#mr love fanfic

[yourssinfullyquiche]

Morning

Hello, all you beautiful people🥰 SMUT SMUT SMUT— This is an NSFW drabble Hope you enjoy~

The voice he uses when he wakes me. Husky and low. Sometimes it’s due to tiredness, lack of sleep, and work. Other times—most of the time, it’s the knowledge that my body tingles with goosebumps when I hear it close to the shell of my ear.

“Morning…,” he exhales softly against my ear that it tickles. The rough layers reverberate through me, fluttering around in my lower belly. The breath I take in is quick to calm my beating heart yet it is futile when his hand languidly traces the band of my panties over my cream nightgown. The hem has ridden up to my thigh and this does not go unnoticed by officer Gavin’s keen eyes. 

My voice comes out lazily. “Mmm morning.” The band stretches and smacks lightly on my hips as his fingers play with it. I bite the inside of my mouth, guide his naughty hand to my soaking pussy that awaits his fingers and the moan that escapes me is immediate when his fingers slip in and come into contact with the bud of nerves. 

It’s aching when one finger slips in, followed by another. They move without hesitation, those nimble fingers. My toes curl inwards, soft moans of his name escape my lips. Then I feel it, his hardened cock grinding against me, the quivering sighs teasing my ear knowing full well how it shoots sparks straight to my core, that it only serves to make me more hot and wet. 

My body’s on fire and it coils further and further into a tight knot desperately waiting for the inevitable snap that would release me into oblivion. “Almost there,” he whispers as he adds another finger. His lips rest on my temple leaving a few kisses. The couple of moans I let out are the only response he gets. His fingers are unrelenting in their mission, slamming in and out, teasing the bud of nerves—the friction as he rolls his cock to my ass makes me see stars. 

“Ga-gavin...” In my fogged out brains the squelching sounds register—it’s erotic and like a moth drawn to a flame my body responds to it, making me moan louder. The way I am right now—naked, vulnerable, an incoherent mess and on the verge of falling apart, it’s only for his eyes. I aimlessly find something to grip as I near the breaking point, the bedsheet is my victim but it slips away easily. Almost instantly, Gavin’s idle hand envelopes mine, our fingers fill the spaces between. 

“Thank y-ahhhh!” I grip onto his hand as I reach the blinding crest and feel my whole body tremble with overwhelming relief and satisfaction. It takes moments for my body to come down from the high, moments where I’m breathing hard, where Gavin licks his fingers clean, showers me with kisses everywhere he lays his lips on, runs his fingers through my hair with praises from his lips.

I turn to face him, meet his lips in a deep kiss. My hand travels to the obvious bulge, I don’t need to see to know what the dampness means. He shudders with a groan, eyes darting to mine and away from them in a second, hand on my hips bunching the fabric of my nightgown. And of course a red hue dusts his skin, ears in its wonted heavy colour. 

“It’s your turn,” I say softly. He puts his hand over mine, shaking his head. “It’s okay. You have to get ready for work,” he pats my bottom prompting me to leave the bed. Leave him alone as he takes care of himself. Who’s he fooling?

I push his hand away, look into his whiskey eyes that are clearly dilated and hungry and decide I won’t let him deny me the bliss I feel when I satiate his needs. I grip his clothed cock a little harshly and look directly at him when he moans. 

“You want me?”

He starts and swallows, blushes deeper and then nods, dark whiskey eyes never leaving mine. “Answer me,” I move to his jaw and pepper it with kisses. 

“Yes,” Gavin says, his voice tight. 

The kiss is hard and sloppy as my hand slips into his boxer and hold his aching cock.

“Then let me take care of you…”

-

A/N: Thank you for reading❤️

It's been far too long people. I've been busy with college, exams, results and the aftermath of being plunged into "the world." I just graduated and am in the midst of finding a job. It's tough and I've been adjusting to this new normal. So, I haven't had the mood to sit down and let my writing juices flow. But I'm working on something and this is part 1 of a smut series.

AND credits to @cafekitsune for the lovely dividers😚 Everyone if you need dividers to pretty up your posts, please check out the blog~ The creator has some awesome dividers!

© YOURSSINFULLYQUICHE2023 — no part of this writing shall be plagiarised, translated or reposted in any way. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Taglist: @playheej  @purple-cat-demon @rinharu-purple (if you want to join my taglist, please visit my blog and click the link available on my pinned post)

[missproducergirl]

beloved - kiro (ml;qc)

pairing: kiro x reader

genre: angst, fluff

summary: kiro remembers master key's words about being surrounded with loved ones and questions who are his loved ones supposed to be.

word count: 3,539

notes: happy birthday to my #1 husband! i am so sad about the lack of kiro fics recently T-T. i pray that the ml;qc tumblr fandom has a recession because i miss those fics dearly. anyways, here is my yearly installment on kiro's birthday! it is a bit rushed but i hope it's at least bearable to read ahah...

As the final piano notes chimed, the crowd split into a shower of adoring cheers. An enchanting smile broke Kiro’s face as the golden-colored confetti slowly rained down on him. Some of it landed in his honey curls, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fiery and his breath was uneven, yet, even in his disheveled appearance, Kiro seemed like a statue sculpted by the gentle hands of an artist.

An angel.

A star.

The audience’s applause died down. There was a moment of silence, and just as Kiro was about to announce his final song, he was overcome with a chill.

“Happy birthday to you…”

A small voice broke out from the mass. It was small and delicate at first, a bit unsteady and clumsy. But soon, more people started merging in on the short celebration.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Kiro’s heart felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest. The sea of golden lights from the audience reflected in his eyes, softening them. It felt as if the universe had gifted him a personal night sky.

“Happy birthday dear Kiro…”

Their voices were merged into a mighty unison. Like a powerful river sweeping up everything in its way, they swept up Kiro’s heart in their current. It took everything in him not to burst out into tears.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Thunderous applause rang out throughout the stadium once again. Except, this time they were not praising Kiro for his melodic voice, his fluent dancing skills, or even his handsome looks. Right now, they were honoring him for simply existing. Because on this day, 21-and-something years ago, a star was born.

“Thank you… Thank you, everyone. Truly and sincerely, thank you.”

Kiro could not find the words that could come close to describing his gratitude. How could he put it into terms that this specific moment was the sole purpose of his existence? How could he express the prolonged and dreadful nights of his youth, falling asleep completely alone on his bed with no one to remember his birthday? How could he convey the hours in class, daydreaming about being on stage exactly like in this moment? How could he explain the unnerving feeling that after his life would end… the only ones mourning his death would be the tranquil feathers in the lake and the stars that left behind a trail of tears as they fell from the heavens in grieving memory of him. Yet now, his fears were drowned out by the people who idolized him. Each proclamation of their love washed away the suspicions of his heart bit by bit.

Oh, how he wished he could have gone back in time and told himself that all of his struggles would finally pay off. That all of the torture and the disappearances and the disarray and the heartache would paint this moment in unspeakable magnificence.

There was only so much Kiro could say to reciprocate their overwhelming love. To make up for it, in his heart, Kiro renewed the promise that he made to himself all those years ago. He will push himself to new limits—pour his heart into every song and implement a piece of his soul into every performance to make sure they knew that he felt the same way about them.

With those overwhelmingly inspiring emotions, Kiro finished his concert.

His agent was the first one to greet him as soon as he stepped backstage.

“Kiro, happy birthday! You didn’t think I would forget, did you? Here… I got you a little something,” Savin shoved a little brown paper bag into Kiro’s hands.

Kiro couldn’t help but peek inside. It was a mini orange cake with a big purple flower on the top. It was quite cute.

“My oh my, Savin. Since when are you the one to appeal to my sweet tooth?”

“Don’t get too happy just yet. This is the only time I will allow this. You may eat anything you want today—but don’t eat too much. You must remember that you still have one more concert to perform at.”

“Yeah, yeah, Savin… I know…”

Savin’s serious face finally broke into a smile as he ruffled Kiro’s hair, “Happy birthday, Kiro. You’re a good kid… really. I am very honored to be working with you.”

The rest of the crew finally caught up with Savin and gathered around Kiro, congratulating him.

“Wow! You’re 21 years old today! That’s a special age.”

“You’re all grown up now Kiro.”

“You should’ve told us beforehand that it was your birthday, Kiro! We would’ve prepared something for you.”

Kiro’s grin never left his face, “There’s no need… really. Everything I need to be happy is already right here.”

It would kill him to admit it, but in reality, Kiro hadn’t remembered that it was his birthday until the birthday song just a few moments ago. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty about this. After all, it was Master Key—his savior—that gave this day to him. It felt almost disrespectful not to honor it. When his personhood had been stripped of him as he was taken to that horrid place in his youth—it was Master Key who had given back the identity that he was robbed of. Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone that. He kept it a secret through most of his life, so how would he be able to speak of it now?

“Alright everyone, settle down,” Savin spoke through the commotion, “Kiro, let’s get you home. You’ve worked so hard today, you deserve some rest.”

“But don’t you guys need my help to clean up?”

“No… I insist. Let’s go back.”

***

Kiro sat in the passenger's seat as the car sped down the road. It was quite late already, and the streets were mostly clear aside from a few lone travelers.

As he looked outside at the passing city lights, Kiro couldn’t help but remember his words from earlier.

“Everything I need to be happy is already right here.”

He couldn’t help but ponder whether he actually believed that statement, or perhaps was simply deceiving himself. On one hand, he was content with the life he was currently leading. But on the other—if he were to imagine a perfect world… Master Key would surely have been right here beside him. And that girl from the orphanage… yeah, it would’ve been nice if she was with him at this special moment too—

“We’re here.”

Savin’s voice snapped Kiro out of his deep thought. He hadn’t even realized that they were already parked outside of his hotel.

