#swagger souls x y/n

[bad268]

Can I request some fluff with SwaggerSouls? There's a severe lack of content for the man and damn I'm sad about that.

To the Kitchen! (SwaggerSouls X Reader)

Fandom: RPF

Requested: Clearly (I was gonna post this for 420 followers, but I went through and blocked bots...Then the peach said post it Wednesday, so we post it Wednesday!)

Warnings:  language (everything I write should be automatic tw language), drugs (marijuana)

Pronouns: None used

W.C. 1906

Summary:  Fitz gets a new neighbor who is great at baking cookies, and some special sweets.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Swagger's YouTube profile pic)

I had been living in (hometown) for my whole life, but a spur of the moment decision led to me packing up everything to move to Melbourne. Maybe it was not my best decision since I knew no one, but I could not turn back now.

I found a small apartment in the middle of the city. It was the only one available in the area that I could afford, but it was cute. It was my first day, so I thought the best thing would be to introduce myself to my neighbor. I was on the end of the floor, so I only had one neighbor. I remembered that the best way to make friends was to make food, and I happen to know how to make some of the best cookies anyone's ever had.

I made a small batch to bring over to them since I did not know how many lived there, and if they needed more, I could always bring them more. I set them all on a paper plate and took them over to their door. When I knocked on the door, it sounded like five guys cheered, and my eyes widened. There was no way five people would fit in an apartment as small as mine, but I'm not judging.

After a couple of seconds, one of them opened the door, and he immediately closed the door shouting, "you're not pizza!" I heard a couple of them groan in response.

"But I have cookies?" I replied back, confused. Suddenly, the door opened again. This time, it was a taller guy. "I wanted to introduce myself and bring cookies, but I can leave-"

"No, we like cookies," He cut me off. He gestured for me to come in, and I saw four more guys and a girl. I stayed out in the hall, so he just introduced himself. "I'm Cam, but my friends call me Fitz."

"Interesting, I'm your new neighbor, Y/N. I used to bake a lot back home, so I thought I would make you some cookies, but I realize there might not be enough for everybody," I laughed holding the cookies out for him. He took the plate, and thanked me before I took my leave. "I hope you guys like the cookies. I'm going to head back to my place, but if you want more, just let me know."

"Of course, it was nice to meet you, Y/N," He said, closing the door. I headed back to my apartment, fully ready to chill for the night. I was ready for a night of getting high and binging my favorite show until the early hours of the morning. Maybe I would end up making some special desserts.

~

Unbeknownst to you, the guys were skeptical. In Fitz's apartment, they were debating if you actually made those cookies. Mason was convinced they were store-bought based on how they looked, but once he tasted them, he was in awe. He was sure a professional baker made those cookies, and he really did not believe you made them. Matt and Toby thought he was crazy, but once they tried the cookies, they were on the same page as Mason.

They broke out into a full debate, and it still wasn't solved when Swagger showed up with the pizza. No one even noticed him walk through the door until he slammed it shut.

"What the hell?" He yelled, setting the pizzas on the counter. "Ooo who bought cookies?"

"Try one," Jay enlarged, passing the plate closer to Swagger.

"Are they poisonous or what?" He asked with a laugh before taking the last one and eating it. "Holy shit, who fucking made those?"

"My new neighbor, what do you-" Fitz started asking, but Swagger was already gone. He was already in the hallway, walking up to your door. Everyone held back for a minute to see what he was going to do. He just started banging on your door. It was so loud, they thought the entire floor would wake up. "Swagger, shut up! You're gonna get me kicked out!"

~

It took me a few minutes to realize that the loud knocking was at my door. I thought it was coming from the show, but I also could not find it in me to get up from my spot on the floor. I fell off my couch a while ago and could not figure out how to coordinate my limbs enough to stand, so I just shouted, "It's open!"

The door swung open, and in walked a man, shaking something in his hand. He was talking too fast for me to comprehend what he was saying. He was walking around the couch, still speed-talking about something important, but I cut him off, "You're gonna have to talk a lot slower if you want me to understand."

It was then, he looked down, and he must have seen the look on my face looking back at him from the ground because he hesitated before asking, "Are you okay?"

"Just high, but what'd you want?" I responded slowly.

"I need to know where you got these cookies, and where you got your weed cuz holy shit, you are fucked," he laughed.

"Thanks, I made them, and the weed I brought with me from (hometown)," I replied as he came over and laid next to me on the ground. "What're you doing?"

"Getting in the mindset of someone who knows how to bake the best cookies I've ever had," He laughed as he finished off the cookie. "Also, I ate an edible earlier, and it's just now kicking in."

I let out a gasp and turned onto my side to look at him before asking, "Do you wanna make high cookies? I brought a lot of shit from home, and I used to always make high cookies."

"Is it just making cookies while high or weed cookies?" He asked as he also turned to his side, looking directly into my eyes.

"Weed cookies, obviously," I stated with an eye roll. "What do you think I am? An amateur?"

"No, but we better get started before we're in the stratosphere," He laughed, moving to sit up, and then stand. He held his arm out to pull me up, but instead of heading straight to the kitchen, I took a couple of more rips from my bong before offering it to...wait. Who was in my apartment?

"Wait a minute," I said, pulling the bong back. I started laughing uncontrollably, "Who are you?"

"Oh shit, I'm Fitz's friend, Swagger," He laughed before reaching for the bong. This time, I let him take it, thinking his story checked out.

"Alright, as long as you aren't tryna kill me, we'll be good. Now, to the kitchen!"

~~

"What did I say about starting fights you can't finish?" Swagger threatened after I threw a little bit of flour at him at 2:30 AM one night.

"Who said I can't finish this?" I replied, holding the flour container closer to my body. "I think I'm the only one with ammunition."

"You think flour is the only ammo? I have the batter!" He retorted.

"You wouldn't dare waste the precious batter," I gasped in shock.

"Don't tempt me. I will," He joked as he smeared a little bit of the batter on my nose. I gasped, moving to grab more flour.

"Why you little shit-" I was just about to throw the flow when I paused, hearing someone walk into the kitchen. This gave Swagger enough time to fling some batter at me from the whisk, but I reached over and snatched it out of his hand before he could do it again.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Matt asked as he came into the warzone of a kitchen.

"We're studying to become dentists," I deadpanned as I licked the batter off my nose and Swagger poured the remaining brownie batter into a pan as if nothing happened. "What does it look like we're doing?"

"Making brownies at 2:30 in the morning? But why? We literally have to get up at 6, and you guys are being loud," Matt said. "Do I look like I'm gonna be sober during this 10-hour road trip with you lot? No. I am gonna be higher than a motherfuckin' kite, Matt. If you want one, you better start helping," I explained as I leaned on the counter and licked the batter off the whisk.

"There's no way you'd eat the whole pan," Matt laughed. "Surely, I could have one."

"Hey, I get some!" Swagger complained as he put the brownies in the oven, set the timer, and wiped his hands off with a towel. He came up behind me, hiding his face in my neck. "I helped, so I get some."

"You always get some, baby," I laughed. Matt gagged, jokingly, as he watched our interaction. I spun around in Swagger's arms, whispering to him, "I wanna sleep. What if we make him clean up?" Swagger nodded, leaning into me more. I threw my head back to look at Matt, "If you want some brownies before we leave, start cleaning, and take them out in 22 minutes."

With that, we left him alone in the kitchen as we headed up to our room. Once we got there, we were ready to collapse into bed after showering and changing.

"It is already 4 Swags," I groaned as he came out of the bathroom. He climbed under the covers on his side of the bed and pulled me into his side. I buried my face into his chest as I wined, "I don't want to have to wake up in 2 hours."

He laughed at my childish behavior before kissing the top of my head, "We could watch a movie, and catch some sleep in the van?" "Sleep? In the same car as Mason and Chad? I don't think we're talking about the same car, babe," I chuckled as I pulled back enough to look up at him. "Trust me, I love them, but they are loud as fuck."

"Ah, but you love me more right?" He teased me.

"Only a little bit," I joked back. He let out an offended gasp as he started pushing me away. I laughed at his antics before retracting my statement, "No, I'm kidding babe. If I didn't love you, would I have said, 'I do'?"

"I guess you're forgiven," He sighed as he turned the lights off. His arm was still loosely wrapped around my shoulder but not nearly as tight as it normally is, so I pulled back, pouting at him. He started laughing as he pulled me back down, "I love you too, now go to sleep."

It was silent for a couple of minutes, and I was just about to fall asleep. However, the creak of our bedroom door caused us to shoot up to see Matt, "Pst, guys. Sorry, but I burnt the brownies."

"Goddammit, Matt!" I groaned, throwing my head back into the pillows. "Are you kidding me?"

"It's 4:20, we could make another batch before 6," Swagger suggested as he looked over at his phone.

"Oh, it's 4:20! We have to go make a batch now because it's 4:20!" I replied, suddenly full of energy, as I jumped out of bed, and pulled Swagger back down to the kitchen.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[cheynovak]

Unexpected Melody

Characters: Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N is a talented singer and a longtime friend of Jensen Ackles. When Jensen invites her to one of his shows, she expects to be impressed by his voice—but nothing could have prepared her for the magnetic pull she feels when she sees him on stage.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Very quick one shot, enjoy!

You’d known Jensen Ackles for years, ever since your paths had crossed at some charity event in Los Angeles. You were a singer, touring across the country, and he was the star of one of the biggest TV shows on air.

Despite your busy lives, you’d kept in touch, grabbing coffee whenever you found yourselves in the same city. Over the years, a comfortable friendship had developed between you, the kind that made it easy to laugh and even easier to talk. You had always admired his talent, his easy-going charm, and how down-to-earth he remained despite his fame. But that was the extent of it.

Until tonight.

You were in Austin, Texas, for a few days after wrapping up your own tour. Jensen had invited you to one of his shows with his band, Radio Company. You knew he could sing—he’d casually serenaded you during late-night hangouts before—but you’d never seen him perform live. So when he asked you to come, you couldn’t resist.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he’d said with that infectious grin of his. “I want you to see what I’ve been up to.”

So here you were, standing in the crowd at a small, intimate venue, surrounded by fans who had come to see Jensen in a different light.

The air was thick with anticipation as you stood near the front of the stage, surrounded by eager fans. The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When Jensen appeared, guitar slung across his body, the entire atmosphere shifted. It was as if the world tilted slightly, putting him in the center of it all.

The band started playing, and as Jensen’s voice filled the room, you felt your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just that he could sing—he owned the stage with a kind of effortless swagger that you had never seen from him before. The rhythm of the music seemed to pulse through you, syncing with the rapid beat of your heart.

Your eyes were glued to him. The way his fingers moved over the strings, how his voice growled in just the right way, and the way he seemed to pour his entire soul into every note. And that smile—God, that smile. It was as if he knew something you didn’t, as if he could see right through you.

When the night sky emerged, you realized you hadn’t looked away from him once. You were completely mesmerized by the way he moved, the way the sweat glistened on his skin under the stage lights. The way his shirt clung to his body, revealing the toned muscles you’d never really paid attention to before.

Your mouth felt dry, and a strange heat spread through you. You tried to shake it off, but the sensation only grew stronger, more insistent. Was this lust? You’d been attracted to people before, sure, but this… this was different. This felt like something more primal, more intense.

And then, as if he could sense your gaze, Jensen’s eyes found yours in the crowd. His expression shifted—softened, almost. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. He held your eyes as he sang the next few lines, and you felt like they were meant just for you.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, Jensen’s attention shifted back to the crowd. But the damage was done. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. Could it be that you were starting to feel something for him? Something more than friendship?

The show continued, but you were barely aware of anything other than Jensen. The way his body moved with the music, the way his voice seemed to wash over you, the way your skin prickled with heat every time he looked your way.

By the time the final song ended, your mind was a jumble of confusion and desire. The crowd cheered as the band took their bows, and you clapped along with them, but your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, you made your way backstage, where Jensen had asked you to meet him after the show. Your heart pounded with each step, unsure of what you would say or how you would act around him now.

When you finally found him, he was toweling off, his shirt now soaked with sweat, his hair messy in the most attractive way possible. He looked up and grinned when he saw you, the easy-going, charming Jensen you knew so well.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, his voice still slightly husky from the performance.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly sum up what you were feeling? The attraction, the confusion, the sudden, overwhelming need to be close to him?

“It was… incredible,” you managed to say, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jensen stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. It was intoxicating, sending another wave of heat through you. “You sure about that? You look a little… distracted.”

There was a teasing edge to his voice, but his eyes were serious, searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts.

“I’m just���” You hesitated, then took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “You were amazing, Jensen. I didn’t expect… that.”

His smile widened, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you liked it. I was hoping you would.”

There it was again—that look. The one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral. You had seen him flirt before, had even been on the receiving end of it a few times, but this felt different. More intimate. More real.

He stepped even closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt charged with something electric. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the urge to reach out and touch him was almost overwhelming.

“Jensen…” you started, your voice softer than you intended.

He didn’t say anything, just waited, his eyes locked on yours, patient but expectant. As if he knew there was more you wanted to say, more you wanted to do, but was giving you the space to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, your mind a chaotic mix of emotions. Was this just physical attraction, heightened by the adrenaline of the performance? Or was it something more? Something you had been blind to until now?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the sight of him—sweaty, breathless, and so incredibly close—was driving you crazy. You'd only ever dated rockstars never actors, you'd made him clear in the beginning. Was this him making it clear he can be both? No that is ridiculous.

Yet without thinking, you took a step forward, closing the gap between you. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and the sensation made your skin tingle. Your hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and you placed it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

He sucked in a breath at your touch, and you looked up at him, seeing the same desire reflected in his eyes.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. It was tentative, testing the waters, but the spark it ignited was undeniable.

Jensen responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. It was everything you hadn’t realized you wanted—intense, consuming, and filled with a passion that took your breath away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. You searched his eyes, looking for answers, for reassurance, for something that would help you make sense of the storm inside you.

But all you saw was him—Jensen, your friend, your… something more.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His words sent a jolt of realization through you, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The reason you couldn’t look away from him tonight, the reason your body felt like it was on fire, the reason you were standing here now, in his arms.

It wasn’t just lust. It was something more. Something you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Until now.

--

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[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners

On Ao3

Next chapter

I know I said it was a one shot but I lied. I think it will be 4 chapters.

Marco X Reader, no use of "y/n." Fluffy fun.

Summary: You spend your days waitressing, using all your free time working to become an ornithologist and hunting poachers. You meet and befriend a rare mythical bird, with clear intelligence and astounding beauty. At the same time, an annoying group of pirates are docked at the island. One of them with a stupid haircut keeps trying to charm you, but you hate pirates and especially this one. He’s persistent - can’t he just leave you alone so you can hang out with your new Phoenix friend?

Marco isn’t sure what to do - you love him in his phoenix form, but you hate him in his human form. It's a tough spot for birds and bird watchers alike.

