#and i love what we do see but i wish so much there has been another montage of emails after too

[mangooes]

Far away from home, closest to the heart

The Onychinus estate was in crisis.

Not because of a rival organisation attack. Not because of a failed deal. No—this was far, far worse.

(Name) was out of town.

And Sylus Qinche was suffering.

The once-playful criminal lord mafia boss had transformed into a short-tempered, brooding nightmare.

He already had a reputation for being intimidating, but when (Name) isn’t around? It’s ten times worse. Deals that would normally be settled with his usual playful strict charm are now met with cold, cutting words that leave his business partners second-guessing their entire lives.

Meetings that usually ended with his amused smirks now concluded with threats sharp enough to make seasoned criminals sweat. Paperwork that normally sat untouched for days was suddenly everyone’s problem—because if he was miserable, so was everyone else.

Luke and Kieran, Sylus’s most trusted men, were struggling.

Kieran threw himself onto the couch in their shared office, groaning. “Boss has lost it. He just scared a man into signing a deal without reading it.”

Luke, who had been stress-drinking his fourth cup of coffee, nodded grimly. “I saw. The guy didn’t even hesitate.”

“We need a plan.”

Luke sighed. “We just have to survive until the Missus comes back.”

Kieran ran a hand down his face. “God, I love her.”

Meanwhile, in the boardroom, Sylus leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes gleaming with unfiltered irritation as one of his business partners nervously stammered through a proposal.

He exhaled sharply. “Do you have a point? Or are you wasting my time?”

The man flinched. Trembling under pressure.

Normally, Onychinus's boss is smooth and calculating, but now? His patience is gone. Someone tries to haggle too much? He leans forward, voice deadly calm: “You must have a death wish.”

Some lower-tier business associates genuinely think he’s on the verge of a major war because he’s so on edge. Little do they know, he just misses his wife.

Outside the boardroom, Luke and Kieran exchanged looks, already calculating the outcomes of the said meeting.

He’s hopeless, Luke thought. Completely, utterly hopeless.

Luke and Kieran, usually the chaotic duo, become very cautious when the missus is away. They love their boss, but when he’s in a Sab-starved mood? Yeah, they’re not about to die early.

Their usual banter is nonexistent. They speak in careful, measured tones, making sure not to set him off. They strategically find ways to be busy elsewhere, lest they face the wrath of their brooding, love-starved boss.

Each and every day that the wife of Sylus Qinche was gone from his reach, becomes a stepping stone towards doomsday.

Kieran: “Boss, we got intel on the shipment.”

Sylus, barely looking up: “Does it tell me when my wife is coming back?”

Luke, muttering: “We’re so screwed.”

They love her. Not just because she’s fun, but because she’s the only one who keeps their boss from turning into a nightmare. They count down the hours until she’s back.

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

The moment (Name) stepped foot into the estate, the change was instant.

Sylus, who had been a nightmare for days, practically appeared in front of her, his arms wrapping around her waist in a crushing embrace.

One moment he’s terrifying, the next he’s smirking, arms open, greeting her with a sickeningly sweet,

"Kitten," he murmured against her ear, voice filled with desperate relief. "You're finally home."

She knows what happens when she’s away. She sees the exhausted, relieved faces of the staff. She feels how tightly Sylus holds her when he embraces her. And, of course, she milks it.

(Name) laughs, as she pats her husband's head. "Miss me that much, Sysy?"

He pulled back just enough to look at her, crimson eyes dark with something deep. “I was dying, sweetie.”

Behind them, Luke and Kieran—who had been suffering—exchanged a look of pure disgusted relief.

“She’s back,” Kieran whispered, almost emotional.

Luke wiped an imaginary tear. “We’re saved.”

As Sylus buried his face in his beloved’s neck, murmuring sweet nothings, the entire estate seemed to breathe again.

And just like that, the Onychinus estate returns to peace.

I need to start writting lovesick sylus again, MAGNUM OPUS CARD WAS THE BEST EXPIRIENCE EVER THANK YOU INFOLD I LOVE YOU

[alchemistc]

kiss me on the mouth, love me like a sailor

"Can we talk?"

He feels like every fucking part of his body is on fire. Like if he takes a deep breath and blows it out his bones will shake themselves loose and disintegrate, leave him a pile of skin and muscle oozing on the porch and just over the threshold where he currently has an arm banded across the frame. His elbow digs in and he wonders if the last thing he'll ever do is leave a Tommy sized imprint when the lightning strike turns him to ash on the doorstep.

Evan takes a deep breath.

Waves him in.

This is nothing like the last time he was here.

He's not sure what he'd expected before - for sex to fix things, for them to go back to the flirty innocence of fresh-blush romance even though six months is long enough to start nailing down what the hell you want out of a relationship. He's loved before. Lost, before, plenty of times. Sometimes his own fault, sometimes theirs.

Tommy has a bad habit of playing fast and loose with the people he orbits, a satellite that flies too close and then gets flung away for the trouble. Flinging himself away, usually. And what a hell of a job he's done at it.

"Uh, what - what are you doing here?" Evan asks, and Tommy shoots him a wry smile. Shakes his head, because there's a quip on the tip of his tongue that could completely derail his entire purpose in showing up here.

The purpose being to crack open his chest and see if Evan's interested in pressing his fingers to the steady, if currently overworked beat of his heart.

"Saw you on the news," he tells Evan, and takes a deep breath. He's unpacked, decorated. It's weird to see this place in the daylight, laid out with furniture, pictures on the walls, soft touches of decorative charm making themselves known. Lighter than Eddie's touch, more whimsical. Gayer, his brain supplies, and he shuts down the stereotype in his own mind and tries not to judge himself too harshly for it. "I wanted to..." He'd practiced this shit. In a mirror, harsh overhead light showing him all his flaws, trying desperately to figure out how to avoid that crook in his jaw, the pained dimple, before remembering that the whole point was to lay himself bare and let the chips fall where they may.

"I... I was gonna call," Evan says, and Tommy's eyes shift up to him from their perusal of the filmy curtains.

"Why didn't you?"

It's Evan's turn to purse his lips, and he's never been as good at hiding shit as Tommy, or maybe he's just never bothered to try. Hiding isn't his default setting.

"I don't know," he says, and he does this thing - this adorable, frustrating thing - shoulder tipped inwards, neck bent and bright eyes looking up through his lashes, and Tommy wants. Wants this all to be done, and over with, wants to just know whether or not this is going to mean anything in five minutes, an hour, a day. The last time he'd pictured a life with someone he'd been so far underground that radar wouldn't have recovered him. Six months is barely anything to go on, he'd had years with Abby before he'd even asked and -

He reminds himself this isn't all or nothing. He just has to - to talk about it, and not make any stupid fucking jokes or deflect how he's actually feeling. Lay it all out there and brace for impact.

He wishes he was drunk. Drunk drivers make it work - loose limbed and malleable, nine times out of ten they walk away from deadly accidents, and maybe with looser lips he wouldn't have to brace as much.

"I just... Didn't."

Which is fair. Tommy'd implied essentially the same thing the last time they'd managed five minutes of conversation without trying to maul each other's faces off. Or hurt each other in new and horrible ways.

That part was always easier. God, they'd fallen into bed so often and in so many fun new ways that Tommy had spent the first month with a semi any time he even thought about Evan. Even that first time there hadn't been a hesitant bone in his body.

But the other parts - they'd been sweet, with each other. Half a dozen inside jokes before Tommy took him on an actual third date, a constant stream of texts that Tommy had participated in just as readily as Evan. He was a brat, unruly and half-insane and Tommy had eaten it up, played into it, encouraged just as much as he tried to temper it. And it'd been nice, to have someone who let him take care of them.

Those parts had been good too. Evan, who always knew when not to push, Evan who grinned up at him around a mouthful of cock, Evan who was greedy with Tommy's time and didn't apologize for it.

"How are you?" Tommy asks, after a beat too long, because he'd heard enough to know that Evan had been without the rest of his team through that whole ordeal and he knows, he knows how much that has to have fucked with his head.

"Is that why you're here? You wanna know how I'm doing?"

"I always want to know that," Tommy admits, and swallows around the panic of honesty. "Not why I'm here, though. Not really."

Evan's eyes narrow. "Do you have a shift, later?" The tone is all brat, pointed, maybe a little annoyed. Not veering into pissed, yet, but maybe they'll get there.

Tommy breathes, and it hitches in his chest. Fuck. Jesus. He can do this. "No," he admits, and Evan nods. Points to the couch.

"Sit. I'm - I want a beer, do you...?" The vague gesture towards his kitchen is the end of that question.

"Just the one."

