#best fresh dog food company

[yodoggo]

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pill?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pill, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[zomboivex]

Okay but real talk

This is how I imagine every TKD guy to smell.

I don’t take constructive criticism.

Jin Kamurai - he smells like cigarette smoke. Heavily. But I he attempts to mask it with a sort of neutral sort of cologne.

Tohma Ishibashi - pretentious. I’m sorry. He smells strongly of axe body spray. Or like- it lingers from when he wore it when previously being in Vagastrom. Like he can’t wash it off because he wore it thick and heavy before transferring.

Kaito Fuji - vanilla. He smells like vanilla.

Lucas Errant - he smells pretty neutral. Like a soft cologne but it’s not heavy at all. Just subtle. You can’t pinpoint it. He smells nice, though.

Alan Mido - motor oil. Heavily of motor oil. Probably also a natural sort of scent. Not necessarily rancid. But kind of a musk?

Leo Kurosagi - peaches. Nah. He smells nice. Like you can’t pinpoint the scent. But it’s alluring and you can’t get enough. But it’s also subtle.

Sho Haizano -he smells strictly of food oil. I’m sorry but unless you’ve worked in a kitchen, you don’t understand how the smell of food CLINGS to you. His headband REEKS. Guarantee it. Leo does his best. But Sho has ‘food truck clothes’, ‘normal clothes’, and ‘Leo’s company clothes’.

Haru Sagara - he smells like a fucking barnyard. Not strictly of animal shit. But he smells like animal. And it’s HEAVY.

Towa Otonashi - overly of pollen. Nauseatingly so. If you have allergies to pollen- rest in pieces.

Ren Shiranami - a natural sort of smell. He doesn’t wear anything. But he also doesn’t necessarily smell super clean. It’s just sort of like a normal skin smell? With maybe a light lingering scent of musk.

Taiga Hoshibami - actual rot. His breath fucking STINKS. It smells like literal decay. Romeo tries his best to keep him clean but come on, it’s fucking Taiga.

Romeo Lucci - something expensive. You just know it’s expensive.

Ritsu Shinjo - fresh clean pressed laundry. And a natural clean body scent. He doesn’t smell unpleasant. And not overbearing.

Subaru Kagami - wisteria. Soft. And like clean sheets. Like fabric softener. But subtle. It is not overbearing at all.

Haku Kusanagi - patchouli or sandalwood. And heavily. But it’s kind of pleasant?

Zenji Kotodama - static. He’s a ghost. So you can’t smell him. It’s mostly akin to like when you feel you can smell static.

Ed Hart - dirty laundry and… unearthly. You can’t put your finger on it but he smells- just not normal. The best way would be almost floral but thick and still there’s lingering sort of must and old dusty book and laundry undercutting.

Rui Mizuki - he smells vaguely of death. Like that sickly sweet smell that sort of lingers around. But he does his best to mask it with ‘clean’. No matter how much he scrubs it won’t come off.

Lyca Colt - wet dog. Let’s be for fucking real. He stinks. And it is THICK in his room.

Yuri Isami - heavy of sanitation. Antiseptic. Clean hospital smell.

Jiro Kirisaki - also has that antiseptic smell. But there’s also something sort of neutral feeling about it.

[aewon]

want you so

heeseung x f! reader genre: fluff warnings: none wc: 902

Heeseung kept his eyes on you as you walked through the courtyard.

“Stare any longer, and your eyes are gonna fall out,” Jay says, munching on his Cheetos.

“I can't help it,” he replies, “she's just too beautiful.”

“You tell us daily, we get it,” Riki groans.

They just don't understand. To Heeseung, you're like a breath of fresh air. He loves everything about you. The way you smile, the way you laugh, how your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating on something.

Heeseung finds himself so infatuated, so in love with you.

When you call his name, it's like an angel is singing, and all you're doing is asking for a pencil.

He remembers when he first met you at freshman orientation. He was blown away.

Now, a year later, he still feels the same every time he sees you or when you approach him.

“I still don't get why you haven't confessed to her yet,” Sunoo says, and Heeseung finally takes his attention off you.

“I don't think she likes me like that,” he shrugs, “I’m okay with just admiring her from afar.”

His friends sigh, shaking their heads at his hopelessness.

“We should do something fun this weekend,” Sunghoon says, playing with his pencil in boredom.

“The fair is in town. What if we go?”Jungwon suggests.

Everyone looks at each other, silently agreeing.

On Saturday, Heeseung finds himself at the food stand, getting a corn dog.

Jake taps his shoulder, “Dude, look who’s here!”

He turns in the direction Jake is pointing to, eyes widening as they immediately find you.

“This could be your chance to talk to her!” Jake says eagerly.

All the boys are nudging him forward as he digs his heels into the ground.

“I don't think I can,” he says, voice whiny.

Protests come from behind him, “Come on!”

“Just do it!”

“What have you got to lose!”

“My dignity!” He argues, but they're getting closer to you.

Riki delivers a hard push, and before he knows it, he's falling right into you.

The boys quickly disperse, abandoning Heeseung and acting like they were never there.

Your frown soon becomes a smile as you recognize him, “Heeseung!”

“Hey, sorry about that. My friends were pushing me to go on this ride.”

You wave it off, “It’s okay! I'm glad to see you.”

You're glad to see him? Oh god, he can feel his heart beating faster.

“My friends kinda abandoned me. Maybe you could keep me company?” You ask, giving him a small smile.

This is your chance; don't slip up! He thinks to himself.

“I'd love to keep you company,” he says, giving you a smile of his own.

Suddenly, he’s being dragged by you all across the fair.

You take him to every game, and he does his best to impress you, ultimately failing.

“These games are rigged, you know?” He says as you laugh.

“Totally.”

When you pull him to the basketball game, he knows this is his chance. He has to do good.

And by god’s grace, he makes every basket, earning the top prize.

“What do you want?” He asks you, giggling on the inside when you look at him with wide eyes.

“You're letting me choose?”

“Of course, it's for you!”

You end up choosing the deer plushie.

“It reminds me of you. It has big, beautiful eyes.”

You say it casually, but Heeseung is stunned.

Big, beautiful eyes? Reminds you of him?

You purposefully chose a plushie that reminds you of him.

Before he can say something, you're pulling him in another direction.

When he looks up, he sees the love boat sign and almost collapses.

When it's your turn, he gets into the boat wordlessly.

He gulps as it starts moving, trailing into darkness.

It's quiet for a minute before you turn to him, speaking up.

“I wanted to bring you here for a reason,” you say.

Heeseung can feel himself start to sweat. Is it getting hotter?

“What is it?” he answers.

Your hand raises to cup his cheek, turning him to face you.

“I've liked you for a while now, Heeseung. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was nervous. You don't know the effect you have on me. It’s like I can't think when you're around because my mind is just filled with thoughts of you: your smile, your laugh, your eyes. God, I love your eyes. You're so kind and gentle. I just want you so badly.”

Heeseung doesn't think he was breathing the moment you cupped his cheek, but he certainly wasn't breathing now, listening to your confession.

He doesn't know what to say or how to respond.

So he doesn't.

He surges forward, capturing your lips.

Your lips are soft and taste like strawberries.

You kiss back, sighing softly into the kiss.

Your lips move in unison, gentle but passionate.

It feels like it’s been hours when you eventually pull apart.

“You don't know how infatuated I've been with you since the day we met. You're everything to me, Y/N.”

You giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

“You're mine now,” you say slyly, making Heeseung blush.

When the ride finally ends, you and Heeseung walk out hand in hand.

As they watch you, your friends, along with his, all high-five each other.

“Thank god that worked out,” Jay says, “watching them pine for each other was killing me.”

t/n: just a little something to put out there!

[mybelovedwoo]

series of unfortunate events

wooyoung x f!reader

fluff, established relationship, funny / wc: 1.1k

warnings: a lot of incidents, just clumsy babies lol

note: i had this in my drafts for a long time now and I missed my boy so much!! but he is back now <3 wooyoung proves that he is the best boyfriend ever once again. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here :)

wooyoung masterlist - main masterlist

coffee spilled

It was a sunny morning, and Y/n decided to surprise Wooyoung with breakfast in bed. She meticulously prepared his favorite pancakes and a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Balancing the tray, she made her way to the bedroom, a proud smile on her face.

Just as she entered the room, Wooyoung called out, "Good morning, love!" Startled, Y/n tripped over the edge of the rug. The tray flew out of her hands, and coffee splashed everywhere, including all over Wooyoung.

Wooyoung blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. "Well, that’s one way to wake me up!"

Y/n groaned, trying to mop up the mess. "I’m so sorry, Wooyoung."

He pulled her into a hug, coffee stains and all. "It's okay. Now I have an excuse to shower with you."

wardrobe malfunction

Wooyoung and Y/n were getting ready for a fancy dinner with friends. Y/n had picked out a stunning dress, while Wooyoung donned a sharp suit. As they were about to leave, Y/n’s dress zipper got stuck.

"Wooyoung, can you help me with this?" she asked, turning her back to him.

Wooyoung tried to fix the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. In a last attempt, he yanked it hard, and the zipper broke. Y/n’s dress fell slightly, and she gasped.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in horror, then softened. "Looks like we’ll be fashionably late."

Y/n sighed but couldn’t help but laugh at his sheepish expression. "You owe me a new dress."

hot and spicy

One evening, Wooyoung decided to cook a romantic dinner for Y/n. He meticulously followed a new recipe, determined to impress her. Y/n sat at the counter, watching him with admiration.

As he was flambéing the sauce, a small flame jumped from the pan, catching the edge of the kitchen towel. Panic ensued as Wooyoung tried to put out the fire with the towel, only making it worse.

