washing over you. “I am” you confirm, nodding and caressing his hair as his lips find their way higher and higher, until you feel them press against your core through your underwear, he gently bites and sucks at the skin and then pauses to say: “and no one else’s”

“No one else’s, only yours” you confirm again, eager to feel his mouth on your skin again and then his tongue darts out, licking over the fabric of your underwear once again. He looks up at you through black eyelashes and whispers “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to”, his fingers running over the lace of your panties. “Show me, babe” you ask.

He grins at you, and in one swift movement, he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls the lace off, tossing them somewhere on the floor, before quickly getting back on his knees in front of you. He runs his hands up your legs again, his fingers slowly running over the sensitive skin of your center. “I’m gonna make you say my name” he says in a seductive tone. “Oh, fuck” you let out a moan when one of his fingers enters you.

He moves his other hand up to grip your thigh, pulling you closer to him “That’s not it, darling” he teases, his breath hot on your skin and now two fingers moving inside of you. “Say it” he demands, his lips trailing up your thighs, moving closer to where his fingers are, his lips move up and down, not quite where you need them yet. “Jack, please” you beg, your voice shaking in lust and need. He runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of your thighs, teasing you “please what, honey?” he asks, looking up at you, his brown eyes darkened with lust, burning through your skin. “Please eat my pussy” you ask, barely able to let out the words through your desperation. “That’s all you had to say, darling” he mutters, and wasting no more time his tongue dives into you, his mouth and fingers working over you. He sucks and licks at your skin, tasting every bit of you as he devours you, his tongue moves rapidly.

He pulls back for a moment, running his tongue over his lips, the corners of which turn up in a sly grin “I’ve been wanting this all that, baby” he says and you grin down at him and teasingly say “You love the way I taste, don’t you?” He hums against you, his tongue running up and down again “Yeah, I do. I’m addicted to you” he says, his eyes flickering up, watching your facial expressions, admiring your moans and the way you tilt your head back in pleasure, loving every second of it. “You know I love when you sound like that” he mutters, his eyes never leaving you. “Jack” you moan his name, the sound of it sending blood down his cock, he loves the sounds you make, loves the fact that he’s able to get you this worked up “Say it again” he asks and you obey, moaning his name again as you bite your lower lip “I’m almost cumming, Jack” you groan. “Yeah, baby?” he smirks onto your skin, keeping his fingers movements at the same pace and asks you “Tell me what you want”

“Just keep doing it like this” you say grabbing his hair and he groans against you, loving the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he obliges, continuing to move his tongue and fingers in just the way he knows you love. “Just like this, baby? You like that”

“Uhm, yeah, just like that” you moan, his mouth working to get you just where you need to be, you feel your legs shaking and your breath getting heavier when you finally cum on his fingers and mouth, he laps up your release, pulling out his fingers and running his tongue over your core and sucking his fingers before standing up and grabbing you to hold your body against his. He kisses you, giving you a taste of your own pussy, “You’re so perfect” he says, cupping your face and holding your body against his. “I love you, Jack” you reply, he smiles, a soft, love-filled smile as he lifts you into his arms and walks over to his chair, sitting down and pulling your body into his lap, he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and whispers “I love you too, y/n”

“Where are my panties? I can’t be caught sitting here on your lap wearing nothing but a dress” you say and he grins against your skin “They’re on the floor somewhere, let’s hope no one walks in” he says, pressing a gentle kiss on your neck and running one hand up and down your bare leg. “Let me just grab them” you ask, grinning too and attempting to stand up, but he holds you in his lap “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere, not when you’re sitting on my lap with nothing but a dress”.

You chuckle and say “You’re so naughty, Mr. President”, he grins and says “Only for you, you menace. You make it so easy when you wear a dress like this”. So you tease him and say “Even easier when I don’t wear anything”. He groans and bites your neck “Don’t tease me like this, you know I’ll have you again” he says, running his hands on your bare thighs. “I’d be happy to let you have me as many times as you want to” you say, smirking. “I need to go through a few meetings and then I’ll take you back to my room” he promises, making even more eager to have him all to yourself all night long. “I can’t wait for that” you grin.

“Oh, I have so many ideas” he says, his lips moving to your shoulder “and you’ll have to follow every single one of them” he teasingly whispers, nipping at your skin and making you smile to the thought of the night you’ll have.

[lostintransist]

Listen all I gotta say is price and Johnny are the type to bear hug you during sex. I mean like fully encompassing your whole body, holding you as close as possible with their strong ass grip while they’re balls deep in you. That’s all, thank you and have a great day :)

Oooh anon I like the way you think. Let me posit a few ideas for you. Because brevity is NOT a skill I possess all my thoughts are below the fold.

MDNI 18+, Female reader (because it fits the narrative I want to write today)

CW: Pap smears and doctors appointments mentioned, sex (obviously), mentions of lubrication and anatomy lessons (because if I have to read one more 'it's so tight' I am going to start fight club in your comments. If the vagina is 'tight' it isn't aroused! Vaginas are small when not being used for pleasure or producing a human.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny bear hugs you, but not frequently. The first time it happened he had been hounding you all day for some action. You put him off with a smile and wore your prettiest day dress out for errands. "I can't miss my appointment today Johnny, and if I leave now I can get some shopping done."

He goes with you obviously because he hasn't seen you in weeks because of his job and spending time with you even at an appointment is better than missing you from home.

You didn't mention and he failed to ask what kind of appointment you had. Imgagine his delight shock to see you strip off your dress with absolutely nothing underneath because you have a yearly physical.

Let's not even argue the point that Johnny is horrified to see how a pap smear goes and apologizes the rest of the day that you have to do that as a part of having him as a newer partner. [I hate pap smears so much...Like I want to fist fight god for making them a thing that needs to happen.]

It takes him a couple hours to get over the sick feeling in his stomach. You had been mid conversation when the provider reached up and flipped down the sheet covering your breasts. They pressed and prodded all without either of you acknowleding what was happening. Was that normal? (It absolutely is.)

When you do finally let him convince (Lets not lie you also wanted this all day) help you to bed end up riding him as he orgasms. His arms snake out and pull you to his chest, the powerful bands of his muscles holding you tight to his chest as he shudders below you. He is overwhelmed and in awe of the things you have to do to keep your body healthy and how part of those things are his fault.

It does prevent you from coming like you wanted but Johnny, once he can see again, takes care of you before settling you both in a bath.

Captain John Price

This man is so used to being in charge that the first time he sinks home into you he is snaking his arms around you to bear hug you to his chest.

"If you move even a bit I am going to explode inside you like a fourteen year old boy and his first time touching a lover," he growls into your shoulder.

He didn't need to use lube on the regular but after you explained he quickly agreed.

"John you could do hours of foreplay and I would still not produce enough fluid to make this an enjoyable experiance for either of us." You smile uncomfortably as his eyebrows tuck downward in confusion. With a shrug you continue, "My body does all the other normal things."

"Normal things like what?" Ah man, he did it now. Education on bodies that had vaginas would always get you on a rant. "So you know how in media the common thing to say about a vagina when inserting a penis is 'oh it's so tight' because it is supposed to feel good for a man?"

John leans back in his chair, contemplation exchanged for his look of confusion. "Yes, go on."

"Okay. When a penis gets erect it grows in size and shape typically, so does a vagina. An unaroused vagina is only about 2 inches in length but when aroused it grows to on average about 4. The rush of blood down there allows it to become more elastic and accomodate many shapes and sizes."

At John's nod you continue, because you know that this can be an uncomfortable topic but you refused to go to bed with a man who didn't care enough to understand how your body works.

"Typically with arousal the vagina creates a lot of fluid to help with insertion." "Isn't that what precum is about too?" Biting your lip you decide if you are going to ruin his day. "No. What we call precum is a cleaning fluid because pee and baby batter use the same tubing in a penis."

