#mr love fanfiction

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[i90o3]

played homicipher with the full dictionary ..loving that mr crawling said you looked pretty in a wedding dress

[harmonyrae]

The Doctor's Wife

Synopsis: When you agreed to an arranged marriage to your childhood friend you never imagined it’d be like this. You knew what was expected of you, locking away your wild spirit to be a proper wife. The little boy you knew has grown into a handsome doctor, still as quiet and frigid as you remember. You’re both so different, how will this marriage ever work?

AN: I tried my best to be historically accurate - my Google history is crazy. I now have 10 pages of notes dude... Some modern terms are used for a smoother reading experience. Images from Pinterest.

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), slightly suggestive, SO MUCH TENSION, angst & fluff & humor, religious elements (vows), Zayne is Mr. Darcy coded and I am unwell

Word Count: 6.5k

“I cannot believe you are going through with this… You were supposed to be more troublesome than I was! And here you are, avoiding the miserable experience all-together.”

Sera unwraps another curl and twirls it. She stares at you through the mirror of your dressing table, her glare speaking volumes. You wince as she tugs another wrap out, freeing the curl. You pick at your fingernails and sigh.

“Seems Mama learned from your mistakes - ow!”

Sera pulls another wrap out, harsher than she needs. You turn around to face her, forcing her to stop torturing your poor scalp. Your bedroom door opens and Cora and Theo enter. Theo sets down a cup of tea in front of you before shooing Sera away. She starts to gently unwrap your curls while Sera sits on your bed with Cora.

“But agreeing to an arranged marriage? Winnie…”

“We all know I wasn’t going to find a match without Mama’s intervention. You’re right Sera, I am more troublesome. This is easier and… and I want… this.”

Cora nudges Sera and she crosses her arms, agreeing to let the matter rest. When Cora meets your eye her smile wavers. She straightens her back and takes a deep breath.

“Has Mama… spoken to you?”

You squint at her, your brain foggy after the many conversations your mother has had with you lately. From the proposal of the arrangement, the fitting of your wedding dress, confirmation of the special license, she notices your confusion and continues.

“About… what… ahem… about marital duties?”

You laugh so hard you bump the leg of your dressing table, nearly spilling your tea. Your sisters simply stare at you, all wearing serious expressions. When you realize they want an answer you clear your throat and fold your hands.

“You are referring to intercourse?”

“Winnie!” All of your sisters shout in unison.

You burst into another fit of giggles, prompting Sera and Cora to stand and huddle around you. You look around at them and grin. You missed this, saying something to rile them up. It’s who you are, not at all sensible and rather wild - as your mother would say. 

“Winifred, how do you know about… that?”

Cora inches closer and whispers, you know she is worried you’ve been indecent. You’re starting to wonder if the truth may be worse. 

“I read a book.”

“What kind of book?! And where did you get it?” 

Sera doesn’t bother whispering and Cora slaps her shoulder. Theo finishes unwrapping your curls and begins pinning them back, she leans forward, just as eager to know. 

“Zayne could read his fathers books, I did not see a reason why I could not. So I stole one. Brought it home to read, forgot about it and found it a few years ago. I’ve read it quite a few times now. It’s all rather fascinating.”

Your neighbor being a doctor was extremely helpful, especially with Ellie being sick so often when she was young. Zayne always accompanied his father on his visits and quickly became your friend. He was a quiet child with his nose in a book while you ran wild, catching frogs and building dirt castles. But when you’d spend afternoons at his home, he would suggest the library. Zayne would read out-loud and you found yourself mesmerized by the content. You regularly requested the medical books and he was happy to comply. Your insatiable curiosity pushed you to steal one of them to read for yourself.

You point to the loose floorboard at the end of your bed and Sera spins, diving down to fish out the book. She holds it up and her brow furrows. 

“It… It’s about childbirth?”

You nod and chuckle as she opens it, flipping through the pages with a grimace. 

“Apparently, one cannot properly explain the intricacies of childbirth without explaining how the child came to be in the first place. Our bodies are fascinating, no?”

“Does your future husband know you stole one of his fathers books?” Cora teased.

When your mother told you Zayne’s parents were arranging his marriage and were requesting you - you were stunned, but not against it. You cried when he went away to university. Then argued when he came home just to leave for medical school a few weeks later. And you spent weeks in bed anxious he would never return from the battlefield where he served as a surgeon. He is one of your dearest friends, his company agreeable, his livelihood secure, you didn’t see a reason to decline.

“Well, his father never asked for it back when they moved last autumn. So I assume not.” 

“Explain to me once more how Zayne gained his title?” Theo asks.

“The Earl of Akso died without an heir and he had no living male relatives. The Queen had to grant the title, and the estate, to someone and she chose Zayne.”

“Why Zayne?” Sera exclaims, earning her harsh stares from both Cora and Theo.

“He was a sawbone.” 

“A what?” All of your sisters shout in unison, once again.

“A surgeon in the army. Apparently, he was the most trusted when it came to amputations. He never lost a patient who needed one. His superiors recommended him to the Queen. He was granted the new title and the land as a reward of sorts for his service.”

“So he is an Earl and a surgeon. He would have had every young lady in the Ton vying for his attention. Why would he want an arranged marriage?” Theo asks.

Cora urges Sera and Theo to step back. She extends a hand to help you up and leads you to stand in front of your mirror. She retrieves your dress and comes up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Have you seen him since he returned?” 

You look down and adjust your stay, pulling the strings tighter. Cora sighs and taps your arms, you raise them and she slips the dress over your head. Cora smoothes out the ivory silk, fluffing the ruffles around the collar while you straighten the lace sleeves that fan over your fingers. She turns you around and swats your hands away so she can button the front.

“Can we return to the topic of how this book prepares you for this evening?”

Sera holds the book up and smirks. You feel your cheeks flush.

“I know what is expected of me. It does not serve me to be anxious over it.”

Sera frowns and drops the book to your bed. She walks over to hold your trembling hands. 

“To be anxious is to be human, Winnie. You’re getting married today. You’re going to be a Countess. That is certainly worthy of a bit of anxiety.”

She smiles sweetly and you finally allow your shoulders to slump forward. Cora pulls you into a hug, Sera wrapping her arms around both of you. Soon, you feel Theo at your back. You close your eyes, allowing your sisters to hold you in their safe embrace. The creaking of your door makes you jump and you look up to see your mother watching you all. Her eyes fill with tears and she rushes forward to join. You chuckle as she lets out a muffled sob. 

“My sweet girls.”

The hug does not last long, Ms Jennings arrives to announce the carriage is ready and your mother pulls you towards the door. You glance over your shoulder to look around your bedroom. 

“Mama, please make sure my books are stored properly before they are sent. And my dressing table, I still want it, even if there is one for me at the estate, I want this one. And –”

“My dear, Ms Jennings already made arrangements with Ms Lucas at Akso manor. We must get to the church, come now!”

Sera grabs your mothers arm and leads her out of the room. Cora and Theo follow closely behind, allowing you a moment to yourself. A moment to say goodbye to your childhood. Whatever your future as the Countess of Akso may hold, you doubt your wild spirit will be welcomed. As you close your bedroom door you feel as if you’re locking a part of yourself away.

The ride to the church wasn’t long, but due to Cora’s condition you had to make several… stops. When you arrive, Rafayel is pacing outside of the church. Cora giggles as she tries to calm him, making the rest of you giggle in return.

“I was certain the carriage's wheel snapped or a wild animal attacked! What happened?!”

“Darling, you know I’ve been getting sick more frequently, especially in the morning.”

“Did you drink the ginger tea? Your mother said she would make you a cup before you departed! Why did you not drink it?!”

“Rafayel! I did drink the tea! I… I still…”

Cora’s smile fades as her breathing turns heavy. She rushes around the side of the church with Rafayel right behind her. 

“She is carrying more than one child, I’m sure of it. She was not nearly as ill when carrying Leonardo. Poor girl can barely eat.”

Your mother has been speculating ever since Cora and Rafayel told her. Sylus and Caleb stand just inside the church doors waiting for their wives. Caleb quickly circles around Theo, his hand placing hers on his arm. Just like Rafayel and Sylus, when Caleb found out Theo was with child she was suddenly made of glass. Caleb leans close and whispers in Theo’s ear. 

“Did you know Winnie’s betrothed was a military surgeon? Nearly fainted when he walked in. That’s the doctor!”

Theo gasps and tries to peek through the doors.

“The doctor who saved your arm? I must remember to thank him!”

Your mother places a hand on your back and you pause. Sylus and Sera walk into the chapel hand in hand, followed by Caleb and Theo. Rafayel and Cora shuffle into the corridor and your mother pats Cora’s damp forehead with a handkerchief before they stroll down the aisle to their seats. You straighten your collar over and over until your mother grabs your hands.

“I’m so proud of you darling.”

You force a smile. You weren’t particularly nervous about the marriage, but the thought of standing in front of a crowd made your stomach drop. You clutch her hand and she leads you through the door.

You let your mother lead you, focusing on each step and keeping your breathing steady. However, all of your willpower disappeared as soon as you looked up at the altar. The little boy you knew was long gone, in his place stood a tall gentleman with a frigid expression. While he may look intimidating, you were not easily frightened. Especially when he looked so incredibly handsome. His dark hair was the same, longer and more fringe across his forehead. Dark eyebrows framed brilliant green eyes, his mouth set in a barely there smile. His pressed black suit clung to his trim frame, his shoulders rolled back to keep his chest held high. He met your eyes only once while you walked and swiftly looked away. When you arrived at the altar you were sinking your nails into your mothers hand. 

“Winifred… please.” Your mother whispered. 

You loosened your grip, but remained frozen in place. The priest, Father Hartford, nods and steps forward, looking between you and Zayne before addressing the audience.

“We are gathered together here today, before God and this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony. This union, an example of the promise betwixt Christ and his Church, its purpose honourable amongst all men. These vows are not to be taken lightly, or to satisfy men’s carnal lusts; but taken reverently, soberly; considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained. If any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else forever hold his peace.”

You look over your shoulder at the small audience, Zayne’s family sit quietly and yours follow suit. Your mother digs her elbow into your side and you face forward to see Father Hartford staring at you. You flash a smile and lower your head.

“I shall now ask both of you, if either of you know any reason, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, confess it now.”

You quickly look up to see Zayne eyeing you. He returns his gaze to the floor. Father Hartford continues.

“Zayne, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Zayne says quietly.

“Winifred, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

Hearing the word “obey” makes you shudder, but you grit your teeth and swallow your pride.

“I will.”

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

Father Hartford steps forward and your mother passes your hands to him, he guides you forward to stand in front of Zayne. He releases you and motions for Zayne to step up. Zayne reaches out and takes your right hand. You shiver as his skin touches yours. Father Hartford begins to quote the vows and Zayne repeats them. 

“I, Zayne, take thee Winifred, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”

Father Hartford turns to face you, quoting the vows again. Keeping your eyes locked on Zayne’s hand, you repeat them slowly.

“I, Winifred, take thee Zayne, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”

Father Hartford then turns to pick up a small case, opened to reveal a ring. The thin silver band holds a stunning sapphire with two pearls on either side. You gasp and glance around to give apologetic looks to those around you. Zayne’s timid smile brightens as he picks up the ring and carefully removes the glove from your left hand. His voice shakes as he quotes his final vow to you, sliding the ring on your finger. 

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

He holds your hand and turns, both of you kneel before Father Hartford who begins his lengthy prayer. Of course he has to thank every saint, today of all days. He finally looks down and motions for you both to stand. 

“As Zayne and Winifred, have consented together in holy wedlock, witnessed before God and this congregation. I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The rest of the ceremony is a blur, Father Hartford sings one final hymn to bless your future children and everyone signs the register as they file out of the chapel. You barely realize you haven’t let go of Zayne’s hand once since receiving your ring. You keep waiting for him to let go, but he doesn’t. You exit the church and walk past your families, Zayne helps you into his carriage. He sits across from you, finally releasing your hand. The door closes and the carriage pulls away, headed back to your family home for the Wedding Breakfast. 

Your eyes stay focused on the ring on your finger, gently stroking it through your glove. Zayne clears his throat and you jump. When you look up, you see him watching you. 

“You look… lovely today.”

It feels like the words were painful to say, but you nod and thank him for the compliment. The rest of the ride is quiet. Zayne stares at a small notebook he pulled from his breast pocket and you watch the winding streets pass by. Arriving at your home - well, your previous home - Zayne helps you out once again and you hold his arm while you walk inside. He isn’t pushing you away, but his indifference is confusing. You’re not sure if he’s happy or irritated. 

The liveliness of the Wedding Breakfast doesn’t help ease your nerves. Your mother and Zayne’s mother engage in, what you like to call, a polite argument over a “motherly duties.” Sera joins in and, in her kindest tone, tells Zayne’s mother that a woman can do anything she pleases. Cora decides not to comment, since the argument started over her performance with Rafayel in Verona. She sips her ginger tea by the window and watches Rafayel and Sylus play with their children. 

“Sylus, Sephie has her feeding soon, don’t tease her with cake!” 

Sylus puts the cake down and gives his daughter an apologetic look. She starts to tear up so Rafayel tickles her to stop the waterworks. Persephone bursts out into a fit of giggles which causes Leonardo to throw his hands up in excitement, tossing cake crumbles all over the floor. 

The past year has been overwhelming with two babies squealing and babbling. Between Theo getting married and both of your sisters having babies early in the summer you didn’t have much time to yourself. You had completely forgotten your debut was coming up. Your mother seemed to be equally overwhelmed, it was clear she wanted to marry you off quickly and quietly if possible. A notion you welcomed, no balls or promenading? Perfect. 