Y/n quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher and doused the flames. They both stood there, covered in foam, the kitchen a smoky mess.

Wooyoung looked at her sheepishly. "Well, I was going for hot and spicy."

Y/n giggled, wiping foam off his face. "You succeeded, just not in the way you planned."

movie night 

It was their regular movie night, and Wooyoung had set up a cozy spot with blankets, pillows, and a big bowl of popcorn. As the movie started, Y/n reached for the popcorn and accidentally knocked the bowl over, spilling it all over the couch and floor.

Wooyoung looked at the mess, then at Y/n, who was apologizing profusely. He smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the floor and tossing it at her playfully.

"Food fight!" he declared, laughing as he lobbed more popcorn her way.

Y/n shrieked and joined in, their movie forgotten as they turned the living room into a battlefield of buttery kernels.

a park adventure

Wooyoung and Y/n decided to spend a day at the park, enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company. They brought a kite, eager to relive some childhood fun.

As Wooyoung ran with the kite, trying to get it airborne, Y/n was busy setting up their picnic. She didn’t notice the dog that had decided to make their picnic its target. The dog bounded over, knocking over the basket and scattering their food.

Y/n tried to shoo the dog away, but it was too late. The kite string tangled around her legs, and she tripped, falling right into the remnants of their picnic.

Wooyoung rushed over, trying not to laugh. "Are you okay, pookie?"

Y/n looked up at him, covered in food and kite string, and started to laugh. "Next time, we’re sticking to indoor activities."

gym fiasco

Wooyoung and Y/n decided to hit the gym together for a change. They started with some light stretching and moved on to the treadmill. Y/n, determined to impress Wooyoung with her newfound dedication, cranked up the speed.

A few minutes in, she lost her footing and flew off the treadmill, landing in a heap on the floor. Wooyoung, seeing the whole thing, rushed over, trying not to laugh.

"You okay, pumpkin?" he asked, helping her up.

Y/n nodded, red-faced. "Yeah, just my pride is hurt."

Wooyoung kissed her forehead. "You’re still the strongest in my book."

the elevator incident

They were headed to a friend's party, dressed to the nines, and decided to take the elevator. As they stepped in, the doors closed, and the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop.

Y/n pressed the emergency button, but nothing happened. "Great, we’re stuck," she muttered.

Wooyoung shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Guess we’ll have to pass the time somehow." He leaned in and kissed her, making the most of their unexpected alone time.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator started moving again. When the doors finally opened, they were met with amused looks from other guests.

"Best party entrance ever," Wooyoung whispered, squeezing her hand.

beach blunder

On a warm, sunny day, Wooyoung and Y/n decided to spend the afternoon at the beach. They set up their spot with an umbrella, towels, and a cooler full of snacks. Wooyoung suggested they take a dip in the ocean.

As they played in the waves, Y/n got caught by a particularly strong wave that pulled her under. She resurfaced, sputtering and missing her bikini top. Panicked, she looked around for it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Wooyoung, trying to keep a straight face, handed her his shirt. "Here, put this on before you cause a scene."

Y/n, cheeks burning, quickly covered herself. "This is so embarrassing."

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around her. "It’s just another story to tell."

shopping spree slip-up

Wooyoung and Y/n went shopping for a friend's birthday gift. They wandered through the mall, hand in hand, laughing and joking as they browsed the stores.

Y/n spotted a display of cute mugs and hurried over to take a closer look. As she picked one up, another mug teetered and fell, knocking over several more. The sound of breaking ceramic filled the store.

Y/n’s face went pale. "Oh no..."

Wooyoung chuckled, stepping in front of her protectively. "I guess we’re buying all these mugs now."

The store clerk approached, and Wooyoung handled the situation smoothly, even making the clerk laugh. "Accidents happen," he said, paying for the broken items.

Y/n sighed in relief. "Thanks, Wooyoung."

He winked. "Anything for you, my love."

surprise gone wrong

Wooyoung wanted to surprise Y/n with a romantic evening. He set up candles, scattered rose petals, and prepared a delicious meal. As Y/n was about to arrive, he lit the candles and dimmed the lights.

Just as Y/n walked in, the fire alarm went off, and the sprinklers activated, soaking everything, including them. Wooyoung stood there, dripping wet, holding a soggy bouquet of flowers.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, this is one way to keep things exciting."

Wooyoung laughed too, pulling her into a wet hug. "Guess we’ll have to improvise."

-

taglist: @dinossaurz @taz-97 @soso59love-blog @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Four

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Things are growing tense between the you and Dean, buried feelings seemed to be bursting at the seems. How long until they finally burst? Is the real question.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst, the usual pinning idiots, fluff.

AN: Okay this chapter became way too long so I had to split it 😅 call it the first half to chapter 5, where we will continue on. As always I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

After your steamy shower escapades, you’d both decided to part ways for the night. As much as you wanted to bask in the aftermath, sleeping together—actually sleeping—felt like crossing an invisible line you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Luckily, you had an easy excuse. You had work in the morning, and Dean had an even earlier start for his long drive out to Stanford. And after a day filled with very thorough extracurricular activities, the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

By the time you woke up, Dean was already gone. A small part of you felt miffed that you hadn’t gotten to see him off—not just because of whatever this thing was between you, but because, at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. And you missed him when he wasn’t around.

That little pang of disappointment eased when you spotted the note on the coffee machine, still warm from where he must have made a fresh pot before leaving.

You weren’t prepared for the wave of emotions that crashed into you at the sight of his familiar scrawl. Why did he have to be so…Dean?

Letting out a long sigh, you lightly slapped your own cheek. Snap out of it. It’s nothing new.

Dean had always been like this. A natural caretaker. Your friend. That was all.

You shoved those unwelcome feelings down, drowning them in bites of warm, buttery pancakes and strong coffee. The food did wonders for distracting your heart.

By noon, you were about ready to throw in the towel. Your caseload was piling higher by the minute, the endless spreadsheets and budget reports turning into a blur of numbers. 

As the company’s-chartered accountant, you were used to the pressure—but Roman’s impulsive decision to buy into the Biggerson’s fast food chain had sent your workload into overdrive. You were now up to your eyeballs in audits and projections, making sure the company wasn’t about to haemorrhage money on a half-baked business venture.

A familiar teasing voice broke through your frazzled thoughts.

“Damn, I don’t know whether you need a drink or a cigarette.”

Spinning your chair around, you found yourself face-to-face with your favourite redhead, her signature smirk firmly in place.

“Can I have both?” you deadpanned, rubbing a hand over your already mussed-up hair. “Seriously, why couldn’t he wait until after the holidays for this manic decision? And why the hell Biggerson’s?”

Charlie plopped down onto your desk, crossing her legs as she shrugged. “Yeah, no clue. Although… Frank—”

You arched a brow. “Conspiracy-theory Frank?”

“The very one.”

Of course.

Charlie leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s convinced the company heads are actually cannibals, and this whole buyout is part of some elaborate scheme to fatten up Americans before they, and I quote, ‘chow down.’”

You burst out laughing, the stress momentarily melting away. “Wow. That’s a new one.”

“Right?” Charlie grinned before giving your arm a pat. “C’mon, let’s get some lunch. And then you can tell me why Gary looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon all morning.”

A few blocks away, you and Charlie found yourselves at Rufus’ Deli, home to some of Kansas’ finest sandwiches. Rufus himself was a legend—gruff, no-nonsense, and about as approachable as a guard dog, but no one could deny the man’s skills. His sandwiches were that good, drawing lines down the block every day.

Luckily, you and Charlie had managed to worm your way into his good graces over time. Whether it was your shared appreciation for his craftsmanship or the fact that you never tried to chat his ear off like other customers, he had developed a soft spot for you both. And that meant one very important perk—you got to skip the line.

So, when the lunch rush was in full swing and Rufus spotted you, a warm smile replacing his usual gruffness, jerking his head toward the counter. “What’ll it be today, ladies?”

You gave him your order with a grateful smile, and within minutes, you and Charlie were seated at your usual spot, tearing into your sandwiches.

“So,” Charlie mumbled around a bite of her chicken club, “wanna fill me in on the Gary sitch?”

You sighed, setting your sandwich down and swallowing before launching into the whole story. You kept the details light—omitting the drinking with Jo and the deeper parts of your frustration—but you didn’t hold back on the bare minimum effort Gary had put into your so-called relationship.

Charlie listened intently, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to full-on irritation. When you finished, she scoffed. “Damn. What a prick.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms before her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “You know… you just gave me the incentive I needed to fill that douchebag’s computer with enough viruses to make it cry.”

You nearly choked on your drink, barely managing to cover your mouth as you laughed.

Charlie worked in the tech department and she was the company’s most valuable asset. The only one who came close to her level of expertise was Frank, and even he admitted she was the best. You’d met her in your second month on the job when she’d swooped in to fix a software issue you’d been struggling with. Not only had she solved it in minutes, but she’d also taken the time to teach you a few tricks that you still used to this day.

The two of you had hit it off immediately. She was a giant nerd at heart—quirky, sarcastic, and fiercely loyal. You’d bonded over your shared love of Harry Potter, both agreeing that Hermione was the real reason Harry even survived half his adventures.

“You know…” you smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “I wouldn’t hate to see that.”

Charlie grinned, wiggling her fingers as if casting a spell. “Then consider it done.”

The two of you burst into laughter, the weight of your morning stress lifting—at least for now.

After lunch, you and Charlie made your way back to the office, the brisk winter air nipping at your cheeks and turning the tip of your nose red. The cold was sharp, but in a way, it was refreshing—like it was clearing out the mental fog that had settled in after your morning of spreadsheets and stress.