"Oh." He looks mildy uncomfortable with this information. Well in for a penny in for a pound. "All that to say, I would love to have sex with you but we will need to use lube because my body doesn't produce enough fluid and the fluid you make isn't really what I will need."

John thought about that conversation as he sank home, the plushness of your thighs bracketing his hips. Shoving one arm behind your neck and the other under your back as you lay under him he focuses on breathing.

Lord only knows that an anatomy lesson from you would be what nearly sends him over the edge. When you start twitching under him he holds you tighter, a slight wheeze escaping your chest.

"Dove I am getting older and don't recover like I used to, give me another ten seconds and then I will fuck you like I'm trying to touch your brain."

That delightful little sentence had you clenching around him, but your hips stopped shifting. Damn, he might need to ask his doctor for some little blue pills because one round a night with you might not be enough.

I'm so totally normal about these fictional characters...yep.. totally normal.

[wendichester]

hello, I just wanted to say I really loved safe haven. I was hoping u could do a part 2 but when they’re teenagers?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ safe haven,

summary. john’s out for another hunt and the boys get dropped off with a trusted friend

pairing. teen!sam & dean winchester x mother-figure!oc

wordcount. 607

⋆.˚ ★— read part 1

The road is familiar—dusty, rutted, the kind that rattles through the tires like a memory. Dean keeps his hands tight on the wheel, knuckles pale, jaw clenched. Beside him, Sam slouches, legs stretched long, sneakers braced against the dash.

They haven’t been here in years.

“Think she still lives out here?” Sam asks, flicking a glance through the windshield.

Dean doesn’t answer. He just grips the wheel a little tighter, fingers drumming against it.

Truth is, he doesn’t know why they came. They were passing through, following a hunt two towns over, and then suddenly this place was on the map. In his mind. Under his skin.

The door swings open before they can knock.

“Well, well,” Annie hums, arms crossed, a knowing glint in her eye. “Look what the wind blew in.”

She doesn’t look surprised.

Dean watches her take them in, her gaze soft but knowing. Her hair’s streaked with silver now, a few more fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but the warmth—that’s the same. That’s her.

Sam grins, because of course he does. “Hey, Annie.”

She shakes her head like she can’t believe it, then reaches out and tugs him into a hug. “You shot up like a bean sprout,” she tuts, ruffling his hair before cupping his cheek like she’s measuring how much boy is left in him.

Dean shifts back instinctively, but it doesn’t matter—Annie’s already looking at him.

“You,” she says, softer now, tilting her head. “Still all sharp edges, huh?”

Dean shrugs. “World’s still rough.”

Annie hums like she understands. Then, without hesitation, she reaches up—slow, careful, like she’s giving him a chance to step away—and brushes her thumb under his eye, just like she did all those years ago. A small touch, fleeting.

Dean doesn’t move.

“Come inside,” she says.

And God, it smells the same.

Roast, bread, something sweet curling into the air like an invitation.

Sam steps in first, immediately gravitating toward the kitchen, but Dean lingers in the doorway. The walls haven’t changed—same pictures on the mantle, same handmade quilts folded over the couch. It feels like stepping through time, like they never left at all.

“You boys hungry?” Annie calls over her shoulder, already heading toward the oven.

Sam’s stomach betrays him before he can answer, a low growl cutting through the room.

Annie laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head, but his own stomach twists at the scent.

A plate lands in front of him before he even makes a decision. “Eat,” Annie says, no room for argument.

Dean hesitates. He doesn’t do this—sit down and eat like a normal person, like there’s no clock ticking down in the back of his head. But Sam’s already halfway through his plate, and Annie—she just waits. Patient. Knowing.

Dean picks up his fork.

The food is good. Too good.

Dean doesn’t realize how fast he’s eating until Annie murmurs, “Slow down, sweetheart. There’s plenty.”

His chest goes tight. He takes a breath, sets his fork down. Nods.

They eat in comfortable quiet.

And later—after Sam’s full and stretching like a satisfied cat, after the dishes are cleared and the fire crackles low in the hearth—Annie catches Dean’s gaze again.

“You’re still tired,” she murmurs.

Dean tenses. “I’m fine.”

Annie doesn’t argue. She just reaches for a blanket, the same one she wrapped around him years ago, and drapes it over his shoulders.

Dean should push it off. Should make some half-assed excuse about needing to hit the road.

Instead, he sinks into the couch.

And when Annie ruffles his hair, just once, just like before—

He lets her.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ( continues in the comments )

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Christmas has arrived and the annual holiday chaos ensues. Although with an exchanging of gifts comes a surprising shift. (I'm a poet and I didn't know it 👀🤣)

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings/tags: SMUT!(18+ONLY) fluff, swearing, mentions of death non-cannon.

AN: Okay this one is a rollercoaster of emotions so I apologise in advance! 🥲

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

Christmas had arrived, and the chaos was already in full swing.

The night before, you’d made another one of those pecan upside-down cakes—only after getting the green light from the self-proclaimed dessert connoisseur. Dean.

With it, you’d packed up all of yours and Dean’s presents, hauling them over to your family home while he went to pick up his folks, Sam and Jess. His dad’s truck was still at the shop, waiting on a new part, which meant Dean was stuck playing chauffeur.

That left you arriving first. A mistake.

The moment you stepped over the threshold, you walked straight into a war zone.

Ellen was already in full commander mode, barking orders in the kitchen while Jo stood at the counter, aggressively stirring something with the enthusiasm of a hostage. The second Jo spotted you, her eyes lit up with desperation, and she silently mouthed, help me.

You had half a mind to backpedal right out of there.

The house smelled incredible—roasting turkey, buttered rolls, a vary of herbs and spices—but the warm, festive aroma was nearly overpowered by the thick tension of Ellen’s military-grade organisation.

You barely had time to drop your gifts under the tree—a large Douglas fir standing proudly in the corner, dressed in colourful lights, tinsel, and a mix of store-bought and handmade ornaments, including the lumpy crafts you and Jo had made as kids—before Ellen’s sharp voice rang out.

“Where the hell have you been? Jo’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”

Jo let out an offended squawk. “I am standing right here.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Ellen shot her a look, hands on her hips.

You bit back a laugh. Even your father—tough, grizzled old Bobby—was keeping his head down at the kitchen table, nursing his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him safe. He caught your eye and gave you a look that clearly said, don’t make any sudden moves, kid.

“Bobby, taste this,” Ellen demanded, shoving a wooden spoon dangerously close to his face.

Bobby sighed, grumbling something under his breath, but ultimately took the spoon. He chewed, swallowed, and muttered, “Needs salt.”

“Damn right it does.” Ellen shot Jo another look—clearly, she’d been involved in its preparation—and was already moving to fix it.

Jo seized the opportunity to edge closer to you. “I swear to God, if she makes me redo one more thing, I’m ‘accidentally’ dumping the whole salt shaker in.” You snickered, a little too loudly.

“You two better not be conspiring,” Ellen called over her shoulder, because of course, she had a sixth sense for mischief.

It was a half-hour later before Bobby was greeting the Winchesters and Jess at the door, the men exchanging firm pats on the back as everyone piled into the house, shaking off the winter chill.

Mary was the first to pull you and Jo into warm hugs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before heading straight for the kitchen, already offering her help. John and Sam followed, both of them pulling you into equally drowning hugs.

Jess gave her own cheerful greeting, before linking her arm with Jo’s as they disappeared into the bustling heart of the house, like she’d always belonged. 

Meanwhile, the men took exactly three seconds to gravitate toward the living room. Bobby cracked open a beer, passing one to John, who took it with a grateful smirk. Sam and Dean flopped onto the couch, their eyes drifting toward the TV where a football game was already playing.

Dean stretched out with a satisfied sigh, sinking comfortably into the cushions, looking as if he had just pulled off the greatest heist in history—sneaking in without being assigned a single task.

That cocky grin of his was still in place when he caught your eye across the room. You lifted a brow, giving him a look that clearly said, Really?

Dean just winked at you, smug as ever, thinking he’d truly gotten away with something.

