#but thank you for the head's up on the third

[aeluteria]

Pillows and glass walls

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ summary: you develop a habit surrounding yourself with pillows when you sleep — as if trying to replicate certain someone's presence. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ pairing: MC!reader x Caleb ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ word count: 1,666 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ general info: hurt/comfort, fluff, not established relationship, longing Caleb if you look really close act surprised here ────── ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ notes: proofread four times and all but it's possible there's still some mistakes since English isn't my first language. Enjoy!

After Caleb’s death, you’re haunted by nightmares, and you get used to sleeping surrounded by pillows. There’s something comforting about the way they press against your body from all sides, almost wrapping you in their softness. The pretty spacious bed narrows down to about half a meter all thanks to at least four pillows around you. One under your head, one in front of you, one under your arm, and one behind your back. The desperate longing for the phantom sensation of something's — someone's — presence is almost unbearable.

When you and Caleb used to stay up late watching yet another late-night show, he would often fall asleep next to you, allowing you to throw your arms and legs over him, even if it meant he’d have to spend the rest of the night in the same and probably — definetely — not so comfortable position. He knew he would wake you up the moment he tried to move away. Back then, you shared the narrow seat of the sofa in the gran's living room, squeezed together with your limbs intertwined.

Now, you try to recreate that feeling by placing a pillow behind your back, nearly trapping yourself between it and the one you so habitually throw your arm and leg over. The pillows are too soft; they don’t compare to Caleb’s strong, toned body, which you remember so clearly in your embrace. But… it’s something, at least. 

It becomes your ritual — a small tradition you follow almost religiously, day after day. 

One pillow goes under your head — as it should, just like most people sleep. 

The second one is tucked behind your back — a barrier, a false sense of protection, because you don’t like to sleep with your back exposed. 

The third one you hug, throwing a leg over it, pressing it as close as possible in an attempt to recreate that warm, familiar embrace. 

The fourth, the smallest, goes under your free elbow, covering your side and chest. 

You pull the blanket over yourself, hiding beneath its soft folds. And finally, you allow the warmth and weight to lull you to sleep.

The same ritual every night. 

A quirk that has become a necessity. 

Sometimes you wonder if it should be the first and only thing on your list of bad habits.

──────

After Caleb’s return, you continue sleeping surrounded by pillows. Caleb notices. Of course he does — how could he not? — and silently buys you a few more pillows, leaving them in your room in his Skyhaven apartment. He doesn’t ask where you got this habit from, but you feel like he’s already figured it out. Staying over at his place, you don’t change your ritual, turning the huge bed into a plush-pillow sanctuary. 

Caleb is back, but it feels like he’s further away from you than ever. The bed sheets and blanket smell of his cologne — fresh, familiar — and in those fragile evening moments, you desperately want to believe that you and Caleb are truly home again. 

That the muffled muttering from the living room isn’t reports and endless briefings that follow Caleb even outside of work — but the forgotten TV, its volume turned down to a minimum. 

That the lights of the city breaking through the curtains are in fact soft moonlight, cradling the summer night in its embrace. 

That you’re not in this big, almost lifeless apartment desperately clutching a pillow — but on a couch in the not-so-big gran's living room holding a drowsy Caleb, wrapped in the warmth of summer that you’ll spend together.

Caleb has returned to your life. But now, it feels like there’s a glass wall between you — right where the warmth, the tenderness, the infinite trust used to be.

It’s starting to crack. And behind the cracks you can sense all these familiar feelings and emotions trying to break through. But it’s not enough. 

You’re afraid that this glass wall will never shatter.

Even after Caleb’s return you’re still haunted by nightmares. Waking from them in the quiet of your own home became familiar long ago. But in the silence of the room at Skyhaven screaming in desperation and fear feels almost like a crime. You cover your mouth with your palm, your fingers tremble. The bed is a mess, pillows scattered across the floor except the one under your head. The nightmare’s grim reality still flickers in your mind, and you blink rapidly, trying to push it away. You don’t hear hurried footsteps down the hallway, only noticing them when they stop with the sound of a door opening. Caleb is standing in the doorway — disheveled from sleep, but alert and tense, like a spring ready to snap at any moment. He quickly scans the room, and finding no danger, softly approaches the bed, sitting on the edge. The mattress dips under his weight, and you hurriedly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, brushing away the tears. But Caleb still notices.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is slightly hoarse from sleep, and a wave of shame and guilt rises in your chest and washes over you. You nod quickly — too quickly for it to seem truly sincere.

“Yeah, I just… just had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you.”

Caleb reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It takes a lot not to lean into his touch, seeking comfort. Caleb notices — he himself touches your cheek with his palm, and you press into it, closing your eyes for a moment to catch your breath. Caleb caresses your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the damp trails of your tears. 

For a moment, it feels like the world narrows down to the two of you sitting across from each other. 

Almost like before, almost like in the past. 

Except that now everything feels completely different.

“Don’t apologize, pipsqueak. Want me to make you some warm herbal tea? It’ll help you calm down.” 

You know there are only a few hours left before his alarm goes off, but despite that he’s still willing to spend those precious minutes with you. You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head with a faint smile.

“I’m fine, really.” “You’re still crying.”

Caleb traces a finger up your cheek to the corner of your eye, wiping the tear with his thumb. In his gaze you see familiar concern, warmth, and endless tenderness — and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

Like you’re back on the narrow couch in the gran's living room, lazily debating who will fall asleep first. 

Like you're back in those carefree days when the biggest problem was deciding which flavor of ice cream to choose.

Like you’re back together for the whole summer, and even the coming separation when his vacation ends won’t overshadow this precious time. 

You reach out to him, wrapping your arms around his chest in the familiar gesture, nuzzling your face in the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower gel and closing your eyes. You feel him hold you back almost immediately. Like he was waiting for this. His breath catches for just a moment, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat quickening by a dozen beats per minute. Your heart seems to echo his.

“I dreamed that you…” “Shh, don’t think about it.” 

Caleb strokes your back, and you feel the warmth of his hands even through your clothes. 

“I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

He briefly kisses your forehead, touch almost ghostly on your skin.

“Caleb?..”

He pulls back slightly, looking at you with those impossibly beautiful sunset-colored eyes, and your heart tightens with unbearable tenderness. You gently touch his cheek, almost as if trying to make sure he’s real, that he’s really here, that he’s truly not going anywhere. Caleb turns his head and softly kisses the center of your palm.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks in surprise. In the dim light of the room you see his lips curl into a smile, the features of his face soften, and the worry fades from his eyes. Caleb lies down beside you, like he’s done so many times before, pulling you closer and holding you tight. His chest rises and falls, and you rest your hand on it. The cool metal of his pendant brushes against your skin, and you gently trace its contours with your finger. Caleb slowly runs his fingers through your hair, and you feel his breath on your forehead.

“I’ll stay with you forever. Just ask me.” 

He slowly strokes your back. 

His touch barely there, almost hesitant — as if he's afraid to disturb the fragility of the moment.

“...stay with me forever.”

You echo, closing your eyes as sleep takes over. Caleb pulls the blanket over both of you, and the warmth surrounds you completely. You finally let go, surrendering to sleep.

You don't realize that for the first time in many nights you didn’t even think about the pillows scattered on the floor.

You won’t need them tonight. 

And something in you wants to believe that from this very moment you’ll never need them at all.

The glass wall between you and Caleb seems to crack once more — and this crack is deeper than all of those before.

And through it, that familiar and long-awaited warmth breaks through, almost searing in its wake.

“No one will dare to separate us. Never again. I promise.”

He kisses your forehead briefly and his lips linger on your skin just a little longer than necessary. Then they slide down, brushing your cheek, teasingly touching the tip of your nose. Finally, they come to rest near the corner of your mouth.

You’re absolutely sure this warm touch of his lips so dangerously close to your own was just a dream.

And just as absolutely, you’re not sure you’ll ever admit to yourself that you don’t mind these kinds of dreams at all.

[dreamdragonkadia]

would you consider writing a jealous xaden riorson? please andd thank youuu 🥹🥹

I thought about writing this into a spicy scene, but I am so out of practice that I didn't want to mess it up. x.riorson x reader

You hadn’t thought to bring it up. Not because you were hiding anything—but because it just... hadn’t mattered. It had been before becoming a rider. Before the Gauntlet. Before Threshing. Before Xaden Riorson had started looking at you like the world might crack in two if you didn’t make it through the next challenge.

You and Septon Izar had ended things cleanly, amicably, and left it at that. He’d been a friend before, and somehow, he still was—one of the few people who hadn’t flinched when you first started sitting with the marked ones. Honestly, his support during that time had meant more than you'd ever said aloud.

And honestly? Since Xaden? You hadn’t thought about Septon once. And maybe, maybe, you had mentioned it to Xaden. In passing. At most.

But judging by the sudden silence that swept through the dining hall—and the way Xaden’s head snapped toward you the second Septon opened his mouth—you definitely hadn’t mentioned that part.

"I think we only had sex twice," Septon said casually, sipping from his cup like he hadn’t just tossed a live drake into the center of the table. “And both times we were pretty drunk.”

You blinked.

What?

Your fork hovered above your plate as the table fell into a mixture of choked laughter and stunned silence. Garrick muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like oh shit. Nyra was already dragging her hands down her face. Bodhi looked delighted. Of course he did—this had his meddling written all over it.

You squinted up at Septon. “Man, that was so long ago, I barely remember.”

Xaden didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Not when you could feel the way his gaze landed on you—deadly calm, unreadable, and very, very still.

Someone coughed. Garrick kicked Bodhi under the table. Septon, gods bless his complete lack of self-preservation, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it meant anything,” he added, glancing between you and Xaden with a shrug. “We were just—”

"Don’t," Xaden said, voice low and even, but it carried like a cold front.

The entire table froze.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you turned your attention down the table, “Nyra, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about your physical escapades. Please, if we’re airing things out, do share.”

There was a pause.

Then Nyra leaned back with a knowing small grin. “Which year?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Nyra launched into a truly unhinged story involving a third-year from Rider’s Quadrant, two years ago and a storage closet full of training gear.

Everyone moved on.

Except you.

Because while the rest of the table erupted into laughter, Bodhi caught your eye and gave you a subtle salute—good luck with that—and Xaden’s shadows curled around your calves in a slow, possessive climb.

You had really thought that would be it. Completely and utterly it. There was nothing there.

You and Septon were barely a footnote, a hiccup in your timeline. But clearly, someone at the table had missed that memo—and that someone was now walking three paces behind you, silent, shadows brushing the edge of your steps like a warning.

You turned the corner just past the gym hall, fully intending to head toward the dorms, but a hand caught your arm—not rough, but firm—and suddenly, you were being pulled into a recessed archway you hadn’t even noticed.

Xaden didn’t speak at first.

Just looked at you.

That onyx stare that made it feel like he was peeling back your skin to see what was underneath. His jaw was tight, shadows curling restlessly around his boots.

“You’re mad,” you said flatly.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m…” He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to force the word back in. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you shot back, arms folding. “It was nothing, Xaden. It was before.”

His brow twitched. “I watched him look at you like he still wanted something.”

“He was talking to Bodhi!”

“He was talking to you.”

You stared at him, pulse thrumming harder than it should’ve been. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

His shadows surged, crawling up your spine like a storm about to break.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

Your back hit the wall.

His hand came to rest beside your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His voice dropped lower, into that gravel-smooth edge that made your knees a little unstable.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth, “and I don’t like being surprised.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

And because your pride had a death wish, you arched a brow and said, “Well, maybe I do.”

That was apparently the final straw.

He kissed you like it was a declaration, like he had to remind you—remind himself—that he knew every part of you better than anyone ever had. His hands found your hips, grip just shy of rough, and your fingers curled in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto before the ground gave way.

“Tell me again,” he said against your lips, voice thick with something that wasn't just anger, “how it meant nothing.”

Your breath caught—because you couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. The only thing that mattered.

“It didn’t,” you whispered, barely audible. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He lingered there, just for a second, his forehead brushing yours as if he was searching for the truth in your skin. And then, with no more warning than a flick of his shadows, he pulled back just enough to say, “Come with me.”

You followed him without thinking.

Past cadets loitering in the halls, past flickering sconces and low murmurs, up flights of stairs that you barely registered because your heart was thundering in your chest. Xaden didn’t look back once—but his shadows stayed close, curling possessively around your wrist like a tether, a silent mine whispered over and over again in the dark.

By the time you reached his room, your pulse was high in your throat.

He opened the door, stepped inside—and then, just as you were about to follow, his hand shot out.

And pulled you in.

Hard.

You stumbled, but only for a heartbeat—because he was already there, catching you, pinning you back against the closed door with a thud that echoed in the silence.

“You think I care that it happened before me?” he murmured, his mouth brushing along your jaw, your neck. “I don’t.”

You shivered.

“I care that you didn’t tell me,” he continued, his hand sliding to your waist, hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. “I care that he thought he could say your name like that. Look at you like that.”

“Xaden—”

“I’m not going to be polite about it,” he interrupted, voice a low rasp. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay hearing another man talk about what’s mine like it’s some casual memory.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth again, softer this time. A contrast to the words that came next.

“You’re not his story to tell.”

Your breath hitched.

“You want to tell me it meant nothing?” he asked, gaze catching yours with such intensity it felt like a command. “Then let me show the world who you belong with.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him down.

And he did.

[buck-star]

just read your ‚having to use your safeword‘ and loved it!!!!

got me thinking more about protective bucky during/before sex hehehe

what if reader is really drunk after a night out and while bucky wants to fuck her, he decides she’s too drunk

Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed “using your safe word” with Bucky Barnes. The idea is amazing, thank you!

Mention of sexual content

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Imagine you and Bucky went out, having a few drinks and you’re already tipsy while Bucky is completely sober. No surprise, he can drink as much as he wants and doesn’t get drunk, but he also doesn’t like too much alcohol, wanting to make sure he has a clear mind to take care of you.

So while Bucky’s sober, you’re tipsy, maybe even more than tipsy. He didn’t let you have the third drink you asked for, already chuckling when you stumbled over your own feet in the bar.

Bucky led you out of the bar, his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist to steady your movements. When you’re safely home Bucky helps you out of your shoes and jacket before he carries you into your shared bedroom.

“Need you, Buck,” you whine, grinding your hips against Bucky’s, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. Your fingers comb through his soft, brown locks, tugging slightly at them until Bucky groans. “Please, Buck.”

Your whines and breathy moans against his mouth make him go crazy, your cunt rubbing over his hardening cock. Bucky lays you down on the bed, thrusting his hips against yours, letting you feel his thick length through his pants.

“You want me, babydoll?” Bucky asks, grinning when your moans get more desperate and your fingers curl further into his hair. You nod your head, rubbing yourself against him. “Say it, babydoll.”

“Wants,” you whine, your head rolling to the side. Your eyes unfocused and Bucky immediately notices it. He stops the grinding of his hips, kissing your jaw, nose and forehead to sooth your whining. “Want you, Buck.”

“Shhhh, you can’t even focus on me, babydoll. As much as I want to make love to you or even fuck you into the mattress, but you can’t give me full consent.” Bucky says softly, his lips trailing softly along your soft skin. You whimper, pushing your hips up to get some friction but Bucky pins your waist down with his hands and shakes his head softly.

