#and these are great prompts which I might take you up on: thank you

[milla-frenchy]

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[chthonic-cassandra]

I hear you're looking for fic requests...[hold music plays as I scroll through your ao3]...maybe do you have any thoughts on Iphigenia? I adore your one work about her very much.

also, semi-unrelated, wondering if you have anything to say about Measure for Measure? don't know if you've read it but you've read Titus and they feel equally niche. Anyway I think the vampire potential is strong with that play, and as vampire mutual, I thought that might appeal. [I wrote some 'what if Isabella got vamp'd at the end' stuff ages ago, I should dredge it up.]

Oh, do I ever have things to say about Measure for Measure! Twisting, vinegar-sour play with its language all turning in on itself like streets with no exits. It's a play I love very much, despite-because of its considerable structural flaws, and I do especially love beloved Isabella, with her extremity and abnegation-which-is-pride and her sharp rhetoric that winds itself into such psychosexual twists. I have never thought about vampire potential there, but I will ponder.

I have read some good Measure fic in my time (like this and this, and I want to know everything there is to know about your vampire Isabella). I have strong opinions about it myself, that maybe I will write in fic, but it would be ugly and uncomfortable because one of the things I believe most strongly about Measure is that Angelo and Isabella are in fact the only ones in the play who actually get each other, who actually are speaking the same language, and the fact that the only way that language can be enacted is through violence is the horror and the horrific comedy of it.

I also have things to say about Iphigenia. Some of them are (apparently, according to be my subconscious) horror movie Iphigenia Among the Taurians. And some of them are purely choreographic. But I am very touched that you like my little fic about her! Thank you so much for letting me know.

(also: touched and delighted to be the vampire mutual)

[midascrow]

Great Minds Think Alike

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

synopsis: Alastor is jealous of his own shadow.

a/n: The reader is portrayed as being pretty smart and into science and stuff. I like the idea of Alastor being fond a character who’s pretty intelligent, he finds them fascinating and likes seeing how they tick. Also this might be a little rushed I apologize in advanced!

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Alastors shadow is a traitor and a fake.

That’s what the man himself believes anyway, whilst he watches HIS shadow flutter around you, a wide smile trying far too hard to appear innocent on its face, as it helps you reach an especially high set stack of papers.

“Oh! Thank you so much…” Your sweet, melodic voice trailed off into an unsure note, not quite aware of how you should address the shadow that’s…ears(?) Twitched and wiggled, eyes(??) squinting back at you as it danced across the walls.

The radio demon wasn’t the least bit sure what had caused his shadows sudden bout of rebel, or why it had seem to take a special interest in you of all people.

Not that there was anything wrong or displeasing about you. Actually it was quite the contrary. Alastor found your company to be far more pleasant than most of the hotels staff and inhabitants.

You were awfully kind for a sinner. And not quite in the same realm of naivety that was the princess’s kindness.

You were smart. Clearly. Always aware of what went on around you and the neighboring spaces. Hardly had you been known to be caught off guard by the entrance of another, nor had you ever bumped into any of the sinners contrary to how the group seemed to enjoy clumping around each other in the foyer during special…”redemption” activities.

You were even so aware as to avoid any touch with the inhabitants of the hotel, including Alastor himself.

And while he wasn’t a very large fan of touch himself, even finding that he could appreciate your aversion to it, the demon couldn’t help feeling a little displeased by the lack of power it left him with when you evaded his touches so expertly.

Always stepping just slightly to the side when his hand attempted to connect with your shoulder. Head craning back, just quickly enough to appear natural when he made and effort pinch your cheeks condescendingly.

Frankly..it was frustrating.

And despite all that, despite all your evasions of the radio demon….here you were, practically-!-canoodling with his own shadow!!

“Oh..! You’re so sweet..” Red ears flopped and twitched, while his eyes narrowed. Alastor could not believe he was being made to watch this…disgusting display of treason.

You giggled softly, hand brushing along an invisible form, as the shadow curled around your own. You watched with a smile as your shadowed hand fell into the hair of the deers, only to gasp when met with the soft sensation of hair beneath your finger tips.

“Oh my…so you’re tangible..?” The shadow nodded vigorously, bumping its head into your palm before grabbing your wrist and laying a gentle kiss to your hand. With that smug fucking grin.

A static screech echoed in the parlour, turning the heads of the incoming dwellers, prompting them to gap at the twitching and seething demon.

And oh, was he seething.

You were far too curious for your own good frankly. So eager to dissect and experiment in what ever had caught your eye. Magic, contracts, demons, anything you could possibly find you wanted to study.

And Alastor was known to be one of the more enthusiastic individuals who indulged in your fascination. Encouraged it even.

Angel had often joked about the way he seemed to preen and puff up in pride whenever he dropped a newly disembodied sinners corpse at your feet, seemingly delighted in your ecstatic gasp of approval.

Which was…another thing. Redemption. Did you want to be redeemed? You’d hardly spoke of it. Sure, you participated in the trust exercised that the princess set up, but nearly everyone had to regardless. Perhaps you were too fascinated with the underworld to truly even think about the idea of redemption.

Alastor himself knew he wouldn’t, nor could he ever be redeemed. And frankly, the idea of you being thrown up to those pearly gates made his insides squirm in the most horrible way.

But that’s not something he wanted to ponder on right now. Not as he practically teleported to your side, shooting his shadow a sneer that it had the nerve to return, as he bent slightly over your shoulder. “My dear! What is it that has currently caught your eye this fine evening?”

When your eyes snapped to his own, he could practically feel the static buzz around him pleasantly, a smug shine in his eyes having successfully stolen your attention from that accursed shadow.

“Alastor! I was just…uh..chatting I suppose with your shadow! He’s been very helpful today. Did you send him?”

No-“Why yes! I did my dear. I figured it wouldn’t help to lend you a helping hand this night, after all you’ve been such a joy around the hotel since your arrival!”

The shadow swished and darted around, vigorously shaking its heads and hands in a way to catch your attention, but a small tap of alastors can to the floor sent it dissipating back to his feet with a displeased hiss.

“I simply could not stop myself from assisting the lovely little sinner that had come into the arms of our sweet little hotel.”

His smile twitched and stretched at the sight of your shiny flattered gaze, that darted across his face with the same awe you exuded when coming upon a new bit of information you had to uncover. A new mystery.

Perhaps Angel had a point. Prior to before…he could feel the way his back straightened..the way his ears stood tall and proud, and the tail of his coat shifted just slightly. The Radio Demon could not deny the pride that fluttered into his dead heart and seeped into his flesh.

Even as he hummed about a new species of sinner he had stumbled upon. Even as he watched with somewhat softer eyes as you gasped and leaned just the slightest bit into his space, eyes alight with interest. Even as his dark shadow like tentacles darted beneath his feet and out the door, in search of a new test subject to grab- just for you.

Even as his hand touched the dip between your shoulders blades, when he led you towards his room for a refreshing lunch before your next scientific session.

Alastor could not deny,

He and his shadow were one and the same.



[chibinasuu]

Hello! I saw your req’s were open >.< so I was wondering if I could ask for a zoro or Sanji x sleepy reader. Specifically where reader is constantly sleepy and NEEDS their naps or they will be cranky like a toddler XD sorry this is just exactly how I am and I think it’s kinda silly <3 thank youu && I love your work

asdjkdlakdj this is such a cute prompt!! thank you so much for the request! i know you said zoro or sanji, but i couldn’t decide so i just did both :) 

hope you enjoy <3

Much-needed Nap

Pairings: Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Zoro

“Zorooo,” You pouted from your perch on the bench of the crow’s nest, “How much longer are you going to take?” 

The swordsman in question was doing some push-ups effortlessly in the center of the room, “I literally just started warming up.”

“Oh, come on!” You went over and crouched beside him, poking the hard muscles of his bare back, “It’s nap time.”

He paused and looked at you incredulously, “You already took a nap right after lunch!”

“I can’t help it that I’m already sleepy again!” 

“Well, go take another nap then.” He said, continuing his reps, “I gotta finish this set.”

“But I wanna nap with you!” You whined as you belly-flopped onto his back without so much as a warning, your arms clinging to his neck, “Now, Zoro!”

Zoro, the monster that he is, didn’t even stumble and continued with his push-ups as if there was no added weight of another person’s whole body on top of his.

“Fifty more.” He compromised. “You can stay where you are. Hell, you can just nap like that if you want.”

After a few more reps, he chuckled, “This is actually great training – I could use the extra weight.”

You swatted the back of his head, and with an exaggerated gasp, you joked, “Are you saying I’m heavy?!”

His movement actually stuttered as he burst into laughter, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.”

The motion of Zoro’s exercise had a similar effect on you as a rocking chair, and you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“...Forty-eight, forty-nine,” You vaguely registered Zoro counting, “Fifty!” 

He carefully lowered himself onto the mat and you rolled off him, “Ugh, finally.” 

Before Zoro could get up, you draped one of your legs and arms over him, trapping him to your side. 

Zoro laughed, “At least let me get dressed first.”

“No, don’t get up.” You snuggled closer to him, “I’m comfy.”

He squirmed to get you both into a more comfortable position. Now on his back with your head resting on his chest, he said, “Hm. Can’t believe I found someone who likes to nap more than me.”

“Seems like you met your match then.”

“Seems like I did.” He agreed.

It was dark when you were rudely awoken by Usopp’s shouts from below the mast, calling out that dinner was ready.

You sighed as you felt Zoro’s steady breathing, indicating that he was still fast asleep. You might be insufferable whenever you needed a nap, but your man was definitely more so whenever he needed to be woken up from his. 

As you gently shook him awake, his arm, which had snaked around your waist in his sleep, tightened even further. He buried his face into your neck and refused to open his eyes.

You let out another exhale. You could only hope that Luffy had not already inhaled all of the food by the time you two finally got to the dining room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

“Hey,” Sanji called out, hands busy filling the kettle to make some tea for the two of you, “Do you want the blue mug or the yellow one?”

You were seated on the dining chair, your body slumped forward onto the table, arms pillowing your heavy head. It had only been a couple of hours since you woke up from your last nap, yet you could barely keep your eyes open now. 

The rain pattered on, the faint sound of it hitting the deck outside and the window of the dining room only added to your drowsiness. 

You had heard Sanji talking to you, but in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t find the energy to give him an answer. 

Sanji, still facing the stove, repeated the question in a slightly louder voice, thinking you hadn’t heard him. 

“I don’t care, Sanji!” You snapped as you put your forehead down on the table and closed your eyes.

Sanji paused, before immediately turning off the stove and putting away the mugs. Tea time could wait, he thought, but first, he needed to take care of his beloved. 

He walked to where you sat and touched your back gently to get your attention.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, about to open your mouth to apologize for your ill temper, but he already had a knowing smile on his face.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand, “It's time for your nap, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you took his outstretched hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Sanji only chuckled while he pulled you to your feet, “I know. You’re just tired, aren’t you?”

He led you to the plush couch on the other side of the kitchen, then sat down and patted his lap. 

You curled up on the couch, placing your head on his lap as you’d done countless times before. The cook’s delicate fingers automatically went to your hair, his gentle strokes slowly lulling you to sleep. 

“The blue one,” you mumbled sleepily, causing Sanji to reply with a confused “Huh?”

“I’d like the blue mug, please.”

Sanji smiled in amusement, “Sure thing, dear. We’ll get the tea brewing once you’re up from your nap.”

He touched his fingertips gently to his lips, then to your forehead, before returning them to your hair, “For now, sleep.”

You obliged, falling into a peaceful slumber, as you always do with him around.

a/n: FYI, i'm currently holding a cozy holiday drabble event so please join and send in your requests if you're interested!! check out the details here <3

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[crescenthistory]

hihi i love ur work sm <3 could you pls do a barty crouch jr sunshine x grump except the reader is the grump? ik barty isnt rlly sunshine like but he seems a lot more outgoing and energetic when compared to the reader. for the prompt could it be a.6 where the reader is just being her usual grumpy self and barty sort of mocks her? if the idea doesnt sound so appealing u dont have to do it i understand !! (also ignore the fact i submitted this earlier but forgot to put the prompt lmfao)

hi sweetheart! first of all, no i will not ignore your earlier ask because what you said about my writing was soso sweet and i think about it daily<33 i am a truther of barty being the sunshine in these dynamics because his chaotic energy needs a bit of a grumpy counterpart which is why i'm also a bartylus truther shhh so i'm in love with your idea, thanks darling xx this was so fun to write, why is he like this

Prompt: A.6 "Aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), you are in gryffindor sorry and marauders!bestie, mostly barty pov so it's sassy and biased, banter/bickering, language, some innuendos/suggestive jokes, they do not kiss physically but are making out in barty's head tbh, jegulus appearance my loves, a little bit of bartylus snuck in there

Note: i love their dynamic here, might write some more blurbs with the same storyline/concept

continuation can be found here <3 and here

Barty could not believe Regulus had betrayed him on such a carnal level.