Big mistake.

“Dean,” Ellen’s voice rang out from the kitchen, cutting through the warm hum of conversation like a blade. “Be useful and set the damn table, would ya?”

Dean froze mid-smirk, the slow realisation creeping over his face like a deer caught in headlights. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“What? You thought you could just sit there looking pretty?” she snarked, one hand on her hip, an unimpressed brow arched.

Dean gaped at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

“Everything you need’s in the garage,” she added, already moving on to the next task. “Might be a little buried under Bobby’s clutter, but I think you’ll manage.”

She shot him a mockingly sweet smile before turning back to her work.

Dean groaned dramatically as he stood, glancing longingly toward the couch where John, Bobby, and Sam were already settling in, beers in hand. His gaze flickered back to you just in time to catch the way you were absolutely beaming at his suffering.

His eyes narrowed. Betrayal.

You just shrugged, biting back a grin. You should’ve known better.

With another exaggerated sigh, Dean trudged toward the garage, muttering something under his breath as he did.

Bobby, who had been watching the whole thing unfold with quiet amusement, caught your eye and shook his head with a chuckle.

“I don’t know why he thinks he’s gonna get away with it every year,” Bobby mused, taking a sip of his beer.

“Because every year, he tries,” you replied, laughter bubbling in your chest. “And every year, Ellen shuts that shit down.”

Bobby let out a warm chuckle, shaking his head again as the familiar hustle and bustle filled the house—the football game playing in the background, the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, Jo and Jess giggling as they tackled another one of Ellen’s relentless tasks, and the muffled curses coming from the garage as Dean rummaged through the mess.

It was chaotic. It was loud. But It was home.

By the time dinner was ready, the madness of the day melted into something warm and familiar as everyone gathered around the table. The scent of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and Ellen’s signature stuffing filled the air, making your stomach grumble in anticipation.

You took your usual seat beside Dean, the space between you non-existent as his leg brushed against yours under the table. Subtle, but deliberate. A quiet little reminder that he was there—always there. The warmth of it spread through you, making your chest feel a little lighter, a little fuller.

As plates were filled, glasses raised, and the room settled, John cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. He did this every year, it was a tradition of sorts.

“Before we dig in,” he started, looking around the table, “I just wanna say how damn grateful I am to be sitting here with all of you. And I couldn’t be prouder of the people in it.” His eyes flickered toward Jess, who flushed under the attention, a shy but happy smile on her face as Sam squeezed her hand.

“We’re lucky to have you, Jess. And Ellen—” he turned toward the woman who had undoubtedly done most of the work, “I don’t know how you do it, but this spread looks incredible. So, from all of us—thank you.”

Ellen scoffed but the corners of her mouth twitched, a hint of pride in her expression.

“Alright, alright,” she waved him off. “Enough talkin’. Eat before it gets cold.”

And with that, everyone dug in, passing plates, stealing bites before things even made it around the table, the warm chatter of conversation bubbling up again.

Sam talked about applying for law school in the new year, a small spark of excitement in his voice despite his usual modesty. Jess shared how she’d be going for her master’s in nursing, and the pride in Sam’s eyes was impossible to miss. 

John and Bobby fell into easy conversation about the shop, both gruffly pleased with how business had been steady, even picking up in the last few months.

Meanwhile, Jo chimed in with stories from the police academy, her excitement shining through as she recounted her latest training exercises. “They had us do a pursuit drill last week,” she said, eyes alight. “I swear, some of these guys wouldn’t catch a cold in winter.”

Ellen snorted, shaking her head with a smirk. “Good. Let ’em sweat a little.” Though her tone was gruff, the glint of pride in her eyes was unmistakable. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with showin’ ‘em up if they’re too damn slow. Maybe they’ll actually learn a thing or two from you.”

Grinning, you raised your beer in agreement. “Heck yeah!” Jo laughed, clinking the neck of her bottle against yours. 

And with that, more laughter rang through the air. A warmth settled deep in your chest; the kind that only came from being surrounded by people who felt like home.

These were your people—your family. And yet, as you took it all in, a quiet pang tugged at your heart, an unshakable thread of guilt winding itself around the joy in your chest.

You hated to let your mind wander there, but it was impossible not to. Your mom should be here. It was silly—fleeting, even—but in moments like these, it only made you realise just how much you missed her.

Before the ache could settle too deep, a familiar weight pressed against your thigh—a warm, calloused hand, grounding and steady. You looked over to find Dean already watching you, his green eyes soft, knowing. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. He just knew.

And for that, you were so incredibly grateful.

So, without hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, squeezing gently. His fingers curled around yours, solid and sure, and just like that, the hollow ache in your chest eased, even if only for a little while.

Once your stomachs were full, buttons popped open on jeans to accommodate the swell of well-fed bellies, even more so after Mary’s delectable apple pie and your added addition of the pecan upside down cake, which received high praises all around as well as the demands to make it again.

Everyone gathered in the living room, drinks in hand, ready to fully unwind as the last part of the evening commenced—the opening of gifts.

Laughter and playful banter filled the air as presents were exchanged. Mary smiled warmly as she unwrapped a beautifully scented perfume set, followed by a delicate silver necklace from Sam, who had clearly put thought into his gift. John, ever the traditionalist, gifted her a pair of elegant earrings that had her gasping and gripping his arm in surprise.

Jo, with her usual sharp eye, had gotten Bobby a brand-new cap to replace his old, withered one—the fabric of which had seen better days. Bobby grunted something about his old cap being just fine, but the way he ran his fingers over the brim of the new one gave away his appreciation.

For Ellen, you had gone all out, knowing how frustrated she’d been when her trusty old mixer finally gave out. The moment she unwrapped the sleek new one, her eyes lit up, and she threw you a look that was equal parts gratitude and mock disapproval.

"Now, why'd you go and do that, kid?" she huffed, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Then came Dean’s gift to Sam.

Sam tore through the wrapping, only to pause, his face deadpan as he held up a can of shaving foam and a razor. The room erupted into laughter - Mary shaking her head in a mix of disapproval and amusement, Jo outright cackling along with Jess and John’s booming laugh. 

"What?" Dean said, feigning innocence. "You’re a grown man now, Sammy. Figured it was about time you learned how to shave."

Sam rolled his eyes, but the fond smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He couldn’t even be mad—especially after the stunt he pulled last year, gifting Dean some weird off-brand gas station soda and a pack of vegan condoms. Their ongoing prank war of who could give the worst gift was practically tradition at this point.

Finally, the last gift of the night remained. Dean’s.

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little nervous as you reached for the wrapped package tucked under the tree. This wasn’t just some random gift—it was personal. Deeply so.

Dean took the square-shaped gift from your hands, his brows furrowing slightly at your sudden shift in demeanour. "What’s this?" he asked, assessing it’s unique shape.

"Just open it, Winchester," you teased, though there was a quiet anticipation in your voice.

Dean ripped the paper away, his movements slowing as he uncovered the unmistakable cover of Led Zeppelin II. But not just any copy. The original pressing—the very one he had lost in the house fire all those years ago.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared, fingers tracing the edges of the worn cover. The room, which had been filled with chatter seconds ago, fell silent as everyone watched the two of you with knowing smiles.

When he finally looked up at you, there was something raw in his eyes. Something unspoken, but so deeply understood between the two of you.

"How—?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

You shrugged, trying to play it off lightly. "Charlie helped me track it down. Took forever, but…it was worth it."

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw working as he blinked down at the album, running a hand over his mouth like he wasn’t sure what to say. You could tell it had touched him, and you took it as a good sign you’d done something right.

"This is…" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Damn, Singer. This is-” He breathed out, like he couldn’t quite comprehend the words. He then pulled you into a hug. From your spot on the floor, it made it a little awkward, but you melted into his embrace. 

When you pulled away, there was a look in his eye, you couldn’t quite place, but it made your heart flutter and cheeks warm. But the moment was fleeting, and just as quickly, your attention was on John as he asked to take a look at the record. 