“Oh… yeah.”

Kiro dug around in the backseat to find his dance bag. He then clutched at Savin’s gift and was about to leave when—

“Hey. Do you wanna… come in?” Kiro suddenly asked once he realized that his agent did not move an inch, hands still firmly placed on the steering wheel as if he was trying to make a speedy escape.

Savin sighed, “I would love to stay longer, but I have to get back to the venue. I have to make sure that the clean-up goes smoothly.”

“I can wait for you to get back.”

“Then I need to plan out your schedule for next month when you get back to Loveland,” upon seeing Kiro’s sullen face, he quickly added, “I’m sorry. Believe me when I say that I would much rather spend time with you than plan schedules… but I simply can’t. I’ll make it up to you next week when you go on break. Just tell me where you want to go and we’ll do it. Just not tonight… Please… don’t be upset.”

There was an awkward pause between the two of them. A moment that stretched out for too long. When suddenly, Kiro broke out into a laugh.

“Alright, but I’ll remember that. I’ll make sure we go to every bakery in the city. And… you cannot go back on your word.”

Savin sighed, this time with relief, “Of course. Have a good night Kiro. Go to bed early today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Take care now.”

Savin’s SUV pulled out of the parking lot hurriedly. It sped off into the distance… and Kiro’s smile disappeared along with it.

***

Kiro never noticed it before, but his hotel room seemed overwhelmingly quiet at this moment. He would have simply ridden it off as a dramatic contrast in volume between the calmness of his room and the intensity of the concert… yet he couldn’t help but think that this feeling had nothing to do with volume at all.

Kiro dropped off his bags by the door and then desperately powered on the TV in hopes of getting rid of this uneasy emotion in his chest. This proved to be effective, but only by a mere fraction. Soon, the TV was nothing but a minor buzz in the background, and the silence swallowed him whole again.

He stood there in the middle of everything, the smile that was on his face merely a few minutes ago had disappeared, instead replacing his features with an apathetic look. His eyes—which were once so bright now had their light extinguished, leaving only a pitiable gloom.

No… no, wait…

Kiro shook his head as if to reset his thoughts. He wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity and ruin this joyful day for himself. After all, he was supposed to be optimistic. That is what Master Key would have wanted. That is what everyone wants. And perhaps… that was what he wants as well.

Kiro suddenly remembered the mini cake that Savin had given him. Perhaps that would make him feel a little better. After all, sweets always seemed to lift his mood.

He quickly took it out of the brown paper bag and set it down on the little kitchen island. He didn’t have a candle to light, but that didn’t seem to matter at this moment. Kiro clasped his hands together, and, as if to not disturb this fragile atmosphere, began to hum in a quiet voice.

“Happy birthday to you…”

“Kiro, you must remember this day. I might not be the one who’ll spend every 9th of April with you in the future, but I hope that you will always be in the company of loved ones.”

“Happy birthday to you…”

“Loved ones… Will they be by my side?”

“Happy birthday dear Kiro…”

“Of course. Because Kiro is the most awesome and the cutest kid in the world.”

“Happy birthday to—”

Kiro suddenly paused as he remembered this dialogue he had with Master Key all those years ago.

Loved ones…? Who… were his loved ones? Before, Kiro had thought that the whole world were his loved ones. But if he were to believe what Master Key had said, his loved ones were the people who celebrated his birthdays with him.

It was at this moment that it dawned on Kiro that he was completely alone in the small hotel room.

His hands slightly trembled and his vision blurred with tears.

No… this can’t be it. Had the moments of bliss just a few hours ago been nothing but an illusion? Why had he felt that when he was up on stage, all of the things that troubled him simply faded away? But now that he was in his room, far away from the lights and the confetti and the persona of Kiro, he was brought back to face with the things that he thought he would never have to confront again. Where were all of his adoring fans? All of the people who supported him? Everyone that loved and idolized him?

Where were his loved ones?

They sure weren’t here now.

When the spotlight faded, they all went back to their lives, their homes, their families. Only Kiro had no one to return to but an empty hotel room.

No… this can’t be it!

Disregarding the cake on the table, Kiro shot up from his seat and grabbed the first coat that he could find in his suitcase. He then jolted out the door and within a few moments, he was running down the barren sidewalk. For the first time, Kiro was thankful for the intense exercises that he was forced to put up with every day. He was sure that he had enough stamina to make it to the stadium without stopping. Luckily, it wasn’t that far from his hotel either.

Kiro had managed to put on his coat on the way here, but as soon as he stepped through the entrance to the stadium, he felt hot again.

A few coworkers had thrown him bewildered gazes.

“Kiro? What are you doing here back here? Didn’t Savin drop you off at the hotel?”

Kiro hadn’t heard the person who spoke to him, instead he continued running as if his life depended on it.

Finally, he made it up to the stage. Face flushed red, he doubled over and tried to catch his breath again.

The radiant lights had been turned off for a long time already, and the audience had been replaced with nothing but empty seats, but this would have to do for now. After all, it was lucky that they hadn’t started dismantling the stage.

When he could finally stand straight again, Kiro took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine the rows of seats filled with people again. The way their cheers stirred ripples in his heart. The way they shouted his name in awe. The way the world was his and his alone when he stood here.

But no matter how long Kiro stood on that bare stage, or how hard he tried to concentrate, that feeling of satisfaction never came.

With a heavy heart and a single sigh, Kiro laid down. When he opened his eyes again, the empty audience stared back at him, as still and eerie as a graveyard. It felt as if the silence was purposefully mocking him—picking at his insecurities, throwing salt into the wound.

He turned away and closed his eyes once again, embracing the familiar darkness.

The answers that once made sense to him dissolved as soon as the crowd left the stadium. Once Kiro decided to dig deeper into the foundation that his morals and pride were built upon, he realized that it was as stable as sand and as firm as glass—shattered and scattered about with the first gust of wind.

Suddenly, there was no purpose for his existence again. No one was there to tuck him into bed and kiss his forehead and wish him a happy birthday. He was falling asleep completely alone. He was back to daydreaming about being up on stage. And after his life ended… once again, the only ones who were left to mourn him were the water, the feathers, and the gloomy night sky.

How would he be able to face his younger self and tell him that nothing had changed from then? That the moments of torture and disappearances and disarray and heartache equated to nothing?

That the thing that he spent his entire life chasing turned out not to be what he had craved?

Everyone loved Kiro, but no one loved subject 1562.

Just a few minutes ago, Kiro would not have been able to explain the heavy loneliness that seized up his heart from time to time. It just didn’t make sense to him how the whole world could love him, yet he still felt so alone. But now he knew the reason. Perhaps it was because everyone loved only half of him. The radiant half. The one that glowed like the sun. But light cannot exist without darkness. So who would love 1562? The shy, quiet boy that had been abandoned far too many times. The one that didn’t glow quite as bright, but was just as important. No one will ever truly love him because no one will truly understand him or the things that he’s been through. The people who loved him only loved him temporarily and superficially. Even his agent—the one that had been with him all these years, through thick and thin, didn’t really know him. No one knew him except…

Except for his mentor and the girl. The only two people who were able to love and accept him just the way he was. With all of his imperfections and all of his flaws. But Master Key had been missing for years now. And the girl… he hadn’t seen her since the orphanage. He wasn’t even sure that she was still alive, much less her whereabouts.

No one could truly love him but those two people.

And if he couldn’t find them? What would happen to him then? Would he spend all of his birthdays alone?

No…

Like a singular star in the expansive galaxy, Kiro felt entirely isolated and so difficult to reach. If only a brave astronaut could travel the distance and pick him out from the vast skies.

Was it too much to ask for? Was he being too selfish?

Kiro’s hands balled into tight fists as he whispered a silent prayer into the night.

‘I don’t have a cake or a candle to light… but please… the one who makes birthday wishes come true… please let me find them…’

***

“Kiro… are you in there? Can I come in?” You called out through the thick wooden door of Kiro’s dressing room.

There were some rustling noises before he called out in a raspy voice, “Come in!”

Without a second thought, you swung open the door, and with the biggest grin you could muster, you exclaimed, “Happy birthday, Ki—”

You paused. Kiro was nowhere in sight.

You looked around the room in confusion when you finally spotted him draped over the brown leather couch, blue eyes wide with shock. As the realization set, you quickly covered your mouth with your hands, as if to take back your sudden proclamation.

“Oh gosh. I am so sorry… were you sleeping?”

“Miss Chips… what are you doing here?”

You gestured around vaguely, “Umm… surprise? I was supposed to wait back for you at the hotel room but I just couldn’t wait to see you.”

Kiro had been away on tour for a whole month already. Your desire to see him could not be contained any longer, so you decided on scrapping your earlier plan of greeting him at his hotel. Instead, you dragged all of your suitcases to the venue he was performing at to see him as soon as you landed.

Kiro blinked. He looked like a lost puppy. It seemed as if many thoughts were running through his mind at this moment.

Finding his behavior cute, you crouched down to him and kissed the top of his head, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted so loudly earlier… You look really tired.”

“I missed you too.”

Kiro took your hand and gently brought it to his lips. Then he intertwined your fingers together as if to make sure that you weren’t going to leave.

Upon seeing your reddened face, Kiro’s lips curved into that familiar charming smile, “You’re so lovely, you know that? You didn’t even leave your suitcases before seeing me. It makes me so happy knowing that you missed me as much as I missed you.”

“Of course, I missed you Kiro! And, it’s almost midnight. I had to wish you a happy birthday,” you suddenly frowned, “don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten about your birthday again.”

“How could I? I’m turning 23 today,” there was a short pause before Kiro began to speak again, “It’s true what they say, yeah? Time really flies, doesn’t it?”

“...You sound like an old man.”

