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min-imum · 3 months ago

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ceo mingyu and office siren reader?? 😍😍😍

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: afab!reader, size kink, reader is smaller than mingyu, office sex, semi-public??, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), tit fucking!!!!! omg, spit as lube because mingyu never imagined he’d be having sex in his office…, crying from pleasure!!!!, let me know if i missed anything, i realised i didn’t really emphasise the office siren part sorry :(, not proofread forgive me

anon this was honestly such an interesting ask to receive. i took so long to write this because i’ve been thinking about how i want this to go (on top of the crushing guilt i felt for skipping earlier asks but my writers’ block is, unfortunately, selective) but i’m ready now because i saw mingyu in office attire…... he’d make such a hot CEO, blazer always folded neatly over a chair, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, just enough buttons left open to be sexy but not inappropriate, expensive watch wrapped around his right wrist.

mr kim is probably the best boss you’ve ever worked for, too — he’s kind but not too giving, he makes sure everyone does the work they’re supposed to do, he resolves problems amicably as much as possible, and he’s not an ass about taking time off work. he feeds the staff sometimes, ordering surprise catering or bubble tea for everyone. he delegates work fairly and doesn’t dump too much on an unlucky underpaid worker.

additionally, the pay he offers is really good, enough for you to splurge every now and then. it hadn’t been this way at any of your previous jobs, where you slaved away to make ends meet. now, even in your upgraded apartment (with it’s upgraded rent), you’re able to spend money to take care of yourself with new products and spa days and branded bags.

he’s unbelievably charming — strong eyebrows and a pretty smile that works wonders during meetings with clients, a superb memory that ensures he knows his staff’s likes and dislikes, and compassion and empathy that makes him a wonderful superior.

so, naturally, you fall for him.

just a little bit. maybe. he’s nice, and all, but you’re sure you can find someone better somewhere else. besides, that’s your CEO, the one and only kim mingyu. he wouldn’t choose you even if you chose him.

you keep your head down and do your best to be a good employee. you’ve never missed a deadline, and you work doubly as hard to cover your sick days (even if he tells you you really don’t have to, he’s got it covered, seriously), and you try to limit the cost you incur from the company’s unlimited coffee policy. you proofread all your reports three times just to be sure. you’re friendly with all your coworkers. you drink at company parties, just enough to fit in, never so much that you’re anywhere close to being drunk.

you stir your coffee slowly, yawning — you’d slept late last night, so today you allow yourself to have an extra cup or two of coffee. the creamer you added swirls into the coffee and fades.

“didn’t take you for a no sugar type of woman.”

you nearly jump, and turn around to see your boss standing next to you, teasing grin on his face. you hold your hand to your chest. “god, you scared me,” you huff. “sugar makes it too sweet and that makes me sleepy.”

“so you do like sugar, just not during work?” mingyu asks, eyebrow raised. you nod.

Do Not Look Down, you tell yourself. Absolutely Do Not Look Down.

ha. too late. you catch yourself staring at his chest straining against his shirt, biceps filling up his sleeves, and blush bright red immediately.

“s-sorry,” you stammer, picking up your coffee and making your escape. “i have a report to get to. nice chat!”

he snickers as you scuttle off, coffee clutched in your hands.

—

good bosses don’t pick favourites, especially not when all their employees work equally as hard and produce decent results.

mingyu, unfortunately, might not meet that criteria. (fortunately, though, it seems like he’s not the only one that likes you. he sees the eyes following you through the office, and he definitely also sees the guy that intentionally takes the long way around the office to the lift just to pass by your desk.)

you’re a wonderful employee that also happens to be absolutely gorgeous. you submit your work on time, you’re civil with all your fellow coworkers, you do your job well, your hair is always tied up neatly, your shirt is always tucked properly into your pencil skirt, your skirt makes your ass look good—

he runs a hand over his face, huffing at himself. you’re his employee who has shown him nothing but respect. he shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

but god, he’d be lying to himself if he said he hasn’t thought about your pretty, glossy lips wrapped around his cock, or about tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging, or about playing with your tits until you’re sensitive and whiny.

“come in,” he calls, when he hears a knock on the door. his composure promptly flies out the window when it’s you that steps in. your skirt makes your legs look like they go on for miles, even though he knows you aren’t all that tall. he towers over you easily. his cock twitches at the thought and he immediately files the thought away for later, shaking his head to clear his mind.

“i just wanted to bring you these documents,” you say, handing him a stack of files. he nods dumbly as he observes the difference in size between his hand and yours. your lips, soft and inviting, curve around the words you’re saying. he might be a little distracted.

“—earth to boss man,” he hears you call. he jolts back, then chuckles sheepishly.

“sorry, i was distracted,” mingyu rubs his neck. “could you repeat that?”

“sure,” you agree easily. you tell him — again — about a new potential company partnership, then about a little feud that seems to be starting between two of your coworkers, and finally you offer to make him coffee.

“you look tired and out of it,” you observe. “maybe coffee will help. i can bring you some.”

he wants to laugh. he’s not tired, no, he’s just horny and his wet dream is standing in front of him.

“coffee sounds nice,” he says instead. “thank you.”

you step back out of his office to make him his coffee, and he slumps back in his chair, groaning. you’re perfect. he might be a good boss, but a large part of it is because he has you — you point out all the little, blossoming problems that may become major issues over time so he can stomp them out before they even start, and you’re more than competent at your job. it helps that you’re easy on the eyes, too, always presentable and pretty and looking like someone he wants to ruin.

—

when you return with your coffee, you expect to hand it over and return to your desk.

what you’re absolutely not expecting, however, is for your boss to ask you to stay.

you stay frozen in place as mingyu stands and rounds the table before finally stopping in front of you.

“i have to admit,” mingyu says, hands clasped behind his back. “you’re… quite captivating. you’re a hard worker, you’re a sociable person, and it’s been wonderful having you here.”

you nod, confused. he steps closer to you, and oh — now you can smell the scent of his cologne, musky and masculine, and now you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

“am i making you uncomfortable?” he asks.

you hesitate. the mature, correct answer would be yes, please step away from me, sir. but is that really the case? his scent permeates the air. his choice of cologne matches him well. subtle but memorable, powerful but not overbearing. you press your thighs together, swallowing.

“no,” you squeak.

“then, may i touch you?”

you nod, but his eyes narrow. “words, darling.”

you shiver. “yes. please.”

“good girl.” satisfied, he rests his hands on your waist, and one hand moves up to stroke your cheek gently. “you’re beautiful, you know? captured my attention since day one. my attention, and everyone else’s. i think half your coworkers might have a crush on you.”

you lean into his touch, eyes fixated on his, not really paying attention to anything he’s saying. you’re certain you’ve had a wet dream just like this before.

“can i kiss you?”

in lieu of an answer, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a passionate kiss. you moan when he squeezes your waist, and he licks into your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours. it’s sloppy and disgusting and wet and you love it.

“mr kim,” you whine. he shushes you.

“just mingyu.”

“mingyu… please touch me.” you guide his hand to your chest, and he gropes your tit through your clothes, groaning.

“shit, it’s even better than i imagined,” he murmurs.

“do you wanna fuck them?”

his eyes go wide and he moans loudly. “fuck, yes.”

the two of you make quick work of your shirt — he nearly sends the buttons of your shirt flying with how frantic he was, and he snaps the clasp of your bra with a flick of his fingers. you tug your shirt out of where it’s tucked into your skirt and pull it off, throwing it onto a nearby chair. your bra follows and he eyes your tits greedily. he unbuttons his own shirt, then his pants too, and pulls his hard cock out of his pants.

the size of his cock makes you salivate, excited to have a taste. and his body… his body is sculpted by the gods, all muscle and defined lines. the thin sheen of sweat makes him glow.

he places a cushion on the floor for you. you kneel on the cushion and press your tits together with your arms.

“fuck, baby, you’re perfect,” he moans. he spits onto his cock a few times and strokes it, then positions himself between your breasts. he clenches his abs desperately to hold his orgasm at bay.

slowly, he starts fucking between your tits, grunts leaving his lips with every thrust. he whimpers when you lean your head down to lick at the tip whenever it pokes up between your tits. you allow your own saliva to dribble onto his cock and your tits to ease the slide.

it doesn’t take long — this is probably the hottest situation he’s ever been in — and soon, he’s coming all over your face and breasts with a groan. “shit,” he curses. “you’re too sexy, baby.”

with a thumb, he swipes up all the cum on your face and feeds it to you, and you accept it with a dazed smirk. mingyu helps you stand again, and starts sucking hickeys onto your breasts, licking up his own release and leaving his marks behind. then, he presses his lips back onto yours, passing the cum in his mouth to you. it’s so hot and dirty that it makes you dizzy.

his hands slide down to your skirt. he grabs two fistfuls of your ass and moans into your mouth.

“mingyu,” you whine. he coos at you. with one swipe of his arm, he clears his table, folders clattering to the floor.

mingyu lifts you onto the table, then tugs at your skirt hurriedly. you try lifting your ass to help him take the skirt off, but he simply shoves your skirt up your thighs and drops to his knees. “fuck,” you moan. “are you gonna—”

he responds by pressing his nose against your core through your panties. his nose bridge bumps your clit, making you whimper, and the deep inhale he takes nearly makes you cum on the spot.

“smells so good, baby,” he praises. “bet you’ll taste even better.”

he peels your soaked panties off your cunt and slides them off your legs. “can i keep these, darling?”

you moan. “yes,” you reply. “anything you want.”

he slides your panties into his pocket, then presses his face directly into your pussy. there’s no preamble before he’s eating you out frantically, licking and sucking and nibbling, and you grab his hair to ground yourself, nearly screaming in pleasure. “yes, yes,” you chant, whining loudly. “fuck, i’m going to cum so fast.”

soon, you’re fucked dumb, his tongue putting you into a daze, and all you can do is babble mindlessly and cry.

with a shout, you cum onto his face, and he licks you through it, nose pressing insistently at your clit. you jerk in sensitivity for a minute before you finally push him off.

mingyu looks absolutely pussy-drunk, eyes glazed over with a dumb smile on his face. “so good,” he murmurs. “can you go again?”

“i would, but i really want your cock inside me now, mingyu.” you pant.

he springs into action. mingyu stands from where he’d been kneeling and shoves his pants down his legs. you watch, dazed, as he steps out of them and steps towards you.

then, he grabs you by the hips and flips you onto your front, making you squeal.

“mingyu?!”