As you neared the building, Charlie shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “You coming to the company Christmas party tomorrow night?”

You blinked, nearly having forgotten about the annual bash Roman Enterprises threw right before everyone was released for their so-called ‘Christmas break.’

“Shit, I completely forgot about that,” you admitted, your breath visible in the air. Your mind had been preoccupied with... well, other things.

“Well, I’m only going if you are. I can only tolerate these people when I’m getting paid for it.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “I mean, I guess it’d be the decent thing to show our faces, right?” You shrugged, considering it. “And I do have to admit—Dick throws a damn good party.”

“Right? And there’s always a chocolate fountain,” Charlie said, eyes lighting up.

You hummed in agreement. “Fuck it. Let’s go. I can grab a new dress on my way home later.”

Charlie grinned, clearly pleased. “Oh! You should invite Dean. It’s been a while since I saw that knucklehead.”

That made you hesitate.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to invite Dean, but an office Christmas party wasn’t exactly a casual setting. And inviting him made it feel a little too much like... a date.

But then again, Charlie would be there. It wasn’t like it would just be the two of you. Three friends hanging out. Totally normal.

“Sure,” you said after a beat, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “I’ll ask him. Though he’s not a suit-and-tie kinda guy.” You chuckled, already picturing his disgruntled expression. Getting Dean to wear anything remotely formal had always been a battle.

Charlie smirked. “Tell him there’s an open bar. I’m sure he’ll be persuaded.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head as you pulled open the office door. “Yeah... you might be onto something there.”

By the time you left the office, the sky had deepened into rich blues and purples, the last traces of daylight fading behind the city skyline. You made your way down to 9th Street, stopping in a few stores to find something to wear for the company Christmas party. Dick Roman always hosted black-tie events, and currently, your wardrobe leaned more toward casual attire, jeans, hoodies, sweatpants—not exactly gala material.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to find the dress. A deep red gown with delicate lace accents, an open back that dipped daringly low, and just enough side-boob to make going braless the only option. It was definitely more revealing than what you’d normally go for, but for some reason the thought of Dean seeing you in it, gave you enough incentive to buy it.

Once you got home, you decided it was finally time you got stuck into the gift wrapping. You slipped into your loungewear and set up in the living room, surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. 

Wrapping gifts had always been something you enjoyed—it wasn’t a chore but a ritual. You loved making each present look as perfect as possible, picturing the happiness on your loved ones' faces when they unwrapped them.

Dean’s gift was the last one left of the night, and it was by far the most meaningful.

You had managed to track down an original pressing of Led Zeppelin II—the very album he’d lost as a kid in the house fire. It had been bad, nearly costing Mary her life, the electrical damage so severe that renovations had taken years. They had lost so much—family photos, keepsakes, and among them, the vinyl his dad had given him on his 10th birthday. 

You could still remember the hours you spent in his room, the two of you lying on his bed, singing along to Ramble On, always a little off-key but never caring. Finding another copy had been next to impossible, but last month, Charlie had tracked one down in a tiny record store just outside of town. You had almost kissed her for it.

Now, as you carefully folded the wrapping paper around the record and tied a bow on top, you smiled to yourself. You hoped he liked it.

Just as you finished up, your phone buzzed. Dean. You ignored the flutter in your chest at the sight of his name and flipped open the screen.

“’Sup?”

“Why did I agree to this again?” Came Dean’s gruff voice.

“Because you’re a massive pushover?” you deadpanned.

“Do you know I’m currently parked out on a dirt road? No motels. Havin’ to rough it tonight.”

You bit your lip, picturing him scowling at his surroundings.

“I still don’t feel sorry for you.” You chuckled, and he let out a dramatic sigh.

“’Course you wouldn’t.”

You smiled into the receiver, adjusting the phone against your ear as you stacked the last wrapped gift onto the pile.

“You do realise Sam has a license and could’ve driven himself home, right?”

Dean groaned. “Yeah, but I kinda only got him some shaving foam and a razor for Christmas.”

Your mouth dropped. “WHAT?! That’s all you got him?” You screeched into the receiver. “No wonder you took, like, five minutes to shop. I thought they were your toiletries, not presents!”

“Yeah, well, now he’s got a road trip with his big bro to add to it.”

“You’re a nightmare,” you scoffed, shaking your head with an amused twitch of your lips despite yourself.

The line fell silent for a beat, the comfortable kind, before you remembered your conversation with Charlie.

“I, uh, had lunch with Charlie today,” you said.

“Yeah? How is the nerd?” he teased, though there was clear fondness in his tone.

“She’s good. She’s also plotting to destroy Gary’s computer with viruses.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “Brilliant.”

“She also reminded me about the company Christmas party tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah? You goin’?”

You hesitated, trying to sound casual. “We agreed to go if the other did… but she also asked if you wanted to come.”

There was a pause. “Really?” Dean hummed. “Do you want me to go?”

Your heart thudded in your chest.

“I mean, I know they’re not really your thing. It’s a black-tie event, super formal,” you said quickly, then mentally facepalmed. Were you trying to talk him out of it?

“Sounds pretty terrible,” he agreed, and you panicked.

“There’s an open bar, though.”

Silence. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Hmm. Now that does change things,” he mused. “I can come if you want me to?”

Your face flushed at the unintentional pun—although, knowing Dean, it was probably very intentional.

“More the merrier, right?” You shrugged it off, with a lame chuckle, wanting to smack yourself in the head.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you.

“I’ll, uh, let you get some rest,” you said, softer this time. “Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Yeah, probably best.” He sighed, and you could almost picture him, all scrunched up in the backseat.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“’Night, sweetheart.”

The next day, you busied yourself tidying up around the apartment. You didn’t want Dean thinking you were completely incapable of living alone, so you straightened up, wiped down the counters, and even tested out a few cake recipes for Christmas. 

After a few failed attempts, you finally landed on a winner—a pecan upside-down cake. It was soft, sweet, and had just the right crunch from the pecans. For a first try, it wasn’t bad. And that was exactly what Dean walked into a few hours later, when he finally arrived.

“Whoa. What the hell smells so good?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, smiling, and for a second, Dean forgot how to breathe. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since he’d last seen you, and somehow, he’d missed you way more than he was willing to admit.

“Hey. I was just trying out some recipes for Christmas. Think I found a winner.” You cut a slice of cake and slid it onto a plate before handing it to him.

He eyed it suspiciously, glancing between you and the dessert. “You made this?”

You scoffed, your hands settling on your hips in a defensive stance. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Dean smirked at your reaction. He lived to rile you up. Still, he picked up the slice and took a big bite. The second the flavours hit his tongue, his eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a deep, satisfied moan.

“Shit, that’s good.”

You swallowed hard.

“Really?” you asked, voice a little breathier than you intended.

His eyes snapped open. “You kiddin’ me? I think I just found my new favourite dessert.”

Your face warmed. That was high praise coming from him. Dessert was practically Dean’s second language—specifically, the pie dialect—so for him to say that about your cake. That was a damn honour.

“Well, that’s that then. Dessert is sorted.” You dog-eared the page in the recipe book you’d picked up while dress shopping, mentally noting to make this again for Christmas.

Dean took a seat at the island as he finished his slice of cake, the two of you making idle chit chat about his trip, and how much LA traffic sucked, when you got onto the topic of Sam and his new lady friend. 

“So, Is he punching?” You asked rather bluntly, a teasing smirk on your lips as you gathered everything coated in cake batter and dumped it into the sink.

“Oh, massively. She’s way out of my brother’s league.” Dean laughed, the sound rich and amused, and you raised a brow.

“Sounds like you’re just as smitten,” you mused, a little sharper than you’d intended. What the hell is wrong with you?

You turned your back to him to cover your idiocy, arms buried in warm, soapy water as you busied yourself scrubbing utensils clean.

It was just an innocent comment. It wasn’t like you cared if Dean thought some girl was attractive. You weren’t overthinking, not at all. Not about how easy it would be for him to fall for someone else, someone uncomplicated, someone not you.

Jesus, girl!

You were broken from your spiralling thoughts when you felt him behind you. His presence was unmistakable heat radiating off of him in waves, his scent a lingering mix of soap, leather, and the faded remnants of his cologne. It made your head swim.

A dish clinked gently as he slipped his plate into the water beside you.

“Do I detect some jealousy in that tone of yours?” His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of it curling down your spine.

“Pfft, you’re joking, right?” You scoffed, but the slight crack in your voice gave you away.

Dean heard it too. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking. The self-satisfaction practically rolled off him.

You placed the last item on the drying rack and turned, only to find him closer than expected. Your breath hitched.

“No. I’m deadly serious.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as his eyes locked onto yours, heavy-lidded and unreadable. The space between you shrank, an invisible force pulling you toward him. Like gravity, like inevitability.

Dean leaned in; his breath warm as it fanned across your lips. His hands braced against the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The heat between you was palpable, something crackling in the air, something that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter.

Then—

His ringtone shattered the moment.

You jolted slightly, the haze lifting as quickly as it had settled. Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he pulled his phone from his pocket. One glance at the screen and his expression soured.

“What?” he answered gruffly.

You took that as your cue to leave, slipping away down the hall and into your bedroom, pressing the door shut behind you.

You needed a breather. Badly.

What the hell was that?

He can’t be home for more than five minutes before you want to jump his bones.

And, seriously, “Sounds like you’re smitten?” What were you thinking?

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face before shaking yourself out of your stupor. A shower. A cold one, preferably. Then you could focus on getting ready for tonight—because the last thing you needed was to be a flustered mess at a party where you were supposed to look put together.