Evan disappears around a corner. Tommy's not a lightweight, by any means, but he is the kind of person who follows all the outdated recommendations regarding drinking and driving - a single beer leaves him stuck here for a good forty-five minutes.

Shit.

Fuck.

Evan knows this about him. Has teased him about it a few times, laughing because he'd only ever served people in resorts and they'd always been a little more lax about what constituted an over-serve, but he'd still memorized the card that gave BMI + time allowed for a given amount of alcohol.

At least they're both aware this is gonna be a rough conversation.

He hopes it'll be a good one, eventually.

Evan startles him by leaping the couch and nearly crash-landing into Tommy's side, two bottles clutched between beefy fingers that clink against each other as Evan readjusts. Close. Closer than Tommy had expected when there's a perfectly good chair right there.

The starter boyfriend thing had always come with Evan's knowledge that he could be a little less careful, do a little more roughhousing than he was likely used to from a partner. Tommy had leaned into it because most of the men in his orbit trended smaller, slighter, and it'd been a novelty to get shoved around just the way he liked by someone who could possibly overpower him, if it came down to it.

That night, Evan had been desperate, needy, and not afraid to use his body to get exactly what he wanted.

And Tommy had let him, like always, without ever telling him why.

When Evan hands him one of the bottles he shifts his weight just enough to wedge his knee into the side of Tommy's thigh, persistent pressure and an unnerving amount of eye contact and a curious tilt to his head.

Tommy isn't fucking ready.

"So. Talk," Evan says, and tips the bottle against his lips, neck stretching, eyes careful, his body language so at odds with the clipped tone of his voice that Tommy immediately has to fight the urge to bolt.

His thigh twitches under Evan's knee and Evan looks at Tommy like he knows exactly what's on his mind.

Tommy swallows back a mouthful of spit, takes a swig.

And he starts talking.

[littlest-w01f]

Blessing

Rhysand x Reader

For @starfallweek [hosted by: @azsazz and @writingsbychlo]

Starfall Week 2025 Masterlist

Day 1 - We all know that the stars that shoot across the sky on Starfall are vibrant and varieties of colour, what if each colour represents something bigger?

Summary: Your rare ability to see spirits has been something that spooked you out for as long as you can recall, on the night that they travel across the sky, it doesn't seem too scary.

Cw: Fluffly af

The night was dark, right before the stars showered, you stood awaiting for the spectacle, it was something special, even folk from other courts wished they could witness what you were about to, standing with your mate, Rhysand, over a balcony of the House of Winds, you waited holding your breath.

With the anticipation building, you both held each other's hands tightly as the sky began to darken even more, the moon doing nothing to lighten it. The cool breeze rustled through your hair, carrying with it the scents of Night Court, your new home, the salt of the Sidra, the freshness of Nightblooms, and the faint hint of magic that permeated everything here.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your heart pounded against your chest, the excitement nearly unbearable. But then, just when you thought you couldn't wait another second, the first star fell from the sky.

A gasp escaped your lips as you watched the shooting star streak across the sky, its trail of light burning brightly against the backdrop of the night. You squeezed Rhysand's hand, your excitement palpable, before turning to him with a smile.

Your eyes met his, filled with an equal mix of awe and happiness. "It's all so bright now," You said, almost giddy with excitement.

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Rhysand returned your gaze, his own eyes reflecting the starlight and the warmth of his affection. "Yes, love, it is indeed beautiful. And it's only the beginning." His voice was low, laced with magic, making the words sound like he was making a vow. But he wasn't even looking at the sky, his eyes were all for you.

Each star brought a gasp from you, your joy and wonder contagious, even the folk that had seen this multiple times seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Your eyes turned misty, because no one saw what you did, the stars weren't just stardust or starlight, they were people. People who came down to dance with the citizens, mothers and fathers, children taken too soon, lovers lost to war, you could feel them, returning to their people, to their loved ones, each star a different colour, each special, while they could not see.

Rhysand held you close, concern written over his face, "Are you scared, darling?" He knew you saw more, had since you had lost your parents, unlocking a power not many others had in your grief.

"No..." You shook your head, smile crinkling your eyes through a sheet of tears, "It's so beautiful." Feeling the warmth of Rhysand's embrace, you lean into him, your body trembling slightly from the overwhelming beauty of Starfall.

"It's breathtaking, isn't it?" His voice rumbles softly against your ear, the vibrations adding to the magical atmosphere. "I'm glad we get to share this moment together."

Where your hands were joined, two ghostly hands joined yours, you looked up and saw two females, one elder and the other barely an adult, you looked into their eyes, the shade of brown, the wings they supported and you knew who they were. "Rhys... I think your mom and sister are here..." You said, barely a whisper.

"My...?" At the mention of his mother and sister, a look of surprise crossed Rhysand's face, quickly replaced with a sense of reverence. He turned to look where you were looking, his expression softening. "Are they really there?"

"Tell my son we are always there, for him and for you." His mother smiled at you, his sister taking a seat upon his shoulders, though he couldn't feel her pulling his hair.

"Fly Rhysie! Fly!" She pulled again, causing you to giggle.

You looked at your mate, "Your sister's on your shoulders, she wants you to fly."

Rhysand chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Well, it seems someone is feeling adventurous again." He winked playfully at you before turning his attention to the sky above, his wings grew from his back as he took flight, he was sure he could hear his sister giggle and latch onto him as he did loops in the sky.

"I'm glad you're here, dear." You turn your attention back to his mother at her sweet voice, "You bring out the best in him, I've never seen him smile as wide as he does with you."

You looked at her ghostly figure curiously, "Have you been watching us? I've charmed you already, huh, does that mean I don't have to work for your approval...? " You trailed on, unsure what to call her.

"Please, call me Ma, my son's mate is nothing if not like my family." She smiled stepping closer to you, covering your back with her wing, a show of bonding, "And you've had my blessing since the moment my son laid his eyes on you. You don't have to work for anything."

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86}

{Rhysand Taglist- @yeonalie}

[bwobgames]

It’s 10:50 pm

“Hey, how did it go. Are you alright with the kid or do we need to sleep with one eye open?”

“We’re good now”

“Although now I owe Sebastián a favour”

“Huh? Was he there?”

“Ah, well, he cleared some of my points”

“Man, perhaps I really should hire you as my social situation interpreter”

“Oh baby, for you it’s all free”

“You’re insufferable”

“Eepy time, then? Two Mimir? Did you brush your teeth on the way? I’m already done with my skincare routine”

“Heehoo”

“Yeah…”

He puts on his pyjama and sits for a little while.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… been thinking”

“About your dad again?”

“About the house.”

“Did you… feel something?”

“No but, what if this is, let’s say, some kind of evolution?”

“A sneakier house?”

“Maybe.”

“Remember when we analysed the doctor’s investigations? The feeling we proposed it might be?”

“Grief.”

“I fear that. If we or our friends or the other passengers or by accident…!”

“If someone breaks the current purpose, could we…?”

“Could someone accidentally give it a new one with their grief?”

“Are you thinking of someone specifically? Nina, maybe?”

“Ah, well, this thing is hosting a ton of people so, possibilities are not zero”

“Oliver. Do you think you…?”

“No.”

“No. I have nothing to grieve for. It’s been plenty of time already.”

“It’s not even been a month”

“I know. But by any means, I shouldn’t be grieving”

“Grandma lived a long and fulfilling life. She had her chickens. She had her family. She had just enough to be happy.”

“She never had to worry about the city life, content with the wonders of the south”

“Everyone got to see her at the hospital. And she died in her sleep. The most peaceful way to go”

“You even got to meet her. To talk to her. To know her. And she liked you”

“She liked you enough to ask to come by next year...”

“Oliver…”

“And she would’ve hated for us to be sad. She would’ve wanted us to throw a party instead of a gloomy funeral. To remember her as she wanted to.”

“By all means, I have no reason to be sad.”

“…But then why it still hurts so much…?”

The pressure in his chest, silently present since that day, grew tenfold.

He felt his as if his heart was painfully pumping tears out of his eyes.

It hurt. Even deeper than his chest. His heart. His soul.

For a second, he feared getting completely engulfed on it.

Until

A heart next to his, separated by a pair of ribcages.

“It that happens. I’ll fix it”

“I’ll buy this whole train if necessary. I’ll live in it. I’ll change it.”

“Grieve as much as you need. I’ll take care of the rest”

“So, don’t bottle this up any longer, okay?”

He thought he couldn’t cry any harder. He was wrong.

Grasping into Ángel, as if trying to completely unite their hearts, he let himself feel.

He misses her. He misses her. He can’t visit anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to the animals. He wishes he did more.

But the pain doesn’t eat him whole. There is a warmth to it.

A warmth embracing him, shielding him, applying a new pressure. A welcome one.