“But ‘m your girl, Buck.” You whine, your voice slurring and you try to focus on your boyfriend but somehow the haze in your mind clouds everything. You’re way too drunk. Your fingers still tangled in Bucky’s hair when you pull him closer to your, connecting both of your lips.

“I know you’re my girl. And it makes me the happiest man,” he assures you, pecking your lips. “I won’t use you being drunk to my advantage. You’re my girl and that makes me responsible for you, so no naughty, funny business tonight, pretty girl.”

You pout but don’t discuss with him, Bucky takes off your dress, followed by his clothes before he tugs the two of you into bed. His arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you close against his warm, muscular body.

“In the morning we can do all the funny business my girl desires. I love you, babydoll,” he hums, kissing your forehead while you curl into his chest, sighing softly. Bucky smiles softly when you press your lips against his chest. His heart beating softly against his ribcage, allowing you to drift off to sleep in the warmth of your boyfriend’s embrace.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

[zepskies]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's extra something special, all right. 😩

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

Omg Happy early Birthday!! 💕

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 8.7K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

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

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

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

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

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

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

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

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

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

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

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You utter a breathy laugh.

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

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

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

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

Goddamn…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

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

“Dean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

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

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

“Hey, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

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

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tease him with a wink.

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

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

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

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

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

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

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

“What kind of thing?”

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

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No such luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something wrong?” he asks.

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Time in Part 2:

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

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@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[onceinablueberrymoon]

lemon pie | husband!salesman x reader

scenario: you have a craving for lemon pie. the salesman is on the case. setting: before season 2 word count: 1.1k warnings: mention of gambling addiction; second and third person POVs; no use of y/n; recruiter is called salesman here notes: this was originally for pi day, but i rewrote this way too many times💀 gi-hun is not the target this time (surprisingly!). just a simple fluff piece with classic squid game vibes :) please enjoy! borders by @enchanthings-a!

4 p.m.

It was finally time to clock out. 

You stretched your arms above your head and let out a yawn. 

At least it was the weekend, you thought. It had been a rough week at work and you were just relieved it was finally over.

You decided to get a little something to cheer you up. A pie. Not just any pie, but your local bakery’s house special: lemon pie.

Checking the time, you concluded that there wouldn’t be enough time for you to get to the bakery before it closed. Then, you had an idea. Your husband was working at home today. Maybe he could get to the bakery in time?

You sent him a message.

Really craving lemon pie from that bakery. Could you pick one up?

Your husband replied almost instantly, promising to get you your pie. You couldn’t help but smile as you packed up your things. He really was the best!

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

The familiar chime of a bell rang as the salesman entered the bakery. The smell of baked goods wafted through the air. The bakery wasn't very busy, thankfully. Only one customer was at the counter, a man.

The salesman went to stand behind him, patiently waiting for his turn. The man in front of him didn’t take long, soon leaving with a plastic bag in hand. 

“Hello,” the salesman greeted the cashier. “I would like one of your lemon pies.”

She frowned slightly. “Unfortunately, the last pie was sold to the gentleman who just left.” 

“I see,” the salesman mused, pondering what to do next. You were really counting on that pie to lift your spirits. “Thank you,” he bowed slightly to the cashier before leaving the bakery. 

Once the salesman stepped out, he spotted the man walking across the street. An idea popped into his head.

He followed the man to the nearest subway station. Once on the platform, he made his move.

“Hello, sir. Could I talk with you?”

The man looked confused. “Sure? Can I help you?”

The salesman smiled politely. “I would like to make you an offer. Have you played ddakji before?”

The man chuckled. “The kids game? Of course.” He paused. “Why?”

The salesman clicked open his briefcase to reveal stacks of won bills. The man gasped.

“If you win, I’ll give you 100,000 won.” 

The man’s eyes widened into saucers. 

“But if you lose…” The salesman looked down at the plastic bag in the man’s hand. “You give me your pie.” 

The man looked at the bag, then back at the salesman. “It’s my daughter’s birthday. This pie is her favourite dessert…” He seemed conflicted.

“We don’t have to play,” The salesman said as he began closing his briefcase.

“Wait!”

The salesman smirked. No one could resist the allure of money. 

“I’ll… I’ll play.” The man looked desperate. 

The salesman gave his signature smile. 

“Then, let’s get started.”

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

“There’s no way-! One more round!” 

The two men played five rounds before the salesman spoke up.

“I believe I’ve won.” The salesman held out a hand, a polite smile on his face. “Pie, please.”

The man begrudgingly handed it over. “What am I going to tell my daughter? Now I have nothing for her.”

The salesman tsked at the man. He took out a crisp 50,000 won bill from his briefcase and held it out. “Here, get your daughter something nice.” 

The man nearly leapt to collect the money. He held it up to analyze it, his eyes wide with disbelief. 

The salesman let out a huff. “Don’t go spending that at the races, all right, Park Jung-bae-ssi?”

The man froze, his eyes darting to the salesman. “H-how… How do you know my name?” 

The salesman just looked at him with his usual polite smile. “Park Jung-bae. Marine Corps Class 746. Originally worked at Dragon Motors, but after the strike, was laid off. Attempted to start several businesses afterwards, none of which would last longer than a couple years.”

Jung-bae stumbled backwards. “Who… just who are you?!”

The salesman ignored him and continued to speak. “You’ve acquired quite a large sum of debt these past few years. And to top it off, your ex-wife only allows you to see your daughter a couple times a year.” He almost pitied Jung-bae. 

Almost.

The salesman stepped towards Jung-bae and handed him a card. “There are other games where you can make more money than just 50,000 won. If you’d like to participate, give us a call.” He gave a short bow and lifted the plastic bag slightly. 

“Thank you for the pie.” 

The salesman walked away, leaving Jung-bae in stunned silence.

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

The sound of the front door closing woke you up from your post-work nap. Looking out the window, you noticed it was already dark.

You got out of bed and went to the kitchen where the salesman was washing his hands. A bag was next to him on the counter.

“Did you get it?” You asked, peering into the plastic bag. 

“Of course,” he replied. You cheered, pulling him into a hug. To your surprise, he hugged you back.

“Thank you so much, I’ve been craving it all day!” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, then added, “It was the last one, too.” 

You gasped. “No way! You really got lucky.” 

He shrugged.

You moved to get some plates and a knife to cut the pie. “Would you like a piece?” You offered.

He shook his head. “It’s all for you.”

You cut yourself a big slice and went to eat it on the sofa. You turned the TV on to watch the nightly news. Your husband followed you, taking his place beside you. You snuggled into his side and began eating your pie.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” He asked. 

You nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s even better because I’m with you. I’ve been dreaming of this moment all week.”

The salesman smiled, a fuzzy feeling enveloping his heart.

The joy on your face, the way you practically melted as you savoured your dessert… It was all worth it.

And he recruited another player at the same time. Two birds with one bullet. 

Your happiness meant everything to him. He always tried his best to care for you, even if his ways could be a bit unconventional sometimes. 

The salesman cherished you dearly, and he would do anything for you. That’s what people do for those they love, right?

Just then, the latest news in horse racing flashed on TV. They were interviewing a man who had won big at the races. But there, in the background, the salesman could pick out Jung-bae amongst the crowd, his expression distraught. 

Your husband scoffed.

Well, maybe not everyone.

tags: @muchwita

[flwrstqr]

⠀⠀[⠀谷. ) KISS ME ⟡ WHEN YOU REFUSE THEIR KISSES

𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 𖹭 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍

𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝑙’ enhypen & fem!rea 9OO established relationship でも petnames skinship kissing ◜ᯅ◝ fluff reaction ( clicks )

다니 ܃ apologize for not posting in a while TT i was neglecting lots of fic 😞 but i hope fleuries enjoy (also thank you lili bear for won's & hoon's)

HEESEUNG

"baby," heeseung whines, leaning in again, lips already puckered. "just one. a tiny one."

you tilt your head back, dodging effortlessly. "i just finished my makeup, hee."

he huffs, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into him. "so?" his breath is warm against your cheek as he nuzzles in, pressing teasing kisses along your jaw, stopping just short of your lips.

"so, you'll ruin it," you murmur, stubborn but faltering.

heeseung chuckles, low and sweet, before dipping down, stealing a lingering kiss anyway. "worth it," he mumbles against your lips, hands tightening their grip.

you groan, pushing at his chest. "heeseung—"

"shh," he grins, stealing another. "my baby’s too pretty not to kiss."

JAY

jay glances at you from the driver’s seat, his coat draped over your shoulders. at a red light, he turns to you, eyes soft, lips already tilting into a smile. "baby," he murmurs, leaning in, his voice a gentle plea. "one kiss."

you shake your head.

jay blinks, tilting his head. "huh?. but he tries again, leaning closer, his cologne wrapping around you. "just a little one?"

you turn away dramatically. "nope."

he exhales, feigning offense. "princess, what did i do?" his fingers brush your jaw, coaxing you gently. when you still don’t budge, he sighs, defeated but endlessly patient, pressing a kiss to your hand instead.

"i’ll earn it back," he promises, grinning as the light turns green.

JAKE

jake watches mid-conversation, lips already pursed, waiting for you to lean in. but when you don’t—when you just blink at him like you don’t see his expectant look—his face falls.

“baby,” he whines, voice all soft and pleading. his lower lip juts out in the cutest pout, and he leans in closer, brows furrowed. “my kiss?”

“later,” you murmur, biting back a grin.

wrong answer. “later?” his hands find your waist..“no, no, no. now.”

“baby.”

“no, don’t ‘baby’ me,” he huffs, gripping your chin gently to make you face him. “c’mon, pretty baby. just one.”

you cave. and he smiles against your lips, victorious.

SUNGHOON

sunghoon raises a brow, tilting his head when you dodge his lips for the third time. “really?” he says, voice smooth.

“really,” you echo, barely holding back a grin.

he exhales through his nose, feigning nonchalance as he leans back against the couch, arms stretched over the cushions. “huh. okay.” but he keeps stealing glances at you, lips subtly pursing, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

cute.

you pretend not to notice, flipping through your phone until you hear the tiniest sigh—soft, barely there. giving in, you shift closer, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his pout.

his lips twitch. “…you’re so annoying,” he murmurs, but he’s already pulling you into another kiss, softer this time, like he’s making up for lost time.

SUNOO

“okay, is that what you want?” sunoo huffs, arms crossed, lips pursed in the cutest little pout. “you wanna make me suffer?”

you bite back a smile, tilting your head. “suffer? i barely did anything.”

. “barely—” he scoffs. “i’ve been trying to kiss you for the past five minutes, and you keep dodging me..” you can’t help it—you giggle. that only makes him sulk harder, cheeks puffing out as he glares at you.

“fine,” he grumbles, turning away. “no more kisses. ever.” you reach for him, cupping his face and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

sunoo melts instantly, smile breaking through mid-kiss.

“…hmpf. you’re lucky i love you,” he mumbles, stealing another.

JUNGWON

jungwon leans in, eyes half-lidded, lips barely brushing yours—only for you to turn away at the last second.

he stills. “oh.”

his smile falters, just a little, and he blinks at you, processing. “…did i do something?”

his voice is soft, careful, but there’s a flicker of concern in his gaze. he tilts his head, scanning your face, like he’s searching for something he might’ve missed.

“baby,” he tries again, this time with the tiniest pout, “are you mad at me?”

you shake your head, biting back a grin.

jungwon presses his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly. then, in the quietest voice—“then why won’t you kiss me?”

with a quiet laugh, you cup his cheeks and press a lingering kiss to his lips.

he sighs into it, happy again. “don’t do that,” he mumbles.

RIKI

riki leans in, but you barely glance up from your phone. “not now,” you mumble.

he freezes mid-motion. “oh?” when you don’t budge, he leans back, crossing his arms with a dramatic scoff. “fine. you wanna avoid my kisses? bet.”

your eyes flick up. “bet?” his lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “yeah. first one to give in and kiss the other loses.”

you snort. “that’s ridiculous.”

“sounds like something a loser would say.” and just like that, it’s war. riki spends the whole day getting way too close—leaning in like he’s about to kiss you, then pulling away last second with a grin. but you give it right back, making him suffer every time he instinctively chases your lips.

by nighttime, he cracks first.

“okay, whatever,” he grumbles, grabbing your face. “i lose.”

he kisses you way too long to call it a punishment.

[81pastrys]

Grid Flirt

Part 10 / 13

Summary— She ends up second in the championship after her team ignore her on the radio and Lando goes to congratulate her.

Warnings— Horner ; mention of a panic attack ; angst? ; crash out ; yelling match

A/N— yeah this one is a bit intense

Series List

Next race weekend and I’ve done my best to stay civil with Horner, however he makes it really fucking hard. “Stay top 10.”

“Okay, that’s possible.” I respond, putting my gear on.

“Of course it is.” He scoffs at me.

I finish putting on my gear and get in the car. I have a bad feeling about the race but breathe it out. My engineer does a radio check. “Copy, clear.” I say. “How’s my car looking?”

“Fine for now.” He said.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing just finish top 10 Díaz.”

What does that mean?? I brush it off and we get into grid positions. The weather was cloudy but no chances of rain. I get in the 8th and take a deep breath. The race starts and I get up quickly to third. Max in first, Norris second.

“Good place, keep it as you are.” He said.

“Copy, how’s the car?”

“Alright.” He said, annoyed almost.

The next straight I call him out. “If you aren’t going to tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m winning this race.”

“Nothing is wrong with your car Díaz.” He said flatly.

“P1 it is then.” I say. “I’m not playing games anymore.”

He argues with himself as I push and push, they already did the last pit stop when I’m second with Norris close behind. “If you win this race it’s over.”

“What?!” I ask, severely confused.

“You already have the worst strategy.”

I ignore it and push and push. I get to Maxs tail and am able to pass him. I speed off and create a gap. My engineer is yelling in my ear to give Max P1 but I’m ignoring him. I finish the race with Max and Oscar behind me. The stands go WILD.

“Diaz for first again!” Jacques says.

I pull into first place and jump off my car unfazed. My team isn’t even congratulating me. I realize why when Jacques keeps on.

“She’s closest to Max in the championship!” I turn around and my eyes go wide. I take off my helmet and we do the top three interview.

“Good race out there today!”

“Thank you! It seems I’m the only one happy about that.” I laugh.

“Well, celebrate!”

I head to the cooldown room, the tensions are high as fuck. I stay quiet, but slowly fall into a panic attack. I sit in the chair and bend over holding my face in my hands. We go to the podium, the tension still high. My face red from tears.

After the very uneventful podium, and an awkward trip to the hotel I go my room. I hit things and throw shit around. The door connecting to my room opens and Lando goes for a hug and I push him away.

“Go away!” I yell.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” He said calmly.

“Go away! Go away…” I scream and then breakdown, falling in his arms. “I fucking hate this.”

“I know, I know.” He shushed me, running his hand through my champagne ridden hair. “It’ll all be alright.”

After a while of crying in his arms, I’m calm enough to be let go. “Fucking bullshit.” I say through tears.

“I know it sucks, but-“

“No he wants me off the team!” I yell. “He’s putting failed parts in my car, and he’s trying to crash me out the rest of the season!”

“Okay, don’t yell at me. I’m not the one doing all of that.” He remarked.