"Man," he said with a distant grin, "this brings back some memories." His voice faded into his own nostalgia.

But Dean's focus remained on you. His chest tightened with a sharp pulse as he watched you talk, your hands moving animatedly as you explained where you’d found the record and divulged your own fond memories of it. The world around him seemed to blur, all the noise fading into the background as his eyes stayed locked on you.

You really were something else. 

His fingers twitched in his pocket, where his real gift for you sat. The important one. He’d already gotten you some of your favourite perfume and a new work bag, but this one... this one was special, and one he felt was best to give you without an audience. 

It was nearing midnight when everyone began bidding their goodnights and retreating to their rooms for the annual stay over. John and Mary took the spare room, while you’d offered Sam and Jess yours, leaving you to bunk with Jo and Dean to claim the couch.

Before turning in for the night, you stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. The winter chill bit at the skin beneath the thin material of your tights as you wandered further into the yard, your boots crunching softly against the frost-covered ground. Eventually, you perched yourself on the familiar hood of one of the old, hollowed-out shells, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself and tucking your legs up on the bumper.

Despite the cold, the sight before you brought an undeniable sense of peace. The sky stretched wide, an endless inky canvas scattered with stars, each one burning brilliantly against the dark. Growing up far from the city’s glow, nights like these had always felt like a gift—an uninterrupted glimpse at something vast and timeless. 

You’d spent countless evenings like this as a kid, staring up, dreaming about all the places you’d go, all the things you’d do. And sometimes, you liked to believe your mom was up there too, watching over you with that same twinkle.

The soft crunch of gravel behind you pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hey.”

You turned toward the deep, familiar voice, finding Dean making his way over. He was bundled in his leather jacket, but what caught your eye was the thick, dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around his neck—the one Mary had given him for Christmas. It was endearingly uncharacteristic, and the sight made you smile.

He hopped up onto the hood beside you, the old metal groaning under the added weight. Only then did you realise just how cold you were, his warmth seeping into you from his proximity. Without thinking, you shifted slightly closer.

“Knew I’d find you out here,” he murmured, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to say more—this spot held years of memories. The two of you had spent so many nights just like this, staring up at the sky until Bobby hollered for you to come inside.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that didn’t need filling. But after a moment, Dean cleared his throat, shifting slightly.

“I, uh… I got somethin’ for you.”

You turned to him, brows knitting in curiosity as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, terribly wrapped package—newspaper and duct tape, classic Dean.

Tilting your head, you took it from him, turning it over in your hands. “How come you’re giving this to me now?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice before a slow, teasing smirk curled your lips. “Is it something dirty?”

Dean let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing like that.” But then his amusement faded, replaced by a nervous energy as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… personal. Didn’t think you’d wanna open it in front of everyone.”

That made your stomach flip, and you glanced down at the package, peeling away the layers carefully. Beneath the mess of tape and newspaper was a small, unbranded white box—the kind that usually held jewellery. The weight of Dean’s gaze made you nervous, his tension almost palpable.

And then you opened it.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Nestled inside, resting on a cushion of velvet, was your mother’s locket.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. You had lost it years ago, back when you and Dean were just kids, playing in this very yard. It had devastated you, left you inconsolable for weeks until you had no choice but to let it go.

But here it was.

Dean shifted beside you; his voice softer now. “Found it a few months ago when I was helpin’ Dad and Bobby move one of the old cars. It was in rough shape, so I had it cleaned up, got a new chain put on.” His voice dipped even lower. “Figured you might wanna have it back.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as your trembling fingers lifted the locket. Slowly, you opened it, revealing the tiny, worn photograph inside—your mother’s smiling face beside your own youthful one.

“Dean…” It was barely a whisper, your voice stolen by the sheer weight of the moment.

Dean swallowed hard, his own eyes a little glassy. “Can’t believe it was still out here after all this time,” he said, trying for nonchalance, but you could hear the emotion laced beneath his words.

You clenched the locket in your fist before turning to him, overwhelmed. And then, without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, holding him tight as a sob broke free from your throat.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He wrapped you up just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you as sobs wracked your body.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice rough but gentle. “I gotcha.”

And you believed him. Because he always had.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, held together by the strength of his arms, but eventually, the storm inside you began to settle. When you finally pulled away, you let out a shaky, humourless laugh, swiping at your tear-streaked face. “God, I’m a mess.”

Dean’s lips curled into something small but fond, his eyes flicking between yours. “Yeah, well… you wear it well.”

You huffed out a breath of laughter, glancing down at the locket in your palm, the delicate chain glinting in the moonlight. It felt heavier than it should, like it carried not just memories but something deeper—something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time. And Dean… he had given it back to you.

That same warmth spread through your chest, tightening around your ribs. You swallowed thickly and looked back up at him, trying to find the words that could match what you felt.

“Really had to outdo me on the sentimental gifts, huh?” you teased, because teasing was easy. It was safer than the emotions threatening to crack you wide open.

Dean let out a deep, full laugh, one that sent a flutter through your stomach. “You know me, Singer. Can’t have you winning all the time.” He nudged your shoulder playfully, and for a second, it felt like it always had—like the easy, unspoken thing that had existed between you for years.

But tonight, it felt like something more.

You studied him in the quiet, the way the moonlight softened the sharp edges of his face, the way his green eyes held something warm, something unguarded.

You held the locket out to him. “Help me put it on?”

His expression shifted, something flickering behind his eyes before he nodded. You turned your back to him, lifting your hair off your neck, and the moment stretched between you.

His fingers brushed against your skin as he fumbled with the clasp, his touch light but lingering. You bit your lip, trying not to react, but then you felt the warmth of his breath ghost over your shoulder, and a shiver ran through you.

When you turned back, your breath caught. He hadn’t moved away. He was still close—so close you could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way his gaze flickered down to where the locket rested just above your collarbone before rising to meet yours.

His fingers reached out, barely grazing the metal before his touch lingered. “Beautiful,” he murmured. His eyes still on you.

The space between you felt smaller, charged with something neither of you dared to name. Your pulse quickened, but this time, it wasn’t from the familiar rush of lust and desire. This wasn’t about chasing a high.

This was about you and him.

And for once, neither of you seemed in a hurry.

Slowly, you leaned in. Your foreheads touched first, breaths mingling in the cold night air. His hand came up, fingertips brushing along your jaw, his touch tender and warming you from the outside in.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you meant it. 

Dean swallowed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but instead, his other hand came up, cupping your cheek. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, slow and reverent, and then finally, he closed the distance.

His lips met yours, soft at first, tentative, as if savouring the moment. You sighed into him, your fingers sliding up and around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as you let the world slip away.

Beneath you, the rusted hood of the old scrap car was cool against you, a stark contrast to the warmth of him, the steady burn of his touch. And then that familiar heat flickered to life, but this time, it didn’t crash over you in a reckless wave. It didn’t burn wild and consuming like it always had. Instead, it soldered—slow, steady, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be stoked.

Then you licked into his mouth, and Dean groaned—low and deep, the sound vibrating through you. His fingers curled at your waist, gripping tighter, and suddenly, the space between you wasn’t enough.

You shifted, pressing closer, deepening the kiss, and he met you without hesitation. His hands moved—one sliding up the curve of your back, the other bracing against the hood beside you, keeping you steady as the car groaned softly under your combined weight.

Your fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just enough to draw another sound from him—this time rougher, needier. It sent a thrill through you, and before you could stop yourself, you shifted again, knees brushing against his thighs as you tried to get closer.

Dean’s breath hitched, and then his hands were everywhere—sliding down to grip your hips beneath your coat, fingers pressing into nylon covering your thigh and warm skin beneath.

The old car beneath you creaked with the movement, but neither of you cared. Not when his mouth left yours to skim along your jaw, not when his breath was hot against your skin before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear.

You gasped, tilting your head to give him more, and he took it—his lips dragging down the column of your throat, lingering, teasing, tasting.