When he looked at that sunrise, he imagined a bright future. A perfect future.

One where Mozilla didn’t get sick. One where he wasn’t afraid of heights. One where he didn’t have nightmares.

One where everyone he loves lives forever.

Accepting reality used to be easier. When he wasn’t fragmented.

When he wasn’t haunting any buildings.

He should’ve spent more time with her.

He should’ve known, more than anyone, the importance of time.

He feels a kiss on his temple

“We’ll visit her, yeah? Every year. We’ll bring the prettiest flowers”

“She gave me her lemon pie recipe. I know I’m not the best, but”

“I’ll do everything to make it perfect”

This is the reality he lives in. And it’s the best it has ever gotten.

His pain might never pass. Part of him doesn’t want it to.

But it will always be cushioned around strong arms.

Accompanied by another beating heart, two ribcages away.

One day the pressure will be lighter, accompanied by joyful nostalgia. That day is clearly not today.

But he will look at the sunshine once more. Even if it’s cloudy.

He can be brave.

Because he knows that there will be times where he doesn’t have to.

His tears are not yet done with him, so he stays.

Ángel gently sways him side to side. It makes him sleepy.

Who could’ve thought that a busy day travelling and emotional turmoil would make him tired?

He closes his eyes and dozes off.

It’s 11 pm

<PREV START NEXT>

[zepskies]

Omg yay!! @tofics Welcome back, friend!! ❤️❤️ I'm so glad you're tuning into this one because you'll see some Smoke Eater type stuff in this mini series too - with the added fun of a plus-sized reader. 😘

Okay, first of all - love love loooveeee @redhoodieone for requesting this and @zepskies for bringing it to life. Firefighter!Dean just does things to me. And yes, Alex, it's all your fault. (Thank you!) And now the reader is an ELEMENTARY TEACHER? ARE YOU KIDDING ME! That only happens to be what I'm studying! It's like this trope was written for me 😭

Omg that's right!! I love that you can relate to this story on multiple levels, and the reader being an elementary teacher was part of the request too! ❤️

Now. I know I've said it before, but as a plus-size girly myself, reading fics where the reader is plus-size herself not only helps with the immersion, but also becomes even more of a delight when they're pictured as desirable. And you did such a good job with that. The repeated slaps on reader's ass, his obvious attraction to her, but most importantly, his outrage when she calls herself fat. Like he can't even believe she'd think of herself that way, because that title simply never occurred to him. Such a rewarding and healing thing to read! 🥹

Ughhh I feel you so much here. Me being plus-sized myself, it's always fun for me to give myself this escape and write how I wish all of us would be treated, especially when we get down on ourselves. That scene at the end was very self-indulgent in a way, but at the same time it made sense for the reader character and how Dean sees her! And also, I just feel that Dean wouldn't mind having his hands full. 😏❤️‍🔥

And god, all those feelings of comparing herself to Lisa and Jo. I wish I didn't know that sinking feeling in her gut when she talked about how she had to slim herself down to fit into the dress, while Lisa and Jo do it so effortlessly. Or the absolute gut-punch that was Lisa's talk about "sticking to a clean diet for the baby" - as if she gives two shits about the little one growing in reader's belly 😒 Ten bucks say she secretly wishes there was no baby to begin with (which, honestly, theoretically I can't blame her for...), nor that she cares about the reader's "health". Fat shaming packaged as "caring". 🤮 Ugh, it made me so mad just reading it! (You wrote it so well 🥲)

lmfaooo pure personal experience on this one! 😅 While I'm sorry you can relate to the reader here like I do, I'm glad you thought it was written well! Lisa being a total bitch in this one loll, disguised in "niceness and politeness" to me is always worse than being blatantly nasty for some reason. It's more like the kinds of things we probably deal with on the day-to-day, when you don't know if something knows they're being a bitch or not, or if they're really trying to hurt you.

GIRL. Now why was this so freaking hot. Jesus Christ. And then his admiration when she's on top next morning 😭

Because who would expect a selfless (generous) man on a one-night stand? 🤭

*dreamy sigh* And this. THIS. The moment where he catches her disappointment. (Cause, ngl, I would've been uncertain as hell myself if I'd just slept with this guy for the third time in one night and suddenly he's scrambling to leave...)

It's an important moment! Shows that Dean is not trying to make her feel like he just used her for sex, he really just is running late. 😂 He's a good guy, he just has a lot of growing to do. 💓💓

Oh, Dean Winchester, the man you are. Alex, I can't wait to see where this goes! Lisa as a more bitchy version is quite the interesting read, and their little unintentional three-way set-up is bound to cause some drama 👀 And I'm here for it!!! Can't wait for the next chapter - coming out on here just one day after my birthday! Can't wait to read it 💓

He's extra something special, all right. 😩

Girl I can't wait to share Part 2 on Sunday!! (Soon and very soon!) It's a huge rollercoaster of emotions we're headed down, and this is only the first leg of it. 😂

Omg Happy early Birthday!! 💕

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached�� as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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[kireilien]

obsessed.

pair. bf!seungcheol x fem!reader; wc. 2,737

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing, intentional lowercase, not proofread, alcohol use; plot heavy story, angst-ish?, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, race neutral reader, reader is an overthinker, food play, alcohol consumption, wam (wet and messy), slight spit play, kissing, oral (f receiving), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, nipple play, unprotected sex, doggy style over the counter, hair pulling, use of “cheol,” and “baby” 

note. please don’t fucking eat people out do anything w alcohol like this, this is fiction THIS IS FAKE 

synopsis. thinking of how shit your life was, you genuinely thought your boyfriend would break up with you. turns out he never would because he’s way too obsessed with you!

you felt like all of your feelings overwhelmed you. work has been terrible. your personal life is as shitty as it could be. you and your boyfriend have been distant more than ever. everything. literally everything in your life was actually horrible. 

day after day. 

afternoon after afternoon. 

night after night.

it just repeats. every single damn time. nothing is new to you anymore. you wake up. get ready for work. step into the office. get yelled off by your coworkers and boss. work over time because you’re the only one who doesn’t have any plans. get home. eat a shitty ass meal. get unready. sleep. then it repeats.

so what could you be doing out of all the days of rest? it's watching movies on your living room couch and just being a complete slob. you’ve never let it got this low. you turned your phone on silent, left your laptop away, and the only thing electronic with you was your tv. 

time passes. your low and hazy-like eyes shift to the clock onto the top left of your tv screen, barely even focusing.

10:30/22:30.

huh. didn’t know being a slob was that much of a waste of time. in a blink of an eye, the day has already passed. 

without much of a thought, you knew that there weren’t going to be any important notifications besides the typical notifications you would get from random apps on your phone that you didn’t bother to turn off. 

but to your surprise, there was something important.

missed calls from your boyfriend, seungcheol.

you regretted seeing those missed calls. you haven’t been the greatest partner these past few months to him. your life came crashing down, what could you do?

reluctantly so, you picked up one of his calls. 

the last call out of all five he sent was approximately two hours ago. surely he’d be active, right? there weren’t any voicemails left by his number anyways. you were slightly scared though when the echoing ring filled your right ear from your phone being flat against it.

you grit your teeth. what if he wanted to break up? it wasn’t gonna be a surprise if he wanted to. like before, being a shitty partner and being absent in all ways isn’t the best partner. yet, a small, painful ping in your heart says you could’ve done better.

it picks up.

“y/n?” seungcheol exhales.

you’ve missed his voice like crazy. you temporarily forgot why he was your boyfriend in the first place. he’s the first man who really made you feel love in your heart rather than your other exes.

“cheol,” you smile behind the phone.

“can i come over?” he sighs.

you immediately felt your smile and heart fall after you hear those four words. he was definitely going to break up with you. you couldn’t believe it. you swore to yourself you could’ve prevented it. you were just too late.

“cheol. i’m so sorry,” your teeth were clenched but, you carried on, “i wish i could’ve been better for you. you don’t need to come over. i’m so, so sorry.”

before you knew it, your water line fills with salty tears; daringly about to fall and roll down your cheeks.

“y/n, what the fuck do you mean?” seungcheol laughs lightly against the phone. you could hear a bag rustle in the background of his call with a few glass bottles getting put into that said bag. “baby, i’m coming over. we’re talking but we are definitely not breaking up.”

you took a moment to recollect what just happened in the last few seconds. seungcheol isn’t mad at you. he isn’t breaking up with you either?

after a quick pause and a quick wiping of your eyes, you continued the conversation, “uhm, sure. what’re you doing?”

“let’s have a drink. we haven’t drank any soju in a while, have we?” he mumbles a bit after hearing him shuffling out the door while exiting his apartment complex.