“I’m sorry, if I yell at him again it’ll be an easy out for me.” I say calmer. “My dad doesn’t understand my frustration, Max is playing the favorite driver card and I’m just throwing my career away.”

“Hey, you’re not throwing anything away, you won today.” He said. “You’re a valuable driver, don’t doubt yourself like this.”

“It’s the easiest thing to do Lando.” I say. “How am I supposed to be happy when my entire team is failing me completely?!”

“Because you’re winning!” He yelled back. Throwing me for a loop. “Who else has ever won in a fucked car?! You’re taking what they give you and you’re winning with it!”

“How worth it is it when my own team doesn’t congratulate me on a fucking win Lando?”

“Very worth it, this is history that you’re making, winning in a back marker of a car!”

“That is not how I want to make history!” I say, tears streaming down my face. “Yes I’m winning, yes I’m moving up in the championship, but what’s next?” I ask. Lando stays quiet. “He’s going to blow up my car soon!”

“I don’t think-“

“He knows how bad my stats are in Baku, he’s going to have me crash out and the cars going to burst into flames! I’m not wishing it upon myself but I’m serious!”

“I understand this frustration, but he legally can’t do that.” Lando said in disbelief I’d come up with that accusation.

“He’s past legality Lando, failing my parts and putting them in the system as successful is felon worthy, he just wants me off the team.” I say. “There’s no hope for me anymore.”

“Don’t say that.” He said.

“Just leave me alone.”

“No, you don’t get to shut me out because you feel like this!” He yelled at me. “This is a real issue that needs to be brought up to the FÍA.”

“What can they do in a week?” I ask.

“Fire him?!” He said. “If Horner is committing felonies, they need to know about it, you have witnesses.”

“The entirety of Red Bull Racing is against me, who are they going to believe?” I ask. “Huh? Because it’s me against an entire Company Lando.”

Ummmm yeah.

[women-in-ssports]

Sidelines and Spotlights

In this high school AU, Azzi, the star soccer player, and Paige, the standout on the basketball team, have always existed in separate worlds—until a teammate’s crush sparks an unexpected deal. If the soccer team shows up to support basketball, the favor must be returned. What starts as a simple agreement quickly turns into something more as Paige and Azzi find themselves drawn together in ways neither expected. But with growing tensions on and off the court, they’ll have to decide if their connection is just part of the game—or something worth fighting for.

Chapter 2 | Friday Night Lights

3k ish wrds

Sliding into the passenger seat of Caroline’s car, Azzi was still buzzing from everything that had just happened. What had started as a casual decision to attend a basketball game—mostly because KK and Gabe had asked—had somehow ended with not one, but two girls blatantly flirting with her. And now, on top of all that, there were going to be even more people at the soccer game tomorrow. She could hardly wrap her head around it.

Her thoughts were cut off as Caroline turned the key, and the radio blasted to life. “Sorry,” Caroline muttered, quickly reaching for the knob to turn down the volume. Azzi barely registered it before she felt Caroline’s gaze on her.

“So,” Caroline started, a teasing lilt in her voice, “how exactly did you walk out of that game with two girlfriends?”

Azzi groaned, leaning her head back against the seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Care.”

Caroline scoffed. “Az, come on. Piper was practically batting her eyelashes at you, and Paige—” she smirked, “—Paige was ready to stake her claim mid-game.”

Azzi shook her head. “They were just being nice,” she insisted. “And Paige—she’s just… well, she has school spirit. Being a good team captain, supporting our team.”

Caroline snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

⸻

Paige had been nervous all day, second-guessing her plan for the game. The basketball team had decided to make posters for the soccer team, and naturally, she had chosen to make one for Azzi. But that wasn’t all—she had also come up with the idea to make a shirt with a giant “35” on it, something she could pull over her hoodie since it would be cold at the game. The only problem? Paige was much better at sports than arts and crafts.

That’s where Kayla came in. Since she was in art class, Paige had enlisted her help. Paige had tried to contribute, but after the third time she used too much glue and cut the “3” so poorly that it looked more like an open rectangle with a small line, Kayla had all but banned her from helping.

Kayla swatted Paige’s hand away again. “Stop it! You’re going to ruin it.”

“It just has to be visible from far away—it’s a soccer game,” Paige argued.

Kayla rolled her eyes. “I know how soccer games work, Paige. Unlike you, I’ve actually been going to them this year.”

She had a point. Kayla had made friends across different sports teams and always made an effort to support them.

Paige groaned.

“Why are you so jittery about this shirt anyway?” Kayla pressed.

“I’m not,” Paige said quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“Sure,” Kayla said, smirking. “Whatever you say.”

Paige huffed but gave in. “Fine. Just finish it and give it to KK after our math class, okay?”

“Got it.”

Paige mumbled a quick “thanks” before leaving the art room.

Finally, with Paige out of her hair, Kayla could focus on salvaging whatever mess she had made of the number 35.

Azzi was barely making it through her classes, her mind completely preoccupied with the game that night. As soon as the bell for seventh period rang, she started heading toward the exit—only to hear Caroline call out her name from down the hall.

“Azzi! Wait up!”

Azzi turned just as Caroline caught up to her. “Wanna grab some food?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Azzi said, grateful for the distraction.

Since they had a game that night, Coach Pinoe had let the team out early during 7th period, giving them the perfect excuse to relax before the big match.

Back at Caroline’s house, Azzi, Trinity, and Mal sat around the dinner table as the smell of home-cooked food filled the air. Caroline’s mom walked over, setting plates in front of them with a warm smile.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ducharme!” the girls chimed in unison.

“Of course, girls,” she replied. “Can’t wait to see y’all win tonight!”

Azzi grinned, the pre-game nerves settling just a little. She was ready.

As the team made their way to the sideline to begin warm-ups, Casey’s eyes instinctively drifted toward the bleachers.

“What is she doing here?” Addy mumbled behind her, voice laced with suspicion.

Casey exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. “I honestly don’t know,” she admitted, throwing Addy an apologetic glance.

“Sure you don’t,” Addy muttered, rolling her eyes before turning away to join another line.

Despite herself, Casey stole another glance toward the stands. And there she was—dressed casually in athletic gear, her hair pulled back in a low, messy blonde bun that somehow still looked effortless.

Something stirred deep in Casey’s chest. Was it regret? Or something else entirely?

She wasn’t sure.

What she did know was that her ex never came to a game when they were together. So why now? Why tonight?

On the other end of the field, Azzi led her line through stretches, laser-focused on the game ahead. She was so locked in that she completely missed how packed the bleachers had become—not just with the usual crowd, or the basketball team but others.

Rose was right. Where the girls’ basketball team went, others were sure to follow.

Caroline nudged Trinity, nodding toward the stands. “Look at Aubrey,” she whispered.

Trinity followed her gaze and immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks. There, bundled up against the freezing air, was Aubrey—waving a “Trin for the Win” poster back and forth like her life depended on it.

Trinity blushed and gave a small wave in return.

“Well, that’s cute,” Azzi teased, leaning toward Caroline as they worked through their static stretches.

“If you think that’s cute,” Caroline smirked, “look what blondie did for you.”

Trying to play it cool, Azzi took a quick glance toward the crowd, searching for the blonde. She didn’t have to look far.

There, front and center, Paige stood proudly in an oversized shirt pulled over her hoodie with a bold #35 printed across the front. But what really got Azzi was the sign she held high above her head, scrawled in big, unmistakable letters:

“Fudd Around and Find Out.”

Azzi couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.

KK sat down beside Paige, nudging her softly. “Do you see her?” she asked, her tone laced with warning.

“Yeah,” Paige murmured, her eyes locked on the field. “She looks great,” she added, almost to herself.

KK nudged her again, more insistently this time. “No—her,” she said, tilting her head toward the opposing team.

Paige followed her gaze, and when her eyes landed on Casey, she froze.

Nika, overhearing the conversation, leaned in. “I didn’t know she went to that school?”

“She moved,” Paige said flatly, still staring.

“I see why,” Nika muttered under her breath.

On the field, warm-ups were wrapping up, and the team had started their first footwork drills. As Addy jogged over to find a partner, she hesitated before turning to Casey.

“Sorry,” Addy said quietly as Casey tossed her the ball. She hit it back, watching Casey’s expression carefully.

“I really don’t know why she’s here,” Casey muttered.

“You swear you haven’t talked to her?” Addy asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Casey said quickly—though if she were being honest, she’d thought about it. More than once.

Addy sighed. “I don’t even know why you’re so upset. I’m dating you, aren’t I?” Casey shot back, a little sharper than intended.

Addy exhaled, clearly tired of the conversation. “Yeah.”

“Then?” Casey challenged, eyes narrowing.

Addy didn’t have an answer. Instead, she just mumbled, “Sorry,” and focused back on the drill, though the tension between them lingered.

“Did you know she moved to this school?” Nika asked.

“Nope,” Paige replied. “But it makes sense.”

Her gaze drifted toward Addy.

The intensity of their conversation didn’t last long as Aubrey jumped up from her seat, yelling, “Come on, let’s go, Panthers!” The entire student section behind them erupted into cheers.

As the pregame clock ticked down, the crowd settled into their seats.

The game had been a battle, just as it always was against Saint Ambrose. But tonight, something felt different to Azzi. She couldn’t quite place it, but one of the opposing players—#23—seemed determined to make her night miserable. No matter where Azzi moved, she was right there, bodying her off the ball, clipping her heels, and committing just enough fouls to frustrate her without drawing too much attention from the ref.

With fifteen minutes left in the first half, Saint Ambrose finally broke through. A missed switch from Rose left their #12 with a breakaway down the left flank. As Azzi scrambled to close the gap, #3 cut inside at the top of the 18 and, with a quick touch, sent a shot skimming just under Caroline’s outstretched arm. The ball hit the back of the net, and the away crowd erupted.

Azzi clenched her fists, biting the inside of her cheek. She hated this feeling—knowing they had been just a second too slow, just a step behind. As she jogged back to the center circle, she caught sight of Paige in the stands. Their eyes met, just for a second, and something in Paige’s expression—frustration? Determination?—sent a jolt through her.

At halftime, Coach Pinoe wasn’t subtle about her disappointment. She urged them to tighten up the midfield, move the ball quicker, and finish their chances. And when they stepped back onto the field for the second half, the shift was immediate. The team was sharper, more aggressive.

Then, after a well-placed punt from Caroline and a perfectly timed flick from Azzi, Trinity broke free of the defensive line. She took one touch past the last defender and slotted the ball just past the keeper’s right hand.

Azzi sprinted toward Trinity, leaping into her arms as pure adrenaline rushed through her. “Thank you for the assist!” she breathed, catching her with ease.

“Anything for you,” Azzi teased, adding a playful wink.

Rose jogged up beside them, smirking. “Careful, Az,” she said, tilting her head toward the stands. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Following Rose’s gaze, Azzi spotted Aubrey in the crowd, practically bouncing with excitement, waving her sign in the air. The three girls burst into laughter as Trinity pointed toward the stands, just in time to see Aubrey send a heart gesture their way.

As the final minutes of regulation ticked away, the game became a war of attrition. Azzi, playing as the 8, was everywhere—breaking up plays, pushing the attack, and controlling the midfield.

And then it happened.

Azzi took her first touch into the box, heart pounding—only for #23 to come barreling in, reckless and late. Before Azzi could react, she felt her feet swept out from under her.

The whistle blew, sharp and immediate. The stadium erupted.

Paige saw everything. She didn’t yell, didn’t move—she just sat there, jaw clenched, staring at the field. Her heart pounded. What the hell was Casey doing?

Azzi lay on the ground, struggling to catch her breath. Before she could fully process what had happened, a sharp shove caught her attention.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” #3 snapped, pushing #23 back before immediately crouching down to help Azzi up.

Casey stood frozen, eyes flicking toward the stands. Paige. She saw her. She saw all of it.

The ref reached into his pocket. Red. Casey didn’t argue. She just turned and walked off the field, jaw tight.

Azzi, still dazed, accepted Caroline’s hand as she reached for her. “That was… weird.”

“What was?” Caroline asked, glancing between Azzi and the scene unfolding in front of them.

Azzi shook her head. “All of it.”

Shaking off the pain, she stepped up to the penalty spot. One deep breath, then a perfectly placed strike to the bottom right corner.

Goal.

The crowd exploded. Azzi sprinted toward her teammates, arms outstretched, her name echoing through the stands.

2-1. Game over.

And in the stands, Paige exhaled, heart still racing.

“That was great, ladies!” Coach Pinoe called out as the team gathered around for their post-game huddle. “Caroline, way to be a brick wall in goal! And Trin, Azzi—clutch goals. You two saved us tonight.”

The girls grinned, exchanging exhausted but triumphant glances as Coach continued. “Now, go celebrate with your families and friends. I’ll see you all at school on Monday. Let’s break!”

“One, two, three—Panthers!” they shouted in unison before jogging toward the benches.

Azzi shifted slightly, instinctively looking toward the stands where her family usually waited. But they were out of town for her brother’s tournament, and with her staying at Caroline’s for the weekend, she followed alongside her instead.

As they crossed the field, Azzi’s mind drifted—not just toward the game but to Paige. She caught a glimpse of her lingering near the stands, but before she could process it, Mrs. Ducharme’s warm voice pulled her back.

“You ladies did great!” Mrs. Ducharme said, wrapping both girls in a hug. She pulled back slightly, her gaze landing on Azzi. “Are you okay? That was a hard hit out there.”

Azzi shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just soccer,” she said lightly. “Took a big hit, but I’m good now.”

Mrs. Ducharme studied her for a moment before stepping back. “Alright, be home by 12:30, okay?”

Azzi and Caroline froze, exchanging a look—an entire conversation passing between them in silence. 12:30? Mrs. Ducharme never let them stay out this late.

Before she could change her mind, Caroline quickly replied, “Thanks, Mom!”

With one last quick hug, the two jogged over to the remaining crowd near the student section. Most of the stands had cleared out, only a few stragglers left—including the basketball team, still hanging around.

As they made their way closer to the crowd, Paige was the first to reach them. Her eyes, laced with concern, flickered toward Azzi. She hesitated, unsure if she should ask the question lingering on her mind— Was Azzi okay? The hit had been brutal, and worst of all, Paige knew it was her fault.

As they reached the crowd, Paige was the first to step forward, her eyes flickering with concern. She hesitated for only a second before reaching out, pulling Caroline into a quick hug before turning to Azzi.

“Hey, you good after that hit?” Paige asked, her voice careful but casual.

Azzi shrugged, offering an easy smile. “Yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just glad we won.”

“Me too,” Trinity chimed in, appearing beside them with Aubrey’s arm draped lazily over her shoulders.

“Speaking of the game,” Aubrey said, turning her attention to Caroline, “you were incredible out there.”

Caroline laughed softly. “Thanks,” she replied.

As the conversation continued, shifting between plays and highlights from the game, KK and Nika made their way over. Without warning, KK pulled Azzi into an excited hug, practically bouncing as she congratulated her.

Just then, KK’s phone buzzed with an incoming message from Gabe. She glanced down at the screen and smirked. “Looks like there’s gonna be a party tonight.”

Paige perked up, looking over at her. “Cool, I’m down.”