You both burst out into giggles upon that statement. After a moment though, Kiro looked at you with sincerity in his eyes.

“No, but really. Since I’ve met you—my life has just… felt like a dream. And I know it sounds cheesy but… every day we spend together just… seems to speed past. I am so grateful that you’re here with me today.”

A quietness spread over you for a long time, until finally, you met Kiro’s eyes, “Where else would I be?”

“Where else were you every April 9th for the past 22 years?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Whatever. I’m here now. That’s all that matters. Come on, let’s get back. We still have a birthday cake to eat. And—not to brag, but I think I’ve outdone myself with your gift this time.”

“Oh? Well then, I hope I won’t be disappointed.”

You left the room hand-in-hand, laughing and talking about nothing. The domestic atmosphere made Kiro’s heart feel full, as if he was finally satisfied.

Suddenly, Kiro realized that this was the sole purpose of his existence. He didn’t need the massive crowds screaming his name, as long as his name was in your heart alone. There was no need to daydream about anything more because you were already everything he had hoped for. You were the thing he spent his entire life chasing.

You were his loved one. And you were by his side just as Master Key had hoped.

Everything he needed to be happy was already right here.

[oceanlipgloss]

DEADBEAT

GAVIN.

+ no warnings.

Frightful, maybe. Monster? Perhaps.

But how can it be, when he who once was a living legend of terror in her mind became the gentle guardian of her heart?

No, he was once deadbeat, but truly so beautifully human. Warm in the flesh, soft in the heart; as for her, he could rip the world apart and bring down the stars.

+ MASTERLIST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[graffitifactory]

CASTAWAY

It tore the azure quilt hanging over the world. It broke white pieces of down into black ice. Thunder.

Was this jealousy? Was this love? Was this the attraction of youth?

No one could take anything from him. Her included. She was his.

Before the storm, the young man was all smiles as he talked to her, but she was in ultimate work-mode, oblivious.

He smirked. That was good.

Rain. Rain fell.

She was his; everyone else would be a castaway.

+ MASTERLIST

©𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮

[natalievoncatte]

2. Courage

Her breath came in fits and starts as Kara knelt on the floor of her apartment. She told herself it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t permanent, that Mxyzptlk was creating illusions, but it felt real. It felt more real than the wood beneath her palms. She still gasped as if cold hard fingers closed around her throat and another woman’s broken heart bathed her in a murdering light. She was sure that if she looked over at the stand up mirror she’d see sickly green lines slicing through her skin, but when she looked that was nothing.

“Well,” said Mxyzptlk, “that was a close scrape, then. Shall we have another go? Perhaps a bit more carefully worded this time.”

Kara looked up, red sun fury boiling in her eyes.

“Get out.”

“Kara, perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Get out,” Kara snarled, her voice chasing dust from the ceiling thin streamers. “Your gifts are poison. And stay away from Lena, do you hear me?”

He threw up his hands. “Fine then, fine then, I’ll go, but if you ever need me… I still owe you a favor.”

“Out!” Kara raged.

After he vanished, Alex stumbled back into the room, looking at Kara with shock and alarm. She glanced at J’onn, who formed a fight frown and said, “Kara, when you’re ready, if you want to talk, we can talk.”

Kara nodded with a dismissive wave. The door closed a moment later and Kara glanced over to see Alex still standing there.

“Sis?” she asked, her voice small.

Kara swallowed.

“What did he do?”

“He cheated,” Kara snapped. “He twisted things. He said he would help me fix things with Lena but made sure it wouldn’t work. He… it was hell, Alex, he showed me hell. Everyone kept dying. You, my friends, her. Every choice I made set off some… some dick genie bullshit that made all my wishes go wrong. The last one almost got me killed. For real. I was so stupid.”

“What did you ask for?”

“I asked him to make so we never met so she could be happy without me, and instead she died in the helicopter attack and her mother brought her back as Metallo to kill me.”

Alex blinked. “Jesus,” she whispered.

Kara began to shake, hugging herself. As the righteous fury faded, the towering grief swept in to take its place, a freezing wind following the setting of a tyrant sun. She crumpled, falling back into the couch.

Alex was there in an instant, wrapping Kara in a protective hug as she began to sob.

“What did he want to show me? That it wasn’t going to ever work? That we were just doomed from the start?”

Alex tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

“He came to you and said he’d fix your friendship?”

“No, he said he’s grant me one gift, and that’s what I asked for.”

Alex went slack for a brief moment. When Kara turned to look at her, there was an expression of absolute shock on her face.

“You… you didn’t ask for your parents. Or to save Krypton. You asked for Lena.”

“Yeah,” Kara sniffed, “why?”

Alex looked thunderstruck. Kara had seen this expression before, when her sister had grasped something difficult or complex. It was the look of an epiphany, a realization.

“I don’t think he was trying to tell you there was never a chance,” Alex said, softly. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to tell you anything at all. Maybe the only thing that matters is what you took from it.”

“All it took from it is that it’s over,” Kara whimpered. “It’s all over. I never had a chance.”

Alex rubbed her back for a while. She seemed conflicted, opening her mouth to speak several times before closing it again.

“Why Lena? Why does she matter so much to you?”

Kara choked back and swallowed, hard. “She was my best friend before I ruined us. She made me feel like a whole person, and she loved me, she loved Kara in a way that nobody ever has. I felt this peace with her, and she made me so happy and contented when I was with her protected her. I just want another five minutes of that feeling.”

Alex was quiet again.

“You could have had Krypton back, or your parents, or… or Jeremiah… and you picked Lena.”

Kara heard the way her voice hitched and tensed, a cold knife running down her spine.

“Alex I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I was so stupid…”

“No,” Alex smoothed her hair, “no, kiddo. Shhh, it’s okay. I understand.”

There was an unspoken even if you don’t.

“What are you trying to say?”

Alex swallowed hard, tensing.

“I think you need to hear this, Kara, and you might have to hear it from me. Buying CatCo was not a friendly gesture. One does not drop almost a billion dollars to chitchat and gossip with a buddy. Filling your office with flowers was not a simple thank you, and Lena did not take learning about your identity the way a close friend would. At all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do, you just don’t want to see it because of what it means.”

“What?”

“Kara,” said Alex, “one does not burn their one wish on another person’s happiness unless they deeply care about that person. I don’t think I would have made a wish like that for Maggie.”

Kara’s head snapped up, almost dangerously fast. She stared straight ahead, past Alex, an electric fusion of terror and elation smashing together inside her like water on rocks. How could she be so blind?

“You think I’m in love with Lena.”

Alex nodded.

“Don’t think…”

“Office full of flowers,” said Alex.

Kara bolted to her feet, gently disentangling from her sister, and headed for the door.

“Kara?!” Alex demanded. “Please don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Kara paused at the door.

“I already did.”

When she touched down on the balcony, Lena was at her table in her kitchen, staring at a glass of scotch. The change in her heart rate and slight shift in her posture told Kara that she knew she was there.

Kara waited.

Lena rose, swallowed the last of her drink in a dramatic flourish, and stalked to the door. She swept it open and stood on the threshold, leaning against the frame to bar Kara’s way.

“Make it quick, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara began.

“Not this again,” Lena sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen to me, God damn it,” Kara snapped.

Lena’s eyes widened at the profanity, and she didn’t move. She didn’t let Kara in.

She didn’t close the door, either.

“I’m listening.”

Kara swept her hands through her hair. She didn’t know where to start, so she just blurted it out.

“A fifth dimensional imp just gave me a chance to change history any way I wanted. Any way I wanted.”

“And this was the best that you could do?” Lena said, arching her eyebrow. She seemed so sharp and yet so lost and tired, the freighted eyes of a lonely girl hiding within her austere, cold beauty.

Eyes that Kara saw as a mirror of her own.

“All of the things I tried turned into monkey’s paw bullshit,” said Kara. “It was never going to work because getting a do-over was the coward’s way out. I can’t fix this unless I admit what I’ve done.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Lena. “Not the ‘I was only trying to protect you’, speech again.”

“You killed your brother for me and I was too cowardly to tell you my real name,” said Kara.

Lena’s face fell.

“I was too cowardly to tell you the truth. I was too scared that I might lose you. That wasn’t the worst part. I didn’t give you the faith that you put in me. I told myself over and over that you were the most important person in my life, and you know what? You are. I had a chance at anything, and I didn’t pick my birth family or my foster father or my culture or my entire planet. I picked you.”

Lena stared at her, visibly stunned.

“You matter more to me than anyone. If it was you or the chemicals I would have saved you and fuck the reservoir. If it was you or the city it would be you. If it was anyone or anything it would be you. Always you. But I didn’t treat you like that. I treated you like a threat, like spending to be scared of, and I took from you without giving, and I’m sorry.”

Standing up, Lena hugged herself, gaze locked with Kara’s.

“What do you want?”

“I want to fix it.”

“How?”

“We can fix it, together. I know you want to. You have a good heart, full of kindness. I just want to hold it in my palms and shelter and protect it and care for you always. I want it more than I want air to breath. If you want to fix and I want to fix it we can find a way. Not right now, not in five minutes, maybe not for years, but I will do anything to bring you back, and I don’t care what you do, I will never treat you like a villain.”

Lena licked her lips and looked away. Hot tears glittered on her cheeks as she pressed her eyelids shut and Kara ached with the pain of her revelation.

“If you don’t want to fix things with me, it’s okay. Just don’t do what you’re planning to do. Don’t hurt anyone, even with good intentions. Don’t let yourself become something you’re not because I didn’t have the courage to help you be all that you are.”

“Get off my balcony,” Lena choked out. “Go. Now, get away!”

Kara stumbled back as if struck, the force of those words crashing into her chest like a hammer, and she didn’t breath as she took off, careful to ascend slowly until she gained enough height.