“been wanting to bend you over my desk,” mingyu says gruffly. “fuck you from behind. can i, baby?”

you moan. “please, yes, give it to me—”

you hear him spit again, and then the head of his cock presses against your entrance. he’s so much bigger than you’d anticipated. you scramble to grab the edge of the table as he rocks into you slowly, a long, loud whine forced out of you. his spit may not have been enough lube, but there’s more than enough of your slick to ease the slide.

his cock bullies into you, stretching you out deliciously and almost painfully, and it never seems to end.

“what a pretty pussy,” he murmurs. “taking my cock so well.”

“a-ah, love your cock,” you babble. “‘s so good.”

“god, i’ve barely even started and you’re already fucked dumb.” he growls. “aren’t you just so perfect for me, doll?”

he hisses when your cunt clenches around his cock. “yes!” you cry. “all for you. all yours.”

his hips buck at your words, and the remaining couple of inches are shoved into your cunt, making you cry out in surprise. he rubs your back in apology, and as soon as you give him the go-ahead, he starts fucking you earnestly.

he gropes your tits and your ass and admires the view of you sprawled out across his work desk, naked save the skirt bunched around your waist, face plastered sideways onto the tabletop. he leans forward and fucks you harder, and you scramble desperately, trying to find something to hold onto, fingertips clawing at the table.

“ungh, mingyu,” you moan. “s-so good, so good—”

“yeah? tell me how much you like my cock, baby.”

“so big, so warm,” you cry. “harder, harder!”

he pistons into you and the pleasure overwhelms you. your cunt clenches around his cock as you try to hold back your orgasm.

“fuck, baby,” he swears. “so tight and warm around me. i’m not going to last long.”

you’re sobbing now. “g-gonna cum,” you whimper. “wanna cum.”

he slides a finger over your clit, and that’s all it takes for you to cum with a scream. he fucks you through your orgasm into oversensitivity, and you clench around him sporadically as you twitch, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

“where d’you want it?” he asks, teeth clenched.

“inside, please give it to me inside,” you answer quickly.

with a growl, he starts to cum, shooting hot semen into your pussy. it makes you cum again, arching violently, and he fucks you through both of your orgasms.

finally, he slows, and pulls out gingerly. he flips you onto your back, then watches the cum start dripping out of your pussy with a dopey, satisfied grin.

you pant, chest heaving enticingly, as you recover from your two orgasms in record time. “well shit,” you mutter. “that was probably the best sex i’ve had in my life.”

“guess it needs to happen again, then,” mingyu says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. you laugh, slapping his arm, and he giggles too, fending off your attacks.

“but for real, though, i do really like you. and. i know we kind of fast-forwarded a little bit, but i’d like if we could try getting to know each other and maybe try dating…?” he asks, suddenly shy.

“i’ll agree to that,” you say, watching him perk up. “on one condition.”

his eyes are bright with puppy-like excitement. “what is it?”

you point down your body at the cum pooling on your pussy and dripping onto the table. “find a way to clean that up.”

with a smirk, he drops to his knees again.

“with pleasure.”

#min-imum #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #mansaenetwork

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gabessquishytum · 6 months ago

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While I love Dream with past shitty partners before he meets Hob having his his mind blown after he finally experiences what a good partner actually is' how about...

Hob was Dreams first love, and with that his first everything, They did the whole romance cliché of childhood friends to a serious relationship (complete with years of pinning) on the very edge of marriage with a white picket fence and kids Dream and Hob have the worse fight ever seen by either of their families, in the end Dream storms out into the rain and Hob is left yelling at him from the doorway (1889 anyone?).

Within a week Dream has moved away to pursue his dream as a artist and writer and Hob is on a plane to start backpacking around the world. The break up is swift and painful,

Eventually Dream starts dating again, but he quickly realizes that he keeps attracting the wrong sort of people; Killala started chatting up some guy obsessed with stars the second she thought his back was turned. Alianora had only dated him because Desire dared her too, Nada has tried to use him to further her families business and Titania had already been fucking married! The less said about Cori the better.

In a different world perhaps Dream would have clung on, would have delt with it and accepted what he could get. Just believed it was all he was worthy of but the thing is Dream has already experienced what it was like to have a partner who sees you as an equal. Who loves you is faithful to you and who cares about your opinion. Dream knows what he is worth and it was so much more than what any of those peoples were going to give him.

Over a decade and a half later and Dream returns to his hometown for the first time with his little Orpheus on his hip. The boys mother Calliope was a fellow lover of the arts and a famous singer. Their combined passion had lead to several award winning pieces and the creation of their beloved son but three months into a relationship had proven they were just not compatible for anything long term but Dream is forever thankful for her steady friendship.

With Calliope away on tour and no deadlines for him to complete Dream takes his son to the local park where the boy becomes fast friends with another little boy named Robin Gadling the only son of recently widowed Robert (Hob) Gadling.

It seems the Hob with his wonderfully soft dad-bod and slightly greying temple can still ignite the same burning desire within Dream as he did when Dream was a young bright-eyed twenty year-old.

This is so glorious, can you imagine their eyes meeting across the park, past the swing sets and slides and toddlers tugging on their hands!!! Dream is sure he must be, well, dreaming. He's thought of Hob often in the past few weeks that he's been back around town, occasionally fantasising about what he might look like now. He just wasn't expecting to see his former lover and have the word "daddy" immediately pop into his head.

And it seems that Hob is, literally, a daddy. He kneels to speak to Robin, who is gesturing wildly towards Orpheus, and Dream can't even move because seeing Hob being attentive to his son is just. So beautiful. But of course Orpheus drags him over to Robin and Hob gets to his feet and he's somehow even more glorious. Dream didn't think it was possible but he immediately falls right back in love with a man he hasn't seen for over 15 years.

Hob is shy and a little withdrawn, seeming like he doesn't want to offend Dream or freak him out by being too friendly. Truthfully Hob doesn't want his heart broken again. And maybe he'd be better at resisting temptation, but Robin wants more time with Orpheus and Hob can never resist his son's puppy eyes. So he finds himself sitting beside Dream on a bench, just like how they used to feed the birds together in the old days. Their thighs brush together and Hob feels like they were never even apart. He could just hold Dream’s hand right now and they could go back to how it used to be. He hopes that Dream feels it too. That he won't be disappointed that Hob is tired, and grieving, and not in the shape he used to be.

Maybe Dream will work up the courage to tell him that his weariness and the fact that he's a little frayed around the edges make him all the more perfect. Because they match each other, perfectly.

#alyholmesz #the sandman #dreamling

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mercurygray · 2 years ago

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Co-signing all of this, as it is excellent advice! Someone asked me a very similar question in 2021 regarding my fanfic The Darkening Sky, which is set during World War Two; my answer is here. Also, if you would like a book directly relevant to the concept of 'no one knows what's going on' I recommend John Keegan's The Face of Battle, which discusses this directly, and Alexander Rose's Men of War, which was inspired by Keegan. (Yes, that Alexander Rose.)

(And while I doubt any of my bookshelf would be helpful to a Tallster fic, I have more reading recommendations from when I wrote for the Turn fandom!)

Gosh. The hardest part of planning to write a tallster fic is realizing how much history was condensed for the sake of the show, and then the deeper you start reading (which is still relatively surface) the more you struggle whether to write historically accurate or lean into the fact that it's already not and instead write something that passes as 'appropriate' for the time-period. How the hell do you do it (awe)?

Hello, Delightful Human!

Casual blog readers, this Delightful Human left a truly wonderful comment on my huge Tallster multichapter and now seeing their username always makes me smile.

First of all, from this ask it sounds like you yourself are embarking on a historically accurate (ish) Tallster fic, to which I give you my most heartfelt encouragement and sincere condolences.

I really didn't know what I was getting into with Wind and Water. When I wrote Chapter 1, naive and with good intentions, the only historical understanding I had of the American Revolution was what was presented in the TV show. Not being American myself, it was never covered in school, nor had I ever been interested in it until I saw my two rogue boys swashbuckling across the screen playing at being spies.

So I know intimately the dilemma you present. Once I started delving, and oh boy, did I ever delve, I realized it was going to be impossible to present every aspect of the events I wanted to highlight in a way that captured properly and respectfully every point of view I wanted to include. To this day, I don't know about the major campaigns before and after Valley Forge, nor the greater political context of Washington's position and relation to Congress. (You know who does? @tallmadgeandtea)

To me, it was always more important to stay true to the emotional core of the story, and for that, I realized my ignorance wasn't as big a stumbling block as I thought. Nobody knows what's going on in a war, not really. Most of the events you're writing about were experienced through very very narrow perspectives. Ben is trying as hard as he can to figure it out, and even he gets it wildly wrong, endangering the people he loves most. On a personal level, on a soldier level, on a Caleb-and-Ben level, the things that were going to impact them were the things I prioritized learning about. And I leaned into the chaos. Centuries later, we still don't have clear answers and almost all the investigation comes from the Patriot side of the war. Getting it 'clean' and 'correct' was no longer the objective. Mess and confusion are central to any conflict.

So the setting became really important. The Frontier, the forests, the hills. The feel, the cold, the sensory bits. (I also played a stunning amount of Assassin's Creed III while I was writing, which may or may not have helped with some of the scenes.)

And honestly, I got a lot wrong. About two years into writing You've Caught Me Between Wind and Water, I submitted an early chapter of it to a writing critique group and was promptly informed just how much bigger and more industrial the Valley Forge encampment was than how I'd envisioned it. I pulled in elements of that knowledge into subsequent chapters, gently massaging the portrayal of the camp in my narrative. Wasn't until about Chapter 9 that I started reading Joseph Martin Plumb's account of the war, at which point it really sank in just how miserable and dire a soldier's experience was. So then that helped fuel Shepherd's characterization, and Reggie and Freddie and Stanley.

So, the short answer is:

Keep the emotions front and centre. The rest is just very clever window dressing, really.

Read as many historical sources as you can and learn when to draw the line and make executive decisions (maybe Washington didn't give Ben an earful about the horses this month, but it did happen and so it could have happened). People haven't really changed in millennia, so make them human before you make them historical figures. Remember that it's your story and you can include anyone you want (and indeed, restore them to their rightful status and importance, cough cough, "Han Yerry", cough.)