The irony.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, steam curling into the air, Dean had left again. Apparently, Sam had forgotten one of Jess’s bags, the one containing all of her clothes for the next couple of days, in Dean’s trunk, so he had to drive back to his parents’ house to drop It off.

That allowed you to take your time getting ready, without being rushed for ‘hogging’ the bathroom.

You pampered yourself—lotions, perfumes, careful grooming (not at all for a certain green-eyed man). You took your time with your hair and makeup, allowing the slow, methodical routine to settle your nerves.

You’d just finished curling your hair when Dean returned.

Still in your robe, you stepped out of your room to grab a drink, only to nearly collide with him in the hallway.

“Oof.”

Dean caught you, steadying you before you could fully crash into him. Your hands landed briefly against his chest, warm and firm beneath your palms.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy, but then his gaze flickered over you, taking in your appearance.

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “You know, when you said black tie, I didn’t realise you meant the robe kind.”

You glanced down at yourself—silk black robe, tied securely at the waist—and realised what he meant.

Unimpressed, you looked back up at him. “Wow. You’re freakin’ hilarious.”

Dean barked out a full-bodied laugh, clearly pleased with himself as you brushed past him toward the fridge, shaking your head. You twisted off the cap of a beer and took a sip.

“Any more jokes like that out of you tonight, and you can stay home,” you warned, levelling him with a serious stare.

Dean only grinned wider but raised a hand in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’ll be well-behaved.”

But the dark glint in his eye told a different story.

He left you there and headed for the shower, while you worked to calm the nerves still rattling in your chest.

Tonight was going to be… complicated.

Questions would be asked.

Is Dean your date? Are you two together?

And you’d have to say no.

Which meant leaving him wide open for the kill.

The women in HR were like sharks in bloodied water—desperate, predatory, and not the least bit subtle. They’d be all over him tonight. And you weren’t sure if you were equipped to handle seeing it. Because those were exactly the kind of women Dean would bed. And you were basically serving him up on a silver platter.

Lord, give me strength.

By the time the clock neared 7 p.m., you were dressed and ready.

You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. You had to admit—you looked good. Hot, even.

The dress hugged every curves perfectly, the wide-open back revealing the delicate slope of your spine before stopping just above the curve of your ass. A bold red lip completed the look, matching the rich fabric of your gown. Your hair was swept up in a loose bun, soft curls framing your face.

Satisfied, you stepped out into the living room—only to stop short at the sight of Dean.

He was already dressed, waiting, phone in hand.

And he looked—

God.

A black suit, fitted just right, a crisp white dress shirt beneath. The same suit he’d worn for his parents’ anniversary dinner last year. It had looked good on him then. It looked even better now.

The broad set of his shoulders, the slim taper of his waist—it was unfair how well he filled it out. His hair was neatly gelled, but not too much. Just enough to keep that natural, tousled look in place. And he smelled… incredible.

He must’ve sensed your presence, because he looked up from his phone, and had to do a double take.

Holy. Mother of God.

Dean couldn’t breathe. It was as if you’d knocked the wind right out of his lungs just by existing in that dress.

You were stunning.

And that word didn’t even come close to doing you justice.

His gaze dragged over you, drinking in every detail. The way the dress clung to you, the deep red fabric a striking contrast against your skin. The soft glow of the light catching on the shade of your eyes, making them look brighter somehow. The way your lips—painted that same rich shade of red—parted slightly as you waited for him to say something.

Jesus.

He wanted to say something smooth, something that would make you smile, make you roll your eyes at him the way you always did when he teased you. But his mouth had gone dry, and his brain wasn’t quite catching up.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his voice to work.

“You…” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, his lips twitching up at the corners. “Damn.”

Your brows lifted in amusement. “That bad, huh?”

Dean huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not even close.” His eyes met yours, more serious now. “You look incredible.”

Your breath hitched. He meant it—there was no teasing lilt in his voice, no smug grin. Just honesty, plain and simple.

You swallowed, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you murmured. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”

Dean smirked, but it softened almost immediately. His gaze lingered, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The air between you felt different—thicker, heavier. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, in the way his fingers twitched at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching out.

For a brief second, you let yourself sink into it. Let yourself feel the weight of his attention, the warmth in his eyes.

But then, just as quickly, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Alright,” you said, exhaling sharply and breaking eye contact. “We should get going before we’re late.”

Dean blinked, like he was shaking off a daze. “Right.” He cleared his throat and followed you to the door, as you grabbed your coat.

Dean opened the door for you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he guided you out. The heat of his touch lingering long after.

AN: I just want to bang their heads together! but at the same time, where would be the fun in that!? 😂 I hope you noticed I gave y'all a little break from all the spice in this chapter, but fear not, these too can never stay separated long 👀

(Also, if anyone reading this works in HR, it was just an idea I went with, I don't mean to offend or think HR is like that 😅)

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @fangirlingfromdownunder @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned

Next Time...

Your fingers tightened around your glass as you watched her laugh at something he said—too exaggerated, in your opinion. He wasn’t that funny. And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, her manicured hand squeezed his bicep. That was the last straw. Charlie had abandoned you to use the restroom, leaving you with no distractions other than to sit and watch Dean practically fall in love with another woman right in front of you. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic. But he looked interested, smitten even, and it made your stomach churn. Deciding you’d tortured yourself enough, you pushed to your feet and manoeuvred through the crowd toward the bar. More alcohol seemed like the only logical solution. Except, before you got there, you walked straight into someone solid.

[himluv]

Wonder

More Lucanis/Rook - and things are getting... confusing for our hapless rogue. @vorchagirl

It was late. The dining hall’s fire burned low, but the coffee was fresh. Lucanis sat at the table working on his shopping list. He’d had several requests and, with the recent addition of Taash and Emmrich, new palates to consider. He would go to Treviso tomorrow to resupply, and to check in with Teia and Viago.

Taash liked spicy foods, so he’d stock up on various kinds of peppers. Emmrich was vegetarian, which meant they needed more beans, lentils, and squashes. It would be good to have extra – he would get Neve to eat a vegetable if it was the last thing he did. 

Assuming she ever came back.

He’d tried to imagine how it would feel if Rook hadn’t come to Treviso. If the dragon had been permitted to lay waste and spread the blight for hours. Just imagining it broke his heart. He couldn’t fathom how crushed Neve must feel. Lucanis wanted to help, but without her here, he wasn’t sure where to start. 

Rook! Spite said. The demon had taken to announcing the elf’s presence whenever he noticed her, like a dog barking before someone knocked at the door. 

Sure enough, she walked into the dining hall a moment later. She wore the linen shirt she usually wore under her leathers, its deep v-neck loose and flowing without her armor’s belts and pouches holding it in place. 

Mierda, she looked good. He wanted to touch her, her skin, her hair. He wondered if her lips were as soft as he imagined them. Wondered what it would feel like to pull her close and know the curve of her body on his. 

Lucanis cleared his throat and frowned down at his shopping list. He needed to focus. But he wasn’t used to feeling like this. Even with Viago, it’d been more about the man than his body. His dark humor and little smirks had been utterly charming. 

With Rook… somehow it was both? She was funny and interesting, her smile brightened any room, and Lucanis could listen to her talk endlessly. But his body reacted to her presence in a way he hadn’t known it could.

Want. Rook?  Spite asked.

Mierda, yes. There was no point denying it. 

Want Rook. To do what?

Maker help him. He was not going to explain sex to a demon. Especially not when his own understanding of the topic was so… limited.

“Wow,” Rook said from over his shoulder. “What did that shopping list do to you?”

He snorted at that. “It’s late, Rook,” he said. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She hoisted herself up to sit on the table, swinging her feet. Lucanis pointedly did not look at her as she leaned back into her palms. 

Was she trying to kill him? But, of course she wasn’t. She had no idea what power she held over him, and that was for the best. 

“I’m always up,” he said. 

She scowled at that, but didn’t comment. When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything else, Lucanis turned his attention back to his list. 

Smells like berries and campfire, Spite said. Warm and soft. He took a big sniff, suddenly appearing to stand between her legs, the demon’s face trailing up her body as he inhaled. Smells nice!

“Spite, could you not? Mierda.” That was not helping.

Rook went still. “What’s he doing?”

“Nothing,” Lucanis said too quickly. He stared down at his list and willed himself not to blush. He was a grown man, even if he was inexperienced. He sighed. “Did you need something, Rook?”

“Oh,” she said. 

Lucanis winced at her disappointed tone. It was late. Everyone else was probably asleep, and after Minrathous, he couldn’t blame her for avoiding her dreams. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good company right now.”

“Is…” she paused, as if she was uncertain if she should ask. “Is everything okay?”

He sat back in his chair and looked at her. “I’m fine.”

She raised a brow at him. 

He gave her a tiny smile. “Honestly,” he said. “Just…” he shook his head. “Thinking about Neve.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

Was that what was keeping her up at night?

Smoke and fire, Spite said.  Dreams of blood and screams.

That sounded pretty familiar. Although Lucanis tended to dream less of fire and more of water. 

Spite hissed at the memory of the Ossuary.

“She’ll come back,” he said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

“I know,” Rook said. She shook her head. “But things will be different.”

“I know.” There was nothing they could do about that. 

After a moment, Rook peered down at his list. “So, what are we eating this week?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he said. “Why? Was there something you wanted?”

She sat back again, tapping her chin with one index finger as she made a show of thinking. 

This time, Lucanis looked. He let his eyes rove over her, noted the swell of her thighs and hips, how they tapered up into her high waist. Maker, he wanted to put his hands there. To feel her ribcage expand as her breath hitched. Her shirt bared a tantalizing view of her sternum, her collarbones and throat. Lucanis wondered what her skin would taste like. Wondered what sounds she would make if he kissed her in that spot where her neck met her shoulder. 