Aubrey turned to Trinity. “You all coming?”

Trinity, ever the tease, responded nonchalantly, “We might go after dinner with the team.”

Rose snorted, shaking her head. They all knew Trinity was just playing hard to get.

“Cool,” KK said, nodding. “I’ll text you the address, Azzi.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed toward the parking lot.

As the soccer girls grabbed their bags and started moving toward the locker room, Paige reached out, gently catching Azzi’s hand and stopping her in her tracks.

“If you end up coming to the party—or want to—let me know. I could come get you.” Paige’s voice was steady, but there was something behind her eyes, something lingering.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, looking up through her lashes. She could have just said yes, could have given a simple answer. But where was the fun in that?

“I don’t have your number, Paige,” she said instead, letting the words hang between them. “And I’m staying with Caroline this weekend, so we have her car.”

Paige blinked, momentarily thrown off, but quickly recovered. “Well,” she said, stepping forward just enough to close the space between them, “as for you staying with Caroline, I have a big enough car for both of you. And as for the number…” She pulled out her phone, holding it out toward Azzi. “We can fix that right now. If you want to give me yours.”

Azzi hesitated for just a second, meeting Paige’s eyes—but she didn’t take the phone. Instead, she smirked, stepping back.

“I’ll see you at the party, Paige,” she said, turning on her heel toward the locker room. Then, just as she disappeared from view, she threw a teasing “Maybe” over her shoulder.

Paige let out a slow breath, bringing her phone back to her side. She should have been annoyed, maybe even frustrated. But instead, a smile crept onto her face as she watched Azzi walk away.

As Caroline reversed her packed car out of the parking lot, the conversation inside was a mix of indecision and excitement.

“We should go to the party,” Mal suggested from the backseat.

“I don’t know…” Trinity countered, her voice uncertain.

“Trin, you know you want to go,” Caroline teased, shooting her a knowing look.

Trinity sighed. “I do, but… I don’t know.”

Azzi was just about to add her opinion when something outside the window caught her eye—a familiar blonde bun standing just outside the gate. Paige.

But that wasn’t what made her pause. It was the girl standing next to Paige.

#23.

They didn’t look exactly cozy, but they definitely knew each other. Before Azzi could process it, the girl leaned in, resting her head briefly on Paige’s shoulder. Paige didn’t hesitate—she wrapped her arms around her in a hug before stepping back, her expression unreadable.

Azzi’s gaze flicked to the side, catching Nika and KK lingering nearby, watching the interaction just as she was. Paige said something to the girl before turning to walk off with them, disappearing into the night.

Azzi exhaled, her grip tightening slightly on her seatbelt. Maybe she should have taken Paige’s number after all.

[sugusatosluut]

In every universe?

In every universe..

Synopsis: Angstrom Levy has caused mass destruction to the world by unleashing many invincible variants across your mainstream world. The remaining variants find out you’re alive in this universe and Mark takes matters into his own hands to protect you.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, blood,

Mark breaking up with you was not on your plate of things you were expecting. You’d seen it coming from a mile away. He got with you, then shortly after being with you he had an awakening after Angstrom attacked his family. He spent most if not all his time with Eve Wilkins instead of you, his girlfriend. The one time you complained, he broke up with you. Not only did it hurt, but his choice of words weren’t something you could argue with. Not to mention, his unresolved internal conflict of having to choose you or Eve.

‘I just want to protect you, y/n. It’s better for both of us this way— just at least until I figure everything out.’

Those words were the last you would hear from Mark Grayson, that was until the third day following the attack of the Invincible Variants. They were dispersed across the world, violently killing and playing with their victims until they got bored and destroyed everything in their path. For three days they attacked and for those three days you didn’t hear from Mark. All you knew was that your town was under attack now. You were hiding out with William and his boyfriend, thanking the heavens that there was a clear path to your weirdly untouched apartment. On the way to your apartment a building collapsed, the bricks barely scathing you and William. You were both hurt though. A few cuts on William’s arm and a deep gash on your head. It wasn’t enough to stop you. You weren’t special and you weren’t a super, so you weren’t any help to begin with anyways. That didn’t stop you from trying to make sure the people closest to you and even Mark were okay.

Your mainstream Mark stopped in front of you.

“Y/n are you okay? God your head let me see.” He tried to see your wound.

“William needs help more than I do. Go see him.” You said pointing to William. Without any hesitation Mark went to check on his friend. You took advantage of that time to get away, seeking solitude as at least William and his boyfriend got to safety. Mark most likely would stop by after to get you to safety too… or would he just go fight with eve? You honestly couldn’t answer your own question or reassure yourself with confidence about this.. but this wasn’t about you. The world was in trouble. You made it to your apartment, breathless and your head was pounding still. The gash causing a horrible migraine.

Angstrom Levy was debriefing with the variants.

“I want this world in fear of invincible. I want everything he loves taken away from him. His mother, his brother, Atom Eve, that y/n girl..” he said. Immediately regretting that he slipped up. The fear in his eyes became evident when looking at the variants.

“Y/n’s alive?” Mohawk Mark had a look of utter regret and fear in his eyes.

Sinister Mark rushed in to grab Angstrom by the throat.

“You’re going to tell me where she is. You lie, I’ll know and I’ll kill you.” He said between gritted teeth.

All the Marks were sent into a panic. This was huge. The emotions were so intense. Most of them were dead, the remaining Mark’s now had only one mission. Find you.

“Don’t think she’ll be happy to see any of you.” Angstrom smirked.

Meanwhile in your apartment, you lied down on the couch, arms spread out and head tossed back with a wet cloth over your head. Your vision was just so blurry at this point it was useless to get up. You felt like you’d probably die. You closed your eyes, feeling a presence shortly after. You opened your eyes slightly, lifting the rag. You recognized the bottom of Mark’s suit just barely.

“Mark..?” You asked weakly.

You lifted the rag up higher, noticing it wasn’t your mark, it was sinister mark. Fear struck your heart, your body throwing itself off the couch. This felt like agony, you were already down and this could be your final moments. You struggled to move after falling off the couch.

“Y/n.. you look bad let me see it.” He said crouching on the floor to get closer to you. He reached out and you shut your eyes tightly. The fear paralyzing you. You shouldn’t be feeling this scared of mark but after what you’ve seen, you couldn’t help it. You were expecting to feel the weight of Mark’s strength crushing your throat but instead you felt his rough hands caress your cheeks. He took his gloves off to touch you.

“You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He said. The shock of seeing you was more than enough for him to decide he wanted to stay.

“You hurt all those people- when you hurt people, you hurt me.” You said wincing.

Sinister Mark completely stopped what he was doing. You said it again.. you said it in his world before the Omni man in his world killed you in cold blood. He lifted the rag off your head.

Mohawk Mark and semi-long haired Mark arrived in your apartment as well. They looked timid, completely opposite of what you’ve been seeing. They came up to you, checking on you.

“She needs help. I’m not letting what happened to her happen again. I just can’t.” Semi long haired Mark said as he propped you up on the counter.

“I’m fine—“

“No! You’re not.” They shouted at you in unison.

You flinched.

Sinister mark tended to your head wound with the needle and thread you had in the kitchen.

“What the hell is this? Why are you acting like you guys didn’t just kill millions of people?” You asked.

“You died in my world—all of our world’s y/n. This is the only world you’re alive in. I came to bring you back home. It’s clear the Mark of your world is a complete idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? You’re supposed to be with him, he’s supposed to be protecting you!” Mowhawk mark explained.

“Mark and I aren’t together anymore, he’s with eve, wait a minute— I’m dead?” You asked.

“Mhm” sinister mark said.

“In every universe?” You asked.

“In every universe.” Semi long haired mark said.

“He’s with eve? God I hate her, I’ve always hated her.” Mowhawk mark said.

“This is why you need to come home with me.” Mowhawk Mark sighed with a hand on his head.

“With you? She’d thrive better with me. She’s coming with me.” Semi long haired mark argued.

“No. She’s not leaving with either of you, she’s coming with me-“ sinister mark butted in

“Why? So dad can find her and kill her again in your world?” Mowhawk mark shouted.

The Mark’s strted to argue, leaving your wound dressed and treated, they started to argue more, the arguing turned to shoving and shoving turned into knocking out half of your building, you tumbled, falling out of the building and hanging on. You slipped, one of the Mark’s picking you up and saving you. It was Mowhawk Mark. Everything was fine until sinister Mark knocked you both out of the sky. They fought eachother as you plummeted, closing your eyes tightly hoping the impact would just kill you. A pair of arms grasped you tightly.

It was your Mark.

“You’re okay- you’re okay. Let me take care of this.” He said as he placed you down on the ground. It was fairly quick, he left you to kill both of them but they disappeared in a flash, Mark coming back to you quickly. He picked you up and held you tightly. In the heat of the scuffle between the mark variants, your wound reopened, blood was dripping down your head and your clothes were dirty and torn. Mark set you down in his bedroom, the two of you sitting in silence. Mark was standing, pacing trying to get you some clothes and a towel to run a shower for you. You showered and washed the blood off of you, mark tended to you carefully.

“Let me take care of you.” He said lowly.

Mark cleaned out your wound and fixed it up neatly. You were zoned out the whole time, letting him do whatever he needed to help you. He couldn’t do this anymore, the feeling was overwhelming. He needed to do this now especially after what just happened.

“I’m sorry y/n. It’s you and it always has been. I’m and idiot and I shouldn’t have tied myself up in how everyone else is expecting the future to go for me. I know what I want in my future and that’s a life with you. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you, I should have chosen you. You have every right to be upset with me, but I want you to be in my life, I want you to be my wife and have my kids, I want that in our future. I could have lost you and that scares me. I cant live without you, you’re my soulmate a-a-and that’s okay if you don’t feel the same but that’s how I feel about you.” He whined.

You looked him in his eyes, those sweet deep puppy dog eyes of his. A part of you always knew that you and Mark would be in eachother’s lives in some way, but this was him saying he wanted it in the way that meant he’d protect you, that he’d be with you permanently.

Your slow blink worried Mark, his soft hands touching your cheeks. You closed your eyes, his hands were so soft compared to the other Mark’s. You melted into his touch with your eyes closing. He kissed your nose, then your lips softly. You were kissing eachother passionately, the warmth of his lips making you blush. Your body relaxed, opening for Mark to lay you down passionately. His touch burned with intensity. His kisses made your skin tingle as you had sudden flashes of the Mark’s that destroyed your apartment. This was your Mark, so why do you feel so intense?

You placed a palm on his waistband, sliding your hand down his pants. You held his hardness in your hands as he kissed you, repositioning your bodies so that you were on top of his own. You slid your shirt off, your boobs bouncing as Mark’s oversized shirt came off of your damp body. You were stark naked sitting on top of him. He looked at you in all your glory as you helped him remove his suit. He was holding your body closed, your chests smooshed together as you made out. Your wetness pooled, allowing him to slip it in with ease and comfort for the both of you. He groaned, giving you love bites and hickeys as you relaxed and allowed him to slam into you. You slipped your arms over his own and pushed him down into the sheets. His arms going above his own head. You were riding him intensely, but he was already so close. He grabbed your hips, locking them in his biceps as he slammed into you. You were both close now, Mark’s pants and huffs taking over the once noiseless room. He slowly ground his hips into you, the pulsing signifying that he was just so close. Your stomach tightened and your grip on his shoulders tight. You both came in complete silence as you dropped onto the bed next to him.

“I don’t want to be cliché but I love you. I always have and I always will. In every universe.” He said as he cuddled you, moving your hair out of your face and kissing your temple.

“I love you too Mark.. in every universe.”

[n0cturnalflesh]

Dr.Zayne's Guide to Treating a Hunter

Synopsis: Greyson asks for advice on how to deal with his hunter crush. Zayne gives him a very thorough lesson, with you as the test subject obviously.

Tags: Smut, established relationship, threesome, F/M/M, dom!Zayne, sub!Greyson, p in v, oral, warming, worshipping, roleplay, grinding, Greyson goes into subspace? idk it just came to me as i was writing WC: 6.1k

a/n: That took wayyy longer than it shouldve, I say for the third time as i publish my third fic. Thanks to yall who helped with deciding Greyson's crush! Disclaimer, I am nowhere near being in the medical field!!

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The hardwood door is cold beneath your knuckles, a subtle indicator of whom this office belongs to. Holding your breath, you wait for a reply.

“Yes? Come in.” Zayne’s voice draws from within. He’s not expecting you; a week-long mission ending a few days early thanks to your efforts, and not even a single bruise to show for it. With the extra time off given by Captain Jenna as a reward, what better to do with your time than to surprise your favourite doctor? 

Creaking the door open slowly, you push it closed with your heel and spin in a circle, holding the small box of macarons out front as an offering. 

“Doctor Zayne!” you hum in a sing-song voice, “Your favourite hunter is back! Did you miss me?”

His eyes widen at your voice, hand slowing from the rigorous notes being scribbled as he looks up from his desk. “You’re back early. Are you alright? Why wasn’t I notified about your mission ending early?”. Caution laces his tone, unable to get excited at your sudden return until he knows you’re safe.

“Of course!” You chirp, pointing a finger gun out the window as you pretend to aim at a tree outside,  “When am I ever not alright? I’m a professional.” He gives you an unamused look. “Anyway, I convinced Jenna to delay my mission report status so I could surprise you. Got dropped off right outside the hospital.”

“Hmm.” Zayne hums, standing from his desk as he takes a step towards you, “Professional misconduct with not just the Hunters Association but also Akso Hospital?”

“Yup! Only cost a week’s worth of lunches for the team on me.”

Zayne stops in front of you, pulling you into a warm hug. “And a box of macarons, apparently.” He gladly takes the offering you present, eying down the flavours you chose.

“Whatever.” You huff. “My reports should be in your inbox any second now, I just got them delayed long enough to surprise you. Mission ended early due to uncovered intel. Didn’t even get a scrape!”

Zayne raises an eyebrow at your words, pausing halfway into biting a macaron. “Shocking. Are you sure about that? How do I know you haven’t been replaced by a wanderer? I’ve witnessed you get injured stepping out of a car.”

“Uncalled for!” you pout before a mischievous idea pops into your head. “But, if you’d like to do a full body inspection, I have no objections, doc-tor.”

Popping your hips, you lock your hands behind your back and tilt your head to look up at the surgeon, challenging him. His eyes linger on your body as he takes you in before settling on your face. 

“I guess a thorough inspection is in order for such a… wreckless patient.” He leans forward and pushes you back slowly. “If you’ll have a seat, we can begin.”

Unable to hold back your smirk, his hands guide you around his desk until you're sitting on the ledge in front of his chair. Taking a knee in each hand, the cold of his fingertips lingers as he drags them along your thighs before spreading them to stand between.

Fingers gripping the hem of your hunters’ skirt, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “This new uniform seems… breathable. I didn’t realize skirts were efficient for fighting in.” He presses a kiss to your neck, breath hot against your ear.

“It’s for undercover missions.” He takes a small bite at your earlobe, “Not,” you gasp, “not the standard uniform.” With shuddering breaths, Zayne’s cool hands slide up your waist, tracing each curve and arch of your body until they rest, gently cupping your face. Pulling back, he leans his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you, my love. I’m glad you’re safe.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I missed you too.”