Notes:

I think that it could reasonably be assumed that the mythical Zoans are not the only of their kinds. They are the just only humans who can turn into mythical creatures. Rob Lucci is not the only leopard, Jack isn’t the only mammoth, Yamato isn't the only kitsune, etc. For the purposes of this story, there are more than one of each mythical creature, but only one Devil Fruit user who can turn into one. So reader isn't totally off that it is a phoenix, she just doesn't know it's The Phoenix.

~~~

You tightened your apron ties and scanned the patrons coming in for the lunch rush. Looked like the usual groups - some tourists, some bird watchers, some locals. You didn’t see any obvious waterfoul - your punny code word for pirates. One of the reasons you kept this shitty job was that it gave you a good peek into everyone coming and going on the island. Your island was famous for its stunning bird migrations. It was the southernmost island before the longest landless stretch of sea in the Grand Line. Flocks of birds would often rest at the island in preparation for the long journey to the next set of islands. It was also a wonderful location to try to spot rare and mythical birds. You’d seen a few and captured their essences in your sketchbook. 

Unfortunately, waterfoul weren’t interested in capturing images. They wanted to catch and kill rare birds for easy money. Poaching was a huge problem on the island, one that you frequently fought against. It was your personal crusade to try and stop as many poachers as possible. You’d caught some others - a few Marines, some local boys - but the primary offenders were almost always waterfoul. You carefully watched when crews came to the port, listening for signs that they were going to look for avian treasures. It usually took a week for log poses to set, so you had a good chance of seeing anyone suspicious. You didn’t care to keep track of any specific crew or pirates - they were all the same. Same arrogance, same swaggering attitude, same cocky assurance that they could do anything they wanted to with no repercussions. You hadn’t met any halfway decent pirates, and you didn’t think you ever would. 

Satisfied that you wouldn’t have to worry as much today, you began your shift. It was grinding your soul to shreds being inside and talking to customers when you could be spending it outdoors, watching and drawing birds. But you needed to make money to afford art supplies, new ornithology books, and poison for your dart tips. So inside you stayed, taking orders from idiots who didn’t know if the mashed potatoes were mashed or fried. After a grueling shift, you were finally able to leave. You chucked your apron into the dirty bin and left immediately, turning down your coworkers requests to hang out as a group after the shift ended.

“C’mon, you never hang out with me. Let’s go grab a drink,” Etta said, giving you puppy dog eyes. Etta was your work BFF, and your only real friend on the island. 

“I can’t, I’m going to try to catch -”

“The next bird migration, I know. But there’s always a bird migration on this island, that’s the deal here. You can see one tomorrow, the next day, next month, next year even! But there’s only one 2 berri marg night per week…besides I heard there are some hot new pirates in town.” She waggled her eyebrows at you, while you pretended to barf. 

“You know how I feel about pirates. But I do wanna hang out. How about this? Tomorrow after our shift I’ll buy you a margarita, even if it costs more than 2 berri.” You really did like Etta so you compromised - one night out would be OK, you probably wouldn’t miss much. She stuck her tongue out at you.

“Fine, but you can’t flake out. If you do, I’m leaving you to do side prep all by yourself. Think of all those lemons you’d have to cut.” She rolled her eyes, but it was a plan. You were truly excited - she was the first friend you’d made since you were a child. People often told you that you were “intimidating,” or “prickly,” or “difficult,” which was all just code for “bitchy.” You didn’t care - you wanted to be yourself, not try to dull your edges for people who wouldn’t like you either way. So you were happy to be friends with Etta, who liked you despite your “poor attitude” (as your boss called it). 

You changed out of your work clothes and into your hiking gear, taking your day pack with you. This is what  you liked most - going into the wild to watch for birds, especially legendary ones. You walked down to the forest edge and started on a well trodden path. It didn’t take you long before you had diverged from the path and were going rogue. You’d never see anything really good on the tourist paths - people were too loud and startled the birds away. Besides, you’d been on the island a long time now and you knew the best places to wait and watch. 

You picked your way through the dense forest towards the hidden waterfall. It was your slice of heaven on earth. It was secluded enough that you’d never seen anyone else there. The area surrounding the waterfall was more open than the forest floor, making it easy for camping overnight. The water was always cool and clear, wonderful for swimming on a hot day. The waterfall wasn’t terribly large or loud, bringing a pleasant sound of rushing water. There was an alcove behind the waterfall, large enough for three or so people. Leafy trees lined the banks of the river the waterfall fell into, bringing shade on hot days. It was your happy place, where you retreated both physically and mentally when stressed. Today was no exception.

You reached your destination and put your pack down on a familiar flat rock under the shade of a tree. You took out your pencil, sketchbook, and binoculars and started your stake out. You were already mentally tallying the different bird cries you heard. So far, nothing out of the ordinary, just local birds trilling. You also delighted in the ordinary - you enjoyed seeing the same species day after day, learning more about their habits and manner of living. You were sketching a local starling that was imitating the sounds of transponder snails - pretty well, actually - when all of a sudden, your ears perked up when you heard alarm calls. It wasn’t a call for mobbing - when smaller birds would form a group to ward off a predatory bird. These were definitely alarm calls - short, high pitched, loud cries to warn their flocks that a predator was near. 

You were excited, this was great news for you. Hearing these calls meant that something big was coming your way. It might be a more common predator, but maybe not. You’d seen a lightning Secretary bird once that caused the exact same alarm cries. You’d barely caught sight of it before it was gone. Another time, the cries alerted you to an ice Roc perched in a tree a little farther down the river. You’d carefully stalked the bird and were able to get a few sketches of it done before it flew away. Those were the rarest ones you’d ever seen, and you were hoping for another. 

Straining your ears listening to the bird cries, you grabbed your sketchbook and followed them towards the source. You crept along as quickly as you could deeper in the forest, silently walking on the sides of your feet. The cries weren’t quieting down, meaning the predator was still in the area. Scanning, you inhaled a gasp as you saw the apex predator at hand. Perched on a branch overlooking the river was a phoenix. A blue fire phoenix, with dark blue almost purple accent markings that made it look like it was wearing glasses. You could barely remember to breathe in its presence.

You stood there agog with your mouth open until the bird moved slightly to shift its feathers. You opened your sketchbook and drew quick sketches of it before you missed your chance. You jotted notes of the colors, wanting to remember exactly what it looked like. Seeing the phoenix was like seeing a god in the flesh. It was a blur of blue flames, ending with wisps of yellow. The movment of its body was like watching the waterfall, endless and yet each moment fleeting at the same time. You could scarcely believe that you were able to see one, much less sketch it. You must have been making too much noise because it looked straight at you despite your hiding spot in the brush.

You weren’t worried about it hurting or killing you - that would be an honor. Well, not really, but you typically found predatory birds disinterested in humans. You kept on sketching even though your hands were shaking. The bird cocked its head to the side and continued to watch you. It almost felt…awkward, like you had intruded on a private moment. After a minute or so it seemed to have gathered whatever information it wanted and flew away. Even watching it leave was magnificent, tail feathers like a chain of golden coins dancing in the wind. When it finally left your sight, you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That was almost orgasmic for you. You rushed to pack up your things so you could go home and sketch with detail and notations before you forgot anything.

On your way back, the only thing on your mind was the phoenix. You thought about its elegance, its restrained power, its understated intelligence. It was the most striking bird you’d ever seen out of the thousands you’d cataloged. You thought more about its coloring, trying to think of the exact shades of blue and yellow you’d use to describe it. But now that you thought about it, seeing a blue fire phoenix was peculiar. Everything you’d heard about phoenixes depicted them as yellow bodied with red accents. But not much was known about any legendary bird so perhaps this one was rarer or maybe hadn’t been discovered yet. It had some kind of marking on its chest - but unfortunately where you were standing obscured your ability to see the marks directly. The glasses markings were a little funny - almost like a spectacled owl. It did give the phoenix a distinctive and distinguished look, like a scholar or a doctor. You were practically skipping with delight towards your home, thinking of all the little details you wanted to remember.

~~~

The next day, you went to work with a smile on your face. Not even the sight of waterfoul in your section could dull your mood today. You’d spent hours sketching and coloring drawings of the phoenix you’d seen, writing every possible memory you had down to preserve it forever. Etta wasn’t in yet - she was starting a shift staggered an hour after yours- but you’d have to tell her about it when you saw her again. Smiling, you walked to the table of waterfoul getting your pad out to take their order. As you got to the table, your smile dropped and your bitch face turned on. You set it to extra sour just for your own fun. 

You looked at the assembled men - you saw two stupid hairstyles, two stupid hats, and one well...there was nothing stupid looking about the last man. He was absolutely gorgeous with black glossy hair set in a classic style and incredible geisha style makeup. Whatever, even if he was good looking he was still a pirate. The man with the stupidest hairstyle smiled warmly at you, like he knew you. You dropped your neutral face into a frown.

“What do you want?” you said in a flat tone.

“Aren’t you supposed to greet customers with a friendly welcome?” said stupid hairstyle two with a smirk. You wanted to dump a cup of water on his pompadour. Or maybe soup.

“Of course! Whatever would you like today, my fair patrons?” you replied in an overly sweet and simpering voice. You even curtsied at the end to hammer the point home. The point being - fuck off. As soon as the words left your lips, you went back to frowning. Pineapple Hair looked at you curiously.

Cowboy hat laughed and said “I’ll start with three steaks, rare. And a beer.” Pineapple Hair, Pompadour, Twirly Mustache and Glamor Man also placed their orders. When they were done, you turned on your heel and went to put in their orders. You attended your other tables and customers, servicing them all while thinking about your phoenix. 

After a while, you saw Etta enter through the staff door. Before she could get to the floor you quickly pulled her to the kitchen. You both spoke excitedly at the same time.

“Guess what - “

“Guess what - “

“You go first,” Etta said, listening intently.

“I saw a legendary bird last night! It was everything I could have ever dreamed of! It was absolutely incredible…I can’t wait to show you the sketches.” Etta was one of the only people you showed your drawings to. You loved the art of drawing but felt self conscious about your ability.

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you,” Etta’s eyes lit up. She always liked when you shared your ornithology information with her and dutifully listened to some of your ramblings..

“What’s your news?” Maybe 2 berri margs were available again tonight?

“So I went out to the bar last night and met someone for a little fun. They’re in town until their log pose resets. I was talking to them for a while and mentioned that you are a real bird expert, not like the shitty tour guides who don’t know anything.” You narrowed your eyes. This wasn’t heading in a direction you liked.

“He’s actually interested in beetles, not birds. But I said that beetles are an important part of several bird’s diets,” she said, hedging around something.

“That’s true, you’ve been listening to my rants,” you said, still on guard. There was something she wasn’t saying and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“So I might have volunteered you to come on a double date with him and his friend birdwatching and looking for beetles,” she said in a rush while starting to steeple her hands in a begging motion.

“What aren’t you telling me? There’s more to it than that.” you asked suspiciously. 

“Uhm. Well, the thing is. They’re pirates -”

“Etta! Oh my god. I knew it was something -”

“No, no listen! Listen. They seem actually nice and reasonable. The one I met yesterday, Ace, was so sweet and hot! I really like him.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod. Pirates? Etta they’ll probably kill us and take our stuff if we go to the woods with them. Or worse.”

“No! They’re like, high ranking pirates, so you know they have to be good.”

“That is not at all what that means.” You crossed your arms, and waved at the little window in the kitchen door that looked into the dining room.

“Look, there’s shitty pirates out there right now. They’ve already annoyed me and it’s only been like half an hour. Think about what a few hours would do to me.” Etta looked out the window. 

“Oh, actually he’s right there! Isn’t he hot?” Etta ducked down so he couldn’t see her.

“Who? Which one?” You really hoped it was Glamor Man, but he didn’t seem outdoorsy. You looked at the table where Cowboy Hat was asleep face down in his food. Could you drown in peas? 

“The one wearing the cowboy hat, that’s Ace. Isn’t he just so fine?” Of course that was the one she liked. He was something alright. Etta was practically drooling. Ace was too. 

“Etta, as my only friend, I have to tell you-”

“Please please please please please please -”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea and I really don’t want to go on a double date with -”

“Please please please please please - I’ll take your shift tomorrow so you have two days off in a row! It’s the weekend too! Just come out with me tomorrow with these guys, please!”

You sighed. You didn’t want Etta to get herself killed, and two days off was very appealing during busy season. You could go camping overnight and see if the phoenix ever returned. 

“Fine. But we’re going on the popular trails and I will absolutely not be kissing any pirate. And you have to roll my silverware tonight.” You barely even cared who you were set up with so you didn't bother to ask. You'd find out tomorrow anyway.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!” Etta squealed and hugged you tightly. You gave a small smile, knowing you’d made your friend happy. And looking for beetles did actually sound like fun. Who knew pirates liked bugs?

[themanicmuse]

Broken Souls| Mollymauk Tealeaf x femReader

Word count: 2262

Summary: During their stay in Zadash the three men of The Mighty Nein have a boy's night where a certain purple Teifling meets an interesting young woman

Warnings: casual alcohol use, mentions of arranged marriage, consensual sex work

a/n: This was originally posted on my ao3 in 2020 as an OC one-shot. I have converted and polished it into my 1st y/n style xreader. Let me know what you think

The warm Zadash air was bustling with the usual energy of a Friday night in the large city. A band of three tipsy men walked through the busy streets, each distinct in their own varieties of strange. One hunched and shuffling, one tall and proud and the third overly confident and swaggering, leading the group. The cocky leader raises a purple hand in front of his companions with a mild flourish, bringing them to a halt.

“Gentlemen, what do you say to us stopping here for a few drinks?” The other two men follow the purple man’s eyes to the sign above the large building.

“Belle’s Boudoir?” The red-headed man said, confusion clear through his noticeable Zamnian accent.

“Just for a drink, right?” The tallest of them states while somehow also questions. The purple man nods lightly, the chains adorning his horns and neck jingle lightly. With a moment of reluctance from the half-orc, the trio enter the establishment.

Two of the men find a seat, bewildered by the numerous scantily clad yet heavily made up women around them as their teifling friend saunters over to the bar. He leans against the countertop, drumming his heavily ringed fingers while waiting to be noticed by the barmaid. After a few minutes of waiting, an attractive but ageing brunette Half-Elf woman makes her way down the bar towards the ostentatiously dressed man.

“Well good evening, handsome,” the woman greets with a flirtatious voice and a bat of her long eyelashes “What can I do you for?” she asks as she gently strokes her thumb over the teifling’s lavender hand.

“Well... well, first tell me your name. I’m sure your name is just as beautiful as your lovely self.” The teifling asks as he places a soft hand on the woman’s.

“Well aren’t you a charming one.” The half-elf answers with a mild blush “My name is Sasha, and yours?”

“Mollymaulk Tealeaf, but my friends call me Molly as shall you now as we are now friends.” Molly replies with a wide fang toothed grin. “So my dear, I would firstly like three ales for myself and my friends over there, and put on a tab under nein, the Zamnian spelling.” Molly nods his head towards the human reading a large book and the handsome half-orc awkwardly trying to reject one of the working girl’s propositions, causing the teifling to wince in second hand embarrassment. The Half-elf hands over three flagons of ale with a small chuckle.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well actually I would like some... private company.” Molly says with a knowing smile and a wink.

“Why of course, Molly, do you have any preference? We have the largest and finest variety in all of Zadash.” Sasha replies, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her long ear.

“If you truly do have the largest selection, and I do fully believe you I do, how about you show me something amazing, something that takes my breath away, something... That I’ve never experienced before.” On the last word Molly lightly taps the counter with the tip of his index finger and a cheerful smirk on his face.

“And what have you seen?”

“I was in the circus game sweetheart, that’s a long fucking list I assure you.”

With a wildly disappointed sigh Sasha leaves to a back room before returning to the teifling. She hands him a key with a small tag with a number on it and instructs Molly to use that room when he has made his choice. With a parting wink the man takes his drinks to the table to join his friends.

“Took ya long enough.” The half-orc said in his strange southern accent quickly taking his drink as Molly shooed away the annoyed working woman as he took the seat she was occupying.

“Yeah sorry, I was doing a little recon on the local customs of this city.” Molly answers with a shrug. As the three men make idle chatter about adventures, magical weapons and spells, the teifling’s eyes scanned the room for a companion worthy of his standards. Eventually his eyes are drawn to a beautiful (h/c) haired girl, adorned in a dress of silky deep greens, almost hiding in the far corner. Molly thanks his wizard friend as he receives a fresh drink, his eyes not leaving the girl for a single second. After realising just observing wasn’t enough for him, Molly abruptly leaves the table and hastily makes his way back to the bar.

“That girl in the corner is she one of yours?’ Molly asks the second he makes eye contact with the barkeep.

“Oh her, yeah she came to us only a few days ago. Is she definitely the one you want?” In response the horned man nods his head vigorously causing his many chains to rattle. “Ok... I’m afraid I can’t tell you how good her services will be since you’re the first to request her. If you’re truly sure, go to the room and I’ll send her up with some ale and food.” Molly replies with a quick nod of thanks before jogging up the stairs.

After removing his boots and heavily embroidered coat, the teifling paced the floor waiting impatiently. When a knock sounds on the door Molly rushed over, quickly composing himself before opening the door. His burning red eyes scanned the form of the girl as she walked in and placed the tray of food on the small table. After closing the door Molly sat on the edge of the bed studying the girl before him.