“There’s this stew,” she said. 

Lucanis blinked, his eyes darting up to her face, sure he’d be caught staring. But she was looking up at the ceiling.

“I used to get it in Wycome,” she continued. “When I had the spare coin.” She sighed. “It had mashed potatoes and this rich venison gravy.”

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to make this dish for her. To see her taste a memory of home, hear her moan in pleasure at something he'd made. Did this count as a fantasy? He wasn’t sure. All of this was new territory for him. 

“I don’t know what it’s called though,” she said. “The stall I bought it from just called it ‘Stew’.” She chuckled at that, the sound carrying a forgotten fondness that seemed to surprise her. “I haven’t thought of that place in forever.”

Lucanis smiled at her. “I’ll see what I can find,” he said. He’d never been to Wycome, but despite their independence, the Marches were all fairly similar. He’d had a similar dish while working in Starkhaven some years ago. If he could find the right ingredients, he should be able to recreate something close. 

Rook smiled, and then yawned. She stretched, bowing her back and rolling her body in a way that Lucanis was most definitely not immune to. He kept his arms crossed and his hands balled into fists, otherwise he didn’t trust himself not to reach out and touch her. 

“Thanks, Lucanis,” she said. 

He frowned. “For what?”

She shrugged. “For listening,” she said. “Even when you don’t want to.”

“I always want to.” The words were out before he could stop them. They hung between them, charged and crackling more than the fire behind him. She watched him with those violet-tinged eyes, and her gaze was so intent Lucanis had to look away. 

He cleared his throat and added a few new ingredients to his list. Venison. Potatoes. Cream. Rook slid down off the table, taking his sudden focus as the dismissal it was. He needed space between them again, or he would falter. 

“Goodnight, Lucanis,” she said. 

He waited until she was at the door to say, “Goodnight, Rook.”

She lingered at the door just long enough for him to glance up and catch her smile. It was more than enough to get him through the night.

[sol-consort]

Javik following you around the ship during the first weeks of recruiting him. Less of a lost puppy case and more of an unofficial guard dog—well more akin to a bear... prothean... god, who imprinted on you?

Always two steps behind, observing you with eerie focus as you make yourself a sandwich in the ship kitchen, lick the spoon, wash the dishes. He always sits the closest to you in the shuttle—he joined the mission out of his own initiative, no one told him to—the usual adrenaline filled atmosphere between your crew turning deadly quiet as everyone in the shuttle stays on their best behavior around the prothean.

You kept wondering if it's like a hatching chick case, is the first face a prothean fresh out of the pod gazes upon the one they imprint on?

But no... that's not right. It wasn't you who opened the cryopod after all. It was James. Well, technically, Liara unlocked it, but James lifted the cover himself. you were the third person to meet him.

It wasn't an isolated incident; the Normandy crew as a whole seemed to be walking on eggshells. Everyone was too aware of the four eyed elephant in the room.

The last time anyone tried small talk with Javik, it would quickly go into a direction no one was expecting. Harmless subjects like favourite food were turned into discussion of hanar and salarian meat inspired dishes, attempting to bond over sports lead to him describing the creative fun games of his time period where you abandoned entire teams on a barren planet and left them to fend for themselves, cannibalism ensured, winners were scarce, mostly scarred.

Before it could reach the point where you feared you'd wake up to his face next to you in bed first thing in the morning, you decided to confront him...delicately, of course, with the grace only a cunning human is capable of.

"Javik, why do you keep following me around like we're attached at the hip?"

It's like you could taste the vacuum of space outside the airlock already.

He stared at you, each set of eyes blinking in unison.

"Your company is not as ville inducing as the other primitves. You're not as repulsive to the eyes, either."

Oh.

Oh.

That is the kindnest thing you've heard him say since defrosting him from the fridge.

So what if he sees no point in leaving the room while you're changing because "you primitve humans used to walk around in flimsy fur tatters nearly nude all the time."

At least, he likes you enough to want to stay by your side. You're one of the few lifelines he has left to anchor him into reality—besides his vengeance. To help him adjust and find out where he fits into this strange universe.

For his last memory was a war-plagued galaxy, the destruction of an entire civilisation which thought itself invincible, his civilisation.

Forced to come to terms with the cruel reality of being the only survivor, the last flame left standing in the aftermath of the storm. One pillar to carry the burden of a tremendous legacy, the weight of a long-gone world on his shoulders.

Friends, family, lovers, leaders, heroes, villains, all dead. Ereased, his people's history rewritten and misremembered by the same asari they uplifted, kept hidden by a power-hungry government to further push their agenda, slaves to their own pride.

With time, he'll eventually warm up to the others. Maybe you just happened to remind him of someone he knew long ago, another commander he looked up to, once upon a time. But for now, if serving as his personal emotional support human, a safety blanket in this terrifying abyss of unkown, is what it takes to grant a resemblance of a peace of mind to this soul, the last of his kind, then so be it.

[yodoggo]

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[bestnottoask]

Finnick Odair Seaside Picnic Headcanons

{Masterlist}

Pairing- Finnick Odair x GN Reader

Request- Yes

Summary- Just some headcanons of having a picnic with Finnick on the beach.

Genre- fluff

Warnings- none

A/N- This request was quite vague, so I decided to make it a headcanons post on what a picnic would be like with Finnick Odair. This can be read as romantic or platonic, but it does indicate closer to a romantic relationship. Enjoy!

Word Count- 600

Finnick Odair wakes up in the cold early hours of the morning just to prepare all your favorite foods and snacks, so they are fresh for you to enjoy, before he places them in his hand-made basket. 

Finnick Odair, no matter how much you insisted and tried to help him, he would refuse to let you carry anything other than yourself as you both strolled along to the beach. 

Finnick takes you to a private beach with clear, gentle waves and not a person in sight so you can both have the whole beach to yourselves for as long as you’d like. 

Finnick is scanning every inch of the beach in search of the perfect shells to gift you, and by the end of the day you have been given a large assortment of seashells ready to be made into jewellery. It’s not just shells either, if he sees a flower or a pretty rock on a trail, he will keep it in his pocket until he can give it to you. So, by the end of the day you're the one with rocks filling your pockets. 

Finnick will go for a swim while you enjoy the sunshine from the beach. While swimming Finnick finds another pretty shell and imminently wants to show you. He jogs along the sand back to where you are sitting and shakes his head like a dog covering you in sprinkles of cold seawater and then chuckles at your annoyed reaction before handing you the shell. 

He watches you intensely to see your reaction hoping you like the shell, and of course you do. You make sure he knows how much you love it and appreciates his gifts.  

Finnick will carefully be braiding your hair the second he gets a chance, as you both just talk about anything or just listen to the ocean while enjoying each other's company. 

He collects flowers from nearby and uses his knot tying skills to weave you a flower crown, which you wear until the flowers are completely dried up and then you hang it with the dry flower collection in your house. 

Finnick wouldn’t be upset if it started raining, in fact he would probably like it even more and dance around in the rain on the sand insisting you join him. When you of course agree you mention that there is no music to dance to, so Finnick imminently starts singing a song you both enjoy; only having it occasionally interrupted by both of your laughter. 

Finnick would hold your hand and guide you for a stroll along the shoreline, playfully kicking water at you every so often. 

When the sun has set, and a cool breeze has covered the beach, Finnick doesn’t waste a second in taking off his sweater and wrapping it around you and moving you into his lap to he can keep you warm while you rest your back again his chest and watch the sunset turn into stars. 

You could stay in his arms forever, wrapped in the warmth of his body. You don’t mind that he’s got sand on the same arms that he has wrapped around you, you’re just happy that it's his. 

Finnick Odair who refuses to wear sunscreen claiming that he doesn’t need it despite your best efforts to get him to wear some. The next day he’s burnt all over just as you predicted and he’s begging you to help him put on some moisturizer to which you obviously agree to help with, after teasing him of course. 

[qingyingpocketlirary]

Snapshot 3

There is one rule- no! One LAW Between Yin and Jin.

Never, not ever, ever, no matter who you are, EVER start a fight between the hours of five pm to eight pm on Sundays.

One might ask why and the answer is comically funny.

Sundays are the day when Granny, the sweet old lady who lived across the street from them with her dog, would invite them and their sister Lin over for dinner. Granny didn’t have the best eyesight anymore, but she was still a very good cook and the twin demons swore upon their very souls that Granny’s food was heaven worthy- no! It was GREATER than anything in heaven! She always made enough to feed everyone and even gave them the leftovers. And all she ever asked in return was that they come again the next Sunday.

The twin demons weren’t stupid, despite what people said. They knew the old lady was lonely, they’d seen the pictures on the walls of her little home, a husband, two little boys, all growing up, then a little girl, then a little boy. Framed certificates for some big fancy government company, a pair of old construction worker boots by the door and a man’s jacket that never left its place on the coat hook anymore. They’d seen the shrine to the husband with regular offerings.

They knew, even before Lin mentioned it, that Granny didn’t see her sons or grandkids anymore, and that she lives alone with her dog because her husband had passed away. 

So, they made it an unspoken promise, every Sunday between five pm and eight pm, they were on their very best behaviour. They washed and scrubbed themselves clean and put on their very best clothes, they let Lin wrangle their hair into a respectful style and they brought a fresh bouquet of flowers and a cake with them.

Granny was kind to them, and for Granny, they would be good boys and behave so Granny could be happy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yin and Jin make me happy, so I give them a sweet side that is rarly seen. Also Lin is the name I give th eshedeman whose usualy with them because I see her as an older sister to them since she's often the one dragging them out of the trouble they get into with MK and the Monkie Kids.