Becoming chummy with Gryffindors in general should be considered a cardinal sin, but shagging one on the regular? Insisting that shagging was a “crude term” for it and insisting Barty accept that his best friend, stupid wanker, is actually in love with and dating James Potter, the epitome of Gryffindor bravado?

Absolutely unacceptable. Arguably a hate crime, and he told Regulus as much, only to be met with an eye roll as the black haired boy continued to drag him along to where his new boyfriend was sitting in the Great Hall, surrounded by friends.

“Well, if it isn’t Baby Black?” A girl called as Regulus approached the group, hauling Barty along with him. Others around smiled and greeted Regulus – not Barty.

“Shut it, McKinnon,” Regulus grumbled, sheepishly taking the seat on James’s left that he had saved for him. Barty could spot a slight pinkish blush creeping up on Regulus’s cheeks when James murmured a hey love and kissed his cheek.

Barty could puke at the sight.

Nevertheless, he shoved some Gryffindors further down the table to take a seat beside Regulus. For whatever reason, he had believed it necessary to bring Barty with him every single time he meets James’s gnarly pack, so Barty assumed the role of protective friend while still making it exponentially clear that he disapproves.

“No acknowledgement for me then?” Barty looked around the table who were in one degree or another cooing at the fresh couple. All except Sirius, who, like Barty, was faux gagging at the sight.

It’s a new low for Sirius Black to be your one ally.

“Make yourself note-worthy, and we’ll say hello to you, Junior.” The gruff voice came from you, who conveniently was sitting opposite Barty this morning.

You were thus far the most tolerable of James’s friends, mostly because you had yet to be as loud and obnoxious as the rest, despite the red and gold around your neck. You had yet to say almost anything at all, but what you did say had a habit of drawing a snort from Barty. Mostly because it was never particularly kind.

Your eyes didn’t leave the crossword puzzle you were working on as you ate, shutting out the bickering around you, yet somehow picking up on Barty’s comment. 

Intriguing. 

“I take great personal offence to that, Treasure.” Barty's voice was incredulous but he sported a contradicting wicked grin, happy at the opportunity to wreak a bit of havoc if he must be seated here.

“Ew.” You looked up at that, eyes narrowing at the pet name he gave you. He decided then and there, that was the only way he would refer to you from now on. “And good. Maybe it can help you build some character.”

“Oh, come on,” James butted in, finally drawing his eyes from Regulus – who he had sneaked an arm around before the boy could protest at the public display of affection – and looking at his dear friend and his disgruntled friend-in-law. “Be nice to Junior, he slithered here all the way from the comforts of his dungeon.”

“So did your boytoy, Potter, so watch your mouth.” Sirius, James and Regulus all winced at the word boytoy, though for very different reasons.

“And so I am being nice to him,” James retorted, squeezing Regulus as he looked down at him. “Aren’t I, love?”

“Shut up,” Regulus whispered.

“You’ve already said that today, Reggie,” McKinnon replied with a sly grin. “Find another comeback, why don’t ya?”

Regulus just rolled his eyes at her while Sirius bumped his shoulder into hers in a sign of approval.

“Anyway.” Barty drew the attention back to him as he spoke up, but his eyes were trained on you. “Build some character you say? What character would you like me to be, Treasure?"

You sized him up, clearly debating whether to follow James's advice or take Barty's bait. The latter seemed to win.

"Someone less disruptive would be a great start."

"That would hold more bite if you didn't willingly surround yourself with this lot," Barty laughed, waving his arms a bit too theatrically towards your friends, some of which were scowling at him, others nodding in agreement. Barty swore he could hear James whisper fair under his breath.

"Willingly is a bit of a stretch." You side-eyed Sirius beside you with a sly grin, who took a few seconds to process your sentence. Once he realised, he gasped and swatted at your arm for the disrespect.

Barty was enjoying himself much more than he expected.

"Aren't you just a sweetheart?" His grin never faltered as he continued his one-sided staring contest with you. As if you were the only thing in the room of notice, as if your friends weren't right there and needed to be won over by him as well.

“I can be,” you drawled, fighting to keep your face neutral. “You just gotta earn it."

Barty tilted his head, eyes narrowing with interest as he studied you. There was something undeniably magnetic about your sharp tongue, the way you seemed to remain so unbothered by the chaos swirling around the table.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, inching just a bit closer. “And how do I do that?”

Finally, you locked eyes with him properly, levelling him with your stare. Your expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe?—beneath your cold exterior.

"That ship sailed so long ago, you can't even see it from harbour, Junior."

"Good thing I can swim." Barty winked at you, and part of him thought he caught you look flustered for half a moment as his comments grew flirtier by the minute.

“Fine by me, easier to drown you if you jump in the water willingly."

Barty barked a laugh, unphased by your words. "Don't threaten me with a good time." He could feel Regulus giving him a look from his right, but Barty ignored it. He was far too entertained by you now. “Tell me, do you give everyone such a warm welcome, or am I just special?”

Your lips twitched, but you held your ground, flicking your eyes back to the crossword in front of you. “You’re just annoying.”

Regulus groaned softly, clearly wishing he could disappear into the floor. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to subject himself—and by extension, Barty—to the whirlwind that was James Potter and his pack of friends, but he also wasn’t blind. He saw the way Barty’s attention had shifted, how your sharp, biting comments had hooked him in a way nothing else had managed to. He could practically feel the chaos brewing.

James, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together. “Right, well, now that we’ve all sufficiently insulted each other—again—how about we chat about something less murder-y?”

“No promises,” you murmured, flipping a page of the Daily Prophet as you continued working through the puzzle.

“Good efforts, Potter, but I fear she's just too intrigued by me” Barty sighed, leaning back in his seat as if exhausted by the mere prospect of attention. “I have that effect on people.”

“Oh, sure,” McKinnon chimed in, rolling her eyes. “We’re all positively obsessed with you.”

Sirius, looking entirely too pleased with himself, gave you an exaggerated wink. “I’d pay good money to see her put you in your place, Junior.”

“And I’d pay good money to see you mind your own business,” you retorted coolly, not even sparing Sirius a glance. Neither boy seemed sure if the comment was meant for Sirius or Barty, but didn't let that deter their entertainment.

Barty watched the exchange with open fascination. He couldn’t help but admire how easily you held your own amongst this overzealous group, considering their tendency to overwhelm people with their loud, boisterous energy. You were like a still, cold lake amidst a storm, unbothered by the wind and waves crashing around you.

He leaned closer to Regulus, his voice dropping slightly as he muttered, “I like her.”

Regulus, still recovering from the emotional whiplash of being dragged between Barty and James’s worlds, gave Barty a flat look. “Don’t.”

Barty’s grin only widened. “Too late.”

It became a strange, almost delirious routine for Barty to be swirled into the life of James Potter and Co. He minded it less and less, irritation soothed almost instantly once he saw you.

He sought you out every time Regulus brought him along, plopping down beside you on the common room couches, leaning on your chair at the library, catching your eye in the hallways. You presented begrudgingly, always rolling your eyes and scoffing, but your resolve crumbled slowly and the smile you were fighting became more insistent.

You and your dry retorts, you with your books or puzzles in hand, you and your knowing looks that grew more affectionate.

Barty was thoroughly fascinated.

"Don't screw this up for me please," Regulus would whine as the two of them walked back to the Slytherin dorms with just a few minutes left before curfew. They had dragged out their time sprawled across the couches by the fireplace at Gryffindor.

This time, as most times of late, Regulus hadn't asked Barty to come – he hadn't needed to. While the two usually spent most of their time together, Barty had practically been glued to his side as of late, ready to jump on the opportunity to see you.

"I won't," Barty dragged out the words with annoyance, as if he had said them a thousand times as of late. "Don't worry your pretty head so much Reggie, James won't care that I'm bantering with his bestie."

"It's not just the bantering I'm worried about," Regulus muttered, but Barty caught it clear as day. He gave his friend a look that demanded further explanation.

"You clearly fancy her, Barty!" He just blinked, as if to say and? Regulus groaned. "Just don't mess anything up with her to the point where she gets so angry she doesn't want to see you anymore. I don't want to have to deal with managing my time between you and James because she wants you dead."

Barty sighed dreamily at those last words, whispering wouldn't that be hot? Regulus gave him a corrective slap up the back of his head.

"I won't okay, I won't!" Barty was the one grumbling now, trying to deal with the infatuation in his stomach, just aching to go back and bicker some more with you, while also calming his best friend down. "I don't want to actually like hurt her or anything, I just like getting a little rise out of her."

Regulus paused before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, levelling Barty with a glare. He realised then that he seemed to have a type of person he prefers to associate with, because you had given him that same look earlier when you debated each other about who should get to sit in the comfy chair. He suggested you just sit in his lap in the chair – a great compromise, really – and a beautiful blush crept up on your face when you scoffed.

"If she will make you happy, please do go for it. But be careful, please." Regulus's tone of voice was intent, leaving little room for argument.

Barty still found some, of course, but he was soft for his friend and gave way.

"Fine, don't worry, I've got it under control," he all but whined. "It's not everyday stoic Regulus Black begs me for anything, so fine."

There was a smile on Regulus's face when he shoved him then, finally stepping into the Slytherin dorms to call it a night.

You were in the library the first time Barty got you all to himself.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Barty found himself wandering through the library, absentmindedly scanning the rows of books. He wasn’t really paying attention, more so killing time before his next Quidditch practice and possibly looking for some trouble, when he spotted you in a far corner. Much better.

For once you were free from your larger than life friends, nose peacefully buried in another one of your books as you twirled your quill before your fingers. Barty knew you were waiting to scribble something in the margin, and a surprisingly soft warmth sprouted in his chest when you did. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made his way over to you, leaning casually against the bookshelf beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here, Treasure.”

You didn’t even bother looking up. “If you’re here to annoy me, I’ll hex you. Finally got some peace and quiet."

Barty laughed, taking the seat across from you without invitation. “You wound me. What makes you think I’m here to annoy you? Maybe I just wanted some quality company.”

“Quality company?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow as you finally looked up from your book. “And yet you chose to sit with me.”

“Exactly,” Barty replied smoothly, flashing you a grin. “You’re the most interesting person in this castle, and I’m bored. I’m sure you can entertain me.”

You gave him a long, appraising look, as if trying to figure out what his angle was. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope.” His characteristic cheshire cat grin was playing across his features, and you ignored the stirring it caused inside you.

A pause stretched between you as your staring contest prolonged, and for a moment, Barty thought you were going to ignore him, go back to your book, and continue the delicate balance of biting banter and cold indifference that had marked all your previous interactions.

Then, much to his surprise, you closed your book with your fingers keeping your page. You leaned back in your chair as you regarded him with a calculating gaze. “Fine. Though if you’re so desperate for company, then you tell me something interesting. Junior.”

Barty blinked, not having expected you to actually engage. His grin grew and he felt pride bloom in your chest as you began to sport your own.

"Oh, I'll tell you anything you want, if it'll keep your attention on me, Treasure."

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:04」 — y.jeonghan

» seventeen menu | jeonghan menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ oni!Jeonghan × fem!Reader wc: 5.3k summary: Speed dating never was Y/N’s thing but lucky for her, she just so happened to meet someone worthwhile. He asked her on a proper date which developed into a relationship. After a regular date night, Jeonghan asks Y/N if he can try something new in the bedroom. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food/drink consumption, coffee; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to the reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this one was going to be much different but sometimes, the story writes itself. i don't have much else to say so enjoy this piece for kinktober and hbd to Jeonghan! thank you for reading! the next part is Mingyu so stick around for that! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), deepthroating (f receiving), bulge kink, use of pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, etc), unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral (m receiving), Jeonghan has a huge d!ck, and I think I got all of it but of course, tell me if I missed any. kinks: Bulge kink + deepthroatingdialogue prompt: ❛❛ I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet. ❜❜

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Dating in this day and age had always been difficult for you. 

When your friend, Voxx, first suggested speed dating, you laughed it off as a ridiculous notion, not wanting to resort to something you deemed so impersonal. Your friend reassured you that it wasn’t that bad and that they had met their partner during a speed date. 

“No, I get that,” you said as you leaned back against their couch, a glass of wine in your hand as they sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I didn’t put much stock in meeting someone on a speed date but Michael has been great and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “Besides,” Voxx continued after taking a sip of their own glass. “How else do you expect to meet anyone? You never approach anyone at the bar, you hardly speak to anyone outside our friend group except for your coworkers,” they added, giving you a knowing look. You narrowed your eyes before lowering your gaze to your glass.

“You have a point.” 