“My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, but please just call me Molly.” He greets reaching his hand out towards the girl. He watched as the girl glanced between her face and hand, failing to mask the fear and discomfort in her eyes. Eventually She reaches her shaky hand out to meet Molly’s purple one, gasping with shock as she feels the raised remains of many old scars on the teifling’s strong hand.

“Oh don’t worry yourself about them.” Molly says softly as he gently caresses the girl's (s/c) hand. “So, What’s your name beautiful?”

“(y)... I mean. What would you like it to be,” She replied, with a shudder and a tear threatening to escape her (e/c), pupil-less eyes. “S-sexy?”

“Your real name, please.”

“Um... (y/n).” She replied while fiddling with some of her (h/l) (h/c) hair.

“Well that’s a name truly worthy of your beauty. Please, sit down, eat, drink, make yourself more comfortable.” Molly offers with a small smile before getting to his feet. A few seconds later he hears the shuffling of fabric, Molly instinctively turns around to see (y/n) hesitantly slipping her green silk dress off of her body, once the material reached her waist a full pair of wings sprung up and ruffled out. Speckled light brown feathers covered the top while deep grey covered the bottom. Shaking himself out of his shock Molly quickly grabs his coat and hands it to (y/n), trying but failing to avert his eyes, catching a glimpse of the curves of her body and the speckled white of her inner wings.

“I have no intention of doing any of that with you, please cover back up.” Molly says softly as he wraps the coat around her rigid body from behind before guiding her to sit on the bed before turning to face the wall. “I don’t want to see you like that.”

“Oh. I understand.” The soft voice answers behind him. Molly listens with confusion as he hears the soft thud of his coat hitting the bed followed by a rustling of fabric causing him to spin back around.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Molly questioned causing the girl to freeze holding her dress most the way up her body.

“Y-you weren’t pleased with me so I’m going to request someone more suitable for you.” (y/n) answers with a look of both sadness and relief as she walks to the door, her dress now back in place.

“No!” Molly shouts quickly grabbing the girl's delicate wrist with his strong scarred hand stopping her movement “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean Mollymauk?” (y/n) askes, her large (e/c) eyes meeting Molly’s red ones for the first time, filled with caution and confusion.

“When I saw you in the bar,” Molly started with a sigh as he led the confused girl to sit down on the bed next to him. “I knew you didn’t belong here. So I decided to hire you in order to rescue you from that discomfort. So please, eat, drink, nap, whatever you wish to do.” With those words Molly twice taps (y/n)’s hand softly before standing and heading to the door.

“Stay. I want you to, just for a little while.” A voice speaks with confidence for the first time causing a small, soft smile to form on Molly’s lavender lips. The teifling silently sits on the opposite side of the bed, removes his loose shirt, handing it over to (y/n) before laying down with his hands behind his head. Sensing (y/n)’s new found confusion at the new item in her hands.

“I know that dress isn’t comfortable on your wings, that should be big enough to cover you and give your wings some more space.” Molly answers without even opening his eyes.

”Aren’t you going to...”

“Oh please, honey, you are not the first aasimar I’ve met. You are however the first one with feathers so there is that. Anyway just put the shirt on, I promise I won’t peek.” Just as (y/n)  slipped Molly’s large shirt over her shapely body, the room door silently opens.

Back downstairs, after realising that their friend hasn’t been seen for a while, The half-orc warlock Fjord and Caleb the human wizard decide to split up and search the establishment. Caleb quickly climbed the stairs as the handsome Fjord was swarmed by women the moment he’s alone. After checking numerous empty, and some not so empty, rooms he quietly opens the door to room number nine. His eyes are met with the sight of a shirtless Mollymauk laid out on the double bed and a beautiful human-looking girl sitting next to him wearing nothing but Molly’s long white shirt.

“Oh, I-I am so very sorry Molly und your lady company. I did not know, um. I will... I will leave you be. See you later. Ja, good, good bye. Ja, bye.” Caleb apologises as he stumbles over both himself and his words. Spinning around on his heels and walking into the doorframe before finally finding the wide open door somehow remembering to close it behind him. Brushing a mildly charred and calloused hand through his mess of ginger hair as he waits for the horde of women crowding Fjord to disperse.

"Did ya find Molly?" Fjord asked over the heads of the numerus women circling them.

"Oh Ja I did."

"Then where is he?"

"Upstairs being Molly"

Back upstairs (y/n) sits on the bed, her face bright red, hands covering her embarrassment.

“I’m truly so sorry about him my dear. Caleb is impressively unskilled in the social graces.” Molly laughed as he rolled to his feet and picked his coat up from the floor. As if seeing the future, Molly wraps his coat around (y/n) as she shivers “So why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I don’t...”

“I just want to get to know you a little, beautiful.” With that final word a strange warmth floods the aasimar’s body as she feels her trust in the handsome purple devil grows. She looks into Molly’s blood red eyes with a deep sigh as though opening up to an old friend.

“It’s a classic tale I’m afraid. I was promised to a vile old lord. The night before my marriage I realised that I wanted more from my life. I took all the jewels I could carry, spent it all on ship passage to Wildemount. I only discovered that I’d been conned when Sasha took me in in exchange for work. Of course I didn’t know this was the work she meant. So now I’m stuck here until I save up enough gold to start my dream.”

“And what dream would that be?” Molly asks as he takes (y/n)’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her eyes to meet his and leans in closer.

“I want... I want what you have.” With a hesitant yet strangely confident hand, (y/n) gently traces some of the scars on Mollymauk’s bare chest. “Adventure.” Molly looks deep into the girl's beautiful eyes full of hope and wonder for her future. A large smile spreads over the teifling’s face, his tail swinging absentmindedly happy. He stands to his feet, puts his boots on and swaggers to the door.

“Molly, where are you going?”

Molly doesn’t answer, he only flashes her a kind fanged smile.

“I still have your things.”

“You can just give them back to me tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m hiring you for the whole day my dear. I’m going to give you some training, show you the ropes, that kind of thing” Molly instructs as he throws a decently sized bag of gold on the bed. “That’s for the whole night, you can stay here. I’ll be back to get you in the morning.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I’ve always been a sucker for broken souls.”

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Through His Lens

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris wants the world to see his girl the way he does.

Warnings: Fluffy Chris

MASTERLIST

----

"You did not, oh my goodness." My cheeks heated up at Chris' latest post on his Instagram account, he's too sweet for his own good.

There's quite a few photos and videos in this one post, there's photos of me unknowingly twisting my hair around my index finger as I'm nose deep in the paperback book propped up on my lap, another one of me sleeping with my hair sprawled out on my pillow, a video of me fooling around with Scott at Disneyland.

"You even posted the clip of me breaking my ass on the last hike we went on!" My obnoxious laughter filled our bedroom causing Dodger to howl from my sudden outburst.

"That's payback for posting the video of me badly singing in my boxers!"

"That was me simply doing millions of people a favour."

"So you say."

I swiped again, this time it's a photo of him, Dodger and myself on the patio out back and finally a more scandalous photo of me he took. I had on his white shirt from the night before, laying on my stomach, lightly biting down on my thumb as I scrolled through my phone and from the angle it was taken it revealed more than enough cleavage and a sneak peek of my lace covered ass.

"So that's what you've been doing over there all that time? Taking unexpected photos of me." he took my phone and tossed it aside as he rolled on top of me, placing his arms either side of my head.

"I just want everyone to see you the way I do. I wanted them to see the fun, goofy, charismatic, incredibly sexy woman that I'm in a loving relationship with." Chris kissed me a couple times widening my smile with each one.

"You made this Valentine's Day much more special for me this year, I appreciate you not only today but on every single day that goes by Y/N."

"I love you Christopher." I raked my fingers through his beard, enjoying the feel of it against my fingertips.

"I love you more, Happy Valentine's Day bub."

-----

MARVEL Taglist:

@dorks2022 @n3ssm0nique @chrisfucksblog @sophiaedits @peakascum @anonymoustip217 @iiddaaa @mintphoenix @hardcoppizzasludge @panaitbeatrice @tanyaherondale @creatingjana @calimoi @rootcrop @louisianalady @thummbelina @vicmc624 @leyannrae @janaev4ns @queenofkings1212 @believinghurts @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @stumbleonmywords @inas-thing @blackcat420 @badasseddy @spiderlaufeyson @yesimwriting @blondekel77 @4-everm-0-re @sketch-and-write-lover @farfromjustordinary @haoluvver @garbinge @emmamooney @chanaaaannel @moonofheroin @glitch-bitch777 @overly-obsessed-with-you @marvel-swagger @bernthalbabe @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @youarethereasonimsmiling @bookloverfilmoholic @kobababy @mshannah @eliwinchester-barnes @punkdalek @myguiltypleasures21 @louloudeug99 @meowmeowyoongles @stitchattacks @bakingpotatoes21 @lemonlime09 @andrewgarfieldsbae @stitchattacks @inpraizeof @nightmonkeyparker @trinkets01

[achaoticeternal]

the corner i haunt | druig x eternal!reader

DRUIG (ETERNALS) X ETENRAL!READER folklore/evermore series masterlist

Summary: Druig was once the only person you could ever see yourself with, but as the season change... so do we. Word Count: 3k Warnings: Lots of angst, cheating, and oh boy this hurt to write. Characters mentioned include Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Valkryie, and the other Eternals. A/N: based on the song 'Right Where You Left Me' by Taylor Swift and I lovely suggestion I found in the Druig tag. There is potential for a part two, but we shall see.

There were very few constants that could be had in the life of an Eternal. And ever since the group divided as a whole, the list had grown shorter. It was difficult to see your family split ways, but maybe it was what was right after spending millennia together. The tear in your heart after that last night in Tenochiltlan never properly healed as friends and lovers began to drift apart.

Yet you found solace for yourself by consistently seeking out others and spending a few lengths of time in their company. At first, you stayed with Makkari in the Domo as she began to collect some of the greatest treasures known to mankind. But you felt her grow seemingly bored of your presence, so then you traveled to stay with Gilgamesh and Thena in order to bring peace to her scattered mind and serve as support for the great warriors. And luckily, progress had been made in order to create a failsafe plan for when she began to drift away.

After departing them, you joined Phastos who continued to invent fantastic gifts to assist the humans to advance. It warmed your heart to know that even the darker side of man didn't cloud his judgment like others. You were visiting with Sersi and Ikaris when you heard of the bomb in Japan and how your old friend became a broken man. It only added to the weight in your heart.

When you finally caught up with Kingo, he had started his moving picture dynasty in Bollywood. He had even encouraged you to star in something yourself, but that kind of spotlight wasn't something you truly need. When Sprite stopped by to visit you both, you joined her to go back to see the matriarch of the team, Ajak.

"Diane, I hear that you've taken up a new name," Ajak quipped as she set the plates at the table for three.

"The rumor is true. Consider it a... secret identity of sorts?"

"Then," she stood proud and look at you, a smile gracing her face, "what shall I refer to you as?"

You returned her warm smile, feeling accepted, "(Y/N), please"

"Well, (Y/N), let us eat."

But still, across the decades and the centuries, there was the consistent calling to seek out the old flame that still burned bright in your soul - Druig. So in between your travels of the world, you made it a point the journey out to one of the safe havens where he was rumored to be hiding out. There were a few littered around the globe, yet your instincts led you to where he seemed to be waiting.

A chill clung to the air and dared to snip at any exposed skin. Though the land itself was beautiful, you couldn't comprehend why Druig would opt to stay in such extreme climates. Among the rolling hills, you spotted a collection of small cottages and huts with two slightly larger structures in the middle of the village. At last, you could feel his presence again after far too long.

One of your gifted abilities included an improved range of sight along with heightened senses. So when Druig took a step outside of one of the communal halls, it was the final proof you needed. A great wave of emotion surged through you and your feet carried you down the hill towards your old friend. It was a miracle that you didn't trip or simply go tumbling down. As you came closer to him, the excitement got the better of you.

"Druig! DRUIG!" You called out to the man, clad in dark robes.

With a swagger in his step, he turned eyebrows raised in confusion and then hidden bliss, "(Y/N)?"

Finally, when you were close enough, you eased yourself to a stop. Neither of you dared to move or even speak. Instead, you both stood with your feet planted on the ground, basking in each other's presence. A familiar warmth filled your chest, one that had left you cold since the last time your eyes soaked in his features.

In an instant, you were in his arms and it felt like home.

"Oh, (Y/N), my dear, my sweet... my love," he pressed soft kisses to your temples before resting his forehead against your own, "at last."

PRESENT DAY

The Avenger's compound was alive and well with new recruits and various briefings being released. It felt like the good old days before you lost some of the founding heroes, yet it was time to get the ball rolling as the world needed their beloved team back.

After the Blip and fighting Thanos, you swore to serve in the public eye. Though the deviants were killed long ago, Earth still needed defense and protection to preserve human life. It was an honor to be surrounded by humans and other beings who knew your true nature.

"Valkryie, Captain Marvel - it is an honor to bring you both in," you welcomed the women into the facility and led them into a training area.

"I believe the honor is ours, Lady Diana-"

"Please, call me (Y/N) or Diane. I would consider you both friends seeing that we have lived and fought together."

"And is that you would consider me?" A voice asked from behind you.

You turned to face the masculine voice and smiled when you realized who it was, "James!"

Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm hug. The man placed a kiss at the top of your head before releasing you. Remembering where you were, you returned your attention to the original company.

"Well, it is nice to formally meet you, Lutenient Barnes," Carol nodded, holding out her hand to him.

"Call me Bucky," He shook her hand, "You know, it amazes me how the three of you can be so youthful and I look like this at 100."

After the day adjourned, you returned home to your apartment in the city. You were cooking yourself dinner while chatting with Bucky on the phone.

The atmosphere of the walk-up inner-city apartment was the coziest place you had called home in at least the past decade. Your neighbors rarely bothered you and it offered a great little view of the area. Light jazz flowed from the TV speakers as you danced around the kitchen, putting away some dishes before you could take a seat to enjoy your meal.

"Are you sure I can't join you?" He whined through the phone.

"Oh, please, and make Sam even more disgruntled with me? I don't think so. Besides, it's a forty-five-minute drive from your place. Dinner would be cold before you could even hit the city limits."

Despite the playful manner of the conversation, you heard him sigh, "Alright, but after I get back we both need to take a few days off."

"Fine, but-" Then the doorbell rang, interrupting your speech. Your eyes flickered over to the clock on the microwave - 8:23 PM; a perfectly reasonable time for your neighbors to knock or even to receive a late package.

The warm voice in your ear broke you out of the cycle of possibilities, "(Y/N), is everything alright?"

"Of course, someone's just at the door," But the feeling that crept into your stomach and caused goosebumps up your arm raised alarm.

"I don't mind holding on for a second, doll."

Finally, you made your way to the door, "It's probably just the woman across the hall wanting to barrow another egg. You know how she bakes so much and can never count her ingre-"

You pulled open the door to finally reveal the last face you thought you would see standing on your welcome mat. He wore all black, hands tucked into the leather jacket he was sporting. An outfit the could easily blend into modern times. When you finally allowed yourself to look at his face, nothing had really changed and yet your heart still thumped against your chest, "Hello, (Y/N)."

Time seemed to freeze as you soaked up this moment, the atmosphere, the sounds in the background... him, "Druig."

"(Y/N), doll, is everything okay?" Once again, the voice of your current lover reeled you back in as time began to flow normally.

"Bucky, I have to go. I'll call you back later," Not listening to his sounds of protest, you hit the ended call button and shoved your phone into the pocket of your cardigan. Another breath and moment of examining him and the chill that sat at the back of your neck, "Um... uh- come in. I was just about to sit for dinner."

The two of you sat on your couch, a lone cushion serving as the wall between you. It had been quite a few moments since either of you said anything and the tension only continued to choke at you both. It didn't really matter to try and catch up or ask how he found you. Honestly, you didn't care for the answer. All you really wanted or needed to know was why he suddenly popped back up.

"Could I have some water?" He asked, finally breaking the stillness.

Without a word, you staggered over to your kitchen. Pulling a glass from the cupboard, you filled the glass with the water from your fridge as your mind begged you to speak and say something. You didn't want small talk, or to catch up - no, you needed answers.