Sera takes Persephone away for a feeding. Sylus offers to hold Leonardo for Rafayel, who curls up behind Cora to massage her shoulders. Caleb and Theo watch Ellie play the piano. Your mother avoids Zayne’s mother by leaving to “check on the kitchen staff.” Zayne’s mother and father collect another slice of cake while telling Zayne about their plans for their new life in Prague. You enjoy your people watching time, since sooner than later you’ll be ushered into the carriage with Zayne and taken to his estate. Your mind starts to wander as you twist the ring on your finger.

What if Zayne is disappointed in your… performance? He went to university in a big city, surely he partook in certain… activities…  Isn’t that how men bond while away at school? Will he expect you to bare a child quickly?  What if you cannot have children at all? 

“Winnie?”

Zayne’s soft voice brings you out of your spiral. He extends his hand.

“Are you prepared to leave?”

Taking his hand you stand and are guided to the front door. You hadn’t realized everyone had already gone outside to see you off. Your mother lunges at you, pulling you into a hug. She’s not usually so expressive with her emotions. Your sisters wrangle you into another group hug before you give your niece and nephew a kiss on the forehead. Sylus, Rafayel and Caleb shout their goodbyes. Zayne’s parents wish you well and Zayne helps you into the carriage. And just like that, your old life is left in the dust kicked up by the carriage wheels.

A few quiet minutes later, you convince yourself to start a conversation. Zayne sits on his side of the carriage, scribbling in his notebook. You try to see what he’s writing, but the carriage jostles you around too much to get a good look. You clear your throat, earning you an inquisitive glance.

“Do you recall when I was angry with you for leaving for medical school?”

He hums softly.

“Well, I was not truly angry. I should not have shouted at you as I did. You were traveling abroad to study and I was… possibly…”

“Jealous?”

His accuracy is almost painful, but true. 

“Perhaps. I never had the chance to apologize before you were sent away…”

“There is no need.”

“Well, I was worried… is all… You went away and I wasn’t sure you’d… come back.”

“The medical centers were well protected. I was never in too much danger.”

You scoff loudly. He raises a brow and you cross your arms.

“I heard of a doctor from Madrid who died serving at one of those ‘well protected’ centers. You don’t have to make it seem safer than it was for my sake.”

“You’re right. I also don’t have to talk about it all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but decide against it. Maybe talking about his time as an army surgeon was not a good idea. You tap your foot and search for a new topic. 

“Oh, I saw you quite enjoyed the macarons. Rafayel bribed a baker at a coffeehouse in Verona to give him the recipe. Private box seats every season. Rafayel said it’s completely worth it. Mama’s cook has gotten very good at making them. The first few batches were horrendous! But now, they are almost always served at tea. I can… try to get the recipe… if you like… or–”

“Thank you. That is very kind.”

His short answers leave you questioning your previous relationship with him. It had been so easy to talk to him, not that he offered many words back then, but he was just… different. You decide to just look out the window for the remainder of the ride. It’s not long before you see lights in the distance. You scoot over and pull the drape back to get a better look. 

The huge three-story manor was more like a palace than a house. Set at the center of a large plot of land with a dense treeline at the edge of the meadow. A large garden, a barn, a stable, the buildings kept popping up. From the carriage you see the crisp white window panes against dark brick, thick ivy covering walls and corners of windows. 

“Is all of this… how much… where…?”

You can’t form a sentence, the fact this is your new home completely baffles you.

“Several acres past the treeline. I’ve been told there’s a lake and separate servant housing, but have yet to see it for myself. The entire west wing is at your disposal. Speak with Ms Lucas in regards to any furniture you may need. A bedroom has been made up for you, she will show you where it is once we arrive.”

His words slowly sink in and your chest tightens. How could you discuss these things with your sisters without hesitation, but now you can barely breath? 

“Are we not… we won’t be…”

“I do not expect anything from you Winnie. I will be quite busy as my father is leaving for Prague tomorrow, so I will be the only physician in the city. You may live as you please, I will not interfere. I only ask that you inform me of any events you wish to attend or host. Ms Lucas will show you where my study is, that is where I will be most often if you have need of me.”

“Zayne, we are married…”

“Yes, and I see no reason for that to interfere with our lives.”

The carriage comes to a stop in front of the manor. An older woman approaches and waits for the coachman to open the door. Zayne hops out and offers you his hand. You don’t bother to take it, he’s sending you to a separate WING of the house? 

The woman steps forward and Zayne gestures to her.

“This is Ms Lucas. Ms Lucas, this is Winifred.”

“Please, call me Winnie.”

She curtsies - that will take some getting used to. Zayne straightens his jacket and starts to walk for the front doors. He calls out over his shoulder before entering the house.

“I shall see you at breakfast.”

And just like that, he is gone, disappeared into his labyrinth of a house. Leaving you alone with Ms Lucas and your questions. 

“What do you mean you haven’t –”

“Sera!”

Cora tosses a biscuit at Sera’s head. She glares at her and Sera grumbles under her breath as she picks up the biscuit to dip in her tea. You set your cup down and cover your face with your hands. Theo instantly leans over and wraps her arm around you.

“Perhaps he is being considerate? It was an arrangement after all, you did not court or even have a moment to speak before your wedding day.” 

Theo offers a reasonable explanation, but it does not settle your discontent. 

“Are you upset he hasn’t fulfilled his marital obligations or that you wish for him to pursue you and he has not yet?”

“Sera, you really must try the strawberry macarons Mr Tribble made this morning! Here!”

Cora shoves a puffy pink macaron into Sera’s mouth. Sera tries to push Cora away and gives a muffled shout as crumbles fall from her mouth. You stare at your hands to hide your flushed cheeks. You and Sera have always been so similar, making it much easier for her to read you. Sera finally tosses etiquette aside to speak with her mouth full.

“I will not hold my tongue any longer! Are we not all married? Do we not care about Winnie’s happiness? She clearly brought it up to ask us for help!”

Before Cora can shove another macaron into Sera’s mouth you reach out and take her hand.

“Sera’s right… I… I don’t trust anyone else. I just… I don’t know what to do…”

“You’ve been married a fortnight, have you not spent time with him?” Theo questions. 

“We have breakfast and dinner together. I spoke with him in the library once and he showed me where he placed his books from university. I inquired about which book I could read and he suggested I start with a book on anatomy.”

“Perhaps he’s impotent!” Sera shouts.

Cora throws her head back and groans while Theo covers her mouth in shock.

“Sera, are you intent on causing me such pain?”

Sera takes Cora’s hand, but doesn’t hide her amusement.

“I have not heard either of you offer a reason for his behavior beyond him being ‘considerate’ - if he’s a man with a pulse he surely has interest. Sylus could barely wait until we were in the carriage before he –”

“I do not wish to know what Sylus did or did not do!” Theo groans.

You find yourself laughing, it’s been so long since your sisters have sat down for tea. Aside from the more intimate topics of discussion, it is like you were children again. Cora clears her throat and shakes her hand out of Sera’s grasp.

“Have you not considered attending a ball? Even if he does not speak to you, he may dance with you? And if not, you have an opportunity to make friends with other married ladies.”

“Why would I do that? I have you all. And I don’t like balls, the dresses are too stiff!”

Cora leans back and rests her hands on her stomach, in just two weeks she has gotten larger and can barely walk. With your fascination and your sister’s current condition, you found more books on childbirth in the library. You discovered birthing twins is rather dangerous. Your attempt to subdue your anxiety was an utter failure.

“My love, Rafayel and I winter in Verona. And once the children are older we may spend more time there.”

“And Sylus’s dukedom is a day and a half away. His responsibilities there mean we do not visit nearly as often. Especially since Sephie was born.” Sera offers.

“Caleb opening the orchard was a brilliant idea, but we were wholly unprepared for how busy the season was. If he is not preparing for the upcoming autumn, he is attending military academies to assist with drills. And this season, we have two garden parties and a gentleman who is determined to host his wedding by the lake.” 

“You’re going to allow another wedding on the property?” Sera exclaims.

“No, ours will be the only wedding the estate hosts. Until our children are grown, of course.”

Theo’s wedding in the orchard was the most talked about wedding of the season. The apple blossoms in full bloom, an onslaught of military men in uniform, the Queen herself in attendance. You sigh, relieved no one else will have the privilege to such an experience, Theo deserved it. And you doubt Caleb would let anyone take that away from her. 

“I mean to say…” Cora continues. “We will not always be here. You need friends, Winnie.”

“I thought I married one…”

You sit in silence as your sisters look to each other for who will speak next. Bowing your head, you stir in another teaspoon of sugar and listen to the soft clink of the spoon against your cup.

“You mentioned… he hasn’t walked the grounds yet?” 

You look at Sera, her usual lighthearted demeanor replaced with a look of concern. You nod.

“Confront him, demand he takes you on a walk. Bring a picnic and only ask questions about him. The more you know, the better prepared you will be when you flirt with him.”

Tea spews from your mouth in a mist, Sera chuckles as Theo and Cora dab at your damp dress with their napkins. Cora glares at her while Theo tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile.

“Is that not what you want?”

Sera crosses her arms, you’ve missed her direct approach. Cora leans forward to argue, but you lift your hand and she pauses.

“It is.”

Sera leans back, savoring her victory. Cora and Theo exchange glances, but don’t argue. Sera’s plan was not bad, you only doubt your ability to captivate Zayne long enough to gain his attention. Let alone his affection. 

Two days pass before you finally put the plan in action. Requesting your own cook, Mr Maddston, to learn to bake macarons meant he would have a few failed batches. When he presented you with the perfect cherry macaron, you giggled with excitement. He prepared lunch and packed a basket with a blanket. Now you just need to convince Zayne to join you. 

“He returned home before noon from an appointment. He should be in his study.”

You give Ms Lucas a hug, something she was still getting used to. You are unsure what kind of treatment the previous Countess showed her, but you would break through her rigid exterior sooner or later. You rush down the hallway towards Zayne’s study. You take a breath and knock. When you hear Zayne welcome you in, you quickly open the door, if you wait you might lose your resolve. 

“Oh… hello.”

Zayne looks surprised, you were a few hours too early for dinner. He closes his book and wipes his ink-stained hands on his handkerchief. You enter the room and hold the basket in front of you. Zayne eyes the basket. He’s curious, good.

“You have not yet walked the ground.”

Once again, he looks rather surprised. It is not a question, but a statement. 

“Correct. I have not had the opportunity.”

You step closer so you are directly in front of his desk. He cocks his head and you smile.

“We shall remedy that. I have a picnic and the sun is exceptionally warm today.”

“Winnie… I –”

“I would rather not go alone, so please.”

You watch his expression change from indifference to concern to acceptance. He stands, straightening his jacket. 

“Of course.”

He follows you out of the house and into the garden. He stays by your side as you weave through the gap in the hedges into the open field and towards the dense treeline. Your white linen dress billows in the breeze and the fresh scent of wildflowers washes over you. You stop suddenly and Zayne watches you bend down to touch the ground. Before he can ask, you slip off your shoes and leave them behind, striding across the field barefoot. You look over your shoulder to see him standing next to your shoes, staring. 

“Come on then!”

You wave your arm and beckon him to follow. The ground is soft beneath your feet, the grass and flowers tickling your ankles. Zayne jogs to catch up with you.

“You should not wander through a field without proper shoes, you may hurt yourself.”

You stop once more and turn to look at him. 

“This is the best way to truly walk the grounds. Off!”

You look down at his feet and he stammers.

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“Your shoes. Off!”

He looks at you as though you’ve gone mad. After he realizes you are quite serious, he reluctantly obliges. Leaving his shoes behind, you start to skip towards the treeline. 

Once you’re in the forest, you slow down allowing Zayne to catch up. You walk side-by-side, you’re not sure what you want to ask first or if you should just enjoy the silence. A branch snaps behind you and you squeal, bumping into Zayne. He rests a hand on your shoulder to steady you. When you look back, you watch a young deer hop through the foliage. 

“Oh! Do you think they’re looking for their mother?”

“It’s possible. Or a patch of berries.”

His voice is soft, like when he was young. He was just stating a fact, a thought, nothing special, but this is the Zayne you knew. The Zayne who indulged your whimsy and even encouraged it at times. You’d missed him desperately. 

“Do you still despise hunting?”

You look over to see Zayne nod.

“Then our deer friend is safe here. Good.”

The sun peeks through the dense canopy. Patches of flowers line the path you follow. When you don’t hear Zayne’s footsteps beside you, you turn to see him kneeling to pick a few wildflowers. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as he stands and presents the small bundle of white to you. Taking the bouquet, you pluck one of the flowers out and tuck it behind your ear.

“Thank you.”

He nods and continues walking, leaving you to catch up with him. 

“What was your favorite thing to study? In medical school?”

Zayne looks over his shoulder, he slows down so you can match his pace before answering.

“We learned mostly from watching and then practicing. The simpler the procedure, the better. However, I did enjoy studying more complicated procedures not commonly performed anywhere other than the battlefield.”

“Like what?”

“When I learned how many officers died during amputations, I worked to better the procedure as a whole. Make it safer for the patient and more streamline for the surgeon.”

“I heard you never lost a patient when performing an amputation. That’s rather impressive.”

“Yes… well… the patients may disagree. They’d prefer to return home with all of their limbs.”

“You gave them a second chance at life. What they chose to do with it is their decision. I find it rather impressive how you went from reading your fathers books to saving lives.”

You spot a small smile forming and grip the basket in your hands tightly. Looking away to hide your flushed cheeks, you spot the edge of the lake.

“Ah! The lake! Shall we stop here to eat?”