Voxx smirked, taking another sip of wine. “It’s really not that bad and if you do get someone truly awful, you don’t have to worry about being stuck with them for very long,” they explained. “You only get a few minutes, maybe ten at most.” You nodded silently as you turned their words over in your head.

“Come on,” your friend whined. “You never know who you might meet!”

You sighed, looking up from your glass. “Fine,” you said when you saw the pleading look in their eyes. “I will attend but if it ends disastrously, I’m blaming you,” you added, pointing at them before downing the rest of your wine right as the timer on the oven went off, signaling dinner was ready and it was time for more wine.

Voxx promised to sign you up for the event, taking care of everything but sending the questionnaire for you to look over and fill out. You emailed it back to the event coordinator who was beyond excited that you were attending. Your friend told you they often hosted these events and was always this ecstatic.

The night of the event, you raided your closet, settling on a simple cream colored blouse with a small keyhole cut just above the bust. You paired it with a dark brown skirt, nude colored stockings, and a pair of stylish but comfortable heels in case you would be doing a lot of standing or walking. Grabbing your beige long wool coat to brave the elements, you were ready.

It was a Saturday afternoon which is why you chose to dress in the color palette you did. An evening event would have seen you in a much more extravagant cocktail dress and your red bottom heels you saved for special occasions.

You took the train into the city, getting off at the appropriate stop and making your way to the address provided by the coordinator which turned out to be a bookstore and cafe. You entered through the front door, greeting the cashier who then pointed you to the private room in the back. The main room of the coffee shop was rather large with couches, arm chairs, and tables placed throughout the shop. 

Every wall that didn’t have a window or doorway had a bookshelf lined with books, all separated by genre and organized by author name. It was very organized and tidy. You walked through the open doorway into another, smaller room with love seats, coffee tables, armchairs with a small end table between them. It was the perfect set up and away from prying eyes.

You saw that you were one of the first participants to show up and caught the eye of the coordinator. You only knew who she was because of the picture your friend had shown you. She walked over, smiling warmly at you as she approached. “You must be Y/N,” she said, holding your hand out. Up close, you noticed she had striking red eyes, pointed fangs, and her nails were unusually long and sharp.

As you took her hand, you felt her skin was cold to the touch and it dawned on you that you were now face to face with a vampire. “Uh,” you said, realizing she was waiting for you to answer. “Yes. I’m Y/N,” you replied. She smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Lucia,” she said. 

You thanked her, forcing a smile as you shook hands. “We’re waiting for the rest of the participants to show up but if you’d like to go grab a coffee and browse the books, feel free. We don’t start for another twenty minutes,” she added, pulling out a pocket watch — because of course she did — to check the time. You thanked her once more, looking past her at the other people in the room.

You noticed nonhuman features, inhuman eye and hair colors but also some that looked entirely ordinary. As you walked out of the room to go up to the counter, you saw a woman sporting yellow eyes with vertical slits and bits of scaly skin peeking out from under her hairline, you realized what you’d signed up for, letting out a small groan of frustration.

You quickly composed yourself as you approached the counter and ordered a simple caramel macchiato, paying and stepping aside to pay. As you waited, you pulled out your phone, shooting a quick text to Voxx, conveying your frustration.

You: YOU SIGNED ME UP FOR A MONSTER LOVERS SPEED DATING EVENT?!

Voxx’s response was instantaneous.

Voxx: I thought you might like to give it a try since your track record with humans hasn’t exactly been that great. You: a heads up would have been nice 😒 Voxx: if I had told you it was a monster lover speed dating event beforehand, would you have still gone? You: …no Voxx: exactly. Now stop texting me, put your phone on silent and enjoy the event! (:

You grumbled to yourself as you did just that, putting your phone on silent and slipping it into your pocket as the barista called out your name, setting your coffee on the counter. With your macchiato in hand, you perused the bookshelves, finding several old novels, settling on grabbing one of your favorites, Carmilla. 

With the book in hand, you returned to the back private room, moving to sit in one of the armchairs while you waited for the rest of the participants to arrive. Among the ones you'd already seen there were a couple more newer faces.

You kept count as the room slowly filled until there were a total of 19 bodies not including the hostess. There were 10 humans including yourself and 9 humanoids ranging from demons to reptilians and you were sure there was even the odd werecreature. The numbers were uneven though, which you thought odd unless there was meant to be one person without a match each round.

You saw Lucia look around and check her pocket watch once more before getting up and moving to the front of the room. She cleared her throat before smiling, looking around at the guests.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “And welcome to the annual Unconventional Couple's Speed Dating Event.” A light, scattered applause rang throughout the room, soft but noticeable. 

“Each year, my partner and I host this event to help humans and non-humans come together and meet in a safe environment without the judgment of others,” Lucia explained in a clear calm voice, her warm smile ever present on her lips.

“My partner, Greg, and I met 9 years ago by sheer coincidence and it was practically love at first sight. We decided after being together for four years that we wanted to help others like us meet and potentially find their match.”

As you sipped your coffee, you listened to Lucia's speech. It wasn't as if you were uninterested in dating a monster, it just wasn't something you'd put much thought into before. 

A loud bang rang out, making you jump in your seat along with several others and you turned your head in the direction of the sound to see a tall, and rather attractive, man bent over, nursing his knee. He'd run into one of the end tables by the door upon entering.

He looked up, his paint expression melting instantly when he realized he had all eyes in the room on him. He stood up straight, grimacing as he walked further into the room. “Sorry,” he whispered, moving quickly to take the empty armchair by yours.

Several of the others sent icy glares in his direction before returning their attention back to Lucia who started to speak again, going over the rules of the event. Your attention waned as the man in the armchair next to you shifted in his seat.

“If looks could kill,” he muttered. You threw a glance his way, noticing he was staring past you. His eyes shifted, meeting yours and you knew instantly, he was not a regular man.

He had brown eyes that seemed to glow slightly which bordered on uncanny territory for you. From this close proximity, you could see that he was even more attractive than you previously thought.

He had a medium golden skin tone with reddish brown hair, strands falling into his eyes. From between strands of hair, two small dark brown horns peeked out, the tips rounded into nubs.

He wore a white button down under a caramel colored sweater with dark brown fitted pleated pants and black oxfords. Over the entire ensemble, he wore a light cream colored long coat with brown buttons and a sash that hung untied.

He nodded pointedly past you, bringing you back to reality. You turned, following his gaze to find a pair of icy blue eyes staring at the two of you before turning away to look at Lucia. You turned to look at the man once more. His gaze met yours and he smiled, giving you a wink before he turned his attention to the front of the room.

After explaining the rules, Lucia had ten participants, half the humans and half the nonhumans, sit while the remaining half would be the roaming half. It worked out that all humans sitting would be paired with nonhumans and vice versa.

You were lucky enough to be included in the group that was seated, removing your coat and draping it over your seat as Lucia passed out cards with a list of potential questions to ask. You looked over the card, chuckling to yourself at the logo. You read over the questions, rereading them a few times so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the card.

Lucia then explained you would have up to ten minutes with your date before the timer went off. You were the second to last in the rotation of human females. The first nonhuman to sit in the armchair next to you was a werewolf named Liam. He was nice enough but he had some rather interesting ideas about his ideal family that you weren’t entirely on board with.

As he got up and moved to the next station, the man from before sat down, smiling at you as he settled back in the chair. “Well, hello again,” he said softly, grinning broadly at you. “Hi,” you said holding back a chuckle as you set your almost empty macchiato down on the table.

“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier,” he said. “I’m Jeonghan.” You looked up as he held out a hand. You took it, shaking his hand. “Y/N,” you replied. “So uh, tell me Jeonghan,” you started, clearing your throat and glancing at the cards.

“What color would you say best describes your personality?”

Jeonghan’s smile widened as he let out a low laugh. “Color?” he asked. “Maybe a nice deep red. Like a merlot,” he said, smirking at you. “What about you? Any color out there to let me get an idea of who you are?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “Purple,” you answered quickly.

“Purple? Is that like an eggplant or —”

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Like a bright, vibrant, almost neon purple.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows shot up as he looked you over. “Neon purple?” he asked. “You?” You nodded, holding back a smile. “You look more like a baby pink. Pastels,” he said as he straightened up. You laughed to yourself, nodding as you looked down. “You should see me at night,” you replied.

“Is that an invitation?” 

You lifted your head to look at him. His smirk had grown, looking even more mischievous as time went on. You found yourself holding his gaze. His eyes were so beautiful and there was something behind them that drew you in but you couldn’t place it. He was overall mesmerizing.

“We only have like five minutes left,” he said suddenly, drawing you from your trance. “Right, you said, glancing down at the card again. Your mind seemed to go blank whenever he opened his mouth. It was unlike you and an entirely new experience but it was one you were liking.

“What are you most passionate about?” you asked, reading from the card.

“Sex. Next,” Jeonghan answered, making you choke on your spit. He laughed as you picked up your drink and sipped, trying to quell your cough. “I’m kidding,” he added as you managed to subdue your coughing fit. “That was supposed to make you laugh. Not potentially kill you.”

You waved your hand, dismissing his concern. “I’m fine,” you gasped, setting your cup down. “I’m passionate about food,” he said as you regained your composure. “Food?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “I love food. Good food is important to me.”

“Okay,” you said, shifting in your seat to face him properly. “Your friends are coming over for dinner, what are you cooking?” you asked. Jeonghan smiled as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “What friends?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you said, giving in to his teasing. “Do you snore?” Jeonghan asked abruptly,” you looked up at him, alarmed. “What?” you asked. “Do you snore?” he asked again. You stared at him silently for a few minutes before answering. “Only when I’m sick,” you said, looking down at the card once more.

“Do you have any party tricks?”

Your question made Jeonghan laugh loudly. “Take me to dinner first,” he said with a wink. Your cheeks burned as you met his gaze. The line itself was enough to have you flushing but the wink just added an extra amount of cheese to it.

You glanced down once more but Jeonghan leaned forward, grabbing the card out of your hand and sat back as you looked up at him. He crumpled the card in his hand, giving you another mischievous grin. “Ask me something off the top of your head,” he said softly, cocking his head to the right.

Your mind went blank as you stared at him. Being put on the spot like this made you nervous as hell. ‘What could I possibly ask him?’ your mind went reeling as you tried to grasp for something to ask. Jeonghan checked his watch, glancing up at you. He made a soft ticking sound, as if to try and pressure you into asking a random question. One that wasn’t printed on the card.

“I am so sorry,” you said softly. “My mind is completely blank.” Jeonghan chuckled as he set the crumpled up card on the table. “That’s alright,” he said, picking up his coffee and downing the rest of it as the timer went off, signaling that 10 minutes had passed.

You felt your heart sink. You didn’t want the time with him to end. He got up and grabbed his coat before he leaned over as the participants started to move to the next station. “When the next round ends, meet me outside. This is boring as hell and you are most certainly not,” he whispered in your ear before standing up, giving you another wink with a smile before he turned and headed for the last date as your third one sat down. 

The third round wasn’t nearly as entertaining or interesting as Jeonghan had been. He was a shapeshifter named Kai and he was nice, much nicer than Liam, but he was also quite awkward. When the round finally ended, you felt relief wash over you.

Lucia stood at the front of the room, calling for everyone’s attention.

“Now that we’re finished, I’d like you to fill out the back of the card I gave you and write down the names of the participants you’d like to meet again,” she said. “And afterwards, if you’ll stick around, we have a few ice breaker games to get to know everyone a bit more.” 

You looked around as everyone flipped over their cards and started writing. You grabbed your wrinkled one and picked up the pen before writing down one name only: Jeonghan.

Looking up, you saw Jeonghan get up, walk up to Lucia and slip the card into a small box on a table next to her. You saw him briefly exchange words with her before he turned and started for the door. He met your gaze, sending you a wink before he disappeared out the doorway into the main area.

Following your instincts,” you got up and walked up to Lucia. She smiled as you slipped the card into the box. “Are you going to be staying for the ice breaker games?” she asked, sounding hopeful. You forced a smile, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you replied. “I actually had something come up. Family emergency.” Lucia smiled politely. “Of course,” she replied, nodding understandingly.

“Thank you again.” you added. “This was a very informative experience.” You exited the room, returning your book to the shelf and dropping your used mug off at the counter.

Once you were back outside, you looked up and down the sidewalk, hoping to see Jeonghan standing nearby but you didn’t see him anywhere. You felt your heart sink, wondering if you’d taken too long as you continued to look around.

You walked towards the edge of the sidewalk, looking on the opposite side to see if maybe Jeonghan had crossed over. You were getting more and more dejected as you didn’t see him anywhere. You sighed, hoping that Lucia would at least be able to pair you up as you turned and started down the street towards the bus station.

