#then like two words into my answer she was super obviously checked out of the conversation

[gamer-comix]

my new favorite kind of amazon review is people who bought manga but don't know what manga is

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS INCOMING…

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?�� he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

[kaleidohscopic]

SWEET — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: it's one thing to run into the guy you maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for at your mutual friends' birthday party. it's another thing to find out he maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for you too. GENRE: friends (ish) to lovers! au, romance, a hint of smut, some pining if you squint WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, jenkai (humour me), wayyyy too much sexual tension, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end but nothing super explicit (bc idk how to write that stuff sorry!), general mature content and themes WORD COUNT: 4.4k NOTE: super self-indulgent w barely any plot or characterisation (basically four thousand something words of foreplay lol), i saw that video of baek at one of the lonsdaleite stops unbuttoning his shirt and it drove me a little loopy ngl...

The last time you had seen Byun Baekhyun was two years ago.

Graduation. Gowns. Bouquets. There was probably a photo of the two of you, along with the rest of your cohort, sitting around somewhere in the depths of your camera roll, fresh-faced and eager to take on the exciting new world outside of 3000-word essays and 9 am tutorials. Four years taking variations of the same courses and bitching about the same tutors meant you were far from strangers, but sadly, the friendship had dwindled once you’d left the classrooms for good — something you had been just a little gutted about. These days, his appearances in your life were rare, save for the times he’d come up in conversation with the friends you both shared back in the day, or his sporadic likes on your instagram posts.

Except now, of course, as you watched him climb up the stairs to the rooftop bar, gift bag in one hand and suit jacket in the other.

“Happy birthday!” he beamed, enveloping your best friend in a hug. The fabric of his shirt strained against the movement of his arms, and you caught a whiff of his delicious woody cologne as he approached. 

You had known there’d be a possibility he’d show up today. This year, Jennie had made the enlightened decision to throw a joint celebration with her boyfriend, and obviously that entailed inviting all of his friends — which honestly, wasn’t even that many extra heads since Jongin only ever spoke to the same eight people. You’d seen Baekhyun’s name on the guest list that you had helped her put together, and seen it again listed under the ‘going’ tab of the event, but having the real deal in front of you was another experience entirely.

Crisp white button down with the sleeves rolled up, fitted slacks, and just a glimpse of his toned chest peeking out from where the top few of his shirt buttons were undone.

He looked fucking good. 

Even better than he did two years ago.

Jennie squeezed him back with just as much fervour. “So glad you could make it! Jongin’s been stuck to my side all night with no one to talk to, he’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

He pulled back with a chuckle, and it was then that he finally laid eyes on you, seated next to the birthday girl, holding matching martinis, and doing your best not to look like you had been shamelessly checking him out for the entire 45 seconds since he had arrived. His eyes widened slightly with recognition as your name left his mouth.

“You haven’t forgotten each other, right?” Jennie laughed. The descent of his eyes down the length of you was quick, but not careless, and heat flared in your body all the same. When his gaze returned back to your face, the beginnings of an appreciative smile were shaping the curve of his mouth.

“Not yet, I hope,” he answered her, but his eyes were still on you. “Nice seeing you again. You look good.”

“So do you, Baekhyun,” you replied, because it was the truth. His smile only grew. 

Jennie tipped back the rest of her martini and bade the both of you a hasty farewell, saying something about fixing up the photo zone as she hurried towards the other end of the rooftop. A few of the girls, too excited about the open bar, had knocked the cushions onto the ground, and were doing a poor job of rearranging them back on the wooden swing.

He slid into her now-vacant seat, elbows resting on the bar counter, giving you an excellent view of the shape of his forearms and the veins that adorned it. 

“You’re not going to have that?” he asked, nodding at the sad little olive that sat all alone at the bottom of your empty glass. 

“Not a fan of the saltiness,” you answered, and offered it to him. You watched as he plucked the garnish stick out of your fingers and put the olive in his mouth with no hesitation, eyes lingering a little too long on the movement of his throat as he swallowed it. “I like sweet things better.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he chuckled. “You used to only ever drink vodka cranberries.”

Suddenly, you were twenty-one again, peering through the cafe window and getting a little too giddy at the thought of meeting up outside of the stuffy tutorial classroom to work on the project you had both been assigned to. You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that a crush on Baekhyun was something you never entertained throughout your four years of university together. And maybe it had been reciprocated, for the briefest of times, just after that joint presentation on data structures, where the thought of stepping over from friendly more-than-acquaintances into something more had crossed your mind enough times for you to lose count. There had been something there, or at the very least a hint of something, in the nights spent crammed into a tiny library booth meant only for one person, poring over stale and tedious papers on algorithm organisations in each other’s company.

But nothing had happened. He hadn’t made a move, and neither had you, laden with the fear of rejection that was so indicative of youth. And maybe that had been a huge misplay on your part, because a few weeks after wrapping up the project that had brought you together, he was at your faculty’s monthly pub crawl, introducing you to his new girlfriend, who had actually asked him out just the day before. 

Safe to say that had been the end of that. You were not the type to homewreck.

“How long has it been? I feel like I haven’t seen you since — god, it must have been graduation?” 

“Something like that,” you replied through a smile. “I still have the photos on my phone.”

“So do I,” he said, flashing you a boyish grin. Then, as if doubting the accuracy of his own words, he promptly pulled out his phone and began scrolling towards the top, brows furrowed with determination. It was a few seconds later that he found what he was looking for, turning the screen towards you with a triumphant noise. 

The picture had been taken outside the ceremony hall, set against the familiar sea of graduation gowns, but that was the only familiar thing about it. In the foreground stood just you and Baekhyun, not stiffly posing for the camera as you had been in all of the group shots that existed on your phone, but turned towards each other, faces bursting with elated smiles. Neither of you looked to be aware that there was even a camera on you. The you in the photo had your mouth half open in the tell-tale way it always did when you were about to laugh at the ridiculously corny jokes he loved to crack. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, partially from the glare of the sun overhead — the weather had been phenomenal for the usual gloominess of May — and partially in delight at your reaction, having cracked said joke. 

“I’ve never seen this one before. Did you forget to Airdrop this to me on the day?” you asked, a joking accusation colouring your voice. 

“My mum only sent it to me a whole month later. I didn’t even know she had taken these,” he said, zooming in to better see the expressions on your upturned faces. “We look so happy here,” he added, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

“And young,” you agreed, but not without a sigh. The you of two years ago had yet to know the pains of having seven different bills to pay every month, and watching the money trickle out of your bank account like water from a leaking tap.

He gave you a gentle, teasing nudge with his elbow. “We’re not that old now. We could definitely still pass as twenty somethings.”

“That’s probably because we are still actually twenty somethings,” you countered with a laugh. 

There was an unprecedented ease with which you fell into conversation with Baekhyun. Despite the considerable gap of silence between now and the last time you had seen him, there was nothing in his demeanour or your own that indicated just how much time had passed. It was rather comforting to see a face from your university days, and even better that that face was still as gorgeous as ever.

You watched as he flicked through a few more photos from the day, mostly of him and his friends from university — one of whom was the other main event of tonight — until he landed on a picture of him with his girlfriend. You recognised the photo, seeing as you had been the one who offered to take it. He had an arm around her waist while she carried a huge bouquet with a teddy bear sitting atop the arrangement.

“Didn’t I help you order that thing?” you asked, pointing to the flowers in her hand. He hummed in agreement, but didn’t say much else, scrolling through to the next photos with his parents, which had also been taken by you. They stood on either side of him, beaming with pride, and then there were a few after that with his girlfriend as well, the four of them all standing together and looking picture-perfect. 

Perhaps the you of today would have chosen differently, found the balls to ask him out first — because what was the use in sitting and waiting around for the guy to make the first move? — and maybe you’d be the one in the photo instead, smiling up at the camera, an integral part of the family portrait. Maybe he’d be running his fingers across the inner curve of your wrist, instead of along the rim of the gin and tonic he had just ordered.

“She couldn’t make it today? Or was she not invited?” you asked, having not seen anyone walk in behind him. Although you hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else since he arrived, and if she had been here, you doubted she’d be all too pleased with how close your heads were, even if he was just showing you through his camera roll. With that in mind, you drew back slightly, just enough to catch the expression on his face twisted with an odd sort of surprise.

After a second or so, it melted into an easy-going grin.

“We broke up a while ago. A month or two after graduation, actually.”

Oh.

You and your big mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know — I shouldn’t have —”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” he reassured, waving off your clumsy apologies. “Things just didn’t work out and we weren’t right for each other. It was a pretty amicable break, all things considered. But now, I get to sleep however I want in my own bed, so I really can’t complain,” he added, fishing another laugh out of you.

“Nothing beats starfishing in your sleep after a long day,” you hummed in agreement. Wednesday nights in your bedroom after a full day of client meetings could attest to that.  

Baekhyun took a slow sip, pulling the drink into his mouth with a contemplative carefulness, and weighed up his words before he spoke again. 

“What about you? Still with Jinyoung?” he asked, tone light and regarding you with curious eyes. Without meaning to, you let out a groan, and his left eyebrow quirked with interest. 

“Don’t even go there,” you half-grimaced, reminded of the fling you had towards the end of fourth year with the business major. He was pretty, and had been nice enough, but by the fifth time he blew off spending time with you so that he could track the world stock indexes, it had become pretty clear that the two of you were on different paths in life. The sex was okay, but it had not been enough to warrant any more than a few late night rendezvous. For all you knew, he was probably now a very successful investment banker with 90 hour work weeks and making a shit-load of money you could only dream about having. 

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the counter. “Let’s just say, he was more interested in looking at his dividend yields than he was in me.”

Baekhyun’s gaze flickered over the rest of you again, taking in the ridges of your collarbone and the soft curve of your waist, the touch of his eyes hovering above your skin like a tangible thing. You tried your best to look unaffected, forcing yourself to remain still under the weight of his stare despite the way it was melting you down to your bones.

“He definitely did not have his priorities in order,” he said, once his eyes ended their journey and returned back to your face. “You’re much nicer to look at.”

His words settled beneath your skin, pulling a sweet warmth to your cheeks that slowly radiated through the rest of your body. You watched as his mouth curved around the rim of his glass again, and followed the path of the drink down the length of his throat. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

He rewarded you with a sly smile. 

“Then maybe you don’t know any better.”

Christ. Those were definitely bedroom eyes.

Your lips parted again, though you had little idea as to the words which were preparing to come out of them. Forming coherent and decent thoughts proved to be a great struggle when he looked like he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and you swore you could have crumpled right then and there if it hadn’t been for the bar stool underneath you. 

“Baekhyun, you’re finally here,” said a giggly Jongin, suddenly appearing between the two of you with Jennie in tow.

The tension from seconds earlier dissipated as quickly as it had formed. 

Someone (the birthday boy) had evidently made good use of the open bar to shed the self-imposed shell that came with introversion before the arrival of his friend. “I’m so, so happy to see you. We need to do some shots right now,” he said, now all serious, leaning over to peer at the drinks menu that he himself had signed off on. 

Baekhyun was the first to break eye contact, turning to flash Jongin a fond smile. “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, before downing the rest of his gin and tonic. 