This wasn’t just lust.

It wasn’t rushed or reckless, fuelled by adrenaline like it had been so many other times.

This was something else entirely. Something heavier. Something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had let yourselves admit.

And maybe that should’ve terrified you.

But then Dean’s hands flexed at your waist, pulling you flush against him, and his mouth found yours again, capturing you in a kiss that left no space for second thoughts.

"God, I want you," you mumbled against his lips, your words tumbling out between kisses, desperate and unfiltered.

Dean groaned, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breaths coming hard and uneven. His eyes flickered around the scrapyard—the rusted metal beneath you, the cold night air nipping at your skin. This wasn’t ideal. He wanted you warm, comfortable, spread out beneath him with nothing between you.

And then an idea hit him.

“C’mon.” He stood, pulling you with him, and you followed eagerly, heart hammering as he led you toward the Impala. The familiar sound of his keys jingling had you biting back a grin. Of course. The house was full, and neither of you had an empty room to escape to. This was the best option.

And honestly? It felt right.

Dean opened the back door, and you glanced at him with a knowing smile. He smirked back, before capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time.

You pulled away to shove at his leather jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. Taking the hint, he shrugged it the rest of the way off and then unwrapped the scarf around his neck, while you shimmied out of your own coat. You set them aside carefully in the backseat, then slid inside, Dean following right after, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the latch clicked; he was on you again.

His hands framed your face as he kissed you with newfound hunger, the metal walls of the car closing you in, making everything feel headier, safe. His fingers trailed down your sides, gripping at the thick fabric of your sweater dress, bunching it in his fists like he wanted to rip it off you.

You arched into him, hands roaming over his chest, pushing his flannel off his shoulders. He helped you, shrugging it off in a swift motion before his hands were back on you, slipping beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers brushed against your thighs, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

Dean pulled back just enough to meet your gaze; his pupils blown wide with desire. His hands fisted the fabric at your waist, and with one slow, deliberate movement, he peeled your dress up and over your head, tossing it aside.

His breath hitched as he took you in. It was a sight that blew him away, every. Single. Time. No matter how many times you did this dance. The glowing light from the moon above softly illuminated your skin. His fingers traced up your sides, thumbs grazing the swell of your breasts before he leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

You let out a soft sigh, threading your fingers through his hair as his mouth travelled lower. He reached behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease, slipping the straps down your arms. The moment they were free, he groaned, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples before his mouth replaced them.

Heat pooled low in your stomach as he kissed and sucked at the newly exposed skin, his tongue circling, teasing, until you were arching against him, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he rasped, his breath warm against your skin. "Every damn time… you get more perfect."

Your stomach flipped at his words, and then he was kissing lower, dragging his lips down the centre of your stomach, pressing reverent kisses along the way.

He nudged you back until you were lying against the seat, your legs falling open naturally. You quickly kicked off your boots before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your tights, dragging them down slow, teasing, before slipping off your underwear along with them.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, spread out beneath him, chest rising and falling in anticipation.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shaking his head in awe, still not quite believing he could have you like this. Then he kissed his way up the inside of your thigh, his breath hot and teasing against sensitive skin, sending a fresh wave of need coursing through you.

His hands slid under your thighs, pulling you closer, settling himself between your legs. And then his mouth was on you.

A sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He groaned at the taste, gripping your thighs tighter as he did it again, this time flicking his tongue against your clit just to hear the way your breath hitched.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending pleasure sparking up your spine.

"Fuck," you breathed, your head falling back against the leather seat as he worked you over with devastating precision—slow, unhurried, savouring every little reaction.

Dean licked into you, his tongue circling your clit before sucking softly, drawing a sharp cry from you. He kept going, never rushing, never letting up, letting the pleasure build in slow, teasing waves.

Your thighs trembled as heat coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. Dean could feel it—feel the way you tensed beneath him, feel the way your grip on his hair tightened.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice low and rough, the vibrations making you whimper. He flicked his tongue just right, pressing two fingers inside you at the same time, curling them, stroking that perfect spot—

And then you were gone.

A strangled moan tore from your throat as pleasure crashed over you, waves rolling through you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Dean didn’t stop, didn’t pull away—he worked you through it, his tongue lapping up everything you had to give, drawing out every last tremor until you were nothing but a boneless, panting mess beneath him.

Finally, he pulled back, pressing one last lingering kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you with a wicked smirk, his lips glistening.

“Every time,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, “you taste even sweeter.”

You bit your lip, amusement flickering in your eyes despite the heat still coursing through your veins. But you weren’t done—not even close. Curling a single finger in a slow, teasing come hither motion, you smirked.

“Get over here, Winchester.”

His smirk widened, something dark and hungry flashing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he crawled up your body, moving with that same effortless confidence that always made your stomach flip. His gaze never left yours, heated and intent, the weight of it alone making you shiver in anticipation.

The moment he was close enough, you reached up, hand curling around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that was all heat and desperation, tongues tangling, breaths mingling, the taste of yourself still lingering on his lips. He groaned into your mouth, his hands framing your face, fingers threading into your hair as he kissed you deeper, like he never wanted to come up for air.

Sparks reignited instantly, the heat between you crackling like a live wire. Your hands moved with purpose, sliding down the hard planes of his body until they reached his belt. You made quick work of it, unbuckling it with practiced ease, fingers moving to the button of his jeans, undoing them in a swift motion.

Dean groaned, resting his forehead against yours as you worked him free, helping him slide the denim down his hips. He kicked them off the rest of the way, the fabric landing somewhere on the floor of the car, long forgotten.

Your breath hitched as your eyes dropped to him—all of him. No matter how many times you’d seen him like this, touched him like this, it never stopped stealing the air from your lungs. He was a masterpiece, all firm muscle and golden skin, every inch of him devastatingly beautiful.

Dean swallowed hard as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. His breath stuttered, a low groan slipping from his lips as his head dropped forward.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough with want.

You watched him, your stomach twisting in pleasure at the way his jaw clenched, his brows furrowing as your fingers teased along his length, exploring every ridge, every sensitive spot you knew would drive him crazy. Pride swelled in your chest as his hips twitched slightly, completely at your mercy.

His hands flexed beside your head, fingers digging into the leather as he fought to keep control. His eyes flickered open, locking onto yours, blown dark with lust.

“Fuck me, Dean,” you whispered, voice dripping with need, but there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just lust. It was longing. A raw, desperate ache to be close—to feel him in a way that went beyond just bodies colliding.

Dean swallowed hard, his breath coming rough and uneven as his hands trailed up your sides, tracing the curves of your body once more with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

He didn’t need to say anything. You knew he understood. You saw it in the way his expression softened, in the way he dipped his head, pressing his lips to your temple before shifting to settle between your thighs.

He exhaled shakily as he rocked his hips forward, dragging the thick length of his cock through the slick seam of your pussy, coating himself in your wetness. The slow glide sent a shudder through you both, your breath hitching, his jaw going tight as he let himself savour it—this anticipation, this moment.

A moan tumbled from your lips when he did it again, the head of his cock catching against your clit just enough to make your hips jerk, your fingers tightening around his biceps. Dean groaned, the deep, gravelly sound vibrating against your throat as he dropped a kiss there, his movements deliberate, teasing.

Then, finally, finally, he pushed in.

Agonisingly slow, he stretched you open, inch by inch, filling you completely, letting you feel all of him. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat at the overwhelming sensation of him sinking deep, deeper—until there was no space left between you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you, and still, you wanted more.

A soft whimper left your lips, your body arching to press closer, needing to feel every part of him. Dean cursed under his breath, dropping his forehead to yours as he bottomed out, his chest heaving, his body trembling from the effort of holding back.

“Holy… Fuck,” he stuttered, voice strained, like the words were being dragged straight from his soul. He kissed you then, slow and deep, as he began to move, his thrusts measured, drawn out—like he wanted this to last, like he was memorising every gasp, every shiver, every way your body reacted to him.