“There you are,” a voice said from behind you. Turning, you saw Jeonghan walking out of the coffee shop and waited as he jogged lightly to catch up. “Thought you had taken off,” he said as he matched your pace, tucking his hands in his coat pockets. You smiled as you walked along. “I thought the same actually,” you said, making him chuckle.

You walked in silence for a few minutes until he skipped ahead, moving to stand in front of you just as you reached the bus stop. “Alright,” he started. “So, I’m sure you wrote my name down. I wrote yours down and only yours,” he added. “So how about we skip the middle and I take you out tonight?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat as a smile spread across your face. “Okay,” you said softly, feeling suddenly shy. Jeonghan snorted. “Well, jeez,” he started jokingly. “Don’t go jumping for joy. Wouldn’t want you to die from excitement.” You laughed, playfully swatting at him. “I’d love to,” you replied.

Jeonghan smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Then let’s not wait for Lucia to do her thing,” he said, unlocking the screen and tapping away. “We can just exchange numbers now.” You quickly pulled your phone out and pulled up a new contact as Jeonghan held out his phone. You exchanged with him, typing in your name and number, adding a purple heart emoji.

When you had your phone back in your hands, you read his contact card. His name had the red ogre emoji next to it with the sunglasses smiley face. You shot him a quick text before pocketing your phone. “So what time were you thinking?” you asked, looking up at him as he checked his phone before slipping it back into his coat pocket.

“How about seven?” he asked. “And if you don’t want me to know where you live, let’s just meet there, yeah?” he asked. You nodded. “Meet where?” you asked. Jeonghan nodded towards your pocket. “I sent you the address. It’s a restaurant I love and I’d like to actually share it with someone.”

You pulled out your phone, looking at the notification. You would look it up later to make sure it was actually a restaurant. You trusted that Lucia would vet all the participants pretty well but you could never be too certain. “So, I’ll see you at seven?” he asked as the bus pulled to the stop.

You pulled out your bus pass as the doors opened, several passengers getting off. “Seven,” you agreed, looking back at him with a smile before getting onto the bus, scanning your pass and taking a seat. You waved at him as he stood on the sidewalk. He waved back, smiling as the bus started to roll forward and soon he was out of view as the bus continued down the street.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and fished it out, checking your messages.

Jeonghan👹😎: you’re really pretty (:

You chuckled as you typed a response back.

You: so are you ;)

Jeonghan’s reply was instant.

Jeonghan👹😎: see you at seven, beautiful

One date with Jeonghan turned into two which turned into a third and after a few weeks, you were dating pretty regularly. Lucia had contacted the both of you a few days after the speed dating event to inform you that you had both selected each other and she passed on your contact details but you already had exchanged them.

Your regular dates turned into something romantic and sexual after a couple months and by the third month, you had agreed to be exclusive. You really liked Jeonghan. He was smart, funny, charming, and a little bit annoying but you liked his teasing.

On the surface, he liked to joke around, tease, and play pranks but under that silly exterior was an extremely caring, loving, and passionate person. You learned on the fourth or fifth date that Jeonghan was an oni. You knew from the start that he wasn’t human but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. If anything, it made him much more alluring and added to his appeal.

You’d never truly considered dating any monsters before but now that you had, you were certain you probably wouldn’t ever date human men again. Your past with dating had been turbulent and rocky to say the least but ever since meeting Jeonghan, things had been so much easier. Your relationship with him seemed to come naturally to the both of you.

In the bedroom, things were beyond amazing. Jeonghan was neither pushy or hasty to make you do anything you didn’t want to. Sex with him was as easy as breathing. All you needed to get into the mood was some playful banter, a few light touches, and some whispered dirty words and you were putty in his hands. He was a skilled lover and you were never left unsatisfied.

After a date night out, you returned to your apartment, inviting Jeonghan in for a moment which you knew would turn into more if you played your cards right. 

“I’m never ordering that again,” Jeonghan said as you giggled, letting him into your apartment as you stood in the doorway. Once the door was shut, you moved to set your purse on the kitchen counter, fishing out your wallet and phone as Jeonghan walked up behind you. You felt his hands on your waist as he pressed into your backside.

“I like this dress on you,” he murmured, lips brushing against your exposed shoulder. “Yeah?” you asked softly, leaning back against him. He hummed in response, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder before you turned around in his hold, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. “I think the only thing that would be better is if you took it off,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer as your lips parted, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You felt his fingers dig into your hips, pulling them flush against his. Pulling back slightly, you smirked as he tried to chase your lips. “Maybe you should take it off,” you whispered, nuzzling his nose. Jeonghan let out a groan, sliding his hand down to cup your ass before moving to pull your thigh up, pressing his clothed crotch into you.

“Bedroom,” he muttered, peppering kisses along your jaw. “Now.”

You did as he demanded, heading for the bedroom with him on your heels. Once inside, you heard the soft click of the door shutting as you turned on the bedside lamps. Jeonghan was on you in an instant, pulling at your dress, kissing your neck, littering your skin with love bites as he guided you towards the bed. “I’d like to try something new tonight,” he whispered between kisses.

His hands unzipped the side of your dress, hands moving up to slide the straps of your dress down your arms and letting the garment fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you in your lingerie and heels. “What’s that?” you asked as you stepped out of your dress, kicking it across the wood floor.

Jeonghan cupped the side of your neck just under your jaw. “Climb onto the bed,” he said softly. You glanced down at your feet. “My heels,” you started. Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Shit, right. Let me handle that.” he said, kneeling down to quickly remove your shoes one at a time. He tossed them aside, ignoring the clatter they made as they bounced across the wood.

“Now, sit on the bed,” he said, gently nudging you. You followed his instruction, sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him as you waited for further instruction. Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips and cupping your cheek.

“You know I absolutely love it when you use your mouth,” he started softly. “And I love the way you do it but I’ve really wanted to fuck your mouth for a while now,” he continued. “I’d really like to try it, if you’ll let me.” You nodded, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand over your face and kissing his palm. “And I promise to reward you,” he added. “Of course,” you answered. “I love trying out new things with you.”

Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. Standing up straight he pulled his tie loose, discarding it on the floor before undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, keeping his eyes on you. He dropped the shirt to the floor, moving his hands to undo the zipper of his pants.

“Here,” you said, reaching out to grab him by the waistband of his pants.

You made quick work of his pants and underwear, pushing them down his thighs, revealing his already hard and leaking cock. You took him in your hand, opening your lips and taking the head into your mouth. Jeonghan let out a throaty groan, one hand moving to the back of your head.

You moved your head, bobbing and taking more and more of his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip hit the back of your throat as he thrust slightly, making a wet gagging sound. You pulled back, waiting a moment before resuming. 

You felt his grip on your head tighten as he pushed you further down. “Just a little more,” he groaned. “I know you can do it, sweetheart.” You obliged him, sinking his cock further into your mouth until you felt the head push into your throat. Jeonghan let out a loud moan, throwing his head back.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he groaned, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. He let out a shaky breath, lowering his gaze to look down at you. The hand on the back of your head moved up to the top, slightly tilting your head back. More of his cock sank into your throat at this angle.

He let out another strained moan as he felt your throat constrict around his cock. He moved his other hand down to your throat, fingers feeling the bulge of his cock in your throat. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “That’s so fucking hot.” He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly.

After a moment, he pushed your head back slowly, his cock slipping out of your throat.

Once freed, you pulled back, gasping as air filled your lungs. “You alright, baby?” he asked, gently caressing your cheek. You nodded, coughing slightly. “You okay to keep going?” he asked, his voice sounded full of concern. Again, you nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “M’Okay.” 

Regardless, Jeonghan gave you a few moments to recover your breath before letting you continue. “If you need to stop, just tap my thigh, okay?” he asked. You nodded, taking his cock in your hand, you stroked him quickly before taking the head back in your mouth, the weight of his cock heavy against your tongue.

Jeonghan’s hips thrusted forward, burying his cock further into your mouth. You removed your hand, moving your hands to his hips as he set a slow, steady pace. You kept your jaw lax, letting him fuck your mouth at his own pace. Each thrust made that same wet gagging sound at the back of your throat, filling the room with nothing but that sound.

His fingers curled into your hair, tightening his grip on your head as he guided you to move into his thrusts. “Fuck,” he groaned. “M’close.” He slowed to a stop, pulling his cock from your mouth. “Up,” Jeonghan ordered, holding his hand out for you to take. He pulled you up onto your feet before turning you to face the bed, pushing you onto it. He removed his pants quickly before cupping your sex.

“Holy shit,” he groaned. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet?” he asked. You whined, wiggling your hips. “Don’t tease me, Hannie.” He chuckled, moving to pull your panties down your thighs. “God, look how fucking wet you are. Fucking soaked,” he growled, fingers swiping through your folds before sinking into your cunt. You let out a moan as he slowly curled his fingers.

“Please, Jeonghan,” you whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

You heard him chuckle as he removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and cleaning them. “You sure you’re ready for me, angel?” You nodded eagerly. “Please,” you whined. “Please. I can take it.”

Jeonghan chuckled again, grabbing the base of his cock and gliding the tip between your folds, gathering your arousal before pushing the head into your slit, the warmth of your cunt welcoming him as he glided in, unrestricted. Each inch filled your walls, stretching you slowly to accommodate his size. “F-fuck,” you gasped as he bottomed out, tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

“So f-full,” you groaned. Jeonghan gave you a harsh thrust, making you cry out sharply. “You really sure you’re ready, my love?” Jeonghan asked, moving his hands to your hips. You nodded once more. “Yes,” you whined, feeling him retract slowly. “Please just fuck m-me!” you gasped as he snapped his hips forward, filling you in one, sharp thrust.

“Oh I plan to,” Jeonghan said softly. “You might wanna hold on, sweetheart,” he added.

“You’re in for a long night.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[avocado-writing]

hi hi! these prompts are so sweet - could I please send you "did you eat today?" + logan? I feel like he was on his own for so long and probably ate like shit (so might be soft when he’s asked if he’s taking care of himself like this?) 💖 thank you so much! Your request drabbles are all so stunning!

it's been a long while since logan was this looked after.

after everything that happened in the mansion he just didn't think he was a person worth receiving any kind of care, especially self-care. no. a man like him deserved to be punished for what he did, and a bottle to his lips every night was his self-flagelation. the years of alcohol put his body through hell, and food? well. it's been a long time since he ate something which didn't come in a greasy wrapper or needed to be nuked in the microwave.

if he were a normal man, no metal in his bones or healing in his genes, he'd be outright dead. as it stands when wade turned up, mentally and physically, he wasn't in great shape.

that is until he met you.

"did you eat today?" is a question he became accustomed to from your sweet little mouth. a concerned friend of wade's met on a lazy afternoon in the apartment, all smiles and soft edges, brow near-permanently creased in worry as you'd asked him when he'd last had a meal (and the answer was usually too long ago to be satisfactory). then without missing a beat you'd get to work feeding him. stealing eggs from wade and al's kitchen to whip him up an omelette, fixing him a sandwich if needs be, once you made a whole damn pie and sat there watching him devour slice after slice.

in fact, it wasn't long before you just started inviting him over for dinner, and then dinner became dinner dates, and then, well. that became him moving in.

your cooking is exceptional. that isn't just him being kind to the person he's sweet on, it's true. he doesn't know how you can put the same slices of bread together he does yet somehow make them taste like they've come from heaven but you do, day after day. just another little miracle from your never-ending supply of them. even now he's still not certain if he's deserving of your attention, your effort, your time, but you won't hear any pushback from him about it. these things are feely given to him, just like your heart is.

he knows what you really mean when you say "have you eaten today?" you mean, "I love you". you mean, "you're a person who's worth caring about."

he wraps his arms around your waist as you stand at the stovetop stirring a homemade stew. the smell drifts upwards and makes his mouth water, spiced beef and fine-diced vegetables never seeming so good. you laugh as he buries his face in your neck.

"you eaten, baby?" you ask.

he hasn't. but he'll get there.

[catscidr]

Hiii I just found your acc and really like your stuff! Can I pls request lazy morning sex with Jing Yuan (and any character you think might fit this prompt) I just looked and there is not one fic like this of this man when he's like... right there. He's like so perfect for this scenario. Thank you sm and have a great day/night! <3

i just finished writing this its 3am i think i blacked out. everybody give it up for my man jing yuan i need himSO BAAAAD AAHHH i hope u like this nonnie ♡♡ cw: nsfw, mdni. semi-clothed sx, soft dom jy, clt stimulation, size kink if you squint, praise, pet names, slight overstimulation, cuddling n fucking face-to-face, riding, creampie. /not proofread ill do that in the morning. dies/ includes: fem reader, jing yuan, fu xuan mentionned wc: 3,2k

You loved and hated waking up next to Jing Yuan in the morning. On one hand, the rhythm of his beating heart lulls you to sleep, and he makes for a wonderful personal heater; but on the other... he’s a little too comfortable. So much so that every time you sleep with him, you, without fail, end up being late for work. That, or you barely make it in time. At times you would point your finger at him and accuse him of being a wholesome, sleepy version of an incubus, and he would laugh in that smooth, baritone voice of his. 