Try not to pull your hair out, but remember it grows back. Talk to people who know better than you and read other stories that are historically accurate but don't centre the history. Personal favourite examples from my circle of friends (who I have to promote whenever I can because I think they're all amazing) would be Lucyemers' Bewitching Precision, CrepuscularPetrichor's May 1792, LadyTP (@ladytp)'s ....Lady, where did Seven Autumns go??? I can't find it on AO3! Also ASheepsLife's Who could resist Deliverance and of course, the most historically accurate one I know about, Cchambers' The Summer Soldier and the Sunshine Patriot.

And thank you for asking your question! Hope this helps.

#writing advice #historical writing advice #the care and feeding of your friendly writer

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thewriterg · 1 year ago

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why do i cry?

A/n; more headcanons because yay… ermmm plz don’t think that just bc Simon is white this isn’t poc reader friendly coming from a black reader and writer —angstober day;19—

warning(s); dad!simon x daughter!reader, description of self harm, scars, mention of family issues, and language

dad simon! who rushes you into his flat when he looks at your form standing in front of him taking his hand from the waistband of his sweatpants that secured his hand gun to his hip pulling you into chest worrying over your unscathed body as far as the eye reacted questions falling from his tongue quicker than he could catch “what you doing ‘ere sweet girl” he muttered the plain balaclava that rested on his face now gone

dad simon! who’s dead cold heart beats a little quicker when he sees you trying to stop tears from slipping down and flooding your face before he takes your bag sitting it against the arm of his older than age couch before lifting your form into his experienced arms walking you to his bedroom that was almost empty except for essentials like most of the place

dad simon! who cuddles you his body acting as a space heater to regulate your cooling temps rubbing a hand up and down you back his ears perking up when you whispered barley audible to him but he heard nonetheless “can I live with you?” the blonde squeezed his eyes shut in response before resting a kiss to your forehead “your alright you can stay”

dad simon! Who watches you sleep from his door frame curled up while his duvets swallowed you whole shutting the door with a gentle ‘click’ pulling his phone from his pocket scrolling through his contact until he got to your mothers number typing on it as you leaned against is island counter rubbing a hand through his hair the usual cool and collected demeanor he carried no longer around when it came to you, when it came to his world.

dad simon! Who watches you wither away the next days your with him he could see the battle of depression you were in he’d been there himself too many times to count and hated that you had to experience it the little no appetite, no energy to take care of yourself which he had no problem doing for you, when you wake up on time but lay in bed until your late.

dad simon! Who at one point bulldozed you out of bed a soft threat of force feeding you falling from his lips he hate it got to that point he felt like he sounded like his father… no he said it because he cared about your wellbeing not because you were ‘waisting food he put on the table’

dad simon! who calls out to you when you finally finish a decent portion of your meal stopping you in your tracks your hand resting on your his bedroom door while he motions for you to take a seat with on the couch and you do reluctantly sitting across from him your knee bouncing anxiously and reaches to set his palm on it stopping your fidgeting

dad simon! “what’s going on baby girl? You have to tell me what’s the matter so I can help” you can tell he’s trying to soften his voice even if it is still has that gruff underlying tone but he’s trying and you feel even more guilty for intruding now your throat beginning to close up before putting your hands on your face and you can hear his footsteps expecting the couch to dip under another weight but it had never happened until you felt another palm on the back of yours

dad simon! who frowns as you sob out a “don’t be mad” and even after he reassures you your still not a hundred percent making him swear and promise over everything under the sun and he balances trying not to rush you but also urging you on “I do this thing… where I hurt myself” You sniffle and Simon’s world is crashing down onto him he feels his mouth open to speak he closes it wets his lips with his tongue before opening it again and he stumbles over his words before taking a breath and continuing “what do you mean you hurt yourself? Hurt yourself how?”

dad simon! Who watches you shuffle above him meeting his eyes quickly looking away like a scared animal in the wild before you pulled out a lighter one he recognized from his night stand with a skull on the the front its jaw looked as if it was cracked agape when you opened the lid and Simon struggles not to choke

dad simon! “And I burn sometimes, I’m- I’m sorry dad, I’m so sorry” The blonde holds you into his chest and rocks you gently tears falling down his face that he tried to squeeze away the pain worse than any bullet to his chest or hunters knife to his spleen

dad simon! “It’s okay, it’s alright love, im very proud of you for telling me” he whispered into you hair kissing the crown of your head crying until the sun rises

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 6 months ago

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Hi. I was just reading through all of your headcanons. I was thinking a kinda part 2 situation for one of them. How bout actually adopting the pet mentioned in Farmer and bachelor's choosing to be child free and adopting a pet. Thanks!!

Of course, dear anon! Enjoy the continuation of this headcanon, and thanks for your ask!

_________________________________________

If Farmer's cat was closer to them, then the young cat that Elliott and Farmer had recently taken from the shelter became most attached to the poet. And besides being a new member of their little family, Gertrude (the name of the cat Elliott gave her) became the red-haired man's assistant in writing. Now Farmer doesn't have to worry if their beloved spouse is overworked while they are away from home, their furry friend lays down on Elliott's writing papers, demanding attention immediately. At times, Farmer's cat joins in as well, preventing the writer from labouring further. So Elliott has nothing to do but give up and take a needed break, and not forgetting to give the caring cats attention and yummy treats.

Actually, the idea from the beginning was to take only one puppy, but when three yapping furballs surrounded Sam, begging for pets and treats, the young guitarist's heart squeezed that they would take only one, sharing such a cute family of puppies. So now all three puppies are jumping on the farmhouse couch, sniffing all around and trying to chew on the wooden table. Farmer was a little hesitant, but their husband has been quite responsible in caring for and raising their new family members. Farmer is very pleased to see Sam glowing with happiness, playing with cute and healthy puppies, who have filled their house with joy and fun. And trouble, for the puppies are so energetic!

Shane lay on the cool grass, his eyes closed, afraid to open them again. Because everything that had happened to him in the last year seemed like a dream. He had managed to get out of the hole, towards a better future. Farmer who had supported him in his time of need had become his wonderful spouse, they lived together on a cosy farm, surrounded by crops, flowers, and the chickens they had recently bought from Marnie. The small, fluffy, yellow chicks chased Shane like a mother hen until he lay down to rest on the grass, and the chickens climbed onto his lap, chest, and arms, not wanting to end the chase game. Shane dared to open his eyes... Nope, not a dream after all, but a beautiful reality, full of love and small little chicks.

Words cannot describe how overjoyed Alex was when old Dusty jumped and wagged his tail like a young dog and played with the two new puppies that the athlete and Farmer had found on the streets of Zuzu City. The couple wanted to see if there were any pedigree puppies for sale at all, but Alex spotted a box near a trash can on the street, from which came a pitiful whimper. Two little mongrels, they were about a month old.... The same age Dusty had been when he was found and fostered in Pelican Town, making a cute wood home for him.... The decision was made immediately, and Farmer agreed with Alex. Now all three dogs, one old and two young pups, were having fun and enjoying life, filling the lives of their kind owners with joy as well.

Sebastian stood in a proud fatherly pose, smiling and crossing his arms, as Abigail and Sam came to visit him and Farmer and looked at the frogs in the large, beautiful aquaterrarium. Some frogs sat quietly on the thick bark of the tree, while others were too shy and hid in their houses. But all the green, bouncy little ones came out, when they heard Sebby shacking a jar of their favourite worms in his hand. Farmer stood nearby and enjoyed the amazed look on Sammy and Abby's faces as their husband showed his friends how to properly feed the frogs. "We've named all of them except one. Maybe we should call her Abigail." Sebby deftly dodged a friendly elbow nudge from the purple-haired girl, and Farmer laughed ringingly after that.

Harvey's friend almost died laughing when he received a video from the doctor, where three hungry kittens decided not to wait for Harvey to pour food into their bowls, but to get it themselves by climbing up his pyjama pants. The video is two minutes long and is accompanied by the sounds of demanding meows, Harvey's quiet "ouch's" because the kittens' claws are pretty sharp, and Farmer's laughter behind the scenes as they video their spouse. The video was taken six months ago, and the kittens are now grown up, happy and energetic. They still love climbing on Harvey's legs, and their claws have become even sharper. But both the doctor and Farmer love them from the bottom of their hearts, and Harvey's friend is now sure that he has given the kittens into good hands.

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv headcanons #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv alex #thanks for the ask!

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petrichor-idyllic · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! I wanted to request a fic with minho maybe where the reader (she/her) is shy? And a mom friend too maybe like feeding everybody 24/7 and caring all sort of stuff with her like band aids and napkins.

(Sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language)

I think I can just about manage this.

This is kind of short because I really could just not think of a decent plot for the life of me.

Writer's block is a killer man.

SOFT AT HEART

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMERY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

You've been harbouring a long-term crush on Minho, but the problem is you're shy and nervous, and Minho is anything but. Of course, Minho isn't the only Glader you care about, but it's hard to bond with a group of rowdy boys sometimes. So, you show your affections by taking care of them instead. Unbeknownst to you, your subtle acts of kindness give Minho the drive he's been missing for a long time- and maybe he needs a bit more than what he's getting.

WARNINGS: None, really.

You're the odd one out in the Glade. Of course, there's the blinding obvious that you're the only girl amongst, but also you're more reserved than your counterparts.

You've always felt like there's a strange barrier between you and the other Gladers- maybe it's because of your gender, maybe it's because of your personality. But it doesn't matter; something about you just doesn't quite click.

It's not that you don't like the boys. You love them, in fact- they're normally kind and understanding with you even though they aren't with each other. They have a lot of respect for you.

And the feeling is mutual.

But, you can't exactly go around telling a bunch of teenage boys how much you care about them without them getting the wrong idea. Not that you're great with your words to begin with. So, you show your affections through acts of service.

You offer food and water to tired Gladers who are too busy to stop working to have lunch- mainly Buliders, Track-hoes and Slicers. You carry bandages and band-aids for slight injuries that happen to those around you, and you always offer an understanding ear when the boys want to vent their frustrations, even if you don't always know what to say.

Maybe your subtle acts of kindness would just be a typical friendly gesture if it weren't for the fact that you have a massive crush on Minho.

You swore to yourself when you first came up in the Box that you wouldn't get romantically involved with any of the boys. And you've made that painfully clear to everyone. They're your friends, and they all see you as the big sister role you've put yourself in- but Minho?

Minho.

A flaw in your plan, to say to the least.

It's not like you guys talk all the time or spend loads of time together, but you have got into the habit of getting up early and meeting the Runners at the Doors to give them their lunch and drinks for the day.