Walking back over to the living space, you handed off the glass to him. He nodded in appreciation and expected you to return to your previous position. But when he didn't feel the couch dip, he looked up to see you frozen. It stayed like that for a breath.

"Druig, why are you here?"

"Because I m-"

"Don't say that," Your eyes bore into his own in an attempt to solve the puzzle that you once knew the complete picture of.

"What? I can't tell you that I've mi-"

"That's right. You can't tell me that, because you lost the privilege to speak those words to me after what you did."

"Oh, (Y/N), please. That was decades ago," He finally stood to your level as a defense, "you can't st-"

"I can't what? Still, be mad? Still, be hurting? Still feel stuck and- and incomplete because the one person I thought would never abandon me did just that. No, Druig, I can and still feel that betrayal."

The room fell silent again. Druig knew the select his next words carefully if he didn't want to end up with a knife at his throat. He knew the abrupt end of your last meeting wasn't ideal, but some twisted part of him expected you to just get over it. Then again, he was just twisting his dream of you to fit his ideal reality.

His eyes flickered to the chain on your neck and the little gemstone that sat in the silver encasing. With a deep breath, he stood a little taller, "Do you remember when I returned that necklace to you after you lost it in Rome?"

"Yes," You reached up to the pendant, taking it in between your fingers, "because it was the night you left."

1908, Paris

"That was an absolutely stellar performance, I still can't believe the talent that these people possess!" Your face beam as Druig and you took a seat inside the quaint cafe, just a few blocks between your apartment and the opera.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it," He smiled, taking your hand into his own, "It is refreshing to see humans create instead of destroy."

Only a moment later, a server was at your table, "Que voulez-vous boire?"

"Un verre de vin blanc s'il vous plait," You nodded to the waiter and nodded to Druig who asked for the same.

A pause fell between the pair of you, but it wasn't out of place. You often paused to admire Druig as he was one of the few people who could never bore or tire you. Usually, you could read Druig like a book, but recently you couldn't tell what ran through his mind. The move to Paris, the open gestures, going to the Opera and the Ballet - these were all wonderful gifts but why now?

Neither of you had been particularly materialistic or felt the urge to lead a 'normal' human life. So this series of events stuck out to you, but you had just dismissed it for Druig feeling inclined to be more outright with his feelings for you.

"Do you recall the years we all spent in Rome?"

Druig never brought up their family, so it was a shock when he mentioned them. Their time in Rome was interesting as they saw how men took over empires of the past, only to later have the same fate upon them.

"Of course, I do. It was so long ago and yet still only seems like yesterday we walked up marble stairs," You added, lightly squeezing his hand to provide some peace of mind.

"Well, before we came to this city, I returned to where the great empire once stood. Sort of a stroll down memory lane and I was visiting the markets," The hand that was not resting in your darted into his pockets in search of something, "It's funny how our presence impacts such places and inspires mythology. While I was exploring the booths, a man showed me a piece and said that it once belonged to a pair of great friends and lovers in other versions. A necklace said to be gifted from Orion to Diana, goddess of the hunt."

From his pocket, he drew out a necklace with a long silver chain and at its heart, a precious stone from Mt. Olympia.

"Druig, I- I can't believe you found it!" He stood from his seat and treaded behind you to clasp the chain around your neck. As he adjusted it to sit finely on your chest, a pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your neck.

Moments later and the waiter returned with two glasses of wine, setting them in front of the pair of you before scampering off again. This night was absolute perfection.

"(Y/N), my dear," You gave him a look to continue as you raised the glass to your lips, "I'm leaving."

The news was sudden but you still had some composure, "well, when will you be back?"

"I-I don't know when I'll be back because I... I'm sorry but I met someone while in Rome and I can't- (Y/N), I'm sorry but I laid with her. And every day since I've returned I look into your eyes knowing what I've done and it's breaking me. I'm no better than a man."

Your glass had crashed to the table, spilling its contents and chipping the edges. At that time your voice couldn't muster a sound, let alone a single word. Tears began to streak down your cheeks but no cry followed. There was only pain and a broken heart.

"I- Goodbye, my (Y/N)," He began to make his way to the door of the cafe, but then glanced back as if taking one last look, "Goodbye, my love."

There you sat and stayed for hours, the server coming over to check on your periodically. When the cafe closed, he kindly escorted you out and bid you a safe night. The days, the weeks, and the years following that moment were all the same; you would walk the city and then sit at the cafe until closing, praying that he would walk back through the door and be there.

After some time, you had grown to be a legend in the city. The tale of a widow who sat at the cafe, longing for her husband to return home. Except you never were a wife, and there never would be a complete ending. You didn't leave Paris until Ikaris came during the Second World War to pry you from the ghostly routine.

"He's gone, (Y/N). No one has heard from him or about him. Let me take you home to Ajak," And with that, you left your beloved city of Love and left a ghost of you there.

PRESENT DAY

The apartment had grown colder and you knew that the long-forgotten food on the counter went with it. A solemness had replaced the tension in the air as all you could do was bask in the pain and the yearning. It drove you mad how he still had an effect on you.

"You kept me waiting. And that time I spent there felt longer than my time on Earth. So I'm sorry if I am still hurting," Your lips quivered as you turned away from him, resting your head in your palms.

The silence was deafening. What did he expect to happen whenever he decided to pop back into your life? To be met with open arms and forgiveness for his actions?

"I know that leaving you was the worst thing I could have done. I not only did it once... but twice," Druig took a deep breath, an attempt to keep himself from breaking his cool demeanor, "but I don't want to be on this Earth without you. It is the one thing that brings peace to my ever-running mind, and I can't go on knowing that you hate me."

A pause fell again as you soaked in his words. What could you go? Where could you go from here? You had barely just begun living again and now you felt incomplete again.

You looked up to see that he stood in the opposite corner of the room, facing the window. Though you couldn't see his face, you simply sensed the tears and heartache that surrounded him. You picked yourself up and trodded behind him, placing a hand on his leather-clad shoulder.

"Druig," Your hand traveled down his arm, only stopping when your fingers intertwined with his, "I could never hate you."

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

[calaofnoldor]

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​

TEAM SQUIRREL: @deanwinchesterswitch​ @deandaydreaming​

[whitexwingedxdoves]

Condemned.      [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Warning: swearing, talks of non - con & violence unrequited love Summary: You accepted Negan’s offer to become his wife to save Daryl’s life. You didn’t expect him to develop real feeling’s for you. Prompts: “you don’t even exist to me” & “ask me again why I could never love you” A/N:  My first Negan story, ahhhh. I definitely  have some ideas for Negan, so I guess this is me testing it out first. Thank you to who ever requested this <3 She’s a short one. edit, im really sorry for not including non con before. :(

Another week had passed in the sanctuary, you wore the same stupid black dress you wore every day. You were waiting in your room, waiting for Negan to come by. He had given one of the workers strict instructions to keep you there until he arrived. You sat on the armchair that sat in the corner of your room, bouncing your foot up and down, chewing on your thumb a little. The other wives told you the horror stories of their first nights here and every night after that. That despite not wanting to, he would have his way with them… claimed it was consensual because they agreed to be his wife. The thought caused your stomach to knot up more. You were surprised when Negan didn’t make a pass at you the first night, like the world granted you a small amount of good karma in the midst of all the shit you were in but you grew more and more suspicious as the weeks went on and still he had yet to lay even a finger on you.

You felt your heart stop for a moment when you heard the door knob turn. Watching carefully as Negan pushed his way past his worker and the door. He held such a sinister smirk as he swaggered into your room. He stopped in the middle of the room to drink in your figure, using his tongue to pull his bottom lip, Lucille proudly propped against his shoulder. You grimaced at the way his eyes were violating your body, instantly making you feel sick. Negan turned to shut the door, so there was only you and him alone in the room.

“You know,” his words broke the awkward silence as he took a seat on the armchair that sat opposite yours. “When I first saw you, all I could think was DAMN! What a tight piece of ass!'' His laughter that spilled through his words made you shift uncomfortably, attempting to keep yourself as modest as possible in the short black dress. “Then, you surprised me! While everyone else cried their sorry little souls out, you didn’t. Not a single tear” his words took you right back to the night he had you and your people captive, the way he played with everyone’s emotions so carelessly as he killed people you loved. “I was impressed.” He added, now leaning forward to cause the gap between you to grow shorter.

“No, instead you just tore a hole right into my soul” his sarcasm made you snarl, his hand resting on his chest before letting out a small laugh. His hand raised to his face, stroking his beard as he sucked on his own teeth. “Now look at you! Sat there, all pretty to keep some redneck safe” you weren’t a stranger to his mocking, the way he talked about your family made it feel like lava flowed through your veins and he knew that. “You know, I thought you were just gonna be another hot piece of ass that I could have my way with” you noticed how he licked his lips hungrily “but you’ve grown on me Y/N '' he added, leaning back into his chair. “I was actually thinking about letting the other girls go… so you could have me all to yourself” his eyebrow cocked up a little as he thought of the image of you two standing side by side. He didn’t know how you did it but you managed to get a great big hold of his heart, despite the obvious hatred you held for the man.

You couldn’t help but snigger at his words, the thought of you ever being in a real relationship with this man was by far the funniest joke you had heard since the end of the world. “You think I’d be able to love you?” your tone becomes even more sinister as you watch the expression on his face change. This was the first time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you and he instantly regretted it. You threw your head back, allowing yourself to laugh a little more.

“Why is that so funny?” his eyes seemingly turning black at the sound of your laughter. His teeth grinding against each other as he held back his anger. His words, causing more laughter, shaking your head you came back down to his level, staring straight into his eyes.

“You don’t even exist to me” you spat at him, snarling. You could see his face turning red slightly, you couldn’t deny the fear you felt in that moment, the look he shot you only screamed murder. He pushed himself off his chair and left the room.

Sat in silence for a moment trying to comprehend what had just happened. The audacity of this man, confessing his feelings for you while holding you hostage. You didn’t have much time to think as your door swung open again, causing you to rise to your feet. Your eyes welled up at the sight of Daryl being thrown to the ground by Negan. You watched as his fist repeatedly hammered into the archer's face before you could even step a foot forward, Dwight had his hands wrapped around your arms, stopping you from interfering. He just made you watch as Negan kicked and punched Daryl, blood spilling from the various cuts he already had on his face. Finally he stopped and looked up at you, you managed to pull away from Dwight’s grasp. Kneeling down next to Daryl, attempting to comfort him in some way. You couldn’t hold back your tears as they poured down your cheek, some crashing onto the injured southerner. You allowed your glace to trace up to Negan, pure disgust in your face as he looked down on you.

“Ask me again why I could never love you”

[bad268]

Misfits (iNoToRiOuS X Reader)

Fandom: RPF

Requested: Bonus day of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Language.

Pronouns: She/her

W.C. 411

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2022 Materlist

~~

“Hello, and welcome back to the Misfits podcast. Rated five stars on iTunes by ScottyB, ‘This shit slaps harder than my dad.’ Wow, um that’s great?” Fitz introduced the podcast before everyone broke into laughter. “Today I am joined by Mason aka Zuckles, Matt aka INotorious, Tobi aka Toby on the Tele and Swagger aka Swagger Souls. We also have a guest this episode: Y/N aka Matt’s girlfriend!” Everyone responded when they were announced and cheered at the very end.

“Alright, shut the hell up. I can’t hear,” I laughed, adjusting my headphones. “Okay, why am I here?”

“I think we all have the same question,” Swagger started, “Are you gonna be at Pax Aus this year?”

“That wasn’t what I want to know!” Mason interjected.

“Well, I will be there, technically. Not at a creator, but I’ll be there,” I responded to Swagger. “Also, Mason, I’m here for an hour, so I can still answer you.”

“Mason, wait your turn, and we’ll get there,” Tobi lectured, pointing their vape at Mason with a glare.

“Nah, I wanna know why you date Matt. Like that’s fucking weird, mate,” Mason laughed as he took a drink from his GamerSups bottle.

“Hey, what the fuck? Is this an interrogation or something?” Matt spoke up, looking around the table.

“Jokes on you, I don’t know what that fucking means!” Mason shouted.

“Maybe it’s because he is smart and funny, unlike you lot,” I mumbled but they all heard me loud and clear. They all erupted into disputes while Matt just laughed in response.

“Okay, listen here you fucking bitch-” Mason started.

“And on that note back to Pax Aus!” Fitz shouted over Mason. “Does that mean you’re going as a fan or with Matt?”

“Obviously going with Matt, but that does not mean I’m hanging around you guys the whole time. I’m going to different panels.”

“Why aren’t you going as a creator? Like you in a lot of iNoT's videos. It doesn't make sense for you to not attend as a creator,” Swagger retorts.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do not have a YouTube channel,” I admitted. Everyone, minus Matt, let out a collective gasp. “Yeah, I just show up in videos, but I do not have the will to make my own. I’ll leave that to you guys.”

“Ah, thanks! Less competition!” Mason laughed loudly.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Mason!” Tobi also yelled as they rolled their eyes.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2022. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

The Last Dream of my Soul pt. 5 (R.L.)

Hello!!! The newest part has arrived and i hope you all enjoy it! Also. I am aware that hippogriffs are a third year lesson but pleaseeeee just pretend it makes sense...

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary:  The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friends Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2.2k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The two weeks at home were rough. As excited as you were to return to the place that you grew up, you soon came to the realization that Hogwarts and the wizarding world were your true home. As much as you loved your parents and the creaky floor of your old bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. And as much as your parents loved you, they could never understand you.

But still, you enjoyed Christmas dinner and watching your old favorite shows on the television. Despite this though, you were near tears every night when you thought of your friends and the old castle walls of your school. You missed them immensely.

You were at a great disadvantage as you did not own an owl. Luckily, your friends sent plenty of letters, and you held their birds hostage until you could scribble out a response.

You received the most letters from Lily. She related to your feelings of feeling out of place in the muggle world. It was made worse for her by her sister, Petunia. Petunia was jealous of Lily to a near disturbing extent. It made your best friend’s time at home miserable.

You received one letter from Peter on Christmas. It was a simple letter that mostly just wished you a happy holiday, but nevertheless, it made you smile.

From Sirius and James, you received joint letters as they were both staying at the Potter’s house for Christmas. The letters detailed all of the mischief they got up to and they never failed to make you laugh. You’d always send back a letter reprimanding them but also subtly egging them on.

Remus’s letters were your favorite. He wrote to you relatively often, describing his family and what he was reading. You did the same, raving about the book that he had gifted you. You loved the way he wrote his letters. It was almost like poetry. You weren’t surprised though. How could someone spend their whole life reading and not have a way with words?

But despite the comfort that the letters brought you, you couldn’t help but wish that the words could be spoken in person instead.

But soon enough the time came for you to return to your real home and greet your chosen family. In a flurry of brotherly hugs and high pitched squeals, you said hello to Lily and the marauders with a grin stretched ear to ear.

As excited as you were to return to Hogwarts, the return to lessons was less exciting. Soon, you were once again drowning in school work and waiting for a chance to breathe. Classes were beginning to pick up and become more challenging, and you were doing your best to scrape by.

“Hey (Y/n),” Sirius said, catching your attention as you walked to your care for magical creatures class.

“Yes, Sirius?” you inquired.

“Have you finished the transfiguration essay yet?” he asked. You smirked at him.

“Are you asking because you’re curious or because you want to copy it?” you asked teasingly. Sirius groaned.

“Oh sod off (Y/n),” he retorted, shoving your shoulder. You yelped as he d pushedyou a tad too hard and braced yourself, preparing to hit the ground. Instead, you felt strong hands grab your arm.

“You okay?” Remus asked as he helped you steady yourself.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you said breathlessly, your arm burning from his touch. You sent the concerned boy a quick smile before turning to face Sirius. You punched him quickly in the shoulder.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

“That’s what you get for assaulting me,” you retorted and you heard Remus chuckle from your left.

“Yeah yeah I’m sorry,” Sirius said, waving his hands in the air. You smiled, satisfied, and skipped the rest of the way to class.