Regardless. 

This morning was one of those mornings, of course. Jing Yuan came back home for the first time in two weeks the night before- being the general of the Luofu means that he would occasionally have to leave for an unknown amount of time to take care of business. Every time he had to leave, you’d linger around him a little longer than usual, wrap your arms around him tighter than you normally would and let your lips linger on his cheek long enough for the sun to rise completely. 

He’d come back so late last night that you were already sleeping in your shared bed, legs haphazardly thrown over the bed sheets in a poor attempt to regulate your body temperature. The button-up shirt you wore made his heart lunge in his throat in the best way, but the last thing he wanted was to wake you. So, he’d carefully remove his armored uniform, take his shirt off and slip into the bed with you with nothing but his briefs on, and pull you into his chest. You had unconsciously nuzzled closer to him, your body craving the warmth of his body you had missed oh so dearly. 

Which explained the situation you were now in. The dilemma you found yourself stuck in. Jing Yuan was back; you had your face mere millimeters away from his plush chest, his arms held you tight against him, and his soft snores almost convinced you to fall back asleep. Keyword; almost. 

As much as you loved him you knew that he’d be here once you came back from work, so with as much resolve as you could muster, you try wriggling your way out of his grip. With him being as big as he was, though, it didn’t surprise you when he tightened his hold on you, treating you as if you were his plushie threatening to fall off his bed and he was a child.

You let out a quiet oof from his strong grip and reevaluate your options. There weren’t many options, but at least you had choices; either you wake him up, convince him to let you go and then get to work early enough that you don’t risk getting written up again, or you let him hold you and... arrive at work late. Again. Which was the last thing you wanted, given the fact that your boss had specifically told you that she couldn’t allow you to miss another meeting. 

Step one was to summon the ability to be even more stubborn than your lover. Step two is to carefully wriggle your arms up, high enough that you can move your hands and you can use them to your advantage against the beast. It took you some time, given the fact that they were stuck between his and your body, but you succeeded, nonetheless. And you only got one displeased grunt from the sleeping general in response. 

As you’re about to proceed with step three, Jing Yuan cracks an eye open and buries his head into the crook of your neck while curling into you, effectively trapping you between his plush muscles and the duvet. 

Could have gone better. 

“Jing Yuan,” you huff, your voice sounding more like a whine than anything. The general doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he fell asleep again, but his morning voice graces your ears before you have the time to curse him out. “Mhm, I’m up,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck in a false apology. 

You wriggle in response, grunting from the sheer effort. One of the downsides that came with cuddling with Jing Yuan was the way he could keep you right there with him as long as he wanted, curse his strength. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to budge, you decide that two can play that game. You stare into his silky mop of silver hair, pondering whether you should negotiate your freedom or if you should play dirty- but where's the fun in trying to talk your way out of this predicament? You bring a hand up to gently brush his bangs away from his face. He makes a soft noise of contentment at the feeling of your fingers delicately brushing against his face and, before he can grow too comfortable, you lean in and bite his cheek. 

The general makes a noise of surprise, grunting as he pulls away from you to narrow his eyes at his perpetrator. His pout morphs into a lazy smile as he holds your glare. “If you wanted to play you could have just said so, sweetheart,” he says lowly, moving his free hand from your back to letting it rest lazily on your hips, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the exposed skin. 

You stick your tongue out at him stubbornly, “Not now, I have to get up.” Unfazed by your headstrong attitude, Jing Yuan shifts one of his legs to come between yours- his strong thigh sandwiched between your soft ones. A surprised gasp leaves your lips in response to the smooth way he molds his body to yours, but you refuse to allow yourself to be swayed by him. 

“Aeons- ‘Yuan please,” you huff quietly, but he notices the way your voice catches in your throat. His golden eyes briefly shine with what could only be described as mischief and, with a smooth motion, Jing Yuan grabs ahold of your shoulder and swivels you around so that your back is against his chest. A surprised oof rips from your throat as you bounce lightly on the bed from the impact- he lowers his face to yours, a rich, deep chuckle echoing in your ears as your resolve begins to melt away. 

Taking advantage of the new position, Jing Yuan throws a leg over yours to trap you in and, in turn, grinds his growing bulge against your ass. If he wasn’t hard at the sight of your face in the morning when he first woke up, he sure was now; while he slowly ruts against you, he allows his hands to wander down to the hem of your shirt. 

You stifle a moan as the metaphorical dam in your head begins to crumble apart. Sure, you would see him when you would get back home later, but you were with him now. Laying here with your lover, safe and comfortable in his arms while his clothed erection lazily thrusts up into your heat. 

As you let out needy whines that you aren’t even aware you’re voicing, Jing Yuan brings his lips closer to your ear. “Five more minutes?” he asks with a knowing smile, his own breath becoming more and more rugged the more he rubs up against you. Gods, he could feel you throbbing through his sweatpants and your panties. 

You swallow thickly and whine in response, your head already fogging up with desire. Going a whole two weeks without sex wasn’t particularly hard; you had your trusty toy with you and your hands if it happened to run out of battery and you were that desperate. But you weren’t- and during these past two weeks you had felt just fine, totally not pent up or even the slightest bit sexually frustrated. Your job had kept you busy, but when you’re stuck in Jing Yuan’s arms after not feeling him for so long, after not feeling his cock twitching inside you, you felt like something snapped inside you.

Distantly, you think about how pathetic this must look for him; only a few lingering touches and his hips pressing up against yours from the back and that’s all it takes for you to drench your panties. But really, you couldn’t care less. You knew he was just as pent up as you were. 

You bring one of your hands down to fumble with the hem of your panties to quickly take them off, down your legs. Hearing Jing Yuan’s hoarse breathing in your ears only made you even more eager to feel his skin right up against yours. Maybe part of the reason why you were so incredibly turned on was because of how tired you still felt, but either way, you needed him. And he needed you just as badly. 

The general’s hands leave you temporarily to slide his sweatpants down to his thighs, low enough for his cock to leave its confines. Precum builds at the tip, swollen and pulsing with the need to bury itself inside you. He sighs, one of his hands coming up to stroke his length, thumb sliding over the slit every time his fist comes up. You whine at the loss of his hands on you and reach back to take his hand, bringing it between your legs to rub your clit. He laughs at your impatience, shifting his weight on his other arm to lean over you properly. 

“Someone’s impatient and greedy,” he goads. “I thought you wanted to get to work, darling,” he purrs in your ear, his middle and ring finger coming together to tease your bud, riling you up further and making a mess between your legs. A strained fuck leaves your lips as you back your ass up into him, his hard cock tucked between your thighs, rubbing into your arousal. “Please just-” a whimper interrupts you as Jing Yuan increases the pace of his fingers, “-inside. I-I need to feel you,” you huff, feeling too empty. He considers teasing you some more, listening to the wet sounds of your pussy bounce off the walls of your shared bedroom, but his own patience was also waning thin. 

A quiet noise of protest leaves you when the man takes his hand away from your bud. He brings his fingers up to his lips to lick your slick off of them, moaning at the taste. Your thighs clench in response, jerking the general’s cock unintentionally. 

“Fuck,” he growls into your ear, hurriedly taking his length into his hand to guide it into your soaking wet cunt. Your mouth hangs open when you feel his tip slip between your lips, needy noises slipping from your mouth. Inch after inch he sinks into you, slowly letting you accommodate to his girth. He finally bottoms out, stretching your hole as you keen and whine from the satisfaction of feeling so full. 

He waits a few beats to allow you to get used to him, your hoarse breathing matching his own. When he feels you clamping down on him less, he starts to thrust- pulling out slowly and thrusting back in sharply. You moan aloud, mouth agape as his cock bullies your spongy walls relentlessly. 

“Jing Yua-aan,” you whimper, hands gripping onto his forearms weakly, nails forming crescent shapes into his skin. He reduces you to a sleepy, blabbering, moaning mess as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the bedroom. With one hand splayed across your lower tummy, he presses down, making you arch your back into him from the sudden added pressure and pleasure. 

“Y’ like that? You missed me, huh?” he taunts, though his own voice trails off into a needy moan the more he feels the drag of your walls along his cock. “I know I’ve- fuck, m-missed you,” Jing Yuan stutters, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he feels a familiar coil form in his abdomen. His thigh muscles clench as he wills away his orgasm, needing to feel you all around him for a bit longer. 

Unable to respond you simply nod dumbly, the words leaving your brain as it’s reduced to mush. Your lover hums, a smirk stretching his lips, “Yeah?” He brings his face closer to yours, your breaths tangling with each other before he smashes his lips against yours, the angle awkward and uncomfortable. But you don’t care- the added stimulation makes you melt as you crane your head back to kiss him properly, your lips occasionally leaving his from the force of his thrusts. 

Jing Yuan moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss. He looks at you with pure lust swirling in his golden eyes, your face sinful and needy. An idea pops up in the general’s mind and he smiles down at you, pressing one last chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Ah, w-what are you-” you slur, your sentence interrupted by the general manhandling you to switch positions. He kicks the sheets off completely and places both of his large hands on your waist, gripping you firmly as he lays on his back, placing you on top him. His cock slips out of your walls with a wet shlick and you whine at the feeling of being so suddenly empty, twisting your body so that your thighs straddle his hips. Jing Yuan looks up at you with a small, cat-like smirk and your breath catches in your throat. 

His silky hair splayed out on the pillows beneath him, cheeks flushed, and eyes piercing into yours made your knees buckle and you suddenly froze in your movements. Feeling your pussy throb against him, Jing Yuan chuckles heartily, one of his hands leaving your waist to stroke his hard cock, your slick dripping down on him. 

“Lift your hips up and sit on my cock, darling,” he orders softly, a stark contrast to the way he looks at you- with pure, unfiltered lust and adoration. Your body moves automatically as you obey, hovering your tight pussy over his swollen tip, and lower yourself down. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and you feel his girth stretching you out again as you begin to bounce on his hard cock. 

“Yeahh just like that,” he hums, the hand that held his length moving up to rest on your stomach, thumb jutting out to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit. You squeak in surprise, your body jolting forward, and place your hands over his plush chest for balance. “Feels good, baby? Feel how deep my cock is?” 

A moan leaves his kiss-bitten lips and you swear you physically felt yourself get pushed closer to your nearing orgasm, the noises leaving his lips amplifying your pleasure tenfold. “Taking me so well, look at that pretty pussy,” he coos, and you keen as his half-lidded eyes burn into yours. He feels your walls clench in response to the praise and flashes you a dangerous smirk; he places his feet flat on the bed and tightens his grip on your waist to buck his hips up, making you topple over him. Your gaze is unfocused and blurry as you look down at him, heavy breaths leaving your lips, tears threatening to roll down your rosy cheeks from the pace he set. 

“And look at you,” he whispers lovingly under his breath. Jing Yuan throws his head back deeper into the pillows, keeping his eyes on you as he watches you lose yourself to the addicting feeling of his cock bullying your sopping cunt. “Y-Yuan,” you whine, your climax threatening to rip through you as you bite your lip to stifle your needy moans. He tuts, leaning up to bite your lip to pull you out of your pleasure-filled daze. 

“Pay attention to me darling. Thaat’s it, let 'em out for me.” The general huffs, brows furrowing in concentration to focus on the feeling of your warm walls surrounding him, sucking him in endlessly. His thumb presses down onto your clit roughly to bring you closer to your orgasm; you whimper in turn, a chorus of oh fuck and please’s leaving your puffy lips. “I-I’m so close,” you whine, eyelids fluttering shut as you feel your control leaving your body, the tight coil of your orgasm threatening to snap. 

Jing Yuan groans, hips bucking up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he keeps up the pace, persistent. “Come on, give it to me, pretty girl.” He coos, voice breaking into a whine, close to climaxing himself. His thrusts become sloppier, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle a string of hearty, needy moans. 

His hips still up into you as he cums, thick ropes of his seed painting your walls white. Jing Yuan’s thumb flicks your puffy clit until you climax as well, your cunt milking his sensitive cock. You whimper, feeling your clit buzz with overstimulation as he keeps rubbing it with purpose. “S-Stop, stooop,” you cry, your eyes burning with tears as the dull pain turns into pleasure, “Aeons you’re so tight.” Your lover slows down his movements, easing the tension in his muscles, until he stops circling your clit and gently places both of his hands on your waist. His hands slide up and down your sweaty skin, soothing the bruises that will inevitably form.

Your body slumps, exhausted and utterly spent, arms caging him as you rest your face in the crook of his neck. You both feel sticky and sweaty, but the warmth you shared made up for the need to jump in the shower to wash yourselves off. Jing Yuan shifts his hips so that his softening cock slips out of you; he inhales sharply, his cock still sensitive. 