You only do this so they can have more time in the Map Room before they leave for the day, which is some much needed precious seconds. You started doing this after you overheard Minho complaining about feeling like there's not enough time in the day. So, when you started showing up first thing in the morning, waking up earlier than most of the Glade, he definitely took a shine to you.

It's a simple gesture, really. One that doesn't seem to faze the other Runners in the slightest, but Minho always seems more determined and happier after seeing you. Even the Runners have pointed out a shift in work ethic to Ably.

Though, with you starting to cooperate with talking to Minho and having actual conversations, the way he looks at you is starting to make you melt.

You don't really know what it is about Minho. He's sarcastic and kind of mean sometimes, and he's definitely not scared of speaking his mind or acting recklessly. He's one of the highest regarded Gladers around, for obvious reasons, but he's probably also one of the most feared and powerful.

You've actually witnessed Minho tell Alby what to do.

What a day that was.

But that might be why you started liking him- because he isn't like that with you. Sure, you'll get the occasional witty comment or eye roll, but for the most part, he's kinder with you. It's kind of common knowledge that you're the Glade's soft spot, but that's more applicable to Minho than anyone else.

"Dude, you're staring again," Ben leans against a tree at the edge of the Deadheads where him and Minho occasionally spend free time away from the other members of the Glade.

"Hm?" Minho hums, sitting on the ground, not really paying attention to anything Ben has to say. That's nothing new.

"You're staring- again," Ben scoffs, crouching down next to him, "yanno you can talk her without her feeding us at the Doors?"

Minho glares at his friend. "I'm not staring."

Minho is a liar. You've plagued him for a while, even before you started providing for them. Of course, this is the expectation with being the only girl, but Minho has changed- like said before.

"You totally are, shuck-face."

"Slim it, Ben- you don't know what you're talking about."

"You're soft on her, man; everyone can see it."

"Everyone's soft on her, shuck-face. That's why she's made it clear she's not gonna date or any of that klunk with us."

"I mean..." Ben drags out the word, "you never know, right?"

"Dude, what are you getting at here?"

Ben shrugs. "I don't know, man, I'm just... picking up a vibe." Minho squints at his friend, bewildered that Ben thinks that's any kind of explanation.

"The shuck are you talking about?"

Ben sighs. "You've just been better, dude. It's nice having you back to normal."

Minho didn't need to ask. He knows what Ben's talking about. Before you showed up, Minho was rapidly losing hope. Having fully mapped the whole Maze and still without an exit, or even so much of a sign of an exit, it's kind of hard to keep hopes up.

But when you came up and started going around trying to raise everyone's spirits, despite being slightly awkward; he started to pick up speed again. The Glade became more positive, and Minho started to gain feelings for you.

Despite what you'd made clear.

"I think you're looking too much into it," Minho huffs, sitting back properly, leaning fully against the tree.

"I don't-"

"Hey!" You attempt to shout over to the boys, realising they're yet to come to dinner after the long day. You're holding two bowls of stew as you walk over. "You guys okay?" You ask, passing the food to the boys in turn.

Minho takes the dish from you. "Playing Glade mother as per usual?"

You avoid his gaze. "Yeah, well, you guys haven't eaten yet and Frypan is impatient- can't have our best Runners going hungry, can we?"

"Ah, so you think I'm the best?" Ben's tone is a kind of fake flirty, probably to gauge Minho's reaction. You just blink at him.

"I-I mean, I don't really know much about running, but I'm pretty sure Minho is the Keeper for a reason- so, uh, sorry?" Your words don't quite make sense, not wanting to insult Ben, but making your opinion known.

Minho can't help but smirk at this as Ben fake pouts. His eyes land on you, flickering up and down for a second, almost unintentionally; which makes your face feel warm.

"Anyway," you clear your throat, "I'm gonna..." You throw your thumb over your shoulder, "yanno."

"Yeah, catch you later." You give an awkward wave to Minho before you turn and walk slightly faster than normal away.

"You're whipped, bro," Ben chuckles between eating spoonfuls of stew, resulting in getting punched in the leg.

"Shut up, man."

Minho thought about this for a while- longer than he'd care to admit. He does like you, and you seem to be more friendly and talkative with him than you do the other Gladers.

Maybe he should just bite the bullet.

Maybe just asking you on a date wouldn't be that bad of an idea. I mean, the worst you can say is no, right? And you're a nice girl, of course, you'd be gentle about it.

Unless, you're not and you reject him and humiliate him.

Okay, so Minho might have a fear of rejection that he didn't know he had. It's not worth the awkwardness.

It's not until the next Bonfire night that Minho reconsiders this. You've taken a shine to the new Greenie.

And by "taken a shine", I mean the poor boy is rocking back and forth, curled into a ball and you're desperately trying to comfort him. He does seem to have relaxed a bit, but the Maze is a lot to take in.

He's been given Gally's Special Brew, and the alcohol has definitely calmed his nerves. So, you take a break, retreating to a more secluded area- still within shouting distance if you're needed, but far enough away to take a breather. You lean back against a log, letting your head test on the wood.

"Here," your eyes flicker open, seeing Minho standing over you, a drink in his hand.

He'd been watching you for a while, and seeing how dedicated and caring you've been literally all day has shown him he needs to make some kind of move.

"Thanks," you sit up straight, taking the drink off of him as he takes the spot next to you, both of you facing away from the festivities. "You not joining in?"

"Nah," he scoffs, taking a sip of his own drink.

"I guess you never really do, huh?" He smiles at you; he always feels warm inside when you show him that you pay attention to him. You pay attention to everyone, but sometimes it feels like you pay extra attention to him.

Probably because you do, but he doesn't know that.

"You know me so well," he scoffs and you roll your eyes before he playfully shoves you- something you wouldn't have the courage to do.

"'Course- I always pay attention to people I like," a smirk appears across Minho's face as he slightly raises his eyebrow. It takes you a second, but you quickly realise what that sounded like.

Your face immediately starts to burn and you look away. "I didn't mean-"

"Uh huh."

"I didn't!"

"Why do you look so embarrassed then?"

"Shut up," you grumble, hands coming to your face as Minho laughs at you. You've never been good at the flirting thing, and it's not hard to fluster you, but since you actually like Minho, it's drastically worse. "I didn't mean it like that- I just- you're my friend and I-I respect you- and-"

"Do you wanna go on a date?"

You freeze, turning to face him as you blink.

"What?"

Minho stares straight ahead, mainly so he doesn't freak out. "I just figured I'd stop thinking about asking and just actually ask you." You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. "I know you've got this whole dating rule, and you don't want any of that klunk- but I like you, (Y/N). And I used to think that if a girl came up here, I wouldn't care 'cause I've got the Maze to deal with. But, I can't help it- you're just... Good. Everyone here likes you and you're just a good person."

He looks at you, second guessing himself when he sees your completely blank expression.

"I-I don't mean- shuck it," he laughs. "You can say no and I won't be upset; I get it. But I just thought I'd ask. It's just one date, if you want, and then we don't have to do anything else or be anything and forget it even happened if you regret it. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"What would we do?" The question is out of a genuine curiosity than anything. It's not like there are many restaurants or movie theatres in the Glade.

Now it's Minho's turn to blankly blink. "Well, we uh, we could go for a swim in the lake, or I could rob Frypan and we could have a picnic in the Deadheads, or we could just chill somewhere and talk about dumb klunk- whatever you wanna do."

"You've thought about this, huh?" You smile, warmth fluttering through your body as Minho turns a shade of pink, scratching the back of his neck.

"I mean... just a little." You've never seen him be embarrassed before.

It's kind of cute.

"Okay," you say after a second.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll go on a date with you; that picnic sounds good."

He grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah... I kinda like you too, so..."

Minho can't stop smiling, even when you avoid looking at him again.

"You like me too?" You glance at him. He looks perfect, his lopsided smile, his dark hair and face illuminated by the flames behind him.

"Yeah," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "I like you too. A lot, actually."

"Cool," he clears his throat, "cool, that's cool."

"(Y/N)!" Newt calls you, "the Greenie's freakin' out again! Give us a shuckin' hand!"

You roll your eyes, standing up and smiling at Minho once again. "So, it's a date then?"

"Yeah, it's a date- I'll figure out that picnic and let you know."

"Sounds like a plan," you say as you step over the log, trying to hide your smile and not squeal the entire Glade down as you go back to your daily role.

Minho watches you walk away, letting his head drop back when your out of sight. He's completely buzzing and feels on top of the world.

"So," Ben approaches, chuckling at his friend's love-drunk state, "you finally asked her then?"

"Shut your shuckin' mouth."

Yo, here's another Minho piece, though I am struggling with all the Minho work atm. He's one of my favourite all time characters but I'm running out of new ways to do the same thing, if that makes sense? So sorry if this one isn't as good- my quality is going down hill lmao.

I still hope you kind of like, regardless :))

#🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #minho tmr #minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #tmr imagines #minho maze runner

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ktredshoes · 5 months ago

Text

gonna work on this...

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alexsoenomel · 2 years ago

Text

Zippo Lighter (Dean Winchester x Reader fluffy smut)

Request: Hi 😊 would you do a Dean Winchester imagine where youre secretly having a crush on each other but not admitting it. Then one time Sam is out and you're alone at the motel, so it happens you accidentally walk in the bathroom while Dean takes a shower. You get all flustered but Dean takes the chance to grab you and kiss you and you end up in bed making soft love that night. In the morning Sam finds you cuddling and is just happy you finally got together

Summary: You were born with a very special and powerful gift. This is the story of how you met the Winchesters and fell for the older one.

Pyrokinesis /ˌpaɪroʊkɪˈniːsɪs/ —The ability to set objects or people on fire or to supernaturally project fire from one's own being through the concentration of psychic power.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: mentions of rape, abuse and death, AGE GAP (DEAN IS 35 AND THE READER IS 20), sweet and vanilla sex (reader is a virgin)

Word count: 7,505 (OOPS! I got carried away...)

Note: I LIVE FOR MUTURAL PINING OKAY! I put my own little twist to it and the only thing I left out from the request was when Sam finds them together....I kinda wanted a funny ending. Request by @tieddown-withbattleshipchains

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

ALSO HUGE THANK YOU TO MY QUEEN FOR BEING THE BEST AND HELPING ME GROW AS A WRITER! LOVE YA GIRL! @ambergoddess444ALSO CHECK OUT HER BLOG!! SHE IS AN AMAZING WRITER HERSELF AND IS CURRENTLY WORKING ON AN AMAZING SERIES CALLED LAWFUL BALANCE!!!!