“oh. yeah, we haven’t. when you coming?” you were glad he wasn’t angry, but you were still confused why he wasn’t.

“like uhh, gonna be there in 10?” seungcheol hums as you hear the dragging of his slippers against the concrete of his complex garage.

“cool, ‘kay see you then, cheol,” you sigh in relief. unconsciously, you were picking at the sides of your couch pillows in nervousness though. 

“yeah, see ‘ya, baby.” he ends the call as he turns on his engine of his car.

your phone drops beside you; lightly bouncing on the fabric of your couch. you were definitely gonna get a small earful of what seungcheol has to say about you worrying. he hates hearing you worry. 

but never mind that. you at least wanted to tidy yourself up before seungcheol arrives. so, you changed out to newer pajamas and headed over to the kitchen to pull out your cute matching shot glasses, remembering how it was still early on into your relationship when you got them.

you still remember your weekly drinking sessions with cheol. they were so giggly. sometimes glum, most times intimate and borderline sexual. nonetheless, you also missed drinking with him. you miss the nights where it was just the two of you alone. no one ever joined in. it was because it was a secret between you and him. just a night. for the two of you.

as you were lost in your romantic thoughts, seungcheol rings the doorbell. lightly skipping over, you swing the door open to your ever-so handsome boyfriend. everything from his tousled deep black hair, white tee, gray loose zip up, some black sweats, and his black slippers that you heard over the phone, was just perfect.

the little thumps in your heart came again. just like a few months back when you still visited him often.

“soju?” he gleefully lifts up the crinkled plastic bag while tilting his head down to place a small kiss against your lips. 

you return this kiss while nodding, “i have our shot glasses out.” 

taking off his slippers, you guide him to your kitchen counter where your glasses are. cheol snickers at them, still remembering those fond memories of the two of you drinking every week.

“shall we?” you grin.

“we shall,” he reciprocates.

opening up a brand new bottle of soju, specifically the blue bottle by jinro, seungcheol pours out some for the both of you. “no tricks this time?” you poke at your boyfriend.

he rolls his eyes. he always used to do those fancy tricks when he drank. cheol sighs and closes the bottle up again. he flips the bottle, making his arms crossed to open it up again and rearranged his hands again to flick some of the alcohol towards you. you flinch away from the splatter, giggling at his attempts to have some fun.

finally, the two of you brought your respective shot glasses up to have a small clink for a cheers and shot it down your mouths in a quick second. the gasp of the cool alcohol leaves your lips, already needing more of the addicting drink.

one shot, down.

half a bottle, down.

one bottle, down.

another half bottle, down.

before you knew it, the both of your brains started to cog a different way than before. you could already tell by the silence in between all the shots the two of you took.

after the moments of silence, cheol speaks up, “y’know. i’ve missed you,” he murmurs with his tired eyes. 

you snicker, “how can you miss me when i’ve been the shittiest girlfriend ever? i never pick up your calls or texts. i never—.” before you could even continue, seungcheol immediately shuts you up by pressing his lips against yours for a quick second.

“you really needa stop doing that. i miss you. that’s it. i’m obsessed with you at this point. not even just now, i’ve been obsessed with you. there’s no other way around it,” he sighs while softly tap-slapping your cheek.

“oh, really?” you twiddle with your shot glass, rolling it between your fingers.

“yes, really.” seungcheol is confused why you’re dragging this out for so long. why couldn’t you just realize it?

“hey,” he breaths out.

“what?” you retort back.

“how about i show you how obsessed i am with you,” cheol simpers.

“sure.” you liked how this was going.

seungcheol immediately attaches your lips with his again, however in a romantic-like gesture. his hands slide onto your body so fluidly he reaches down, all the way to your hips. while yours found their way up and about in his hair. you could both taste the soju dancing along your mouths, loving the way it mixed into your saliva. 

quickly enough, breaths began to get rapid. the two of you were almost animalistic with each other; hands were everywhere. seungcheol’s grunts and your whines were more than enough to understand that the both of you couldn’t get enough of each other. you still didn’t believe the man you thought you lost was making your mouth messy with his.

“fuck it,” cheol let’s your plumped lips go and downs the rest of the soju remained in the bottle. but, he leaves half of it still in his mouth, waiting for someone to drink the rest. that someone, is you.

he returns back the kiss, allowing the alcohol slip down your mouth, ingesting it along with the enhancing wetness of his spit from the soju beforehand. you were well dizzy from this point on. not from the drinking though. it was purely from seungcheol. he’s driving you crazy, nothing like ever before.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed him so, so, bad. you zip off his zip up jacket, throwing it across the kitchen somewhere; as well as his shirt to reveal his bulky figure he’s been building up these past few months. 

cheol was ravenous. you didn’t know if it was from the buzzing from the alcohol or the making out, but he was sure enough it was just from you. 

he slips off your pants and underwear, leaving you bottom naked for him to prop you up on your cold kitchen counter. you lay back on your propped up elbows to give him a wide view of your dripping cunt, out and ready for him to use. 

taking another bottle from his bag, seungcheol twists open another bottle of soju to pour a few drops over cunt for him. “fuck— i need you, cheol. i need you so bad.” you whimper under his touch.

“i got you, baby, lemme make you feel so good,” he mutters a bit before outlining your sopping pussy, kissing a few times over. seungcheol hooks his bulky arms underneath your thighs to have you lie completely down the counter to make sure he has all of you, melting in his hands.

at this point the soju, his saliva, and your juices covered your inner thighs. you couldn’t bare to open your eyes. cheol made you crazy. he knew how to mess with your head. his hands even pulled down to slide his thumbs on the edges of your inner lips to extend his view of your pretty cunt. 

you were melting on the counter. your hands were tangling his hair, legs were hooked were propped on his back, and you didn’t give a single fuck of how loud you were being. moan after whine after whimper was continuously falling with seungcheol’s name. you couldn’t help it.

soon after, the knot in your stomach felt tighter and tighter in seconds. “fuck—! cheol ‘m gonna—!” you groaned out.

“come on my face, baby— lemme taste your sweet cum,” he sighs against your drenched cunt.

in a matter of seconds the knot in you snapped, causing you to release your cum all over seungcheol’s face. he laps your juices to make sure he tasted all of you and comes back up to your face, “god, baby— you see— literally obsessed enough to eat you out with alcohol dripping down your pretty pussy,” he mumbles as he stares into your eyes while taking his hand to dip down and rub small rings around your clit.

“more— i need more, cheol.”

“take off this top, baby, i’ll give you more.”

you discard your shirt to some other place in the kitchen as cheol shoots down the rest of alcohol in the bottle in his mouth. seungcheol then latches his mouth around your right nipple. your mouth shot open with strings of curses leaving your lips, relishing in the coldness from the soju, as well as the warmth of his mouth. 

his lips danced between both of your nipples and down to your stomach, back up to your lips. “slide down, baby. i wanna fuck you— wanna fuck you so bad,” cheol groans in your ear. you nod quickly before pressing your torso down against the semi-cold and semi-hot counter. 

seungcheol strips himself as quickly as he possibly could and lines himself against your cunt; nearly breathless. the vibrations from your whines buzzes against your cheek. you were on overdrive at this point. your brain was mush, and it was about to become every bit more mushed.

with one quick push, cheol bottoms himself out completely in you; gaining two hearty moans from the both of your mouths. 

after a few pauses, cheol whispers against your ear, “you good, baby?”

“mhm, please, fuck me, cheol.”

cheol slides his hands under your hips to slide yourself on and off your cock. the slickness of your cunt and the soju claps between cheol’s cock. although the pace was slow at first, the speed and intensity soon picked up. 

you couldn’t contain your moans of movement. your hands started to become sporadic. your hands gripped onto the edge of the counter to the flat middle of the counter. seungcheol noticed your hands but his eyes eventually trailed to the a few bottles still unopened in his plastic bag.

he stopped his movements and slipped his hands out from your hips to open up another bottle. as one hand holds the bottle cheol’s other hand slides up to your hair and pulls it back, making your back flesh against his chest. “you haven’t drank that much tonight, baby. care for a drink?” seungcheol seductively hums in your ear.

your mouth slacks open for cheol to pour a good amount of the soju for you to gulp down. a sigh of relief exits your mouth from the soju but that was soon interrupted by a sudden snap of cheol’s hips. his tip just grazes your cervix from that snap, causing you to gasp.

“you seem to like the drink more than my dick, baby.” cheol tsked from your reaction. 