Your hands roamed over him, greedy and restless, mapping the broad expanse of his back, tracing the curve of his spine, the dip of his waist. Every inch of him was hot and solid beneath your touch, his muscles flexing with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

It was different this time. It wasn’t hurried, wasn’t frantic. It was more. The way he moved, the way he held you—it was deeper, heavier, laced with something neither of you dared to name but both felt down to your bones.

“Dean,” you breathed, your voice breaking around his name as pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly, building with every stroke.

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasped, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hands gripping your hips just a little tighter. “I got you.”

And he did. He always did.

Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, every slow, precise thrust pulling you higher, closer to that edge, until the pleasure became unbearable. You were drowning in it, in him, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure crested and crashed over you.

Dean groaned your name, his rhythm faltering as your walls clenched tight around him, dragging him down with you, pulling him under until he was right there with you, his release hitting with just as much intensity.

His arms trembled as he held himself over you, his breath warm against your skin, his body still pressed tightly to yours as the aftershocks of pleasure rolled through you both. Neither of you moved for a long moment, tangled together, limbs heavy, hearts hammering in unison.

And then, he kissed you—soft, lingering. As if he wanted to seal this moment between you, to hold onto it for as long as possible.

Because this time, it was different. 

Dean knew it deep in his bones. 

He’d finally come to the earth shattering conclusion of his admittance.

He was hopelessly, undeniably, and completely in love with you.

AN: I mean this was expected right!? But finally! Dean can admit it. Wether he has the guts to say it, is another story... more to come next week 👀

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Next Time...

Four drinks in, and you were feeling the perfect buzz—light, warm, and just uninhibited enough to let loose. You’d spent the night bouncing between your friends, sipping your drink, and genuinely enjoying yourself. Even Dean, who had been hovering around you all evening, had somehow managed to pull you onto the dance floor for a little friendly—or maybe not-so-friendly—dancing. His hands had settled on your hips, his breath warm near your ear as you moved together in a way that felt entirely too natural. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you had finally let yourself stop overthinking for once, but you’d melted into him. Your body responded to every little shift of his, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that maybe he felt it too. But the moment passed, and now here you were, walking toward the bar with Dean at your side, your skin still tingling from where his hands had rested. Then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of humour, as you were walking, someone bumped into him, severing your connection with his hand on your waist.  “Lisa?”

[kimoralov3]

click cute - 16

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your suitcase rolls behind you as you step into the air bnb, taking in your surroundings. being friends with sarah definitely had it’s perks.

“y/n, you’re here!” you hear a voice call from the top of the stairs. you remove your glasses with a smile, bracing yourself as sarah runs up and hugs you.

“sarah! oh my god, you look so good! fresh highlights?” you ask as you pull away, taking in your friend’s new look.

“of course. you know i had to look good for vacation.” she says as she does a little shoulder shimmy. you snort at that. she was really something else. “how was your flight? sorry i couldn’t go with you, i had to get here early to make sure everything was all good.”

“girl, you flew us first class. even if i did have complaints, you would not be hearing anything from me.” you say as you loop your arms together. she throws her head back in laughter, bumping her hip with yours.

“glad you enjoyed it. only the best for my girls.” she says teasingly before turning her head towards the stairs. “john b! come down here really quick!”

the sound of quick footsteps follow sarah’s call, along with the visual of a brown haired boy taking the steps two at a time. “oh hey, you must be y/n.” he says as he holds his arm out for a handshake.

“yeah, i am! it’s nice to meet the guy sarah won’t shut up about.” you say, causing sarah to playfully elbow you in the side. john b laughs at that, pulling sarah closer to him and slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“all good things, i’d hope.” he says as he presses a kiss to her head. as much as you hated to admit it in an attempt of solidarity with lex, the two of them were cute together. really cute together. 

“so, is anyone else here? or are we the first ones?” you ask as you grab hold of your suitcase once more.

“oh no, jess and jj are upstairs ‘blessing’ their room.” sarah says with barely contained laughter. you make a face of disgust, a hand coming up to your chest.

“ew, gross. please tell me my room isn’t right next to theirs?” you ask with a laugh.

sarah quickly shakes her head. “oh no, i could never do that to you. me, john b, and lex’s room is right next to theirs.” she explains. oh, thank god. you could not handle sleeping next to an overly “touchy” couple and— wait a minute.

“wait, you guys are sharing with lex? why?” you ask as you look between the two of them. god, let’s put those facial muscles to use to hide your shock at how bad of an idea this was.

“there’s only four rooms. we figured jess and jj would need their own rooms, and pope and rafe can’t share for some reason—” sarah starts.

“rafe complains about pope staying up all night to play his games, pope complains about rafe waking up at ungodly hours to do his in room workout routines or whatever.” john b intercepts as he scratches his eyebrow. there was definitely a story there. 

“so i’m rooming with pope?” you ask for clarification. judging by the look on sarah’s face, that was not quite the case. 

“no, actually. you’re uh, you’re rooming with rafe.” she says, looking anywhere but your eyes.

this was fine. it wasn’t a big deal. the two of you had made up or whatever, so you weren’t really mad at him anymore. but there was that whole thing about you possibly hearing him call you cute, so it was still awkward, as some people would say.

“that’s fine!” you say, pretending not to notice how high your voice had gotten. you clear your throat before speaking again. “so, does that mean pope is rooming with cleo and aubs?”

“oh, yeah. there really wasn’t anywhere else to put him. plus you know how aubs is, she goes to sleep pretty late anyways.” sarah says. she had a point; you had woken up to one too many 2 am text messages from aubree about any and everything that was on her mind. 

“well good luck to pope.” you say with a chuckle, ignoring that pesky feeling in the pit of your stomach. you were overreacting, really. it wouldn’t be that bad, or awkward, or weird or whatever to room with rafe.

right?

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[lisacameron99]

JJ x Routledge!Reader - Stranger (not proofed)

Warnings: angst but happy ending, aftermath of JJ getting into a fight, heartbroken reader and JJ, Kiera is bisexual

“Now you’re just a stranger I know everything about.” As you finished singing the song, your friends applauded, making you jump. “I didn’t know yall were there.” You said timidly, putting down Kie’s ukelele.

“You’re so talented!” Sarah told you, beaming. You spared a glance at JJ before pushing yourself up.

“Yeah, well, I don’t sing or play often anymore.”

You left your friends out by the fire pit and made your way inside the chateau. You flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” John B knocked on the door. You didn’t acknowledge him. You knew what he was going to say and you knew it would piss you off. “We miss you.”

Now that, you really weren’t expecting.

“Kie told me that if J and ever got together and broke up, not to keep coming around. No progue on progue macking.”

“So that means you can’t hang out with the rest of us?”

“It’s easier if I don’t see him.”

“You’re so stupid.” John B laughed at me. “You think you can just worn your way into their lives, make your presence more in my life, and just leave? You’re so full of shit.”

“Excuse me?” You demanded, put off by your brother’s opinion.

“You matter, dumbass.” He exploded. “You matter to all of us, and you not being around has a toll on all of us. So you need to figure out how the fuck go put this behind you and get back to the group.”

After John B left, you found yourself staring at a photo of you and JJ. It was one of the few that you had. You were happy, having just gotten back from being stuck on the island. It was from a kegger you and JB had put on. You had JJ’s hat on and one of his old flannels and a random tank top and shorts. JJ was wearing his usual cut of tank top and a pair of cargo shorts. You both were holding red solo cups, yours in the air, JJ’s in his hand. JJ had his free hand wrapped around you, hugging you tightly to his side. You had been talking aimlessly about God knows what, but you both had wide smiles on your face and hadn’t noticed Pope snap the photo.

“That one’s a good one.” Pope said, standing next to the bed where you sat holding the photo tightly. You stayed silent. “That night was good, one of the last good nights before…” he trailed off. Before JJ and I broke up.

“What’s up,” you said softly, clearing your voice.