It was said that being different was, is and will, most of the time, be a bad thing. Why? Probably because people usually didn't understand why someone was different. Sure, there are good human beings in this world, but most of the time, when you hear something filled with hatred it tends to stay with you longer than the good things. That's why you kept things quiet.

You didn't really have good friends and your family died in a fire...a fire you started when you were just a little girl in diapers, crying yourself to sleep. One moment you were crying in your crib for mommy to pick you up and feed you, and the next, everything was on fire....except you. You still didn’t know what exactly happened. That day you became an orphan, depending on others and your home was an orphanage near the house you once lived in. You weren’t happy there whatsoever. You had no friends, the food was awful and the women who were supposed to keep you safe didn’t care and treated you like garbage. No one liked you, no one wanted you…so you decided to run.

The night before your 18th birthday you packed a bag and finally, when everyone went to sleep, at around 3am, you left and never came back. When they finally realized you were gone, they were furious. Of course they tried to look for you, but failed. You were far gone from your city and everything you knew. It was time to start over.

That was two years ago.

Now, at the age of 20, you were content and living your life instead of just surviving. You worked as a janitor in a local high school in Lebanon, Kansas. It wasn’t much but you had your own little place, some money to survive and had a somewhat normal life. You thought you had finally run away from your past, and as far as your outstanding ability went, you decided to shut it down. You didn’t think about it and just for a second it seemed like you had finally moved on. You were even thinking about going to college and finally doing something you loved. Being a janitor wasn’t something you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

Everything seemed fine, you managed to make some friends at that high school (more like people you were friendly with); some of them were students rushing desperately to graduate and go to college, some of them were even teachers, and for the first time you felt accepted, which was ironic considering you worked in the most judgmental place on Earth.

Who knew everything was about to change one night? You sure didn’t. You were clueless.

At around 1am on a Friday night you were awakened by the sound of the glass shattering. You got up and went to the kitchen only to see a shadow of a man.

“Who the hell are you?” You asked. You weren’t scared, you were angry and that wasn’t good for either one of you.

“Hey there.” The man spoke. His voice sent cold shivers down your spine, and not the good kind. It was the kind that made you sick to your stomach.

“Don’t move.” He said, pulling out a gun. “You’re going to be a very good girl for me tonight.”

You still weren’t terrified. The man had the face of a true monster and you still weren’t scared. He told you he was going to rape you and rob you, and you still didn’t flinch. Instead you were raging with anger. Your jaw was painfully clenched as your hands formed two fists. Slowly you approached him, step by step…

“Don’t fucking move.” He ordered but you didn’t listen.

“You told me to be good, right?” You asked innocently while the muzzle of the gun was on your chest. Slowly you put your palm on it. “I will be good I promise.”

The smell of melted metal filled the room, along with the smoke and…light?

A small beam of light came directly from your palm, intriguing the man to become fixated on it. You, on the other hand, didn’t notice. A few seconds later, the gun muzzle was shut, and the gun became useless.

“What the fuck did you do?” The man asked, as panic started to set in.

You weren’t feeling right. You knew he couldn’t hurt you now but you were still angry. He broke into your home, with the intent to assault you and might try again if you don’t do something. The anger was too much…

“Oh nothing…” You said calmly and pressed your thumb on his chest imagining the fire burning on that exact spot.

The man was confused until he looked down and saw his sweater on fire. He started to panic and tried to find the nearest object to put the fire out. It was useless; he was a dead man from the moment he broke into your apartment.

You stepped back from him and slowly moved your hand up in the air. The fire spread all over him now and he was screaming. That scream of pure agony woke you up. You quickly realized what you had done and it was time to run. No time to get your stuff, you just grabbed your wallet and left. Soon,the whole ground floor, where your apartment was, was on fire…

You didn’t know where to run or where to hide. You didn’t have a car and you wanted to leave town as soon as possible. What happened? What have I done?

Those were the questions you couldn’t get out of your head while running God knows where.You didn’t know where your legs were taking you, but you couldn’t stop running. It was dark and it felt like every soul was asleep except you. The night seemed so endless and hollow.

Why can’t I just be normal? I want to be normal.

It was probably 7am and you were still on the move. You unknowingly passed the highway and entered the woods you had no knowledge existed in the first place. Eventually you noticed the sun was about to rise and you were exhausted.

Still in shock from previous events, you felt like screaming. Tears were coming down your cheeks and your stomach made the loudest noise letting you know you were hungry. Realizing you were lost, you decided to sit down and rest for a bit. You let your mind slowly drift to sleep as you listened to the sounds surrounding you; birds chirping, wind blowing, branches swinging and…someone running?

You immediately got up, feeling anxious yet again. In your mind it could be a serial killer or a dangerous animal.

“HELLO?”

Nothing.

“HELLO?”

Nothing yet again.

You slowly started to panic, feeling like you could burst at any minute and setting everything on fire again scared the living shit out of you.

“Hey.” Someone said behind you.

You turned around, and faster than lightning, from your hand a small ball of fire flew and almost hit the guy who was standing behind you. Luckily, he was fast enough to throw himself on the ground and the fire hit a tree, missing him by a few inches.

“What the hell?” You mumbled and looked at your hand. This was new. You have never done something like this. Imagining where you wanted fire to burn was the only way you could create it.

Sometimes you would lose control (like last night) but you never thought fire could leave your body just like it did now. It was like you were a living, breathing lighter.

“I’m so sorry.” You said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t tell anyone what you saw. Fuck.” By this point you were having a full blown panic attack in the middle of the woods with a stranger. What a perfect scenario, you thought.

“Hey, first of all I won’t.” The stranger got up and cleaned the dirt off his shorts. He was tall, very tall, with long-ish hair and a pleasant face. By the looks of his clothes he was jogging. Who in their right state of mind jogs in the middle of the woods at 7 o’clock in the morning? Clearly this guy. “Second, how did you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You said wiping tears off your cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Okay. This is going to sound crazy but I live in a bunker near these woods with my brother, we deal with this kind of stuff all the time. You’re clearly stressed out and tired, do you want to come with me? We can sort everything out.”

“What? So you have seen stuff like this?” You asked, genuinely surprised by his answer.

“This? No…but I have seen a lot of things people only dream about.”

“You sound like a character from a TV show…or a mental patient.” You said, still questioning whether he was telling the truth.

“Yeah. People usually tend to think I’m crazy.” He smiled.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Think about it this way, you can kill me if I try anything.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

He seemed genuine and you felt like you could trust him. He was right; you could kill him if you wanted to. Your powers were growing and you could feel it. You didn’t want it, but it was out of your control.

On your way to “the bunker”, you explained to him what happened: the stranger in your home, destroying his gun and killing him…he seemed to believe your every word. His name was Sam Winchester and he wasn’t lying. He did in fact live with his brother in these woods. It was some sort of a reinforced underground shelter, bunker of some sort; it screamed men cave but it was cozy and felt like an actual home.

“Hey Sam.” Someone emerged from the kitchen. A man in a long, gray robe with morning bed hair and coffee in his right hand. “Who’s this?”

“This is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is my brother Dean.“ He looked at him and just nodded.”I will explain later. Now do you want to take a shower while I talk to my brother?”

“That would be nice, thank you.” You said.

Sam gave you a towel, a clean shirt and showed you where the guest room was, along with the bathroom. You were still a little anxious and on the edge after everything that had happened the previous night, but strangely enough, you knew everything would be okay in the end. You could trust Sam.

“I’m hungry and I’m not gonna ask anything until I eat my breakfast.” Dean said calmly, looking at his plate of pancakes like he was looking at the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I? Sam smiled.

“Oh yeah.”

After 10 minutes of Dean stuffing his face with pancakes and Sam looking at his laptop as usual, you were finally done with the shower and the older brother was ready to ask some questions.

“Okay first of all, why did you let a stranger use my shower?” Dean asked.

“It’s a guest bathroom, Dean.”

“Still…What’s her deal?”

“I ran into her while jogging…she’s…” He didn’t know how to explain it to him because he wasn’t quite sure what he witnessed in the first place.

“What?” Dean was growing impatient, you could hear it in his deep and sharp voice.

“She can create fire.” He finally spat it out. “I found her in the woods scared and alone and she threw a ball of fire at me.”

“And you brought her here?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“I scared her. The fire hit the tree.”

Dean wasn’t pleased with his brother and the decision to bring a complete stranger to their home, but of course, Sam already knew that and still decided to help you. He knew what it was like to feel completely alone, so he wanted to help.

“Still she could have killed you Sam.” Dean yelled.

“But I didn’t mean to.” You said standing behind them with wet hair and face almost red after a hot shower. The shirt Sam gave you was just above your knees but you were still wearing your dirty pajama bottoms. “I panicked and I’m so sorry Sam.”

“I believe you. Now, let's figure this out.”

You nodded and sat next to Dean while Sam was still searching for something on his laptop. “There it is.” He mumbled and showed you the article. Damn, those journalists were fast. It was about the dead guy in your burnt down apartment. Luckily no one else got hurt or died. You then showed Dean the article.

“You did this?” He asked. His face was a little tense. He was contemplating if he could trust you or not.

“Yeah. Some guy broke in and threatened to rape me. I got mad.”

“Rape you?” He said after checking the screen once more. The guy you killed was a convicted sex offender.

“Yes. He had a gun.” You added.

“Well, it’s safe to say he got what he deserved. “ Dean said.

“Yeah but my life is ruined.” You said looking at your hands. “I could never live a normal life.”

“What do you mean? Where are your parents?” Sam asked.

You couldn’t even look at him and you sure weren’t about to cry. You told them about your parents, the fire, the orphanage and the abuse you endured and how life has been nothing but running and hiding for you. You have been just surviving for the majority of your life. It became exhausting, but once you finally started living, it all seemed too good to be true. Now you knew, it was. You could never have a normal life.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Your voice was trembling as you struggled not to completely fall apart. “I just want to be normal.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were so angry at yourself it made your heart literally hurt. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack or maybe it was just breaking knowing you lost one thing you wanted the most – normalcy. You excused yourself and went to the guest room where you were staying. As soon as you shut the door you started to cry collapsing onto the floor. You suddenly heard Sam’s voice calling your name.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m a mess, better not. Give me a minute!”

“Okay but know one thing. It’s not your fault you were born like this. It doesn’t matter what you are nor what abilities you have, it only matters what you do. It’s your choice. You were a baby when it happened, (Y/N).”