“no— i don’t! fuck me, cheol. i love your cock. i’m obsessed with it,” you frantically try to buck your hips back to fuck your self back on his cock.

he chuckles at your weak attempts of fucking yourself back on his cock. “here, drink the rest, will you? lemme make you feel good.” seungcheol passes the bottle off as his hands finds your hips again to sharply snap his hips against yours.

meanwhile, you could barely hold the cold rim against your lips. with each thrust up, you caught a tremble in the glass. you needed to get this over with. you didn’t care that the strong liquid pours over your chin and onto the countertops. with quick gulps, the majority of the soju was gone.

finally, you could focus on cheol’s cock. the glass rings from the sudden hit of your hands to the countertop, literally nothing could phase you past your boyfriends cock. it was too heavenly to focus on anything else.

the thick veins on his dick are pulsing from the friction between him and the slickness of your cunt; just dripping from arousal. your moans and whines intertwined with cheol’s grunts and groans; it was almost too erotic.

eventually, cheol’s thrusts started to become stronger yet, slower. with a few more pumps, the both of you came; coating each other in your sticky fluids. after a few hearty breaths, seungcheol comes close to your face.

“can’t you see i’m obsessed with you?” seungcheol kisses your cheek gently. 

“yeah— can now,” you smile from his kiss.

even then, you were already obsessed with seungcheol from the start.

© KIREILIEN 2025 | please like, repost, and/or comment! ♡︎

[tired-o-fighter]

Wayne family adventures ep 156 spoilers below the cut

Another 5am reading for me aomslmwlmwj

LOOOOK AT DAMIAN STANDING NEXT TO HIM WITH SO MUCH PRIDE WAAAAH

So like this is EVERYTHING ACTUALLY

Like the fighting first high five is ABSOLUTELY adorable. Also the death joke is absolutely perfect sojnanospina this legit feels like a scene from a fic it’s absolutely adorable

I absolutely adore this actually. Alfred and Bruce are just fucking perfect sl,spksk; and these three’s FACE of the face is absolutely everything. And they get away with it because of COURSE they do.

So like this panel gave me CHILLS. Like god how fucking amazing can one single expression be? Cass’s face her eyes. You can see she’s absolutely terrified of her own thoughts, of what they mean. But she also knows why she’s thinking them. This is without a doubt the most amazing way this panel could’ve possibly been drawn and it’s no doubt one of my favorites in the whole series

THEY’RE SIBLINGSSSSSS. I LOVE DAMIAN AND CASS WAAAAAAAH ALSO DAMIAN HAS GROWN SO FUCKING MUCH I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THEIR ENERGY TOGETHER WE NEED MORE OF THEM BEING SIBLINGS I KOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH

GO STEPH!!! I love this so much i can’t. She’s so AAAAAAAAAA

Ok ao like i know they’re not gonna kill joker i know i fucking get it but like… i wish she would, or someone else would. Like ik they’re won’t an i know why they won’t but i legit really fucking wish they would. Cuz like aaaaaaa-

[inawickedlittletown]

Thoughts on 8x11 and BuckTommy

Word count: 1.3k

Here’s the thing about this episode. It has fed us. It has brought us back from the depths of our post break up despair. I know some bobs are celebrating thinking that the way Eddie was talked about opened a door for buddie. I know they’re reading it that way and to that I mostly say keep reading the show the way you want to and then write the fic you want to write, but also accept what the show is doing. Accept that bucktommy shippers got Buck and Tommy making out and tearing each other’s clothes off on screen and that despite what the morning brought, it was made clear to the audience yet again that they both want to be together. 

Buck and Tommy’s relationship was treated differently than any other of Buck’s relationships. The break up wasn’t a clean break never to be spoken of again. It was very clearly the two of them wanting to be together but not communicating properly enough to stay together. And afterwards Buck pined…and Tommy almost texted him and we know now he wanted to call and he drove by the loft. He was pining too. He wanted Buck back just as bad. 

I doubt that Tim ever had it in his mind that Tommy saw Eddie as competition until this episode. That’s just not present in all the time he and Buck spent with him at the start of this season, but also we can buy that Tommy felt that way and hid it well. Especially when you consider what came before Buck and Tommy’s first kiss. 

Tommy can be concerned about this. He himself has been through discovering his sexuality at a late age and also maybe some denial so maybe he sees that in Eddie, who knows. He’s been right there seeing Buck and Eddie’s friendship, we got so much of the three of them together that I mourned — after the break up — that we got so few scenes of just Buck and Tommy. And even if Tommy isn’t questioning Eddie’s sexuality, that doesn’t change that Buck could have feelings (unknown ones or known ones). What queer person hasn’t had a crush on an unattainable straight friend? 

I actually like that Tommy’s concerns about this highlights that and makes Buck say plain as day to Maddie that he is not pining for Eddie. His exact words are: “As much as everyone wants me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend it’s not like that”. That’s as much coming out of his frustration at what Tommy thinks of the matter and Maddie’s questions that lean towards making Buck really consider things, as it is directed at a certain part of the audience. 

It adds to so much to the break up and the reasons that Tommy was convinced Buck was going to break his heart. In this episode, Buck even asks if Tommy is less afraid now and Tommy confirms that and boy do I wish he hadn’t explained why. But he does, he chooses to communicate and be vulnerable and I do commend him for that. Eddie is not your competition, Tommy, he really really isn’t. So if the whole time Tommy was just waiting for Buck to realize his feelings for Eddie or just for Eddie to come out…or both, then of course he knows in his mind that he and Buck won’t be forever. Buck is the one that once more doesn’t say the right thing and he later admits to Maddie that he was kinda mean. Yes, Buck, yes you were. 

Now it’s time for Buck to really show him otherwise. It’s time for Buck to take some time and be completely sure and so he’ll keep baking and keep thinking about Tommy like he has since the break up. And when Tommy returns in a couple of episodes, like we know he will, we’ll see a continuation of this thread. And because this show doesn’t know quite how to drag anything out and also loves to mix in big emergency story lines with relationship drama, what we can expect is for Buck to know for sure who he loves. Tommy. And for Tommy to accept that and know it and have no fears about Buck breaking his heart. 

You know what else might be great, after everything is done and over, a scene where Tommy and Eddie talk about this and Eddie reiterates his straightness and how silly it was for Tommy to think he and Buck could ever be anything but platonic. Really put that extra nail in the coffin because to be honest, the buddie shippers might need that. 

From the moment the possibility that Tommy could be back for 8x11 existed, I thought it was definitely a choice made for a reason. By that point we knew he’d be back for the two part thing coming up in 8x14-8x15, and we all had reason to question the leaks, but I for one thought that if he was indeed back in 8x11 that we’d be getting bucktommy endgame without question even if the extent of Tommy’s role in 8x11 was a glimpse of him at a call. 

In the moments I allowed myself to think about Tommy being back in 8x11, I had to think about the importance of bringing Tommy back to Buck’s life in some way to remind the general audience (though could they forget with how Buck has mentioned him and kept baking about it), but also to bring the emotional thread back to the forefront. A lot has happened since the break up. But if you bring Tommy back a few episodes early and have Buck and Tommy reconnect, then the audience is left wanting that resolution and then you hit the audience with a situation that might put Tommy in danger…that’s good eating. That’s Buck on an emotional rollercoaster thinking about how he never wants to lose Tommy when presented with a situation where he might. 

This is how you do the angst of a third act break up and an endgame relationship. No show puts this much work into a relationship to then break them up for good or to shoe in a different relationship that has been shot down directly on the show and that has no narrative value where the characters stand currently. (I’ll add here that I used to ship buddie and I could see how that might have worked in the past, but it’s been years since I thought that it could ever be canon. That ship was shot down ages ago, it never even made it off the dock out to sea). It also doesn’t do it to kill off Tommy as some people have suggested might happen, not when that would absolutely destroy Buck. Do you want Tommy to haunt the narrative more than he already has since the break-up? That’s what would happen if Tommy died. Buck would never get over him. Tim has incidentally made that mistake once before by killing off Shannon and he’s been very open about regretting that. 

I am so excited for what the show has in store for us. I think bucktommy shippers lost a lot of trust in the show and in Tim, with good reason, but there’s definitely something being built up here. When the break-up happened, a lot of us were not happy, but optimistic about the reconciliation and what would come next. We saw it as a third act break up because that is what the show painted for us, and had the show been the only thing we had to go off of, we would have all been happily waiting for what happened tonight. Instead, some “journalists” made it their mission to punch bucktommy shippers when they were already down. We’ve learned from that. We’re not quick to take a too good to be true leak to heart and we’re just more cautious. But logic and having watched this show for years just tells me to give them a little bit of trust because Tim seems to be cooking something here and just like Bobby’s secret ingredient for chili is chocolate, we can’t judge the random ingredients that don’t make sense until we taste the dish in full.