The birthday girl requested tequila shots, and the bartender was quick to supply, lining up four glasses and filling them with the clear alcohol that was a recurring character in all your worst hangover episodes. You passed them around, but not before turning back around to the bar for one more thing. 

“And a vodka cranberry, please,” you added, catching the amused smile Baekhyun threw your way. 

“For old time’s sake.”

It was approaching the early hours of the morning when the remainder of the party retired to the hotel suite Jennie had booked for the night. One of her chill, moody, late-night R&B playlists had been queued up and was playing softly on the speaker system in the living room — she had a playlist for every conceivable mood and situation — and you could just make out the melody of a Daniel Caesar song, quiet and soothing against the nighttime.

“Okay, you win,” Baekhyun conceded with amusement, sitting up to grab the soju bottle from your outstretched hand. “I’ve never had someone throw up on me, at least not on the first date.” He settled back against the pillows, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a small, slow sip. 

“Thanks, but it’s a victory I’d rather not have. There’s no pride in knowing I’m the only person I know to have a guy spew all over my shoes within ten minutes of meeting me,” you said, leaning back and letting your hands sink into the plush comforter. 

Some thirty or so minutes ago, you had found yourself in one of the smaller rooms of the suite, sitting across from Baekhyun with nothing but a few inches of egyptian cotton separating you. All night, you had felt his presence, whether it was the light brush of his warm fingers across the bare skin of your shoulder to grab your attention, or the weight of his stare from across the rooftop bar while you posed for pictures with Jennie and the rest of the girls. He had infiltrated your senses, occupying his own little space in the corner of your consciousness. Right now, having the whole of him so unobstructed before you, being the sole focus of his attention within the four walls of this small room — it was obvious that the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bringing a heady warmth to your face.

He levelled you with a careful look, and instead of handing the bottle back to you as he had done for the last thirty minutes, he set it onto the nightstand beside the bed with a soft clink. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“I think you should probably slow down,” he said, catching the curious tilt of your head. “Wouldn’t want you to do something you regret.”

You let a coy smile turn the corners of your mouth upward, shifting your weight off your hands and leaning towards him ever so slightly. “Trust me, I know my limits,” you said, and moved to grab the bottle. 

The hand you placed on the top of his thigh to steady yourself as you reached over him was deliberate, and you failed to hide the deepening of your smile when you felt the muscles flex beneath your fingers. You also didn’t miss the dip of his eyes below the neckline of your dress as you hovered over him, only pulling back once the cool glass of the bottleneck was firmly in your grasp. The glimmer in his eyes, previously light and boyish, had darkened imperceptibly.

You were playing a dangerous game, and you both knew it.

Beyond the door, Jennie’s playlist had changed to something a little more sultry, Kehlani’s honeyed voice now floating among the sounds of the city from below. His gaze remained on you as you raised the bottle to your lips, tilting it back and letting the tartness of the grape soju fill your mouth. 

The song wasn’t the only thing that had changed. There was a palpable shift in the room, a simmering heat gradually seeping into the atmosphere, brought on by your brazen touch. Still, he kept a safe distance, giving you the reins and the freedom to dispel the tension you had created. 

Which you had absolutely no intention to. 

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, relishing in the way his eyes immediately left yours to track the movement. “You know,” you began, turning the bottle over in your hands, “I used to have a bit of a thing for you.”

His eyebrows raised with interest, but there was also a hint of surprise layered beneath.

“Third year, that data algorithms project. I thought a lot about asking you out, actually,” you continued, watching as his face slowly took on a smile at your words. A soft laugh escaped those pretty lips, as if he was enjoying some private joke that you weren’t in on. Without meaning to, you leaned in, drawn to the sound, wanting to understand the amusement behind it. 

“You wanna know something?” he asked, to which you weren’t sure if you had actually nodded, or if you had only imagined that you did, too preoccupied by the inviting curve of his mouth.

He was all too willing to comply with the unspoken request behind your curious eyes, moving forward at a languid pace, until his lips hovered just over the shell of your ear, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the fluttering pull of air with each of his inhales and exhales. You could smell him too, his cologne now infused with the scent of his skin over the course of the evening, smooth and sweet, and much too dizzying. 

His cheek brushed yours for a fraction of a second before you registered the conspiratorial whisper in your ear.

“So did I.”

You hadn’t even realised your own eyes had closed until they were fluttering open with his departure from your space. He pulled back, eyes gleaming with a furtive satisfaction like he had just let you in on some big, juicy, forbidden secret. It took a while for your chest to start pulling oxygen back into your lungs again. How he could render you so breathless when he had barely even touched you — you would’ve been embarrassed if not for the foggy warmth circling your head and radiating throughout the rest of your body, leaving you oblivious to everything but the sheer force of how much you wanted him.

He reached for the bottle, now almost empty, and you fought the flinch when you felt his fingers close around your hand. This time, you didn’t complain when he removed it from your grasp and set it back on the nightstand. The warmth of his hand did not leave yours, flipping it over to trail his fingers lightly across your knuckles. 

“These are pretty,” he murmured, thumbing at the rings decorating your fingers. You could only manage a noncommittal hum in response. His touch had stolen your voice right out of your chest, along with all the rationality usually contained inside your mind, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of your own blood thrumming in your veins, hot and fast beneath your skin. 

All night, you had danced around each other, stealing furtive glances and exchanging flirty smiles, carefully toeing around the edge of politeness and propriety. And maybe Baekhyun was just too polite, too respectful, letting you take the wheel and steer tonight in whichever direction you wanted, despite the want that was so clearly etched on his face. 

Surely, your face was a mirror of his own. Surely, he could tell.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, unfurling your fingers to lace his own through them. The press of his warm skin against yours had you light-headed and almost delirious, but you forced your gaze to stay steady on him while you tried to find your voice again.

“I’m thinking,” you began, low and breathy, “about how you’ve been eye-fucking me this whole night.” 

His sharp inhale was unmistakable above the quiet of the room. A meteor could have landed right outside the building and you wouldn’t even have noticed, held captive by his dangerous touch and the hunger flaring in his eyes. 

“And,” you continued, “how I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it ever since you shut that door.”

The second after the words left your mouth seemed to stretch across an eternity. You watched as he registered them, transfixed by how his whole body seemed to cloud over with desire, pushing out any remaining trace of restraint.

One moment you were sitting on the bed, revelling in the delicious tension you had created, and the next he had pulled you flush against him. His mouth was on yours, hot and needy, the self-control he had been so meticulously keeping to for the entire night disappearing the instant he felt your lips move against his own. You were no better, hands leaving his to fist desperately at the fabric of his shirt. An airy moan left your throat when his tongue brushed against yours, letting you taste the sweetness you had been imagining ever since you laid eyes on him on the rooftop. He swallowed the sound, the plump flesh of his bottom lip tightening into a pleased smile at your reaction.

Baekhyun pulled away first, lips leaving yours to trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck, where you felt the light graze of his teeth over the skin, and then the wetness of his tongue following the same path. His hands had snaked around you, fingers digging into the curve of your waist, keeping you in place while he nipped at you, drawing stilted gasps out of your parted mouth. When he pulled the flesh into the warmth of his mouth and sucked it to a nice, dark bruise, the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach flared, violent and hungry. 

You were going to lose your mind.

“You know, you could just try again,” you managed to get out between heaving breaths. “Ask me out.”

“Would you say yes?” he asked, and you felt his lips shape the words against your skin. They dragged back up the column of your throat, capturing your mouth again with another heated kiss that had your head spinning. He shifted, and your knees came to rest on either side of his leg, the firm muscles of his thigh pressing against the part of you that ached for his touch. In the haze of this moment, you didn’t know much, but you knew you would’ve said yes to absolutely anything to come out of that sweet, tempting mouth. 

Still, you played along, letting a devious smile pull the corners of your mouth upwards. “That depends on how tonight goes.”

He drew back slightly, fixing you with a wicked look that held promises he was nothing short of determined to fulfil. You could see yourself reflected in the darkness of his blown-out pupils, flushed and already wrecked just from the attention of his mouth. Anticipation and thrill jolted through you like lightning, zipping through every cell in your body as your mind drifted to what he might have in store behind those enticing eyes. 

You weren’t left wondering for long. His hands left your waist and moved to your calf, pushing up the silken fabric of your dress as they slowly crept upwards, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The brush of his fingers against your inner thigh drew another shuddering breath out of you. 

His next words were not unlike an oath.

“Then I’d better make tonight fucking spectacular.”

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: thursday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.4k

summary: you and carmy finally find some time to catch up and carmy begins to realize that you're more similar than he thinks.

a/n: thank you to all who are reading, reblogging, and commenting omg. i'm so grateful that someone wanted to read this story. i wrote it in a week because i couldn't get these two out of my head. they were begging to be put on the page. i also have a companion playlist that i'll release when the story is done because i don't want to spoil anything! comment below if you'd like to be added to this story's taglist. i did presumptuously add a few of you i've interacted with, so please let me know if you'd also like to be taken off of it.

read: part two | masterlist

Thursday

You’re grateful that by day three, you’d been able to smooth over some of the tension between you and Carmy. You even looked forward to catching up with him, if the two of you can swing it. Instead of going home early, you had jumped on the line this evening. Ebra was out for the night and Marcus had asked to fly solo on prep so that you could give him some feedback before lunch service tomorrow morning. 

It was an easy decision, to fill in and jump on the line. After all, you had checked your bag on the plane so that you could bring your knife roll with you, just in case. There was something about this kitchen – the energy and the people – that you wanted to stick around for. And it didn’t hurt that you got to spend a little extra time with Carmy. When he was in his element, expediting and leading this kitchen… he was… breathtaking. 

“Damn, nice knife, Jeff” Tina comments, checking out the santoku you’re running through some parsley. She can hear the crisp, clean cuts you're making, which is what caught her attention in the first place.

“Jeff?” you question, shooting her a look. 

“Long story, but trust me. It’s a term of endearment,” Sydney interjects, from her side of the prep station. 

You chuckle, “She’s a beauty alright. My first fully Japanese knife. Though the steel is a bitch to take care of. That’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Tina questions further. 

“Well, it’s just a kind of metal alloy that’s super prone to-,” you start, completing your sentence at the same time as Sydney chimes in.

“Rusting,” you both say in unison, sharing a look. 

“Huh,” Tina sounds, suddenly losing interest. “I don’t get it. It’s more work to take care of? Our shit’s part-plastic and does the job just fine.”

“Oh but she’s so smooth,” you playfully swoon, referring to how beautifully the knife performs for you. 

“It’s all about the performance, T,” Sydney adds. 

Tina hums in response, still unconvinced by you and Sydney’s admiration for the fancy tools. 

“So you and Carmy. How’d you meet Jeff?” Tina inquires further geturing her knife towards Carmy’s expediting station, and eliciting another laugh from you and Sydney.

“Uhhhh… we both worked at the same restaurant in New York. I came in to stage and the competitive jerk tried to smoke me. Thought he could show me it was his territory.”

“Like a little bitch,” Tina teases, the shade evident in her voice.

“And you kicked his ass obviously,” Sydney suggests, hopefully. 

“Mhm,” Tina adds in agreement.

“Oh absolutely,” you answer, deviously. “I walked out with a job that night. Carmy and I are the classic kitchen staff case of… enemies turned good friends.” 

You look up from your station, noticing an exchanged look between Sydney and Tina. 