Then she went hypersonic, her speed dragging out her shriek of rage and anguish behind her, Kara outrunning it even as she couldn’t outrun the fury and grief choking her chest. She flew and flew, past the clouds, flew as the air thinned, blasted into the very embrace of space until the air was gone and no one would ever hear her scream again.

She could hold her breath, she thought. Hold it for hours until she passed out and by the time her orbit decayed she’d be gone and her empty shell could tumble somewhere into the ocean and be forgotten.

A tiny voice whispered, you must live, Kara, so that we are not forgotten.

Kara let herself fall. She tumbled through the air, burning a crimson wake as she made reentry, slowing somewhere over the Pacific.

There was no hurry to get home. When she descended from her roof and walked down the stairs to her loft, she stumbled. There was not one heartbeat in her home, but two.

In a daze, she stumbled through the door and froze. Lena was sitting across from Alex, and for a wonder, Alex wasn’t trying to arrest or shoot her. They both had a beer in front of them and looked to be in mid conversation when Kara walked in.

On the table between them was Myriad. It looked so small, so inconsequential, this ultimate weapon built by her people to enslave their subjects.

Alex rose swiftly. “I’m going to get going. You two clearly have a lot to discuss.” She turned to Lena. “Hurt my sister like that again and next time I’ll fire the orbital fusion cannon at you.”

Lena glared, but said nothing.

Kara slowly pulled out a chair and sat down. Tentatively , she reached across and placed her hand on it, to pull it in. She froze as Lena’s hand settled on hers, fingers curling around Kara’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, too,” Lena offered, in a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry, Kara. I want to try, too.”

For the first time that night, Kara smiled.

It was not an easy or quick thing. A monument is not built in a day and things that last a lifetime are not easily forged. It took months, then years, for the trust to be rebuilt, its foundations made of bricks like lunches and sister night invitations, quiet shared meals and tentative questions that had already been answered, but in the end a wall rose, taller and stronger than ever before. Not a barrier that stood between them but a fortress that encircled and endured, made of stolen kisses and frantic nights and a pair of matching bracelets.

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 13

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2651

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Arthur called immediately after you hung up the phone with Tina and Chantelle and asked you to meet him at City Central Station at noon.

“I have to go out to Long Island,” he said, a heavy undercurrent of apology in his voice. “And I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to come with me.” 

“Sounds perfect,” you’d replied instantly.

Arthur laughed, surprised. “I, uh…well, I know it’s not very romantic. But it’s kind of an emergency and-”

“I’m there,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur said. He sounded tense, flustered. You wished you were in the same room with him so you could put his arms around him and calm him down. Comfort him with your body. Among other things. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured you. “I’m not hurt or anything. I can explain everything to you on the train. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, Arthur,” you stopped him. “I’m happy just to spend time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”

You heard Arthur pause, releasing a relieved-sounding sigh on the other end, his tone softening. “I…I couldn't stop thinking about you last night,” he confessed. “I think I even dreamed about you.”

“Really?” you felt an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. Only Arthur Fleck could make you smile like a complete loon. 

“Sorry. Is that weird for me to tell you that?”

“No!” you blurted. “In fact, I dreamed about you!” 

Arthur laughed. “You did? Last night?”

“Uh…not last night, exactly.” You felt your cheeks heating up and felt glad Arthur couldn't see you blush. “Earlier. Like…maybe after the first time I saw you?”

“That’s sweet, Y/N. Was it a nice dream?”

“It was…very nice.” 

If only Arthur knew the true carnal nature of that first dream. You’d get around to telling him someday…hopefully sooner rather than later. 

And now, one hour later, here you were: one hour standing on the train platform waiting for him. 

You glanced around Gotham City Central Station at all the bustling people - still rushing, still hustling, still rat-racing on a Saturday morning. They were like hamsters on one big gigantic wheel in a cage called Gotham, and although you knew you were one of them, having a day off gave you a refreshed perspective: Exactly who was winning this race? Why did normal people have to work themselves into the ground just to scrape by? 

It seemed the winners of this race had already been called a long time ago. 

Among the noise, traffic and images vying for your attention all at the same time, you locked eyes with a poster of Thomas Wayne. You shook your head. He was on television all the time these days. People seemed to think Wayne could “fix” Gotham and wanted him to run for mayor. 

To put it bluntly: you thought those people were delusional. 

There was no denying Gotham was a broken place. But was the wealthy mogul Thomas Wayne really the one to fix it? How could he know what the people of this God-forsaken city needed to get back on their feet? How could someone born and raised with an endless supply of silver spoons in his mouth possibly relate to living on the fringes of society?

The crowd parted and Arthur appeared, holding a newspaper under his arm. He spotted you and smiled. You ran up to him and leapt into his arms. Arthur caught you, spun you, then dipped you over and kissed you. The two of you were living in your own musical fantasy in the middle of a dirty, overcrowded train station.

“I’m so sorry that this is our second date,”Arthur said as he lowered you to the ground. “I wanted to plan something more romantic…a walk in the park, or maybe a trip to the-”

“Arthur,” you stopped him. “Anytime we’re together is romantic. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here.” 

He smiled shyly and gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.

The graze of his lips against you triggered a slew of wants. You wanted to kiss him again. Properly. In fact, you wanted to do a lot of things to him. The memory of the soft pull of Arthur’s lips against yours the night before had stirred within you like a fever since then - but you were worried that if you started, you wouldn't be able to stop. And there were too many people around. You’d have to behave yourself. At least for the time being. 

“So where exactly on Long Island are we headed?” you asked. “And what’s this mystery mission you couldn’t tell me about on the phone?”

Arthur drew in a heavy breath. “It’s…look, I don’t want to sound crazy. I’m not sure if I believe it myself, but last night…”

He was interrupted by your train pulling loudly into the station. 

“That’s the one we want,” he jerked his head towards it.

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed. “I just remembered, I didn’t buy a ticket!”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. “I got yours.” 

After finding two empty seats together, you placed your hand on Arthur’s and listened. Listened as he told you everything: How his mother had been writing letters to Thomas Wayne (funny how you’d just been thinking about him…though to be fair, his smug face was plastered all over the city). How he hadn’t paid his mother’s compulsive letter-writing much mind. She was set in her ways and tended to overfocus on things that were of little to no consequence. And finally: how last night after coming home from your date, an unexpected burst of curiosity had cajoled him into reading one of her letters…

…in which his mother had disclosed something totally unexpected. Something shocking.

“Thomas Wayne?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. 

Arthur nodded.

“Your…father?”

You blinked. This was so out of left field, it had gone past left field and back to right again. You struggled to pick a reaction; there were so many coursing through your mind and heart. You could only imagine how Arthur was feeling. 

“How did your mother even know him?” you asked, agog.

“She used to work for the Waynes. As their housekeeper. Just before I was born.”

You shook your head in stunned disbelief. “I have to say, I don’t know what to think. Do you believe her, Arthur?” 

Arthur was silent for a moment, and you gave him space to find the words.

“At first I didn't, really. She hasn’t always been…the best at telling the truth. She thinks things are real that aren’t. I wonder sometimes if I get that from her.” 

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap and began leafing through the pages.

“But now, when I look at pictures of him - and his pictures are everywhere - I can’t help but see a resemblance. Maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know.” 

Arthur landed on a picture of Wayne and his wife, gazing admiringly up at him as he waved to a crowd. He tore out the photo and creased back the edges so you both could see it more clearly. 

“Do you think I look like him, Y/N?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t know…” You scoured the famous man’s face. The curve of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows. 

Like a bolt of lightning, it struck you.  

“Shit, Arthur. I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but…now I do kind of see a resemblance!” 

“I know,” Arthur said. “Now that I see it, I can’t stop seeing it.”

You peered in closer. 

“But why wouldn’t she say anything until now?” you leaned back in your seat. “Why wait all these years?” 

“She said she signed some papers promising she would keep it a secret. It was to protect me as their child, some big scandal coming out. But she said they loved each other. They just couldn’t be together.” 

“Jesus,” you sat back in your seat. Through the window, the entire world seemed to blur as the train lurched away from the city. “What a fucking rollercoaster.” 

“I have to go see him,” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “Talk to him face to face.”

“Of course,” you agreed. “Go to his house and confront him. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this. ” 

You’d been to Wayne Manor only once before: a field trip in the second grade at Burnley Elementary School. Over a decade later, all you recalled about the visit were the Waynes’ dobermans that barked at you and your classmates the entire time. Like you were intruders even though the Manor was a historical landmark with paid tours.

The Waynes were a piece of work. 

“Come on,” you took Arthur’s hand as you exited the train station. There were no cabs around like in the Gotham, and the walk from the train station to Wayne Manor would take at least half an hour on foot. 

Long Island was worlds apart from the city. Away from the endless, screeching roar of Gotham, you could actually hear yourself think. 

You and Arthur made your way down the tree-lined roads. It was autumn and the leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall to the ground. You liked how Arthur made a point to always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, creating a buffer between yourself and the street. Maybe his mother was crazy, but there was no denying she had raised a gentleman. 

Arthur seemed to relish holding your hand, the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath your feet. 

“So what was that dream you had about me?” you asked playfully, giving his hand a light squeeze. You looked over to see his cheeks flush. His shy smile swept you off your feet.  

“Oh,” Arthur gave a small laugh. “I dreamed you were onstage with me.” 

“Doing your comedy act?” you giggled. “Like a singing, dancing comedic duo?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I mean yes. Kind of. We were singing and dancing together. I was in my red suit and you were…”

He paused. You shot him a quizzical look.

“I was what?” you prodded. 

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What was I, naked or something?” 