Zayne nods and helps you spread out the blanket. You sit and pull out the dishes, Mr Maddston has outdone himself. Two pigeon pies, stewed sweetened fruit stowed in glass bottles, pastry biscuits, one large cold plum-pudding, a few slices of bread and cheese, a tin of mixed biscuits, two cherry macarons and a large glass bottle of tea with two cups. Zayne chuckles at the feast set before him. 

“Are those…?”

“Macarons? Yes, cherry. Mr Maddston said he’s going to try baking different flavors. So, expect a new macaron with your daily tea.” 

Zayne smiles, a genuine one that lingers. Your cheeks warm as you watch him gingerly take the macaron and take a bite. His look of sheer bliss fills your heart with pride.

“Enjoying your dessert first, doctor?”

His ears turn the lightest shade of red. You pour him a cup of tea and as his fingers graze yours you hesitate. He catches the cup before you drop it and reaches out to hold your hand fully.

“Are you alright?”

You nod and try to laugh off your flustered appearance. You both fall into a comfortable silence while you eat. You occasionally stop to ask a question about his schooling or his parents. Or even to reminisce about your childhood. Once you both are sufficiently stuffed, you lie back on the blanket.

“Thank you for joining me. I know you’re a very busy man.”

“Thank you for convincing me. Or rather forcing me.”

You scoff and cover your eyes with your arm. 

“Well, I didn’t know how else to spend time with you.”

The silence serves as a brutal reminder that your direct nature is not always appreciated. You sit up and turn to Zayne. He focuses on his hands as they fold his napkin into a tiny square. 

“I apologize, I only meant… I… I’ve…”

“It’s alright. I did not realize you desired my company. I did not wish to… to…”

As you both stumble over your words, you look out to the lake. The sun shimmers across the water, a pair of swans float by and one of them flutters their wings splashing the water onto their mate. They swim around each other and nuzzle their necks together. 

“Swim with me!” 

You jump up, cutting Zayne off and extending your hand. He sighs, unsure if you’re serious. When he doesn’t take your hand, you turn on your heel and take off towards the shore. 

“Winnie!”

As Zayne gets closer, you pick up the pace. Leaping over fallen branches and ducking to avoid low hanging ones. When you finally stop near the water's edge, Zayne nearly collides into you. He breathes hard, the hair on his forehead damp with sweat. You begin to lift the skirt of your dress and feel Zayne grab your arms.

“Winnie, what are you doing?!”

You laugh breathlessly and pull away to continue removing your dress. 

“Zayne, we are married. There is nothing improper about me swimming in my chemise in front of you. However, I must ask…”

You toss your dress over a nearby log and wade into the lake, the cool water soaking the hem of your chemise, making you shiver. Looking over your shoulder, you notice Zayne’s ears are considerably more red. You turn and kick your feet to splash him. He stumbles back and you giggle as he steadies himself. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch his expression become a tad mischievous.

“Are you going to join me?” 🐝❀❄️

(If you DO NOT want to be tagged in ALL REGENCY AU fics, just leave a comment. Keep in mind, each story hints at the futures for each pair sooooo…)

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @moonberry69 @laddelulu30 @mariojins @zhongtar @emneedshelp @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @havenhope-art @lly5duck @freddy-2002-blog

[notapradagurl7]

My Favorite Star.

Black Fem! Reader x Joey Bada$$ as Unique/KadeemPornstar!

Summary: On a regular Friday after work before waiting for one of his latest videos, your neighbor Kadeem brought you a package until you found out that your fine ass neighbor was your favorite porn star, Unique. You decided to spend time with him.

A/N: it’s been a minute since I wrote about Joey, enjoy! don't forget to leave comments, likes and reblogs are welcome to support, drop a request if you like, they're always open!

WC: 4433k.

Warnings: dirty talk, smoking weed, praise, orgasm denial, fingering, use of AAVE, cussing, use of the n-word, rough sex, choking kink, protected sex, consensual for both parties, exhibitionist kink, AU where Unique is in the modern day world, PWP, pet names.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @naj-ay444

@becauseimswagman1 @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @caashmoneynae @siqueth @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest-

@uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn

@secretlifeoofmarpessa @dpennedit

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert

@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @musicisme333 @saturnville @enchantedillumination @mogul93 @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @hotmessexpress94 @fakxmbj @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @mama-2001

______

It was a typical Friday night, the kind where the world outside felt like a distant echo while you nestled into your cozy apartment with a bag of snacks and a comfy pink blanket in your bedroom. The smell of something sweet and lavender wafted in the room.

The flickering light from your TV danced across the four on your brown skin as you scrolled through your favorite adult site, your heart racing with anticipation for the latest video featuring Unique.

Your freshly two-strand twisted locs hung in front of your face, your fingers carefully pulled out the black rubber bands.

The black screen with red trims displayed a white loading icon that was frustrating, while the message read, "New video arriving soon—don’t miss out on UniqueDaDon!”

With a deep sigh, your face contorted in frustration as you rolled your eyes, the weight of impatience settling heavily in you. Your thumb angrily swiped up the screen, dismissing the page with a flick that felt almost like a release.

You shut your phone off and tossed it onto the pillow, the device landing with a soft thud, mirroring your exasperation.

Where was Unique? Your favorite porn star, Friday, Wednesday and Monday nights before 11pm were his usual scheduling time on the adult site. He was never late either, this was new.

A sudden yet alarming knock on your door jolted you back to reality. You glanced at the time—11 PM. Who the hell could it be?

Your heart raced for a different reason now, but as the doorbell chimed, your phone's camera revealed Kadeem's familiar face. You sighed in relief, putting down the gun that had been your recent purchase.

“Y/N, you've got a package! It’s a crockpot, right?” His voice was teasing, laced with that signature charm that made your heart flutter.

Damn it. They accidentally sent your purple crockpot to him. That was the last time you ordered anything online without double-checking the delivery address.

“Uh, yeah! Just, uh, some... new cooking material for my collection!” You called back, trying to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your cheeks gave you away.

You opened the door, your heart racing as you took in his appearance. He wore a black tee, paired with sweatpants. and those dark brown eyes of his sparkled under the orange hallway lights.

Kadeem chuckled, his laughter deep and rich, echoing through the thin walls between your apartments. “Cookin’ material, huh? What’chu cooking tonight?” he teased, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually.

“Maybe some beef stew this time, hopefully it turns out good, not too soft, if not, i'll just order take out,” You replied with a nod.

“I always smell something good from your apartment, I know you're good at what you do,” He said, smiling a bit.

He resided directly opposite you in the upscale, five-story apartment complex located in the suburbs, where both of you occupied units on the first floor. This location suited you due to your job at the nearby library, which provided a tranquil environment.

Kadeem resided in apartment 102 while you were in apartment 101; the building was quiet and uneventful, mostly occupied by residents or college students who minded their own business.

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Uh, thanks for bringing it over,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He leaned against the doorframe, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You know I got you, Y/N. Just doin’ my neighborly duties,” he replied, stepping a little closer. He leaned casually against the doorframe, the air thick with unspoken tension.

“So, what you into these days? Besides, ya know, cookin’?” His gaze dropped to your box, and you felt your heart skip a beat, knowing he couldn't see the website you had been on.

You smirk, trying to deflect. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Binge-watching, and the occasional art pieces of mine.” You shot back, trying to keep it light-hearted, but the heat of the moment was palpable.

You wanted to be done with this conversation quickly before you missed a notification, pursuing your lips. Especially testing out your new crockpot.

“Well, thanks again Kadeem, I'll be sure to let know you if I need to smoke weed,” You quickly said, eyeing him up and down.

“Anytime, Y/N,” Kadeem replied back, as he walked away from the door and toward his apartment door.

“Bye Kadeem,” You sang playfully with a smile, waving back to him before closing the door.

He sold marijuana to nearby residents while working as a full-time adult film actor to cover his expenses, on a reputable black-owned porn site that strictly filtered out unsavory characters, minimized ads.

He exclusively showcased black women or curvy black women in his content. In their mid-twenties and some older, in their early thirties. From this very neighborhood.

His work wasn't much vanilla, nor too many hardcore videos, if there was a fantasy from the woman then Unique would fulfill it. He was always at the top row of the home page, verified with five stars.

After work, you would smoke weed with him since he was your plug, chatting about your day, and you always made a point to pay him. However, Kadeem consistently reminded you that it was free of charge.

Your heart raced as you clicked on the notification, the familiar thrill coursing through you.

“Oh shit, I can’t be late,” you whispered quickly, grabbing your phone with ease.

You ran inside of your bedroom and grabbed your laptop, putting it on the charger, you flipped the light switch and the darkness filled the room.

You snuggled into the blankets of your bed to get comfy, grabbing your earbuds and plugged it in your phone below, the timer on the adult site went to 10 seconds, as the logo of the website flickered on the black ink screen.

“Five…four…three…” You mumbled under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen.

“Now Unique wants to post on time, huh?” You sang lowly but smirked a bit, biting down on your lip.

The intro music softly faded in and out, and suddenly there he was Unique displaying that signature smirk that made your stomach flip. You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks. Good thing this video wasn't recent either.

The video began with Kadeem showed off that signature smirking, lying down at the front of his bed with his hands behind his head, a smirk on his face and while the black woman with the same dark brown complexion as him, crawled toward him with the dim light of the room that felt as intimate as your own.

Your mouth went agape once the video faded out, and you quickly came to a sudden realization, the same man who was your plug, lived across from you was your favorite porn star? How the hell did you not see that?

His hands adorned gripped her throat, momentarily constricting her airflow, eliciting a soft harsh gasp from the woman, passing the condom to him, her hands rested on the headboard as he lifted her and settled down onto his dick. She began riding him with a steady pace.

“Faster, you pretty slut,”

His eyes flickered back to the camera with a playfully glint as if he was looking at you through the screen, letting low groan from the warmth of her walls gripping his dick tightly, “Talk to me, baby. Tell me how good you’re feeling,”

Every moan, grunt, thrust spurred you on, the ache in your stomach made you squirm underneath the blankets, and your tiny whimper left your lips.

“Lord, help me,” you whispered, sinking deeper into the pillow as you tried to ignore the ache building inside you.

You knew you shouldn’t be watching this, especially when you had just seen him a few moments ago, but here you were, it felt all too real. Your breath hitched and panted heavily.

And then he did that one thing you liked, talking to the wrong through her climax.

“There you go, let me have it,”

Once the video was over and swiped up to exit, you quickly ran toward the bathroom and accidentally knocked over your small dresser, the thud noise echoed through the walls. You screamed out loudly.

“Shit, all this fucking time, it was him,” You mumbled to yourself, wondering how you did not see it.

You were still bewildered by the fact that it was really him, and you imagined how it would feel to be in her place, to have those hands on you, to feel that body against yours. That friction with him.

Just then, the doorbell rang again, pulling you from your reverie. You cursed out loud, but curiosity got the better of you. You cleaned up mess, and threw the glass in the trash. “Who the fuck could it be now?”

You quickly paused the video and tossed your phone aside, throwing on a hoodie to cover up as you made your way to the door, your heart racing once again.

“Y/N, you good in there? I heard you scream and a loud thud. You alright?” Kadeem’s voice echoed through the door, concern lacing his tone.

“Yeah, just uh...tripped over something! I’m good!” you called back, trying to sound nonchalant, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed your nerves.

“Alright, just checking on you,” he replied, and you could hear the concern in his voice. “You know I’m just across the hall if you need anything. Like...you know, a good smoke or a good meal.”

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again, but it wasn’t just from embarrassment anymore. It was that undeniable attraction you felt toward him, mixed with the knowledge of what he did for a living, that sent your heart racing.

You stood at the door, then opened it revealing Kadeem there. Still dressed in the same attire, while you exhaled a blissful sigh. “Actually, I don't feel like cooking tonight, I could use a good meal,”

“Dinner is on me, I got you. What do you want to eat?” Kadeem asked in a warm tone, his eyes on you, you felt the heat rush in your cheeks again.

“I'll just take some wings and fries, my drink can be a fruit punch, ranch on the side too by the way,” You added, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Done,” he said, pulling out his phone, scrolling through the DoorDash app, typing in the food, the drinks and the sauce.

“While we wait, can I ask you something Kadeem?” you said softly, your tone a bit nervous yet steady. You walked over to the light purple couch with him, you took a seat on the left side.

He looked up from his plate, his eyes flickered back to you, while he gently plopped onto the couch beside you, “Of course you can, what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated briefly, but the moment felt right. “So, um… this might sound a bit weird, but I’ve been watching a lot of your content online. Like, you know, Unique? Your videos? I’m a fan.”

“You’re a fan of my videos?” he asked in a soft tone like he was surprised a bit. His body shifted toward you and his knees brushed against yours.

“Yeah, you’re good at what you do,”

Kadeem smiled at what you said to him, “I appreciate that, but you know, I could tell you were a fan. Your comments always stood out, they were always so funny, and clever,”

Your heart raced as you processed his words, feeling exposed yet thrilled. “So you’ve been watching me watch you?” you teased, your voice playful despite the heat washing over you.

“Can you blame me? You’re kinda hard to miss. Cute as hell, smart, sexy, funny, beautiful, always with that smile,” he replied, leaning back against the couch, as he flashed that charming grin. “And trust me, I’ve got fantasies of my own about you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Are you serious?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

“Let’s just say, I’ve imagined what it’d be like to have you in many positions,” he said, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine.

Kadeem had a crush on you, and those feelings surpassed into something deeper, but your imagination did run wild.

“I've had a few of the same.” You could hardly believe the words spilling from his mouth, it made your heart race.

“But honestly, I’d rather just have you all to myself, no cameras,” he admitted, his tone shifting to something more intimate.

You tried to speak but the words caught in your throat. You weren’t sure how to respond.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N. Don’t hold back,” he replied, his voice a tempting whisper.

“No cameras. Just us, I want it to be real, you know?” you confirmed, your voice steady with sudden confidence.