When you arrived at the forbidden forest Professor Kettleburn stopped the group at the edge of the woods.

“Now students, we have a very special lesson today,” he explained to your peers. You danced on your toes in excitement. You loved care for magical creatures, enough to take it in your N.E.W.T.S years, and you were excited at the prospect of an exciting lesson. Sirius shifted impatiently on his toes, having only taken the course for an easy E, while Remus smiled at your antics.

“Today we will be in the presence of one of our realms' most compelling creatures,” Professor Kettleburn continued mysteriously. A smile spread its way across your face as you waited for him to reveal the creature. Professor Kettleburn led his herd of students into the forest, pausing a few paces in. He pushed back a branch of a large, sweeping tree, to reveal a herd of creatures. You felt your mouth drop open in astonishment. You turned to Remus, a wide smile adorning our features.

“Hippogriffs,” you whispered excitedly. Remus smiled at you, nodding in affirmation.

Professor Kettleburn walked to stand before the class.

“The hippogriff is an incredibly unique creature. Its front half bears the resemblance of an eagle, while it’s back half is one of a horse. The hippogriff’s closest relative is the griff, a creature that is half lion and half horse. The Hippogriff is also an especially proud creature. Can anyone tell me the proper etiquette for greeting such an animal?” the professor asked. You did not hesitate to shoot your hand into the air.

“Yes, Miss (L/n),” he said, calling on you.

“When approaching a hippogriff, the proper thing to do is to bow and wait for the hippogriff to do the same. You wait for the creature to approach you, and you must maintain eye contact,” you explained, almost reciting the textbook exactly.

“Very good,” the professor replied with a smile. Professor Kettleburn rambled on for a few more minutes, describing the deity habits and the ideal habitats for hippogriffs. You excitedly listened to him, soaking up every bit of knowledge that you could. You could hear some boys in your year laughing, mocking your professor’s eccentric habits, and you turned to glare at them. The group’s ringleader, Rodolphus Lestrange, turned and glared back at you, sending you an unflattering gesture.

Eventually, Professor Kettleburn clapped his hands together and stopped talking.

“Now,” he began, “who would like to be the first to greet the hippogriff?” Your hand immediately went up, waving back and forth through the air. You heard Sirius and Remus laugh at your behavior from either side of you.

“Okay Miss (L/n), please step forward,” the professor said as he motioned you towards him. He gave you a quick rundown of how you were to approach the creature, before sending you off with a quick pat on the shoulder.

You approached the creature and admired its beauty. It's gorgeous storm grey coat glistened under the late afternoon sun and its eyes were a brilliant shade of orange. You stopped about six feet in front of the creature before bowing, maintaining strong eye contact the entire time. After a beat, the hippogriff bowed as well. You smiled widely as you stood, awestruck by the creature before you. You stepped forward with your hand outstretched.

“Hello, you beautiful creature,” you spoke softly. The hippogriff leaned towards your hand before nuzzling his beak into it. You caressed his beak and gently carded your hands through its feathers. After a few minutes, Professor Kettleburn ushered you back. You reluctantly bowed to the creature before scurrying back to your friends.

When you returned, Sirius patted you on the back.

“Good job (Y/n). I would’ve been scared the thing was going to rip me to shreds,” he said. You shook your head at him.

“Oh come on, it’s a gentle creature,” you said. Remus grimaced from beside you.

“Yeah but one wrong move and it tears you to shreds,” he said quietly. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction?” you asked. Remus opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the professor.

“Now who else would like to greet our friend?” he asked the class. Before anyone could respond, Rodolphus strutted up the front. The professor leaned over to go over the proper etiquette, but Rodolphus just waved him off. You frowned.

“This is not going to end well,” you mumbled to yourself. Rodolphus swaggered up to the hippogriff, giving him a shallow bow. The hippogriff hesitated but eventually bowed in return. Rodolphus walked up to the creature, his first mistake, and immediately reached in to touch it. The hippogriff flinched, which caused Roldophus to say something to him. You could not quite make out what he said, but it angered the hippogriff. He reared his head and lunged towards the boy. The students around you began to scream and run away. Professor Kettleburn lunged forward, trying to get the student out of the hippogriff’s path. Remus grabbed your arm, attempting to pull you away, but you broke free from his grasp and headed in the opposite direction. You heard him shout after you as you ran towards the creature but you ignored him. Professor Kettleburn was attempting to keep the creature at bay while Rodolphus tried to crawl away. You approached the creature and tried to get its attention.

“Don’t waste your energy on him,” you shouted at the animal. It paid you no mind.

“You’re a magnificent creature! You have no business having to deal with someone like him!” you shouted. “You’re too good for him!”

After hearing the compliment, the hippogriff turned towards you. His orange eyes still glinted with aggression and his body was tense. Rodolphus got up and sprinted away. You quickly bowed, trying to appease the creature. It huffed and shook off Professor Kettleburn’s hand. You stayed in the same position, maintaining eye contact with the creature. You silently pleaded with it to calm down. Eventually, the hippogriff lowered its head in return, the aggression leaving its eyes. You waited for him to approach you before tentatively touching his beak. The air was thick with anticipation as your peers watched you, all of them scared for your safety. After a beat, the creature nuzzled into your hand, causing you to let out a sigh of relief. Professor Kettleburn came up behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder. He ushered you back towards the other students, before dismissing class for the day.

“Okay children, that’s enough excitement for today. Feel free to head back to your dorms,” he stated, shooing you all with his hands.

You pushed through the crowd towards your friends. You were immediately wrapped into a strong hug. Sirius released you after a moment, a wide smile across his face.

“Godric you scared me half to death!” he exclaimed. “But that was wicked!” You smiled at his words. You turned towards Remus, hoping to see him smiling as well. But when he came into view, he looked the opposite of happy. His face was hard and cold and his arms were crossed stiffly over his chest.

“Remus what’s wrong-”

“How could you be so stupid,” he asked angrily, cutting you off in the process. You blinked at him, confused.

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly.

“Do you not realize what you just did? You approached that- that monster! And you practically begged him to attack you!” he yelled. You flinched at his words.

“He’s not a monster,” you responded, your voice wavering. Remus frustratedly ran his hands through his hair.

“Yes he is! Yes he is (Y/n)! But just can’t see it,” he exclaimed. Confusion filled your features.

“Remus I-”

“No. You do not get to speak. You can’t just go around and expect things like that- monsters- to not hurt you,” he yelled. Your face hardened.

“Remus I am perfectly capable of handling myself!” you yell back, anger coursing through your veins.

“No, you’re not! You’re too naive,” he responded angrily.

“I am not naive and you do not get to talk to me like I’m a child,” you yelled back. Remus just shook his head.

“One day, you’re going to try and tame the wrong creature and you’re going to get hurt. You don’t understand these things,” he said, quieter than before. He takes one last look at you before turning on his heel and storming off towards the castle.

You watch him leave, tears forming in your eyes. Your anger had dissipated, leaving only sadness and confusion in its wake. Remus had never spoken to you like that before. He had always been soft and sweet, the opposite of the man who had just screamed at you. You turn towards Sirius, who’s shocked expression matched yours.

“What was that all about?” you asked Sirius, who was avoiding your eyes. He sighed.

“Remus is going through some things right now,” was his only response. You scoffed through your tears.

“And how does that give him the right to speak to me like that?” you countered. Sirius kicked a pebble on the ground.

“It doesn’t. But just give him time,” was his reply. You shook your head, begging the tears to stay at bay. You quickly turned and stalked back to the castle.

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

Taglist:

@goosegorl​​ @serenefreakgeek​​ @blueflame2778​​ @thegirlthatsfalling​​ @glimmering-darling-dolly​​ @calmspencer​​ @therustictea​ @florenceivy​ @peachyblue​ @blackpinkdolan​ @killerqueenishere​ @lotties-journey-abroad​

[starrynite7114]

the way you love me: part one

A/N: YA GIRL IS BACK. This time with a different type of story! It’s going to be a Rio/Reader/Angel story! I’ve had this in the back burner for quite some time, but I’m glad I can finally share it with you all. I was listening to ‘I Love The Way You Love Me’ by Boyzone, yes, I love the oldies. LOL But anyway, I wanted to share this with you all! Let me know what you think! 

Also, let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Hope you all are having a good start of the week thus far!

Snapshots is almost done and will be posted on Wednesday! WOOOOH!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Masterlist

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic​ : @ifoundmyhappythought​ : @carlaangel86​ : @woahitslucyylu​ : @encounterthepast​ : @enamoured-x​ : @thewarriorprincessxo​ : @briana-mishell24​ : @bribri-82​ : @chibsytelford​ : @agirllovespasta​ : @twistnet​ : @everyhowlmarksthedead​ : @trulysuccubus​ : @jadert15​ : @sammskellington​ : @cind-in-real-life​ :  @onmyspookysblock​ : @sadeyesgf​ : @thickemadame​ : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass​ : @gemini0410​ : @elcococruz​ : @samcrobae​ : @sesamepancakes​ : @iambabyharry​ : @blackmissfrizzle​ : @mrs-losa​ : @1-800-imagines​ : @phoenixhalliwell​ : @lady-pswrld​ : @dazzledamazon​  : @getyourcrayoncas​ : @fvckthisbxtchup​ : @lukealvxz​ : @scuzmunkie​ : @lilac-tea-time​ : @danie1432​ : @cocotheclown​ : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @buttercup812​ : @un-poetryy​ : @angelreyesgirl​ : @sheeshgivemeabreak​ : @vicmackeybullshxt​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ : @khyharah​ : @strawberrywritings​ : @cherry-icetea​ : @fuzzy-jellyfish​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @brownsugarcoffy​ : @courtrae89​ : @prdsdjarin​ : @blessedboo​ : @marvelmaree​ : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ : @thesandbeneathmytoes​ : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind​ : @maddie-georges​ : @pearlkitten33​ : @aquamento​ : @incorrect-mcdanno​ : @that-chick212​ : @imanerdychubbyqueen​ : @60shannon​ : @deeandbobbymcgee​ : @rebel-without-cause-x​​ : @marquelapage​ : @justlikebreathing​

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Your adoptive father, Bishop questioned as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress was breathtaking, the veil was lace, covering your made up face, a natural look was what you requested. This was going to be the happiest day of your life. You were marrying the man you love and you could not wait to meet him at the altar.

But why did this feeling of dread rested at the pit of your stomach?

“Of course,” your eyes met his eyes through the mirror. “I love him.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Dad, I appreciate it I do, but what’s done is done. He made his choice and we all have to live with it. Not like it matters to me what he chose, but I’m happy for him.” You managed to smile through the pain. The wound was fresh, but that was to no surprise.

“Do you want me to kill Angel?” Bishop has offered this to you numerous times and you always laughed it off even though you knew he was absolutely serious.

“No, of course not, you know he’s your favorite shithead.”

Bishop had to smirk at that. “He is, but you’re my little girl.”

When you were four years old, your parents died due to a tragic accident. Ironically enough, they were riding your father’s motorcycle and a car came out of nowhere and hit them. 

Drunk driver.

Typical story.

Due to that, Bishop gained sole custody of you. Your parents had no other family, at least none that they wanted you to stay with. So you were left to the care of your father’s best friend, Obispo Losa.

You left Santo Padre years ago, but five months ago, you came back to accompany your fiancé, Christopher ‘Rio’ Vasquez.

Five Months Earlier

You let out a yawn as the captain announced that you would shortly be landing. After you left California five years ago, you had no intention of coming back. Too many memories of heartache and tears that you much rather not deal with. 

But Rio insisted you came with him.

“Take a vacation with me.” You remembered him asking you and you wanted to laugh. California was hardly a vacation.

Okay, it was, you just didn’t like that you were going to Santo Padre. Of all the fucking places that Rio’s cousin lived, it had to be Santo Padre? But it’s been years, Angel Reyes was just part of your memories now.

===============

You frowned as Angel sat across from you, hands folded on the table. You two were at an impasse. Everyone in the club knew you two were together. Hell, Angel made it known so no one would even try to make a move on you.

But outside that little bubble, Angel treated you like a stranger.

It was the same bullshit anyone doing shady shit would say.

“I’m trying to protect you, you are my girl, not everyone has to know it.”

But they do.

Because you felt like you were there out of convenience, that Angel only came to you when he wanted someone and it was the truth. Your interactions were limited at the comforts of the clubhouse and your homes. Otherwise, it was as if you two were hardly friends.

This has been ongoing for three years and as optimistic as you wanted to be. The endless fights and empty promises has broken you.

“I’m done.” You told Angel. “Though, you can't be done with something that was never there.”

“Babe, don’t do this, come on. I’ll try to be better, this is for you.” And it was true. This was Angel’s greatest fear that someone would realize how important you were to him and hurt you, he couldn’t live with that. 

“Right, so that girl on your lap was all for show.” You scoffed. “So when you kissed her at the privacy of our inner circle, it was for show?”

Angel sighed. “You know I love you.”

“You have such a great way of showing it.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go, there’s nothing for me here.”

“What about me? What about us?” Angel felt that he was losing you quickly and there was nothing he could do.

But it wasn’t quickly, this was years in the making.

“I’m not your girl, remember?” You reminded him of that painful statement you heard him utter at the clubhouse when you decided to surprise him.

Well, he could be single now. 

You were done.

===============

“You okay mama’s?” You heard Rio check, breaking you away from your thoughts. 

You turned to face him, reaching over to kiss him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m excited for you to meet my family.” Rio kissed the back of your hand. “They’ll love you, maybe not as much as me, but they will.”

“Well, I can’t wait for you to meet my family here.” You beamed. Bishop has met Rio, since he always came to see you during the Holidays.

‘We’ve spent the holidays together since you were born, nothing is going to change that.’

He would always tell you and you loved him for that. Even though you lost your parents, you never felt the loneliness since you always had Bishop. 

And Taza.

And Hank.

And Riz.

And Creeper.

And Coco.

And Gilly.

And somehow, even Angel. 

“Am I gonna meet the infamous ex as well?” Rio was not an insecure man. He knew that you love him and he loves you. Whoever this man was, he would never win you back. Rio would put a bullet in between his eyes first. 

You never told Rio his name, Angel was never your boyfriend.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Right, fuck buddy or whatever.” Rio chuckled, his drawl was always such a turn on for you. The way he spoke, that tone, the voice, he was so much. “Doesn’t matter mama, you have me now.” He kissed your inner wrist, smiling against your skin.

Rio was a man you met while you were at your job as a bartender. After moving out of Santo Padre, you didn’t stay in California, you moved to the East Coast. You were done and you didn’t want to linger in California. You changed your number and everything. 

It was difficult. You didn’t want to leave your father, but he knew what you had to do. He offered to remove Angel from the club, but you refused. The club was all that Angel had, and yet again, you made the sacrifice for him 

But it was the last one.

You were done with that part of your life after all. 

Rio was a persistent man. When he wanted something, he pursued it till he got it. And that’s what he did to you. At first, you thought maybe he was a flirt, but you realized it wasn’t like that at all. Every night women would try to catch his attention, but it was always solely focused on you. You always thought it was due to the fact you were serving him drinks, but that was hardly the case.

===============

“So when are you giving me your number mami?” Rio questioned before he took a drink of his usual poison.

“My number?” You laughed. “What would you want with that? You got a job for me?”

This man was too damn good looking. The voice, the swagger, the aura and those fucking tattoos, it was making you forget your vow of avoiding the bad boys. 

Though, you were assuming since for all you know, he might be a doctor or or something. 

“I was hoping for more of a date, but if getting you a job gets me a date, say no more beautiful.” He smirked, that devilish smirk that made your knees weak.

===============

Rio held your hand as you two made your way inside the restaurant. You were surprised that he didn’t take you to the AirBnB he rented out for you, himself and Mick. Though he didn’t bring Mick for the family dinner. Rio reasoned that he had other businesses to attend to while the two of you handled family business.

You two stopped at a table and your heart stopped.

At that moment, you wanted the ground to swallow you up. This was not fucking happening.

“Tio Felipe,” Rio greeted Felipe, momentarily letting go of your hand.

Your eyes landed on Angel, who tried his best to remain cool. 