Sam’s words hit you like a damn truck. He was right, you knew he was, but you couldn’t shake off the guilt you felt. You decided to open the door. You wiped your tears and let him in.

“You sure know your way with words, Sam.” You said, forcing a smile on your face.

“That’s because I’ve been there.” He confessed.

“You said you and your brother deal with all kinds of strange stuff, what exactly do you mean? Are there more people like me?”

He told you he will tell you everything if you stop crying and go back to the library.

“Okay.”

When you got back to the library, Sam proceeded to tell you stories that you would only read in books or see in movies. He told you he and Dean were hunters, but not the ones you thought. They hunted creatures… supernatural beings.

Stories about actual ghosts, demons and even angels followed. Dean even told you God himself existed…and that Lucifer was a tantrum making man-child which made you chuckle. When you asked them about humans with abilities he told you there were people with telekinesis, but your case was unknown to them.

“Well then…” Disappointment and confusion was all you felt in that moment. “This sucks.”

“Want a drink?” Dean asked.

“Yes, please.” You said as a thought followed. I’m not old enough to drink.

Dean went and got you the strongest whiskey he could find. When you took a sip, the burning sensation went straight through your throat. It was strong alright and you have never tasted alcohol before. Strangely enough, it tasted good. It made you clench your eyes shut, but it was really good.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

“Do you think I’m a monster?” You then asked him. Dean was taken aback for a second before he finally answered.

“Nah, you don’t want to kill people, do you?”

“No.”

“You don’t feed off people?”

“No.”

“Then you’re good, don’t worry. Besides, I think it’s pretty awesome what you can do.”

You have never heard someone tell you this; then again no one has ever known what you can do. His words rang in your mind as your gaze went to your now half empty glass, wondering how you drank the amount you did.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re like a walking, talking Zippo lighter.” Dean’s voice was naturally deep and husky; hearing him call you a walking,talking Zippo lighter sent light shivers all over your body. His lips formed a pout, he seemed to really like his little analogy.

Looking at your right hand, scanning every inch of it, you couldn’t get his words off your mind; a walking, talking Zippo lighter. Something in your mind happened that caused the tip of your index finger to make a small flame, indeed like a lighter. You smiled in shock; this was the first time you actually used your ability, without feeling angry. Rotating your hand you imagined the flame getting bigger, and indeed it became bigger.

“Like this?” You asked.

“Wow.” Dean said clearly impressed while Sam had a look of worry written all over his face.

“(Y/N)…” Sam finally spoke in a whisper. Brows furrowed; his face screamed concern. He was afraid you might slip and lose control, like you did with him. You took that as a sign to stop, so you brought your fingers into a fist and the flame was gone.

“Sorry.” You then mumbled.

“You’re indeed a Zippo lighter.” Dean said and lifted his glass. “Let’s drink to that!”

“Cheers!” You said lifting yours and chugged the rest of the whiskey. “What am I going to do though?”

One glass of whiskey wasn’t enough for you to forget your whole situation. You had nowhere to go, only a little money in your pocket that will probably last you a month if you skip dinner every night.

“Tell you what, why don’t you stay with us for a while?” Sam said. “This library is filled with books about the supernatural, there must be something about your ability, we just have to find it.”

“Really?” You asked, looking at Dean for approval.

“We don’t usually do this, heck we don’t do this ever, but if Sam trusts you I trust you. But if you do anything stupid we will have a problem. Got it?” Dean said.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, annoyed because in his eyes, he was basically threatening a child. You were 20, but still apparently a child in his eyes.

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!” You got up from your chair and went straight for a hug.

“Oh, okay then…” Dean said as you wrapped your hands around his neck from behind as he was still sitting and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Dean was definitely surprised by your actions and couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. Then you went and hugged Sam. You felt so small due to his height. His body was firm and he smelled like a winter mountain’s air, fresh.

For the first time in your life you felt safe. These guys just met you and they were willing to take you under their wing and help you find answers to questions that followed you for as long as you have been on this Earth. You couldn’t be more thankful for that.

*********

First few weeks living in the bunker with the brothers was a bit awkward and not for them, but for you. It still kind of was after almost five months of being a part of their lives. Sam became like a brother to you, for the first time in your life you could just let go and tell someone what was bothering you and what was on your mind. He became your best friend.

But Dean on the other hand…

Dean was something else. You found yourself looking at him more and more, but in a way you didn’t understand. It came out of nowhere. The man was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but he also liked rock music, had a weakness for pecan pie and overall was a pretty funny guy with a heart of gold. Of course you couldn’t tell Sam about it, it would make things even more awkward and you definitely couldn’t tell Dean, so you decided to not think about it. Suffer in silence and be dramatic…

You had a pretty good life with them. At first Dean didn’t let you go on hunts with them because he thought you would get hurt, but you took care of that. When a nest of vampires came to your town you made sure to show Dean what you can do. You took down the whole nest with one flame.

“Damn (Y/N)!” He said when he realized the whole nest was dead. It made you blush like a schoolgirl.

Your ability just kept getting stronger. Sam was helping you control it and so far it was working, deep breaths, meditation and surprisingly yoga helped but as far as knowing the origin of your powers… that still remained a mystery. Being an impulsive ass you sometimes had moments when you couldn’t control yourself and lit things on fire. It was a little saddening knowing you might never find an answer where your powers came from but you learned to accept it. So far it was working for you. You were in a good place.

One Monday morning you were eating breakfast with the boys while Sam was on his laptop with a piece of toast in his mouth searching for a case.

“Sam, will you ever eat breakfast without your beloved laptop?” You asked him.

“Nope.” He mumbled.

You looked over at Dean who was looking back at you smiling. He was looking extra good today which made you nervous. Your little crush was still alive and well, tormenting you day and night. You smiled back at him before you heard Sam saying he found a case. Perfect timing, you didn’t want to look for too long and be obvious.

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Los Angeles. Two people dead and one is missing. Eyes burnt.”

“City of angels and dead angels. What an irony.” You said.

“Or demons.” Dean added.

“So are we going?” You then asked.

You were going and you were going right after breakfast. You packed your bags and went within 20 minutes. The ride was going to be long so you packed some snacks, water and beer as well. This was going to be the first LONG drive with the brothers. Almost 24 hours… Sitting in the back seat you couldn’t help but watch Dean as he started the engine and pushed the gas pedal of his Baby. He really loved that car, blasting Led Zeppelin through the speakers, jamming to their music and genuinely being happy.

After a while you put your jacket against the window using it as a pillow and fell asleep. You didn’t get much sleep that night so might as well use the time to nap.

You woke up about two hours later still on the road.

“Good morning.” You heard Dean say.

“Hi (Y/N).” Sam said.

“Hi, are we there yet?” You murmured, still a little sleepy.

They both laughed telling you, you have been asleep for only two hours.

“Damn it.”

The ride was long and exhausting. You listened to Dean’s playlist which you didn’t mind considering you loved classic rock and slept while the older brother was driving. You made a few stops here and there to stretch your legs and have a breath of fresh air before finally arriving in Los Angeles the next day at around 7am. You found a cheap motel and decided to eat and rest for a bit before going to work. The room was relatively small with three beds, a semi clean bathroom and a dining table.

“Dibs on the shower.” You said.

“I’m next.” Sam said, looking at his brother.

“Ugh fine.” You heard Dean as you closed the door.

After a steamy hot shower you felt like you have just been reborn. Because it was hot as hell (pun intended), you put on a pair of shorts, one of Dean’s old Led Zeppelin shirts you “borrowed” and your worn out boots. When you opened the door Dean’s gaze went straight to you. He was obvious but you didn’t see it. You were too tired and hungry to notice anything.

Dean was lost in you and he was quite confused by it. When he first saw you, he thought you were cute but then when you told him you were 20 he slapped himself mentally. He was 35 and it felt weird.

While he was drinking his beer and Sam was taking a shower, he watched you as you roamed around the room packing your stuff searching for God knows what in those damn shorts before you sat down across from him and opened your small bottle of vodka you bought at the gas station. You looked older than your actual age so buying alcohol was never a problem for you.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Vodka.”

“You know you’re not old enough to drink?”

“I will be 21 in five months, leave me be.” You smiled and took a sip. Vodka was strong, burning your throat for a few seconds but it felt so good it woke you up instantly. Drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t smart at all and you knew that, but man you needed that little taste. You were a little nervous being alone with Dean.

You didn’t know but he couldn’t stop thinking how hot you were in those shorts and his shirt. “Why the fuck do I have a crush on a chick who's not old enough to drink?”

*****

The next day started at 6am. Dean woke you with a fresh cup of coffee under your nose.

“Good morning princess.”

His sarcastic tone made you roll your eyes before you even opened them. You got up, eyes still closed, hair all over your face, and took a sip of bitter black coffee. It was good enough to make you open your eyes, as you sat on the edge of the bed, processing your existence.

“Where’s Sam?” You said under your breath.

“Went to check out the bodies. Get dressed! We are going in ten minutes!”

“Without breakfast?” You asked knowing damn well Dean would never skip breakfast.

“With breakfast dumbass! We are meeting him at the diner two blocks away.”

“Good.” You simply said and went to the bathroom.

*****

The whole day was a bust. You checked out the bodies but couldn’t locate the source of the killings and with Cas (a badass angel whom you had a pleasure meeting once) not answering his angel phone, you were kinda stuck.

Later that day another body popped up, but no new leads followed. Annoyed, tired and sweaty in the suits you were wearing pretending to be the FBI, you decided to try again tomorrow. Sam decided to go for a walk and clear his head, while Dean was ready to hit the sack. You were hungry so you decided to grab a burger before going back to the motel.

After eating your Five guys you came back to the room, ready for a shower and some sweet dreams. Where's Dean?

Kicking your boots off, you noticed Dean’s suit on his bed and yet again wondered where he was. You took off the blazer and pants, feeling the warm air brush your skin and relief since it was so damn hot. Wrapping a towel around your naked body you opened the bathroom door only to see Dean standing surrounded by steam with a towel around his hips. You have seen him shirtless before, covered in cuts and blood, but shirtless nonetheless and every time you would tell yourself to not stare for too long.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry.” You said and closed the door immediately. You could feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you tried to shake the same feeling away. Dean was good at reading people and you had to be careful with your silly little crush. You didn’t want to make things awkward.

Dean opened the door, still wearing only a towel.