“I missed you,” you mumble quietly, voice muffled from the way you're pressed into him and the pillows and press a chaste kiss to his neck. “Yeah? I never would have guessed,” the general chuckles, arms coming up to hug you tightly, one hand placed behind your head to cradle you close to him. You hit him with a huff but then sigh, content. 

“Mmh, but I missed you too, darling,” Jing Yuan replies softly. He holds you as your eyes droop, exhaustion taking ahold of your tired body. His own eyelids droop as he listens to your soft heartbeat, and soon enough, you’re both sleeping, legs tangled together while Jing Yuan’s strong arms keep you laid atop of him. 

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you hear a phone ringing loudly in your ear, jolting you away from your peaceful dreams. You don’t recognize the tune, and as you’re about to wriggle your way out of the dozing general’s arms, he swings one arm over to the nightstand next to your bed and answers it without looking at the caller ID. “Jing Yuan speaking,” he says in a hoarse voice, eyes still closed. 

Even without his phone on speaker you could make out a very loud, very shrill voice from the other side of the line, yelling out two hours late, a single mission and get your ass over here. Jing Yuan doesn’t react, the same sleepy, cat-like smile on his face as he listens to the person rant. They eventually let up and hang up, saying something you couldn’t quite catch. Your lover haphazardly tosses his phone somewhere on the bed and loops his arm back around you, nuzzling into your neck. 

“Who was that?” you ask, voice cracking from how much you abused your vocal cords (apparently) two hours ago. He scoffs, amused, and pulls away just enough to speak clearly. 

“Lady Fu Xuan,” he says slyly. “I should get dressed before she decides to read into my divination and sees things she probably shouldn’t.”

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Hot Daddy

Prompt Day 23: Hot Chocolate | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Mild Use of "Daddy" | Tags: AU, Meet Cute, Single Dad Steve, Platonic Stobin

"Hot chocolate?" 

Eddie's startled from his thoughts, looking to see where the unexpected question came from. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, off in his own world, as Wayne would say. Well, he says that, and that Eddie's lucky he doesn't accidentally walk into traffic.

Which, true. It has happened a time or two. But what Wayne doesn't know won't hurt him.

Locating the voice that had spoken is interesting, because Eddie was not expecting to look down, or expecting a hot man next to a table full of little girls clearing running a fundraiser. There's a little girl looking up at him expectantly, and she must have been the one that asked.

Hot guy's hand is resting on her shoulder protectively, and she must be his daughter, since she's his little doppelganger.

The guy is eyeing him, and Eddie knows he looks scarier than he actually is, so he smiles, trying to look less intimidating. At least the girl isn't scared of him, it seems. Not his tattoos, not his piercings, not his heavy leather and attitude.

"Hi, sir!" She says, all chipper, like it isn't freezing cold, "We're selling hot chocolate and cookies to help pay for camp."

It's a script, and a little stilted, but she's got the spirit, that's for sure. And he hasn't been called sir in, well, ever, maybe.

"Of course," he says, and shifts his duffle bag to his other arm so he can reach for his wallet.

The little handwritten sign has their pricing, which he is certain is too low, and he fishes out a ten dollar bill, handing it over.

"Keep the change," he says, and the girls squeal and jump up and down. 

The man finally grins, like Eddie's won him over, just a little. 

Suddenly, there's several girls wanting to be involved in the translation, handing him a sack of cookies, napkins, as hot dad pours hot chocolate out of a stainless steel dispenser.

"Marshmallows?" he asks, and Eddie grins.

"You know it."

He shakes some into Eddie's cup, then a few more as he meets Eddie's eyes and winks, then hands it over.

"Thank you," Eddie says, and he could look into those golden eyes all day. He'd love to see them in the daylight. He bets they are so warm.

"Thanks for supporting the cause," the pretty-eyed hot dad says, and Eddie takes one more long look at him before walking away.

It's good hot chocolate and great cookies. He's impressed. 

The table isn't there the next night, or the few after, and Eddie feels a little bummed out that he missed his opportunity to flirt a little, feel him out.

He wasn't wearing a ring.

Eddie's certain of that. He looked. He also knows no ring isn't the end all and be all, some people just don't wear them, but no ring means that he might have had a chance. And a chance is all he needs.

So, he was hoping they'd be back now that it is the weekend again, but no luck.

"Why so mopey?" Robin asks, and Eddie turns to look at her. 

"I saw a guy on the sidewalk, and I hoped he'd be back on the street corner tonight–"

"Eddie!"

"–but maybe it was just a weekend thing?" Eddie ponders.

"Eddie, are you trying to hire a prostitute?" she asks, eyes huge.

"What? No!" He throws back his head and laughs, "He was a perfectly respectable man! With a little girl!" 

She raises an eyebrow.

"His daughter!"

Eddie's just digging a deeper and deeper hole as she laughs at him.

"I'm not following," she says, leaning on the counter of the music store. She started about two months ago, and so far, he likes her.

"There was a booth of kids doing a fundraiser. The dad that was supervising was hot."

She laughs at him, but it doesn't seem mean. Then her face changes, "When was this? What'd he look like?"

"Last Friday. Good hair. My height? I don't know. A real pretty dude."

"Swoopy hair?" she asks.

"What's swoopy hair?" he asks, and she makes a motion with her hands, and well, maybe?

"Yeah, maybe," he says, as if the image of this guy hasn't been burned into his retinas.

Then, he really hears what she's been asking:

"Robin. Robin Buckley. Do you know hot daddy?"

"Ew, no. Never say that to me again."

"Sorry," he mutters, feeling chided. 

"Steve–" she starts, and he really, really doesn't want to hear about her Bobbsey Twin of a best friend Steve right now. He feels like he knows more about Steve than he knows about Robin, which is crazy for someone he's never met.

"Robin. No more Steve stories," he says, resting his forehead against the counter, banging it slightly.

Steve's a teacher. Steve's a coach. Steve played sports in college. Steve could have gone pro. Steve's a single dad. Steve's the best.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

He doesn't have the brainpower to deal with the Legend of Steve right now.

"Eddie–"

"Robin!" he interrupts. 

"Fine. Don't let me talk," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

And it's finally, blissfully, silent. At least for a few minutes.

Eddie's behind the counter when the bell over the door jingles. He looks up, and – hot daddy.

Robin elbows him in the ribs, "I told you never to say that again!"

"I didn't know I did!" he yelps.

She laughs, "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"You're Steve?" Eddie asks, and he knows his cheeks are red.

"The one and only," Steve says, and Eddie really wishes he'd paid better attention when Robin talked about him now. If wishes were horses, indeed.

Steve's holding two to-go cups, and leans up against the counter, handing one over to Eddie, not Robin. 

Eddie takes it, dumbly. It's hot chocolate, and Eddie looks down at it:

555-0083 Call me Hot Daddy

Steve winks, and turns and walks back out.

Eddie's gonna kill Robin.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

Notes: Punctuation is important, Steve. Should Eddie call you on the phone - or call you hot daddy. Decisions, decisions. Why not both? 🤣

[shotoh]

— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[rekino2114]

Gifting the chainsaw man girls a plushie of themselves

A/n: I'm still on vacation and wanted to do a smaller post while i'm free so i saw this prompt around and thought it was adorable, I'll probably do it with more fandoms let me know if you wanna see it

Makima

Thinks it's amazing and will treasure it forever, she specific keeps it on a shelf in her office (most of her subordinates are very confused to see it just sitting there around the paperwork)

She will 100% give you a plushie of yourself to repay you

Might ask you for a pochita plushie to replace the real one since she doesn't want it anymore.

"Oh, It's adorable darling you're so talented, how about I make you one of yourself to match?"

Power

She is confused at first and asks what power (lol) you used to make a mini her but quickly grows to love it.

It's soft and cuddly just like meowy whenever you're not near her you can bet she'll be cuddling those two things to fall asleep.

Definitely brags about it to denji and aki. Where are their small and fluffy versions of them uh?

"*gasp* is that an idol of the great power? Very well I will accept this. T-thank you"

Himeno

Thinks it's the cutest thing ever and immediately hugs you and peppers you In kisses as thanks

Will always keep it on her shoulder or in view in general hoping that someone asks her about it so she can start ranting about how wonderful her partner is

You have found her multiple times passed out drunk hugging the plushie and mumbling about how much she loves you

"Oh my God! Is that me? Thanks so much it's soooo cute, well not as cute as the original of course~"

Kobeni higashiyama

An incredibly blushy mess whenever you give her the plushie but thinks it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her.

It kinda becomes a comforter for her. Whenever she's more nervous or sad than usual, she hugs the plushie and thinks of you, and it makes her feel at least a bit better

She feels kinda bad about not giving you anything back so she'll probably save the small amount of money she has to buy you a plushie you like.

"O-oh, that's really cute. w-wait, is that m-me? I love it a lot. Thank you so so much"

Quanxi (and her harem)

You immediately got tackled in a hug by 4 of your girlfriends when you showed them plushies of every one of them, quanxi just looked at hers for a while before smiling and joining the group hug

Might genuinely stab someone if they say anything remotely negative about the plushie

She works hard with her girlfriends to make you a plushie of yourself since they thought it wasn't fair that you were the only one in the relationship without one.

"Eh, it really does look like me, you did an amazing job on the girls too, don't worry I'll keep it close at all times"

Asa mitaka

Genuinely can't fathom that you would put effort into making something so cute of her out of everyone and the fact that you gifted her that makes her fall in love with you even more

Always keeps it with her mostly in her bag at school, similarly to kobeni it helps calm her down whenever she's having a bad day, it's a reminder that there is someone willing to love her this much

Yoru once tried to draw the scars on it to make it a plushie of her (just to mess with asa) but thankfully she took control in time

"Wait, seriously? That's....for me? Wow, i- I don't know what to say. Just thank you so much"

Yoru

Acts like she doesn't care that much but actually thinks it's really cute, asa often wakes up finding herself hugging it, courtesy of yoru not being able to sleep without it and taking over during the night.

Definitely brags to asa about it (not realizing it's technically a plushie of both of them)

Might ask you to add some weapons to the plushie to make it more interesting

"Hm? What's that? a plushie? I guess it does kinda resemble me, thanks it is kinda nice"

Fami

She might seem as indifferent as usual but genuinely loves the gesture and thinks it's adorable

She brings it with her whenever she eats (which is most of the time) she even puts a little bib on it, it's really cute to watch

Feels really bad when she gets it dirty (mostly when she's eating) so she'll try cleaning it even if she has no idea how

"I see, so it's a plushie of me. How cute. Thank you, you did a great job"

[ssentimentals]

hey i wanted to request soft promt 37 with lando... idk its just really lando coded

i love you forever for sending me f1 prompts!! 💜 and it IS lando coded, thank you for requesting and i hope you'll like it!

fluff prompt: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando adjusts his jacket for the third time, ignoring carlos and his pointedly amused stare. he obviously has it easy - his girlfriend is right next to him and they both are sickeningly in love with each other, so it's not like he has to woo her with his appereance. unlike lando, who is very much single and has a job to woo you with his appereance. shit, does he have time to go back and change?

'cabron, you're overthinking this,' carlos says in attempt to calm him down. 'you look fine, i promise i wouldn't have set you up on a double date if i weren't sure that she likes you back.'

just the thought that carlos might be right, that you actually might lando back is enough to perk him up. carlos is not that cruel to joke about stuff like this and lando is...well, hopeful. his hope rise further when rebecca softly says that you two would make a great couple. he honestly can't agree more; his imagination painted that picture too many times in his mind of you two being together. god, you'd be so good to each other, he knows. he knows all of this, so he has no idea why he starts acting like an idiot when you turn up.

'this looks suspiciously like a double date from the outside,' you murmur, sliding up to the booth next to him, watching as carlos and rebecca argue about the drinks.

you look beautiful. stunning, really. which is what he is supposed to say but instead what comes from his mouth is: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando is ready to hit his head on the table, but then you laugh and oh. he is okay with being an idiot if it makes you laugh like that. he likes your laugh, like your smile. lando likes so many things about you, it's getting ridicilous how he has such a hard time articulating all of it to you.

'you two look cute,' carlos comments offhandedly.

'oh, do we?' you ask, turning to lando, smiling. 'not as cute as you two though.'