Kadeem’s expression softened, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I like the sound of that.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of his question hanging in the air. “So you want me to fuck you Y/N?” he asked you with a smile on his face.

You nodded nervously yet spoke up, “Yes, I do. But fuck me like you hate me yet you can't resist me, spank my ass, gently choke me, praise but without the word good girl, and edging, give me some direction, like that rough edge in your videos,”

“I can definitely do that. But I’ll make sure it’s all about your pleasure too. I want to know what makes you feel good but just say no when you want to stop” he mused, nodding at you.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again, breaking the moment. You shot him an apologetic smile and jumped up, He rushed to the door.

As Kadeem opened it, the delivery driver stood there with the food, the aroma of garlic parmesan wings and fries wafting in, making your stomach growl. You couldn't wait to eat.

“Perfect timing!” you exclaimed, he grabbed the bags from the driver and tipping him generously before closing the door. He hurried back to the couch, where you were already eyeing the spread eagerly.

He placed the bags on the brown polished coffee table, hissed from the heat touching your skin.

“So you like garlic parmesan?” he asked, opening the containers to reveal the steaming wings and crispy fries, each accompanied by little cups of ranch.

“I like what I like, so how have you been?” you replied, your heart still racing from the earlier conversation as you settled back next to him, the food between you both.

“I’ve been good, this is the kind of night I can get behind—good food, good company,” he replied with a smile, picking up a wing and taking a bite, savoring the flavor.

You laughed softly, feeling the playful energy between you both. “And you enjoy my company?” you suggested, dipping a fry in ranch and offering it to him.

“Absolutely,” he replied, leaning in to take the fry from your fingers, his lips brushing against your fingers. The simple action sent a thrill through you, igniting the chemistry that simmered beneath the surface.

After your food was finished, thrown in the trash and both of you washed your washes your hands, you grabbed his hands and led him to your bedroom, nudging the door open to the room that was neat. The walls were painted a soft lilac, a comforting hue.

Thankfully you did some spring cleaning this morning, so the vibrant floral sheets and candles gave the room a cozy feel. The smell of fresh linen and lavender filled the air.

The bed was in the middle of your bedroom, with the dresser in the corner and a small bookshelf beside it overflowing with novels and trinkets collected over the years. The vibe Kadeem got from it was one of warmth and personality.

“Nice place you got here,” he remarked, taking in the surroundings with appreciation. He stood in the middle of the room with his

“Thank you, I try to keep it comfortable and inviting," you replied with a grateful smile. Was this man trying to steal your secrets on interior decorating, or was he just being polite?

You grabbed a condom from the dresser and passed it to him. “Will it fit you?” you asked him, a teasing glint in your eye, though your voice carried a hint of genuine curiosity as well.

"Trust me, it’ll fit," he said with a wink, taking off his shirt while unwrapping the condom and tossing it onto the bed. "Now, you ready for this?"

Your eyes almost sparkled with lust as you nodded, you felt the lust building up inside. His dark brown skin was beautiful, and his chest was toned, each muscle defined under the soft glow of the candles.

“More than ready,” you breathed, your heart racing in rhythm with the pounding of your pulse. You tugged at the edge of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal your breasts.

After taking off your shorts and panties, you wiped your sweaty hands on the towel you had used before tossing it into the hamper. You were so damn nervous but took a few breaths to keep your cool.

You bent over onto the bed and wiggled your ass at Kadeem, he responds by giving it a rough smack, you stifled a moan while he towers over you.

With that, you pushed him gently back onto the bed, the soft mattress cradling you as he hovered over you. His chain dangling in your face and kissed your lips again, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick was thick and hung near his thigh. That was a monster.

“Damn,” you mumbled to yourself, your jaw hung low. You were damn speechless for the first time but you swallowed quickly.

“Like what’chu see beautiful?” Kadeem asked with a grin, flipping the light switch, the darkness filled the room but he turned on the other light switch to dim.

It wasn’t too dark in the room but just enough light to see both of you, he kneeled onto the bed and hovered over you again.

You almost covered your face until he grabbed them, your cheeks heating again like a blushing bride getting ready for her wedding day, “Don't hide that pretty face from me,” he added.

He stepped closer, his hands framing your face as he leaned in to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You melted into him, the soft pressure of his mouth against yours made you moan.

Your legs spread open for him, his eyes on your pussy then flickered back to you, his fingers gently fingered your pussy, you gasped softly, “Shit, no teasing, Kadeem please…” you whimpered biting your lip, he definitely wanted to do that first.

He chuckled darkly at your quick reply, his mouth wrapped around your nipple and kept pumping his fingers in and out of you at a tortuous, fast pace. He loved every moment of his, the faces you made and the way your moans echoed through the walls, alerting the residents Kadeem fucking you good.

Your essence spread all over the bedsheets, driving you wild in pleasure. “Fuck..m-more,” you babbled softly, moving your hips to his fingers. Kadeem smirked at you while picking up the pace. You were a wet whimpering mess, legs shaking as he watched you break apart underneath him.

“Fuck Kadeem, just like that!” You reached for him desperately, when his fingers curled up inside you with reckless abandon, your back arched and your hands clutched his shoulders.

His hand grasped and kissed your breasts, releasing your wrists while your hands rested on his neck. His mouth sucked your nipple and his fingers kept that pace, “You better not cum till I say so,” he said with his voice raised an octave.

“Ohh…fuck! Fuck! Kadeem!” You moaned again, catching the faint squeaks from your bed as you scoot away, “No runnin’ from me, that’s the rule,” he replied as he grabbed your wrists again. All you could was scream loudly in pleasure from his other finger pinching your clit again.

“I-i need y-your d-dick, Kadeem,” You lamented in between sentences, feeling that familiar knot tightening in your stomach, his lips slotting against yours, your mouth parted for a scream of pleasure. That had his dick harden from you.

His tongue explored your mouth and twirled with yours. swapping spit in the deep kiss and leaving a spit chain as he pulled away from you. you were so tired of the damn teasing, your hands squirming in his clutch.

“Look at you, all lost in it,” Kadeem spoke up, feeling the pleasure from you, the heat raised, his thumb swiveling onto your clit and essence pooling around his finger.

“That feels too good!”

You were betrayed by your pussy, every thrust of his finger made your body scoot across the bed and you shifted and turned, and your skin began to heat up. You essence gushed onto his fingers, he stopped immediately and withdrew his fingers from your pussy. You couldn't help what body knew what to do, he released your wrists and spanked your ass roughly.

“What did I say? You don't listen…” Kadeem barked at you, his nose rubbed against yours.

Your chest rose and fell as you took a moment to compose yourself after nodding at him. You clenched the bedsheets while he enveloped your body, directing his thick dick towards your wet entrance.

His half-lidded eyes watches how your mouth parted for a slut like moan when he shoved himself inside you, pleading the man to fuck you harder. Bullying his dick deep inside to fit every inch, fulfills that craving of friction. “Already so fucking wet-damn..” he muttered.

"Kadeem, you're soo big,” You trailed off after a plethora of moans, he knew that you were speechless and only answered with a wild moan or two. Kneading your other breast while giving long, deep strokes that go dizzy and dumb, He likes this side of you, the way your body responds to him. He was definitely gonna make you his.

"You’re mine,” He whispered in your ear, digging deeper into you again as he watched himself go in and out effortlessly, your wetness coating his dick like a blanket. He wanted to get every drop, he moaned at the sight.

He brought his body closer to yours, your arms wrapped around his neck and his thrusts went sporadic, the gold chain touched your collarbone and you shook from the cold metal, “M-mine, you're all mine,” you trailed off

Nails scratching relentlessly onto his back with every ruthless thrust, Kadeem kept grunting and raspily moaning from that, he was spurred on from the way you bounced under him to your moans, this was better than his video, you were finally filled up to the brim by him. “Keep scratching me up pretty girl, I'll fuck you harder,” he groaned lowly.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your breathless moans, echoing off the walls as you saw the colors of the room blurring from your tear-filled eyes. As if the room was spinning, the bed creaked from the movement from when he picked up the pace again, thrusting deeper and harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “That’s my girl, you’re doing so good, baby,”

“That’s it, let it build. You can do it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl that resonated within you.You felt your swollen pussy clench around his dick tighter. “Let me cum, Kadeem,”

“You can cum now,”

With that, you came undone immediately. Your essence left a big mess on his dick and bedding, He followed suit by filling you up and you screamed loudly, the soft glow of the lights casting light onto your bodies. Kadeem collapsed beside you.

“You good?” he asked in concern with his eyes flickering toward you, you nodded weakly. “I'll run you a hot bath,”

“Damn girl, you’re something else,” Kadeem panted lowly, looking at you while kissing your lips.

“I can definitely say that same thing about you, baby,” You chuckled lightly.

He picked you up and carried you into the bathroom, running a hot bath for you while he gently settled you into the foamy bath, sighing in bliss at the touch of the warm water on your skin. He pulled up his sweatpants, then crouched near the tub. He looked like he had something on his mind.

“Can I take you out for a date?”

You smiled at the man and nodded in agreement, bringing your legs close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I’d like that, you remember what’s my favorite place?” you asked him, heat in your cheeks.

“Yeah, that Italian restaurant around the corner. I can pick you up around 8? This weekend?” he asked you with a gentle tone, smiling at you.

“I’d like that,” You replied with a warm smile. Feeling that warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach. This was a great Friday night, now he was all yours.

—————-

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

Sometimes I wonder what the AO3 tag wranglers thing about the SFTH fandom- we probably make things so difficult for them- just think about how many characters don’t have names, that in it of itself can’t make things easy

Anyway, thank you AO3 tag wranglers for dealing with the fandom. I love the tag wranglers

[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.

[mikamii25]

Some more Mr crawling headcanons! (Short ver.)

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.

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Bro 1000% has attachment/abandonment issues. He Absolutely HATES being away from you, but will leave you alone if you ask him to.

He loves when you play with his hair! He’ll ask for you to pet his head and braid his hair always!

he really likes listening to you ramble on about your interest, even though he can’t even understand most of what you’re saying. he could listen to you talk all day.

He’ll eat literally ANYTHING you make 4 him. he absolutely loves your cooking/baking, and could never possibly dislike what you make for him!

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.

.

that’s all! Hmm.. maybe I should write more next time lol 🥲

yeah… probably…

[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.” 

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[bettystonewell]

SNICKERDOODLES & SPECIAL SAUCE

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: friends to lovers, love potion, language, dubious consent, pining, eggnog, Mrs Butters is a terrible wingman, SMUT in parts 2&3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3

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 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Read on AO3

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.”

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

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[metalmiez]

Dancing at the Ritz

Their eyes met; the angel grinned, and the demon’s face went all pink and flustered. Aziraphale laughed, from the bottom of her heart, let herself fall backward, because she knew Crowley would never drop her. His left arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly. He bowed into her motion, his warm breath caressing her neck. Out of breath, she let herself pull back up, still giggling and noticed the most beautiful smile on Crowley’s face, more genuine than ever before. He enjoyed that dance a lot. Their faces were so close now that their noses almost touched, chest to chest, both breathing hard. She couldn’t recall when she had been working out this physically before. Her face felt like it was on fire, warmth crept though her whole corporation and Aziraphale had the indistinct feeling that she should float. She felt so happy.   Her arm was wrapped around Crowley’s shoulders, and he held her tightly. He was such a beautiful thing, and this smile made him look even more stunning, starfire burning in these gorgeous golden eyes.

Title: Dancing at the Ritz

Rating: Teen and up

Summary:

London, 1945. The war is over. Humanity rejoyces. There is a big party at the Ritz. And Crowley got his infernal hands on two tickets. It is time for a date clandestine meeting. Aziraphale waits with a surprise of his own...

Whew. Welcome back! It has been a good 9 months since I posted my oneshot "Hat Swap" (which I highly recomment you to read before you start this one <3). It has been a while. But this story never left me.

There was something to it I can't describe. I just loooove them in the 1940s. Actually, shortly after I posted Hat Swap in June 2024, I started to write this "little" sequel (she laughs, while she looks at the 10k words). It had A LOT of time to simmer. And I already have an idea for a Part 3. So it has become an official Series now <3 I hope you love this fic and this drawing as much as I do <3

[ahemaaaa]

THIS is what my insane ass has been cooking. I went full fanfic author with this one and I DID wanna do more with Spinner, but Dabi kinda became the main focus, so...yeah. Hope you enjoy!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited for you to read this fluffy, soft chapter between Joel and reader, I absolutely loved writing it 🥰 So much love between these two. Comments and reblogs always make my day, can’t wait to hear your thoughts ❤️

Chapter Summary: Joel throws reader the sweetest, most romantic birthday party and takes her to a rock concert

Word Count: 11.4k

Chapter tags: Oral receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v, sweet talk, love confessions, cute moments between Joel and reader, surprises

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the weekend before your birthday lazing around the house reading your romance books, strumming the pristine cords on your acoustic guitar, and binge watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A nostalgic show you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored. A weekend in is just what you needed.

It’s now Saturday evening, the warm sun slowly sinking behind dark clouds that threaten to pull it down as the moon takes its place, trading the fluffy clouds with clear skies and bright white stars. The air blows chilly breezes against your skin as you wrap the pink Nirvana hoodie closer to your body and cross your legs as you readjust the shimmering guitar in your arms.

You trace your fingers along the sparkly swirls and run them slowly over the glittering butterflies on the neck of the guitar. You can’t help but smile as you think of the handsome man that carved them with his own strong, calloused hands. Joel. You’re perfect, sweet man. You feel the butterflies flit through your stomach every time you think of him and his cute dimples that always pull at the edges of his cheeks when he’s really happy. And it’s always when he’s with you.