“You done?” You refused to look at him. Your eyes were looking at the bathroom door right behind him.

“Yeah.” He said. He was admiring the sight before him. Your locks of hair gently touching your shoulders, white towel wrapped around you, you looked tired and beautiful. I will lose my damn mind.

You just nodded and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Deep breaths didn't help, your heartbeat was in your throat, while your body felt unfamiliar and tense.

Meanwhile Dean got dressed and went to bed trying desperately to not think about the view he saw minutes ago. He failed.

Great, now I have a boner.

In the bathroom you took your sweet time to really enjoy the shower. You liked steaming hot showers, your philosophy was: if the skin wasn’t red afterwards, the shower wasn't good enough. You've always loved being hot, summer was your favorite holiday, hot coffee was your favorite drink; you sometimes wondered if your ability shaped your whole personality…BUT feeling hot and bothered because of a man was another story. It wasn't any man, it was Dean Winchester. You shook the sweet sinful thoughts of you and him doing the horizontal tango and focused on washing the shampoo from your hair.

After the shower you brushed your teeth and got into an oversized Mötley Crüe shirt you bought a few years ago in a random music store in Kansas. It covered your ass and was perfect for sleeping. Plus it reminded you of the things that once were and bittersweet memories of your almost normal life.

I wonder how his lips taste. God, I really want to bite his perfect little nose.

You shook your head.

No….skin care!

After finishing your skin care, which only consisted of one serum, you stepped out of the bathroom and saw Dean on his phone, pretending to not scan you as you went under the covers.

God, I love that shirt on her.

I should really do something before Sam gets back.

"(Y/N)?" You heard him as you were trying to get comfortable in a shitty motel bed.

"Yeah?"

She's too young for me.

She doesn't like me.

It's weird.

"Do you still wish to be normal?"

Stupid fucking question.

"Not really, why?"

Dean swallowed nervously, not knowing where to take this conversation.

You were surprised by his question. Why is he asking me this?

"Just wondering, I know how messed up you were when we met."

"You and Sam really helped me accept that part of myself. It's not something I would change." You were lying on your side, facing Dean. Something seemed off about him and you noticed. It felt like secrets were lingering in the air and he refused to say anything. The air was tense. You were nervous.

Maybe I'll get lucky tonight.

You're not in a porn movie (Y/N)! Snap out of it! He probably thinks I'm too young for him?

Should I do something though?

What is he hiding from me?

"Plus, I really like being a walking, talking Zippo lighter." You finally added, reminding him of his little comparison.

He chuckled. "You know, I have one and it's not as badass as you."

You felt your cheeks burning up. You were trying to determine if it was his comment or warm air in the room.

"Yeah well, I'm a collector's item. Unique, I guess." You said and sat up on the edge of the bed. You looked at your left hand before it was engulfed in fire. Dean was watching you closely, hypnotized by the flame. You wanted to try something you have been practicing for a while.

"Open your Zippo, Dean." You told him. He went to the sofa and got his lighter from his jacket. He was only in his boxers but you were too focused on the flame in your hand to fully process.

He opened the silver Zippo he had had for years and before he could say anything you snapped your fingers and a small flame started flying in the air before it settled on the wick.

"Holy shit that's awesome!"

"Yeah? Been practicing control for a bit."

"Well good job Zippie! This is fucking amazing!" For a second he sounded like an excited child in an amusement park.

You chuckled. Zippie. You liked when he gave you nicknames and occasional terms of endearment like sweetheart or darling. It made your little heart dance.

"I really like that." You said and formed a fist making the whole flame disappear from your hand and his lighter.

"What?" He asked. His voice was deep but something changed. You couldn't put a finger on it but your gut was telling you something good was lingering just around the corner. His face was a dead giveaway. You knew Dean, not long, but long enough to recognise the look he had whenever he wanted to devour a woman alive. You’ve seen it like ten times in the past few months. He was a flirty type.

His face was relaxed, smoldering eyes burning right through you, occasionally licking his perfect plum lips.

He likes me.

"I like the nickname Zippie." You finally said as you snapped back to reality.

He didn't say anything. He just put his lighter back in the pocket of his leather jacket and sat on your bed.

"Can I tell you something, Zippie?"

"Yeah, you can." You said, your voice struggling not to completely disappear.

"When I say I think you're badass I really mean that. You're really something else…"

Why can't I just tell her?

You smiled. You knew he thought your ability was awesome but to hear him say it was something else. It was from the heart.

"I believe you."

You sat next to him and put your index finger in front of him. A small yellow flame appeared.

"Make a wish!" You said. He wasn't sure why you did that but he knew exactly what to wish for.

I wish you would kiss me back.

Dean closed his eyes and blew the candle that was your finger.

After he did it, you did exactly the same.

I wish you would kiss me.

"What did you wish for?" You said, not noticing how close your faces were.

"This!" And with that Dean closed the gap between you with a soft kiss on your lips. You could taste the hint of mint right away from his toothpaste while your hand went to cup his cheek before you decided to sit on his lap. Your forehead was resting on his when you broke the kiss.

"I wished the same thing." You confessed.

His hand went in your hair as he smiled and kissed you again, this time letting you know he wanted more. He wanted it all.

You moaned into the kiss and you placed your hands on his cheeks, pulling him closer. His kisses were addictive, sweet and with a taste of something you have never experienced before – lust. You’ve kissed a few, you’ve made out with the few, but never actually felt wanted enough to sleep with someone. Until now.

You broke the kiss, panting like you just ran a marathon.

“Sam’s going to kill you, y’know?” You said as his lips drifted to your neck, leaving a small trail of kisses all over.

“Why do you think that?” He was, of course, clueless.

“It’s not like you’re 15 years older than me Dean.” You said sarcastically. “Plus he sees me as his younger sister.”

“Ew gross!” He answered between kisses. “I mean…I thought I’m too old for you but–”

“But nothing.” You cut him off. “It’s not like I’m 16, give me a break! Plus 35 is a perfect age for a man.”

Dean lifted his head up to look at you, his green eyes were sparkling and his lips were smiling. “You think so?”

“Yeah I know so! Sam showed me your old photos when you were in your early 20s. You are aging like fine wine.”

It was true. You and Sam were rummaging through old boxes on a random, rarely free, Sunday when you found old photos of the brothers throughout the years. Dean in his early 20s was an innocent, breathtaking boy with a stunning smile on his face. He would protect you and make sure you were safe, whilst Dean in his early 30s would kill for you and make sure you were far from danger. Dean in his early 30s was tired and wise, body and soul filled with scars, but beauty intact.

Dean’s smile became a smirk. He nodded, accepting the compliment before he kissed you again. His hands went under your shirt, his fingers tracing all over your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body. In response you started to slowly move your hips and grind against him, feeling how hard he already was. It then hit you. You didn’t tell him.

“Dean?” You said breaking the kiss…again.

“Huh?”

“I have a thing I forgot to tell you.” You started. You felt nervous even though you didn’t know why. It wasn’t a big deal and you knew that, The only question was how to properly articulate it.

“Spill it!” He looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes, excited about what you would say next. Who knew he was like a puppy when he liked someone.

“You’re going to be my first.” You finally spilled it after a few seconds of silence.

He tilted his head slightly. “You mean your first DILF?”

You sighed and gave him a bitch face. Too much time with Sam was rubbing off on you. “You’re not a father as far as I know, Dean! No, like the first guy I’m gonna sleep with!”

His lips formed a small O when you told him.

“You mean…?”

“Yeah!”

“Are you sure you want to though?” He then asked, even though he already knew the answer. You trusted him. He trusted you.

“Yeah. Now shut up and kiss me, will ya?”

“Yes ma’am.” He smirked.

This kiss seemed different, needy and filled with lust and adoration. It felt like he was holding everything back until now. It felt like you finally got to taste your favorite wine, so sweet and addictive. You couldn't get enough of it.

You leaned in, urging him to follow you as you fell into the mattress. While you were kissing, you couldn't help but slowly move your hips, grinding against him, feeling how hard he was. It was a brand new feeling. You liked the idea of him getting all hot and bothered because of you. He moaned into the kiss, growing impatient before he took your shirt off, exposing you completely. You thought you were going to be shy and hide your body from him, but something about Dean made you feel comfortable and free.

"You're so beautiful." He said in pure adoration.

"You're making me blush." You said and meant it. His words were meaningful and true. No other person has ever made you believe the things they said. That was why you didn't even bother to go all the way with people you have been seeing. You could read right through them and see their true intentions.

Your hands were roaming freely all over his body. He was all muscles and covered in scars, each one telling a story of his life as a hunter.

He took his time on you, making sure you were comfortable and relaxed for him. His right hand went down to your naked body, feeling every bump and inch of your skin. Your lips parted as you let out a sigh. When he reached the most sensitive spot between your legs his thumb started to rub you in a circular motion while his lips never left your neck. .

“You like that?” He asked between kisses.

The only thing that escaped from your lips was a light: “Aha.”

“Good.”

He took your panties off exposing you completely under him. Soon his boxers followed. When you saw how big he actually was you swallowed nervously wondering how much it would hurt. You knew first times always hurt and it usually sucked, but so far you were enjoying every minute of it. He knew which buttons to push and which places to kiss.

He positioned himself between your legs and slowly entered you. You were holding on to his back, fingers deep in his skin as you gasped in discomfort. It hurt but it wasn’t as bad as you expected.

“Holy shit!” You said under your breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…just….move!”

He nodded and started to move slowly. It still hurt but after every slow thrust, it hurt a little bit less and less, until the pleasure took over the pain almost completely. He was taking it slow while kissing every inch of your skin he could get his lips on. You were breathing into each other while his thrusts became faster and stronger. You could feel yourself getting warmer and something in the lower part of your stomach. You weren’t sure what it was but you liked it.

“You’re hot!” He noticed, feeling your body temperature rise after every thrust.

“I feel weird!” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss on his neck. “I think I’m close!”

It felt like a rollercoaster but instead of going up and down; you only went up until you couldn’t take anymore and just crashed. But the thing was your body temperature kept rising and rising until you reached your breaking point. You were both panting, gasping for air, your hands were leaving light scratches on Dean’s back and yet he didn’t even flinch.

“FUCK!” You moaned, feeling the orgasm pierce through you. Your lips were parted, back slightly arched under Dean, but your eyes changed color – two yellow sparks appeared as you were experiencing your first big O.

“Dean!” His name didn’t leave your lips, just like a cigarette of a smoker.