It’s the kind of look that says, Just friends, huh?

“Alright, alright. Enough with the girl talk, gossip girls. News flash: no one gives a shit about fuckin’ Tom Colicchio and Padma Whatserface over here,” Richie interrupts, referring to the you and Carmy, as he passes by with a few empty storage containers on the way to the dishwashing station. 

“Asshole / Fuck off, Richie,” Sydney and Tina shout back at the same time. 

“Hey! Listen up, everyone! Fire two spaghettis, two short ribs, one chicken,” Carmy calls out to the kitchen. You listen attentively, hearing the chorus of the entire kitchen repeat the order back to him, punctuating the order with a ‘heard.’ 

You smile to yourself, as you enjoy the feeling of falling into such a familiar rhythm. 

You’ve missed working in the kitchen, and you’ve missed working in the kitchen with Carmy. This was so different than any of the bullshit you’ve been through together – even when he is arguing or yelling at someone. It’s not some sterile environment that looks more like a science lab or an operation room than it does a kitchen.

No, this place has soul. 

Between the crass kitchen banter, the less than flattering nicknames, and its wild cast of characters, it’s only day three and you feel right at home. Dinner service flies by and you’re eager to check in with Marcus by the end of the shift. Before taking your apron off, you head over to his corner of the kitchen. 

“Hey, how’s everything going, chef?” you ask, curiously. 

“Good, chef,” he answers proudly. “I got the brioche covered and ready to rise overnight and I prepped the cake donuts so we’re ready to roll tomorrow morning. I went with a blueberry cake donut this time around.” 

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try it, chef,” you reply. “Need anything from me before I head out for the night?”

“Oh no, uh, I’m almost done here,” Marcus answers, inspiring confidence in his ability. “Just workin’ on a curd for the filling, chef. Just like you taught me.”

“Alright,” you chuckle, tickled by how excited he is. “Have a good night, chef.” You pause, wondering if your words will be totally lost on him. “And make sure you get some rest tonight, okay?” 

He responds with a nod, as you leave his station.

You make your way to the locker area, hanging your apron up, and slipping off your kitchen sneakers, before taking a seat on the bench. It looks like most of the kitchen staff got a head start on you and have already left, or are out of their kitchen clothes and ready to head home. There’s a strange feeling in your heart. You haven’t felt this kind of… community… in a professional kitchen in a long time and you try your best to name what it is you’ve felt was missing. 

“Hey,” you hear a voice say, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Hey,” you say to Carmy. 

He removes his apron, folding it over his forearm. It sits further down his arm, right near his tattooed hand, you notice, as he leans his side against the lockers. 

“Thanks for jumpin’ in… you know… on the line tonight,” he starts his gaze practically piercing through your soul. 

“Yeah, it’s uh, no problem,” you reply, placing your knife roll and kitchen shoes back into your locker. “I had fun.”

“You uh, you still want to go for that drink?” he asks, shyly. 

You smile. 

“Yeah.”

*

“It’s fucked up,” Carmy shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Oh please. What?” you groan, shooting him a look.

“You’ve been in my city for… what three days now and you already have a hookup at one of the hardest to get into bars here,” Carmy replies, eliciting a laugh from you. 

“Oh my god,” you sigh with a playful eye roll. “I’m a New Yorker, asshole. You know that’s how we do it.” 

He shakes his head again, before locking eyes with you, “You were always better at it than me.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you, Carmen Berzatto, finally admitting that I’m better at something than you? Can you say it again, and I’m just going to-.” you tease, playfully, pulling out your phone as if you’re going to film him saying it. 

“Oh shut up…” he shoots back, gently pushing your phone away from his face. 

“I mean, you could always make friends with anyone. The bodega guy downstairs. The fuckin’ bodega cat. Our favorite butcher? ‘S why we always got the good cuts of meat when we cooked together on our days off.” 

“Which is exactly why I do it,” you point out. 

You had always been so magnetic to him. It’s something that he’s always admired about you – something that always reminded him of Mikey. 

“No, I-, I used to be a regular at this bar when I was working at Gramercy Tavern – actually, I think it closed right before you came to New York. Anyways, found out my favorite bartender moved to Chicago and I sent him a message letting him know I’d be in town. Said he’d get us in even if they were booked up, and,” you gesture towards where the two of you are sitting together, “Et voila!” 

Carmy takes a look around. He hasn’t been in a fine dining establishment since he left New York. It’s as if all the fancy awards and all the dues he’s paid cooking in the best restaurants in the entire world don’t matter anymore. He feels so out of place: the people, the over-the-top cocktails, the overpriced bowls of food called something fancy to justify the high price point. 

“From the kitchen” your bartender had said curtly, a mere few minutes ago. He had placed a few plates in front of the two of you to share that you most certainly didn’t order.

You both had thanked the bartender, before digging into the large bowl of soup, stracciatella, and focaccia bread on the plate. You rip off pieces of bread, dipping them into the salty broth, popping them into your mouth. Carmy’s much more of a gentleman about it, using his spoon to try the soup first. You had only planned on drinking here, but your friend at The Aviary had really come through. You’re sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re here with Carmy, and that these guys definitely know who Carmy is. 

“So…” you start, taking a sip of whatever fizzy strawberry gin thing you’d ordered earlier. “I feel like there are a lot of long stories I’d like to hear.” 

Carmy makes a sound in agreement before taking a sip of his drink. It’s just bourbon on the rocks, and you wonder when he started drinking bourbon like this.

“I mean… we could start here. How the hell are ya?” you ask. 

“I…” he starts, before trailing off. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his fingertips across his forehead. “It’s uh, it’s been a long couple of months. Christ. The restaurant was a goddamn mess, everyone hated my fuckin’ guts. And then Syd showed up and, well, she’s been a big help.” 

You wait a beat before saying, “As much as I want to hear about the restaurant, Carm, I mean how are you doing?”

Your words stop him, and he looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. He takes his time thinking about it, shrugging before muttering something along the lines of, “I’m okay, I guess.”

He’s searching for the right words to explain how the hell he’s even supposed to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Guess I thought if I fixed the restaurant, if I could fix it-. Maybe I could fix him,” he drags out. 

He waits a few beats before finally admitting:

“I miss him. Mikey. And I found out all kinds of shit about him that I-, well, shit I didn’t know. I think-, I think it’s why he kept me away. Why he shut me out.”

You listen as he begins to fill you in: about Mikey, the drugs, the debt he inherited that he now owes to Cicero, how hard it was to win over the kitchen staff that, come hell or high water, weren’t interested in changing their ways. And then he tells you about the meetings he's been going to -- the al-anon meetings. And you begin to understand. While he’s the same old Carmy, this isn’t the exact same Carmy that you knew in New York. The Carmy you knew in New York never would’ve gone to those meetings. He would’ve brushed it off and pretended there wasn’t a problem and taken as much punishment as he could in the kitchen instead of dealing with what he was feeling.

Mikey’s death, and coming home, and this restaurant, it’s all changed him. 

And maybe, just maybe, it’s part of the reason why, after months of no contact, he reached out to you now, but he’s not sure if he should tell you that yet.

You’ve got to give it to him. If anything, he’s exceptionally talented at cutting people out of his life. It’s his M.O – the only thing that’s been consistent in his life – even when those people didn’t deserve it. It’s what he knows to do. It’s something he’s learned… from Mikey, from his dad… 

But this… what he’s telling you, these are stories of connection and community. 

“And Syd’s really helped me pull this shit together. She's kinda like... the glue, y'know? I- I don’t know where we’d be without her,” Carmy concludes.

You agree. Syd is brilliant. You can see just from having been in that kitchen that she’s been the biggest catalyst for the changes — even his.

“I know you only asked me to come for pastry but I’m glad you let me jump in on the line tonight,” you say. “It’s cool to see what you’re doing now and… I don’t know. I know it was a rocky start, but you’ve got something here. Something that could be really, really good, Carm. You’re making real fucking food. Like your mom’s chicken. I haven’t forgotten about that.” 

“How can you remember that?” Carmy asks, a little surprised, his eyes lighting up. He’d almost forgotten that he’d once made it for you while you were both still in New York.

You nod, “Best chicken piccata I’ve had in my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hands down.”

“You know,” you start, a mischievous tone in your voice. “If I recall correctly, you made me some pretty bomb meals back in New York. And didn’t I say something along the lines of you really shining when-?”

“Oh no,” he groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying!” you justify, innocently. “When you cook the food you grew up with, Carm, you’re at your very best. And don’t get me wrong. You’re an exceptional chef, regardless of what you do but-.”

“So what? You’re gonna say ‘I told you so?’” he questions, shooting you a look. 

You shrug, playfully, “I can’t help it if I’m right all the time,” earning an eye roll from him. 

“Especially when it comes to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, because you do know him. You’ve seen sides of him he’s barely let anyone else see. It feels good and terrifying all at once to be seen this clearly.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little more Mozza than French Laundry, huh?” he shoots back, referencing your difference in preference. While Mozza was more family style, The French Laundry, a restaurant Carmy had worked at once upon a time, was anything but. 

“Yeah. Who knew one day we’d switch places?” you reply, a sadness in your voice. Were you… envious of what Carmy had? Was this what you were looking for?

“So uh, you gonna tell me what the hell happened with the restaurant?” Carmy asked, changing the subject – changing the subject to you. 

You sigh, you raise your drink to your lips, finishing the rest of what’s in the glass in one go. 

“That bad, huh?”

“No!” you’re quick to reply. “Well, yes. But no. But yeah….” 

Carmy flags the bartender down, ordering another round for the two of you. 

You’re not even sure where to begin in regards to the existential crisis of sorts that you’ve been having, so you just tell him what happened. 

“I was juicing blood oranges one day. And-, you know we were going to take the juice and do all that fancy gastronomy shit with it… turn it into like, the same consistency of ‘dew in the early morning’…” you began to explain, quoting what your head pastry chef had said that day.  

“And I’m sitting there thinking… what the hell am I doing? I mean, who eats food like this?! Who wants to eat a drop of blood orange juice that’s been turned into the consistency of dew in the early mornings? Like, why the fuck can’t I just make the best blood orange olive oil cake anyone’s ever had, and that be enough, you know?”

“And. I don’t know. It got me thinking a lot about the kind of food I want to make, and what that would mean, and what does any of this shit even mean? Fast forward to a week later, and I don’t feel like I have a fuckin’ clue about what I want to do with my life and I’m quitting the restaurant.”

You pause, noticing that he’s just been listening attentively this whole time.

“I’m tired, Carm,” you admit. “I mean. I’m burnt the hell out. I just. I don’t want to work this hard for something that- something that I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.”

Another beat. 

“I know it sounds totally insane but-.”

“No! No, it doesn’t,” Carmy interrupts, quick to reassure you, as he reaches for your hand. Your eyes flicker from his hand on yours, the small tattoo above his wrist, then back to him, feeling the loss of body heat as he pulls his hand back only a moment later. 

“I feel like I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot of the same shit,” he admits, empathizing with you. 

“I just feel… kind of lost,” you say, and it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. “I do. I-, I’ve been feeling really lost lately.”