Enjoy!!!

[carylerxsecretsanta]

Written For: @theresnosafeharbor4myships

Title: blushing Author: @lola-andheruniverse Rating: T/ Teen and Up Audiences Summary: “Between running for their lives, scavenging non-stop for food, sleeping with one eye open and trying to not to freeze to death, making Daryl blush becomes a welcome distraction to push Carol throughout the winter.” A/N: Dear Michelle, I tried (emphasis on tried) to give you some flirty early Caryl goodness since that’s what you like. It’s set between the S2/S3 interlude and the Governor’s attack on S3. A very short fic, almost a slice-of-life, but I really hope it puts a smile on your face this Christmas. Happy holidays and a beautiful and kind 2025 for you.

                                                             X

It starts small and without purpose, as all seemingly unimportant things usually do.

They both needed a break from the claustrophobic storage units Rick decided should be their home for the foreseeable future because Lori kept getting sick on the road. Daryl wanted to try one more time to hunt something big to fill their stomachs, muttering that there must be some deer out there that those damned walkers hadn’t chewed up yet. Carol wanted to harvest some greens to, at worst, guarantee some kind of soup to warm them up for the night, and at best, serve as a side dish for whatever game he managed to catch. So they leave at dawn, while most of the group are still sleeping bundled together; T-Dog guarding them, chain-smoking at the rooftop.

The early morning air is crisp and invigorating in her lungs. Even though winter is fast approaching, the woods are still vibrant with all the fall colors that the slow rising sun reveals to them. They remind her of Sophia, but today it doesn’t make her heart hurt. Not really. Carol cannot feel or see any sound, smell, or trail that would indicate the proximity of any horde, and the fact that Daryl is walking relaxed beside her rather than in front of her makes her feel confident that her assessment is correct. It’s not the first time she joins him on a hunt. Or to walk the perimeter. Find water or wood to make a fire. After the farm fell, they tended to navigate towards each other. Together, on the outskirts of everything else.

“You seem quite chill today.” She says quietly, crouching down to bag some wild kale.

“Uhm, jus’ like mornings like this. Fresh. Clean.” He takes a deep breath while scanning their surroundings. “Way better than those stinking metal coffins we sleeping in. If Carl keeps taking his nasty shoes off to sleep, I’ll have to cut his feet off.”

Carol snorts. “Be nice. We need to find him some bigger shoes. It’s not Carl’s fault he’s growing and going through hormonal changes. Teenagers smell, Daryl.”

“Not my nose’s fault neither.” He grunts, extending a hand to help her get up.

“Well, you’re really hot, you know?” Carol says, arranging her shoulder bag to make room. “You could always try sleeping outside, at least as long as the temperature isn’t too low.”

When Daryl doesn’t answer, she looks up. His whole face is flushed red and he’s staring at her with a completely new, baffled expression. It takes a beat for Carol to understand what it means.

“Hum…We’re missing daylight.” He murmurs and instantly walks away, almost tripping on an exposed tree root.

Embarrassed.

And it’s such a foreign notion that Daryl Dixon could get so flustered over a poorly phrased sentence like that, that Carol can’t help but file the knowledge away for the near future, while chuckling softly to herself.

                                                             X

Between running for their lives, scavenging non-stop for food, sleeping with one eye open and trying to not to freeze to death, making Daryl blush becomes a welcome distraction to push Carol throughout the winter. She throws silly (but smart) innuendos at him whenever they are alone, sharing some chores or just keeping each other company while avoiding the rest of the group. It takes some of the weight off both of their shoulders, as she finds that Daryl does get flustered easily, but doesn’t really seem to mind her dirty sense of humor. Or her fondness for making him squirm.

Uh, are you glad to see me? She asks every single time she catches Daryl cleaning a gun, with a perfect Mae West impersonation, that paints the tip of his pointy ears bright red. Not really. He always says back, snorting or squinting his eyes in her direction, depending on his mood, but never sending her away or ignoring her presence.

Any compliment Daryl gives her cooking is met with fluttering eyelashes and bright smiles that put a healthy flush on his cheeks. And Carol calls him a dirty, dirty man when Daryl comes back from the woods with so much blood or mud on his clothes that they need to be washed. The more languid her voice, the redder his face becomes.

It is funny and sweet and she can’t get enough of it.

                                                                X

“That’s a big cock.”

Carol happily observes when Daryl comes back from a hunt with three dead chickens and a giant rooster. It’s a Christmas miracle, the last good meal they have before the group is forced to leave the storage units behind because it got too cold to live on bare concrete and metal.

“You’s seriously unhinged, woman, you know that?” Daryl manages to answer back, not before almost choking on his own spit.

No one understands why she keeps laughing throughout the meal, nor why Daryl’s face is as red as a ripe tomato the entire evening.

                                                                X

“It’s pretty romantic. Screw around?”

Daryl double checks before snorting and Carol laughs, feeling as happy as she can get after they conquered the field around the prison that afternoon. A permanent home after so many months on the road.

“I’ll go down first.” Daryl mumbles, a light but very present blush on his cheeks.

“Even better.” She can’t resist. It’s like he’s asking for it.

“Stop.”

                                                                X

“What yah doin’ up?” Daryl asks as he takes the large plastic box she’s carrying from her hands, only to find that it’s empty aside from a blanket. “You should be restin’, woman. You just came back from the dead a few hours ago!”

“Yes, I did, thanks to you.” She answers, resting a hand on one of his upper arms. “I’m feeling fine, Daryl. See, I got cleaned up and all. Back to the living side.”

“Yah sure?” He insists, checking her from head to toe.

“Yes, I am. Look at you, all sweet and worried about me.” Carol teases, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Stahp.” Daryl squints, not without humor in his voice, and she laughs, taking the box from him “What this for, anyway?”

“For the baby. She needs something safe to be put on. She can’t be held all the time. This can work as a crib while we don’t find one.”

“Lil’ ass kicker.” He informs her, matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“Lil’ ass kicker. That’s how I’m callin�� baby girl while Rick and the kid don’t choose a name for her.”

“Of course you are.” Carol feels her heart swell a little bit with affection for the man in front of her. “When are you all leaving to get Maggie and Glenn?”

“Any minute now.”

“Okay. Let me put this on my cell. I’ll see you out.”

Carol doesn’t notice the rubor that takes over Daryl’s face as he watches her walk away.

                                                               X

“He is your brother, but he is not good for you. Don’t let him bring you down.” Carol tells him, like she sees it, because she has to. “After all, look at how far you’ve come.”

Daryl looks all around the cell and back to her, jokingly taking her point as the literal place they come to. She just smiles and shares the small laugh that it’s only theirs, content to be reunited with him, even with everything else changing around them.

                                                             X

“So, what exactly happened out there?” Carol inquires after he joins her in the courtyard. She is sitting on top of one of the tables, rifle resting on her thighs, eyes on the horizon as the sun sets. He mimics her pose with his crossbow.

“Rick and that eye-patched prick talked alone. Me and Hershel stayed out with his men. Had a smoke, talked some shit. Don’t think no one on that side wants no war either, but they have a murderous asshole as their leader. They’ll do as they are told.”

“As we will on our side, you mean?” She asks just for the sake of it.

“Yeah…yeah, ’s we will.” He agrees, sounding defeated.

“War it is.”

They sigh, somewhat synchronized, reluctantly sharing the same loyalty towards their group. Their family. Daryl rests his hand on her shoulder, so very lightly, and Carol turns to look at him.

“No matter what happens, though’, I’ve got your back.” He tells her in a soft but firm voice, looking straight into her eyes.

The air entering her lungs feels too thick to breathe. “I know you do.” She blinks twice and swallows, before putting a cheeky expression on her face and whispering. “You’re my knight in shining leather.”

“Ugh, stop!” Daryl complains, taking the hand off her shoulder and facepalming to hide his blush. “Why are you like this?!”

Carol giggles in response. She rests her head on his shoulder to keep him from escaping, eyes trained on the increasingly dark sky.

“You’re just too easy, that’s why. I can’t help myself.” She says a few moments later, after giving him time to calm a little bit.

“So you saying you have no self control, that’s it?” Daryl retorts.

“That’s pretty much it.” She admits, not feeling a little bit ashamed of herself.

“Yah know? One day, I’ll make you regret all this shit.” He says, as seriously as he can, while tentatively putting his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, and what do you mean by that?” Carol snuggles, testing her luck.

“What I mean is that I will get you when your ass is distracted and you will be the one that gets all hot and red in the face.”

Daryl’s eyes are also trained at the sky, like he is pretending not to acknowledge the half embrace his own arm initiated. By the corner of her eyes, Carol can see that he’s still blushing hard and can’t help to feel the same kind of heat spreading through her own face.

She wishes her own blushing away and responds in a small voice, grateful that he won’t be looking at her face anytime soon. “That doesn’t sound as frightening as you think it does. Quite the opposite.”

“Ugh, just shut up.” Daryl says, squeezing her tighter so she adjusts her body to rest more comfortably next to him. “Impossible woman.”

They stay like that long enough for Carol to formulate three different sexual innuendos that could be used in a life-or-death situation, should they find themselves in one when the Governor comes for them. And for his scent to rub off and linger on her clothes, which would guarantee nighttime blushes, unbeknownst to Daryl.

[verisimilar-entropy]

Lights And Music Are On My Mind

Word count: 687

David can't sleep, he goes crazy in the diner

⋆⋆⁺₊ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆｡ ﾟ｡⋆゜✧*̣̩⋆゜

It was dark, quiet before the lights strobed. Several bright lights that streamed through the diner at a strange hour. Everyone within it was asleep. Leif on top was soundly snoozing in his hammock, or probably willing the universe to test him to its many storms. Maybe both in his dreams.