[ducktracy]

Hi! So... I have to admit the last like 4 decades of Looney Tunes has not appealed to me in the least, though I've been a long time fan of the older content. The Day The Earth Exploded kinda seems different. I have to ask though... The last few shorts that have come out turned me off of even trying to watch new Looney Tunes specifically because of the ren & stimpy-esque grossout humor that permeated in them. Is this movie different from that?

I trust your judgement, and your post made me reconsider seeing the new movie, but I am not interested in modern Looney Tunes in the least. Honestly, will I be disappointed?

HEY THERE!! welcome to the club HAHA! you asked the right person, as someone who is also EXCEPTIONALLY picky with anything modern LT! i’m happy you thought of me!

SO… i guess it depends. which maybe doesn’t seem promising HAHA. i can’t say that the film isn’t completely devoid of those Ren and Stimpy-isms, and one of my critiques of the film in a recent rewatch was that i did wish it had more of that sort of classic Looney Tunes nuance and subtlety. however, rewatching it on the big-screen, i wasn’t bothered by it at all (and i was expecting to be bothered, since i had noted it before).

it’s nowhere near the levels of what the latest run of shorts could be. because i was worried about the very same—i DO love Looney Tunes Cartoons (the latest incarnation), i’m so proud of my friends and colleagues who worked on it, i’m so proud to have kept up with it every step of the way. but i do have a lot of critiques and nitpicks with it as well. because of that, i was going into this film thinking “these things i don’t like about the shorts are going to be in here, and that’s okay, make peace with it now, etc”

and i have to say i was VERY pleasantly surprised at how they seemed to address my every criticism. the film has a surprising amount of emotionality to it and room for things to actually BREATHE, which i was surprised by. the Daffy and Porky shorts, as much as i adore them, are pretty built on the foundation of “Daffy makes Porky’s life miserable and there’s a lot of screaming” and i was expecting that to be the case here. save for a very few insignificant moments, it wasn’t the case at all.

it’s still very much more hyperactive than, say, the Chuck Jones shorts of yore. there are some jokes that don’t really work for me as well as they could. i can’t say it’s completely absent of Ren and Stimpy-isms, but, at least in my eyes, it’s MUUUUUCH more tamped down than much of what LTC goes for with its gross out (which i find very distracting too. maybe that’s funny for me to say working on SpongeBob where i work with and am friends with people who worked on Ren and Stimpy! but it’s not what i want out of LT at all. i say this with Ren and Stimpy having been my foray into LT).

so, i would say go into it with an open mind. i work with a lot of Ren and Stimpy DNA all the time on the Sponge shows, and so i may have a bit of a blindness to some of those quirks. maybe there is more present in the movie than i thought. but as someone who was expecting much more gross out and screaming and all of the bad habits of LTC, my expectations were completely blown away. this is genuinely some of the best the characters have ever been handled in the last 65 years or so.

i think if you’re more used to/fond of the Chuck Jones or Friz Freleng school of LT humor, you may not be the biggest fan. but, if it helps, while there are things i would do to massage and mold the characters a bit differently if it were in my hands (including making the humor a bit more unique to the source material), i genuinely think it’s some of the best modern LT material we’ve ever gotten and ever will get. i’m trying to speak as unbiasedly as possible. R&S and its influence is sort of imbued into the modern animation pipeline as we know it, and so it’s difficult to be completely removed of it, but i didn’t at any point think “this feels Spummy [referring to Spumco]”. and my tolerance for Spum-isms has completely plummeted within the past few years, as i’ve found upon my latest attempt to rewatch R&S.

so… i can’t say for certain. our tolerances may be different, and what i think may be devoid of those habits still may be plenty for you. but no, there is no immediate gross-out that i can think of--maybe one or two quick gags/visuals, but nothing super comparable, and any high octane moments that may feel Spum-esque are either quick or contextually appropriate (and immediately followed by “normalcy”). i would say give it a shot! maybe keep an open mind just in case. but as someone who was also kind of mentally preparing myself for that sort of thing, my expectations were blown away, and i am REALLY protective about how my boys are portrayed. i can say comfortably that they did these characters right and there is a lot of love for the source material clearly on display. take the plunge! and if you didn’t enjoy it, i’ll proudly eat some crow HAHA. i’m flattered you thought of me to ask

[strismyproblem]

Of course I hate that we lost Chris, honestly I’m still not over it, but this switch felt true to her character. She has always been searching for a greater purpose, a legacy, especially after Erica, it fit that this was her exit. I feel like it was such a beautiful story.

I love the scene between her and Hondo, so much love and respect.

Luca is the ultimate friend, the best supporter, and as we see as the season ends, the best Stris shipper. He approaches the conversation with Street so well, with passion and support.

What about the flight attendant? Exactly Street! How did you not think Chris felt that! Once again, timing of this whole conversation.

Tell me you don’t love me. He knows she can’t deny the truth, she won’t. He’s hurt, he feels like he can’t take it anymore. She’s scared, her best friend, love, person all rolled into one. This episode hurts so deep, Alex & Lina do amazing work because you feel everything!

Also, I really enjoy Cabrara & wish we got more of her in future seasons.

Chris & Street -SWAT 5x20.

[graysonfics]

the apple pie life is something you’d never admit to the winchesters that you desperately crave. you were born into hunting, and you’re damn good at it, but part of you longs for the white picket fence and doting husband. the husband in your dreams is always dean, but you’d also never admit that. especially because he has the apple pie life you dream of with someone who isn’t you.

you don’t know why you’re on lisa’s doorstep right now. you can’t bring yourself to knock on the door because you know dean will be on the other side, and you haven’t seen him since that horrible night he left you. you cried yourself to sleep with no sam to comfort you.

you shake off the memory and knock on the door. with a hammering heart, you wait. eventually the door opens and you’re met with familiar green eyes that knock the wind out of your chest.

“(y/n)?” dean looks surprised. “what are you doing here?”

“i’m sorry to bother you,” you cough in an attempt to clear the nervousness from your tone. “i need to talk to you.”

dean nods, opening the door wider for you without a second thought. you follow him into the house he’s made a home for lisa and her son. there’s photos of them lining the walls that lead to the kitchen, dean smiling brightly in each and every one of them. you’re scared you’re going to puke.

“sit down,” he pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for you. “i’ll get you some water.”

dean busies himself with grabbing a glass from the cabinet and you try not to look around the kitchen. you imagine the life he has with lisa here, the family dinners around a real table instead of chinese takeout on motel room beds.

“it’s good to see you,” he says, sitting across from you. you can’t tell if he’s lying. “i tried to call—“

“you didn’t,” you smile sadly. “but it’s okay.”

“it isn’t. we both lost him.”

your throat tightens at the reminder of sam trapped in lucifer’s cage. you carefully think about your next words.

“about that…”

dean sits up, “what is it?”

“sam’s back,” you tell him and dean’s face softens. “he’s been back for about a year. before you get mad, he asked me not to tell you. he knew you’d leave lisa and ben behind if you found out and he wanted you to have a chance at happiness, dean.”

“where is he?” dean’s tone is calm but you can see the fury in his eyes.

“he’s fine.” you reassure him.

“(y/n)—“

“he’s fine,” you promise. “i just… i needed to tell you. he doesn’t know i’m here. he asked me not to come. and i… i wanted to see you.”

you swallow the lump in your throat and take a sip of water to distract yourself from saying too much. from telling him how much you hate him for leaving you, how you wish he would just come home.

dean’s about to say something when the front door opens. you hear lisa talking to ben and you stand up from the table in a rush, almost knocking over the glass of water.

“(y/n),” she sounds surprised as she enters the kitchen, her smile faltering. “hi.”

“hi, lisa,” you give her a small wave. “sorry for the intrusion. i needed dean’s advice on some… stuff.”

lisa nods, but she’s looking at dean over your shoulder and you know they’re going to talk about this once you leave.

“anyway, i should probably get going. thanks for having me,” you force a smile. “lovely to see you again, lisa.”

“you too.”

dean follows you to the front door and you avoid his eye as you go to leave. he grabs you by the wrist gently and you turn to look at him.

“sweetheart, i—“

“i’m happy for you,” you can feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes as your voice lowers to a whisper. “you deserve this so much, dean.”

“i’ll come with you.” he offers.

“i know you don’t want to,” you respond. “give him time, he’ll come and see you. i’m so happy you got out. i just wish you hadn’t left me behind.”

“(y/n)—“ he says, but you’re already out the door.