He slowly begins to devour you, lips pulling at your own as he tries to consume every inch of you like a starved man. Grabbing at his tie, you pull it from within his grey vest and yank him closer to you. The firmness of his body begins to melt against your own, hips moulding in ebb and flow as he grinds against you in waves.

“Zayne.” He kisses you. “Should I,” Again. “Should I lock the door?”

Pushing his lips heavy against yours one last time, he pulls away with a rugged breath. “No, I’m expecting Dr. Greyson shortly. Any minute. We won’t have time.” His words come with a wince, as if it pains him to decline the offer.

 You gaze up into his eyes, a shared longing for desperation pleading silently for each other. Zayne takes a step back, eyes closing with focus as he visibly wills himself to calm down. As he sits down in his chair, you can’t help but notice the fat tent in his pants. 

Sighing under your breath, you hop off Zayne’s desk. “Well, I need to sign off on a few final mission reports. It shouldn't take long. Would I be able to finish them here with you, and then we can grab food once you’ve finished your work? Unless your matters with Greyson are confidential, then I can just…”

“No, you’re welcome to work with me, please. He was requesting some advice, although on what, I’m not sure. At most, likely something related to his current medical research.”

“Yay!” You bounce, grabbing your laptop from your standard hunter bag and propping it next to his on the desk. “Watcha working on?”

“I’m preparing presentation material for a speech I’m giving later next month to our new resident doctors. I’ve already caught up on my post-operative documentation and patient progress monitoring for the day.”  

“Mmm, I love it when you talk all medical. So sexy.” You wink. A small smile flashes across his face, ears flushing a light red. “Glad it’s nothing too pressing then. Mind if you scooch a bit so I can sit down?”

Zayne gives you a slightly puzzled look, his eyes flickering to the empty chair beside you, one that he definitely does not need to move over for you to access, but still abides by your wishes. With a comforting confidence, you lean over and sit on his lap, skirt bunching up your thighs as you do. A small gasp comes from behind you, but Zayne remains quiet other than that.

“Darling,” he whispers, “Dr. Greyson?”

“Hmm? It’ll be fine. I’m just trying to get some work done. That extra chair of yours hurts my back, this is much more comfortable.” You reply, eyes not moving from your laptop. “Besides, this is hardly compromising. Greyson knows how much we miss each other after long missions.”

Zayne wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. The silence tells you he disagrees, but his tight grip around you says he doesn’t care enough to fight back. And so you begin your work.

Ten minutes in, your report is almost halfway done. Zayne has not touched his work. His arms loosen and tighten every few minutes around your waist as he watches your type. 

“My love,” he breathes, “can you please stop bouncing your foot.”

The movement is brought to your attention, and you slow it to a stop, unaware that you were even doing so in the first place. “Oops, sorry.” You smile, “Didn’t mean to distract, doc.” 

He stiffens at the nickname, fingers digging into your sides as he steadies you against him. It’s then that you feel the newly hardened bulge beneath you. 

“I’m sure you did, actually .” He pulls your back flush against his chest. “You know your effect on me. I can’t keep my composure with you like this.” As Zayne grinds you down onto his lap, your back arches into him. “Thinking I have the strength to withhold from your teasing.” He places a kiss on your neck. “You break down all of me.”

Hands groping at your body, you rock with him as he bucks lightly against you. “ Zayne .” you moan.

He groans into your neck, wanton and dripping with lust, “I need you. Sit on it, please darling.”

Blinded by desperation, you nod and push his hands up your skirt. His finger prods at your sopping panties, pushing them to the side to smear your slick around. 

“You’re already so wet. I barely need to stretch you out.” He gasps, fingers pushing into your clenching cunt as he scissors you open wide. “Pardon my rushing, a true medical professional should know not to rush these things.”

“ Mmph , well,” you pant, “my boyfriend should know how well he fits in me and put it in before it's too late.”

He withdraws his fingers in an instant, nodding to himself as he undoes the zipper of his pants. The warm weight of his cock springs out and hits your lower back. Pausing your movements, he lifts you with ease to hover you above him before slowly sliding you down onto his full length. The pressure is immediately dizzying, feeling his tip push deeper in as your body stretches to take him. 

“Zayne!” you cry out.

“I know, darling.” He whispers from behind, placing gentle kisses on the nape of your neck until you're fully sitting on him, ass flush against his pelvis. “Even if we don’t have time to finish, to be in you is a gift in itself.”

Zayne rubs at your hips, shifting his hands until they rest on your lower belly, holding you where you hold him within you. “You drive me to madness in the best way possible, I can’t control myself around you. I need you, always and forever.”

“And you have me.”

Like your words are his kryptonite, he leans his forehead against your shoulder, panting at the feeling of your warm, gummy insides squeezing him. 

The sudden turn of the doorknob disturbs the moment, a new voice entering the room.

“Hey, Dr.Zayne, thanks for agreeing to help! It’s nothing serious, more of a… personal matter you could say.” 

Greyson enters the office, head turned towards the door as he closes it behind him. He hasn’t seen you yet, nor does he notice the brief scramble at the desk as Zayne hurriedly pulls and smooths out the bottom of your skirt. Still nestled within you, it looks nothing more than you sitting on his lap to do work.

“Oh! Miss Hunter!” Greyson’s ears flush. “I didn’t realize you were back from your mission. I’m glad to see you made it back safe and early. And to see you lovebirds are happy together.”

“Yep,” you muster up, voice shaky from nervousness. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I was just working on some reports. I can… leave if you need.”

Zayne squeezes your thighs beneath the desk tightly, a precautionary questioning at how you would even remove yourself from the situation.

“Oh! Actually, this might be a matter you can help me with too.” Greyson replies, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “If you can promise to keep a secret.”

You nod along shakily, too distracted by the weight of Zayne’s cock nestled deep within you. Were you not being split open, your brain would absolutely clock into whatever secrets Greyson is about to spill. 

“Of course!” Your voice comes out nervously high-pitched. Zayne’s hands begin to rub gently against your thighs at the hem of your skirt, hidden from sight beneath his desk. From within you, his cock twitches against your walls. He’s enjoying this.

“Yes,” Zayne answers from behind you, “if this is regarding what I think it is, she would absolutely be able to provide some insight on the matter.” His tone is calm, practiced, but just a little bit deeper than normal, hiding the carnal desire beneath it. He looks over your shoulder to Greyson, a smile on his lips as he nods in encouragement.

Greyson’s blush spreads from his ears to his cheeks as he begins to stutter over his words, clearly nervous to voice his thoughts. “Well, hunters are such a highly regarded profession.”

As he talks on, Zayne raises his hand higher, slowly up your thigh with such a stillness that could only be done by a surgeon's hands.

“And obviously hunters should be treated with the utmost respect.”

“ Mmhmm .” You nod, head spinning as Zayne slowly gets closer to your heat.

“Dr.Zayne would clearly know from experience.”

Maintaining eye contact with the cardiac surgeon’s assistant begins to be a struggle as Zayne uses the slick from where you two meet to rub at your clit gently.

“So I wanna make sure I do it right.”

You’re entirely gone, staring right through poor Dr.Greyson as he talks. Zayne’s fingers slide from your clit, circling around the base of his cock that kiss your lower lips.

“I just don’t know how to confess. I want to make sure I can show I’d be a good boyfriend for a hunter, that I could treat her right.”

“Wait, what?” You pause, suddenly tuned in to his mild confession. “You have a crush on a hunter?” Leaning forward to lean on Zayne’s desk, inadvertently sliding his cock a few inches out as you do. His hands retract at your movement, resting on the armrests of his chair.

Greyson looks away and out the window in embarrassment at the idea being laid out so bluntly. “Yes.” 

“Oh my-” You gasp, bouncing slightly in excitement before cutting yourself off at the feeling of Zayne’s dick pushing up into you as you move. Behind you, he lets out a desperate gasp, knuckles turning white as he grips tightly at his armrests.

Greyson, oblivious to the incident, continues to stare out the window, deep in thought. “I’m not gonna name names, yet , at least.”

Before you can reply, Zayne wraps his arms around your waist and yanks you back down fully onto his length. The cry of pleasure escapes your lips before you can stop it, face reddening in embarrassment and lust as he fills you entirely again. 

“Miss?” Greyson turns suddenly at your outcry. “Are you alright?” He takes a few steps towards the desk, Zayne tightening and tensing his hold on you as he does. The pleasure is blinding, intensified by the absolute control Zayne exerts over the situation- you’re a goner.

 The room is silent as Greyson leans toward you, examining your features. His eyes rake over your body, slowing as he reaches your once again bunched-up skirt in Zayne’s hands by his pelvis. By the way that his blush deepens, he’s figured out exactly what’s going on.

If the room was silent before, it must be lost in the deepspace tunnel now with how quiet and still it is. Zayne’s laboured breath is hot and heavy against the back of your neck, while Greyson’s chest rises rapidly in front of you. With a beet-red blush, his eyes dart between you and Zayne. Disbelief flashes across his face through his furrowed eyebrows, embarrassment visible in his quivering lip. 

But there’s something else, too. Something in his eyes, the way he maintains strong eye contact between both you and Zayne, in the way he doesn’t back away but, if anything, leans a bit closer with curiosity. 

And in the way his pants begin to tighten around his front. 

The situation has you clenching tighter around Zayne, pushing back slightly into his hips. The way he holds you, claims you , in front of his colleague like you’re his prized possession has you wanting more of this side to him. He must feel the way you clamp down on him as he returns in kind by pushing up against your hips just enough for his tip to kiss your cervix. A silent validation through this rocky situation.

“Dr. Greyson,” Zayne huffs, voice rich with dominance and authority, “why don’t you lock the door? As my assistant, we can give you a thorough explanation on how to properly treat a hunter.”

Greyson looks behind you, maintaining eye contact with Zayne for a few seconds before scrambling to lock the door. He returns to the desk, standing about 5 feet in front of you. With tense shoulders, he looks to Zayne for further instructions, his undone lab coat doing nothing to hide his clothed erection. 

“You can start with a prescreening review. What do you think a hunter should want in a partner? I will leave the expert to judge your answers.” As Zayne directs his assistant, he kisses the back of your neck and allows his hands to gently caress your hips. Riling you up but not going where you need them most.

“ Ahem , well,” The normally witty surgeon begins, “A hunter should want someone that can respect their independence.”

Zayne nods, hands sliding up your shirt. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. 

“Someone that can treat them well and take care of them after a long day.”

He slides his hands over your clothed breasts, not quite squeezing them but still gently fondling them. “Pay attention, darling,” he whispers in your ear, “you are the subject matter expert.”

As a whirl of pleasure and electricity surges through your nerves, you force your mind to focus back on the young man in front of you. Through foggy eyes, you rake your vision up to make eye contact with him. 

“Someone that, fuck , someone that can be patient and understand the risks of their job.” He whispers, shifting from foot to foot as his hands fidget in his pockets.

A gentle nudge from behind reminds you that he’s awaiting your response. “ Yes ,” you gasp through deep breaths, “mmhmm. And. Need someone to,” you sigh as Zayne gropes you lightly, “someone to keep them grounded, make them feel like a person, reassure them, please them .”

The subtle touches mixed with Greyson’s eye contact are becoming too much as you begin to grind your hips back on Zayne. Squeezing your legs down around his, if you lean just a bit, you can catch your clit on the hilt of his jeans. It’s not nearly enough, the room is spinning, head foggy with pleasure. Has Greyson always looked so submissive?

“Very good. I think you have an appropriate understanding of the matter.” Zayne groans, his hands stopping their previous ministrations. He holds you still on his lap, slowing your grinding. “Lesson two: bedside training. In line with Akso Hospital’s Office of Faculty Development, what are the three stages of effective bedside teaching?” 

Astra have mercy on your cunt because as Zayne speaks to Greyson, he begins to show the side of him you don’t often get to witness. His voice deepens and hardens- amongst other parts of him. Looking up over your shoulder, you can see the assertive stare he gives his assistant. Despite his professionalism, he still manages to slowly unbutton your shirt, spreading it slowly to reveal your bra.

Greyson coughs to himself, hand grasping at his belt before smoothing over his erection, pushing it down through his pants as he chases some relief. “Preparation, teaching, evaluation!” He all but spits out like the words will grant him some kind of prize.

“Good. Now I want you to get on your knees, Dr. Greyson.”

Greyson does exactly as he’s told, clambering onto the ground as he knees before the desk. Zayne slowly wheels his chair back until it hits the back wall. From this position, your entire body is on display for Greyson to watch, from the way your thighs rest on Zayne’s to the dampened stain on his pants where your bodies meet. 

“Come closer.” Zayne beckons. Greyson crawls on all fours towards you, under the desk until he’s sitting pathetically on his knees before you. He looks up at you with hazy eyes filled with curiosity and lust.

Before you can feel any form of shame, Zayne presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “We will begin by reviewing patient information. Greyson?”

“Uh,” He stammers, eyes lifting from you to Zayne. “Female patient, returning from deepspace hunter mission with a history of Protocore Syndrome. Presenting for a post-mission evaluation and follow-up care.”

“Diagnosis?”

Greyson shifts on his knees, confused and distracted by the sight in front of him.

“Sexual arousal.” Zayne answers for him, raking his hand beneath your skirt to gather your wetness between his fingers. “Explain what this diagnosis entails.”

With heavy eyes, Greyson speaks without taking his eyes off Zayne’s hands at your core. “Female tumescence, increased heart rate, flushing of the skin and elevated blood pressure. Heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones and increased desire are expected.” 

“Treatment plan?” 

“Orgasm.” 

As Greyson gives his answer, Zayne begins to curl your skirt up higher. The coolness of the office air hits your upper thighs, cooling down your heated body. “Do I have consent from the patient to involve medical teaching in your examination today?”

Without skipping a beat, you nod your head. “Yes! Please!” You whimper, desperate to end the teasing.

“Excellent.” Zayne pushes his fingers against your clit, reigniting the coil of pleasure within you. With a jerk, your hips begin to move on their own as he massages the bundle of nerves. Arching your back to rest your head against his shoulder, he uses his free hand to spread your legs and hook your ankles around his calves, displaying you for Greyson to see. 

“A hunter’s mission is always a serious matter. Whether it is a direct assault or recon mission, it’s important that you pay the utmost attention to their bodily needs. Especially after a long mission away from home.” Zayne turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek, voice softening from his stern, medical tone. “Where do you need me, my love?”

“Everywhere, fuck , touch me please, faster .” Your whole body twitches with desire, hips bucking forward as you hump his cock. From the ground, Greyson can see how Zayne plays with your clit, how he runs his fingers down to where his length enters you and back to your clit. Zayne’s free hand leaves your thighs and moves to unclip your bra with ease, helping to slide it off your body. 

Bouncing against him lightly, Zayne begins to match your hips with gentle thrusts, not enough to pound you but enough to shake your whole body. He presses his lips against your neck, biting down as he gathers your breasts in his hand and squeezes.

Lost to pleasure, a quiet whimper pulls you back to Zayne’s office. Greyson kneels beneath you, having crawled closer, looking like a mess. His hair is askew, strands sticking out from their normal styled positioning as a result of him desperately running his fingers through it. His shirt lays untucked from his pants, a few buttons undone, while his glasses are smudged with fog and sweat. And yet, his pants remain done up, ever the obedient assistant to Zayne.