'we are cuter than them.' lando argues, when food arrives. 'how can you lie to them?'

he likes making you laugh. lando is sure that he looks like a lovesick puppy, but my god, if making you laugh was a job, he'd apply for it and stay in this position for as long as you'll have him. your eyes shine bright when you turn to him, sitting as close as this little booth allows you to. 'that's very confident,' you comment, chuckling. 'but we gotta let them win this one, lan. they are together, afterall.'

lando blinks. he can be such an idiot, but he surely can't miss this chance, right? 'then we should get together too,' he says quietly even though both carlos and rebecca are busy slow dancing on the dance floor. 'so we can win this argument.'

there's a pause when you try to gauge his reaction, to understand whether he's being real or not. lando just stares at you with all of the emotions written clearly on his face for you to see. 'just for the sake of winning this argument?' you ask at last, more serious but still smiling.

'for winning this life.' lando lets out and cringes at the same second, making you howl with laughter.

'oh my god, that was horrible!' you squeak, leaning on him, laughing.

'i can't believe i said that as well,' lando mutters, shy, but happily wrapping one arm around your shoulders. 'cringed so hard.'

'okay, lando norris.' you lean back, still laughing. 'okay. am i correct in assumption that you imply us being together will mean that we're winning this life?' lando nods, biting his lower lip. you smile softly, taking his hand in yours. 'i agree, then.'

lando fears his heart stopped. 'yeah?'

you lean in, brushing his nose with his. 'yeah.'

nevermind, his heart is fine. it's beating again, stronger than ever.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[nahoney22]

Omg congrats on so many followers! That's so amazing and so well deserved! Might I request Echo and Female reader and the sort of prompt is kissing as a disguise? (It can absolutely get a bit spicy too fyi :0) Oh also can reader just be someone who has been with the batch long enough to be familiar with them and such? Thank you!!! x <3

Kiss Me Quick*** 🌊

🫧 pairing: Echo X Female!Reader

word count: 2.7k

prompts: none

When you and Echo pair up to track a missing shipment for Cid, you both didn’t anticipate that it would end with you two finding somewhere to be alone.

warnings: Light NSFW, 17+ only, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating Trope, Steamy Kisses, Neck Kisses and Bites, Touchy-feely, Minor Alcohol Consumption, Reader Wearing a Dress.

a/n: sorry for the wait @mezmatch, enjoy 🫧

“What does she want now?” you muttered, a familiar mix of irritation and reluctance bubbling up.

All you wanted was a rare day of relaxation, but fate, also known as Cid, had other plans.

“Probably to do her dirty work for very little credit,” Echo sighed, shaking his head in agreement.

After taking a moment to mentally prepare, you stepped into Cid’s cluttered office. The Trandoshan greeted you with her usual disdain, referring to you as ‘grumps’ and Echo as ‘killjoy’.

When you asked for details, she waved you off dismissively and activated the console in the center of her office. A large hologram of a notorious crime lord flickered to life. Cid began outlining the mission: gathering information on a shipment of weapons for a mysterious client. But you sensed there was more to it than she was letting on. There always was.

“This is a two-person job, and you two are the perfect candidates,” Cid announced, moving around her desk to take a seat. Her large claws tapped rhythmically across the surface. “And you two lovebirds get to dress up.”

“Could you not get—wait, what? Lovebirds?” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Echo, who looked equally confused, albeit slightly more flustered.

Cid smirked, looking between the two of you. “Omega said you two were a thing.”

“No, we are not a ‘thing,’” Echo said, using air quotes and shaking his head. “But more to the point, what do you mean by dress up?”

“Don’t worry,” Cid said, her smirk widening. “Bolo and Ketch are on it.”

You folded your arms and stared down at Cid. “I don’t think taking fashion advice from those two is a great idea.”

Cid shrugged casually, waving you both off. “Don’t worry about it. Now, get out.”

Relieved, you left the office with the door hissing shut behind you. “Well, this could be interesting,” you sighed.

Echo agreed with a small mumble, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, why do you think Omega said that about us?”

“You know what she’s like,” you chuckled, not thinking too much into it. “She sees Hunter speaking to literally anyone and asks me if I think Hunter fancies them. She’s trying to play matchmaker.”

“Fair point,” Echo chuckled, but your conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of bickering. Bolo and Ketch entered the parlor, making a beeline straight to you both.

What had Cid gotten you into now?

That evening, the Marauder settled into hyperspace as you and Echo dressed in the outfits Cid’s regulars had picked out for you. Surprisingly, they hadn’t done too bad.

You slipped into a sleek, form-fitting dress in deep sapphire blue, which shimmered with your every movement. It was a far cry from your usual battle-worn attire, but you felt unexpectedly good in it.

Entering the cockpit, smoothing out the dress, you spotted Echo struggling with his cufflinks. “Can I help you with that?” you offered.

Echo was seated at the controls, and as he looked up, he did a double-take. None of the boys had ever seen you dressed so glamorously before. For a second, he thought you were a completely different person. His fingers stumbled, dropping the links as he tsked at himself in embarrassment. “Getting dressed in this kind of stuff is hard when you only have one hand,” he admitted, bending down to pick them up.

You moved closer, gently reaching out to help. “Here, let me.”

As you fixed the links to his cuffs, you also adjusted his slightly askew collar. Echo took a moment to truly look at you, noticing how stunning you looked. Though he had always found you beautiful, tonight you looked especially radiant. He didn’t say anything, but the soft smile on his face spoke volumes.

“There,” you said, stepping back. “All set.”

“Thanks,” Echo replied, his voice a little softer than usual. “You look…”

Gorgeous.

Pretty.

Beautiful.

“…really nice.”

He inwardly cringed at himself but saw your eyes shine at his compliment, which was clearly enough for you. And surprisingly, enough for him too.

You smiled, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Sir,”

As you arrived, the grandeur of the event immediately struck you. Shimmering chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a glittering glow over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The room buzzed with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, opulent decorations reflecting the wealth and status of the attendees.

Despite feeling out of place, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the luxurious surroundings. However, the mission was clear: infiltrate the event, locate the stolen shipment of weapons, and report back to Cid.

Moving through the crowd, you exchanged pleasantries with other guests, trying to get a sense of the situation. Your eyes continuously scanned for any sign of the crime lord or his associates, whose images Cid had ingrained in your minds. Despite the lavish setting, your nerves were on edge. You felt grateful to be teamed up with Echo; his presence gave you a sense of calm in case things went awry.

“I’m going to head right to see if I can catch a lead. Are you okay with going to the left?” Echo asked, his voice steady.

You smiled in agreement at his plan. He gave you a reassuring nod before you split up to cover more ground. You gravitated toward the bar and ordered a cocktail to blend in. The bartender handed you a drink that was a mesmerizing swirl of deep blue and violet, almost matching your dress. It had hints of citrus and a subtle sweetness that lingered on the tongue. You sipped it slowly, your eyes and ears open to any useful information.

As you listened to the murmurs around you, a light tap on your shoulder made you turn. Standing before you was the crime lord himself, tall and imposing in a sharp suit, exuding an aura of controlled menace. He offered a charming, if slightly unsettling, smile.

“Enjoying the evening?” he asked, his tone smooth and courteous.

You maintained your composure, smiling back. “It’s quite the event. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He leaned on the bar, his eyes gleaming with interest. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. It’s rare to see such beauty in these parts.”

From across the room, Echo’s gaze snapped to the scene. His posture tensed as he watched the exchange, a mix of concern and an unrecognizable pang twisting in his gut as he saw you speaking with the man. Without hesitation, he made his way over, weaving through the crowd.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me,” you said, forcing a smile as you twirled the straw in your drink.

“And if I was?” he countered, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Or are you spoken for?”

Before you could answer, another familiar voice spoke up beside you. “Is everything alright over here?”

Relief washed over you as you saw Echo. When he reached you, you took a bold step, leaning into him, looping your arm through his, and resting your head against his shoulder. “This is my better half,” you said with a sweet smile, hoping the ruse would deter the crime lord from his advances.

Echo, catching on quickly, wrapped his arm around your waist, playing along. “Good evening,” he greeted, his voice steady.

The crime lord’s eyes flickered between you both, a calculating look crossing his face before he let out a chuckle. “A lucky man, indeed,” he said.

“I am,” Echo started, shifting his position before looking across at you. “Has my love asked you about our proposal?”

You stayed silent, allowing Echo to take the reins. Although you should have been paying attention, you couldn’t help but gaze at Echo, watching his lips move but not processing his words. His fingers gently caressed your waist, providing comfort and security. Had he always been so... alluring?

You felt breathless and almost flinched when Echo’s gaze suddenly locked onto you.

“W-What?” you stammered.

Echo raised an eyebrow at you, his hand slipping from your waist, leaving you feeling suddenly cold. “Did you hear what he said?” Echo asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

You blinked, overwhelmed, and took a step back as you realised you were in a whole different realm it seemed. You hadn’t even noticed that the crime lord had left. “Sorry, I... I think I blanked out for a moment,” you admitted, frowning.

He watched you curiously and politely took the drink from your hand, placing it on the bar. “Maybe lay off these?” he suggested with a soft chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, playfully nudging his shoulder. “I only had half of one,” you reiterated, not feeling up to explaining the real reason for your distraction. “Anyway, what intel did you get?”

“He said the shipment is being moved to the docks. I told him we were thinking of getting in on the score.”

You raised an impressed eyebrow. “And he even didn’t question it?”

“Not particularly, no. But it’s best we keep our wits about us,” Echo pointed out, scanning the surroundings before his eyes landed on you again. “We should still ask around or listen for more information, just in case he’s misleading us.”

Agreeing, you and Echo split up once again. But you couldn't lie and say your mind wasn't elsewhere. Echo was definitely boyfriend material for anyone, but you never thought you'd find yourself wanting Echo to be your actual boyfriend. He settled into the role so easily that you wondered if he had done it once before in his 501st days.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a short yet intimidating associate of the crime lord blocked your path, his eyes sharp and scrutinising. “I hear you and your partner are interested in our operation,” he said suspiciously. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle,” you lied smoothly, tilting your head down at him. “It’s just business.”

“Well darling, your business is now my business.” He stepped towards you, but you didn’t back down and held your ground.

A smirk spread across your lips. “I don’t think it is. Besides, it’s your boss I have business with, not his little pup.”

The man’s eyes flared with anger at your words, feeling the sting of your insult. “I don’t trust you, or your little boyfriend. If he even is who you say he is.”

“If I had a credit for every time I didn’t care about your opinion, I wouldn’t have to do this,” you countered, placing your fists on your hips. “Now run along.”

The man muttered something under his breath and stalked off, and you couldn’t help but release the small breath you were holding. If that guy was wary of you and Echo, you were certain the others would catch on too.

You located Echo across the hall and swiftly made your way over to him, gently clutching his arm. “We should get going.”

“What, why?” he asked, looking at you and then scanning the area for any potential dangers. You told him that people were growing suspicious of you both. As you looked around, you saw the associates talking quietly to one another, occasionally glancing at you and Echo.

Your mind fell back to the associate's words, wondering why he would think you and Echo couldn’t possibly be partners. Was there anything you could do to sway their opinion?

Then, an idea clicked—a somewhat smart yet daring move.

You turned back to Echo, watching him as he scanned the environment, his hand resting on your hip. You felt a rush of wild emotions.

Letting go of his arm, your hand moved to his face, cupping his cheek and turning his face back to you softly. You met his eyes, slightly wide and curious but absolutely alluring. Leaning up, your lips landed on his.

You felt his faint gasp against your lips, but he quickly caught on to what you were doing. So, he brought you closer, his eyes fluttering closed.

At first, it started as just a peck, but as you went to pull back, his lips chased yours, not caring who or what saw.

Breaking the kiss eventually, your eyes silently spoke to each other. Without another word, Echo took your hand and led you to a quiet and secure area away from prying eyes. A flush of embarrassment suddenly surfaced, and you expected Echo to say you shouldn’t do that again. But as you turned to face him, ready to apologise, he approached you with steadfast determination and kissed you again.

Surprised, you were backed into a desk, his arm wrapping around you and lifting you onto it with ease. You gasped against his lips, holding onto his shoulders and pulling him closer. The kiss intensified, filled with pent-up emotions of the night and laced desire. His hand roamed your body, his scomp link gently tracing your waist, sending waves of shivers down your spine.

"Echo," you whispered between kisses, your voice low and gentle.

He responded with a soft murmur of your name, his lips leaving yours before trailing down your neck.

Each touch of his lips peppering on your skin made your heart race and your breaths come faster. Was this really happening?

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes with a smirk. "And you look sexy dressed this way too."

The compliment sent a thrill through you, your cheeks flushing at his bold compliment. “Echo…” you could only respond again with a soft sigh, his name the only thing on your mind.

Echo's grip tightened around you, pulling you closer as if he couldn't bear to let you go. His lips moved back to your neck, and you couldn't help the small moans that escaped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his warm tongue licked at your exposed skin, followed by a soft nip of his teeth.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," he breathed, his voice filled with sincerity and desire. Your eyes close, gasping at the realisation that Echo had had these strong feelings for you and only now is able to truly express them. You wish he had told you earlier.