[winters-on-the-wing]

Oh what you said responding to the ask about transphobia/bigotry I've been looking for the right way to describe it: hard to romanticize! Thats like the foundation of this fandom it seems. Everything is whitewashed and stripped down to its bare bones to be the most relatable and palatable shit! Complexity for this fandom is babying regulus and feeling bad because his brother (rightfully so) left home. Like cmon are we not capable of being deeper than that. We base everything on the most bland tropes like brother's best friend and grump x sunshine! Truly moving and deep literature explores people in 3d not the 2d shells of people that can be described in singular words/attributes that bastardize them and make them walking caricatures of people (eg; Marlene = lesbian, Mary = pretty, James = sunshine, remus = wolf, and so on) the best art isn't easily palatable! The movies that leave you feeling ill or uncomfortable (in the good way) for lack of a better word are usually some of the best films. I feel like even aside from the racism, sexism and other problems of that sort, this fandom just lacks depth? We gave ourselves full creative power over these characters and bastardized them and it makes me so sad. There are so many smart and deep people in this fandom and I wish their analysis and ideas about the fabdom were he more popular ones instead of the ones that are easy to romanticize. Let's see conflict, not everyone has to be friends, people can be complex and not completely bad or good. Make them have complicated relationships outside of ships. What are the odds of about 13 people (the most popular characters) ALL finding their soul mates in highschool??? Like u can have sm fun exploring these characters but noooooooo. Ok sry for rambling, I'm a yapper. I'll stfu now

no. don’t stfu. never stfu.

you are absolutely right and you really boiled down something i’ve always been frustrated with.

i’m an actor. it’s my JOB to take characters from text, to see words on paper, usually ONLY dialogue and stage directions, and create a person, a fully fleshed person with wants and goals and fears and a soul. it’s my job to use the clues that the canon text provides and make the character pop out of the page, to make them compelling, to make them HUMAN.

if it’s not human, who the fuck cares? i know i sure dont.

i don’t want to read about plastic robots as they go through all the tired, stale tropes. grumpy x sunshine, enemies to lovers, best friends brother. it’s all the same. it’s a formula. it’s spoon feeding. i’m not trying to hate on people who enjoy it but i just can’t imagine being satisfied with that. the barest touch of the surface level when there’s so much if you go deeper. so much more HUMANITY. so much more meaning.

i need grit. i need people with palpable flaws, people who don’t always get what they want falling into their laps when they want it, people who are IN THE WRONG. people who think bad things and do bad things and regret it, people who do bad things and don’t regret it. people who exist messily. people who make me uncomfortable to read about because they’re so like me and i have to face the fact that i’m not perfect.

i don’t want a perfect romanticized story where the little white boy gets rescued by the big muscular casanova. i don’t want a robotic generated formula where the perfectly placed lesbian couple get just enough sentences to be seen so that the author can feel progressive and inclusive and then the lesbians get shoved off and forgotten about forever.

what happened to authenticity? what happened to bringing a piece of your soul to the art you create?

again i’m not trying to tell people how to enjoy fandom. do what you want.

it just personally saddens me how hard it is to find work with that human spark in it. the spark of curiosity, of intrigue, of going deeper than the bare surface level. i love art that makes me think. why does nobody THINK while creating anymore? sometimes i just feel so alone in this, surrounded by plastic when i want to read and write and engage with work that was written with a beating heart so palpable that it can be heard between every word.

i wish fanfics and headcanons and concepts that were created with thought were more popular than they are, instead of the same bland thing being shoved down my throat every second of the day. i constantly get hated on in this fandom for thinking differently than everyone else, but why is individuality an enemy? im starting to think that i get hated on in this fandom for THINKING, period.

does that make sense?

maybe i’m pretentious. it’s highly likely i’m pretentious.

[themculibrary]

Stucky Proposal Fics Masterlist

All I Ever Wanted For You (ao3) - plumeria47 G, 833

Summary: They’d agreed that this year, their first Christmas together since 1944, they would each buy three things they’d wished they could have given the other one back when they were too dirt poor – or in the middle of a war. To discourage outrageous purchases, a dollar amount had been squabbled over and eventually agreed upon.

But someone broke the rules.

(AKA: An unapologetically fluffy Christmas ficlet.)

asked and answered (ao3) - surgicalstainless T, 5k

Summary: “You should marry me, Bucky.”

“What?”

“You should marry me.” Steve said again. “Sister Eustace said that marriage is the purest form of love, and I love you more than anybody. So we should get married.”

Steve and Bucky. Five marriage proposals (and one time they didn’t have to ask).

A Very Merry Christmas (ao3) - bluejaythebeautiful T, 557

Summary: Steve did that really annoying thing where he put a bunch of smaller boxes into one really big box. Bucky’s fed up with him.

Coney Island (ao3) - janto321 (FaceofMer) G, 496

Summary: Steve and Bucky walk around Coney Island

From This Day Forward (ao3) - Politzania T, 1k

Summary: “Buck, you awake?” Bucky wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wasn’t supposed to be in officer country, much less in Steve’s tent and sure as hell not in Steve’s bed, naked as the day he was born. But Steve was right there and just as naked, so it was okay. Maybe even perfect.

History’s Gayer Than You Think (Or So MJ Says) (ao3) - lattely (orphan_account) T, 4k

Summary: Peter Parker has never witnessed a proposal. Until one day, he finds himself inches away from history building itself with the help of a ring box, when all he was up for was watching a movie.

I remember (ao3) - dizzyingly_dreamy M, 5k

Summary: He hated snow. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew that there was a deep, very stubborn hatred of snow. It seemed to run in his DNA, and no matter what angle he took, he hated snow even more than before.

For the moment, as he glared up at the sky, thick, cotton flakes drifted down towards the ground, lazily, twinkling softly in the lamplight. They were difficult to see without any light, but he could still see them, feel them in his hair, making his head feel heavy and insulated. It was strange, and he didn’t know if he liked the feeling it or didn’t. It looked light out, but that was only because the world was shrouded with thick, impenetrable clouds. There was no true darkness when the clouds were shielding them from it.

(or, Bucky manages to crawl his way back into a life he likes, and brightens up someone else’s just in time for Christmas.)

just goddamn marry me already, for fuck’s sake (ao3) - newsbypostcard E, 6k

Summary: “Do you,” Steve says, fingers newly tugging Bucky’s underwear until it starts to slide off his hips, “want to marry me, or not?”

Bucky sighs. “You know, in some circles people would consider this interrogation under duress.”

Lost and Found (ao3) - can_i_slytherin G, 5k

Summary: Five times that Steve lost something of Bucky's and the one time he found something.

Not Flying, Just Falling With Style (ao3) - twerkinshield E, 9k

Summary: In which Bucky wants a senior's discount, epic Mario Kart tournaments are had, Steve and Bucky struggle to learn modern slang, and Fury yells at everyone for scaring civilians.

Ring Pop (ao3) - LiviKate T, 2k

Summary: The first time Bucky hears about same-sex marriage, it's right after the Supreme Court decision, legalizing it for the whole nation. Funny, Steve never mentioned anything.

Strangers In The Night (ao3) - earthseraph G, 2k

Summary: He had it all planned out, you see. Ever since he was shipped off to his last tour he knew the moment he got home he was going to ask his Stevie to marry him. Simple get down on his knee, pull out ring, and ask. Then he got all fucked up.

(or: the one where Bucky loses an arm and asks Steve to marry him.)

The Wedding of Bucky Barnes (ao3) - stephrc79 T, 67k

Summary: This is the story of how an instagramming, trolling, pain in the ass got married to an equally annoying, artistic, bossy, stubborn blond oaf.

Or, you know, how one James Buchanan Barnes, Instagram Extraordinaire, married Captain America himself, one Steven Grant Rogers.

‘til you come to me (ao3) - radialarch T, 4k

Summary: “I’ll do it,” Steve says. “I’ll marry Bucky.”

(It’s because of the Russians.)

Too Long We Have Tarried (ao3) - kototyph E, 19k

Summary: Bucky picks up the ring and holds it between them. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says solemnly. “Will you marry me?”

We’re All Made of Stars (ao3) - MoreThanAFeeling (Daretodream66) T, 21k

Summary: Bucky is studying a nebula that keeps doing something unusual and what he finds is his childhood hero, Steve Rogers. How does Bucky not fall in love with the big dork? Spoiler alert: he falls.

[lesbitorte]

I took a peek at the tag after watching the new episode and I feel like some aren't getting what the theme this season seems to be, so I feel like wording this out

We haven't seen much but the theme is secrets, lies and truths.

(spoilers for revelator below)

While it has been a theme throughout the whole show, this season is making it even more prominent by having Marinette struggling with all of it and having Lila/Cerise/whatever her real name is as the main villain.

We know that Marinette hates liars and it is hard for her to continue to lie because it is weighing her down; she wants Adrien to know but it's hard and doesn't want him to be hurt by the truth. Lila, on the other hand, has no trouble with lying, in fact she states that she tells lies because it's what people want to hear, she seems to do it in order to gain power and so far she only wants to make a wish and that all her akumas are related to Marinette in any way, making it seem like she is the root of all her problems.