The whimpering continues and it's not until you really focus that you realize he’s begging, over and over. “Please, please , Dr. Zayne, please may I have your permission to touch something, anything .” Greyson’s cheeks are impossibly flushed, his whole body entranced by you and Zayne, like he’s floating through a hypnotic trance, ready to do whatever Zayne asks of him. 

“ Mmmm ,” Zayne growls, releasing your body to once again wrap his arms around your waist. As he begins to focus on thrusting into you, he groans out. “I think we can,” he gasps, “begin with procedural training.”

 Zayne taps lightly on your inner thigh, enticing the other doctor to come closer. With his face between your legs, Greyson’s heavy breaths tickle your soaked panties. He looks up obediently, chest heaving up and down desperately as he awaits the next order. 

“I want you to walk me through the treatment. Outline the key steps of this diagnosis and procedure, Dr. Greyson.”

With laboured breaths, Greyson’s entire body heaves as he makes eye contact with your filled cunt. “R-resolve female tumescence and sexual arousal through, fuck , physical stimulation of the clitoris and nipples, mmmph , and internal stimulation with penile penetration.” He bucks his hips into the air, nearly losing his balance as he tries to catch himself from touching you.

“Keep going.” Zayne holds you spread for Greyson to see.

“ Mmmmm , the p-parasympathetic nervous system via the pelvic nerve, plays a key role in initiating arousal, w-while the autonomic nervous system coordinates the physiological responses involved.” He pants, brain short-circuiting between the medical knowledge engraved into his mind versus the image of you spread and filled that he’s trying to burn into his memory. 

“W-with the clitoral corpus cavernosum filling with blood due to vasodilation, leading to tumescence. Increased blood flow causes the labia minora to swell and enhances vaginal lubrication.”

“And can you point out where on the patient you can find this lubrication?”

“F-fuck. On your fingers, on her thighs, on your cock.” He manages to choke out.

“Tsk. I don’t recall ‘cock’ being a medical term.”

“On your penis .”

“Good. It’s important to maintain professionalism with your patients. Now, how do I treat her?”

“Stimulation to the pudendal, pelvic, and hypogastric nerve. Rhythmic penetration, manual stimulation of the clitoral glands, alongside sexual verbal stimulation seems to be the b-best course of action for this patient.” 

“I think we’re ready to begin hands-on training, Dr. Greyson.” 

Zayne taps your clit lightly with his finger, before sliding his hands up to caress your breasts. Greyson looks up at the both of you wantonly, crawling closer until he’s a blink away from your cunt. 

There’s a moment of pause, not necessarily hesitation but rather expectancy. Zayne’s face hovers behind your head as he stares down to watch his assistant wait. The stillness is torture as his cock resides within you, clit pulsing with every beat of your heart. He keeps your ankles hooked around his calves, holding you open for Greyson. The soft squelching of your slick echoes out as you shift impatiently in Zayne’s lap.

“Don’t keep the patient waiting, doctor.” Zayne speaks, reaching his hand out and grabbing Greyson by the hair, shoving his face into your pussy. The immediate pleasure is like the light at the end of a never-ending tunnel; your whole body igniting with heat as Greyson laps your clit. 

It’s sloppy, loud even, as his nose pushes against you, sinking into your drenched panties that’ve been impatiently shoved to the side. Zayne’s hand returns to holding your waist as he begins to grind you onto his lap. With every thrust back, his cock teases your silken heat, with every hump forward, Greyson laps on your clit with a heavy tongue. 

The assistant doctor picks up on the rhythm, his whole body rocking back and forth to chase your clit as you bounce lightly on Zayne’s lap. “ Mmmm .” He moans, voice sending ripples of pleasure to your sharp point, “ More, more, more .” He chants like a desperate man. A low laugh-turned moan escapes from behind you. Tilting your head, you see Zayne’s flushed cheeks beside you. 

His half-lidded eyes turn to look at you, chest heaving behind your back with laboured breaths. “ My love ,” he pants. Digging his fingers into your bouncing breasts, he kisses behind your ear and begins to start thrusting up into you. 

“Fuck” you hear from between your legs, looking down just in time to see Greyson pull back. His face is dripping with sweat and your wetness, hair ruffled and messy from his ministrations. With wet hands, he pulls his glasses off and tosses them on the ground beside you. He pauses for a moment, leaning back on his hands as he watches Zayne fuck into you.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, his wrinkled, half-buttoned shirt tightening as he pants. His leaned-back position only accentuates his neglected boner. Zayne grabs your chin, arm crossing in front of your bare chest as he presses your cheek to his and forces your gaze down onto his assistant. 

“I think our doctor-in-training could use some help from the expert again. Care to show him how a hunter can also care for their partner, darling?”

“ Mmhm .” You whimper out. Between bouncing thrusts, you unhook your leg from Zayne’s and place it on the inner side of his thigh. On an inviting angle, you beckon Greyson forward again. He crawls towards you on all fours until he straddles your leg, chin resting on your knee. Greyson looks up at you with clouded eyes, pouting and yearning for any kind of touch. With a nudge from a particularly harsh thrust behind you, you step down on his boner.

“ Ahh , fuck!” he crumbles forward, panting cheek resting against your thigh. “Mmm, sorry-” Before you can finish your apology, Greyson leans heavier into you, thrusting his bulge against your leg. As he humps you, his hands cradle your hips with reverence. He inches his face forward until it’s once again smushed against your crotch. With every thrust, he humps his erection onto you, chasing release as he licks at your clit. Zayne’s heavy balls squish against Greyson’s face, but neither seems to care.

Reaching out, you burrow your hands into them, grabbing each by the hair and pulling them closer. “ Oh my god! Z- ” You throw your head back, the combination of Zayne’s cock hitting your g-spot and Greyson’s tongue at your clit drawing you closer to the release you’ve been seeking since you first sat on Zayne’s lap. 

“Yes, my love!” Zayne grunts out, “Say my name!”

“Zayne!” 

“ Fuck , good girl.” He gasps, hips stuttering and losing their pace for a moment. Kissing the side of your neck, his fingers lower from your chest to your hips, brushing over Greyson’s hands for a moment.

“This,” Zayne thrusts, “is the proper way to treat a hunter. On your knees for them, having been allowed the privilege to treat them. Understand, doctor ?”

Pulling back slightly from your pussy, Greyson keels forward hard, humping your leg like a dog in heat. Pathetic whimpers of agreement and nods of his head escape him as he uses both hands to pull your leg closer against him. A wetness down your calf exposes his drooling mouth. He closes his eyes in bliss, letting out a loud whimper as he leans his entire torso against your leg one last time, holding it firm as his body twitches with pleasure.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Zayne coerces you, “you’re my hunter.” With that, Zayne fucks into you faster and harder than before. His hands rope down your body and begin rubbing at your clit as he pulls you to kiss him. 

“Mmhm, ‘m your hunter.” You moan back between sloppy kisses. His tongue licks at your lips, teasing with little bites. True to his title as a surgeon, his delicate fingers expertly tease and please your pussy, sparking tingles within you as you begin to clench tighten around him. 

“ Mmph , cum for me!” He chants in your ear, rocking into you with desperation. It finally becomes too much, surges of white shooting throughout your body as you tighten and twist and clamp down on him. A sharp coolness chases your skin as he holds you tight against him, whispers of his evol losing control. It’s the only sensation that reaches you beyond the explosion of pleasure that courses through you. Like an electrical charge, it travels through you and unwinds within him.

“ Ah , you take me so good. Perfect,” He pants, hips picking up the pace. The pressure of your orgasm mixed with his insistent thrusting is too much, making you spaz lightly in his arms, whimpering pleas for a break.

 “Was made for you. ‘m sorry, almost there. You can hold on, right good girl?” He begs, resting his forehead against your shoulder, damp hair smudging across your skin. He drills into you a few more times feverishly, and finally with a deep groan, he bursts within you- floods of his cum filling your twitching walls.

Through clouded thoughts and fuzzy vision, it feels like you’re floating above your body. The release of tension has tingles spreading throughout your limbs. You sit, sweaty and chilled on his lap, stuffed to the brim and unable to tell whether it's been minutes or hours. 

Finally, as your mind and body reconnect with themselves, sharp tinges of coolness pierce your skin. Through squinting eyes, you look down to see Zayne’s hands frosted to your hips. Weakly, you extend your fingers and interlock them over his. Evol power pushes through you weakly as you resonate with him, removing the light sheet of ice from his shivering and steaming body. 

As the ringing of pleasure in your ears dies down, it's replaced by a slow panting. Very slowly, your senses come back to you: the blinding LEDs shining from above, the smell of sweat and cologne surrounding you, the moist mop of hair resting against your shoulder, and the limp weight resting on your thigh. 

Greyson! Having nearly forgotten about Zayne’s assistant, you slowly shift your eyes down to peek at him. Warm flushes of embarrassment heat up your body as he still rests against your nearly naked body, but his eyes are still closed as he rests. 

Zayne must notice your gaze on the other man as you peer down. Subtly, he shifts his leg, nudging Greyson back into a kneeling position at your feet. From this angle, it’s not hard to miss the wet patch on his pants right over where his boner was. Head bowed down, eyes still closed, and with a vibrant rosy blush covering from his ears to his neck, he looks utterly pitiful and submissive.

“Zayne!” You whisper-yell, “You didn’t have to push him.”

“Training's over.” He pants back, “Students are no longer involved in this case; care will continue under Dr. Zayne only.”

Before you can reply, he’s pulling you in for a hug, pressing himself tightly against you’re back. “You are mine, as I am yours. One and only.”

Reaching back to rub his hair, you smile. “Always and forever. I love you.”

“And I, you.”

Getting dressed is easier than expected. Greyson remains partially aware of his surroundings but still not entirely present, allowing you to fix your attire quickly while Zayne picks him up to rest on the couch in his office. By the time he wakes up, you and Zayne are enjoying takeout at the desk. 

“Welcome back, Dr.Greyson.” Zayne addresses him without looking up from his food as his assistant rises to a seated position. The poor man is redder than an apple as he notices the wipes and damp towel left for him to clean up, along with a larger lab coat to better cover himself.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

“You do not have to make this any more uncomfortable than it has to be. You asked for advice, and I believe we provided it, no?” Zayne asks, pausing from taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Right!” Greyson stammers out, voice cracking slightly as his face flushes even deeper.

“You are making it more uncomfortable.”

Laughing inwardly to yourself, you speak up to ease the tension. “Hey, it’s ok. We had a good time, did you?” He nods. “Good. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.” With a wink, you use a finger to draw a line across your lips, twisting and locking away the key. “I’m sure you’ll impress whatever hunter you have the hots for, especially now that you know what it's like to…properly handle one.”

Your casual approach to the situation seems to have calmed him down, as he nods in agreement, seeming to have a better grasp of the situation. 

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne. And Miss Hunter! For the opportunity. I won’t forget it.” Despite the slight shakiness in his voice, his tone is much more relaxed. With that, he picks up the supplies left for him and begins to head towards the door. 

“Wait!” You call out as his hand reaches for the knob, “You never told me who you’re crush was!”

“Nope!” 

“I could help set you up!”

His ears flush impossibly red once more as he continues to reach for the door. With haste steps, he nearly rushes directly into Yvonne.

“Dr.Greyson, what’s got you so flush?” Her voice rings out from the hall, popping her head in to see you and Zayne eating together. “Oh my gosh! No way you finally told them about Tara!”

—--

“I have to say, I’m shocked at how… submissive Greyson was. He totally got into some sub-space or something, y’know?”

Zayne pauses, staring at his sandwich for a moment before lifting his gaze to you “I’m not. After all,” he deadpans, “he is my sub -ordinate.”

[cry-ptidd]

Despite the fact that the beginning made us believe that Alucard and Seras as a bond would be at the core of the story, they ended up interacting meaningfully way too little. So I would definitely have changed that.

It's another chance to show some kind of development for Dracula himself this way. Because when he turns people into vampires, he either isolates them like an undead Bluebeard with the three sisters, or instantly abandons them and let them fend for themselves so he can move on with new thrills, like he did with Lucy. That surprised Van Helsing himself, because he thought Dracula would come back for her, and even guarded her tomb for that scenario (and left a note in case he gets killed), but he never showed up. Lucy ended up having to wander around confused, catching children and giving them awkward bites that doctors thought were from rats. And then even when he does the whole binding "flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin" with Mina, once again he left her and declared her duty now is to turn Jonathan and the men into his jackals. And that when he needs her as a companion and helper he will call her mentally so she'll cross a land and sea for him. For his deadbeat ass. If you want me to see any change from the past then I would like him to be with Seras meaningfully instead of having her deal with being a vampire on her own and a frankly inexperienced woman.

(And while this is Dracula-based, in my defense the manga started it, if they didn't want me to look at the story under that lens they should have made Alucard and the Hellsings OCs.)

I agree with ALL OF THIS. You put it perfectly. And now I will go into a rant of analyzing Alucard and Seras because of this.

Mini Essay of Alucard, Seras and fledglings

At the beginning of the manga we have small bits of Alucard teaching Seras, like the shooting range,

Her third eye, (amazing shot on the second page btw)

Then him just telling her to go apeshit and aim for a ghoul's head, which he interprets as her coming to terms with her new unlife instead of the violent, bloodlust-filled high that newly turned vampires seem to get in the story. (The difference being that when Seras comes to, she's disgusted with herself. The second time, because she's not skewered by bayonets.)

And then he acts like she's got it all. The only other time I can recall him helping her is when he reminded her of her third eye against Zorin. As much as I adore Alucard he's fucking idiot of a teacher.

Seras is just like Lucy — he turns her on a whim (you can't tell me Seras is the ONLY human he found that has determination and survival instincts) then lets her roam around. The only reason Seras isn't as confused and wild as Lucy is because Alucard HAS to teach her — and even then he does the bare minimum so she doesn't die. When Seras is attacked by Anderson, he doesn't even try to shield her physically and lets her fight on her own so he can have a dick measuring contest with Anderson. Then, when THAT goes array, his solution is to make her drink his blood — which is both very respectable imo and quite smart, as she then would be powerful enough to at least flee and wouldn't be shackled by him. Except he'd still let a 20 something newly undead woman into the unknown — no fucking wonder Seras sticks by his side. That poor girl is scared shitless and had her whole world flipped upside down in like 20 minutes one night. Then he gets mad because he doesn't understand emotions beside pride, bloodlust and anger and whatnot. Though he still praises Seras when she's not around to hear it.

Though, anon, I have to tremendously thank you for this ask, because now I understand why Alucard's such a fucking deadbeat with Seras. He's just so damn irresponsible with every one of his fledglings and everyone whose lives he ruined. As Dracula, he underestimated humans and overestimated vampires– he was so used to having dominion over his land that he thought that anyone would bow to him and, if he infected them with vampirism, obey him without hesitation or resistance. Then, he got beaten and had his worldview and pride knocked down a couple pegs, and then seemed to try and nourish relationships a bit more— as long as they proved worthy in his eyes.