“Well, I need help running errands. You in? Fifty bucks for the day.” You couldn’t say no to that type of cash, and Pope knew it.

“Yeah, let me change okay?” Pope left and you quickly changed into a ratty old T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts before heading out to go with Pope.

“You could tell him you still love him.”

“Pope…”

“Oh don’t pull that bullshit with me, Y/N.” He said from his car. “You still do, and that whole thing with Kiera is done now. She’s with Alison anyways.”

“It’s hard to believe he even wants to be around me.” You mumbled, watching the ocean go by.

“Well, he does.” It was silent after that. You and Pope made your deliveries and went back to the chateau.

“It feels like he’s just a stranger I know everything about.”

When you went in, you noticed JJ leaning against the counter, cleaning his hand.

“JJ, what the hell, man?” Pope asked, looking him over.

“It’s nothing.” He mumbled, still fuming.

Oh, but it was something. Whether he was fighting with Topper or Rafe, having his dad beat the shit out of him, or fighting some other Kook, it was always something.

“You got this?” Pope whispered. “I need to go pick Cleo up.”

You nodded hesitantly. And with that, Pope left.

You walked into the bathroom, going straight for the first aid kit. “J, get in here.” You demanded from the bathroom. When you didn’t hear JJ coming, you stormed into the living room. “I wasn’t joking, get your ass in here.” You noticed his eye was split and sighed.

“You don’t need to do this. I can talk care of myself.” He snapped, harsher than you knew he intended.

“Well, I’m going to do this so get in here before it gets infected.”

“Why?” He demanded, setting down the towel he was using to clean his hand.

“Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?” You snapped, losing your cool.

“I’m difficult? Have you met yourself?” JJ stared at you dead in the face. He was trying to get a rise out of you. You knew this.

“I have, for 19 years JJ. And I know I am; but I’m trying to help you right now, so please let me know —” he stalked over to you and you backed against the wall. “What are you doing?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I’m trying to stay calm,” he heaved out a breath and you felt your core throb. You hadn’t been this close to each other in weeks.

“I,” you breathed.

“Tell me it’s not too late,” JJ whispered and this time, it was your heart that throbbed.

“You know it’s not.” You croaked out.

“Good.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Good.”

You stayed like that for at least ten minutes, heads pressed against each other and just breathing.

You broke the silence. “Can I clean you up now?” You asked.

JJ laughed, letting you lead him into the bathroom.

After cleaning up his eye and hand, you stayed seated on the counter.

JJ moved a piece of hair behind your ear and rubbed back and forth across your cheek. Your hand rested on top of his. Your leg wrapped against his and you pulled him to you. His breath fanned your face and you felt yourself melt into him.

When his mouth finally landed on yours, the groan you both let out was more than either of you realized. JJ pulled you closer so your fronts were together. You panted when he pulled away, but you pulled him back to you joining your mouths again. His tongue worked its way into your mouth, and his hand tightened around the back of your neck. The whimper you let out was pathetic, but so necessary.

When you pulled back, you were panting hard.

“So, safe to say we still got it?” JJ asked, and you smacked his shoulder before he dragged your mouth back to his.

[beardisable]

NO WAY HOMESTUCK UPD8

ok i went thru 8r8k frame by frame on my second watch and made quite a lot of notes and i thought id post them bc its fun !

GOD TAVVY IS SO COOL… im so glad a tavros gets to be so cool holy shit, his name lives on 💪

sollux with the food delivery person 😭 something something essential workers in the middle of an apocalypse

god this song fucks so hard, ashamed i dont immediately recognize it from my teen years of only listening to hs soundtracks on repeat (ITS AGGRIEVOCATION FROM VOL 10. ROSE BANGER)

ok hold up. meenah with the red miles? OH nvm its her life powers… anti-red miles… infrared miles

THE ANCESTOR PAINTINGS RRHHHAAAGHHHHHHHHH

dissapointed tpose teenvriska <3

THE YIFFY AND KANAYA STAREDOWN… i LOVE the tavvy kick(insane) but i also wish we saw kanaya chainsaw a missile in half

UNCLE DAVE- 😭 wait does his captcha card say FA99YUNC. ok i think its AA99YUNC but PFFFFF (discord confirmed its 4A99YUNC. continues to be hilarious)

karkat nooo 😭 im glad he hasnt fallen into the trap of masc adulthood

I NEED TO TUCK THEM INTO BED OUGH THEYRE SO CUUTEEEEEE I LOVE HOMESTUCK ART

that hyperrealistic sollux is killing meeeee 😭

something. something about jade falling down and jakes fist closing and lighting up and aufhghgh SO GOOD I NEED TO RUN AROUND MY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CIRCLES BUT ITS SNOW

ok now i actually get to see wtf was up with jakes jesus moment

THE CRACKED GLASSSESSSSSSSS AND HER RISING UP IN THE FUCKING RESURRECTION RAINBOWWWW oh my god it looks so gorgeous

JADE CRACKING NECKSSSSS wtf is she even- is she like bringing their skulls outside of their heads and THEN cracking their necks? like theres an extra step here that i appreciate for the flavour girl

these 2 lovers on the battlefield having the shortest enemies to lovers that is possible in homestuck since usually it takes between 3 to billions of years for anyone else

wait i literally didnt even see that she pressed this.

christ the yiffy/fuchsia/carapacian/drone robot thing is so fucking cool i want to cosplay that IMMEDIATELYYYYYYY AAHHH

WHY IS VRISKA BONKING AND SHOOTING HER KIDSELF- i dont remeber what happened just before this- (got this explained and idk why i was suprised, she hates herself)

KARKATS LITTLE FUCKING. CRAB ROBOT!??!?!?! IM SLACK JAWED

holy shit ant man is here

little guys

seeing the contrast between the literal massive guy and fucking. that one guy that was a god i think? crying over his food delivery in the middle of a battlefield and saying um nope, is so funny

jake fucking. hope torch. (like from deadpool & wolverine)

OH. of course she finished on year 8. i should have seen that coming tbh

ohhhh ok she stole johns phone lmao-

NO BUT. the fact that teen vriska is so scared of her reaction and immediately recoils and puts her hands up in defence bc it seems vriska HAS been like. fucking with her trying to kill her and hurt her. so shes not at all expecting vriska to actually hug her and then immediately melts into her embrace…

i need a fucking minute oh my god 🥹 the vrisual novel and this has thoroughly made me a vriska lover

RUNNING THRU ALL THE PANELSSSS AAAAAAAGHHHHHHH SO GOOD

chewing on the hand mirror

VRISKA NEW OUTFIT LOOKS SO GOOOODDDD FUCK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF the 8 into infinity… and beyond!! hehe

among us

OBSESSED WITH THE VRISKA DESIGN AAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oughghghghgh the permanent crescent moon but then vriska in front of it to Light up the whole thing- SCREAMINGGG

SHE BURNED AN INFINITY INTO THE GROUND IN HER FLYING RAMPAGE omfg

i just really enjoy the little pixellated jane

YEAH.

okay thats it im. wow. wow. WOW!!!!

GOOD NIGHT

[i-love-ptv]

Family Reunion Whenever I’m Home ᓚᘏᗢ

Pairing: Boyfriend!JJ Maybank x Witch!Girlfriend!Reader

Based on the prompt: “Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” “What? I need to heat up the potion.” “In the microwave?” (another pinterest prompt, ik guys..)

Wc: 1,661

Fluff—Thanksgiving diner!! JJ gets a boner but no smut or anything like that!

An: First off, HI GUYS!!! thought i’d put this out for yall cause i think it’s cute, better than thanksgiving (i hate thanksgiving sorry) so ya!!

also!!!!! reader is written to kind-of be like a fairytail witch? i’m not super like, educated on witchcraft n all that jazz, so i tried to make sure it wouldn’t offend anyone in any way!! (lmk if there’s any problems i love you all)

Feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!! xoxo

“JJ, they’re almost here! Hurry up and set the table!” You giggle as JJ pressed another kiss to the crook of your neck.