In all the time he’s known you, never could he have expected you to feel lost. He wondered if he’d just put you on a pedestal. You had always been this stunningly charismatic, charming person that could walk into any room and in minutes, have everyone wrapped around your finger. For so long he denied any feelings for you because he knew you were unattainable – that someone like you could ever want someone like him felt impossible. Wouldn’t you be better off with one of those Wall Street assholes that came into the restaurant all the time – wining and dining their clients with their expensive wristwatches and fancy town cars?

But hearing you say it – that you feel lost – it reminds him that you’re only human too. 

He waits another beat, guilt filling up his throat, before he speaks again. 

“I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry.”

There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes you want to trust him. Sure, it seems like he’s been apologizing to you for three days straight, but you want to listen. 

You take another sip of your drink. 

“I started volunteering at a Brooklyn community garden so I could like, pull my head out of my ass,” you share with him. 

“Did it help?”

You shrug, “Yeah, a little bit.”

It helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. You feel like you can confide in him, especially since he told you that he was going to meetings.

“My therapist actually encouraged me to come here,” you confess, gauging his reaction as the words flow from your mouth. “Get out of dodge. Get a change of scenery… give myself some time to think.”

“We both know you do a little too much of that,” he teases gently, and you chuckle. 

Between Carmy’s avoidance, and your neuroses, you’re quite the pairing. 

“Yeah.”

Carmy pauses, not sure if he has the words to give you the explanation you deserve, but he’s going to try. 

“I had… a lot goin’ on. When I got back. And I didn’t know….” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know how to do it all at once. How to handle, you know… everything at the same time.”

And it’s just easier to avoid everything – to avoid you, to avoid the way I feel about you, he thinks to himself.

And it’s exactly what he did, he pushed you away, and pushed any and all feelings or thoughts about you into a dark hole, never to be acknowledged ever again. 

Until you quit your job. Until his phone call with Tim. Until his phone call with you. 

“I know, Carm. I know you’re sorry and I appreciate the apology,” you start, taking a breath. “It’s just that-.  I need you to know...” 

You pause, suddenly feeling like you’re in the middle of an anxiety dream where you realize you’re not wearing any pants.

“I need you to know that it hurt. It… it really hurt. Not hearing from you. Being cut out like that.”

“I know,” he admits, remorsefully. “I’m gonna be better. At least I’m trying to be.” 

“I really want to believe that,” you say, softly. 

But I don’t want to get hurt again, you think to yourself.

He looks at you, a soft, shy smile on his face, and it makes you want to take a chance on him. 

Who are you kidding? You’d jump off of a bridge with him if he asked, even if it meant getting hurt all over again.

“Okay?” he asks, hopefully. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking if it’s okay, if you’re okay, if everything is okay between the two of you, and you wonder if he means all three.

“Okay,” you answer, quietly. 

“Okay.”

read: part four

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Sneak Peek

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking.

A/N : It felt weird not to post something on a Friday, so here is the first 1000 words of my next Billy fic. At the end I've put a more exhaustive explanation of the themes and potentially triggering content that might come up during the course of the story so if you're not sure if this fic is for you, I recommend checking that out. Anyway, I'm super excited for this one and I hope to have the first chapter up on the 6th of September. (I'm also testing the tag list with this post, if you want to be added let me know!) .

Sneak Peek

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof. 

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”  

“Wow that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

Content and general warnings going for this whole fic : while I’m going to put appropriate TWs at the start of any chapter that require them as usual, I wanted to give a general overview of what this fic might contain so people can make an informed decision whether or not to engage with this fic. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, please consider not reading. Ultimately this is a Dark Romance and will contain themes like stalking and intimidation. At no point will it contain non-con perpetrated by Billy on the reader character, however there will be moments of unwanted kissing and physical contact, but it won’t get any worse than that. There will be explicit smut (we’re talking rough and dirty) and Billy’s actions/behaviour at times will be pretty gross. And there will be non-graphic discussions/allusions to non-con and murder, with regards to character’s pasts (i.e. Billy’s assault by Arthur) later on in the story. 

At its heart this is going to be a dark and toxic romance and it should go without saying that I don’t condone this sort of behaviour in real life. If you do not enjoy or feel you will be triggered by the aforementioned themes, please give this fic a miss.

(I'm just testing the tag list, but if you want adding/removing let me know!)

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl

[gaybananabread]

Hello there Kasey!! Thank you so much for answering my request!! And I was wondering if you were comfy with it if you would be alrighty with writing for Ruthie and Micheal for day 22 or 23 for tickletober? I don’t really mind who would be the Ler or Lee!! Thank you so much and YES!! Water is very important kids….O-O…

TickleTober Day 23 - Sweet

~OH MY BANANA PANCAKES FINALLY! I’ve been waiting to write this one since I got it, much excitement! For anyone out there who’s got no idea who these babies are, they’re two of @pocky-dragon's OCs that relate to the Spider-Verse. She’s got a bunch of adorable art for these two (and all her other amazing blorbos) if you wanna check ‘em out! Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy! Happy spooky season!~

Lee: Ruthie Parker

Ler: Micheal J. Watson

Summary: Ruthie’s had a long day of super-heroing, leaving her tired and clingy. Lucky for her, the spider girl has a living teddy bear for a boyfriend, and he’s almost always in the mood to make her day.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Ruthie groaned as she entered her boyfriend’s house, worn out from patrolling the city. She wasn’t hurt or upset; the girl was just ready for some R&R.

“Hey, angel. How was your day?” Micheal smiled as Ruthie lumbered in, a small giggle leaving him as she flopped down onto his chest. “That good, huh?”

“”M tired, Mikey…” Ruthie nuzzled her head against him, her speech slightly slurred with grogginess. It had been a long day of dealing with petty theft, street fights, and just general nonsense.

“Aww, poor Ruthie.” The freckled boy began to rub her back, his heart melting a little at the sound of her small purrs. She was obviously looking for some attention… Why not give the weary girl her favorite kind?

“You want some special Teddy cuddles?”

Ruthie nodded enthusiastically, letting out a little mew in agreement. She adored Teddy cuddles, especially when they were…well, special. Micheal knew her favorite way to make cuddles special.

“Alright. One order of special Teddy cuddles comin’ right up!” Micheal closed his eyes, reaching down to his DNA to trigger the shift.

He gave her forehead a little kiss before fur sprouted from his face, his jaw softly elongating into a fuzzy snout. Ruthie felt his fingers slowly curl into her shirt, flexing as the claws – carefully dulled down – came in.

Little anticipatory giggles bubbled out of the girl, a low purr rumbling in her chest. She was already so excited, even when she was sleepy; it was adorable.

“Such a cutie~” Micheal’s voice was a bit more gruff, thanks to his transformation. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over her ears. It sent little goosebumps across Ruthie’s arms; that tone meant she was gonna get got. “Arms up?”

“T-Teheddy…” Ruthie whined softly, but she still did as she was asked; the blonde wrapped her arms around her now-furry boyfriend’s neck, ready for a dose of giggly relaxation.

Mikey started by dragging his dull claws across the scar on her bag, tracing gentle patterns beneath her hoodie. The girl giggled softly, letting the squeaky titters out freely as she buried her face in his neck.

“Mmehehehe! Mihikey!” Ruthie’s purring was in full swing by then, rumbling softly against Micheal’s own chest. He couldn’t resist teasing her.

“Someone’s purring~” He hummed in her ear, the brief contact of his lips making her squeak. “I’m barely even doing anything, angel. It’s so cute!”

“I-Ihihi’m nohohot!” Ruthie’s little whine of protest was half-hearted at best. She knew it would provoke him into proving her wrong, and she couldn’t wait for it.

“Excuse me?” A small chuff left the bear boy, letting her know the words had hit their mark. “Are you lying to me now, Ruthie?”

Stubbornly, the spider girl shook her head, biting back giggles; she knew he wasn’t gonna let that slide. After the long day she’d had, Ruthie was craving some easy, fun, teddy-bear tickles.

“Hmm. Bad choice, angel.” Micheal’s right hand slipped down to tickle her belly while the left hooked under one of her arms, carefully wriggling his little claws into the sensitive skin there. Just to be a menace, he also nuzzled his cold bear nose against her ears, huffing to make her squeak.

“GYEEHeheheHEHEhe! *mew* T-TEHEHeddyhyhy!” The blonde wriggled and squirmed in his lap, doing her best to keep her arms around his neck. Little mews slipped in with her giggly purrs and laughter, making a lovely symphony for Micheal.

“What’s wrong? Is the little cutie ticklish?” He teased her, nuzzling his nose beneath her chin to hear her ear-splitting squeak. Despite all the wiggling and whining, he could tell she really was enjoying her tickles. “Is she gonna admit she’s cute?”

“F-FIHIHIhihine! Ihihi- *squeak* Ihi’m cuhuhute!” The girl’s ears burned as she admitted it, flustered and giddy from all the evil attention she was receiving. Luckily, Mikey’s bear nose was right there to “help” with her predicament.

“Was that so hard?” The fluffy boy pulled back for a quick moment, looking his girlfriend over. She was getting really sleepy, from the looks of her; he could probably sneak in one more big attack before a nap. “Do you want a reward?”

“Mmphehehe…y-yes.” Ruthie nodded, ducking her head to nuzzle against his fuzzy neck. She was feeling more and more tired as the tickling went on, but it was still fun; she simply had to listen to her body’s limits.

The moment she agreed, the blonde was grabbed and turned to lie across his lap instead of on his chest. Mikey slowly pulled the hem of her hoodie up, revealing her flushed, freckled tum.

“Oho gahash, Teddy!” Ruthie hid her face behind her hands as the cool air of the room hit her belly. She’d played the game too many times with him; his next move would be completely predictable and horribly ticklish.

“Try to hold still, angel~”

With that, he lowered his fuzzy head, blowing the biggest raspberry he could manage in the center of her stomach. It tickled enough on its own, but he shook his head as well, causing his fur to make it even worse.

“GYAHAHAHA! *mew* T-TEHEHEDDY! IHIT- *snort* NOHO!” Ruthie tossed her head back and forth, hands flapping with happy stims from the intense tickles. She felt two more smaller raspberries buzz against her belly, causing plenty of mews and squeals to fill the room.

Micheal was greatly enjoying himself, feeling his girlfriend’s belly bounce and move with every noise she made. He would’ve been content to go on forever, but he could tell she was more than worn out. The boy begrudgingly lifted his face, moving to instead place little kisses across her belly, traveling up to her face.

Ruthie gasped and giggled as the raspberries ceased, feeling his fuzzy lips trail up her belly. He hadn’t shifted back yet, which she was grateful for; she was very much in the mood for some soft cuddles.

“Oho mihi gahahash…” Ruthie’s smile was irrepressible, splitting her face and stretching her rosy cheeks as she giggled off the endorphins. Mikey was always so observant of her boundaries; she loved him for it. “Th-thahank you…meanie.”

“No problem, trouble-maker.” Micheal leaned down to peck her lips before gently lifting her, lying down in the process. Once they were both horizontal on the couch, he slipped both hands back under Ruthie’s hoodie to gently rub her sore muscles.

“Nap time?”

“Nap time,” Ruthie agreed, snuggling into the warmth of his furry form. While every part of him was adorable, she loved his bear form after tiring days and for cuddles. He was just the perfect napping place: warm, soft, and comfortable.