You smile at the thought of it, of him. You watch the sunset fade to purple and pink skies swirling into orange colors, then finally into darkness as the full moon shows its glow in the night sky. The back porch lights flick on as you focus on your guitar again.

You carefully strum along the cords, playing “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace as you hear the melody carry through the wind, taking the song with it as it flows in the night sky gracefully. You get lost in the song, quietly humming along to the beat as your fingers slide along the cords. It was a song Joel taught you how to play, and it made it that much more special.

You’re so deep into the song that you don’t hear the sliding glass door open and close behind you until you hear his deep voice as he comes up behind you, stopping just inches from the fold out chair you’re sitting criss crossed on.

“Sounds good, baby,” he says quietly, his deep breath raising all the hairs on the back of your neck as you nearly jump at his presence.

“You think so?” you ask shyly as you look up at him, finding his lips curled up into a smile as a dimple forms deep into his cheek. The sight nearly takes your breath away. You love his soft smile, the way his brown eyes delve into yours as he always looks at you so deeply. Like he’s looking into the mere pits of your soul. It’s mesmerizing.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes out, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his dark washed jeans as his fingers strain to keep them there. He can’t touch you. Not right now, not when your father is right around the corner. But he wants to. God, he wants to. It takes everything in you not to reach out and take his hand in yours. You want to so badly. But you know one touch wouldn’t be enough. It’s never enough.

“Well, you can thank yourself for making me the little guitar player I am. I wouldn’t even know how to play if it wasn’t for you. So thank you… for giving me something I now love.” You blush up at him, and he runs a hand through his unruly curls, trying to get a hold on reality again before he caves and sweeps you up in his arms.

He wants to sit right behind you on that fold out chair, wants to wrap his arms around your hips and pull you flush to his chest as he lets his calloused fingers brush over yours. Let his lips trace the edge of your long, perfect neck as he trails them up and down, nipping at your jawline as he gets lost in your vanilla scent he clings to every time he’s around you. You drive him crazy with desire, but he does the same to you. The perfect match. Twin flames.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Always love giving you guitar lessons,” he smiles as you blush up at him, remembering how the last guitar lesson ended with you on top of his lap.

You shake your head clear of the steamy memories before you get yourself all worked up, changing the conversation casually. “So, having fun watching the football game with my dad?”

He gives you a small laugh as he nods his head, making one of his tousled curls fall down over his forehead. It takes everything in you not to push it back out of his face. “Yeah, the game’s alright. Kinda hard to concentrate when you’re so close though. Think I’d rather be hanging out with his pretty daughter instead,” he smirks, making his honey brown eyes glisten with golden flecks. He was always so pretty, so heavenly, so warm.

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” you smile, resting the guitar on your lap as you trail your fingers along the wooden edges lightly.

“Mhm,” he hums out, standing and staring at you in a dreamlike way. “You excited for the concert Saturday?”

“You know I am,” you say with enthusiasm, sitting up straighter in your chair as you bounce with energy inside.

“I am, too,” he says eagerly. He runs a hand through his tousled curls again and looks at you almost nervously before he asks his next question. “I know your birthday is Friday, and I don’t know if you have plans with your friends or anything, but if you don’t I was thinkin’ maybe you’d wanna spend the night? Sarah’s gonna be gone this weekend, and I figured maybe you’d want a quiet evening in? If not, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer ‘cause I wanna make your day special. It’s fine if you have plans, but I just…”

You cut him off before he can finish his thought. “Joel, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than be with you. That sounds perfect,” you respond with a big smile plastered on your lips, trying your hardest not to get up and wrap your arms around his neck while you bury yourself in his woodsy scent you so love.

“Really?” he asks almost timidly, not believing you’d want to spend your birthday inside with him when you probably had friends begging to drag you out to some crappy bar.

“Really,” you confirm with the nod of your head and a shy smile splayed on your face.

“Okay. It’s a date then, birthday girl.” His smile reaches his brown doe eyes as they crinkle around the edges, making your heart beat faster by how pretty he is. He’s perfect, so so perfect.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you clear your throat and interrupt the heavy glances that nearly pull you over the edge. “Well, guess you should get back in there. I’m sure my dad’s wondering where you are,” you sigh, eyes falling back down to your guitar as you fight to not reach out and pull him down with you. It’s getting harder to control your feelings around your parents. You can’t deny it. That’s why you’re not sitting in the living room with them. It’d be too hard to sit on the couch when all you wanted was to be curled up in his lap.

“Yeah, guess I should,” he says slowly, not wanting to go back in just yet.

Before he turns away, you call his name quietly as he turns back toward you. “Miss you,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the blowing wind outside, but he hears you clearly as you see his brown eyes soften.

“I’m right here, baby,” he says as he takes two steps forward, letting his legs meet the edge of the chair as you look up at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… I do,” he whispers back quietly. He looks back toward the sliding glass doors, looking for any sign of your mom or dad. When he sees no one, he reaches a hand down and runs it through your thick hair slowly. You groan as his nails slide through your scalp, making you feel safe every time his hands are on you.

The next thing he’s doing is leaning down and softly kissing the top of your head slowly as he lets his lips linger there for a few seconds, probably too long. It feels good, always leaves you wanting more.

He stands back up and lets his fingers drop from your hair, stepping back as he smiles one more time at you. “I’ll see you later, baby. Keep practicing, alright? Love hearing you play.” With that, he disappears behind the glass door and leaves you alone with an aching feeling in your gut. You want him. You want him so bad that it hurts. But he’s yours, he’s yours.

You pick up your guitar again and start strumming along the cords, finishing the song you were playing before he came outside. The second you finish the song, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you dig it out and unlock it you see Joel’s name pop up on the screen.

Joel: Miss you more, pretty girl.

The message nearly sends you into overdrive as you stare at the screen, your lips curled into a huge grin as you read it over and over again. Joel Miller was so soft, so sweet, so tender. You’d never get enough of him. Never.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and strum lightly on the guitar again, only thinking of Joel and his thick, calloused fingers. Thinking of every sweet message he’d ever sent you before. And if your heart wasn’t bursting at the seams before, it was now.

Your parents take you out to Bartlett’s Thursday night for your birthday, the best steakhouse around Austin. You chew on a piece of fresh steak and let the sweet, savory flavors melt in your mouth with every small bite you take.

The restaurant is quiet tonight, only a few couples dwindling at circular tables nearby that chatter quietly amongst themselves. You take in the deep crimson tablecloths, the vase of white roses that sit in the middle of each table, the silverware that’s splayed out next to fine china plates, watch as the busy waiters take water and orders to each table every few minutes. It’s a fancy restaurant, not one you come to often, but it’s one of your favorites.

As you take another bite of the delicious steak, your mom sets down her glass of wine and smiles at you. “So, have any big plans this weekend?”

“Mhm. Might not really be home this weekend. Gonna go out with some of the girls tomorrow, and I have a concert on Saturday,” you reply as you take a sip of red wine, letting it slide down as the taste of cherry meets your tastebuds.

“Oh, who with?” she asks as she cuts into her chewy steak.

“Just a couple girls from class. You don’t know them.” You feel bad for lying, but what could you really say? That you were practically spending all weekend with Joel at his house, and he was taking you on the best date of your life? Yeah right.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to bring them over to the house sometime,” she says as she adjusts the pearly white necklace that laces around her long neck, letting her dark hair sweep over her shoulders.

“Sure,” you say as you dig your spoon into the fluffy white mashed potatoes.

“What concert you seeing on Saturday?” your dad asks in between mouthfuls of French fries.

“Ghost,” you say nervously, knowing your dad will have something bad to say about the band.

“Oh, isn’t that the band where the singer always wears a mask and dresses in priest costumes and plays that glam rock trash?” he laughs as your mom elbows him in the side.

“Yeah, dad. They aren’t glam rock though. They’re just rock and they’re good.” You emphasize the word and roll your eyes as you place a hand over your thigh.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun,” he laughs. “Did you know Joel was going, too?” he asks as he looks over the table at you. You almost spit out your wine as you choke on the sweet taste in your throat.

“No, I didn’t,” you lie as you dig your nails into your knee, letting them bite at your skin just past the point of pain.

“Huh. Thought he might’ve mentioned it since you’re into those types of bands. I didn’t even know he liked them. Would’ve never guessed, but he does surprise me all the time,” he laughs as he leans back into his chair, patting his full stomach as he cleans off his plate fully.

“Did he say who he was going with?” you ask as you chew another bite of steak, this piece not hitting the spot as nerves run down your spine.

“Said he was going alone. Kinda surprises me. Figured he’d take a date or something. But the old man’s going alone. Maybe you’ll see him there?”

“Maybe,” you say quietly, trying not to crack a smile as you know he’s taking you to the concert. You’re his date.

“Has he been off lately to you?” he asks as he knits his dark eyebrows together and narrows his eyes like he’s deep in thought. “He’s just been busier lately. Seems a lot happier too. Something or someone has been taking his time,” he says carefully.

You feel your cheeks burn red and try to cool down with a big gulp of ice water as you focus on not getting all worked up. “Oh, really? I guess I haven’t noticed then,” you say casually, not displaying much interest as you rut your black heels into the polished floor.

“Just is strange is all. He keeps turning down your mom’s friends, and I keep trying to get him to go out with Alexa, but he won’t budge at all. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but he must be seeing someone,” he stammers out as he crosses his arms over his button-up white shirt.

“Maybe he just enjoys being single. Maybe doesn’t want to deal with dating?” You cock your eyebrow up at him and take another sip of water slowly, letting the icy goodness stop the burn in your throat.

You want to shout it, scream it across the entire restaurant that Joel Miller is yours. He doesn’t want other women because he wants you and you alone. That’s what you want to say to your dad, tell him to stop pushing women onto him because he’s yours. But you can’t. You don’t know if you ever could…

“Mmm. Maybe. But something is definitely up, and I’m gonna find out one of these days,” he promises.

Maybe he’d find out one day, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not if you could help it.

Friday night you pack a bag and drive over to Joel’s, nerves pulling through you as you don’t know what all he has planned for you. You said you wanted a quiet evening in since tomorrow would be a busy, full day of fun. You know Joel’s full of surprises though. He was always doing things you wouldn’t expect of him. He kept you on your toes constantly.

As you park your SUV in the driveway next to his Chevy and climb out with your bag around your shoulder, you pull the pink dress over your thighs and hug the black jacket around the chill of the cool evening. When you climb up his porch and knock gently on the door, you wait till you hear his name echo through the house.

“C’mon in. Just finishing somethin’ up real quick,” he yells as his deep voice vibrates through the door. You twist the knob and head inside, dropping your purple bag in the entryway as you close the door and twist the lock tight. “In the kitchen,” he calls as you pull off your jacket and hang it on the brown coat rack that hangs by the door.

You smile as you make your way down the dimly lit hall as your white slip on Converse slide over the dark wood easily. You wonder what he’s up to and why he didn’t greet you at the door.

What is that man up to?

When you push past the long hallway and enter into the dim light open kitchen, you freeze in place. Joel stands against the marble countertop with a single red rose in his hand, twirling it between his fingertips as he smiles over at you gently. His brown eyes are warm, and they crinkle around the edges as the lines on his forehead raise when he lifts an eyebrow excitedly.

You gawk at him as you take in the surroundings of the kitchen. There on the center of the counter is a frosted cake that looks like he made it from scratch. Birthday candles glow in the soft lighting as they sparkle as the flame dwindles back and forth. A bouquet of red roses sit behind it with a black bow tied against the glass vase. And on the stove sits shrimp Alfredo and cheesy mashed potatoes, your favorite meal ever. But that’s not all. No. There’s also a small pink package with your name written on with the words happy birthday, angel scribbled on the side.

“Joel…” you whisper out, completely in a daze as your heart pulls in your throat. There’s no words for any of this. No words for how good he is to you.

His lips curl up into a shy smile as he hands the single rose to you, letting his fingers trace against yours as you take the flower from him and grab onto his soft grey t-shirt under his rolled up green flannel. “Happy birthday, baby,” he says as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean into him and dig your fingers against his cotton shirt, letting yourself take in his rich mahogany and woodsy scent. Wanting to breathe in every part of him as you fall apart all over him.

He drops his lips from yours and takes a step back, his calloused fingers curling around yours as he leans against the counter effortlessly. “Make a wish and blow out the candles, baby,” he smiles as you turn to face the lit up candles on the frosted birthday cake.

You take in the glow of the tall candles and blow gently, watching as the fire turns to smoke as the room fills with the scent of blown out smoky candles. You fan away the lingering smoke and face back toward him, laughing as you go.

He rubs his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand and looks into your eyes intensely. “So, what’d ya wish for?” he asks with a smug smirk on his face.

“I already have my wish. It’s you,” you say choked up, eyes glistening into his as your whole heart swells with warmth.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks as he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his broad chest, making you giggle in response.

“Mhm, that’s right,” you say shyly.

“Well, then. Looks like we think the same. ‘Cause I’ve been wishin’ for you for a long time.” He tucks a loose curl behind your ear and pulls you in. “C’mere.” He presses his lips against yours as you drink him in, parting your lips to allow him to slot his tongue inside. You embrace his warmth, devour his coffee taste, ravish all of him as you’re tied to him like a strong rope around an anchor. He’s yours. He’s yours.

When he breaks apart his lips from yours, he holds you close to him, not letting you out of his strong grip. Your eyes slide down to the cake with white frosting spread all around the top, some spilling over the corners. You look at it closely, see the way it was so carefully made by hand. And then it dawns on you. He made it.

“So, about the cake. Did you make it?” you ask as your glowing eyes trace up to his, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Mhm. Took me a little bit to get just right, but I think I did pretty good. Strawberry cake with vanilla icing on top. That’s your favorite, right?”