“‘S fine…I’m sure they’ll be willin’ to help anyways.” JJ murmurs against your cold skin.

November 28th; Thanksgiving. The day where you get together with your friends and family, and spend the day together sharing thanks, food, and laughs.

Hence why the pogues, alongside the soon-to-be born baby pogue, are coming over to your and JJ’s shared home for dinner.

You’ve been cooking all day, finishing up what you didn’t yesterday, with no help from JJ of course.

It’s not like he didn’t offer, he definitely tried to take ahold of your cooking spoon.

…Which resulted in a swat sent to his hand.

You “banished” —JJ’s words, not yours, to clean the house while you cooked. It’s very apparent that JJ can’t cook to save his life, you also can’t rely on him to get a real meal in his system, or anything healthy.

You still think about the time where he ate moldy bread to this very day.

Thankfully, the rest of the pogues agreed to bring food as well, so you didn’t have to make much; the only problem is, they’re arriving soon and for some reason, the table is still not set.

Your boyfriend's hands continue to wander down your body, which doesn’t help your growing irritation. Not necessarily at him, but at the lack of acknowledgement to your pleas.

“Jackson,” You speak lowly, immediately catching JJ’s attention. You’re using that voice that’ll make him do anything you please in a heartbeat. He’s obsessed with the fact that his normally soft-spoken girl can straighten him out.

You continue, “Can you set the table for me, baby?” JJ breaks away, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course…” He mutters before turning around to the table. You start to feel bad, but all your feelings of guilt disappear once you notice the pink tint on his cheeks and the ever-growing boner he’s sporting.

“God, Jay. I mean, what the hell?”

The golden-haired boy puts his hands up as his mouth practically hits the floor.

“Well, what do you expect?! My super hot, witch girlfriend gets all stern with me, and-and you expect me not to feel some ‘typa way?!” JJ exclaims.

You roll your eyes at his antics, but your attention is drawn elsewhere when you notice your cat lurking on the counter.

“Down! Get down, Lottie!” You half-heartedly yelp, making a ‘shoo’ motion towards her; her wide eyes merely bore back at you.

You grab her then hear your doorbell ring, which makes the three of you jump, Lottie ends up wandering away.

“Go fix that, Jay.” You’re moving quickly, mainly to distract yourself from looking at the boy you’ve grown to love. You know that one glance will start something that neither of you are able to finish.

JJ hobbles off to your shared bathroom, murmuring curse words under his breath as you reach the door.

When it opens, Sarah pushes her way through first—well, her bump does.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve missed you so much!” She yells, making you wince, but your smile never leaves your lips. It’s an awkward hug for sure, but neither of you mind.

John B comes through next, sheepishly. He lets out a “sorry about her” while he adjusts the pan in his hands.

“Uh, where do you want me to put this?” John B asks, his eyes lingering on the half-set table.

You purse your lips, taking one between your teeth, “On the counter is fine for now.”

“—Please don’t drop it…” “I’m not going to drop it!” You hear shouts coming from the front lawn. You wobble your way over with Sarah still latched onto you when you see Cleo and Pope walking towards you.

Pope’s carrying what you assume is mac and cheese, and Cleo holds a ham, which is rather big in her hands.

They greet you both warmly, to which you reply timidly. It’s not that you had any problem with them, quite the opposite! But the only person to really get you out of your shell was JJ. Kie claims that it’s probably because he was your “first love” since the beginning.

Speaking of her, Kiara, alongside her girlfriend Monica, is walking up to your door with a dazzling grin. Everyone exchanges kind words; the boys offer to set the table, making you accept their act of service almost immediately.

“Mmm, it smells so good Bats!” Sarah groans, wafting the air, Kiara agrees with her.

“Where’s rude boy?” Cleo asks with a smirk. But before you could respond, JJ comes out of the bedroom with his arms stretched out wide.

“Right here, howdy y’all!” JJ nearly throws himself at the pogues, welcoming them all in a group hug.

“Hey, Jay?”

“Yeah B?” JJ turns to the brunette.

“Your fly’s down, bud.” John B snickers, then pats JJ on the back, leaving JJ fumbling with his pants with his ears burning red.

Boisterous laughter rings throughout the halls of the cluttered but cozy home; the table’s been set, the food is ready, and everyone’s in place to eat.

Pope’s rambling on about god knows what as of right now, so you take the opportunity to head to the kitchen undetected.

JJ can hardly hear over the [somewhat] playful screaming match between John B and Kiara. But faintly, he can hear the sound of bottles and pots clanging about in the kitchen.

He gets up from his seat, and JJ’s nearly tip-toeing over. He hears a few mumbled curse words followed by a few clicks and beeps.

JJ sees you: his sweet, gentle, oblivious, spell-casting lover. —And soon to be wife. Your frame blocks his view of what you’re standing in front of, but JJ can easily identify the low humming coming from the microwave.

You take a step back, making JJ take one forward towards you. Your hands are cupped together but remain low in front of you, and he can just barely make out the sight of you looking fondly into the lit up glass.

JJ looks over your shoulder, and his charming smile fades as he sees the glass bottle filled with a liquid he can’t even distinguish spinning slowly in circles.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” JJ whisper-shouts.

You jump at the unexpected hands placed on your shoulder, letting out a gasp as you turn around.

You blink at him all doe-like, and JJ feels his resolve slipping all ready. “What? I need to heat up the potion.”

“In the microwave? Really, baby?” JJ tilts his head at you, it reminds you of a puppy-dog. His warm hands continue to rub up and down on your sleeve-covered arms.

“…Well, we haven’t been able to fully unpack all of my stuff, remember? You’ve been busy with work this week.” Your confusion never leaves your face. That’s when JJ remembers.

JJ and you have finally moved in together; meaning no more bed hopping between the chateau and your parents’ house. Everything’s been unpacked and placed carefully throughout the small house, except for your cauldron; alongside your books, bowls, daggers, and pretty much all of your stuff unfortunately.

JJ’s guilt is crawling up his throat; you had reassured him several times that you didn’t mind, and it wasn’t a pressing matter. But when you’re looking at him so sweetly, and your obliviousness to the situation rings deep, JJ’s heart can’t help but feel a pang.

You tear your eyes away from the boy once you hear the ‘beep, beep, beep’ from the rickety appliance.

You grab the bottle out of the microwave, and hold it so that it’s leveled with JJ’s eyes. Now that he can get a good look at it, JJ takes in its appearance. The liquid is somewhat of a sage green color (JJ barely even knows what that is), and it has some floating bits inside, but it doesn’t look nearly as gnarly as some of the other things you’ve concocted.

“Do ya think Sarah would drink this if I asked her to? It’s an elixir made to help and protect her and the baby. I’m not very worried about John B.” JJ swears he’s listening, honestly! He is! But at the same time, he’s really only focusing on the cute scrunch your face is making and your curious eyes.

You look at him awaiting an answer, “Mmm, how about we wait a little bit before we start giving Sarah all your fancy potions, huh cupcake?”

JJ’s flashing that grin at you that makes you weak in the knees, and all you can do is pout at him.

“Awee..Okay,” you drag out, your voice remains hushed.

JJ takes your hand in his, and you let him guide you to the table, where you’re met with boasting and a few questions directed from John B of course.

JJ pulls your chair out for you, and then sits himself right beside you, even going as far as to scoot his wooden chair even closer to yours. You both are sitting so close that your thighs are smushed together, and you find yourself craving it; craving his warmth.

“So were you guys boning in there or what?” There's a chorus of “John B!”’s and “oh my god”’s let out amongst the entire group. You cover your face and cower into JJ’s side.

“Alright, shut up man!” JJ yells, but you know there’s no form of malice in it.

You let out a giggle once you uncover your eyes and see Kiara and John B going back and forth once more; Pope and Cleo also jumping in from time to time. JJ looks down at you: leaning on him, with a bright smile on your face, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

This was his family, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.