The Mucklewains within their radio snooze on, quietly drifting its usual quiet broadcast for whoever was awake. A whirl of mystery loom around them always, a partially solved Rubix cube like the diner itself. Like the flurry of color that David found himself confused with now. It was like the time he and a friend from work decided to spend the day during the pandemic tripping on acid. Gawking at the geometric shapes of mundane existence ticking away at the popcorn ceiling held nothing in comparison to...whatever this shit was.

He wasn't tripping was he? A part of him said no but another part of him still wondered. Caspar, his father, was curled up under the booth Ava slept under with a mask. Ava now absent from the spot she tend to slumber underneath from Gloria's explanation when David asked why he seemed like a depressed, old dog curled on the mat. It still seemed terrible on anyone's back but at least it wasn't the direct floor. No matter how much convincing, David couldn't get his dad to move from that spot. He was only met with a sad, tired smile that said more than either of them could really muster feeling and words for. He really was an old retriever. The topic was quickly changed.

David sighs and flops into a booth further away. This was all real, he reasons, they were traveling wherever and right now he had the pleasure of witnessing the diner's confusing process. The only thing he could do right now was eat some of the leftovers Gloria made for the mental turbulence. Everyone had it now and then. It was something to pick at and keep the mind and body warm and some company while everyone else was asleep. It came in handy and it was better than some of his night time activities before he took to the streets painting and spraying things to help his mind calm.

That wasn't such a bad idea. David thought to himself and chewed as he stared out at the color, the flashes, the lights. It reminded him of an old Doctor Who episode. A long drawn out sound of its transportation played only in his head, whirring, it was something he could grasp onto. Something easy to comprehend as it relentlessly continues. Just like that acid trip that kept his mind rolling. Remolding his mind until he felt like his soul was being rattled through a rock tumbler. He supposes this all isn't much different even if he's not in control of the trip. He wasn't in control of Pasadena going to shit either.

But he can control two things. Color and shapes. Quietly, while others slept, he changed around the tables of the diner that moved. Silent enough to not disturb his slumbering father across the restaurant. The space appearing more open and breathable. Especially for Gloria, who had to truly navigate it, aside from Caspar serving food. And let's face it, he didn't pay much mind to if the table and footwork were here or there. The pieces that weren't bolted down, heavy, and loud got a renovation on the spot. An optic illusion of the mind to match the space he needed in his head.

Stepping away, he let his mind fade with the colors flashing. Red, blue, mint, yellow, a color he couldn't register, lavender, pink, and it goes on. He tries to decide which colors look the best on the diner's interior. A few colors repeating, a few in different hues, a few more unrecognizable. Some even appeared in shades.

Then he made notes, accents attributed to colors he liked on the potential layout of the diner's insides. Next stop with places that had paint, he'd get to exploring and plaster them up. Something fresh to liven up the staff's spirits. A new mess to look at.

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

Gifts

Angela Ziegler stirred awake slowly, the faint glow of morning light filtering through the curtains of Moira’s flat. The night before had been quiet and intimate, the two of them sitting by the fire with glasses of wine, sharing stories and rare glimpses of vulnerability. Angela had fallen asleep curled against Moira’s side, lulled by the rhythmic sound of her breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace.

She stretched slightly, her fingers brushing over the cool spot on the bed where Moira had been. Frowning, she opened her eyes half lidded to find herself alone before sleep took its hold once again.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Moira stood at the stove, clad in a loose sweater and a pair of casual black pants, her usually sharp features softened by the relaxed morning. She moved with purpose but uncharacteristic care, flipping pancakes and stirring a pan of scrambled eggs. A pot of coffee brewed on the counter, its rich aroma filling the room alongside the scent of roasted potatoes.

At her feet sat Maddox, her Doberman, watching her every move with quiet anticipation.

“Not yet,” Moira murmured to him, her voice low but affectionate. She gave him a small piece of potato, which he took delicately before wagging his tail. “You’ll get your turn soon.”

The table was already set, adorned with simple yet elegant plates and a sprig of holly Angela had brought with her the night before. Moira glanced over at the small tree in the corner of the room, its modest decorations glowing softly. Beneath it sat a few neatly wrapped gifts, their presence almost startling in Moira’s typically austere space.

With everything in place, she knelt beside Maddox, scratching behind his ears. “Go wake her up,” she said softly, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Maddox needed no further prompting. He trotted off toward the bedroom, tail wagging as he nosed the slightly ajar door open.

Angela woke to the sensation of warm, enthusiastic nudges and the sound of an excited huff.

“Maddox,” she mumbled, blinking as the dog jumped onto the edge of the bed, his tail thumping against the sheets. He licked her cheek, and she laughed, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. “Okay, okay, I’m up!”

The smell of breakfast reached her then, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. She glanced toward the bedroom door, her heart warming at the thought of Moira in the kitchen. Sliding out of bed, she followed Maddox, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When she stepped into the living room, Angela froze, her lips parting in surprise.

The little tree in the corner, which had been bare when she arrived, now had a few gifts nestled beneath it, their wrapping precise and understated. The table was laden with breakfast—golden pancakes stacked high, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy potatoes, and a carafe of fresh coffee. Moira stood by the stove, plating the last of the food, her sharp golden eyes lifting to meet Angela’s.

“Good morning,” Moira said, her voice low but warm. “You’re up just in time.”

Angela pressed a hand to her chest, her smile soft and genuine. “Moira... this is incredible. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Moira replied, walking over and setting the plate on the table. “I never have company for the holidays...So I wanted to make it special.”

Angela’s heart ached at the subtle vulnerability in Moira’s tone. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Moira’s waist and leaning her head against her shoulder. “Thank you. This is the best Christmas morning I could ask for.”

Moira hesitated for only a moment before relaxing into the embrace, resting her hand lightly on Angela’s back. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

Angela pulled back, her eyes bright as she took Moira’s hand and led her to the table.

As they ate, laughter filled the small flat, their conversation ranging from teasing remarks about Maddox’s antics to reminiscing about Christmases past. Angela couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt to be here with Moira, to see the softer sides of her that few were allowed to witness.

When the plates were cleared and the coffee poured, Angela knelt by the tree, picking up one of the gifts with her name written in Moira’s elegant handwriting.

“You didn’t,” Angela said, her voice tinged with surprise and delight.

“I did,” Moira replied, sipping her coffee. “Though don’t expect anything extravagant.”

Angela opened the package carefully, her eyes lighting up as she pulled out a leather-bound journal embossed with delicate gold details. “It’s beautiful,” she said, running her fingers over the cover.

“I know you sketch your garden flowers, so I thought this'd be better than your old sketchbook.” Moira said, her tone casual, though her eyes flickered with a hint of nervousness.

Angela looked up, her gaze filled with affection. “I love it. Thank you.”

She set the journal aside and leaned over to kiss Moira’s cheek, her lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Moira turned her head slightly, their eyes meeting before Angela pressed another kiss, this time to her lips, soft and lingering.

When they pulled apart, Angela smiled, her voice soft. “Merry Christmas, Moira.”

Moira’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Merry Christmas, Angela.”

Maddox barked from his spot by the fire, as if to punctuate the moment. Laughter bubbled up between them, filling the flat with warmth and love that no winter chill could touch.

[bluelolblue]

My Love Mine All Mine

Note: October 26th was the date my cat Vitko, my best childhood friend, passed away. It's been 8 or 9 years since he passed away, and I still mourn him. He was a beautiful white cat with green eyes, a majestic little gentleman, and I like to think he looks after my dog Lara and me. I chose the title "My Love Mine All Mine," which is a song by Mitski because it really reminds me of him and because of course I still love him so much.

So, this ficlet is a tribute to him. He deserves it, and I still miss him 🤍

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“I miss you my friend.” Santino would always say after returning back home. A few pictures of his childhood pet, a beautiful white cat were still on his desk, keeping him company every time.

Santino loved animals, especially dogs and cats, he would always feed the strays if he had something with him. Anything to keep them alive. However he prepared himself better, bought cat food for the stray cats that would spend their time in his garden.

There was a black, tuxedo, orange and a tortoiseshell one and she was the only female. They all looked the same age, they were young, so Santino guessed they were siblings. D'Antonio garden became their home once they realized Santino wouldn't hurt or chase them. They were all unique, each had their personalities and Santino thought that was amazing. He would often watch them through his window how they would play, clean each other, eat together but also respect each other.

Today, he went to feed them again. They greeted him with lots of meowing and rubbing against his legs, making him almost trip over them but he managed to get to the bowls.

“I know, you all are probably very hungry. It's not like I fed you in the morning,” he smiled to himself as he poured some dry cat food into the bowls. “Just don't eat too fast.” Well, they immediately started eating, probably a bit faster for a start.

Young D'Antonio smiled and shaked his head, finding them cute how they were eating like they never ate before. He sat by a small table next to cats to watch them. The garden was pretty, maybe a little sad ever since his mother died, but if the cats still liked it, he liked it too. After all, too many memories to just give up on it.

The orange cat rubbed against his leg, wrapping its tail around and loudly purring. Santino leaned to pet his head and scratch his favorite spot behind his ear. He would always think they thank him for the food that way, when they come for scratches and pats. “You're very pretty… why are you a stray?” D'Antonio murmured softly as the cat purred some more and rubbed its face over his leg. “Why did you choose this place to spend time?”