“No,” he shook his head. His face was even cuter (if such a thing was possible) when it was all embarrassed and flushed.

“You were wearing your Snow White costume.”

Not the answer you’d expected. You let out a laugh. 

“I guess that makes sense,” you conceded. “Given you’ve seen me in it at the children’s hospital.”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur confessed as you walked along. “It’s because…well, I didn’t tell you this at the time because I thought it would be weird. But Snow White was the first movie I ever saw in the movie theater.” 

“That’s not so strange,” you replied. “It’s a classic, after all.”

“Well…she was also my first love. Snow White, I mean. I saw her up there on the screen and I fell in love with her.”

Now you were blushing. And as stupid as it was, you also felt a pang of jealousy course through you. Yes, you were jealous of a cartoon princess Arthur’d been infatuated with as a child. It was beyond ridiculous, but the truth was: hearing Arthur loved anyone besides you made your heart pound with envy. You just hoped he still didn’t have a thing for her. 

“You know…” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “I hope this isn't weird of me to say, but…I'm honestly surprised you would ever be interested in someone like me.” 

You stopped in your tracks. Was he trying to give you the brush off? Tell you he was still in love with a childhood celluloid dream? Your heart was jumping up and down, side to side. You couldn’t imagine going on without him in your life. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked, measured tone and breath, trying specifically not to sound as psycho as you really felt.

Arthur shrugged. “I’m…older than you, I live with my mother. I have no money. And you…”

You wanted to protest everything he was saying, but reminded yourself to wait patiently for him to complete the thought. 

“...you’re a college student.”

“I was a college student,” you corrected him.

“You deserve to live in a beautiful place like this,” Arthur said, gesturing at the verdant surroundings. “Someone who can give you that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted. You could feel another episode coming on and as much as you trusted Arthur, you really didn’t want to lose it in front of him again. You especially didn’t want to lose it because he was dumping you. And on Long Island, no less. Crazy behavior was normal in Gotham, but here they’d have you arrested for so much as a shriek here.

“No!” he shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I just…don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from a better life. You know I have all these problems…”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t breaking up with you. He was just concerned, thoughtful, putting your needs ahead of his. 

It only made your feelings deepen for him even more. 

“Does it bother you?” Arthur asked. “That I’m older than you?”

“No,” you replied. “Does it bother you? Have you ever been with someone younger?” 

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one loose, bringing it to his mouth as he fished around his other pocket for a lighter. 

“I haven’t really dated at all,” he said with an embarrassed wince. “I’m not someone most people would…ever be interested in.” 

“That’s not true,” you said, still reeling from the shock that this beautiful, sweet, tender man had never dated. Though to be fair, knowing he’d loved anyone else would have triggered more jealousy. At the same time, you couldn’t wrap your head around how no one could see how amazing he was. 

“I’ve never dated, either, Arthur,” you pointed out. 

“But that makes sense. You're a lot younger than I am.”

You grinned slightly. “Have you been doing the math? How much?”

Arthur inhaled the first drag of his cigarette, and it billowed out into the clean Long Island air. 

“You told me what year you graduated last night. If I’d stayed in school, I would have graduated in 1964. Which means I'm fifteen years older than you. It took me a second to do the math. That was never my strong subject. None of them were.” 

You shook your head, then suddenly found yourself laughing. “Actually…”

Arthur looked up at you with big, worried eyes. “Yes?”

“I like that you’re older than me,” you confessed.   

“You do?”

“Is that weird?” Now you felt a little embarrassed. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were a freak, but you were just being honest. “I don't like guys my age.”

“You didn't meet anyone you liked at school? I'd think lots of guys would be interested in you.”  

“‘Interested’ is a relative term,” you scoffed bitterly. “The guys at Gotham U are…let's just say a lot of them are book smart. And come from rich families. But they act like fucking animals.”

Arthur frowned. “Animals? How do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I'll tell you about it some other time.”

Arthur nodded respectfully.

“The truth is, Arthur,” you continued. “I never liked anybody that way…until I met you.”

Arthur smiled at the ground as you plodded along in sync, then silently took your hand.

“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “When we’re together, it just…feels right.” 

“I know,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “So many things in my life haven’t felt right…haven't been right. But this does. And if it feels right, nothing else matters.” 

💕💕 If you enjoy my writing and find it valuable, please consider leaving a tip to support my work. Thank you! @ghastella xx 💕💕

💗 Tag List (dm me to be added): @fallon779 @mama-ferret-art @cherryboss713 @lolwey @jokeringcutio @luckypurins @fruitcupsworld @skaravile @filmsandlovers

💗Master List

[pinkeos]

MDNI.

mr reca brainrot. kinda a give and take relationship. rushed and amab reader/afab mr reca!!

To say your rise to stardom was a coincidence because you had a pretty face with some acting skills and happened to be scouted by Mr Reca would be true. Only partially, though.

But of course the public didn't have to know that that was merely a part of your success. And that you'd fuck the shit out of your beloved director to make sure you got some good roles for his films, or he'd refer you to other directors as well.

However, Mr Reca just doesn't give you roles because you sleep with him, he knows you have some talent and skill in you. You've always had a good tongue, both when it came to delivering your scripts and at licking at his clit until it's all puffy and swollen from the attention.

You're a good actor, he knows that well enough after you acted so angry at him and pounded him so roughly that it managed to convince him you actually were mad. He knows you're good at improv, too. What with the way you whispered such dirty filth in his ears while the tip of your cock kissed his cervix.

You're so good with your acting that he actually believes it for a split second whenever you kiss his tears away so sweetly and whisper how much you love him. At the end of the day, however, he knows you're just sticking to a script to ensure your place amongst the hall of renowned performers.

He knows that. He knows you take advantage of one another. But he'll be damned if he let this little play end.

[marshmallomoon]

Sunshine (Mr. Plankton)

“Why do you still wear that”?

“Huh”

“Why do you still wear that thing on your finger mija”?

“Mamá can we not do this right now I still have to go to work” I asked letting out a tired sign she clicked her tongue in protest but didn’t make a move to saying anything more making do a little happy dance in my head.

“When’s papá getting home” “he should be here in a few minutes” “alright mamà tell him I said I love you” I said kissing her on her cheek before rushing out the door.

It’s 7:00 am now which means the bus should be coming in ten minutes I thought to myself as I rushed to the bus stop and just as predicted 7:10 on the dot the bus pulls up.

Once I’m finally situated on the bus I can finally relax for the next 30 minutes until I get to the hospital but as I sit on the bus I started wondering about what my mother said earlier about me wearing my ring. Truth be told I should’ve been taken it off and locked it somewhere never to be seen again but I feel like it’s the last thing I have of him it’s the one thing still tying us together despite the fact it’s been two long years since I’ve seen him.

7:40 we should be approaching the hospital right about now and just as I thought that I felt the bus jerk to a stop once I was off I speed walked my way in to the hospital doors knowing I have 20 minutes to get to the nurses stations so that night shift can be left off.

“Okay so Mr.kim still needs to monitored closely last night we tried giving him some water but he immediately threw that up” Jennie the night shift explained to me “okay I’ll give some ginger ale I’ll see how he does with that” I exclaimed while looking over the notes she took since last night.

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense I was making it up as a wrote)

“I don’t know how you do it” Yuri another nurse aka my best friend said as she hurriedly made sure to get to her seat before the head nurse saw that she was late. “What don’t you get, the fact that I’m on time for work even though I live further than you do” I said with slight smirk o my face causing Yuri to hit my arm quite hard turning my smirk into a glare while I rubbed my arm.

“That and the fact that your so bright and sunny in the morning it honestly makes me want to punch you” Yuri told me with a pout on her face “wow” was all I could as I looked at her “I don’t have to start my rounds yet but would you feel better if I got you and iced americano” just as soon as those words left my mouth Yuri pout turned into a smile so big it could rival the sun making me narrow my eyes at her because not to long did she want to punch me for being happy in the morning “yes please” Yuri grinned at me as I rolled my eyes at her playfully before getting up and making my way down towards the cafe.

As I made my way to the computer to order two ice coffee’s I realized I left my wallet in my locker making me release a frustrated breath at the fact that I had to go all the way back upstairs.

“Oh back already” Yuri said popping out of nowhere scaring me but as she scanned my figure she frowned once she saw I didn’t have anything in my hands “hey-” “relax I’m going to get my wallet from the locker you brat” i spoke as I walked passed her leaving Yuri to grumble under her breath.

Finally retrieving my card I make my way back downstairs to head to the cafe again from the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a male that almost seemed to look li- no I shook my head at myself for even thinking of that idea I must be more tired than I thought I really didn’t get any sleep last night lately for some reason I’ve been feeling really anxious out of nowhere like somethings coming but I just didn’t know what

And oh how right I was.

(Alright I’m going to end it here and I just want to make a few things clear y/n will be half Korean and half Mexican you’ll learn a little bit more about her parents in the story and absolutely will there not be any spice lately me personally that’s all I see and it can get annoying so I decided for myself to make stories without them)

[peteypiessuperfamily]

Big big fan of SI employees being intimidated by Tony at first because wtf iron man is my boss but then a couple months into the job they see Tony in the same room as Steve and realize he's just a science nerd with a big dorky crush on Captain America there's nothing to fear he's just like us fr

[bettystonewell]

SNICKERDOODLES & SPECIAL SAUCE

Part 1 - Do We Really Have to Keep Her?

Story Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader,

Summary: ‘Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours… or …Mrs Butters isn’t just messing with Dean’s underwear drawer. She’s messing with your love lives, too. 18+ only

Word Count: 4K words

Tags/Warnings: crack, friends to lovers, love potion, language, dubious consent, pining, eggnog, Mrs Butters is a terrible wingman, SMUT in parts 2&3—————————————————————Part 2 || Part 3

Part 1: Do We Really Have to Keep Her?