Dean didn’t stop until you came down from the euphoric high. He watched your eyes go back to your normal color, following your body temperature.

When he stopped moving and collapsed on you, you kissed him on the lips and did what you’ve always wanted to do – you bit his nose.

“Why did you do that?” He smiled in confusion.

“You have a perfect nose and for some reason I’ve always wanted to bite it.” You explained.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He moved next to you, covered in sweat, wondering what he saw a few moments ago.

“(Y/N), did you feel your temperature rise before you came?”

“Yeah. It was weird and yet it felt amazing.”

“Yeah your eyes also changed color.” He added, thinking how perfect your nickname was. Zippie the human lighter.

“Changed color?”

“Yeah they were yellow, like you had sparks in your eyes.”

“Awesome!” You said and kissed his shoulder. “Sam is still going to kill you though!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah!”

That night you slept in separate beds since Sam was sharing the room with you. He came back three hours later and by that time you were both fast asleep.

The next morning during breakfast in the nearby diner, between stuffing your face with eggs and bacon, you decided to be a little bit of a dick.

“Sam, I found out something new about myself.”

Sam took a sip of his black coffee. “Really? What?”

Dean was ignoring the whole conversation, eating his pancakes.

“My body temperature rises and my eyes sparkle whenever I have an orgasm!”

Dean choked on his pancakes, while Sam stayed silent in shock before looking at Dean giving him his iconic bitch face.

“Really, Dean?”

“Zippie, you’re a dick!” He told you.

“Your dick now since you like me that much, handsome!” You winked at him.

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mercurygray · 3 months ago

Text

A few thoughts this evening on writers and prompt culture:

I am trying to get better about leaving prompts for others, because I know that when I am asking for prompts, it is because I am bored, or I am feeling lonely, or because my brain just can't sit still and it needs something to play with.

Giving prompts and receiving prompts, for me, is a way to remind myself that I am part of a community. It is a way for me to reach out, and for other people to reach out to me.

When I give prompts, they are an invitation to write, not an obligation. I treat the prompts I am given in the same way. And I am going to gently suggest to all of my fandom neighbors that anyone who treats the filling of their prompts like it is an obligation and that they are somehow owed the products of your time and your mental energy… probably isn't someone you should be doing writing for.

If taking that time to fill that prompt is not going to bring you joy or is not in line with the person you are now or the writing goals you have for yourself now, release it and let it go. Thank it for the service it has done telling you that someone values your work. It is so kind of that person to ask you for this thing, and you are also being kind to yourself by saying no. You do not value or esteem that person any less because you are choosing not to fill their prompt. If the sight of unfilled prompts in your inbox is causing you stress, this is a permission slip to delete them. If it would make you feel better, you can screenshot the prompts, or record them in a spreadsheet, and perhaps return to them at another time.

#the care and feeding of your friendly writer #had this conversation with a friend and am sharing it with anyone who needs a kind voice saying this

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gloromeien · 2 months ago

Note

Hellooooo I hope your day is good? Have an ask!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Whoo, my first ask! And from the exceptional and lovely @zenaidamacrouras1, whose fic Monoclonius I'm re-reading right now and loving just as much as the first time. An all-time fave, really, with just the best, sexiest, nerdiest Bucky and the sweetest dad Steve. Check it out if you haven't!

But this of course is supposed to be about *my* fics, so let's get started.

Five Favorite Fics That I've Written:

History Repleating (Or the Proper Care and Feeding of One Steven Grant Rogers), Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, kidfic

Summary: Captain America!Steve receives a letter from Dr. J.B. Barnes, Brooklyn Historical Society. Except not quite that J.B. Barnes. This leads to Steve and Bucky having a meet cute via Bucky's work as a history teacher. Smut, fluff, and a smidge of angst ensue.

Comments: This one is, IMHO, the best fic I've ever written. Which is not to say it's good, exactly--your mileage may vary--but I don't think I'm ever going to get to this place again. It was winter 2022. We were all just re-emerging from lockdown. I was in the process of caring for my sweet little corgi girl at the end of her life, and I just needed some joy, you know? Something fun to look forward to. I feel like I channeled a lot of those emotions, that grief, into the Steve in this fic. Though it's not a sad fic by any means! It's full of bad jokes and sarcasm and sweetness and found family and people just caring for each other beyond reason. Bucky here is a bright light that comes into Steve's life at just the right moment, that allows him to believe that he could have a real future with someone to love. I really needed to hear that right about then, and so, as Alexander Hamilton sings, I wrote my way out. For that reason and many more, this will always have a special place in my heart.

Last Exit to Brooklyn, Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, SoulMark

Summary: When Steve Rogers emerged from the ice, he wound up not only in a whole new century, but also with a brand-new soul mark. Knowing that the person he was destined to be with might be just around the corner made it easier for him to settle into a future where happily ever after was a sure thing. Until the Romanian drummer of a 'popular in Europe' heavy metal band, and freight car of personal baggage, come crashing into his life...

Comments: This fic is a confluence of so many things I really, really, really love. Soul mark AUs, for one. I looooooooove those. But I only wanted to write one if I felt like I could bring something new to the table. Once I hit on this particular idea, I knew I had to write it. Also, Tommy Lee!Seb kept me up nights, friends. I loved his look in that so much. As a teen, I had a whole hair metal phase. And it was a fun way to pay a little tribute to Seb's Romanian heritage, so... anyway. I particularly adore some of my Romanian OCs in this--two of them being not so veiled versions of Nadja and Laszlo in What We Do in the Shadows, LOL. Feeling kind of weird about tooting my own horn here, being Canadian and all (Sorry. Sorry. Sorry?) But anyway, they were all really fun to write, even if I think the fic ended up being a little too long and more angsty than I expected. A good thing? A bad thing? You can decide for yourself. ;)

Cut Him Out in Little Stars, Medieval AU, kidfic, arranged marriage

Summary:

Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Three years after a brutal, bloody war that saw their formerly friendly queendoms at odds for the first time in history, Prince Steven Rogers of House Grant seeks to solidify the peace between Lehigh and Venora through an alliance--marriage with Prince James Barnes of House Buchanan, his childhood friend turned unexpected enemy. But after years as the Fist of Hydra and a long recovery from brainwashing and torture, Bucky isn't in a place to marry anyone, let alone someone he doesn't even remember. Stubborn to the core, afflicted by tragic losses, and still half in love with someone who might only be a memory, Steve and his family journey to Lynbrooke, the capital of Venora, to attempt to end the tension between their queendoms, and perhaps heal his wounded heart.

Comments: My least-viewed fic by a wide margin, but one that I really love. Playing with the big tropes can be so much fun, and arranged marriage is one of the biggest and messiest. I also rewatched Seb in Kings right before writing this, and it started as a crossover between the world of that series and the idea of arranged marriage. But eventually it took its own path. I have a total soft spot for the Bucky in this one. Probably the most broken I've ever written him. I shy away from Winter Soldier recovery fics--love reading them, will never write one myself--and this is the closest I'll probably get to that. One of the reasons it's close to my heart is because I feel like they really earn their happy ending in this one.

A Slaying in Scarlet, a LOTR Mystery

Summary: On the eve of Aragorn’s coronation, Legolas and Elrohir are charged with investigating a brutal murder at the Citadel.

Comments: My AO3 account is split into two eras. From about 2002-2010-ish, I was heavily involved in the LOTR fandom, specifically writing Legolas/Elrohir, but also a few other pairings, including some OOC pairings along the way. After that, I went off to be a romance writer for a little while (and yes, I'm going to shamelessly plug my Stoker & Bash mystery romance series, because I'm fucking proud of them.) Then watching FatWS knocked me for six, and here we are, all Stucky, all the time. All this to say that my early LOTR work, I am certain, is not good. I have not re-read anything in ages, nor will I ever, most likely. But it was in writing those fics that I found a bit of my voice, and they gave me courage as a writer, and so I couldn't leave them off this list completely. This one is a Sherlock Holmes type deal, because I am also obsessed with mysteries. Hopefully it stands up a little bit. Buyer beware.

A Place to Rest and Remember Yourself (In My Arms), Shrunkyclunks

Summary: It's 2015, and Steve is living in a post-publicly coming out world. His every move is scrutinized in the tabloids and on social media, he's still wrestling with life in the 21st century, and the paparazzi never give him any peace. Making friends who aren't co-workers is practically impossible, let along dating. His solution? Have a regular, no-strings 'arrangement' with one of Natasha's honeypots. Bucky is a former spy and adventurer who used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but left for *reasons*. Having just gotten his heart ripped to shreds by a traitorous ex, he finds the idea of a discreet, 'with benefits' arrangement with his teenage-years crush very, very appealing. But you know what they say about what happens the minute you stop looking for love...

Comments: I wanted to write something quick and fun and smutty as hell for Stucky Week 2023. Instead... *sighs* You'll note that this ended up being 18 freaking chapters long. Why am I like this? I wish I knew.

One of my fic-writing missions is to give Steve Rogers the ending he deserves. The MCU did not treat him or his PTSD right--this is well-established in both fandom and a ton of metas more insightful than anything I could ever write on the subject. But where I feel like I maybe can address this a little is in fic. My aim here was to just spoil Steve rotten. To give him the literal world back, in the form of a Bucky who has serious wanderlust. It was also so much fun to play with Doctor Strange and the whole Sanctum Sanctorum stuff, Layla and Marc, Darcy of course, Nat and Sam. The 'love shield' Steve throws up in front of the press was inspired by Harry Windsor's PR move from many moons ago. My favorite part, about this fic, about writing fics in general, is when love just kind of happens to two people who aren't really paying attention, and suddenly it's everything, and they have to conform their lives to this new gorgeous reality. Anyway that's what I'm going for in every fic I write.

This was more talking about myself than any Canadian should do in a month, let alone a day. I need to go lie down. I don't love tagging other authors in these things, but if @burberrycanary, @bluesimplicity73, @musette22, @leveragehunters, or @dontcallmebree haven't done this yet and feel like it, I would love to read your thoughts on your incredible fics. And you, readers, please don't miss any of their tremendous work. Take it from me, their amazing stories (and Zenaida's) keep many a monster at bay when the night is dark and full of terrors. Big love to everyone out there sharing their creative endeavors with the world! <3

#stucky #steve x bucky #ao3 #shrunkyclunks #bucky barnes #steve rogers #ao3 fanfic #stevebucky #captain america #modern bucky barnes #five favorite fics #self recs

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