“Sleep tight, angel.” A low purr rumbled in Micheal’s chest, Ruthie’s own quickly joining to match it. Both found it endearing that the other would always join in, purposely or not.

They both soon drifted off, each lulled to sleep by the other’s soft purrs. Ruthie’s hands were buried in Micheal’s fur, while the bear boy had fallen asleep petting her head and back. They were cuddled up, absolutely comfortable, and thoroughly tuckered out. The perfect way to end an afternoon.

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (69)

*Code names are for losers*

Festus: Yo, guys-

Lysistrata: Not now, Creed.

Festus: Just hear me out.

Sejanus: Bro, be quiet. Someone might hear us.

Festus: It’s very important.

Coryo: No. We’re going to do our history homework today-

Festus: Really, Coryo? Inside the school gymnasium?

Coryo: Unfortunately.

Festus: But you could always finish that stupid paper tomorrow-

Coryo: Professor Demigloss said that whoever passes their homework first gets a day off from school.

Festus: But it’s the middle of the night and we are about to commit a crime against Dr. Gaul!

Coryo: Creed, calm down. It’s not the end of the world. We’re just here to steal that crazy woman’s plans for this year’s Hunger Games.

Festus: Which is a crime! A dangerous crime!

Coryo: That we’ve all agreed to commit together.

Sejanus: And forever.😍

Io: I’m so excited! This is my first time committing such a heinous act! I feel so rebellious-

Vipsania: Don’t say that word. It’s forbidden.

Io: Rebellious.☺️

Vipsania: *gasp* She said it again!

Coryo: We’ll be fine.

Festus: But still!

Coryo: I don’t care. I’m getting that day off with my boyfriend.

Sejanus: Me and Coryo are going to go on a super secret romantic date. Afterwards, we’re going to-

Lysistrata: F*ck.

Sejanus: Obviously.

Coryo: This is why we shouldn’t finish each other’s sentences.

Festus: You two are going on a secret romantic date without me?!

Coryo: Fortunately.

Festus: But I want to go on that date too!

Hilarius: Can I join? I wanna take some cute candid photos of Coryo-

Coryo: Ew. No. Go away.

Hilarius: I’ll give you 20 bucks.

Coryo: Not enough.

Festus: How about we all go on a double date instead!

Coryo: A double date with who?

Festus: With me and Percy-

Hilarius: And me!😀

Sejanus: No! My Snowy and I need our ✨alone time✨ too!

Coryo: We’re going to-

Felix: F*ck. We know.

Festus: But I wanna go on a date with you guys!😫

Felix: Bro, lower your voice. No one knows we’re here, remember?

Festus: But-

Androcles: Shhhh! Do you hear that?

Coryo: Hear what?

Androcles: I think I heard someone or something squeaking-

Festus: That’s just my precious Odysseus.

Androcles: Who’s Odysseus?

Festus: My freaky pet rat.

Vipsania: Creed, I told you not to bring your ugly fat rat to school!

Festus: Sickle, my bro, don’t be like that. My Ody just wanted to run around and get some fresh air. That’s all.

Vipsania: Not inside the school gymnasium! I workout, eat, and sleep here for Panem’s sake!

Felix: Ney Ney, why do you even live here? Last time I checked, you and your super buff family live in a huge luxurious house that looks like a gym.

Vipsania: Yeah. However, my very competitive and delusion mother kicked me out last year.😞

Felix: Why? What did you do?

Vipsania: She thinks that I’m an enemy of the state for having more track and field medals than her. So she kicked me out.

Gaius: That’s wild, bro.

Domitia: Girl, your mother’s insane.

Hilarius: My parents kicked me out too. Now I live in a dumpster with Creed and his rats.😊

Festus: You don’t even pay rent.😒

Hilarius: I will. . . Someday.

Pup: How the mighty have fallen.

Florus: Sorrows and prayers.

Hilarius: Thanks-

Florus: Not you, Heavensbee. I’m giving my condolences to Ney Ney.

Vipsania: I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I still have my auntie Sickle.

Festus: Anyways-

Coryo: Babe, what’s the answer to question 7?

Sejanus: Read it for me, my love.😍

Coryo: Who is the current mayor of District 2?

Sejanus: Mr. Rocky Rock O’Rolly.

Coryo: Thanks, Babe.

Lysistrata: Is he a good person?

Sejanus: Mr. O’Rolly is not even a person. He’s just a piece of rock.

Lysistrata: Like literally?

Sejanus: He’s very solid.

Lysistrata: So a piece of rock is currently the mayor of District 2.

Sejanus: He’s been the mayor since we were in grade school.

Gaius: And nobody said anything?!

Dennis: Bro, where did your people even find Mr. Rocky Rock O’Rolly?

Sejanus: A random hobo found him “sitting” inside a cave 4 days before the election.

Urban: Who the f*ck would vote for a piece of rock?

Sejanus: Don’t judge my District! They’re trying their best!

Urban: To ruin their lives!

Coryo: Canville, shut up. We don’t have the right to judge them.

Urban: I can judge whoever I want!

Coryo: We literally voted a fluffy fat cat to be our official Capitol Mayor a few months ago.

Urban: But to be fair, Boa Bell is a good Mayor.

Sejanus: Mr. Rocky Rock O’Rolly is also a good Mayor, Ban Ban!

Urban: Is he cute?

Sejanus: No. He’s an ugly rock.

Urban: Can he respond back to you?

Sejanus: No.😞

Urban: That’s what I thought.

Pup: But don’t forget, the true leaders of Panem are a bunch of dogs.

Felix: They’re not just an ordinary bunch of dogs though. They’re-

Pup: A “sacred” pack of Bichon Frisé puppies. We get it.

Clemensia: Pup, does it bother you that your father is taking orders from a literal fur baby?

Pup: No. He loves it.

Festus: But seriously, guys-

Everyone: Creed, no.

Festus: Creed, yes!

Coryo: Ugh. Fine! Fire away.

Festus: Yey! So I was thinking-

Persephone: We’re now thinking?

Festus: No, not really. But since we’re going to stop the Hunger Games forever and save our Tributes from killing each other, we should start with creating our ✨code names✨.

Coryo: Code names?

Festus: Yeah! Code names like Class Pres-

Felix: “Class Pres” is not a code name, Creed. It’s short for Class President.

Festus: Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Class Pres.

Io: I’m with Creed on this one. Having code names are fun!

Juno: For what?

Io: For ✨Operation Felix✨!

Livia: Ew. Code names are for losers. I’m going with ✨Sparkly Sparkly 123✨.

Festus: That’s too long. Make it shorter.

Livia: Fine.🙄 I’m ✨Hot Pink✨.

Palmyra: I’m Monty-

Festus: No. you can’t have “obvious” code names.

Palmyra: Ok. I’m Palmyra-

Festus: Ugh! You guys are so bad at this.

Palmyra: But I’m Palmyra Monty-

Festus: I’ve decided that I’ll be the one to give you guys your code names.

Felix: That’s not fair-

Festus: Felix, you’ll be Hello Kitty.

Felix: I do love Hello Kitty.

Festus: Coryo, you’re Cabbage Soup.

Coryo: What?!

Festus: Sejanus, you’ll be Sugar Daddy.

Sejanus: Coryo’s sugar daddy.🥰

Festus: Palmyra, you’ll be Deadly Pie.

Palmyra: I’m Monty-

Festus: Livia, we all know you’re Hot Pink.

Livia: Obviously.

Festus: Florus, you can be Introvert John.

Florus: That- that actually makes sense.

Festus: Jasper, you’ll be Nuclear Lover.

Io: Ok!😊

Festus: Urban-

Urban: No.

Festus: You’re Anger Issues.

Urban: F*ck you.

Festus: Percy, you’re-

Persephone: Cannibal.☺️

Festus: No.

Coryo: She’s Cannibal, Creed. Deal with it.

Festus: Fine. Dennis, you’ll be Illegal Man Juan.

Dennis: Nice!

Festus: Iphigenia, you’re Super Mart.

Iphigenia: Isn’t that obvious?

Festus: Fine. You can be Skeletor.

Iphigenia: But-

Festus: Apollo, you’ll be Sunshine Valley.

Apollo: Yey!

Festus: Diana-

Diana: I’m Moony!

Festus: Ok. Ney Ney, you’re Buff Baby.

Vipsania: I can live with that.

Festus: Pup, you’ll be Commando Sleeper.

Pup: Cool.

Festus: Juno, you’re-

Juno: Princess Peach.

Festus: Princess B*tch?

Juno: Princess Peach, dumbass!

Festus: Fine! You’re Princess Witch! Happy?!

Juno: Like I care.🙄

Festus: Hilari, you’re-

Hilarius: Queen Bee! I’ll be Queen Bee!

Festus: Fine. Gaius, you’ll be-

Gaius: Zoolander!

Felix: That doesn’t make sense.

Gaius: My family owns the zoo.

Felix: That still doesn’t make sense-

Festus: Zoolander it is.

Gaius: That’s right!

Festus: Andie, you’ll be Catch Me If You Can.

Androcles: Nice!

Festus: Tia, you’re-

Domitia: Cheese Maiden!

Festus: Why?

Domitia: My family sells cheese.

Festus: Your family sells milk-

Domitia: And the best cheese.

Festus: Right. Arachne, you’re- Where’s Arachne?

Coryo: She’s asleep.

Festus: Good. She’ll be Spoon On My Nose.

Clemensia: She won’t like that-

Festus: She’s Spoon On My Nose. End of story.

Clemensia: She’ll kill you.

Festus: She won’t. Clemmie, you’ll be Blood Orange.

Clemensia: I rather be-

Festus: Blood Orange, do you copy?

Clemensia: Copy?

Festus: Good! Lizzie, you’ll be Droug Deleour-

Lysistrata: That’s too obvious! Call me something else.

Festus: Drug Delecour?

Lysistrata: Let’s stick with Droug Deleour. I’m Droug Deleour.

Felix: How about you, Creed? What’s your code name?

Festus: I’m-

Livia: Garbage?

Juno: Dumbass!

Dennis: Rat Boy!

Coryo: Cheesecake!

Sejanus: Burger!

Festus: No! I’m Eagle One!

Everyone: Heck, no!

Festus: Fine. I’ll go with Garbage Man 123.😔

[theonewhoseinlovewithfictionals]

Mr. Here To Stay

A simple romantic story.

Warning: It includes sexual languages. So if you are a minor, please do not continue.

Note: Modern AU with Marco as a doctor (obviously); Ace as an influencer; Thatch as a well-known chef; Izo as a ammunition business owner; Y/N as an Accountant. (N- name whoever you want)

PART 1

Normal day in a never-ending cycle in your office. You sit in front of your two monitors, checking each employee's pay is correctly calculated. Your eyes are getting sore now. You lean back at your ergo chair and decides to close your eyes for a minute. Suddenly, you hear someone shriek coming towards you. It's your co-worker/one of your pals in the group. Her name is (N1). She arrives at your department with blushes on cheeks and huge smile. Everyone in your station, five - including you and all of them are your pals, got attention so you sit up properly and waits her to land on her seat and maybe calm down a bit?

Another co-worker whose gay and also your pal (N2): (N1), spill the tea! Is he really handsome?

You narrowed your eyes, smiles and shakes your head 'no' as you heard the word 'handsome' and thought, here we go again...