The scene was right outta your childhood. Strings of giant baubles pre-lit flew before your eyes; spinning and winding around the balustrades and the lush green branches of the fir tree sitting atop the war room table. Mrs Butters had whipped it out of thin air without a visible wand or spell book, and you were afraid to ask.

Five finger discounts weren’t uncommon in the bunker, but she didn’t seem the stealing kind.

Had the whiskers on her chin been longer and she dressed all in blue, she’d make a mean Merlin or Merriweather. She was just missing her sister Flora. Or did that title fall on you?

“Close your mouth, dear,” she said as her hands flattened the collar of her blouse. “You’ll catch flies that way. Not a man.”

Not a… What? She’d been throwing shade at you all day, but that? That took the cake.

Who said you needed one for starters? You surrounded yourself with four on the daily and they were less than desired. An angel, a literal child, and two hunters, arrogant and crude. Yuck, yuck, and double yuck.

Sam could keep his toxic gas, and Dean, refusing to change his underthings until he’d worn them inside and out, twice? Yeah. No thanks. 

You opened your mouth wider to argue, making her words come true. Only she cut you off with the same tsk she’d given Dean earlier when questioning his third beer.

“Oh, I know your type.” She hooted like an owl and the lights flickered along in time. “You’re the same as young Josie. The first Woman of Letters. Look what happened to her.” 

“Abbadon possessed and killed her,” you said. 

“Yet you have a tattoo for that.” 

Her eyes narrowed, and she tsked again, but before you could offer another retort, she clicked her heels and strode away. Shame it wasn’t three times. This was your home and her picking you to pieces in it wasn’t happening. No way, no how. 

So, you chased after her and her stupid apron into the kitchen, a few steps behind. She was fast for an old lady, but you were faster. 

“Look lady!” You grabbed her by the arm and she turned to face you. Those eyes of hers could shoot laser beams if she wanted. Cut your insides open, head to toe. Anyone would think you’d stolen her fake Christmas. Screw your Tuesday afternoon in June.

“Mrs Butters will do, dear,” she said in her sweetest voice. The smile that accompanied it prickled the hairs on the back of your neck. “Why don’t you help me with the snickerdoodles?” 

Wait. What? No. You didn’t want to help her with her cookies. You didn’t want her here at all. 

You looked her in her beady eyes and opened your mouth wide to speak, only to find a spatula in your left hand, and an eggbeater in your right. 

What the—

“Language!” she chirped.

That evening, Dean’s face lit up, matching all that glittered as he and Sam descended the spiral staircase. The spring in his step like a child’s on an actual Christmas morning. 

The baubles. The tinsel. The lights. No wonder Mrs Butters had kept you busy baking and decorating all afternoon. More flourishes had been added since you’d last seen it, and there were presents, too. Gifts wrapped in ribbons and glossy wrapping that belonged in a department store window, never in your life, now sat below the lowest branches of the tree. 

The large square one with the teal and white trimmings had your name on it. Literally. Written in silver cursive on a blue background, you could just make out from where you stood, a good three feet behind her. 

That is until the guys hit the ground and you took a step towards Dean, who was first. Headed straight for Mrs Butters and the silver tray of Christmas treats in her hands, of course. 

He took one and shoved it into his mouth, biting off Santa’s face with no qualms. No questions asked, either. Give that man sugar and a crumbly base to eat it off of and you’ve won his heart over, tenfold. 

You cocked your brow, but he just grinned through full, rosy cheeks, and said, “This is great, Mrs B.” with a crumbly finish.

Sam rolled his eyes, and you agreed. Was it great?

“Don’t chew with your mouthful, dear.” She patted him on the back. “And it’s not me you should be thanking.”

She winked at you, and all eyes turned.

“You made these?” Dean asked, looking you up and down just as she had earlier. 

Did you? Your sugar coated hands smoothed over your thighs, catching on the skirt of your apron. She’d made them. You just mixed up the icing and placed dollop after dollop of red, white, green and black on their golden tops. But did you tell him that? No. Were you given the chance to? Also, no.

“She made them from scratch.” Mrs Butters beamed before you could, snapping her fingers and walking away with a clickety-clack. 

The woman was a whirlwind. The tray of cookies, magical just like her to the point you weren’t sure any of you should be eating them, even if you had helped mix the ingredients. They’d appeared on the table in a space amongst the presents that wasn’t there two seconds before. 

Though why were you surprised? 

Dean still wasn’t. Least not at the apparating snickerdoodles. “You really made these?” he said, shoving Santa’s jolly belly and legs into his mouth all at once. 

You folded your arms across your chest. It may’ve been untrue, but he didn’t have to doubt you. “Is it so hard to believe I baked?” you asked with a narrowing glare.

“Maybe in college.” He chuckled, leaving you flustered and him a larger hole for the cookie crumbs to crumble onto his chin.

“It was one time!” And he’d never let it go. 

Cue Dean’s purple nightdress and Sam ripping his eyes from their sockets. 

Packed lunches.

Smoothies on tap for Jack. 

Clean sheets and clean clothes for everyone. Only some of your bras and panties had gone MIA. Replaced with stockings, a dressing gown and a petticoat that would never fit under your jeans and sweats, let alone the one skirt you wore on the job. 

Of course, you knew who to thank. She’d rearranged the kitchen. And if you’d been insulted before? Well, it didn’t matter, because you did nothing, choosing to stew in your bitterness. She considered the room your domain and you a housewife, yet she’d charged in and changed it on you. 

You couldn’t win.

The fresh fruit was a nice touch, sure. It sat on the counter along with all the other makings of your Christmas dinner, including ham, turkey, and pork. That stuff had you salivating. 

The apples she had you stewing, though? Not so much.

“Perfect!” Mrs Butters said, not noticing the glitter that’d fallen into the pot from the tinsel hanging above the burners. Nope. She clapped her hands with the tips of her fingers in excitement, rather. “The boys will be most surprised. Samuel was very excited when I told him about my special apple and cranberry sauce.”

You bet he was, and you gave her your best fake smile. Sam was particular about what he ate, and the sugar levels in this stuff were more than he’d eaten in the past year. He’d get a surprise all right. She would too if she let Dean sample all the dairy centric dishes she’d made.

“Now, turn the heat to a simmer, dear,” she said, and in the next breath yelled, “Jack!” 

Could she not slow down just a teensy bit? 

Before you could even crank the gas, she was hightailing it to the kitchen table where he sat eating his sandwich. No matter, he didn’t want it. She’d insisted you make it for him, anyway.

It was hard enough to keep up with her quips and off-the-cuff insults, but Jack was innocent, vulnerable, and she wasn’t upsetting him anymore than she already had under your watch. So you threw in the towel, the one you’d had resting on your shoulder, and you strode over to him, too.

“Can we fix you anything else?” she chirped at him. We, meaning you.

“Ah, no, thanks.” You shared a look. His shoulders hunched over as he put the wholemeal, de-crusted PB and J back on his plate. “I wasn’t—”

“Oh, pish posh.” She double tsked. “You’re a growing boy. Perhaps another smoothie if the sandwich isn’t hitting the spot?” 

She’d phrased it as a question, but it wasn’t. Nope. Another glass of the creamy concoction she’d forced upon him all day appeared from nowhere. The woman could magic up food and trees without lifting a finger, yet she was hovering over you as she cast instructions on how to make everything by hand. 

Why you were even agreeing to this was beyond you. Yes, you had your ulterior motives. Monitor the witch and protect Jack because Cas was indisposed, and the guys were chasing monsters at the new fandangle radar’s whim. But being her bitch? You needed a break from that.

“Wanna watch something?” you asked Jack, tugging on your apron by the longest piece to untie it. Only, it was rather tight, as was Mrs Butters gripping your shoulder.

“We have to finish our sauce first, dear,” she said.

Of course you did. Which led you back to the burners, and Jack to the remodelled Dean cave without you to watch Home Alone ‘cause it was neither bloody nor magical. There was enough of the latter going round, and apples needed to be tended to.

“Why can’t you just whip this up like everything else?” you said as you stirred the apples, once, twice and thrice as instructed.

“Well, I can’t do all the work, can I? Now. Back the other way,” she said, and you did that, too.

“But how’re—”

“Three times, dear,” she insisted, hovering closer to your side. 

That was… rather precise, sounding more like a spell than a recipe, and you stopped for a moment, reconsidering the repercussions if you continued. 

“Is this—”

“A buh-buh-buh.” She widened her beady eyes. “We’re making this with love. It has to be done correctly.”

“Love?” Yeah, you weren’t touching the stuff when it was done. You’d added every single ingredient that had gone into it so far, but you were still unaware of where it’d all come from besides thin air. 

Where was everything before it popped into sight? It didn’t even make a sound when it did, and, oh god, what if love was a code for something more sinister… or bodily? Could you catch herpes with a special sauce? Wasn’t there a saying about pulling things from asses?

Heh. Dean would appreciate that, and your lips splayed into a smile at the thought of him and his stupid grin. 

“Is there something funny about love?” Mrs Butters asked, and you swallowed. 

If only she knew. “No.” You flicked your head and cleared your throat for good measure, turning just in time to see a metal sieve pop into her hand.

“Where—”

“Apples, dear.” She nodded to the large pot.

Right… Of course.

You set to work, doing as she’d asked. Only she continued to stare, never blinking. Watching every movement of your hand, up and down, left to right, as you scooped the apples out.

“How did you come to be in the bunker?” Her much kinder voice caught you off guard, and… wait. No insult?

No tsks or mentions you were doing it wrong? And how come she got to ask the questions?