His scorching kisses made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before. The connection between you deepened with each touch, each whispered word. Tongue begging for entrance, you part your lips as soon as his lips touch yours, the passion burning through both of your bodies as your hands move up and down his chest.

“What if someone sees us?” You pant once you break for breath, physically melting as you watch his hand grasp the bottom of your dress, pulling it upwards to expose your legs.

“Then they don’t get to question what you are to me,” he mumbles, drunk in love eyes meeting yours.

His hand started to slip up under your dress, sending a shiver of anticipation through you when suddenly, a sharp beep cut through the haze of your passion.

Echo pulled back, slightly breathless, as his comm went off. Cid's voice crackled through, impatient and nagging. “What’s taking so long? I need details, now. You’re needed back.”

You both exchanged a look, a mixture of frustration and amusement, before Echo answered, his voice steady despite the interruption. “We’ll be there soon, Cid. Just wrapping up.”

He ended the call and looked back at you, his gaze softening. “We should get going.”

You nodded, feeling a bit shy after the intensity of the moment being ruined . “Yeah, we should.”

As you smoothed your dress out, you watched as Echo tried to fix his tie, which you had yanked on accidentally during the kiss. Smiling, you stepped closer and helped him adjust it. “There.”

When you were done, you both met each other's gaze again. Echo couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Can we talk about what happened after the mission?” he asked softly, his eyes full of hope.

“Of course,” you replied, your heart fluttering. “I’d like that.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but you should thank Omega, and even Cid, for bringing you both together.

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[honeytonedhottie]

a glamorous well-being⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌸

i've decided to write this post to remind my audience that you're own well being comes first and just share some ways on how you can focus on ur well being in small steps that can gradually build a lifestyle.

BEAUTY SLEEP ;

go to bed at a reasonable time and wake up at a reasonable time. when ur well rested you'll feel and look your best. theres a reason why ppl call beauty sleep beauty sleep.

when u dont get enough sleep ur skin is dull, you'll start to have eyebags beneath ur eyes and can even shorten ur life span. and thats not hot.

if u feel like it'll make u more well rested, take a midday nap. if u find that u have problems sleeping, having a before bed routine that soothes u can rly help u to sleep like the angel that you are.

drink a warm cup of tea before bed

do gentle stretches

take a soothing bath or shower

DIGITAL MINIMALISM ;

we experience the fear of missing out bcuz of our habit of consuming hundreds if not thousands of unnecessary information every single day. in a way we've become information addicts.

no scroll mornings - cutting a habit completely might be hard so dont jump in with both feet immediately. go little by little.

digital declutter - intentionally cut out optional online activity and instead focus on something in person like ur community, urself and ur projects

APPRECIATING SILENCE ;

if the weather permits, i rly recommend going for walks. walking is not only good for ur body but also ur mind and getting fresh air and sunlight is rly good for u and important.

start doing guided meditations

go on daily walks to get some fresh air

JOURNALLING ;

journalling is so easy and fun and glamorous. i love the concept of journals bcuz its just such a cute way to get everything from ur mind onto paper which is helpful.

to journal with the intention of improving ur well being i recommend to get into shadow work cuz its like journal therapy. i'll link a post with shadow work prompts right here, that way you can have a place to kind of start off from.

other then simply doing shadow work journalling or maintaining a diary of sorts is also helpful for ur well being bcuz it showcases ur growth and its a great way to cultivate a sense of self without fear of judgement or privacy invasion from others.

TAKING BIG STEPS IN EASY WAYS ;

i think that the secret to overall wellness in the most glamorous way possible is a bunch of little habits that can contribute to an overall beautiful and glamorous inside and outside.

so focus on building habits before you make a huge lifestyle switch. not to confuse this with not being all in. you must be all in otherwise you'll fall back into unhealthy and old patterns for the sake of comfort.

but thats not hot, you can take baby steps while still being all in. commit to a more vibrant and more well self cuz you'll thank urself in the long run.

[redheadspark]

hey!!! i wanted to ask for the prompt #7 where it’s mainly azriel x reader but includes the whole IC too? the rest is up to you, but please remember to take all the time you need or want!! thank u <3

A/N - I do like this for Azriel. It's short but cute, I hope you like it! Thanks for the request!

Shockingly Sweet

Summary - Your recent news shocks the Inner Circle, especially Azriel. But in the sweetest way possible.

Warnings - Just fluff

“So whose idea was this?”

“I didn’t think of it,”

“No one would peg you as the candidate, Cassian. Given your track record,”

Cassian flipped off Rhsyand as the rest of the Inner Circle was standing in front of the massive dining room of The House of Wind.  Perched on the top of the tale were assortments of treats and confectionary items, all assorted on plates and display bowls from one end of the table to the other.  Their eyes were wide in amazement at that assortment in front of them: massive cookies the size of hands and heads, small bons bons assembled in pyramids.  Even wine glasses are already poured out and ready, the wine bottle out and already opened.  

Everyone was in shock, even the Spymaster himself didn’t know what to say as someone finally appeared from the kitchen to the right.  It was you, Azriel’s girlfriend who was beaming at the group and looking rather nervous in your smock worn over your dress.  Elaine floated out right after you, almost bouncing on the tip of her toes with a huge grin on her gorgeous face.  The Inner Circle looked over to the pair as you finally found your voice, still nervous in your stance.

“Thank you all for coming on short notice,” You started to explain, your voice soft but laced with hesitance and uncertainty, “I know you are all busy with your lives and, you know, running Night Court…”

“You make it sound like a big deal,” Cassian teased you, Nesta swatted his chest in retaliation as she gave you a reassuring smile.

“I wanted to plan something for you all, as a way of thanking you for accepting me into your lives and homes when I needed it,” You explained, shifting on your feet with some nerves along your skin.  Azriel saw it, instantly walking over to block you from the view of the others and look at you in concern.

���You don’t have to—“ he started to explain, thinking that this might be best for you since you hated being in the spotlight altogether.  In fact, it was one of the main reasons he was attracted to you, your gentleness and quietness.  He loved that about you, you not needing to be loud to be center of attention.  You looked at him and shook your head.

“I’m okay, trust me,” You hummed at him, seeing him search your eyes in confusion as you looked past him at the rest of the Inner Circle, all of whom were waiting patiently for what you were going to say, “You all know that I work at the local candy shop, the one near the harbor?”

“Great shop…not a huge fan of the owner though,” Cassian joked, Rhsyand rolling his eyes as Feyre eyed him.

“You are not helping,” She advised him calmly, to which Cassian laughed and shrugged as Feyre looked back at you, “Go on.  What about the shop?”

Being on your own for so long, having to be in survival mode and going day by day with barely any food in your belly or a roof over your head.  It was something you were used to for the longest time, not having another person to lean on and or someone to take care of you.

Then you stumbled on Verlaris, and your luck changed for the better.

Agatha, the owner of the candy shop, took you into both to give you a place to sleep and to work for her.  She had a kind heart, though her old age would not show it from time to time when she would be snippy with the children who would touch her displays or vendors who tried to take advantage of her.  But in the end, her shop was insanely popular, and there was a spare room in the back of the shop where you would sleep.  Months came and went, you sang every coin you were given and were able to have enough to find your own little apartment which was a 10-minute walk from the shop.  You stayed at the shop, working rather well and learning the business trade from Agatha, and considering you the only family you had.

Until High Lady Feyre and High Lord Rhysand came into your shop, their own toddler son Nyx on Feyre’s hip.  Once again, your life changed.  

“The owner, Agatha, recently just announced her retirement. She is walking away from the business altogether,” You explained to the High Lady, and everyone looked at you in shock from the news, “She’s been working there and running the shop for centuries,”

“I do remember walking into the shop a few times a year for her chocolates, they are really good,” More commented with a snort, “So, who’s the lucky fae taking over the shop?”

“Someone a bit younger and better with customer service I hope,” Rhysand joked with a grin. You tilted your chin up in confidence.  

“I’m taking over,”

Those three words rang in the room as everyone looked at you in shock and amazement.  You stood still, seeing all the pairs of eyes on you and how you were shyly smiling.  It felt like you were jumping off a cliff into the unknown, though you already signed the documents and got the keys earlier that morning.  Making the choice, although it took a month to finally say “yes” to it, was one of the best and yet scary things that you have ever done, but it was all for the better.

The day Rhsyand and Feyre met you in that shop was the day you were once again feeling a change in your life.  They were interested in the new display of chocolates that you helped create with Agatha, both praising you for how good it was and wishing to find more treats to indulge you.  You were simply riding on a high with having the High Lord and High Lady of Night Court in the still, talking to you with kindness and sincerity.  After them were Cassian and Nesta, who seemed such opposites but were instantly in love with one another. 

Then lastly, was More with Azriel  The Spymaster who flipped your work upside down.

“You…you own the shop now?” Nesta asked in genuine shock as you nodded your head, fiddling with your hands in front of you.  Cassian was beaming, like a young child during Winter Solstice.

“That…is the best job ever!  I’m jealous!” He exclaimed, “I would rather work in a candy shop than be the Illryian Army Commander….no offense Rhys,”

“No…no that’s fair,” Rhysand hummed while you looked from the group over to Azriel.  He was still in shock from the news, his wide hazel eyes were almost reflecting off the lights in the room but they were still on you.  At first, you thought he would hate the notion since he would try and take care of you in all aspects of your new and fresh relationship.  He knew of your hard past and the hardships you went through, thinking it was his duty to properly care for you.  Of course, it seemed silly to you, but then again it was his way to show that he cared about you and loved you.  He was a gift giver and a provider so to speak, and the last thing he wanted was for the fae he was falling in love with still attempt to survive.

He helped you move into a bigger apartment from the small one you lived in, he would escort you to and from work whenever he had the chance, even loving to both take you out to eat or make something to eat at your place.  

You never felt this kind of love with anyone else in your life.

“So that means you are in charge of all of the treats in the shop, all of it?” Mor asked, sounding more excited than before as you looked away from Azriel and at the group.  They were all smiling, looking rather pleased with the news.  It made you look over at Elaine and gesture your head in her direction, seeing her on the arm bouncing up and down in the hair from all the excitement that was in her veins.

“It does, and thanks to Elaine and her help, I wanted to show you all the new line of candy that I created and I’m thinking of launching within a month,” You explained, the rest of the group now looking over at the dining room table again that was covered in all the candy and treats you and Elaine created for the past few days.  You wanted to ask her since she was an expert baker and knew her way around treats.  She was more than willing to help you and make everything with you, insanely excited throughout the whole process.  After a few failed attempts, everything that was made looked perfect and beyond tempting to show the Inner Circle.  

“I want you all to be the first ones to taste the candy and to give me your honest opinion on how it is.  It won’t be released to the public for a while, but I wanted you all to try them first since you’ve been supportive of me,” You reasoned, not wishing to be sappy about that statement.  But you were telling the truth: every single person in the Inner Circle was insanely supportive of you.  They each took care of you in one moment in time and gave you all the support you needed to be where you were currently.  You were grateful for this newfound family that found you.  

Especially the Illyrian who was at your side and holding your hand in such a loving manner.

“You’ve come so far, and letting us do this for you, means the world,” Feyre said to you with her beautiful smile and bright eyes twinkling.  Rhysand winked at you from behind his mate, Nesta smirking and nodding in agreement as Cassian showed you his smirk.  Mor tilted your head at you in affection, which left Azriel to lean over and kiss the side of your head lovingly.  

“Thank you for letting us try your creations,” Mor thanked you wholeheartedly, “And you want us to try…all of them?”

“However much you want, and let me know which ones work and which don’t,” You reassured them, Cassian rubbing his hands together and looking at the dining room table like he won some kind of prize.

“Guys come on, let’s take advantage of this!  We can have fun, and plus you can't go wrong with candy!” He encouraged the rest of the group, and with them all coming to say their thanks, they all dived into the treats.  You watched in earnest and in interest as the looks of happiness and joy were on their faces.  They were all enjoying each bite, talking to each other wildly at the tastes they were experiencing.  

Yet the one person you were wishing to hear from the most was still next to you, making you look up at him and searching his bright eyes. This time he was smiling, a proud smile that he would share with you a handful of times.  You could see it in his eyes, the pride he had that you were safely on your feet.

“Az?” You asked sheepishly, seeing him lean down to hug you closely in his arms.  He hummed, hugging you in such a way that it made you smile and almost shed tears at the same time. You loved it when he hugged you, he would pour his affection into each hug he would give and show you through that gesture that he cared for you more than words, more than gestures. 

“Darling girl,” he cooed into your ear, pulling away slightly to frame your face in his scarred hands, “You never cease to amaze me with how incredible you are.  This is amazing, my love,”

You smiled widely as he kissed you, his lips would be far sweeter than any candy you would ever create.  

The End

July Prompt Session