(N1) just nods without hesitation: Super! then she giggles

Both of them shrieks but you contradicted them: Oh uh, handsome? He'll probably make you cry!

you laugh at their expression and (N1) slaps you at your shoulder while (N2) replied: Hey! Just because your relationship in the past failed, that doesn't mean you can be bitter as gourd can be!

You: Haha, funny! Speak for yourself, you never even had a relationship!

(N2) middle-finger you which makes you laugh. You love it when N2 pisses off.

(N1): Well, you should see him, you know! He's handsome than your ego super dumb ass ex-boyfriend!

You: Nah! I'll pass.

(N3, the Senior Accountant): Y/N, it's already been what? 9 months? still haven't move on?!

You nudge N3: Oy! I already moved on! It's just that...I just want to fully recovered before you know...date again.

N4 pushes the ergo chair towards you with a coffee on N4's hand: Don't worry, Y/N, (N's name) still waiting for you.

You: The HR guy? Isn't he too young for me?

N4: You’re older, a 2-year age gap.

You: ahh, no, I'd really prefer someone older than me.

N4: I get it, you prefer a 50s to 60s?

They burst out laughing at N4's answer which you fully well-know it's a joke.

You: N4, know why you're partner left you? It's because you are a dumbass. I said 'older than me' not 'waaaaaaaaaaaay older than me'.

N4: my partner came back.

N2: "You fucking let it? Your partner cheated on you! and yet..."N2 sighs and shrugs: "oh well, just like Y/N said, dumbass..."

N4: I love my partner!

N2: Yeah right, sounds like desperation to me!

N1 widens her eyes as she sees that our manager is approaching us. We all return quickly to our station and work.

The Manager places elbow on your left side cubicle: Y/N, here, include this on our pay period.

You receive the papers with a couple of pages. You read the form and couldn't help but eyes widen at the hefty signing bonus amount. You blurt out: Seriously?, then you look at your Manager whose face is serious and nods at you. You shrugs and sighs: Sana ol (I hope everyone experience that)

Your Manager places both arms over the chest: guys, I can hear your gossip up to my office. Have shame to those who can hear you when they passed-by!

N2: Manager, I heard the new doctor of this hospital is handsome.

Manager: Is that the noise about?

N1 and N2 nods.

The Manager raise one eyebrow: Okay, I'll check him out.

The Manager turns her heels and exited the department. While all of your workmate come close to you and checks the papers why you blurt out.

N1 gasps: OMG! That's him! That's his name!!

N1 shrieks again. N1 takes the papers from your hand and scans the pages: Gosh, look at the amount oh!

They all agreed. N1: Sis, if this ever become my husband, ay nako, I'll give him BJ everyday!

Your face crumples and chuckles: That's not how relationship work. I shake my head.

N3: Ay correct!

N1: Hmp! here, input it already so that my hubby get what he deserve!

You laugh and they all go back to their computers and start working again. You face again the monitor but before you enter it to the system. Your thought invaded you, Why he receive such a hefty amount of signing bonus?

You try to ignored it but eventually give up. You flip the pages and found an application form and resume. You read through it. Name: Marco Newgate Age: 45 Field: Internal Medicine Department: Healthcare

After that, you see a list of accomplishment and achievements, recognition and awards, not just from your local but international.

You nod and agree, he deserves it.

You flip again the papers to the front page. You look at the monitor but somethings bugging you. Your eyes subconsciously glance at the paper, tempting you to take it. Your left hand on the mouse started fighting whether to stay or to follow the temptation. Then, your head starts to ponder: what does he look like?

You freeze at a minute, wait, why am I starting to get curious about this Dr.? You chuckle and dismiss the idea. Minutes pass, you still can’t be over with the page you’ve been since an hour ago or so. You lean back and rub your face. Closing your eyes for a minute. When your thoughts calm down and you felt like you’re ready to do your tasks. Upon opening your eyes, a small picture (2x2) is the first thing you see. Without hesitation, you grab it and check the photo.

Flipping, you see the picture of the infamous doctor. Blonde hair in the middle like a pineapple. You also notice his half-lidded, gorgeous blue eyes with a genuine smile. You can’t help but to stare at his photo until you lost in trance.

N3: Why are smiling?

And that snaps you out. You blink many times and trying to recall what N3’s question. N3, being curious, look over at the paper you’re holding which you immediately flip over. You feel your cheeks heat. N3 clicks tongue, “it seems he caught your attention…somehow…” smiles at you teasingly.

You reply, covering your sin, “yeah, who wouldn’t when you have a huge signing bonus…” you said in a flat voice.

N3 just shrugs and continues to work.

You slap your cheeks and shake the thing off. You let your work drift you but one thing remains…

His blue eyes haunts you…

[warlordess]

Ooooh mind telling us about the stobin paranoia one? Or the country club meet cute?

Oh gawd, oh gawd; my dumbass critical anxiety (on top of being exhausted after working 32 hours in two days; tbh it's mostly that second thing) kept me from answering this until now.

I do want to remind whoever, including OP, that I don't really have anything more than bare bones synopses for any of the ideas I mentioned. Also, i haven't talked up a thing I've created in so long that I don't know if I remember how.

That being said, another Steddie acquaintance, @ataliagold (go read their Steddie things maybe?? They're very good, gimme just the right amount of yummy whump) asked me about both of these in PMs so I have shared a little bit about each and they liked both concepts a lot, which gave me some courage.

So, anyway, as for the Stobin paranoia fic, which I've wondered if perhaps "paranoia" is too strong a word but eeeh... Basically, it takes place right after Starcourt (maybe like the week following or so). It's pretty well-established that Steve and Robin were still at least a bit high and hopped up on truth serum during The Bathroom Talk, not to mention the memory blurring is probably even more effed up by Steve's 74th concussion in three years (lol... sorta), so Steve gets it in his head that he somehow forced Robin to come out to him and, knowing how important safety is for a hidden queer person, especially in a place like Hawkins, he starts spiraling and isolating from her. He doesn't deserve to have his person if he has to manipulate them into divulging their secrets to him after all, she's far better off without the resident douchenozzle, Steve Harrington, invading her space and privacy and having any intimate (platonic) expectations of their relationship. While he's all in his own head about that, Robin starts coming around to check on him, only to realize she's being ignored. This causes her to eventually start spiraling too - of course the great King Steve couldn't handle being friends with a fucking dyke, of course he would snub her after the smoke and fog cleared and he remembered that she'd spurned his advances, what a load of crock, she should have known better - thus their newly formed super bond starts having holes drilled into it... Anyway, the fic is about that whole misunderstanding and them trying to work through it. I just love that kinda trope 'cause I'm the worst.

As for the Steddie country club meet-cute, it starts off similarly to a couple other fics I've read here Eddie is forced to go straight (financially only) after Reefer Rick is arrested and his supply dries up and the cops have hounded him and Wayne enough times and etc. He ends up employed at the semi-local country club predominantly as a caddy. Decent pay, some tips even, enough downtime while standing on the sidelines and aimlessly following his current client around that he can think up some future campaign ideas... and, early on, another perk introduced is his good-looking apparent coworker (who he unfortunately crosses paths with while coworker is being reamed by one of the more infamous club members). He and Steve pass each other a few more times and begin engaging, closing some distance until it's unfortunately revealed that Steve is NOT his coworker and is in fact closely related to the rich fucker that was seen yelling at him on day one. He had a good excuse for being in uniform that first time but has obviously decided to lie in order to fuck with Eddie every day since.

Well, anyway, those are the general premises of those particular fics. I feel like I gave too much away but also like I didn't really say anything at all. Lol.

[1unpaid-intern]

Sooooo I usually just post about my recent obsessions (that being tgcf rn), but I just had an internship and I figured since I fits my name I might as well post something about it.

I actually applied at a different company first, because everything was online and via email, so I didn't have to call anybody. And at first everything was looking great. I filled out the online formular, wrote a few emails with a lady from the human resources department, she said it's looking good and that she'll write me again when my application has been fully processed. After that I didn't hear from her for a while and then out of nowhere she's like "Sorry but we can't take anymore interns rn". So after emotionally recovering from that I replied with the typical "Sad to hear that, but thanks for your answer bla bla bla ... Also could I maybe apply for an internship at a later date?" Aaaaaannd I haven't heard from her til this day, so yeah I got the hint.

I then ended up at a smaller company, because my Mom knows a guy there (I think he is the husband of her great cousin or sth like that). I first had to suffer through some VERY awkward phone calls, but I somehow survived (I ended up giving them the wrong email, because I was so nervous, fuck you social anxiety, and even had to call them again because of it 🥲).

The internship wasn't bad, I originally wanted to do one as a graphic designer, but since the small company's marketing department consisted only of two people, who actually just were office management clerks, that specialized in marketing and knew all the Adobe programms, I had to compromise a little. Even though they were super nice and showed me all their tasks, I felt kinda useless, because I barely did anything in comparisson to them.

I had to:

- Check the new calender they designed in case they got holidays or something else wrong (they obviously didn't)

- Prepare a presentation on how to reache and then also hopefully get more trainees (they gave me way to much time for that, I'm used to pumping those out in two hours, because of school)

- Put some labels on Schnaps bottles, that they gave out to customers for their 125th anniversary

- Help packing up some other giveaways (like pens, measuring tape, t-shirts and so on)

The best thing was honestly overhearing all the gossip from the department next to us. My personal favourite was when they were talking about this one lady and one of the younger employes joked about her having an onlyfans. His older coworker obviously didn't know what that was, so he explained it to him and his reaction was just priceless. At first he was in denial, he thought he was joking, then he was in shock, because he just couldn't believe that people actually made money with this, and in the end he just stared laughing hysterically.

After the internship was over, I actually realized that they were making fun of me too and I feel kinda stupid for not realizing it earlier. Apparently it's very common here in Germany to refer to an overweight intern as a "Praktifant". A mix of the words Praktikan (=intern) and Elefant 🐘. The young guy, who made the onlyfans joke, always started playing "Colonel Hathi's March" from the Jungle Book shortly after I came in ...

I mean I'm not mad, because I geniunly like the song and it made everything less serious, so I wasn't as nervous. So, thanks I guess?

Also Bowser is into Elephants so I'll take this as a compliment. 🐘

[we-are-dreamers42]

Nightingale: We Are Alike Part III

Bucky Barnes x OGcharacter

photo by me

Needing answers Alexandra tracks down her Mystery Man or Bucky Barnes.

Word Count: 1,151

Series List

WARNING: Some violence

Chapter 15

“How’s it going over there?” Steve asked.

I’m on a three-way call with Sam and Steve. We checked in every few days to stay up to date with our situations. The three of us have been hunting down The Winter Soldier or Bucky Barnes or in my case my Mystery Man.

I’ve been aiding Steve with his search once the government agreed for me to become an Avenger. Since they technically forced my servitude to an undercover terrorist organization there wasn’t much of a debate. For the most part. I really am trying to help my friend, but I had my own reasons for finding the assassin. I had questions that I didn’t want the others knowing. It wasn’t anything bad. They just didn’t need to know.

So as far as they know I’m in Budapest, but in reality, I’m in my hotel room in Moscow. Timmy, bless his heart, caught a glimpse of James Barnes on a security camera here in Russia.