“I, ah… Dean invited me to move in a couple of years ago.” You flicked your eyes her way, hoping the bare minimum would satisfy her, and let you get back to concentrating on the apples. 

“That was nice of him,” she said, and you could only agree. It was.

“Do you enjoy living here?”

“It beats stingy motels.” You shrugged.

“Oh. I’m sure it does, but you’re living in such tight quarters.” She waved her hand, and the pot doubled before your eyes. “It’s bound to cause issues between a woman and two men.”

And there it was. The impending insult. 

So that was her problem. You living alone with Sam and Dean? With all the modern technology around, she must’ve realised things had changed since the fifties, and “We’re just friends,” you said. Both brothers were always kind to you, and unlike everything else that moved, Dean had never tried getting into your pants, so things weren’t awkward. There was mutual respect. The odd banter. Comradery.

“With urges.”

If you had a drink, you’d have spat it out. As it was, you dropped your ladle into the pot, only to find the handle, clean and back in your fingers before you had the chance to retort. Yeah, that was more like it. Her moving stuff. 

Urges, though? Is this where all the glances were coming from? The comments about Josie? She didn’t want some floozy perverting her boys? 

“Are you dating anyone?” she asked next, and bingo.

You were right on the money. 

Bitch. You weren’t a floozy.

“Look. I’m not dating Sam or Dean, so you don’t have to worry, alright?” 

“Oh, I know you’re not seeing Samuel.” She chuckled. “He has Eileen.”

Wait. “He does?” She’d been here all of one day. How the hell did she know that when you didn’t? Had she been looking into more than just your dirty laundry? 

Fuck. 

Dean’s magazines. The shoe box in your closet.

You swallowed and flicked your head down to her level, expecting more judgement; but finding empathy in the lines that decorated her face instead. 

“Tell me more about you and Dean,” she said. “I imagine you saw him too this morning?” 

You and Dean.

You and Dean?

What was that supposed to mean, ‘cause the way she’d said it implied the two of you together, and that was far from the truth. It couldn’t happen. He considered you family, and, “Family doesn’t end with blood,” he’d said, which made you sister Winchester. 

Well… not quite. No habit. A tattoo. Josie was far closer to one of them before she became, you know, and Chuck dang it. This shit was messing with your head.

Nuns. Winchesters. You and Dean. Didn’t help that you had caught a gander at what was below his nightgown that morning. 

Yeah… Families don’t seek that out. 

They also don’t think about it after the fact, but ever since Mrs Butters’ little chat in the kitchen, that’s where your mind was going. Every. Time. You. Saw. Him. 

You were more perverted than he was, and carrying the homemade special sauce you’d made to the dinner table that night wasn’t helping.

You stepped up the small step into the library with as much care as you could muster, not wanting to trip in front of the guys. Read, not trying to trip in front of Dean. Screw the pretty gravy boat you carried that Mrs Butters must’ve whipped out of her ass, too.

“This is Mrs Butters’ special sauce,” you said to Sam with a grin, who swiped his tongue over the inside of his cheek.

Dean, as you’d hoped, was more appreciative of the opening you’d thrown at him. You’d chosen your words after all, knowing he’d make something of it and he didn’t disappoint. 

He stood up from his seat to inspect the genie’s lamp-like piece as you placed it in the centre of the first table next to the gravy and giant ham. His hand, finding your shoulder as he did with an electrifying touch. 

“Dunno what you were hoping for, Sammy, but be glad it ain’t white.”

“Not funny.” Sam shuffled in his seat. 

You couldn’t help the snort at his scowl. Your gut couldn’t help the flip at the contact of Dean’s firm grip on your shoulder, either. He was so close, you could smell the gas station aftershave on his clothes over the array of food, and you held your breath.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

You’d admit it was creepy, but Mrs Butters took the whole Christmas cake.

“Oh! Oh! Dears!” she shrieked in glee as she shuffled up to the small step herself to join you. Jack trailing along behind with a stack of plates. “Look.” She clapped her hands, darting her beady eyes upwards. Giving you all no choice but to do the same out of curiosity.

Dear god. “What’s that?” you asked, though your gut flipped again at the inkling. Like the sieve and the gravy boat, the bunch of pale green leaves were new, and it could only mean one thing. 

Sam’s body shuddering in a fit of laughter further confirmed it.

That was not there before, and Mrs Butters sure looked pleased with herself. 

Course she’d made it. Who wouldn’t be proud? Her heels clipped the wooden floorboards as she bounced on the spot. Hands, no longer clapping but balled into fists as she shook them in the air.

“Well. Go ahead! I see a lady standing under the mistletoe, Dean.”

And what was a kiss amongst friends? Siblings? You’d let Dean peck you on the cheek if that would get her off your case, and you turned it to him and poked it with your finger. “C’mon Deano. This sweet skin ain’t gonna kiss itself.”

Thank Chuck he found it funny, too. 

“Right,” he said, and even wagged his brows as he swooped in, letting in all that glittered into those brilliant greens of his. 

It was soft and quick and a terrible idea. Made worse when you patted him on his own shoulder and commended him for his effort. “Not bad.” You fanned yourself for added effect. “No wonder all the girls all fawn over you, huh?” 

Could you shut up now? That was cruel to him and you, but it would seem poking bears had become your speciality. Only this time, this one bit you back.

He huffed. Shook his head with his own tsk of his tongue, and then brought it and his pouty lips down to yours with no time to react.

Whisky. Sugar. Tingles in all the wrong places. Your foot might’ve popped like a scene in a cheesy movie if it weren’t for the chairs in the road. It was soft and quick and a terrible idea on his part, because while he was very much pleased with himself, you couldn’t look at him straight after that.

Dean.

Dean, Dean. 

His name was easy on your tongue, and he on your eyes. 

Through dinner, desert, cleaning up, and Die Hard, they feasted upon his form when he wasn’t looking. 

Yes, you perverted son of a bitch. You couldn’t even do it like you knew he would. Which meant he wasn’t interested, and you could live with that. 

But could Mrs B?

She was meddlesome, and maddening, and she’d tucked your sheets in way too tight to the point they were keeping you awake. Yes. It was her and them alright, and not your hang-up on Dean.

No. Thanks to her, your toes made little mountains that stretched the fabric over your needed-to-know basis legs. The little hairs moving underneath prickled your skin much like a certain someone’s scruff had brushed over your chin and cheek earlier. 

The freckles on his nose. Remnants of his cheap aftershave in yours. Hell, stepping out of your room would give you a real good whiff of the smoke and spice with your door only three down the hall from his. 

But would that make you feel better? God no, but you abso-fucking-lutely gave into the urge and exerted yourself outta bed. You needed a cold drink to cool your jets and soothe your fuzzy insides, anyway. A stiff one, even better, and you stormed out into the hall in search of it all.

Anything to clear your head.

Only every turn you took towards the kitchen found newer Christmas decorations that weren’t there when you’d bid everyone goodnight before. Tinsel here. Glitter there. Mistletoe everywhere, and your brain turned plant hunter and gatherer, decking the halls with forceful fists of fury. 

No more kisses could happen, no matter how innocent Mrs Butters made them appear. Apparitions would remain food related, and when you and your burden made it to the kitchen’s trash can, you wanted to jump in, too.

“Everything okay, dear?” Mrs Butters said with a grin that rivaled Dean’s. The exact one he had on his face, sitting across from her.

Fuck.

His disheveled hair, fresh and damp from a shower. His tight-fitting Henley rolled at the sleeves… Water. You needed that water for your throat yesterday.

“Can’t sleep either, sweetheart?” he asked. 

Sweetheart. What a delectable sound. 

“I, ah… no.” You waltzed over to the cupboard that held the glasses, opening it up, only to find none there. If you were a glass, where would she have put you? 

“Where are the—” 

A tall tumbler full of water popped onto the shelf before your eyes.

Right…

“Would you like some eggnog?” Mrs Butters beamed, but before you could respond, a second glass, full of the stuff, apparated, too, and you stood there stunned.

“Thanks,” you whispered. Mind and soul depleted of all life, and needing the protein. 

You picked them both up with a touch of caution and made your way to the table, soon finding yourself having to choose between the lesser of two evils. Sit next to him or her?

“You’re not wearing the housecoat I left out for you,” sealed the deal.

Dean was safer, and taking the seat on the stool next to him, had you sweeping over your chest as you settled. 

You were braless, but your top was thick enough to cover your nips at least. “Didn’t fit,” you said, slurping a mouthful of eggnog straight after to keep the rest of your thoughts at bay. 

The stuff was potent. The aftertaste choked you on its path down. 

“What’s in this?” you asked at the end of your splutter, as Dean’s palm made contact between your shoulder blades this time. Honestly, it’s what you needed, the kick, not his heavy hand on your back, but Mrs Butters’ continual beaming had you at unease. 

“It’s a secret.” She winked before standing up with yet another clap of her hands. “I’ll leave you two to finish your drinks. Don’t stay up too late. We’ll open the remaining presents in the morning.” 

And with that, the whirlwind that was the old wood nymph was out the door, leaving you alone with the man you weren’t supposed to be thinking about. 

“Isn’t she awesome?” he said.

“Sure makes things interesting.” You took another gulp of your eggnog. It was easier on the throat the second time around, and if it kept your mouth occupied, and your eyes away from Dean’s, you’d drink it all. 

But he hummed, and you drew to it like a moth to a flame. That deep rumble. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he spoke. 

“You still think she’s out to get you or something?”

Did you? Though unspoken, she had remarks on your wardrobe and the fact that you weren’t the pin up for a 1950s housewife right outta Stepford. She’d pulled the mistletoe stunt, and brought on this strange fascination with Dean, but she’d done nothing harmful per se. Just… weird.

So what was it? What couldn’t you put your finger on besides the glass of eggnog?