Other cats joined them, lying down, cleaning themselves, purring next to Santino. He knew a lot of work was waiting for him in his office, but he didn't want to leave, not when it was a nice afternoon, the cats were fed and the air felt fresh. “I just want to stay here a little longer,” he sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling the air, relaxing to the sound of cats purring. He could've dozed off like this, it was calm, there was no yelling, no people, just him, cats and the breeze rustling through the leaves.

He opened his eyes again after the cat food bag fell over from the wind, blinking as he realized he almost fell asleep. He winced when made a sudden movement, already almost getting stiff like this. “I'll make myself coffee,” he said and groaned as he stood up. “And write down that I need to buy new chairs.”

The cats waited patiently for their… friend to return back, a tuxedo one watched Santino through the glass door, flipping his tail playfully as if he was asking D'Antonio to play with him.

“What is it, little one?” Santino asked softly as he walked back outside with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Little gentleman,” he chuckled. It's a nickname he had given to the tuxedo one.

He sat back at his spot and took a few sips of his beverage, enjoying the company of his little friends. Animals were better than people, they would never hurt him physically or emotionally, never insult him, never take advantage of him, never use him just to get what they want. They are grateful for what Santino was doing for them, every animal showed that in their own way.

Santino looked back into the garden where the roses were and noticed something. There was a white cat. At first he wasn't sure if his tired eyes were playing tricks on him, so he blinked a few times and realized that it was a real white cat. He placed his cup on the table, and took a few pieces of dry food so he could get it to trust him better. It reminded him of his best childhood friend.

The cat was near the roses, sniffing them and the ground, it looked relaxed and was not altered when Santino came closer. It looked up at him with its green eyes.

“Oh, hi… you're beautiful,” he said softly as he crouched down and let the cat sniff his hand. He couldn't stop looking at it, observing it. It was a male, his fur was pure white, he didn't even look like a stray. “Are you lost? Or… were you abandoned?” He felt silly asking that, obviously a cat won't answer him.

He gave him a few pieces of cat food and the cat ate out of his hand just fine. Surely this was someone's cat. “You look so familiar,” he whispered as he scratched under the feline's chin, and it looked like the cat loved it, purring loudly.

The feline rubbed against his leg, already leaving white hair over his pants but he didn't care, he continued to pet him. “You look just like him. He was beautiful, majestic like you, had those pretty green eyes and loved to cuddle.” It's been years since his childhood pet passed away, and he was still thinking about him, still had every picture he could find.

He was taking care of him the most, feeding him, playing with him, letting him sleep on his bed with him. Santino's father usually complained about the cat hair, since it was white it was more visible on anything and Signore D'Antonio hated seeing cat hair on his pants or sheets or anywhere. He hated Santino's cat, he wanted him gone, but luckily Santino had his mother and Gianna who were on his side, so the cat stayed for some time.

“So many tears were spilled into his fur, I spent nights crying into him. I felt bad for soaking his fur like that, but he didn't seem to mind. He was purring, always trying to calm me down,” Santino said, smiling at the feline but his smile looked mournful. “I miss him. He was the best cat I've ever had, my only friend, my everything.”

It looked like the cat was actually paying attention to his words and meowed at him, pushing its head against his palm for more pats. D'Antonio took a deep breath in and out, swallowing his sudden urge to cry. Dammit, it hurt his throat and chest, just like it always did.

“You're too sweet. Oh, you're really like him,” he breathed out with a shaky laugh. “You must be hungry and there are others who could be your new friends.” He stood up, looking over the four cats who were relaxing nearby. He whispered to the white cat, offering one more treat so he would follow him.

Other cats seemed interested, sniffing and greeting the majestic white feline that joined them. “Ah, you're getting along,” Santino smiled and poured some fresh cat food into a bowl only for the new member.

D'Antonio returned back to his coffee, watching over the cat enjoying the meal. He doesn't remember the last time he had seen a white stray cat, they were rare, unique and they all reminded him of his cat.

“I'm sure he would've liked you if he…” Santino paused and exhaled slowly, “Was still alive. Like… an older brother.” The white feline looked up at him, ate only a little bit and walked towards him, purring and having its tail up.

Santino hummed in surprise after he took a sip of his coffee and the cat jumped on his lap. “Oh, hey,” he chuckled softly, gently caressing the cat's head, going along his back. “You're really here for the cuddles, huh?” It looked like that was true since the feline nested on his lap, as if he was ready for a nap on Santino.

Other cats seemed to get ready for a nap, too. Snuggling against each other on the floor next to Santino's legs. “Afternoon nap, I see,” D'Antonio smiled, gently caressing the back of the white cat’s neck. “I hope you'll stay. I… I hope you're no one's cat because I really want to keep you. Or… at least that you visit me every day.” That would be nice. He was even ready to let this one in his house.

The nostalgia that hit Santino overwhelmed him for some time. The memories that he still cherished, playing in the garden with his best friend who was a cat… a place he buried him. Something was stinging his eyes, he blinked, realizing that was because of the tears he was holding back.

“He wasn't supposed to die… if only I was more careful. If only I was there,” Santino whispered, “I should've been a better owner… a better friend. But, dammit…” he cursed under his breath, “It wasn't fair that it happened.”

It was better not to think about it again, for his own sake. He should be happy, there is the exact same cat in his lap right now. The cat could probably feel Santino's emotions, leaning into his palm and purring loudly.

Santino decided he should enjoy this moment, it reminded him of the good days and he should relax. So, he did exactly that, his hand was resting on top of the white cat while with the other he continued to hold his cup of coffee. It was better to rest after a long morning of meeting with different business people who were loud and only wanted to argue with him. Sure, he himself had a silver tongue, most people thought he was a ruthless mafia boss and he was, but he wasn't just that.

It was a pretty view from afar, to see Santino D'Antonio with cats, outside of his business. He probably wouldn't seem that serious if anyone saw him like this. Only one man would never judge him, knowing that Santino has a soft soul. So soft it got crushed by life, deformed until it became a violent thing.

John watched him by his car, noticing that gentle smile on D'Antonio's face as he patted the cat. It was not something anyone could see often, a Camorra prince surrounded with stray cats. Seeing him truly happy was always heartwarming, at least for John and he wished he saw him more like this.

The white cat looked adorable in his lap, Santino was murmuring something to it, John noticed. He didn't want to disturb Santino's peace, so he stayed where he was, observing him for a few more minutes, enjoying a rare moment.

That white cat was probably going to stay for a longer time.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for abandoning my assistant at our new job?

I (22F) am a grocery store department manager and my assistant (26F) is my best friend. We previously worked at nice, low-volume, good work culture type store for a year and a half together while she was still a clerk. The notoriously horrible and constantly-falling-apart store down the street suddenly had two openings for our department for manager and assistant manager. She was definitely overqualified to become an assistant and I had good reports as the manager at this location, and thought we could work some magic on that place and really shape it up. So we made a plan, applied for the transfer and we were accepted. Once we started working there the department started performing amazingly and the people within the department were very happy with us as the new management crew.

Two issues - number 1 there is a store assistant manager who is racist, homophobic, and sexually harasses employees (she has 15+ HR complaints against her and it’s beyond me why corporate doesn’t fire her). She has targeted my assistant and within her first 5 days of working there, she wanted to call for a replacement, and called her lazy. I knew about this person before transferring but my assistant didn’t. I warned her beforehand and encouraged her to use the corporate HR hotline to report any and all behavior. (I have been a victim of this lady too, she asks me invasive sexual questions…)

Number 2 - I am now being worked 7 days a week, 10-12 hour days, and various start times anywhere between midnight and 1 pm. I’ll be off at 4 pm from a day shift, have to go back in at midnight, work midnight to noon, and then cover the evening call out by going in for another 2 hours from 4pm-6pm. Because I’m the manager, I can be worked like a dog but other people are not allowed to even stay an hour of overtime per week. My sleep deprivation has led me to faint, be hospitalized, miss doctors appointments, etc. All around awful. My store managers recognize that I’m suffering but due to corporate standards for scheduling, there is no escaping this, unless I want to make my poor assistant go through what I’m going through, which I refuse to allow another person to experience this.

I can’t take it anymore. I finally broke when I showed up to a scheduled overnight shift 2.5 hrs late due to pure exhaustion, and started having hallucinations on shift. Corporate surprised us at 8 am that day and gave my department a bad review, and I broke down in the middle of the sales floor in front of corporate, customers, and my store managers screaming “FUCK THIS I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ANYMORE.”

I was surprised that I wasn’t fired but store management was surprised that I didn’t walk out. I didn’t because I have rent to pay. But the incident finally made me realize that this store is hurting my health and I’ve decided to send applications out to other jobs. Stepping down within the company or transferring back to the old store is not an option because department head is not open and even if I stepped down, they’d still work me like a department manager because they know what work I’m capable of. I want something new, a fresh clean slate.

However my assistant very badly needed this pay raise and guaranteed full time contract. She wouldn’t leave. She has an upcoming wedding and needs to put food on the table for her child. She is my best friend outside of work and we’re very close. I would feel terrible abandoning her in an already shitty work situation that I dragged her into - it was my idea and my reference for her promotion. I made promises to take care of a certain portion of duties if she did another portion. If I left, it would be ALL on her, job of both assistant and manager either as an assistant or if she’s offered manager. Either way, that would be a worse schedule than what I’m going through right now. And she would have to deal with that terrible store assistant alone. Anyways, I’d be scared to lose her friendship if I left. But I can’t take it anymore. She recognizes that too, however, she’s sympathetic to the literal medical faults my schedule is causing.

I feel like it’s my fault that she got harassed in the first place, and I feel like it’s my fault that she’s now unhappy with her job. I don’t want to lose my best friend.

WIBTA for leaving my job?

What are these acronyms?