“Angel, Ezekiel,” he nodded his head at the two Reyes men. “This is my fiancé, Y/N.”

Angel’s mouth dropped upon seeing you again, and his heart clenched when he saw the diamond ring on your left fourth finger.

This wasn’t possible.

Of all the women in the world.

You were Rio’s fiancé.

You felt your world shrink around you. Rio’s family in Santo Padre were the Reyes’.

Small fucking world.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 04

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of jealous werewolf!Jaebeom and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There are a lot of extraordinary people in the world, but you often don’t find them remarkable until you happen to stumble upon  and talk to them. The wolfish man holding tightly onto my hand, his arm draped across my shoulders, as we swagger over the pavement to his home above Paper Souls is such a curious person.

The good hour he dozed off hasn’t helped his sickly state. Even though he was nestled comfortably against me, occasionally a pained delirious whine fell from his panting lips as his features turned into a grimace. Upon waking, Jaebeom tried to dismiss his symptoms as nothing to worry about, but I insisted on getting him home as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry I ruined our outing,” he murmurs, voice strained. As we ascend the stairs to his apartment, he keeps his head bent low to focus on his steps.

Step by step. One foot before the other. There you go.

“It’s not your fault you got sick,” I reply, keeping a close eye on his movements to offer additional support if needed.

He turns his head to me, a few long black locks partially concealing the sweat on his brow. For a moment, it seems as if he wants to protest yet decides against it. Henceforth, what I get in reply is a hum resigning in the notion it’s indeed not his fault.

Is your condition causing this?

The question burns hot on the tongue, but I swallow it down. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk about it properly sometime in the future. 

The day we know each other.

We make it to the top, albeit not effortlessly since I have to steady him when he almost trips on the last step. Panic and instinct rush through me when Jaebeom threatens to topple over, so I act quickly and shoulder more of his weight after clumsily steadying us both on the narrow staircase. 

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask, out of breath. The adrenaline of the potential danger has spent whatever energy I had, the muscles in my limbs melted.

“I will be,” he weakly answers. 

I gently let his arm glide from my shoulders, the removal of the weight simultaneously a relief and a missed presence. The attempt at letting him stand on his own feet is successful, although his hand shakes as he unlocks the front door.

The feverish fingers glide from the doorknob to entwine with mine once more before his tongue runs over my lips again. Despite this being the third time it happens, it still doesn’t fail to bewilder me nor bring a boyish smirk to his face when I look at him, speechless.

“Thanks. Today nice. I-,” he starts up and averts his gaze to the side, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “I mean, today was nice.”

I put my hand on the side of his face, gently compelling him to look at me. A cheeky idea rises in my mind, tempting me to go against my very nature.

Which I do.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I close my eyes and give him a peck on the cheek. The action surprises us both because he looks utterly gobsmacked when I have gathered very piece and sliver of the courage needed to look up at him.

However, before I can utter a word, a hesitating hand reaches out to carefully brush against my cheek, the touch as light as the fall of a feather on porcelain. The gentleness of the contact forms a funny contrast to the roughness when he firmly presses his lips on mine the second after.

Musk mingled with the musty perfume of books, warmth of spices and bitter coffee with a hint of fresh cologne fills my nose and overtakes the senses. My brain short-circuits, filled with a strange primal instinct no one has ever awakened before. Notwithstanding, something in the way our bodies harmonize in the small yet passionate contact triggers it, leaving me wanting more.

Skin on skin.

Just us.

But it’s too early and we barely know each other. This isn’t right. Not now, at least.

Hence is why I pull away, taking a step back with the imprint of his moustache ticklish on my lips. 

A whimper like an abandoned puppy erupts from his throat as he chases after my mouth. Nevertheless, when I take a step back to avoid further contact, he gives up and lowers his head. However, as rapidly as disappointment had overtaken him, he rights himself and clears his throat. When he speaks up, the words come out in a mumbled mess. “I- I’m sorry. That was too direct.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, vaguely gesturing with one hand while I rub the back of my neck with the other. “I- I liked it, but let’s not- Do you... really see me that way?”

“In what way?” he asks, blinking as he gives me a blank look. But, the meaning dawns on him after a moment in which I badly try to articulate what I mean. 

He grabs my right wrist, the one he bit, and holds it up for me to see. The broken skin has already healed a bit, but it’s still sensitive and throbbing, especially now that JB puts pressure on it. “I didn’t do this out of some de- del- confused?”

“Delirious?” I help him, wondering what point he is about to try and convince me of. 

“Delirious! I didn’t do this out of a delirious frenzy. This means something to me. Something important. To me, this is us.” JB takes in a deep breath to steady himself, his voice strained as he seems to hold something in. “What I want for us. And I want others to know this because you’re my territory.”

“I’m just a friend.”

And scared of losing you to Love.

“You are, but you’re also more to me. I know you said you want to take things slow and I agree with that.’’ His expression softens, dark eyes filled with tender affection. ‘’However, I want you to know how I really feel about you.”

“I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Me too. Yet,” he closes the distance and cups my face, his thumbs lovingly brushing my cheeks, “you deserve to know my intentions. Know I want to take the risk when you’re ready to do so too.”

“Thank you.” I run my hands over his arms, his body heat warming my palms through the fabric of the sleeves. It’s a pleasant thought, knowing he is there to catch me should my knees give out. Which is likely to happen as the leftover tension from our trip upstairs fades and affection fills the heart. 

“For what?”

“Waiting.”

Until I figure out when it’s the right time.

He nips at the tip of my nose, his tongue cheeky in its feather light touch. “I always will. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I’m going out for tea with a friend.” The delight in his expression sours as it did in the park, the confident playfulness replaced by a vicious brooding. The autumn chill cools my face, the warmth and safety of his hands fallen away. 

Turned to stone by the suppressed vehemence, I stumble over my words as I swiftly explain myself. “She is an old friend I met at university. We go out for tea or coffee often, especially before I have to go on a trip.”

“Ah, I see.” He hangs his head in remorse, but perks up immediately as if remembering something. “I got you something. Wait here.”

He rushes inside, coming back soon after with two books in his hands which he holds out to me. A collection of Keats’s poems and Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake.

The books I read when we met.

“For you,” JB happily announces, the bright proud ring in his voice distorting it to sound like a bark. “So you have something to read when you’re away.”

 “Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I accept the gift, showing my gratitude in the brush over his fingers as I take the books from his hands. “I should get you something in return.”

“Just send me a reminder to take my medication every day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“And a text you arrived home safely.”

“Of course.”

“And let me pick you up from the airport when you come back.”

“My, do you have any other demands?”

Lips pursed as if seriously considering the rhetorical remark, Jaebeom tilts his head to the side. “Well, eating together again would be nice. Maybe we can go around town and try out various cafés and go bookshop hopping? I could also cook for you at least once a week, though I’ll have to ask Jinyoung to teach me.”

Oh my God, he really is serious.

Before he continues adding to the evidently growing list, I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I hear you. One thing at a time, alright?”

“Right,” he chuckles, “one thing at a time.”

“I’m gonna go.” With a heavy heart full of reluctance, I initiate our goodbyes. “Go to bed and get some rest before your fever worsens. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Of course.”

I stand on the tip of my toes and tenderly press my lips against his. “Goodnight, Jaebeom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I ascend the stairs, but do not head home immediately. Instead, I remain where I stand and turn around to wave at the wolfish man gazing down at me.

One more moment with him.

Before I set off on the homebound journey in the next.

Above, the moon is waning.

Yesterday evening, Morgan sent pictures of the place she has chosen for our next tea adventure, lyrical about the interior. Since the moment we met, in our first year of studying journalism at the local university, we have been visiting coffee shops and tea rooms around the country and occasionally written an article about them for the university’s blog. Our adventures always begin the same, never having changed in the six years we have known each other.

A picture.

And a rant about aesthetics, reviews, and the potential of having discovered a hidden gem.

The latter might be the case of Moon Bunny Coffee and Tea, a tea room inspired by the French countryside. The far wall is made of bare brick, which forms a strangely yet nice contrast to the white wooden furniture and neatly set tables. From the speakers in the corners of the establishment, instrumental pieces and French songs alternate each other to enhance the atmosphere that makes one feel as if they are truly in France. And if the interior does nothing for the imagination, the pastries and beverage names noted in French on the menu will do the trick. 

It’s only recently opened and is run by a young couple. Élise, the owner, has opened this establishment after working in various patisseries in Paris during her teenage years. However, she has now settled here with who I actually presume rather than know is her partner. According to the context Morgan sent, the tall guy with pale blond hair, oval narrow face and a leather necklace with a strange bauble - that seems to change colour - hanging from it is called Mark. The level of familiarity between the two as they work makes it easy to assume there is more than friendship, hence the suspected relation between the two.

“So, have you seen him again?” Morgan takes a sip of her cinnamon and apple tea, a smirk on her cherry red lips.

I told her about Jaebeom and the strange first encounter with him. Regardless of the weird amiability that grew between us as the hours passed in each other’s company, I could not help but remain wary. After all, the bookseller has a particular reputation thanks to the rumours created by the local gossip mill. In hindsight, it’s idiotic I used those groundless stories in my analysis or, rather, overanalysis of the kindness he showed me. Yet, I did, though they sound as absurd as they did before now that I know him better.

Notwithstanding, whereas I was losing my sanity anxious bit by anxious bit as I told her about it over the phone, Morgan’s enthusiasm grew at the same rate. Each argument in favour of the concern about my strangeness or far-fetched theory he was merely polite, she countered with a more realistic view on the situation. In the end, it’s also her input which led to me dropping by Paper Souls on the way to work and back on a daily basis.

And I’m glad she’s part of the reason I did because I might otherwise have given up after the third day of seeing the bookshelves cast in shadows. 

“I have,” I admit, unable to suppress a smile at the memory of our outing to the park.

And what came after.

The memory of the chafing of his moustache triggers a phantom of the loving warmth of his lips on mine. Cheeks heat up, remembering the roughness of his sturdy hands. A sharp sting followed by a throbbing treks through my wrist again, the half-healed wound suffering from a pleasant phantom pain.  

“Judging by that grin of yours, you’re not telling me everything.” Morgan cuts her scone in half and smears some of the homemade strawberry jam it comes with on one half, followed by a dollop of clotted cream. 

I nibble on the rice cake filled with red bean paste. Maybe it’s not a perfect partner to the tea I chose although it makes for a delicious combination regardless. The taste of red beans is an acquired one, but the subtle sweetness evens out the bitterness of the beverage. “We went on somewhat of a date.”

“Somewhat?”

“It kind of just happened.” The whiskey tea I ordered is stronger than I thought, howbeit not in an unpleasant way. Like the real drink, it goes down smoothly and warms the body from within. “He offered to go out for lunch in the park and I agreed. It was nice. Really nice.”

Especially his body heat, the safety of his presence. How protected I felt despite not knowing him all that well.

“And?”

“And?” I repeat like a parrot. I know what she’s unconsciously aiming at, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell her outright. It’s always fun to tease the raven-haired woman a little. 

“Details, lass!” 

“We kissed,” I say, the confession hardly louder than a whisper. ‘’And I was the one to initiate it.’’

“How scandalous.” In fake shock, she clasps her hand over her mouth. “You’re a bold one, Y/N.”

“Oh, stop it.” I take a sip of tea and point at the other half of her scone. “Clotted cream with jam instead of the other way around now?”

As a fierce defender of both sides of the old discussion, Morgan indeed now smears the fluffy white cream on the other half first before she tops it off with the jam. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m not sure if there’s a future for us.” I lean back, cross my arms and look out the window. 

A little distance away, there’s a metal bench and somehow an image of myself sits on it, alone. No wonder she looks glum because she is the me of the future, a woman who’s heart was devoted to the type of love that is, like humans, a plaything of Time.  

She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say this, but,’’ I turn back to her, absent-mindedly rubbing the mark on my wrist, ‘’he told me he has this condition that’s kinda like dementia, but he gave off the impression it’s also not. I don’t know what’s going on, only that there’s a deadline. A cruel one, and while I know avoiding it is futile, I’m not ready to face it nor will I ever be.”

The confusion on her face lightens to understanding concern. However, despite her features softening, there remains a hint of brooding in her attitude. “I see. It’s like that,” she murmurs cryptically as she takes a bite of her scone, more to herself than as a reply to me. “The story is repeating itself.”

“Morgan,” the mention of her name makes the raven-haired woman snap out of her reverie, “what do you mean?”

Instead of providing a proper answer, she dismisses the questions with a vague gesture. “Just the murmurs of an old soul.”

There is inherent beauty in the medieval cities of Europe that leaves one in awe wherever they go. Furthermore, the shops specialized in local goods and hidden gems add to the flair of narrow streets enclosed by tall buildings that breathe history. Nevertheless, regardless of the ancient beauty, there is nothing which can compete with a warm bed at the end of a day full of running from one end of the town to the other in search of the best chocolatiers.

Well, there is one thing.

As I’m putting on my pyjamas, my phone gives off a light buzz, indicating a new message. 

Jaebeom: Can we video call? I miss your face. 

You... You miss seeing me?

In spite of the unease of not having makeup on, I oblige and call him first. It has not even gone over once before messy black locks show up on screen. However, before he can have a good look at me, I quickly slink beneath the blanket.

“What’re you doing?” He, too, is in bed howbeit without any insecurity whatsoever. In fact, he is more than comfortable wearing not even a top regardless of the chilly weather, leaving defined collarbones and defined chest muscles on display. 

“I’m not wearing makeup, so I look horrible.”

And you showing up like this doesn’t help either.

Because the bare skin, little as it is, unleashes a storm of butterflies in the stomach. The temperature in the room rises or maybe it is simply my body reacting to the aching to run my fingertips over his definitions, the features that unintentionally unleash an absurd frenzy holding the middle between unashamed love and lust. The cheeks heat up as the need for the thick comforter decreases yet the growing discomfort is not enough to come out of hiding. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Either intentionally or not, he puts on irresistible puppy eyes. The well-meant tenderness in his voice also stirs something in me, charmed by the kindness. “Please don’t hide. I want to see you.”

Although reluctant, I lower the sheets. 

Only to want to pull them over my head at his words and the stupidly bright smile accompanying them. “You’re even prettier like this.”

“Shut up, you weird wolf,” I grumble, jaw clenched as I strain myself not to hide again. To distract us both, I change the topic. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did! And I mean it. No, no, no! Get out from under there. Y/N, come on. I’m not lying. You are pretty. And caring and nice and-’’

“You’re handsome.” I glare at him, peeking just over the edge of the sheet. Unfortunately, my revenge isn’t successful since it merely yields a low chuckle.

Though it seems the victory is still mine because he bites on his bottom lip and softens his voice further to a timid whisper. “Even with my new look?” 

He shows off the mess of his shorter black locks, which are shaved on the side and longer on top. It’s a shame to see the long hair go because I personally think it suits him better, but he pulls the cooler style off too.

“Even more so because of it.” Although they’re essentially minor changes, it casts Jaebeom in a whole other light. He’s still a wolfish man, and I doubt I’ll ever see him as something else, but the new look gives him a more human allure. As if he’s tuned in better to life in the city instead of wandering the rough landscape in his mind. 

“I’ll tell Jinyoung he did a good job, then.” He gets up on his elbow, a view of the upper part of his chest filling the small screen. The veins in his hand form mellow ridges on the back of it, highlighting a few patches where the skin has scraped off, as he fluffs his pillow before lying down again and snuggling into it to get comfortable. “How’s Bruges?”

“It’s a really pretty city. I think you’d like it.” A wistful smile forms on my lips, in part dazed by the entrancing sight a moment ago. “I wish you were here. Wish we could get lost forever... together! I mean, get lost together. Here. In the city.”

“Are you getting sleepy?” His features soften into a dreamy expression though a cheeky spark illuminates the night sky in his eyes. 

“No,” I fiercely protest. That is, until an involuntary yawn escapes me, which makes it impossible to hide the fatigue of running about town the entire day anymore. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t want to. We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.” I conceal another yawn by pulling up the comforter.

“You likely have another busy day ahead. So go hit the hay and I’ll talk to you in my dream.”