Your eyes widen at the realization. No one had ever made you a cake before that was homemade. And he was so careful to pick out what you liked and what was your favorite things. He was quite literally a slice of heaven. Mere perfection in your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s my favorite. Joel… thank you. That was so sweet. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me,” you say shaking your head, laughing at how stupid you must look for getting emotional over a cake. But it wasn’t just that. It was the effort he always put into you, the way he always cared and tried for you. He showed you every single day how much he wanted you, and it nearly brought you to your knees every second that you were his.

“‘Course I did, darlin’. It’s your birthday, your special day. The day you turn twenty-six. I wanted it to be extra special. Wanted to do all the things that make you happy.”

You hook your arms around his neck and smile softly up at him. “You make me happy, Joel Miller. You. Just you breathing and being in my space is enough to make me happy.”

He tics his jaw, and you can see warmth flood his honeysuckle eyes. The crows feet pulling at the edges of his brown eyes the wider he smiles. It’s absolutely mesmerizing. “That’s you, sweet girl. You make me happy.”

He lowers his lips back down to yours as you envelop his syrupy taste and smell, feel every single muscle in your body burn for him. This is what happiness was supposed to feel like, and you found it with Joel. Joel was your happiness.

After a few minutes of making out against the marble counter, you find yourself sitting across from him at the table eating shrimp Alfredo, cheesy mashed potatoes, and seasoned vegetables. It’s delicious, every single bite tasting savory and sensational against your salivating tastebuds.

You take in the mood lighting of the citrus candles, see the two red heart balloons tied to the back of a wooden chair, hear the low hum of a Metallica album playing in the living room. It’s quiet, peaceful, perfect with just the two of you. You couldn’t have asked for a better birthday than this with the sweetest boyfriend your heart could’ve ever desired. He had you hooked like a baited fish, ready to be reeled in at any moment.

“This is delicious. I didn’t know you were such a great cook,” you smile as you take another bite of your creamy Alfredo noodles.

“M’glad you like it. I don’t cook a ton, but when I do I actually kinda enjoy it. It’s sorta relaxing if that makes any sense.”

He takes a bite of his mashed potatoes and keeps his eyes on you, a faint smile curling up on the edge of his big lips. “I get it. It can be fun. Especially if it involves sweets.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “‘Course. You always were such a sweet tooth. Weren’t ya?” he asks with a wink, making you blush with the way he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you whole. He makes you frazzled all the time, and you don’t think that would ever go away.

“Speaking of sweet things. You ready for some cake?”

“Oh, I’m so ready,” you smile.

He laughs and rises from his chair, pulling you up by your arm as he takes you over to the counter and cuts you a big piece of cake. He lays it on a white plate, and you see just how pink and delicious it looks as the creamy frosting covers every inch of the square. Before you can take a bite, Joel swipes his index finger into the frosted icing and smears it across your cheek.

Your eyes grow wide and your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Joel!” you whine as you try to brush it off your skin. Joel grabs your wrist carefully before you can clean it off yourself.

“Oops. Was an accident,” he smiles mischievously as a devilish smirk curls around the edges of his lips.

“Haha very funny,” you chime out as you roll your eyes. “Now clean up the mess you made, Mr. jokester.”

He fully obliges as he pulls you to his broad chest and moves your hair to the side. “I planned on it,” he smirks. He flattens his warm tongue against your cheek and laps up all the frosting, making sure he goes slow, gets every speck as something pulls deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t be this turned on by him cleaning off the mess he made, but you are. So turned on.

“It’s good, baby. So sweet,” he purrs, a full smirk encased over his lips as he stares you down with those dreamy chocolate eyes of his.

“Didn’t even let me have the first taste,” you pout, jutting your bottom lip out as he smiles in return.

“I’m sorry, baby. Here. Have a taste.” He hooks his thick thumb into the icing again and brings it to your cherry coated lips. “Open up, darlin’.”

You fully oblige, opening your mouth just wide enough for him to slide his thumb in. You lick his finger clean, letting the vanilla goodness run down your throat as you hold tight to his wrist. You give him another long lick, this one just for show and watch him burn with desire.

His pupils can’t decide what to do. They grow wider, blowing out as darkness takes over. The once honey colored eyes grow into dark, deep chocolate eyes that want to devour you whole. He’s as turned on as you now, his breathing picking up as his nostrils flare out. “Taste good?” he asks as his large hands cover the sides of your hips, digging his nails into you for good measure.

“So good,” you purr.

He backs you up slowly to the edge of the counter, his finger digging back into your piece of cake as he takes a chunk of pasty frosting and paints it all over your inner thigh. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He drags out the words with a pathetic apology as he bends down and wraps his hand around your ankle, sliding his tongue up your thigh as he nibbles at the frosting, lazing his tongue up and down like he’s licking a cold popsicle on a warm summer day.

You dig your hands into the cool marble, sinking your nails in deep as you try to hold in a moan. He’s doing this on purpose, but you don’t mind. You want him to keep going. “Joel,” you whine out as you feel your panties start to grow wet under your blooming arousal. “What are you… oh.” Your words cut off as he trails higher, nipping just inches below your short pink dress.

Fuck, he loves to tease you. He’s getting you all worked up, wanting you nice and wet for him. He knows how to get you there, too. He’s too damn smooth with his moves. He could get you off by just the sound of his melodic, deep voice. Could make you cum by just blowing sweet whispered incantations in your ear.

“Wanted something even sweeter to eat and that would be you, darlin’.”

He hoists you up on the counter, bare legs hanging down as he stands up slowly, arms hooking around your waist and sliding you forward to the edge. Your breath gets caught in your throat as your cheeks burn hot. You feel flushed, turned on, excited. He was going to make you cum hard, you just knew it.

“You look so beautiful in that pink dress, baby. Did I tell you that yet?” he asks tenderly as he slides his hands up your short skirt, one hand ghosting across your slick center as you breathe out a flustered breath.

“No, I don’t think so,” you gulp as his thumb brushes over your clothed folds, elating a gasp as he breezes past the edge of your needy clit. You whine between your teeth as he drops his thumb.

“You’re always so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he growls, teasing his other hand across the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm. You always make me wet,” you moan, begging him to put his fingers on you again. He gets the point from your pleading eyes and your labored breathing, stepping into you as he pushes your thighs further apart as his large body crowds your space.

“Hips up for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely, and you generously obey.

As you lift your hips, he pulls the soaked black lace down your legs, dropping them to the floor as he lifts your skirt up all the way, leaving your pussy on full display for him to feast on with his eyes. His eyes go pitch black, pupils blown out as he licks his bottom lip seductively. It makes you want him even more as you watch the flames in his eyes dance for you.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. Soakin’ wet for me. Goddamn,” he says with a lust filled haze in his voice. He trails his fingers up your inner thigh, brushes over your center and spreads your folds wide as he sinks his calloused thumb down on you, slowly circling your puffy clit meticulously.

“Joel,” you moan, bucking your hips up as your body screams in pleasure. More, more, more.

“Oh, you like that do you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, a smirk pressed hard on the edge of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum out, unable to respond with words right now.

“Well, think you’ll like what I’m gonna do next,” he smirks.

He drops to his knees before you, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders as he gently kisses up your ankle, past your knees, up your inner thighs tenderly and then stops before he gets to your center where you need him most.

He glances up at you, a pure vision as his pupils blow out wide and his tousled curls drop down on his forehead slightly. He looks so damn handsome, so ravenous as he stares up at you with that heated look in his smoldering eyes. He wants to eat you alive, and you’ll let him.

“Birthday girls deserve to cum,” he smirks, half-hooded eyes staring up at you. “And I’m gonna make you cum hard, baby,” he growls.

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick, generous stripe up your folds and groans at the first taste of you. You arch your back against the counter as he spreads your folds and draws slow, meticulous circles over your throbbing clit.

You moan out his name and dig your fingers into his tousled curls, eliciting a deep groan out of Joel’s chest as your fingers deepen in his hair. His tongue is so experienced, so impressive as he devours you, leaving you completely breathless every time he sucks and pulls your throbbing bundle of nerves into his giving mouth.

He moves two fingers inside of your dripping hole, slowly pumping his fingers deep inside you as you swear you feel him hit the back of your walls over and over again. You moan his name out loudly as he hooks his thick fingers up, hitting that deep spongy spot that makes you tighten your ankles around the back of his neck.

“You like that, don’t ya, baby?” he coos, lust blown eyes staring up at you from the dark wooden floor.

“Yes, ahhh,” you say in a breathy moan, voice getting higher pitched the more he ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him the deeper he goes. You’re so close that you can taste the desire to cum on the back of your tongue, fingers twisting around his curls as you beg him to lick you up and down again.

“What do ya want, angel? Use your words,” he coos gently as he continues to pulverize your insides again and again.

“Want your…. want your tongue on me,” you whine, biting your lip as you feel more slick run down your thigh.

“Can you say please, baby? Say it. I wanna hear it…” he purrs, black eyes trained on you. “I love when you beg.”

“Pleaseeeee, Joel,” you beg hoarsely.

“Good girl,” he growls. He dives his tongue back into you, moving it up and down as he tastes you, torments you into oblivion. He tugs at your swollen clit, moaning every time he pulls you into his mouth, savoring your sweet flavor on his delicious tongue.

He loves eating you out, loves making you feel good, loves to make you cum as he feasts on you. You’re his favorite meal of the day he always tells you. He could eat you up every second of every day if he could. He loves it, craves it, needs it. Needs you.

He pumps his fingers faster, swirls his tongue languidly over your clit, and you’re right on the edge. You feel the warm rush start in your spine, slowly easing over your stomach and pelvis, warming your insides as you clench up around his fingers. You claw at his hair, feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your skull as white noise rushes through your ears.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me. Yeah. There ya go. Let me see you spill for me,” he growls, pulling your tingling bundle of nerves into his mouth, and it sends you over the edge one last time.

You tighten up against his fingers and feel yourself wash over him with warm slick that doesn’t seem to stop. He groans as he licks up the mess between your legs, laps at every crevice of your center as he licks and licks until there’s nothing left except your oversensitive clit and sated feeling.

You collapse back onto your elbows as you watch him slide your panties back into place, see him stand up tall over you as your slick coats his patchy beard, glistening over his dark mustache. He’s so beautiful, so fucking perfect. And he’s yours. He’s yours.

He places his large hands around your waist and scoots you to the edge, gently lowering you down to the ground as he braces you against his firm chest. Your legs shake underneath you, but he holds you up to where you can’t fall.

“Whoa, easy there. Think I did a number on your legs,” he laughs as he trails his hand up and down your lower back, soothing you from the intense orgasm he just gave you.

“You can say that,” you laugh as you lean your head into his soft flannel, eyes looking up at him as you see the soft glow of your slick on his beard. It nearly sends you falling to the floor.

“You gonna make it upstairs tonight?” he asks with an amused look on his face as his honey eyes seep into yours affectionately.

“Gonna have to carry me.”

“That can be arranged,” he smirks.

He picks you up and cradles you bridal style as you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing carefree as he takes you up the stairs and places you into his bed, leaving room for him to slide in beside you. When he finds a comfortable spot on his back, he pulls you into his arms as you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his side.

“This is nice,” you say quietly as he takes his hand and entwines his fingers with yours, knotting them together like a ball of yarn as you get lost in his calloused touch. He slides his thumb over the back of your hand, gently caressing you with nothing but care in his touch. The feeling is soothing, relaxing, delicate. You crave his touch like you crave caffeine, the feeling euphoric and addicting.

“Mhm. Love havin’ you here with me, baby. Feels empty when you’re not,” he says honestly as he takes his right hand and rakes it through your hair gently, lulling you into a calm, sated state.

“Yeah? You miss me when I’m not here?” you ask, shifting your weight to lift your chin and look up at him behind your long lashes.

“All the time,” he breathes, a still gaze focused on you as his calm eyes drag over you slowly. Your heart aches in your chest, a longing burn carrying through your body as you sit and stare at the man that sets your soul on fire. You ache for him, burn for him, mourn when he isn’t around. Two souls on fire for the other. A perfect match made in heaven. Joel was your saving grace, your way to heaven. You think he’d always be.

You raise up and settle onto his chest, brushing your lips over his as you savor his taste, still tasting the frosting from minutes before of the cake you still haven’t fully tasted. That could wait. Right now you wanted Joel.

“You miss me even now?” you tease, nose brushing over his as he smiles warmly up at you.

“Yes,” he murmurs, putting his hands behind your hips as he hugs you to his chest.

“Me too,” you reply, lips hovering just over his.

“I’m right here, baby. Not goin’ anywhere.” He pulls your head down to his as his lips crash into yours, feeling as if you were just splashed with a refreshing rush of water. You sink down into him, your hands running wildly through his tousled curls as his tongue dances along with yours. It’s slow, hot, possessive as he invades your mouth with his sweet taste that makes you weak at the knees.

You don’t know how long you’re there for, don’t know how you go from being fully clothed to completely naked as your bodies toss and turn passionately in the dark blue sheets. Your mind is a blur as your legs go over his shoulders, his thick cock driving into you over and over again as slick covers his entire length.

It feels like your whole body is on fire, center sated as he pumps you full of himself, emptying his spend in you as you both moan and whine as the orgasms wash over you like a blanket of bliss.

He pulls you back into his chest, breath ragged as you both come down from your orgasms. The room is hot, smelling of thick arousal and sex. It smells like him, the man you’re absolutely crazy about. It puts you at complete ease as you start to drift off to sleep on his chest with his thick fingers running through your hair.