Alucard's vision of "teaching" Seras is extremely minimal, and he gets mad when he doesn't get results within one month of practice, or when she doesn't embrace her monstrosity yet (something I bet Mina did that annoyed him immensely too, considering that's why he got got). It's, however unintentionally, an excellent way to analyze Alucard's way of interacting with others: when it comes to genuine emotional intimacy, he seems to know fuck all. That might also explain why Dracula treated Jonathan the way he did– curiosity, fierce possessiveness, then biting and leaving him to the sisters to most likely become a vampire too so he can keep him.

We needed way more interactions between Seras and Alucard. They're connected in a way that only him and Integra are; she depends on him for everything basically. And he has no idea how to deal with her because she has the opposite of his way of seeing things: she wants to stay with him because she seems to genuinely enjoy his presence and finds him to be a person of comfort instead of just her master, she only uses violence if she has to (and even then it comes with reluctance), and comes to see those with that power-battle-glory mentality as kind of childish. She cherishes relationships and the people in her life instead of seeing them as a hierarchy of who to obey, live next to, and who to kill.

I think Seras shouldn't have gone along with the whole "master" shtick from the beginning. She's a normal late 90s young woman, ain't no way she didn't find having to use that honorific at least a BIT weird. I would've adored if we got more everyday interactions in the beginning where he has to remind her what to call him and she's just generally very awkward in her new environment despite her abilities. It would've been great to get more attached to the characters and would also have quite some comedic potential.

Another thing I would've loved to see is her possibly flustering or throwing off Alucard by being just nice. He lives in a world of kill or be killed and might makes right and whatnot, with a fierce militaristic mindset and respects hierarchy above all (even his view of humans has the "worthy ones" and the "unworthy ones"); to see her being not only kind to him, but see her actively try to connect and bond with him in some ways would probably surprise him. It's not something you'd do to achieve a significant goal or her trying to get a favor or her obeying his commands like the servant she's supposed to be; Seras just seeing him as part of her close circle and someone she trusts (an entire essay could be written on this idea alone, might do it later) and wants to see happy and someone to be with would be JARRING to him.

Even during the whole hunt for Millenium deal. We could've gotten them having alone time or her seeking out Alucard because the idea of a war really stresses her out. We had an abominable lack of Alucard's emotional reactions when it comes to other characters aside from the end where he wept for Anderson and when he said his goodbyes to Integra. Seras of all characters really deserved to get some reacting from him. Because the moment he bit Seras, no matter how he envisioned it to go, he had someone he was responsible to care for.

[brattyspence]

Would you maybe write something for depressed reader and spencer taking care of her? Maybe some unhealthy coping mechanisms on readers part? 🥹

I've been going through a bit of a rough patch and can really relate to reader and would love to imagine spencer taking care of me.

If you're not comfortable with it, I understand, but I wanted to ask.

Love your work btw!❤️ - 🦋

a/n: thank u for requesting!!!!! hi butterfly anon

tags: fluff/comfort, depression, reader uses sleeping/avoidance as a coping mechanism, rlly fluffy sticky sweet.

<600 words

-

“We could take the train out and go to the new exhibit you wanted to see?”

“Mh,” you mumble. It's less than half-hearted, muffled by the pillow smashed against your cheek. Lying on your side with your back to him, you can't see his expression, but you still know it's hopeful. It only adds to the guilt you already felt.

“Or… we could just go to the farmer’s market. Get more of the tea you like.”

You feel bad. You really do. Spencer is more patient with you than you are with yourself, and you know he's been growing restless being stuck in the apartment over every recent weekend. Still, it's like your limbs are weighted and your thoughts are elsewhere; the idea of doing things is more unappealing than anything.

“Don’t want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

You close your phone, leaving behind the morning of doom scrolling. You rub your eyes, trying to stop the growing strain with cold fingertips.

“Go back to sleep.”

The room grows silent again, save for the soft sound of steady breathing. You know Spencer well enough to understand that he's scheming something.

“You can't sleep all day,” he says, voice somehow managing to become softer than it already was.

“Why?”

The question drags a sigh from his lips, and you feel the bed shift.

You've always been thankful for the many ways Spencer is good at reading you. Now, though, it feels more like a drain on energy, and you feel bad for thinking that.

Warm fingertips find your side, guiding you onto your back. You can't even manage to roll your eyes the way you intended to before his hands make their way towards your face, coaxing loose strands of hair off your forehead in a way that's so tender you could cry right then and there.

“Why can't you sleep all day?”

“Mhm.”

“Because you need to do something,” he says, looking down at you. “Eat something. Shower. Move.”

“But-”

“No ‘but,’” he says. “I'm not letting you spend a third day like this.”

This time, when you huff in response you find the covers being pulled away from you.

“Ten more minutes?”

You track him with your eyes, watching him get up and make his way around the bed. He stops next to your side, offering his hand to you.

“Angel. You wanted ‘ten more minutes’ on Friday. It's Sunday.”

You can't argue with him on this. Instead, you take his hand and let him pull you up to sitting, legs dancing off the edge of the bed as you look up at him. Your eyes flutter shut as he tucks your hair behind your ears once again. It's not out of necessity, but love. When his warm hands cup your jaw next, you know he's waiting for your attention.

“I don't want to leave the apartment,” you mumble.

“We don't have to,” he replies, shaking his head. “You can go shower, I'll find something for you to eat, and we can do something at home–that's not sleeping.”

“Cuddle?”

“I mean, the point is you need to be up and moving,” he says. “But I don't think I can deny you anything.”

When you finally crack a smile, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

[issues4him]

I love your blue collar rafe and sahm reader 🥹🥹

What is their backstory? Like how did they meet etc

thank you bby!! let’s talk about their lore!

you met rafe when you were seventeen, the summer before senior year. he didn’t go to your school—you actually met him through a mutual friend at a bonfire one night. he was tall, tan, had dirt under his nails and the cockiest smile you’d ever seen. you teased him for wearing boots in the sand. he called you a smartass and grinned like he already knew he’d never let you go.

two weeks later, you were officially dating. only a week after that, he kissed you in his beat up pick up truck after a late-night drive, hands trembling, voice quiet when he said, “i know it’s early, like, really early, but i’m just gonna say it—‘cause i already know. i love you.” you said it back. because you knew too. knew he was going to be yours for the rest of time.

you were still just teenagers, but rafe talked about the future like it was already mapped out. he told you he wanted to work hard, build a life, make enough so you’d never have to worry about a thing. he said if you wanted to stay home with the kids someday, he’d make damn sure you could. and you wanted that. you wanted it all with him.

at nineteen, you found out you were pregnant. you cried—not out of fear—well, yes, out of fear, but also because everything felt so real all of a sudden. rafe was twenty and working full time already, and when you told him, he was speechless for a while. kept asking “you’re serious?!”. after he calmed down a bit more, he just wrapped his arms around you and said, “guess we’re startin’ our forever a little earlier than expected, baby.”

emmett was born later that year in october—tiny, loud, perfect. rafe was obsessed. he took so many photos of you holding him in your hospital bed and whispered, “he’s gonna be just like his daddy.” and you looked up at him with a soft smile, “i sure hope so.”

you got married a year later. it nothing fancy—just a small venue, close family and friends, a simple white dress and yet rafe still shed a couple tears when you walked in. your mom had offered to take emmett for the night, and you and rafe took advantage of the hotel suite you had alone.

when you were twenty-two and he was twenty-three, you planned for baby number two. you wanted a girl. you prayed for a girl. and you got wren. rafe built her nursery himself—painted the walls soft pink and white, put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling so she’d never be afraid of the dark. she came out with a full head of hair and a death grip on rafe’s finger. he nearly cried harder than he did the first time.

“daddy’s girl,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “she’s gonna turn me soft.”

you weren’t planning on a third. but hunter came along two years later—another boy, wild from the womb, all lungs and messy hair just like his daddy’s. that pregnancy was harder. there were too many complications that you couldn’t bare to go through again. it also took a huge toll on your body and your mind. you told rafe you couldn’t do it again, not and still be the mother you wanted to be. he was quiet at first—maybe even a little disappointed. you knew he would’ve had ten kids if it meant hearing them call him dada. after a while, he nodded, kissed your temple, and whispered, “three’s perfect, baby. i got everything i ever wanted.”

present day, emmett’s six, just learning how to ride a bike and asking too many questions. wren’s four, clingy and sassy as ever. always attached to rafe’s hip like she was born to be there. hunter’s two, his baby fat starting to fade with crooked grins and mischief.

you stay home with them. you pack rafe’s lunch every morning, kiss him goodbye with his thermos in one hand and maverick, your golden retriever, wagging his tail as rafe gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

rafe comes home every night smelling like sweat, sawdust, and sunshine. he walks straight past the kids, past the chaos, and kisses you first—because you come first, always.

sometimes you catch him standing in the doorway, looking at all of it—your home, your babies, you in a messy bun and hunter on your hip—and he just smiles.

because this is everything he ever dreamed of.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Trein's vignette story is SO funny so based on it I'm suggesting this prompt: Lucius messing with Grim after that by being extra sweet with MC and making him jealous. He was SOOOOO ready switch places with Lucius so clearly he doesn't care too much, right? (cat familiar wars ahoy)

A Storied Past.

"Professor Trein is always spoiling ya! Head pats, toys, snacks...! I wanna lay around and have that kinda good life too! Hey, Lucius! Swap places with me!"

Two can play at that game.

"Mffrow."

"Hm?" You glanced down to find Trein's familiar circling your ankles. His big, bushy tail brushed your calves with each rotation, tickling you. "Oh, it's just Lucius!"

"Mrow mrow," he greeted, depositing something at your feet. Crouching, you found a daisy--most likely torn from a flower bed in the courtyard.

"Aww, is this for me? Thank you!"

Grim, who had been strolling beside you, skidded to a halt. His fur stood on end, but he didn't quite manage a full-on hiss at his fellow feline. "Oi, what's the big deal?! Can't you see my minion's tryin' ta walk here? You're gettin' in their way!"

"It's fine, Grim. He's just trying to be sweet." Much to the direbeasts's chagrin, you gave Lucius a good stroke behind his ears. The familiar purred contentedly, nuzzling against your palm. "Hehehe, he's so friendly today. What's up, little guy?"

Lucius promptly nodded. He lifted a paw and laid it upon your hand, as if in an attempt to hold it.

"Are you looking for company? Well, I think you've found it. We'll hang out with you while Trein's busy--won't we, Grim?"

"I dunno... I wasn't countin' on a third wheel joinin' us for lunch," he protested--but you were already hoisting Lucius up and allowing him to get comfortable in your arms. From his elevated throne, Lucius cast a smug grin at Grim.

Anger raked through him.

Th-That should be MY spot! He up 'n snatched it up like it was nothing!!

"Grrrrr..." Grim crossed his arms. "That go-good, two-timin' Lucius! He's definitely tryin' to steal the spotlight away from me! I... I won't let that happen!!"

"Grim?"

"M-Myah?!" He snapped out of his thoughts and looked. You had already taken several pages down Main Street, ferrying Lucius with you.

"You coming?" you asked. "You've been kind of standing there and muttering to yourself."

"W-Wait up, minion!" Bounding after you on all fours, Grim called out frantically. "Don't leave me behind...!"

You stifled a laugh. "Don't worry, I won't," you reassured him in your most soothing tone of voice. "You're the great Grim, after all. Where would I be without you?"

[sea-changed]

"#i have a post to write at some point about the way this movie depicts intimacy between men physical and otherwise" I WOULD LIKE TO READ IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU!! I really have no conclusions at this point, I'm just so interested in the spectrum of ways that the movie depicts intimacy and physicality (as separate but overlapping categories) between its male characters in a way that feels unusual and unselfconscious on the film's part. There's such a variety of dynamics going on: the intense, constant, often boyish but also more charged physicality between László and Attila; the comfortable intimate but not particularly physical friendship between László and Gordon; the largely intellectual relationship and later power struggle between László and Van Buren that culminates in the brutally physical. There's so much going on, on so many different axes.

(Heads up for, perhaps obviously, discussion of rape.)

With László and Attila, in many ways they seem to be able to connect meaningfully only on a physical level (that first hug, my god); when they try to talk to each other (the first scene at Attila's desk, the last scene when he kicks László out) it doesn't go well. The dance scene, meanwhile, is in some weird third space--the sexually charged coercion going on is pretty overt, but the physicality between the two of them (as opposed to between László and Audrey) never seems uncomfortable or strained.

Meanwhile László and Gordon's intimacy seems to be adjacent but peripheral to direct physicality--Gordon singing to him as László wraps the rope around him to ensure his safety; the way Gordon takes László's cigarette in the jazz club bathroom; them on László's bed together. A lot of their relationship is spoken, though not necessarily directly to each other: László telling Erzsébet he couldn't have gotten the Institute project off the ground without Gordon, for instance, or László saying to the bouncer, I know he is in there, my friend would not leave me.

László and Orazio seem to have the most uncomplicated and warm intimacy, both physical (the hugs are so good) and spoken (will I ever be over Orazio calling him darling; probably not). We also of course see them for the least amount of screentime of any of the relationships discussed here, but I do like that the film establishes an intimacy beyond the bounds of what we see directly: Orazio talking about László's stubbornness, or how much he enjoys a party, or Van Buren (unreliable narrator extraordinaire, but I think this could be taken at face value) saying Orazio carried László to bed.

And of course a brief note here on László and Harry--he twice tries to physically dominate László in a way that almost makes it look like he's grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, using that physicality to undergird what he's saying. László allows it after the Christmas party and shakes it off after the groundbreaking ceremony, but both times it's very loaded.

Conversely, though, László and Van Buren's physical relationship doesn't have this same kind of menacing tone until, of course, the rape scene itself. The first time they touch in the film it's László's doing, when he reaches out to touch Van Buren's hand at Christmas dinner after the conversation about helping to get Erzsébet to America. (I could write pages about this moment; it breaks my fucking heart.) (And then that moment ends up having a terrible sort of mirror in the scene at the beginning of part two, when their hands touch as Van Buren makes László hand back the penny.) Van Buren doesn't try to physically dominate László the way Harry does, and indeed the way Van Buren touches him is generally quite benign--Van Buren taking him by the shoulders on the Institute site after dinner, or grabbing him by the arm after the argument with Jim Simpson, or leaning on him in the quarry. When Van Buren is at his most domineering and manipulative it's largely verbal (the crack about László's accent) or situational (going behind his back to alter the plans). A part of what's so jarring about the rape, I think, is that it's such an aggressively physical expression of something we've seen in Van Buren, up to this point, as lacking a physical component. And it's an example of physicality in the film that is not only lacking any intimacy but is in many ways the antithesis of intimacy (reinforced by the removed and virtually unmoving camera angle).

I said at the beginning that I don't have a thesis here, and I really don't; at this point I'm more or less just listing things that happen in the movie. But it's so fascinating to me, and I felt like there was such specificity to the ways that characters related to each other physically and otherwise; I think about it constantly, and maybe at some point will have some actual conclusions.

[minnielvrr]

Letter Games Pt. 1

Lee: Hannie Lers: Chan, Minho, Jeongin Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: thank you for being so patient with me everyone! and thank you for the ones who checked up on me during my absence🥺 it means a lot to me🫂🩷 i hope you guys like this!!🤗💖

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09, @dusk-mp3, @lezleeferguson-120

“You two, quiet down! Hyung is sleeping,” Jeongin hissed for the third time that day, rolling his eyes when Han stuck his tongue out at him. Minho sighed, eyes falling on their leader, curled up and snoring away quietly on one corner of their picnic blanket.