“Who says I won’t do the same?’’ I remark smugly, proud of the comment that pops up and is too tempting not to make. ‘’Wouldn’t that make it our dream?”

“We’ll talk in our dream,” he corrects himself, a content hum following the correction. Notwithstanding, the delight darkens into a stern seriousness as he tries to look over my shoulder to scan the room, to inspect every nook and cranny instead of what’s on display in the background. “By the way, what’s your colleague doing? Are you alone?”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “He has his own room because he tends to want more of the local taste, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” A deeply puzzled expression forms on his face, clearing the spine-chilling suspicion. “Is that code for something?”

“An affair, JB. My colleague more often than not enjoys a one-night stand, if not more, with local girls. It depends on how long we’re away.”

“Have you ever done that?” It has to be the exhaustion, but the question strangely sounds like a whine.  

“Never. In fact, you...” I bite my lip as my stomach ties itself into a nauseating knot, chest constricted with bleak worry about what he will say about the confession balancing precariously on the tip of the tongue. However, I swallow hard and continue the unfinished sentence. “You’re the first guy I’ve dated.”

“We’re dating?”

“Are we?” His question makes me wonder if we actually are, if I didn’t jump to a fantastical conclusion. Then again, we kissed, went out together, and drank coffee in his shop. Nevertheless, also judging by the curiosity in his response, I doubt it’s right for me to assume it’s true. “Well, maybe we aren’t. After all, we’ve only been to the park, so I suppose-’’

I’m wrong, because we barely know each other and yet. Yet, I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Is that anything to go by, a valid reason?

“We’re dating!” The sudden outburst catches me as much off-guard as the enthusiastic addition or, rather, plan for when I return. “I’ll cook for you after bringing you home. Afterwards, we can just sit on the couch and read. You can also nap on me to cure your jet lag. Does that count as a date?”

“I don’t know if it does according to the official terms, but,” the fatigue ebbs away, replaced by the giddiness of going home as soon as possible, “it does to me.”

“Two dates,” he murmurs thoughtfully, nodding as if confirming an unspoken notion. “We’re dating.”

Weirdo.

I watch him analyze the situation, overcome with affection. When he bites down on his index finger to suppress a broad grin, I almost have to do the same. 

“I wish I was there with you,” Jaebeom eventually notes to break the twilight hush, at last content on where we stand. The yearning of the wish is tangible in my bones because I feel the same way, though I try not to show it. “I should’ve given you a shirt or something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good. That’s not the word. Ap... ap... appropropiate? Appropriate. If it would be that.”

“I do have the books you gave me, so I do have a piece of you here.”

But I do miss your scent. Wait, that’s weird to say. I shouldn’t say that.

Though it’s indeed strange and I don’t tell him, it isn’t a lie. Jaebeom does smell nice, like a wild forest in which the air is scented by a cologne that barely conceals its secret. The ferocious guardian in the shadows. 

 “Still, I wish I had given you something that marks you as mine.” Gaze downcast, the big wolf man pouts at the thought, sulking. 

“You have.” I hold up my wrist, the place where he bit me now nothing but a red blotch.

“It’s almost gone. I should renew that once you’re back. A shirt and bite. That should show other males we’re together,” he muses, the disappointment gone in an instant as his focus changes.

“Totally not possessive, are we?”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just marking my territory.”

“JB, you are.”

“Does it bother you, make you upset?”

“Yes and no.” I take in a shaky breath, distracted by the thought of the implications I want him to be. After all, something about the feral allure melts any resistance and lets me slip into a headspace I didn’t know I had. 

Somewhere, deeply hidden in the brain, there’s a different woman, a different ego. A part of me which wants and needs him. That doesn’t mind being his possession.

His mate. 

“Don’t get me wrong-’’

“How can I get you good?”

The unintentional play on words uttered by urgent yet confused puppy eyes distracts me from the splendid explanation I wanted to give him.

How... How does he do it? Does he even know what he’s doing? Never mind.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I begin anew, “I appreciate your concern for me and I really do feel safe with you. But you bit me. In public too! I get it’s your way of telling me you like me and maybe I don’t actually mind the mark you left behind so much-’’

“So it’s not the biting?” A boyish smirk plays on his lips. Had he had an actual tail, it would have been swishing heavily with a dangerous cheer. “I can do it again?”

“No.”

Maybe someday I’ll let you. But not anytime soon.

“But you said you didn’t mind my mark. If that isn’t a problem, why can’t I refresh it?”

“Jaebeom, please, let me finish talking.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” I take in a deep breath. “Now, normal human couples don’t bite each other to let others and one another know they belong together. So let’s try to find other ways to do just that. Commonly, the girl wears the guy’s shirt. I think that’s a good starting point for us.”

“What are other ‘ways’?” he asks, evidently not too keen on the idea.

I tilt my head, trying to come up with the most frequent ways in which people casually express being taken without immediately suggesting obvious physical marks. “Necklaces, bracelets and rings are common couple items. Some even go as far as getting matching tattoos.”

“I like the sound of that, a tattoo. Permanent. Permanent human mark.”

“Let me think about that one, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods in agreement. “But, if I understand you correctly, I can give you a shirt.”

“You can.”

“And you’ll wear it because it has my scent on it.”

“That’s kind of the idea behind it,” I confirm, glad he understands the underlying meaning despite not explaining it.

He looks down at his chest only to discover he’s not wearing anything. The glance over his shoulder falls on a black shirt somewhere behind him. He turns away, grabs the piece of clothing and holds it tightly against his body when he turns back to me. “Sounds good to me.”

I guess I’ll be given a ‘welcome home’ present.

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 1

Introductions

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: Explicit (for future chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Blood, Injury, Longing, Pet names

A/N: After the feedback on my preview, I decided to make this into a full-fledge fic. This chapter is a little slow in terms of action but I wanted to establish some things before we dived into filth. I’m honestly so excited and I hope y’all enjoy. Comments and feedback always appreciated. ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing 

Chapter 2

P.S. Mira is an OC I created for this story and she will be in future chapters.

P.P.S. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer that forum.

Summary: You run into a Mandalorian who wants to repay a debt. Little did you know you'd meet the most alluring man along the way. Din Djarin.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes, I have,” you sighed.

“And?”

“I accept"

—

You can’t recall when the calm began and the fighting ended. For most, the lines between peace and war blurred a long time ago. It certainly affected the locals of the planet you were currently living on. Manual labor was the only thing you could offer to the galaxy, picking up jobs here and there to buy rations of food. Scavenging for metals, digging, harvesting, and menial tasks were all that made up your day. You survived this long, longer than your family, longer than most of the galaxy, but it felt part of you had died long ago.

After the empire, life was truly never the same for anyone. They drained the galaxy of everything it had, leaving destruction and barrenness in its wake. The Imps had caused most of the galaxy to become a shell of what it once was, the only thing that seemed to thrive was lawlessness. You saw it in the faces of people in the market, in the seemingly empty homes that ran alongside the town, an emptiness that was buried deep in wounds trying so desperately to heal.

Everyone tried to live their lives just as they have done before. Children still played in the streets, people walked together laughing, but the happiness was only skin deep, masking the grief of the galaxy. It was something that ate away at you, an emptiness that created a growing void over time. You could feel your mind falling away, going numb to the routine of your life. Your conscious embraced something that seemed to root from deep inside you, it had burrowed into your soul one ago, slowly eating away at the rest of you. It was becoming suffocating, exhausting you past the point any manual labor could. You feared you would never escape its clutch. Living and working and dying on this horrible little planet, where no one would miss you. Your loneliness became your one solace and your worst enemy. Alone, all you could do was immerse yourself in work, trying desperately to hold onto something you never had in the first place. It was a vicious cycle you weren’t sure could ever be broken. That was until the woman happened.

You couldn’t remember exactly what transpired. How any of it happened really. It was a day like any other, just as routine and conventional as they had been since you got here. You do remember being smacked across the face with something hard, falling to the ground. The taste of copper flooding your senses, and wetness pouring down your face. You had reached up to cradle yourself, blood seeping through your fingertips.

Everything surrounding that moment was a blur. The woman had offered her hand, apologizing for the injury. You had seen her before; walking through the market and even arguing with some of the townsfolk. She was truly hard to miss, she walked with a swagger of confidence and carried practically every weapon known to the galaxy on her back. She was always dressed in a maroon color, her armor is the only thing that offsets the monochromatic trend. It was much different than anything she had seen before.

If anyone else stood in her place you would've fled fearing the worst, but your mind was muddled, unable to comprehend the Mandalorian standing above you. Something was different about her, at least from the other mercenaries that came through. You had witnessed her differing moral compass at work before. She once threatened a man who came through town, a common criminal like most who came through. Unlucky for him, he robbed one of the places she frequented, taking the entirety of the merchants’ earnings. Everyone, including yourself, just stood by, too afraid of the confrontation. She, however, intercepted him before he could leave, disarming him quickly and leaving his unconscious body on the ground. She gave the credits back to the merchant.

“There is no honor among thieves,” she had huffed, annoyed with the disturbance of her day.

As she turned to leave you spoke up, asking her why she had even bothered.

“This is the way.”

—

“How long have you lived on this planet?” She inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Her helmet glinted in the sunlight, causing her presence to practically glow in the shade of the alleyway.

“Long enough,” you huffed, holding a cloth to your nose trying to reduce the bleeding. Why would she ask such a question? Since when did Mandalorians care for small talk?

“You don’t like it?” The woman didn’t sound surprised. Her tone rolled in an almost sarcastic way.

You just huffed in response. You hoped if you seemed uninterested the woman would leave you alone. It felt like an interrogation, intimidated by the domineering presence of a Mandalorian. At this point, you just wanted to return to your day, no matter how draining it would be.

“Would you like to leave?”

Those words rang in your ears, echoing even now as you sat in the belly of the woman’s ship, being carted off to a planet unrecognizable. The dizziness from earlier seemed to subside, especially since the woman gave you a shot of some sort, claiming it would help.

“Where are we going?” you mumbled.

“To my clan,” the woman responded, busying herself with the controls in front of her.

“Your clan?”

“To my home,” she clarified, not bothering to look up. “You will be welcome there and can rest, heal.”

“You’re taking me to your home because of this?” you gestured to your face, no doubt bruised and blooded. If it looked as bad as it had felt, you were sure it wasn’t pretty.

She paused in her actions, thinking carefully about her next words.

“It is my fault you sustained these injuries, you were innocent and did not deserve my wrath. Therefore, I will make sure you are healed and it will be much more comfortable for both of us if we return to my clan.”

The Mandalorian seemed unbothered by the notion of taking a stranger back to her home as if she does it regularly. But you figured it didn’t concern you. If this Mandalorian and her clan lived up to the stories you heard, they weren’t afraid of anyone.

“What’s your name?” you asked. If you were going to be staying, you couldn’t keep referring to her as “the woman.”

“You can call me Mira.”

—

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. You eventually moved to sit with Mira in the cockpit. Watching as she worked to prepare the ship for landing. You wondered what Mira’s home would be like. The Mandalorians were known to be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You had heard the stories before; tales of battle, triumph, and loss. Stories of the most formidable soldiers in the galaxy.

Regret started to cloud the corners of your mind. Fear of what you had gotten yourself into seeped into your chest, tightening your rib cage with each breath you took. Truly, you had no desire to stay and heal with Mira, you mainly wanted to escape her life previously. Opportunities to leave we’re few, especially with no status in the New Republic. When Mira had offered, there was no hesitation to get off that forsaken planet. You weren’t sure if things went sour you would be strong enough to get yourself out of it.

When the ship fell out of hyperspace, Mira’s home finally came into view. It definitely wasn’t what you expected, it was such a beautiful and peaceful looking place, tucked away in the far corners of the galaxy.

The planet was covered in a green lushness, the sky littered with enormous clouds that reflected the sun giving them faint hues of color. As you entered through the atmosphere, you saw the planet was lined with dense areas of forest. Trees reached the heavens, with fat brightly colored leaves adorning them. The forests stretched for most of the planet's surface, with large mountains that loomed far in the distance.

Mira landed in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Some other ships surrounded them, you recognized a few of the models from your time working as an apprentice. You figured these probably belonged to the rest of Mira’s clan. Mira couldn’t have been the only one who left the planet.

You stood staring at the mountains while Mira unloaded your ship. You had never seen a place this mesmerizing in your life. The sun was beginning to set, painting the landscape in red and purple rays. The air was fresh and crisp, filling your lungs with a gentleness you hadn’t felt in years. Everything seemed so bright and livid compared to your previous homes.

Mira called for you, climbing onto the back of a speeder driven by an R2 unit, loaded with supplies. You murmured an apology, settling among the crates and stretching your feet in front of you, Mira did the same mirroring her position.

“It will take some time to get to the village.” Mira’s tone was passive, in a matter of fact sort of way.

You gave a nod to let her know you heard her. As you tried to sleep, cushioned by the bags lining the speeder, you were reminded of the dull ache still permeating your face. The excitement of arrival had clouded the pain, but as you sat consumed by only your thoughts, it returned. Your face was no doubt swollen and puffy. You just hoped your nose wasn’t broken, you hoped it was nothing more than some swelling. Exhaustion was creeping up, and you wanted to succumb to it but the persistent throb of pain kept you from it.

Suddenly the speeder came to an abrupt halt, jolting you to the side.

“We’re here,” Mira started getting up and slinging sacks of supplies over her shoulders. “Follow me.”

You got up to follow as quickly as your legs would let you, holding onto the crates for support, your balance became unsteady as the pain pulsed harder. Whatever Mira originally gave you was wearing off. Before you could step foot off the speeder you were overwhelmed by the presence of what you can only gather is Mira’s clan.

People rushed to the speeder to help unload, brushing past you except for a curious glance. Most of them wore helmets like Mira, some of them didn’t. Either way, it was hard to keep track of the direction Mira moved. You were sure you’d lost her until you saw the glint of her helmet ahead.

That woman moves entirely too fast.

You continued to follow her, securing your own bag across your shoulders. You tried to move quickly, bumping into people on the way. You apologized to everyone you ran into, which was seemingly the entire clan at this point. You could feel the embarrassment rising, you just wanted to find Mira and it was getting frustrating at this point. It was hard to focus on the surroundings with the pain shooting through your skull. You nearly fell and ran into something you were sure was a wall. It was firm whatever it was and caused you to wince, jolting back from the pain that pulsed in her face.

“Easy,” a voice said that was much deeper than Mira’s.

Arms came up to steady you, and a warmth radiated towards you. You looked up and saw a dark visor staring back at you that was certainly not Mira’s

He was a Mandalorian but stood out from the rest in a way that demanded attention. His authoritative demeanor rolled off him in ways. His helmet was shiny and unlike Mira’s, two large tusks jutted out from the bottom, curling around to the front of his mask. His clothes were the same deep maroon Mira donned. He wore a cape with a large fur that sat on his pauldron covered shoulders, draping down his back. His forearms were accented with sleeves made of leather and cloth that bleed into a tattooed pattern tracing along his arms. Yet, his chest was bare except for the necklaces he wore; round beads and animal teeth were woven together to sit in the middle, set off by the toned muscle of his chest and torso. At his waist was a thick belt with a large buckle resting in the middle. It shone with the same luster as his helmet, it was molded into the shape of some creature. It seemed familiar but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

His fingers lightly traced your chin, bringing your eyes back up to his visor. You didn’t realize you were just standing there, ogling over him. It was entirely unintentional, you had never seen anything like him before. You felt scolded like a child, almost embarrassed by your staring. Face suddenly growing very hot under his gaze.

“You must watch where you’re going,” his hushed baritone hit her ears, “or you’ll hurt yourself.” That voice quite possibly the most heavenly sound you had heard. You willed herself to speak but nothing came out, your mind was completely blank. It was as if you were stuck, only able to stare back up into this stranger.

“It’s a little too late for that,” Mira appeared to his right, arms crossed over her chest. The man turned to her and offered Mira a greeting in an unfamiliar language. They shook, hands clasped together at the forearms as if they were old friends.

“Who is this sweet girl?” The man asked, turning back towards you. The name he called you did not go unnoticed, and you felt your face getting even hotter. Mira began to explain the details of your meeting.