You don’t remember falling asleep, it doesn’t take long till you’re under a blanket of darkness, but you’re not alone. Joel’s here with you. Easing you and lulling you into a blissful night’s sleep as you wrap yourself in his mahogany scent. This is where you belong, where you’ll choose to stay. This is it. This is home. He is home.

The next day is absolutely perfect. Joel gives you the best morning sex or your life and cooks you breakfast right after you shower together. Blueberry pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and leftover cake that melts like cotton candy in your mouth. You swear you’ve never tasted something as sweet and delicious before except for maybe him.

He picks up your favorite ice cream, strawberry, and then spends the day walking around hand in hand with you at Mayfield Park and Nature Preserve. One of your favorite places to relax and clear your mind. But you don’t have to clear your mind today, you get to relish in the fact that your favorite person in the entire world is at your side and trailing his calloused thumb up and down the back of your hand slowly, intimately. And it’s probably the best birthday weekend you’ve ever had in your life. Not even your sweet sixteen could top this one. Not when you have Joel.

You stay there till it’s time to get ready for the concert. You let the open windows of his revved up Chevy blow through your locks, let your arm hang out the window as you take in the cool breeze of November, soaking up the Texas sun as it warms the back of your arm. He lays his hand over your thigh and rubs slow circles over the material of your faded blue jeans. It’s so easy with him. Everything is easy with him. And you just know he’s the one you’re supposed to be with. He’s the one you were meant to find. Your everything…

In the next hour, you’re standing in his bedroom and assessing the outfit you picked to wear tonight. Your hands fall over the tight black leather skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles as you turn in a circle and make sure everything is intact. The sparkly lace sleeveless tank top fits you perfectly, and the white slip-on Converse just adds to the outfit. You feel hot, ready to enjoy a night of good music and even better company.

You generously apply some shiny pink lip gloss to your moisturized lips and draw sharp cat eyes with your liquid eyeliner over your sparkly, smokey eyeshadow. As you smooth out your wavy curls, you hear a low whistle come from the corner of the room and hear his drawn out deep voice come out like a dream.

“You look so good, baby. Absolutely breathtaking,” he says with a hum to his voice that comes off like a lilt, a voice you could listen to all day long on repeat.

You smile and roll your eyes nonchalantly, turning towards him and freeze when you take in just what he’s wearing. He leans up against the doorway of the bathroom, his right arm flexing against the rolled up red flannel that fights against his bulging biceps. His veins run thickly down his arms, whispering tempting thoughts into your ears to go sink into them.

His hair is slicked back, tousled curls held down by the gel that glues them in place. His flannel is left open, a dark Metallica shirt clinging to his broad chest. His dark blue jeans press firmly to his toned thighs, and when your eyes skate down his long legs you gasp at the shoes he wears. White Chuck Taylor All Star Converse sit laced against his feet, pulling the whole outfit together perfectly.

Your jaw drops to the floor at how ridiculously good he looks. He’s not just good looking, he’s so hot. The hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. And the white Converse? You’d never seen him wear any before. He was always in his worn, leather work boots. Not today, though. Today he wore Converse. Today was something new.

“What?” he asks with knitted brows pulled together, bringing his arm down from the doorway as he crosses his arms together, making the flannel pull tight around big arms. “Do I look funny or something? I can change if…”

“No!” you shout, cutting off his sentence as he looks at you surprised. “You look good, Joel. So good like wow. How the fuck are you so hot?”

He chuckles as he sticks his big hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You think I look hot?” he asks in an amused tone, his lips curling up into a big grin as a dimple forms against his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say while nodding your head fervently. “And the Converse? I’ve never seen you wear anything like that,” you say with shock rolling off your tongue, still amazed at what you were seeing.

“Oh, these?” he asks as he kicks one foot out, scoffing against the grey carpet. “Sarah helped me pick them out at the mall. I told her I was taking you to a rock concert, and she helped me look for some kinda like yours. Said she thought they were perfect, so I went with ‘em. Wanted to match with my girl,” he blushes as he runs a hand through his slick curls nervously.

You’re speechless, left lock jawed and trying not to get emotional. But the effort he put into picking out the right shoes, the way he wanted to match you? Well, that in itself was enough to start a fire in your heart.

“Joel Miller,” you say incredibly as you walk up to him and throw your arms around his neck, his own arms circling your hips as he pulls you into his chest, “you are the sweetest, most kind boyfriend I’ve ever had. You really went shopping for new shoes just for me? To match me?”

“Mhm,” he hums out, “wanted to make a good impression for a certain beautiful girl who’s way out of my league,” he teases as a small chuckle leaves his lips, his fingers digging into the leather of your skirt.

You laugh as you cup your hands together behind his neck, feeling his hair tickle the insides of your wrists. “Out of my league, huh?” you ask curiously, cocking your eyebrow up as you tread dangerously close to the edge of his smooth lips.

“That’s right. What’s a young, beautiful thing like you want with a forty-seven year old single father like me?” he laughs, a hint of insecurity shuttering on the tip of his tongue as his caramel eyes swirl in your vision.

You take the tip of your index finger and place it on his bottom lip, silently putting all his insecurities to sleep. “Everything,” you manage to say aloud.

You drop your finger and grab his soft t-shirt, pulling his lips down to yours as you both get lost in the cosmic kiss that sets your soul on fire. You take in his masculine, rich cologne scent and entangle yourself in his tousled curls, getting drawn into all of him as he pulls you tighter against him, lingering his lips on yours as he pulls at your bottom lip and slowly disconnects from your mouth. You groan at the loss of him.

“Should probably head out,” he says raggedly as he catches his breath. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, guess we should.”

He takes your hand in his firm grip and leads you out of his room and down the stairs to his parked Chevy in the driveway, making sure he opens your door as you climb into the comfy seat of his truck. When he starts up the truck and latches his seatbelt into the buckle, he places his hand on the top of your knee and draws slow circles as you melt into his warm, calloused touch.

You’d go anywhere with him, let him drive all night long with the wind in your hair and his hand running up and down your thigh slowly as you look at his perfect side profile with his lips curled up in a delicious smile that sets your soul on fire. This is where you wanted to be, where you always wanted to be.

The concert venue is packed as you walk through the glass doors and hand over your shiny tickets for the attendant to scan you in. As you step through the doorway, you see the various colorful guitars line the walls, see packs of people walking left and right trying to navigate their way around the venue. The smell of beer and popcorn fill the air, mixed perfumes getting lost in the crowd as you move through the sea of people.

You make your way down the concrete steps and walk into the general admission area, finding a place right in the middle as Joel’s hand doesn’t stray away from your interlocked fingers. The sound of Blink-182 hums through the speakers as various types of people sing to the words.

You look up at Joel and see his eyes scanning the stage at the setup of the band equipment, shifting his weight from side to side to the beat of the song. You know he doesn’t know this band, but you’ll amuse him anyways.

“Do you even know who this band is?” you laugh as you look at his pearlescent teeth shining just underneath his parted lips.

“Ummm, Fall Out Boy?” he asks with his eyebrows knitted together and a line of wrinkles mapping all along his forehead. You stifle out a chuckle as you shake your head.

“No, close. Blink-182,” you smile, laughing with him as he runs a nervous hand through his slicked back curls.

“Ahh. Was close,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to give me a lesson on all these bands you like. I can’t keep up.”

“Only if you show me more of the music you love. I’m not as familiar with older rock bands from the 70’s-80’s. Except maybe a few,” you say as you lean into his arm, resting your head on his shoulder as he hums out an idea.

“I will, but maybe I can just take you to some shows? Like Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Guns N’ Roses?” he asks as his honeysuckle eyes linger on yours, making a shiver run down your spine in the heat of his stare.

You flutter your eyelashes up at him as you part your lips, tasting happiness and contentment on the tip of your tongue. “I would love to, Joel. I’ll go to any concert you want, will go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

A warm smile fills his face, his honey eyes lighting up like fireworks as the crow’s feet pull tight at the sides. He looks like magic with the dimly lit colorful lights floating above him, painting the room shades of red and warm colors as his smile reflects off the illumination of the large arena. And you can’t help but feel that deep ache pull in your gut. Tugging at your heartstrings as he reaches inside your chest, entwining his own strings with yours as you become completely tangled together. One beating heart that burns for the other. Irrevocable, bound. A clear picture of two souls completely enamored with the other. Just like a spreading fire, burning shades of amber and orange that coat your insides with pure bliss. Wildfire.

Just as you get lost in his amber eyes, the lights go down and Breaking Benjamin takes the stage as the entire crowd erupts into screams of excitement. You break eye contact and draw your eyes to the now lit up stage as the lead singer yells to ask how everyone is doing tonight. More screaming erupts and then they start up playing “Breath”, one of their more popular songs.

Joel pulls you into his broad chest as his arms snake around your waist, holding you close through their whole performance. You sway your hips, sing along to every song, and even Joel nods his head to the beat.

He surprises you when you hear him quietly singing parts of “Angels Fall”, one of your favorites that you’ve probably played for him hundreds of times. But it warms your heart to know he’s grown to like this band, a band which you’ve loved since you could remember. And you can’t help but look up from the corner of your eye and watch the way he stays transfixed on the stage, paying attention to every detail of the guitarist’s hands as they strum along the stage. You could see him up there, shredding on the electric guitar. A sight you’d pay anything to see.

He catches you looking up at him, and he smiles gently as he pulls his lips down, down, down until he’s placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You lean into him, taking in every single moment of this night with your dreamy date. You can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather spend this night than with him.

When they finish their last song and clear the stage, the lights come back up and the sea of crowd parts like the Red Sea, opening up the pit as people flock to go get drinks and merch up the stairs. You turn around to Joel stretching his back, a slight wince in his furrowed eyebrows as you hear him pop his back and neck.

“You alright?” you ask as you reach a hand out to rub at his lower back.

“Mhm. Just didn’t realize I’d be so stiff standing at a concert. My knees are killing me,” he whines with the huff of his warm breath.

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help?” you ask as you run your hand up his thick, veiny arm in a calming aura. Joel catches your wrist and brings it back down to his side to lace his fingers in between yours.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, angel. Don’t worry about me. Just gettin’ old is all,” he says with a deep chuckle as it radiates through your chest.

“You’re not old,” you laugh as you smack him lightly against his arm.

“Oh, yes I am,” he fires back.

“Whatever,” you say with an eye roll that makes him laugh even more.

“Next time we’ll get seats. How ‘bout that?” he asks with a charming smile spread taut across his mouth. It sends butterflies through your lower regions.

“Deal,” you nod as you spill up at him.

Next time. The words give you life, make you tingle with warmth as the words make a silent promise that there will be a next time. This thing you have together isn’t just temporary. It means he wants you. He wants you. And you want him. Forever and always. You never want to let him go. Never.

It doesn’t take long until Ghost comes out on stage, lighting up the venue with flashing bright lights and visuals that give off a party vibe. Tobias is dressed in a fitted black suit with his black hair slicked back and his skeleton looking mask stuck to his face. He’s handsome, making all the girls swoon as he flirts with the audience and starts off the show with “Spillways” blaring through the speakers.

The crowd sways and jumps, singing out all the lyrics as you hear men and women scream every time the guitarists gesture their hands in the audience’s direction. You feel Joel behind you nodding his head to the beat, feel his foot tap along to the cords of the guitar that echo through the arena. He’s enjoying himself, having fun. You can’t help but feel a little dizzy that you’re actually here with him. That he liked you so much that he’d get out of his comfort zone and take you to see a band he slowly warmed up to. And he ended up liking these guys, you just couldn’t believe it.

During the middle of the show, “Dance Macabre” starts to play and you spin around fast as Joel laces his hands into yours eagerly. It’s your song, the one you and Joel always turn up loud when it plays in his truck. Our song.

There’s a sting in the way you kiss me.

Something within your eyes said it could be the last time before it’s over.

Joel spins you in a circle and pulls you against his chest, slow dancing with you in a circle as you both laugh and chant out the lyrics together.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you in the moonlight.

Just want to be, want to bewitch you all night.

The lyrics hit you like a tsunami, Joel had bewitched you. He won you over heart and soul. Every single part of him you desired, burned for.

As you continue to dance and sing the lyrics to each other, the world seems to fade away. It’s almost like everyone else in the room disappears, fades into the black. You can only hear Joel’s melodic voice carrying through your ears as you sink deeper into him. His warm, deep brown eyes only look at you, and they shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them glow before.

You can’t break away from his gaze, can’t wipe the ridiculous grin you have plastered on your face, can’t stop singing the enchanting lyrics with him as he spins you around once more, latching his arms around your waist as he pulls you in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tiptoes to ghost your lips over his as he brings his forehead down onto yours, resting it there as he stares deep into your eyes. It’s just you and him, floating off on your own island that was made just for you as the music carries through your ears.

This feels different, so intimate, so special. It’s as if the universe and all the stars aligned together to put you and Joel in this place and time together. Like nothing else matters in the world. It’s just you and him dancing, singing the lyrics together, and getting lost in each other's eyes. It’s absolute magic, magnetic, euphoric. And you swear you see forever in his eyes.

When the song ends he pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, not caring about who might see. He doesn’t care about anything other than you in this moment of time, doesn’t want to ever let this moment go. Because it means the world to him. You mean the world to him.

When you turn back towards the stage and Joel wraps his arms back around your waist, you pull your iPhone out and open up the camera. You want to remember this moment forever, want to keep it locked safe in your memories so you can look back months later and remember one of the happiest nights of your life.

“Take a picture with me?” you ask shyly as you hold your phone up.

“What, the prettiest girl wants to take a picture with me? I’m flattered, sweetheart. Gonna make me look bad though,” he smiles as he blows gently against your ear, nipping your earlobe as you drown in his sweet smelling cologne.

“I could never make you look bad, Joel Miller,” you laugh.