“You know how you’re always going with your gut?” you said, braving a glance his way. 

He nodded.

“I just can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else going on besides the special sauce.”

Part 2 || Part 3 —————————————————————Thank you so much for reading!

Up next in Part 2 - 07/02

Having had enough of his antics, Sam pushed it aside and marched in. He scanned the room the second he had, finding Dean and his purple nightgown with ease.

It was hard not to miss.

As was his one-eyed-snake, reddened and sticking out from under it.

“Dude.” He… He… “Would you put that thing away?”

Thank Chuck, Dean listened to that instruction. It was bad enough seeing it before in the kitchen, not hard. This was… This was… “What the hell do you want me for?” And what was he supposed to tell Eileen?

“It’s stuck.”

It… “What do you mean it’s stuck? Just beat it out and go to sleep.” —————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn

If you'd like to be tagged, please Imk.

[niranutcake]

🚪There should not be a man in your closet🚪

A fanart of @screams-in-writing 's first chapter of their wonderful fic "Performance Enhancing Coffee" on AO3 :)

[yourssinfullyquiche]

Night

Hello, all you beautiful people🥰 Another installment in the 4 part Gavin (s.e.x) series. Yes, I was supposed to do Afternoon and Evening first but I'm still writing Afternoon and Evening has yet to be written. So...let's just skip to Night, shall we?

This is an NSFW work, and it's also a little angsty. I had to. I was desperate for angst TW: Unprotected sex, and...nothing else. I'm so bad at this

I come out of the bathroom, fresh as a dewdrop and see Gavin against the headboard of the bed, clothed in his tee and shorts, reading papers with his glasses on. It’s never used often, those glasses. Kept in a black zipped case, it remains on the bedside table ready for use when he wants to. Rather, when he has a splitting headache after reading too much too closely. Though, there are times when he adorns those golden spectacles for the surprised glint in my eyes that leads to heat spreading to my cheeks which results in me tugging my bottom lip with my teeth. 

I have an inkling of why it’s there today because the second I emerge from my shower, his eyes meet mine immediately in a gaze that tells me he’s not OK. It’s the kind where his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Behind that gaze is the lethargy of his recent mission that ended after a month, a sadness of which he has experienced that he’s yet to tell me. He looks like he’s about to cry driven by fear of loss. Ringed with dark circles, the reports he ought to be reading are abandoned with an unfocused mind. 

I stride towards Gavin, with a resolve of eliminating the feelings which feed into that look. He puts the papers aside and the spectacles on it, arms at his side to welcome my presence on his body. I don’t even bother changing into my pyjamas, only removing my bathrobe and tossing it onto the chair, knowing that his clothes would be strewn all over the floor. Clad only in my delicates, my legs straddle his hips. He cups my behind and pushes me up, securing me comfortably above him, levelled to his face. My hair falls encasing us in a curtain of floral vanilla scent—a secret reprieve, only the two of us share.

Our hands fiddle with our clothes—mine are gone in no time, my fingers move on to his shorts, pull it down in one go and throw it haphazardly. He’s bare and chuckling when he looks at me. “Don’t worry, the other half of my body won’t dare run away.” 

The delivery of that line should have me laughing but his voice is as empty as a hollow tree, something he tries to mask with cheekiness but fails. Though it twinges within, I don’t point it out. Instead I reciprocate with the intended cadence and smack his chest lightly, “I’ll be sure to use that line when you tear my clothes in shreds.”

He purposely averts his eyes all innocently with a satisfied smile on his face. The back of my fingers absentmindedly runs over his cheek as he tucks the spilling locks of my hair to one side. “What’s on your mind?” I ask. 

There, it’s that look again. That look in his eyes tells me he’s so afraid. He breathes heavily and pulls me closer into his warm embrace, protectively cradling the back of my head. I wait for his shaky breaths to dwindle and answer though I know it won’t come as easily. I look back at him to see his eyes glisten wistfully and then he says, “I’m so happy that you’re here with me.”

My face twists first into confusion and then understanding. I don’t pry further because that one line tells me everything I need to know. A smile forms on my face as I cup his cheeks. “There’s no place I will be than in your arms, my love.” 

The smile he gives me is loving and grateful as he brings me into his embrace once more. There’s a small lump forming in my throat, but I swallow it. There will be no tears for now, not when he needs my strength—and it comes full force as my fingers ghost over the deep lines on his body

All sizes with pains that ache my heart. I dance over the fresh gash across his sternum like they’re hot coals burning my fingers. Yes, it burns. It burns my entire being, makes my blood boil that he has to put himself through countless horrors—yes it is not deep, but the marking remains sufficiently angry to leave a scar crossing both his pecs. 

My thoughts halt when he looks at me with a pensive gaze. I remind myself that anger is not what I need now as well. I’ll not let him have the chance to comfort me, not when he’s clearly in need of some love. So, before he utters anything, I kiss lips, one he gladly sinks into. Desperate and breathless it becomes and it makes me float, taking away my mind that would eventually travel down the path of bitter horrifying stories it conjures. 

I caress his cheek with the back of my knuckles. Kiss all over his face. He chuckles as I flutter my eyelashes across his skin. I look into his eyes, tired but always exuding gentle love that sends a rush of warmth through my body. 

No words leave my lips, it only moves to join his again. Our kisses are unhurried and languid, a sweet dance. We save exploring each other’s bodies for another day, for today we yearn only for the warmth such nakedness provides. I raise and sink slowly down his cock. The chorus of sounds leave our lips at the pleasure of fullness we both feel, feeling so close to one another, the warmth that one can only feel when they’re skin to skin. 

One of his hands stays resting on my bottom and the other sneaks up to hold my nape, mine finds its way to the soft strands of his hair, and they stay put for anchor. I feel him engorged and pulsing in me. The burn of my core, the stickiness my legs feel and the incredible need to rise and slam hard into his body. I ignore all the impulse, instead we rock our bodies to a slow rhythm. Moving together and savouring the deliberate thrusts. 

Gavin’s lips caress my neck until they land at the corner of mine. “You feel so good,” he whispers against my lips, choking my sighs once more in a reverent kiss. Tonight, I let my lips take away his grief, my body take away his pain. Perhaps after, words will be shared once more, dead in the twilight wrapped around in sheets heated by the warmth of our bodies. 

The waves of pleasure crests within us yet we never hasten. I feel the usual jolt in my tummy, one look at him tells me we’re both about to fall over the cliff. “Together,” I tell him and he’s about to pull away when I stop him, clamping down. “I want it inside.” He stills, eyes wide as he stares at me for a few seconds. The question is clear. Are you sure? 

Softly he asks to confirm his thoughts, “Is that what you want or are you doing this because you think I want it?” 

I yearn, and perhaps I am doing this for him. But I don’t care. I know he’s the man I want to spend all my nights with wrapped in our sheets, the only one whose golden eyes I ache to meet when I wake. Somehow I know he needs that as well. To be so close to one another until the air we breathe diminishes. 

“I want it…,” breathlessly it dispels from my lips. 

I look at him and his eyes are glassy and dark to a deep shade of bourbon as he kisses my forehead. 

“Then come with me,” says Gavin.

We’re in one tight embrace as our bodies rock once more—a little faster, and within a few seconds we come undone in a gentle rush. I have no plans to move, to feel the emptiness that will instantly wash over—he doesn’t either when his hands stay tight around me. I feel the warmth of the duvet around my skin as we kiss goodnight and say I love yous before we drift to a slumber. 

-

A/N: Thank you for reading❤️ Updates will be quite slow since I'm working now. I had this piece in the drafts as I wrote it immediately after Morning. I waited so long only because I wanted to post it by order but the Afternoon piece is taking longer than expected. It's really out of my comfort zone, so writing it has been a slow process. To those of you reading, I appreciate your patience~

Credits to @cafekitsune for the lovely dividers😚

© YOURSSINFULLYQUICHE2023 — no part of this writing shall be plagiarised, translated or reposted in any way. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Taglist: @playheej@purple-cat-demon@rinharu-purple (if you want to join my taglist, please visit my blog and click the link available on my pinned post)

[charcharliee]

PLEASE COME HOM MYE KING I NEED TYOU SO MABDPY *drools intensely* MRROWWWW MORREOWWWW MRIRWWWWWW MWWOOEEEEEWW MEEOOWWWWW MY WIFE 😖😖 my beautifully green skittle 💚 pls my 1x1x1x1 king...

Ngggghhyhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doodles of me and 1x1x1x1 kissing drops tomorrow 🤣🙏

[oceanlipgloss]

CHAMPAGNE WINDS

GAVIN.

+ no warnings.

The wind tasted of champagne.

Calm was his demeanor, but whenever she melted the distance between them, passion devoured his heart; its ardent flames took scorching bites out of excited flesh, and thin tongues of blaze ran softly against dancing arteries and pulsing veins.

There was fruity rain within; he was drunk on love, drunk on desire, the sweetest champagne.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[graffitifactory]

IDIOT NATION

The world was an idiot nation.

So many stupid people, so many brainless monsters.

He didn't bother dealing with as many of them as he wanted. He would never, really. No one could make him. It was meaningless stuff. A waste of time. A killer of energy otherwise better spent.

He has better things to do, like letting wild melodies drift out of his long fingers and into one of his many glossy basses, making color flow from his fingertips onto spray cans and street walls, and being with one silly girl he allows to know him more than anyone else.

+ MASTERLIST

©𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮

[fangirl-k8ee-ladyknight]

Can we talk about how Roy was 100% the person who came up with and choreographed the good bye dance for Beard and Ted in the final episode?

And the reason they lose their shit so hard when the coaches praise them for it is because they all got up and practiced the choreography at four am for a week to keep Ted and Beard in the dark about it and they’re all exhausted 😴