The trio had covered him in their jackets, then munched on some snacks as they whispered to each other. The warmth of the sun, the cool of the breeze and the members hushed voices had lulled him slowly to dreamland.

Innie had propped his head up on his bag and Chan had fallen asleep in seconds, strands of his dark hair weaving between lush green blades of grass.

It was an adorable sight and one that reminded the two why they had to be silent. It was rare to see him so peacefully asleep. Chan needed this nap. And so they settled down too, Han pointing out clouds and comparing them to random objects in an attempt to keep them entertained.

“Look that one looks like Chan hyung’s butt…or maybe Binnie hyung’s. And that one looks like a wahahalrus!” He whispered, dissolving into a fit of giggles when it got both Minho and Jeongin to crack up.

Oh how they missed Changbin. The dwaekki had been stubborn about going to the gym today and so was missing all this.

It was a couple of hours later that Chan woke up, brought back to consciousness by his bandmates quiet snickers.

“Hannie hyung I swear if you wake Channie hyung up, you’re gonna get wrecked so bad!” Innie threatened, although the smile in his voice and crescent shaped eyes stole any real weight to his words.

“I’m up!” The oldest announced, a fond smile playing on his lips as he sat up and stretched. “Man, that was exactly what I needed. Plus,” he added, glancing at the ace. “I had a very… enlightening dream. Innie come over.”

Eyes wide with curiosity, the maknae leaned over, shoulders rising when the leader’s breath tickled his ears. Hushed whispers were followed by a deep red flush overtaking Jeongin’s face, both amusement and admiration shining in his eyes as he leaned away to look back at Chan.

“Hyung that… that… Can he even survive that?” He asked, unable to stop his gaze from falling on Han, who now resembled a scared hamster— worry lines showing on his forehead as his eyebrows knitted in suspicion and concern. Were they talking about him?

There was no way it was that right? That would be ridiculous! Because why on earth would Chan be dreaming about tickle tactics right now?

The same was done for Minho, the kitten now sporting a grin that could only be described as demonic. “I don’t like this. What are you plotting hyung?” Han demanded, looking warily at the mastermind of all this.

“Alright,” Chan announced, “Let’s play a game Hannie: you spell your name, and for each letter, we find a tickle spot and rate it. Sounds fun, right?”

“Nope.” The ace stood up abruptly, taking a big step away from the others, “Nuh uh. Like hell it does. Why am I the one getting targeted? Innie is much more ticklish and Minho hyung is a wayy more satisfying conquest.”

His comments flustered the two, Minho glaring playfully at his while Jeongin groaned in annoyance. “Get back here hyung-ah!” A burst of action followed, Chan and Jeongin jumping up and chasing after the quokka, who stumbled as he fled for his life.

Minho laughed in second-hand embarrassment. Around them, couples and families had stopped to stare, watching three grown men tearing through the grass like kids on a playground.

It was an exposed tree root that was Hannie’s undoing. “No no no no no!!”

He tripped, landing face first on a patch of tall grass. Before he could even stand up on his own, two hands grabbed his waist, hauling him over their leader’s shoulder. He gave in then, slumping in their hold and breathing hard.

“Yes yes yes Han-ah~ We’re gonna have to get you extra good for trying to run,” Chan teased as they walked back to their spot.

Innie bullied him all the way back, discussing earnestly with Chan on which spots to get, the smirk on his face telling Han that this was meant to tease him. And it certainly did.

His chubby cheeks were rose tinted when he was put down, Minho tackling the ace into his arms. “Mhmhm nohohoho!! Youhu cahan’t dohoho thihis to me!” He squirmed uselessly when the three pinned him down, a small part of him giddy with anticipation.

Hannie’s body tingled at the way all their eyes zeroed in on his hips. They wouldn’t start with his hips right? He couldn’t handle one of his worst spots being tickled right off the bat.

“Oh yea? And who’s gonna stop us? You?” Minho mocked, hands resting on Hannie’s ribs and tapping away as if to remind him of his current predicament. He gulped, looking away when he felt his cheeks warming up. Gods if he was already this flustered….

“Now, you remember the rules right? It’s simple. You spell out your name and we tickle you on one spot for each letter. And,” Chan gently tilted Hannie’s face so he was looking right at him, “for every letter you forget or mix up, we will tickle an extra spot that we pick. You got that?”

The ace chewed his bottom lip as he nodded, utterly mortified when he felt butterflies dancing in his belly. He was so excited!

“Go on hyung-ah, spell your name for us. You know you want to~” Innie crooned and Han wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. Their dear maknae had grown very cocky since he’d started bulking, having already gotten his long due revenge on Hyunjin and Seungmin.

A tense silence followed, during which the ace’s urge to get wrecked warred with his want for self preservation. Minho magnanimously helped him along, his fingers dancing lightly against Hannie’s neck to keep him giggling adorably.

“Arghahaha! Hyuhuhung youhuhu cahan’t tihickle mehehe untihil ihihi spehell!” He protested, his train of thought derailing right into tickle land.

“Oh? Whoever said we couldn’t tickle you before you started? There weren’t any such rules Hannie~ Coochie coochie coo~” he teased, mischievous smile stretching his lips as his fingers sped up, making the younger squirm under him.

“Fine! Fihihine Ihihi’ll sahahay it!” He yelped, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “…H.”

All hell broke lose then. “Hips!” Jeongin yelled like a student getting the right answer in class. His shirt was tugged up and hands were immediately fighting to knead and scribble and drill into the quokka’s hips.

“Fuhuhuhuck nonono!! Ihihit tihihihckles sohohoho bahaHAHAD!!” Han couldn’t tell who was doing what, the ticklish sensation consuming his every thought, giggles spilling from his lips unrestrained.

Chan, sitting on his hands was doing the scribbling while Minho on his thighs was drilling in like this was his last chance to.

Innie on the other hand had moved to his side to knead into one hip at a time, alternating just to watch the poor lee twist and turn, trying and failing to lean away. “Wow hyungie, it’s like you become more ticklish each time we tickle you!” He marveled at the older’s ability to endure the sweet torture.

“Ihihi hahaha HAHATE YOUHUHU GUHUHYS!! AHHH MINHO HYUHUHUHUNG PLEHEHEASE!!” Hannie was thrown into hysterics, giggly laughter morphing into frantic cackles when Minho bent down to blow a raspberry on one hip.

Chan took mercy on him though, Hannie’s face was bright red, his wide, heart shaped smile on full display as he laughed and writhed under their hands. “Just spell the next letter when you want us to move on.”

“A! A! Plehehease Ihihihi cahan’t tahake ihihit thehehere anyhymore!!”

“Oh you asked for it baby. Too bad your first letters spell out your worst spots one after the other~” The leader chuckled at his plight. It was too amusing to stop though. So he dived right in, then stilled when an idea popped in his head.

“How do you want us to get you here Han-ah? Should I go light like this?” He cooed, slipping his hands into Hannie’s sleeves and brushed the sensitive skin lightly with the lips of his fingers. He watched as Hannie’s previous sounds quietened down, sweet bubbly giggles escaping his lips.

“Or rough?” He hooked his thumb into the hollow and vibrated in quickly, thrusting the poor lee into belly laughter, head thrown back and legs kicking the ground behind Minho. “LIGHT! PLEHEHEHASE CHAHAHANNIE HYUHUHUNG GO SLOHOHOW! IHIHIHI’M BEHEHEGGING!!”

“As you wish baby,” the leader promised, switching back to gentle tracing and light back and forth strokes of his nails. It was just enough stimulation to keep Hannie’s melodious sounds filling their little corner of the park, but not so rough that he’d get overwhelmed.

“Hyuhuhung ahahaha ihihit tihihickles hyuhuhung! ihihihit tihihihihckles!!” Hannie told them, watery eyes blinking up at them. “Does it now? And do you like it? I can feel you leaning in you know?” Chan looked at him, amused and endeared.

Their little ace really was the cutest ever. Poor Hannie blushed even darker at being outed, hiding his face in his arm. “Shuhuhuhut uhuhup! Youhuhu mahade mehehe dohoho thihihis!”

“Do you want us to stop then, baby?” Minho asked, a knowing smile on his face as he brushed Hannie’s bangs back from his sweaty forehead.

“Mhmhmhm myhyhy nahahame stihihill has mohohore lehehetters tohoho gohoho youhuhu knohow!” He mumbled between shy laughter, peering at them from his hiding place.

“That’s right! Hyung still has seven more letters to go. You’re so cute Hannie hyung. You can just say you like this~” Innie teased, throwing in a quick scribble to the older’s belly to make him jump. They really adored this shy side of their friend.

Han whined then. They were enjoying his flustered state wayy too much! It wasn’t fair. Just a twitch of Chan’s fingers and another bout of laughter slipped past his lips. It soon grew unbearable, the soft tickles sending tingles down his whole body, making the lee feel like he was a live wire.

“N!! Nehehehext spohohot plehehease!” He begged, gasping for breath. The unshed tears were more prominent in his eyes now. His blush had spread down his neck, color bleeding into his chest.

“Aww is this too much for you Hannie? I’m tickling you so gently and you still can’t take it?” The leader taunted but paused to give the younger a break.

“N is for Navel!” Jeongin cheered, wiggling his fingers at his hyung. It made Hannie’s breath hitch. The trio waited till the ace’s breathing had evened out, Minho rubbing soothing (and slightly ticklish) circles into his waist.

“You ready?” Minho asked, voice soft when he looked at Han, making sure the younger really was okay with continuing.

“I'm okay, hyung. Um... will you... uh... tickle me on more spots if I spell multiple letters at once? Just wondering… Is that one of the rules?" Han asked hesitantly, boba eyes looking right at Chan.

"Hmm, well it wasn't... But now that you mention it, maybe it should be one of the rules. Do you want it to be baby?" Chan's mind was running a mile a minute with that idea, playing with all the ways he could try this game on the rest of the members back at the dorms.

Hannie blushed hard but nodded. He wanted more. And he was curious what spots they would pick for each letter.

And maybe a teeny tiny part of him really wanted this too— to see how much he could take and how merciless his lers could be. After all, these three were probably the most sadistic ones he knew.

“Go on, spell for us.” Jeongin whined impatiently, taking his seat on the older’s calves. Now Sungie really was pinned completely.

“J…I…S.” His next words came out as a surprised screech when, without warning, Jeongin’s hands found his thighs and squeezed. “J for joints!” He spoke cheerfully, squeezing and scribbling and massaging the spot.

“Wait! Nohohoho Ihihihi dihihihidn’t thihihink thihis throughuhuhu ahaHAHAHAHAHH!!” A squeal cut through his bubbly laughter once Minho and Chan also joined in.

“Hey you can’t complain! You asked for this Hannie~ You even thought of it yourself!” Chan chided him, hands busily moving from his waist and up to Hannie’s ribs, clawing and pinching the skin.

Minho had leaned back, massaging his thumbs into the younger’s inner thighs to have Jisung screaming incoherently. It really wasn’t fair that his name covered so many of his worst spots!

Hannie twisted and writhed as best he could, only managing to shake his head and flap his feet and occasionally jerk his torso away from one of Chan’s cruel hands.

“FUHUHUHUHUCK!!! SHIHIT IHIHI CAHAHAN’T OHOHO MYHYHY GAHAHAHAHAD!!” Hicuppy laughter flowed from his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if to clock out the sensations racing across his skin.

“Yah! There are kids here! You can’t curse, Jisung-ah,” the leader scolded. And his hands sped up, punishing poor Hannie with even more tickles which kinda did their job.

Now any curse words that came up would die in his throat until nothing but pure, unfiltered sounds of joy escaped. He laughed and laughed and laughed, forgetting how this stupid game even begun in the first place.

“Three more letters baby. What the last ones?” Minho prompted, noticing how out of it their ace looked.

“IHIHI CAHAHAN’T REHEHEMEHEMBER! PLEHEHEASE SLOHOHOW DOHOHOWN!! IHIHI CAHANT THIHIHINK!” He gasped out finally, and the three obliged, slowing their hands until they were merely resting on the tortured spots.

Han panted, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Then he remembered. The last 3 letters. Oh god. Which spots would they target? U for underarms, N for neck and G for…? Damn he couldn’t think of any…

“Uh…U, N and G! That’s all the letters.” He spoked regardless. He wondered what spot the others would target for his last letter.

“Okay U for underarms,” Minho nodded in satisfaction. “N for neck, of course!” Chan followed. They all turned to Jeongin, who smirked cockily. That brat had something up his sleeve!

“Ghost spots~” He said and was greeted with three matching looks of confusion. “You’ll see!” He reassured and let the oldest duo start.

Minho hooked his thumbs into the younger’s hollows and alternated the sides he would tickle, giggling when it had Hannie flailing left and right like a fish out of water.

“Nohohoho!! Mihihihinhohoho hyuhuhung stoHAHAHAHAP BEHEHEING MEHEHEAN!!” His laughter doubled in volume when Chan joined at his neck, trailing his fingertips before scribbling at the soft skin.

Jeongin observed the scene for a moment, taking in the bright pink of his hyung’s chubby cheeks and the tears now dripping down the sides of his face. His beautiful heart shaped smile stretching his lips as he kicked and squealed helplessly.

Then he went in for the kill. “Tickle, tickle, tickle Hannie hyung~” He taunted, drawing attention to himself and delighting in the way Hannie’s crescent shaped eyes followed his hands with a kind of desperation. “NohoHOHOhoho!! Stahahay awahahay frohom thehehere!!”

He then brought his wiggling fingers to hover just millimeters over the lee’s belly, loving the way Hannie tried to suck in his stomach, only for it to spasm with his laughter.

His skin would brush Innie’s fingers and flinch away only for the maknae to move his hands to another spot and repeat it.

“Ihihihihie youhuhuhu’re ahahan ahahahass!” He whined through his giggles after the maknae switched spots for the third time, teasing him relentlessly. That was when the youngest struck. Not his belly? Then that’s exactly where he would aim.

Just when Han threw his head back in frustration, Innie’s hands found the skin of his belly, using all ten fingers to vibrate into the spot.

“ACK! NOHOHOHOHO GOHOHOHODS IHIHI SAHAID NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!” He screeched, laughter loud and high pitched. He gasped and squealed and kicked and twisted but there was no escape. He was here, pinned down and he would have to take it.

Han felt like he was losing his mind, the tingly sensations taking over nerve and thought of his and filling his brain with how much everything tickled.

After a minute of non stop tickling, Hannie was like putty in their hands, his limbs like jelly, no strength left in them to even squirm anymore. His laughter began to die down, wheezes punctuating every sound until the trio let him go.

“What a mess you’ve become,” Minho huffed out a laugh at his state— hair and clothes messed up beyond saving and tear tracks lining the sides of his face.

Chan handed him a bottle of water that he gulped down hurriedly and Innie wiped his flushed face carefully. “Youhuhu guhuys are insahane… We should definitely make the rest of them suffer too!” He grinned.

With immediate agreement from the other three as well, that is exactly what they did. But for now, Hannie would be getting his well deserved cuddle time to recover from his own tickle attack.