Mira refers to your injuries, and gently takes your chin and tilts your head so the Mandalorian can examine it better. Your instincts told you to run, to go anywhere else but here, but you remained planted firm to the ground. They were so close to you, examining as if you were just some object. You couldn’t even see their faces and yet they overwhelmed you. You had never wanted to disappear so badly at that moment.

They continued conversing in whatever native tongue they possessed. You stood there feeling much too exposed for your liking. More people seemed to notice your presence, looking in the direction of the three of you. Some murmured, looking between you and the two Mandalorians. There was no malice behind their intentions; you knew this but standing there with all those eyes watching your every move was not where you wanted to be.

Eventually, the man gestured to something behind him, Mira nodded and took a hold of your arm leading you away.

“One of the elders will be with us to help you shortly,”  Mira led you in the direction of what you assumed was her home. You didn't even register you had moved until you were almost inside. You weren’t entirely sure if it was your wounds or the domineering exchange between the Mandalorian that left you light headed. Either way, you wanted nothing more than to lay down in a quiet place and hide away from the events of the past days.

You glanced back at the speeder, the Mandalorian was still in the same spot where he intercepted you, watching you both walk away. You turned back to Mira.

“Who was that man?” You asked much more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You couldn't lie and say he didn't intrigue you. His aura was overpowering but also enticed you in a way you couldn't explain.

“That was our clan leader, Din Djarin.”

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 18

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Is it?? Do they?! ARGH!! A/N: Hmmm....I think I messed up in relation to canon timeline. Oh well! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

18. Incinerator

...   Benimaru   ...

The captain of Company Seven knows what he has to do. There has never been a doubt in his heart before and there isn’t this time either as the smoke from the explosion wafts in the air across Asakusa...but for once he hesitates.

“Go,” [Y/N] grumbles, “it’s probably nothing, though...” It’s clear in the way she says it that she isn’t convinced.

Turning back to face her, he cradles her face with both hands. “You head straight home, you hear me?”

“Yeah fine, but only out of self-preservation and not because you’re bossing me around!”

There’s that annoying stubbornness and the pout that’s always always challenged by the gleam in her eye. Those lips. If only he could kiss away that frown. It’s tempting. On the other hand, she’d probably just headbutt him in response and then it would be really awkward to pick up the conversation afterwards. And Konro would know, somehow.

The thoughts flash through his head in less than a second which, co-incidentally, is just as long as [Y/N] meets his mouth and shuts up his brain. It’s a kiss. A brief one, but hard and impossible to ignore because it’s sends flames racing through Benimaru’s body, stealing his breath away and he can’t help but look to her lips the instant she pulls back.

“Go,” she says, tip of the tongue darting out as if to taste him, “and hurry home.”

The captain can’t think of anything more intelligent than nodding – not that he’d get a chance to say much as the familiar voice of Konro yells from below for him to hurry.

...  Reader   ...

Before climbing down from the watchtower, you see the two men hurry off in the direction of the smoke and flames. What just happened?

Your knees are wobbly, belly fluttering, all the way home. Did he just...?

The headquarters are silent. Not a soul left because they’ve all hurried out to do their job. Kissed...I kissed him?

“Ah, right on time,” someone says from behind.

You don’t have time to face the speaker before a sharp pain crashes through your skull and turns off the world.

...  Benimaru   ...

Looking over the rubbles of what used to be the company’s favourite teppanyaki place, Benimaru accepts his men’s decision. They and Konro are insisting on staying with the men to help with extinguishing the last flames before clearing as much of the street as possible.

“We don’t need you for this, Shinmon,” the lieutenant smiles knowingly.

It’s strange. The explosion has taken out only the restaurant, creating plenty of chaos and unfortunately injuring a dozen people. No deaths – even the cook had managed to get out before the fire spread and the place blew up. It’s all...normal. No infernals. Just an unfortunate accident in a perfect, newly renovated kitchen.

“Konro...didn’t we help -” Benimaru begins.

The cheeky grin is gone, replaced with a somberness better suited for the situation. “Yeah. Finished last month.”

Asakusa is not connected to the Haijima Power Grid like the rest of Tokyo. Mostly, it’s powered by wood and fossil fuels with the exception of a water-driven generator for the hospital.

There had been no gas line installed for the kitchen. But this is a gas explosion.

“We’ll figure it out,” Konro assures, “now go.”

That’s the second time today someone’s told me to go. At least this time he’s excited for what’s waiting for him.

...

He can sense something’s wrong even before dodging through the curtained entrance. A sweetly pungent smoke curls through the air, bringing back memories from not long enough ago. Joker.

As expected, the lanky man is waiting, leaning against the wall and his hat hanging on the coat rack as if it belongs there. No greeting, no explanation as Benimaru sits down and removes the heavy boots, noting mentally that the uninvited guest already has done the same. [Y/N] hasn’t invited him in?

The building is silent as the grave and no one comes to greet them as they walk to the kitchen where the captain fills the kettle and places it on the stove. The fire inside is almost dead, but it’s nothing a few logs and a flick of the fingers can’t fix.

Maybe she’s asleep, that’s why she hasn’t shown up, he tries to calm himself.

“I’ll be right back,” Benimaru mutters.

“She’s not here.”

What? He can feel it in his bones that it’s true. “What makes you say that?”

“I checked every room.” Joker has made himself comfortable at the end of the table where Benimaru normally sits. “She’s gone. I thought you’d protect her.”

He wants to scream, wants to punch the lights out of the guy who’s relaxing as if nothing’s wrong, wants to tear up the city if it could just bring [Y/N] back. It won’t. The captain breathes it out through his nose and unclenches his fists.

“If you cared that much, why’d you not let her stay with you?”

“Not my decision.”

“...but you care and you know where she is,” Benimaru states with a growl.

The purple, hypnotic eye reveals nothing as it stares back unflinchingly. Though different in stature, the men are evenly matched and there’s no denying the Joker has a confident swagger albeit it being a bit off-putting for people who can’t appreciate the art of taking their time to think. Konro would approve. There’s no saying what the girl in the middle of this mess would, and the uncrowned king of Asakusa doesn’t want to consider it.

A polite cough brings his attention back to Joker.

“Water’s boiling...do you want it any hotter?” the jackass grins.

Could test it by throwing it at you. Of course, Benimaru doesn’t do that but occupies himself with tea making while he waits for the other to talk. Eventually, he slams down steaming cups for both of them and sits down.

“Talk.”

[slasherfilth]

You Are What You Eat - Chapter One (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

You hum along to the chorus of the song blasting from your radio as you drive along the seemingly endless dirt road. Your eyes were squinting now and again to try and see through all the dust your car was kicking up as you made your way down to your Fathers old property. It had been at least a decade since you had seen it; since you'd experienced dirt roads and the sticky feeling of sweat dripping from your forehead in the sweltering Texas sun. You'd moved out of the home a long time ago, eager to leave the backwash town of Fuller and onto something greater as you had once told your father. He'd been supportive in the decision but always said you would come back to the quiet life. Like your privacy too much to be livin' in those tiny places with too many people. You had rolled your eyes naturally, adamant that you would never miss this place once you made it out. But here you were. You were driving along the same dirt road from your childhood, surprisingly eager to be away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He had been right. A small smirk curled on your lips as you thought that. He'd have a field day if you'd ever managed to tell him that. However, a small pang of sadness hit you just as quickly as the thought came. That's the main reason your back. You couldn't tell him. The only reason you could afford to move back out was because of the inheritance and a house already paid into your name. A small sigh left your lips as you tried to focus on the music once more, at this point too exhausted to cry about it anymore.

It wasn't long until you finally pulled into the old house. A smile bloomed on your face as you took in the sight of the place you once called home. Memories of you running up the steps to the patio in a hurry from school, ready to blurt out your day to your parents. A simple rope and plank swing still hanging from the big sturdy tree that sat outside the front of the house. Remembering how you would read books from dawn till dusk under the cool shade of the tree as you grew older. With a huff of effort, you jumped out of the car, eager to stretch your legs after hours of driving. And with that you began to walk towards the all too familiar house, ready to start your new life. You could only hope you enjoyed it more than your last one.

Making your way inside you couldn't help but appreciate how cute your home really was. A housewife's dream really. Sky blue the outside, and a mix of light colours painting the interior. Big white windows over the walls, letting in natural light that bounced off the wooden furniture beautifully. You'd been fortunate. Dad had left everything to you. Which you'd appreciated since all you had yourself was a small couch, TV and a washing machine. This would be a much different experience. Humming, you made your way around the house, opening windows to let light and air in. Hoping to remove the musty smell that had built up over time. Once you finished your task, you sat down on the dining room table, taking it all in. You felt lighter already. The sadness of why you now have all of this was still there, but you pushed it away to think of the better opportunities. You could do so much more here—no one to tell you what to do or what to make. A broad grin enveloped your lips as you thought of that. And with that lovely thought, you made your way back to the car. You were initially going to wait before heading to the old business, give yourself time to adjust before setting to work. But the hardworking mentality of a country upbringing wouldn't let you. There was so much to be done, and you were more than a little excited.

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 By the time you got to town it was already in the evening, but you were too eager to take a look at the old bakery and see how much work is needed to start up again. You promised yourself you wouldn't stay long, that you could come back tomorrow and begin the real work. Still, for now, you just wanted to bask in the idea of finally being able to live your dream of having your own bakery. You hoped it would all work out. Hoped the locals remembered how good the bakery once was and feel the need to come to inspect again when word got out it was open once more. It wouldn't take long. Word travelled like wildfire through these parts. And with that, you wondered how long it would take for people to realise there was a new face in town. Not too long, you hoped. You were not always the most social person, but you would still like to make friends and have tea sometimes. Maybe you would even find that once special guy out there. You almost laughed at the thought. How many times your mother had asked about boys in your life. When were you gonna get yourself a man? You ain't gonna be bringing back one of those city boys are ya? You'll need a country boy, someone who can work and take care of you. At one time, it had made you laugh. How were you going to find a country boy in the city? But she had been right in the long run. Them boys had never tickled your fancy much. Always focused on their looks, carrying around combs and swaggering around all the ladies, acting smooth. You saw right through it all.

None of them would be able to handle a good day's work. Too weak to do some heavy lifting, no matter how much they bragged and too vain to get a bit dirty to accomplish something. You wrinkled your nose. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't fantasied about a tall, muscled up, hardworking family man taking you for a spin when you were planning your new life out here. Someone that would come along and just sweep you off your feet with one hand and help you around the house and bakery with the other. Another laugh left you; good luck, girlie. How about you make it through setting up and living here before you start fantasying about all that jazz.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you checked around the small joint, happy to find big working ovens, a register, walk-in cooler and massive pantry. It had definitely been revamped since the last time you were here which made you happy. A lot less work than what you were expecting. A simple clean down and electricity organising and it would all be good to go. You would be open by the end of the week with any luck. A hum of appreciation left you as you walked back out to your car. Thinking of some recipes, you thought the locals would like. Maybe you should try to catch up with that old meat business. See if you could strike up a deal for some meat pies. And with that you drove home, giddy about what the next few days would bring.

 _______________________________________________________________

You were in the back, kneading some dough for a new apple pie recipe you had been dying to try. After finding an apple tree at the end of your yard growing some beautiful juice fruits, you'd spent some time trying to perfect a recipe. Today you were eager to make it and offer some free samples to see if the locals would like it as well, maybe it could be a signature dish in your cosy little bakery. You'd been here for a few weeks by now, settling in nicely to your new house and property. And even happier with the bakery opening the week prior. You had been quite busy that day, everyone seemed to have noticed the work you'd been doing there. Maybe the few brief conversations you'd had when visiting stores had managed to get the word around enough for people to be interested. You smiled as you went to grab the rolling pin however paused as you heard the faint jingle of bells, alerting you to someone's presences. Putting on a big smile, you dusted the flour off of your hands onto the lavender apron you donned making your way to the front. You found an older lady waiting in a lovely floral dress, thick glasses perched on her nose. She immediately gave you a loving grandmother vibe that you adored instantly.

"Good morning, Ma'am. What can I get 'cha?" You placed your hands on your hips and turned to the lady.

"Morning, Darlin'. I just wanted to come check out this old place. Haven't seen it so busy since ol' Danny passed, rest his soul." You smiled gently, feeling an odd tug at your heart. No one had mentioned your father at all since this place had opened. You were relieved but also sad in away. You would have hoped people remembered him a bit more.

"Well thank you, Ma'am. I'm trying my best to continue in his likeness. I'm (Y/N), Danny's daughter. I recently moved out into his old place." You extended a hand, feeling your cheeks heat up as her eyes widened briefly, giving you a once over from head to toe before taking your hand in a soft but firm handshake.

"Well, I'll be darned. Who knew someone like him could raise such a good-looking young lady? I'm Luda Mae. I'm on the property next to yours with the Hewitt family. Got Charlie, Monty and my boy, Thomas out there." A smile flashed on your face. You had seen the old white house briefly before and wondered if anyone was even there anymore. The idea of having neighbours was a delightful one.

"Pleasure to meet you, Luda Mae. It's nice to know I'm not the only one all the way out there. How about I get you some coffee and cakes, I'd love to hear a little about the town and yourself." You decided to be a bit more forward than usual. This woman just made you feel comfortable, and you were interested in who exactly was staying near you. A wide smile adorned the older woman face.

"Well, I'd love that darlin'. White with two sugars, please. And I'll like to try that lemon tart you've got in there. Haven't had a good one in a long time since this place shut down." Joy filled you as you nodded and set to work, making double for yourself as you went to sit down with her.

"I hope it's just as good as you remember." The two of you seemed to get along great, the conversation flowed smoothly as you explained why you came back out and your ideas for the business in the future. How you had gone to culinary school in order to start your own little bakery and how excited you were to share it with people here. The two of you exchanged recipes, and Luda let you in on what local flavours and harvests were available at different times of the year. She also told you about her family, the town's history since you left and odd bits and pieces that came to mind. In between the conversation, you would have to get up to serve some people, but she seemed to enjoy the talk and food which made you happy. No one had been incredibly rude or anything here, but this was the first time someone had shown you that good old country friendliness you remembered so fondly from your childhood.

"Yeah, is a shame the old slaughterhouse shut down, would have been great to have some meat pies around this place." That piqued your interest.

"Oh? I hadn't realised it shut down. I was thinking about trying to get some meat just for that. Well darn, I'll have to think of something else now. Will be too expensive to import for now." A small frown tugged at the edge of your lips. Luda Mae clicked her tongue but smiled.

"No worries dear, I'm sure you will figure something out. If you're ever in desperate need for something you just us know. Us Hewitts aren't the richest folk around, but we're the most generous if you can look past all that ridiculous talk." You kept a smile on your face as you took in Luda's small rant, slightly worried about what she could mean. Where they not well-liked amongst the community? Luda Mae looked like a typical town grandmother though. It was very strange to you. But you didn't wish to comment as you could already tell it was a sore spot. Instead, you nodded and thanked her profusely for her offer, offering a hug as she stood tidying up the plates and cups.

"Oh, don't worry about that I'll handle it. It was lovely to meet you, Ms Hewitt, you can come around anytime for a good chat. Feel free to bring the family too." She smiled wide at that and nodded at you while you gathered up the dishes quickly.

"Will do dear, you take care now. I'll be back." You move to the back with a warm feeling, dropping the dishes next to the sink. Turning you look back at the pie you were initially making before you had gotten interrupted—thoughts of Luda Mae's rant filling your mind. From what you gathered, they weren't the most well off and were considered outcasts even in this small town. You frown. You wondered why. But shaking your head, you turn back to work. You decided you would make up for the town's ridicule and begin making small goodies for the family. You're sure she would be appreciative. She also said she had a son, you wondered how old he was. Maybe a teenager? Perhaps he would like sweets as well.

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So I’ve kind of been lurking around my favourite slashers for awhile and I love everyones stories so much. And now I feel confident adding my own little peices. I’m sure you can guess where the story is going from the clues and I hope you can see which amazingly gruesome muscial this is derived from. Tell me what you think and if you guys like it, I’ll be sure to bring that next chapter with lots of our amazing beefy boi.