Right after I was allowed to roam free from any restrictions. I went straight to LA. I wished I recorded the look on Roxy’s face when she opened the door and saw me. She started to cry, I kept it together. Like always. Didn’t need two bumbling messes in the hallway.

I didn’t come back for just a reunion, but to ask a favor. It was mostly a reunion though.

“What you’re asking is impossible.” He proclaimed.

“I’m seventy-eight years old with super serum running in my veins. You finding someone doesn’t compare.”

“You couldn’t comprehend the number of cameras there are in the world. Most governments can’t even do it. I would need a satellite, and a supercomputer to even consider trying. Unless you narrow down to specifics it is impossible.”

“Timmy please Is there anything you can do?” I hated begging, but I wanted this done. I needed it.

“I have people I can call. It won’t be right away. This will take time.”

“Whatever it takes, just try and keep it on the down-low.” Didn’t want to risk unwanted attention. It was six months later he got a hit.

So I’ve been watching James Buchanan Barnes from a distance for about a week now. He’s been very quiet. Laying low, not bringing attention to himself. He sat at a cafe every day, never ordering anything. He just sat there and wrote in a notebook.

I wondered if he even knew I was there. If he did then why not confront me or try to run? If he didn’t know then he was sloppy. With his record, I knew he wasn’t. So why?

“It's a dead-end here,” I answered Steve’s question. After I get my answers I’ll tell them. I didn’t need to be hovered over right now.

“Okay we’ll reconvene soon there are a few things I’ll be busy with.”

“Avenger’s stuff?”

“We found the location of Loki’s scepter. Until that is finished this will have to hold.” “And Alex since you’re around the area there is someone who could use your help if you’re up for it.” He’s talking about Fury.

“No problem.” I felt bad lying to Steve, but I’ve been in contact with Fury since I landed in Europe. He felt best not to tell Steve, we were going to use the information that The Winter Soldier had about HYDRA to find the rest of the bases. Fury allowed me to travel freely without a watchful eye. Just more side agendas.

The next day like clockwork James headed out of his grungy apartment he’d been staying in. How he paid for rent I had yet to see. I waited about an hour to ensure he was gone before I went up the ten floors to his apartment.

I picked the lock, but the door just swung open. I’m starting to doubt this guy knew anything. I’ve been obviously stalking the man, and he left the door unlocked. Either he really didn’t know I was here or didn’t care.

I looked around his basic ass room. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. A mattress on the ground with a sleeping bag for a blanket. Bathroom with a single toothbrush. Nothing in the kitchen. No food in the fridge or dishes in the cupboards. I was about to give up when. Then I noticed the ripped wallpaper.

I pulled it back revealing a hidey-hole where he stashed a backpack. “Hello, secrets.”

Inside was a group of notebooks. I’m about to flip through one when my built-in alarm started ringing. It was my personal Winter Soldier detector.

“When I didn’t see you at the cafe I could only assume you’d finally try something.” He said standing in the doorway.

“So you did know I was watching you.” I stood up to face him. My hand close to my belt ready to grab a knife.

“You made it pretty obvious.” He stepped closer looking like he was ready to attack.

“Here I just thought you were incredibly stupid.” I taunt.

“Then you should’ve done your research before you decided to come after me.” After learning who he actually was I read up on him more. I had an inkling of his past when Steve would talk about his best friend from Brooklynn. Learning anything and everything I could about this man.

He lunged at me.

I stepped to the side dodging him. We went for what couldn’t be more than a few minutes of quick-paced fighting. He grabbed my wrist with his metal arm. Using my free hand I grab ahold of his arm and turn forcing him to flip over my back. He landed on the floor.

“The questions I have aren’t in a file.” I was still holding onto him when he pulled me to the ground. Before I could react he was on top of me holding me down. He left one hand free as I took a knife from my belt, and stabbed him in the leg.

Distracted by my knife sticking out of his thigh I punched him in the face, and he toppled off me. He and I get up and start circling.

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to talk.” He took out the knife and threw it back at me. Moving to the side it flies past my head. Just in time, I caught it by the hilt.

He used my distractedness to kick me in the chest. I went flying back through the wall.

I could see him coming after me, but I just held my hands up. “Let me buy you coffee.”

He paused his motion to punch me. “Coffee?” Surprised that I asked such a mundane question at a time like this.

“That cafe actually has good drinks. If you’d bother to order something.” I gave him my best ‘I don’t have any other motives smile.

Chapter 16

[kitten4sannie]

OKOK VAMP!YUNGI.. if they're together i like to imagine they'd be competitive against each other when y/n is around. maybe both boys are pining after you and trying to show off their special ✨️vamp abilities✨️ and see who can impress you better. (oooh maybe one-upping each other in flirting too, yungi are super affectionate with others anyway) yunho and mingi definitely have a natural talent of determination when they wanna achieve something, so i can see them suggesting tagteaming y/n in a way of like 'who can pleasure them more'

-the same vamp headcanon anon (my brain is so enlightened rn)

holy shit those are really great ideas! ooof i can feel the hamster in my brain starting to run on his little wheel again ;; again tysm for sharing your headcanons with me it really helps 🥰 just fyi i spaced this out like a regular fic cuz it bothers me when it’s just one long text lol

“Check this shit out, Y/N.” Mingi’s lifting up the giant, dusty armoire inside his bedroom, making it seem like he was simply holding up an empty box.

You clapped your hands together, exclaiming, “Holy shit, Mingi! You’re so strong!”

Once he lowered it to the ground with a loud thud, Yunho put a hand on your shoulder and leaned in, claiming, “Well, yeah, super strength is cool and all, but I can last all day and all night, if you’d let me prove it, of course.”

You stared up at him, at a loss for words due to his sudden boldness. Yunho’s cold, slender fingers squeezed into your shoulder, just as he gave you a wicked smile. “I want to see how many times you can cum for me before you pass out. Does that sound fun, doll?”

Mingi was already standing directly in front of you, setting his heavy hand down on your opposite shoulder, fuming at this point. “She won't cum at all if I'm not involved.”

i can definitely picture them sandwiching you between their large bodies against the wall. Mingi’s in front of you, giving you the sweetest smile, despite being three fingers deep in your pulsing hole and finger-fucking you at an unholy pace. “Feels nice, huh?”

You nod your head rapidly, holding onto Mingi’s shoulders for dear life, feeling lightheaded from the almost supernatural weight and speed of his fingers moving inside you.

Yunho’s behind you, with an arm snaked around your waist, rubbing your clit rapidly with two fingers, purring directly into your ear, “Does that feel good, doll? Do you like the way he’s working your pretty little cunt? Or do you like the way I’m playing with your clit?”

You couldn’t even speak at this point, too overwhelmed by the orgasm that was sending spikes of pleasure throughout your entire body. Yunho didn’t need to hear your answer, however, already believing he was supplying you the most pleasure.

Mingi’s not having it, announcing, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Yunho. She’s been clenching around my fingers the whole time, so it’s obvious she likes me more.”

Yunho scoffed, squeezing your overly sensitive clit, making your legs tremble. “Yeah, well, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and take your dick out.”

Mingi continued to shove his digits into you, making you feel like you were going to cum again, replying, “Bro, what?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, using his free hand to grab and knead one of your tits, earning a small moan from your parted lips. “So you can fuck Y/N and prove yourself, obviously. Though, it might be a waste of time, since she’ll be bouncing on my cock for the rest of the night.”

[trashywritestrash]

last request of the day before i have to leave my break (i hate customer service)

no thoughts, head absolutely empty, just you and character of your choosing consistently being teased by your friends that you like each other since you basically act like a married couple (light hearted bickering, randomly bringing each other pick me ups throughout the day) before basically at the same time realizing shit i do like this person and instead of it being a normal confession the two end up arguing about who fell in love first-

thank you for your service of satisfying my brainrot, i will be back again soon-

Domestic Bliss

Pairing: Ryan Erzahler x reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Detailed conversation on different ways to die but no actual violence, swear words, mentions of kids getting into a fight but no description of it. A lot of bickering lmao

A/N: The way I IMMEDIATELY thought of Ryan— fan behavior

gif by rizupicor

It’s early in the morning, way too early. One of the downsides of working at a summer camp is that you have to be awake hours before the campers are. You and the other counselors gather in a room of the lodge that has been deemed the unofficial staff lounge. Mr. H didn’t actually give you guys permission for this, but he doesn’t care.

When you enter, Ryan is already sitting in one of the plush armchairs looking dead tired. He has his earbuds in and his eyes closed. You almost think he’s asleep until you see one of his hands rub over his face. Gently approaching the chair, you set a cup on the table in front of him. Ryan opens his eyes only a few seconds later, beckoned by the smell of fresh coffee. He looks at the cup for a moment before looking up at you, giving you a tired smile.

“Thanks, Y/N.” His voice comes out as a low rumble, obviously effected by his fatigue. Ryan picks up the cup and takes a large gulp, not hesitating at all. You know how he likes his coffee by heart, and that showed Ryan that he can trust anything you give him.

“No problem.” You take a seat on the arm of Ryan’s chair. There are plenty of available seats, but you don’t want any of them. “What are you listening to?”

“Bizarre Yet Bonafide.”

You chuckle, “Of course. What are they talking about this time?”

Ryan takes one of his earbuds out and holds it out for you. Once you take it and set it comfortably in your ear, he answers “Bigfoot.”

“Ugh, he’s gotta be my least favorite.” You grumble.

Ryan shakes his head slightly. “How dare you?”

“What? He’s not scary, he’s just a big animal in the woods. Like a bear.”

“Bears are scary.”

“But not in a supernatural way, just in a this-thing-could-kill-me way.”

Ryan scoffs. “And that’s not scary?”

“No. There are lots of things that can kill me, what makes bears so special?”

“Being mauled to death by a bear would be, like, super painful.”

“So would burning to death. Like I said: Bears aren’t special.”

Ryan points a finger at you, “But Bigfoot is not a bear.”

“He basically is. He’s not gonna curse me or cast a spell, he might chase me but that’s about it.”

“And if he catches you he’ll brutally murder you.”

“So would a bear.”

“Oh my god— You’re missing the point!” Ryan sighs, almost spilling his coffee as he throws his hands up in annoyance.

“The point is that Bigfoot isn’t as scary as other supernatural beings because he’s basically a bear walking upright.”

“Holy shit, it is way too early for you two to start this!” Kaitlyn shouts from across the room. “Please, for the sake of my sanity, change the topic.”

“Fine.” Ryan frowns, but quickly returns to his neutral expression as he reaches into his bag. “Oh, I got this for you.”

In a ziplock bag is a couple of your favorite cookies. He hands it to you. “I checked the kitchen this morning and they had the ones that you like. Mrs. Edwards told me to grab one, but I took these when she went to grab something from the freezer.”

You giggle at his story, taking one of the cookies out of the bag before breaking it into two halves and offering one of them to Ryan. He accepts it and you both nibble your cookies contently while listening to the podcast (even if Bigfoot isn’t that cool).

—————

“You cannot be serious right now, Y/N! That is such bullshit!” Emma rolls her eyes, not believing a word you’re saying. Some of your fellow counselors are sitting around the campfire with you. But not all. Ryan, Dylan, and Abi are conveniently absent.

You huff. “I’m completely serious. Ryan and I are not together.” Honestly, you’re getting tired of it at this point. Constantly being teased for your friendship with Ryan messes with your head.