You angle the phone just right where you’re both looking into the camera, his face resting beside your cheek as he smiles devastatingly handsome into the lense. You snap a picture and then another, but then he’s changing positions and giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You snap another picture of him like that, looking nothing but love struck for each other. Then you turn around and plant your lips on his as he holds you tight by the waist. You capture the moment, snapping a couple shots as your lips linger over his. These would be some of the best memories of tonight, something you could print off and put in a picture frame. Your favorite keepsake of them all, and that was Joel Miller.

You drag your tired legs outside the concert venue, dreading the long walk back to the truck. It’s only a few blocks away, but still. It feels like miles in the state you’re in.

Joel notices you lagging behind and slows his long stride. “You okay there? Look a little tired,” he asks as he takes your hand in his to steady yourself.

“I’m just tired. I feel like I’m about to fall over. Soooo tired and my feet are on fire, but it was absolutely worth it,” you smile, eyes lighting up at the curl of his lips on his beautiful face.

“You need a hand, darlin’? Don’t want ya fallin’ over on me now,” he laughs, and the sound is infectious as it rings sensually through your ears.

“I’ll be okay,” you sigh, continuing to walk with the burn of the back of your heels.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder as you scream and laugh at the same time, throwing your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Joel! Put me down! I don’t want people seeing up my skirt,” you laugh as he tugs on the material, making sure you’re fully covered.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. And you’re covered, I got ya.” He gives a gentle slap to your ass as you shriek and dig your fingers into his tousled curls at the nape of his neck. You relax your head against the crook of his neck and let him carry you back to the truck as the bottom of your feet start to let up.

“Your back, Joel. I don’t want to irritate it,” you say with concern running off your tongue. The last thing you want to do is throw his back out. You’d be giving him back massages endlessly to make up for it if that’s what happened.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Don’t worry about me. Gotta take care of the birthday girl,” he beams as he carries you across the road to the large, busy parking lot he parked in earlier.

“You’re sweet, Joel, but really. I don’t want to hurt you,” you repeat, your words coming out more serious than before.

“I’m fine, baby. Really.” You nod your head and sigh, continue letting him carry you until he gets to the truck, unlocking the door as he sits you down into the passenger seat and closes the door gently behind you. When he opens his door and gets situated in the driver’s seat, you flatten your body over the entire front seat and curl your head onto his lap as you dig your hand into his dark jeans.

“You gonna make me drive like that, baby?” he laughs as you turn on your back and look up at him, latching on to his flannel as you smile up at him.

“Was thinking about it.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you can feel all the vibrations in his body go through yours. It’s a nice feeling, makes you feel even more connected to him.

“I had the best time tonight,” you say quietly as you drag your thumb against the cotton material, making circular patterns as you focus on the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the only one he sees.

“Me too, angel. I can’t tell you the last time I had that much fun at a concert. But I can tell you one thing, it’s because you were with me,” he says with his lips curling up into a sideways smile that nearly takes the breath from you.

“Yeah?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the nod of his head, a stray curl falling down onto his forehead as it escapes from the gel in his hair. You lift your hand and push it back into place, letting him catch your wrist and bring his lips down to your knuckles, tenderly kissing them as he brings your hand back down to your lap.

He trails his calloused fingers against your cheekbone slowly, dipping them over your jawline as tingles rush down your spine. His fingers feel electric, magnetic, like a current flowing through your insides.

His eyebrows knit together in concentration and he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, letting it linger as he stares soulfully down to your lips, letting his honey eyes pull back up to yours.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks quietly, a dazed expression meeting his eyes as the words come out warm, almost loving.

You nod up at him slowly. “You make me feel beautiful, Joel. You.”

He stares at you for another minute, eyes flicking between your lips and then back into your eyes. This time he holds your gaze, his eyes shifting into something you’ve never seen before. Something new, something exciting, uncharted territory.

You get lost in his gaze, exploring every warm fleck of sunlight that captures his brown irises. You watch the light brown flecks turn to warm honey colors as they seem to mix in with the darker brown shades of his eyes. You swear you can see whole galaxies in those eyes, can see yourself etched into the crevices that mix to make sunlight and splashes of amber painted together. You think you see your whole future in his eyes, can hear his irises calling your name like that’s where you belong, can feel yourself mixed together in the blood that keeps his beating heart alive, can taste the promise of forever in his arms. Like home is in his eyes, in his mind, in his heart, in his spirit, in his entire being. And you know that this is more than just infatuation and attraction. It’s more than chemistry, more than just a fling. It’s love, it’s pure undeniable love.

You see the way his eyes grow wide, see his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen before. You see he realizes it now, too. He feels it just as much as you do, feels the irrevocable pull that ties him to you, sees the girl of his wildest dreams. And that girl is you. It’s you.

He says your name slowly, quietly as he brushes a curl behind your ear and drags his fingers down your jawline, stopping right on your cheek as he traces slow strokes against your soft skin. And you know it’s coming, can see it in those dreamy eyes of his that you so desperately long to see every single day.

“I love you…” The words wash slowly off his lips as those three words send a wildfire running down your veins, coating your insides with warmth and longing that you’ve never felt before. He loves you. He loves you.

You wipe away a tear that pulls at your waterline, letting your smile take over your giddy features as you reach your hand up and run it through his salt and pepper scruff, getting lost in his touch, his scent, his everything. For this moment is raw, real, so very authentic.

“And I love you, Joel Miller. So much. So very much. How’d I get so lucky?” you choke out as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours as the flames ignite together.

The kiss is messy, passionate, everything you ever wanted after the sweetest love confession of your life. You let him bury his hands in your hair, let him inside your mouth as he slots his tongue up against yours, getting completely lost in his taste, his smell, his passion.

You know now that he burns for you just as much as you burn for him. Two flames consuming the other until there’s only one left. Twin flames that burn bright together. And it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed.

Joel Miller is it for you. He’s the only one that can set your soul on fire like this. The only one you want to set you on fire. And so you let him burn in your presence, consume you until you’re nothing but a flame that only burns for him. He’s your constant, your person, your everything.

When you finally part lips and find the parking lot almost empty, Joel starts the truck up and puts it in drive, leaving one hand tangled in yours as your fingers connect like webs. Your head stays in his lap as your eyes close partially, letting the hum of the truck and his calloused fingers sing you to sleep. You’re going back home. Not to your parent’s place, but to his. That’s where you belong, where you want to stay. With him. Because he is your home.

He’s home.

[dailykeiji]

what are your thoughts on gashu x mr chidouin x keiji

today’s keiji is: k……. keishu…………..

bonus:

[follow-the-ghostlight]

I NEED TO DRAW MORE FANART FOR MY OWN FIC!! In The Fog of London is my Wattpad and Ao3 Jekyll and Hyde fic!! It’s loosely based on the book for source material!! Wattpad has the PG-13 version and Ao3 has the R version for more mature readers. I’m actually really proud of it hehe

GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU LOVE MONSTER ROMANCE AND SHORT COUPLES!!

Wattpad: GhostLightSprite

Ao3: GhostLightSprite/SantoDelleMaschere

[ominus-potato]

THE THIRD PART OF THE PINING MARIO SERIES IS HERE!!!

Shots & Cowboys

The SMG's and Mario go to a bar together for one of their bi-monthly meet ups to discuss meme guardian stuff and catch up. Whilst there, Mario unexpectedly runs into Mr Puzzles who is there trying to make new friends.

Unprepared for the sudden meet with his crush, Mario is practically falling over his words trying to buy the TV man a drink. But what happens when a certain gun-slinging cowboy from Puzzles' past comes into the picture? Will this smooth-talking squid be able to swoop Puzzles' off of his feet and away from Mario in just one night??!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This one is even longer than the last one so sorry if it drags on a little 😅 I’ve been wanting to make some Onestar shipping content for a while so I figured this fic would be a good way to do it. Also, people always write Puzzles as the jealous one so I wanted to give Mario a chance to be jealous >:3

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!!!

[mccn-bcys]

Je T'aime

prompt: Love Note pairing: steven grant + gn!reader summary: you've been the best thing to ever happen to steven. He loved doing so much cheesy love things with you, even writing little love notes and letters. warning: light angst, steven being a cutie, steven speaking a little french, fluff word count: 1.2 K author's note: this is my second work for the Moon Knight Bingo hosted by @moonknight-events. the bingo board will be at the bottom of my fics for it. This one is a little short, but it's sweet and I just love steven grant so I hope you all enjoy this! As always, if you like it, please, please, please reblog to share it with your friends! also i'm starting my tag list over so if you'd like to be tagged in future fics for specific characters or for this event or for all fics, tell me in my asks and I'll add you to the list!

Steven Grant has always been a romantic. It’s in his DNA, he’s convinced. He loves the idea of love, the idea of unashamedly showing and professing the love that you feel to the person you feel it for. He’s proud to admit that he has seen just about every rom-com out there. He never misses a new Hallmark movie – yes, he knows the acting isn’t good, and that they’re cheap and silly, but they’re reliable. Love always prevails in them.

Sure, there’s probably a reason that Steven has a romantic heart. If he had to guess, he’d probably say it comes from his relationship with his mother. I mean, Steven was born from Marc’s lack of love from his mother; Steven was there to see all the good times with Wendy, he got to experience all the love from his mother, while Marc took all the times she didn’t love. Perhaps Steven liked the idea of someone loving them unconditionally. Perhaps it was the very concept that someone could love them both, that one of them wouldn’t have to take the bad days, or the days that lacked love, because there wouldn’t be days that lacked love.

Perhaps that’s what made Steven fall in love with you so quickly. Because from the start, he knew you would love all of them, not just one part of them. Even if there were bad days, or hard days, you were still here, showing that you still loved them. It was mind-altering, especially for Marc. But for Steven, it meant the world.

Especially, because now he had someone to express all his love to, someone who appreciated all the ways Steven liked to show his love, no matter how cheesy or silly they were. You adored everything he did.

Steven knew you kept all his gifts. They were in a box in your closet. It was full of date receipts, jewelry, drawings, poems, and all other things he’d gifted you throughout your relationship. One thing that he could never find was all the love notes he left for you. You always say you love them, but he never sees them anywhere. And even though he knows you would never do such a thing, the bad part of his brain wonders if you throw them away, or if you tuck them away and forget about them.

That is until one day. You were in the shower while he was combing through your bookshelf, seeing if you had any new books for him to read. And there’s a book he doesn’t recognize. Have you always had this book? It looks almost like a binder, like a notebook that’s meant to pass as regular book. Should he open it? He supposes it couldn’t hurt. If you didn’t want anyone to read it, you wouldn’t leave it out. And even if he isn’t supposed to read it, he’ll take the blame for nosing around.

Pulling it from the shelf, he flips it open, seeing that there’s pages but they each have sheet protectors on them. Pulling out his glasses, he reads the first page, and he realizes what this is. Thumbing through the rest of the pages, he looks and sees the rest of the protected pages in the book.

His love notes.

You had all of them, sitting on your bookshelf, protected in this little book. Emotion wells in his eyes as he reads them over, feeling relief flood through him as he now knows you did like them, you kept all of them, and you kept them on your bookshelf for anyone and everyone to find it and read it.

“Took you long enough to find it,” your voice sounds from behind him, making him slam the book shut and whirl around, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“What?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found that before now. Figured it would be the first thing you read when you started reading my books,” you chuckle, walking over to him, your wet hair framing your face as you’re wrapped in a towel. You must’ve used him soaps, he can smell it.

“What do you mean?”

“I left that book out for a while for you to find. On the table, the nightstand, almost everywhere. But you never mentioned it, so I figured you never looked at it. It figures that you’d find it as soon as I put it on the bookshelf.”

Steven didn’t really have any words, wasn’t sure what to say. He just looked down at the book, reading over the words that he had written to you.

“You kept them,” he says softly. It’s not really a question since he can clearly see that you did. But you answered anyways.

“Of course, I did.”

“Why?” he finds himself asking. Obviously, it was because you loved him. But he can’t keep himself from asking, as if the notion baffles him.

On some level it does baffle him. The letters themselves are silly, elementary. But still you kept them, even though anyone else would not have wanted to keep such childish things.

“Because you wrote them. You took the time to write down the way you felt. Because they’re from you,” you said like it was simple. Because, to you, it was simple. You loved Steven, so you wanted to keep every little thing he gave you.

He looked at you softly for a moment, just looking at you. What did he do to deserve someone like you?

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing, love, just… thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“Funny, I think that same thing every time I read those letters,” you chuckle, slipping your arms around his waist.

“Every time? What do you mean?”

“I read them a lot. Mostly at night before I go to sleep,” you admit.

“Really? Why?”

You looked at him with a curious glance, but you looked so patient and amused. “Because they’re from you. They make me feel loved and comforted. They make me think of you.”

Steven’s chest tightens with emotion. Slowly, he slips his glasses off his nose and puts them back in his shirt pocket, placing the book back on the shelf as he slips his arms around your towel covered body, and he just looks at you.

“Je t'aime plus que tout,” he whispers softly as he brushes a wet strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. His heart squeezes when he sees the way you smile brightly at him. He knows that you love when he speaks French, you’ve always found it romantic and beautiful.

“I love you too, Steven,” you murmur back, leaning in to kiss him softly, which he gladly returns. When you pull back you grin and give his ass a playful squeeze. “Now go take your shower so we can read together before we go to sleep.”

“You got it, love,” he smiles wide, giggling softly as he pulls away to walk to the bathroom.

It’s still steamy in the bathroom from your hot shower, the mirror clouded over with steam. Except for the spot wiped in the center of the mirror, where Steven’s face fits perfectly in, and the words that had been written in your handwriting and Steven realizes you had left him your own love note:

Steven, You Are So Beautiful, Inside And Out. Je T’aime.

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