Now, Alya has a way lower tolerance for lies than Marinette has (which isn't a bad thing about her to have a tolerance to them, people are multifaceted and her being like that shows she's a well rounded and complex character) and she's rightfully angry because this is a HUGE lie, she did not only lie to all of Paris, but she lied to Adrien. The thing is that it is easy to be angry when you don't have the whole context, Alya doesn't know what happened, what went down at the mansion and only had one of the crucial bits of information but not the whole picture. Now her memory is erased because Chat got a power up (my boy grows!!!) yet we also got to see her saying that it was not her place on handling this secret and that it was Ladybug who should fix it right before that.

We see her later telling Marinette that whatever the secret is she's there for her whenever she's ready to tell it and then worrying if their friendship is okay. I think their friendship will be okay because i have hope for them and hope for Marinette finding the right way to tell Adrien (theories and headcanons aside because i want angst lol).

Truth finds a way and while people like to shit on this show's writing i actually love how they handle things and how consistent they are on the themes.

[magnusunpopularopinions]

I just saw the anon opinion about doorkeay having so much more fan works and stuff than any of the women from tma, and I was literally just thinking about, and I wanted to add a thought that I had. I'm so sorry this is so long.

A while back, can't remember where, I saw someone use doorkeay as an example of a "non-toxic" ship, as compared to "toxic" ships like jmart, and it confused me so much, because jmart is canon and so we see what their dynamic is like in the show, but doorkey isn't so everything about them is fan-made. Now, let me be perfectly clear, non-canon ships are great, I love them, but comparing a canon and non-canon ship like that just does not feel like a fair comparison to me. But in think that kind of dynamic kinda contributes to this.

Gerry and Micheal (Shelley, particularly) really don't appear that much in the podcast, so we really doesn't know all that much about them. That means when characterizing them, you can kinda do whatever you want, since there's not much you're starting with. And that means, if you want, you they don't have to have any of those more problematic traits that characters with more major roles do. Couple that with the tendency of all fandoms to be come critical of female characters and more forgiving of the men, and you're got the potential for the perfect storm of favoritism (maybe not the best term, but I think it works). Melanie, Basira, Daisy, and Georgie all have messier, or even problematic traits, since they're in the show more and so we get to learn the """"bad"""" sides of them, but Gerry and Micheal get to be as nice and wholesome as you want. They get to be good and non-toxic, unlike the toxic women who seem problematic and bad in comparison.

I don't know if this totally makes sense, and again, sorry it's so long, but it's just been on my mind recently and I wanted to throw my two cents in.

Also, just want to finish by saying, I don't think there is anything wrong with liking Gerry or Micheal or shipping them (I do all of the above), and I don't even think there's anything necessarily wrong with fluffing things up in fan-works to make things more "wholesome" (again, I do it too), but it's just one of those things I think we should be aware about when interacting with a work.

Thanks for sharing! Let’s chat!

Anon is referring to this post!

Fans are allowed to interact with the content however they wish, and no one interpretation is better than another. This is has been said multiple times on my blog and I will never* not agree with it.

I agree- I don’t think comparing a cannon couple to a fannon couple is fair. It seems sort of difficult as well- those are very different relationships.

*the only exception being if someone is being racist, sexist, etc. in their interpretation!

Again, thanks for sharing! What about you guys? What do you think?

And as always, remember to keep your words kind!

-E

>Hello! I’m E, and I created this blog to be a safe space to share Magnus Archives/Protocol opinions in! If you are seeing this in a reblog, I want you to know three things:

1) I value respect and kindness over anything.

2) I cannot control what others say in response to anyone’s opinions.

3) Only you can control your emotions/actions/words. Choose to respond with gentleness, not anger. After all, we all are here for the same reason- why not enjoy each other’s company?

Thanks, and have an awesome day/night!<

[sadcupcake]

Mikaelon's Gilbert

Part 2

Elijah’s POV

I had just met my mate, that much I’m sure of. I’m inclined to believe her but having mother back in our lives has been good for my siblings. If my mate is wrong about her sister’s intentions it could start an all out war between the Mikaelsons. When I turn around I can see my siblings standing by the stairs watching. I’m surprised our little mate didn’t see them on her way out. We’ve all known for a few centuries now that we shared a mate, also of us but Rebekah. Not that made her any less excited by the looks of her, happy to have a possible friend I’m sure.

“How long have you all been there?” I say. My siblings can be infuriating sometimes, but the look on their faces knowing we have finally found our mate is something that I’ll remember forever. We finally have something We’ve wanted for a thousand years, but the message she came to us with could tip my siblings over the edge. They are so caught up in mother being back they haven’t even considered her intentions. If they decide our mate is a threat to our mother and therefore our family I’m afraid of what could happen to her.

“Not long brother, thought you could keep our mate all to yourself?” Niklaus says, always 

with the paranoia. He hasn’t even met her yet and he thinks I’m trying to keep her from him.

Klaus POV

I should have known that Elijah would have kept her from me, from us. All I got was a glimpse of her leaving my home but I could tell it was her. My wolf tried to urge me forward, to follow her. I wish I could have talked to her, gotten closer to her. I will soon if my wolf has anything to say about it. Kol and Finn next to me both have the look of obsession I’ve come to know in Kol. Seeing that same look in Finn’s eyes however is new, I suppose after nine hundred years in a box I don’t know him as well as I thought.

“What did our lovely mate have to tell you anyway Elijah” Kol says next to me trying to get any information he can about her, the same as the rest of us.

“She is Elena Gilbert’s sister, and overheard her sister talking to Damon about mother trying to kill us all” Elijah says rather calmly for what he just said. I knew deep down that she wasn’t back to forgive me, to be a family again. I guess I just didn't want to admit it. But on the other hand I’ve never met this girl, never even heard of her in fact and now she shows up on our doorstep claiming to be the doppelganger's sister and knows information about my mother. How do I know this isn’t some sort of tep, mate or not? How do I trust her?

“LIES, Mother wouldn't do that, she forgave us, forgave me” I shout my anger coming out as it always does. I want to believe in our mate and let myself have this one thing but how can I when it’s the fate of my family at stake, our very survival?

“Niklaus, she is our mate. I too have my reservations about her identity and how she came about this information. But I believe we should at least investigate her claims. Mother is very much capable of what she is accused of” Elijah says, always the diplomat.

He brought up the topic of her identity and I couldn’t agree more. How is it that we’ve never heard of another Gilbert? It all seems too good to be true, our mate showing up just in time to save our lives, how could anyone trust that?

Kol POV

My mate was just in front of me and I let her walk out the door. Well I wouldn’t exactly say let, Finn and Klaus held me back from runner after her talking about how we couldn't scare her off. I had a feeling my Little Lamb liked a little fear. Our mate is perfect for us, all of us I just know it. When Elijah said that she was a Gilbert I was disappointed, because that means not killing the Gilbert boy. He had irritated me ever since I was un-daggered. All I want to do is rip his arm off and beat him to death with it, but at last, him being my beloved’s brother makes that a little difficult. I can see the wheels turning in Nik’s head already, I swear if his paranoia makes him believe she is conspiring against us I will find a way to kill him before I let him touch a hair on Little Lamb’s head.

“Whatever questions any of you have about her identity or her motive, you better not hurt her. I will find a way to kill all of you if so much as a hair on her head is touched” I say making it clear I won’t stand her being harmed in any way.

“Kol no one is going to touch her, she’s our mate and our questions will be answered in time” Elijah says trying to reassure me. I hope he’s right because I will end this family if it means her being safe.

“Are you sure about that ‘Lijah, ' cause Klaus is already thinking she’s betrayed us and he hasn’t even met her. And Finn over here hasn’t said a word about meeting our mate” I say trying to get my point across. Rebekah is a whole other story. She doesn’t share a mate with the rest of us, and I have no idea where her head is on the addition to our family. Bekka and female friends have never really gone great in the past.

Finn POV

If she knows that Mother wants us all dead, she may know about my part in it. I can’t even stand to think what my mate would think of me if she really did know. I can’t go through with it now anyway, If i did all her mates would die and that would mean her slow and agonising death. I couldn’t even stomach the thought. I need to figure out a way out of this. If I say no to my mother she will have a back up plan, she’s always got a back up. I can’t tell my siblings that our mate is telling the truth without telling them how I know and that would surely end up with me daggered again. For the first time in my eternal life I have a reason to be alive and I won’t let anyone take it from me. 

Without saying anything I walk away back to my room. Anything I say right now will only bring more suspicion on to me and right now I need a plan.