Kaitlyn nods at you, a knowing look in her eye. “You’ve gotta admit though, you two are super domestic. It’s adorable. Disgusting, but adorable.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re together.”

Emma frowns, “No, it means that you should be! Can you honestly say that you don’t have feelings for Ryan?”

You go to shoot back your response but stop in your tracks. The three missing counselors walk over to the bonfire, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Ryan sits next to you automatically. “You okay?”

“Yeah— Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous. Ryan hearing the conversation shouldn’t be so nerve wracking… Unless you do actually have feelings for him. Shit.

“I heard your class got really rowdy today. I was gonna come over, but Mr. H couldn’t cover my group.”

You give him a tired smile. “Yeah, some of the older kids started fighting. Trashed the room. And my walkie died, so I couldn’t radio anyone.”

“So what happened?” Ryan shifts in his spot, looking a little worried.

“I got into mean counselor mode. Shouted at them to make them stop. Jacob was next door, so he came over to help.”

From across the bonfire, Jacob chuckles. “She didn’t need help. When I walked in, the boys were already separated. I asked what was going on and she just said “These three are just about to clean up their mess. And then they’ll march up to the lodge so they can call their parents and explain why they have to sit out of swim time later.” Every kid in that room went dead silent.”

“Y/N can be scary when she wants to,” Abi pipes up.

Ryan gives the group a small grin. “I’d like to think she learned it from me.”

“Oh, no way.” You shake your head at him. “You’re not scary, you’re creepy. There’s a difference.”

“Rude.”

“Is it though?”

Before Ryan can say anything, Emma leans forward. “Before you two start squabbling like an old married couple; Ryan, I have a question for you.”

“Uh… Okay?” He looks off put by this, clearly unsure of what Emma could want.

You have a bad feeling about this. Your feeling turns out to be accurate when you see Emma smirk mischievously. “What’s your relationship with Y/N really?”

Ryan tenses up next to you, “We’re friends.”

“Just friends? You’re sure? Because you two act like more than that.” Emma presses. Ryan looks like he’s deep in thought for a moment before he blinks out of it.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re just friends.”

Kaitlyn raises a brow. “Pretty sure? So you’re not positive?”

“Well, I mean— I don’t…” Ryan stumbles over his words and his eyes shift around, never landing on you.

You stay silent, not knowing what to say. How are you supposed to help him in this situation? “We’re leaving camp in three days so right now both of you are coming clean. Total honesty. Have either of you, at any point this summer, wanted to be more than friends?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, but Ryan beats you to it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” It slips out before you can stop it. “What does that mean?!”

“It means I guess.”

“When did you want to be more than friends?!”

“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter.” Ryan still won’t look at you.

Your heart feels like it stops beating for a moment. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“Because you never wanted us to be more than friends! And I respect that, so the only thing that saying that would do is make this awkward.” Ryan shouts a little in annoyance, but you aren’t startled.

“I never said that I didn’t want to be more than friends.”

You can physically see Ryan freeze like a deer in headlights. “Wait— When was that?”

“Oh, so now it matters!”

“Just answer the damn question.” Ryan rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know… Early into the summer, I guess.”

Your confession shocks Ryan, causing him to turn his entire body to face you. “Bullshit. I’ve liked you since the start of the summer.”

“Do you still like me?” Your heart is in your throat right now with how nervous you are.

“Yeah, of course I do. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, I couldn’t just stop loving you.”

Now you fully freeze. Your brain stops and starts for a moment or two as you try to collect your thoughts. “I still like you too.”

“Holy shit— Really? You’re not messing with me right now? ‘Cuz if you are, that’s really shitty.”

“I’m not messing with you.” You can’t stop the pure happy smile that comes to your face.

The two of you had totally forgot that all of the other counselors were there with you, listening to this entire conversation.

“That’s adorable,” Emma coos. “But can you guys save the rest of this conversation for later, because it’s not the vibe we’re going for here.”

Kaitlyn quickly turns to her. “You’re the one who was bugging Y/N about this. Now you wanna take it back?”

“I didn’t say that, I said that they should finish this talk later.”

“Yeah, you guys are turning your love confession into another lovers quarrel. I don’t know how you did it, but you did.” Nick adds his thoughts to the mix, causing you and Ryan to sigh.

“Fine…” Ryan leans over to whisper in your ear. “For the record, I fell for you first.”

You frown. “No, you didn’t. I did.”

“No, I was definitely first. It’s been since like… week three.”

“Well I’ve liked you since week two.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not—“ Ryan gets cut off when you hear a shout from Kaitlyn.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!”

—————

If you enjoyed this or would like to read more of my work, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-fi!

[prolix-yuy]

This list of themes is incredible!! They’re all so good. I’m going to combine two:

Reunion AND The power of words

Preference for fluffy, but I won’t say not to a smidge of angst.

Featuring this man

😌😍

I love you!!

xoxo

Skyeeeee my beloved! You deserve this ask after all the times I groaned into our DMs about being nervous about writing Javi. Well now we're getting somewhere after @beecastle's lovely intro story, and I hope you enjoy where I took it! I definitely took some inspiration from Lie to Me because, duh, how couldn't I, it's immaculate and i adore every new chapter. Love you to pieces!

The Road Ahead

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: And there are many paths to tread.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: M, angst, allusions to violence, smoking, lots of Javi introspection, some pining, a bittersweet ending. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Here is part 2 of our Javi thought piece! This is entirely indulgent and I had a super fun time writing Javi against another person compared to him all by his lonesome. Enjoy my lovelies!

“Would you like one?” she says when Javi doesn’t answer right away, waving the pack of Marlboro Lights in her other hand. Her smile deepens from curious to knowing, clocking Javi’s eyes lighting on the end of her cigarette.

Javi can’t remember the last time he was tongue-tied in a woman’s gaze. Chalking it up to his addictive brain, he sidles up to her with a shake of his head, one palm curling around the handrail. He notices, with quiet triumph, that she sees how easily his fingers circle the painted wood. He knows they’re big, that they’re good at splaying over skin and grabbing and pleasuring, but it never hurts to be reminded. 

“Trying to quit. Doing the Nicorette thing.” Javi leans on both hands now, looking over the darkening horizon that stains the sky in purples. “But, you know, old habits,” he finishes, trying to catch a casual glimpse of her in the corner of his eye.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, and stubs out her barely smoked cigarette in a paper plate of half eaten cake. 

“Oh, no ma’am, I didn’t mean…” Javi tries to protest, and without thinking he brushes his fingers along the back of her arm. The rush is better than the nicotine, unexpected and thrilling. She chuckles, leaning on her elbows as the last vestiges of smoke wisp away.

“It’s okay, I find the company preferrable,” she says, cocking her head at him as he fights the blush tingling around the tips of his ears. There’s a smoothness to her that puts Javi off balance. He’s always good to the women in his life, but he’s not always good at getting them into his life. His flirting is seen as charming, endearing even, but mostly ineffective. But she has a way about her that lets words hit harder than they should. It makes Javi chuckle and come down to his elbows on the railing, pert bottom sticking out next to her luscious one (he checked).

“So then you’re enjoying the wedding?” he asks, lacing his fingers so they have something to do. She rolls her shoulders with a sigh.

“Well, not all company. It’s a little stifling in there,” she muses, shifting the weight on her feet. Javi peeks down to her heels, obviously uncomfortable, but necessary for the occasion. He briefly considers asking if she’d like to take them off, take a seat. He toys with the idea of taking them into his lap and putting his restless hands to work.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he finally agrees, voice dropping into a quieter rasp. He’s suddenly drained, the weight of the world he’s taken on his shoulders screaming down his spine. It would be so easy to put it down, but would he float away if it wasn’t there to hold him to the earth?

“Does it help?” she says, and Javi’s so caught up in his metaphor he has no idea what she’s asking. He stares blankly at her, eyebrows pulling into a confused furrow before she taps her cheek. “The gum. Does it help with quitting?” 

Javi’s face breaks into a sheepish smile, huffing out a laugh. He misses the glance she gives to his full lips, the way his tongue darts out to wet them, parted and supple. 

“It takes the edge off, but I’d rather have one of those,” he says, nodding to her pack. She shrugs and smiles knowingly, letting some silence stretch as her outline begins to blur into the night. Sharp edges of light from the dance hall carve out the high points of her face, the texture of her hair, the wrinkles in her shawl. Javi considers leaving for a moment, but her face is back to that quiet expression she wore before he walked up. The one he only ever sees when people don’t know they’re being watched. It intrigues him too much to part yet.

“How do you know the couple?” he asks, cringing at the small talk. She sways, shifting weight to her other foot. Javi again considers urging her to sit. He again dashes away the idea of her moaning while he presses his fingers into her arch.

“The bride. She and I knew each other growing up, fell out of touch when I moved. But I’m back in town for a few weeks helping my mom, and this is apparently the social event of the month,” she says, smiling over her shoulder at the dancing inside. Music thrumming in Javi’s chest, he chews his words as you face him again.

“So you grew up here,” he says, the ending open. She nods, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders even though the night air is still desert warm.

“Yep, been a while but there’s still lots of familiar faces,” she mulls, not meeting Javi’s eyes. His stomach sinks, slow and thick like a spoon into molasses. 

“Yeah, everyone knows everyone here,” he mumbles, and that need to run, to get out, to get on a plane and away from Laredo and all the memories it holds claws at Javi’s chest. For a moment he’d forgotten. She’d made him forget.

“I remember seeing you around town. You were handsome then, too,” she says, light flickering too softly for Javi to get a good read on her expression. Was it that same uncomfortable reverence he’s had to accept all night?

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember you,” he apologizes, fingers tapping at the handrail. She shrugs nonchalantly, and Javi thinks she might be a little closer than before.

“You wouldn’t have. I wasn’t much of a looker, or a talker, or an anything back then,” she says with a flippancy that makes Javi regret his words. 

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have noticed you,” he replies, and she rolls her eyes. God, will he ever be able to flirt like a normal person? Every attempt feels like a monumental effort met with a patronizing smile. 

“That was cute, but you don’t have to. You only had eyes for one thing.” To his surprise Javi watches her scoot closer to him, arm close to brushing his flannel-covered his bicep. 

“I suppose most people remember that too,” Javi muses, Lorraine’s sparkling eyes back in the forefront of his mind. 

“Not all that,” she counters, raising Javi’s eyebrow. When he turns to look at her he can see the fan of her eyelashes, the soft sheen of her lipstick. 

“No, you only had eyes for the road out of town,” she says, the cool honestly of it holding him as much as the candor in her gaze. She searches his face - for what Javi can’t guess - before continuing. 

“Anyone who wanted to settle down knew not to get tangled up with Javier Peña. And anyone who wanted a ticket out of town knew not to try and cash it with you.” The words pull Javi’s brows together, a familiar scowl fighting to return to his face.

“Why’s that?” he asks, though the answer matters less than the mounting desire to know how this woman could find each soft spot in his armor.

“Because these broad shoulders of yours were ready to hold the weight of the world on them, but only alone,” she says, and air leaves Javi’s lungs. Fuck. Fuck. The wave of emotions riding those words batter against Javi’s ribs. He wants to tell her she’s wrong, that he’s not so noble as all that. He wants to tell her she’s right, that he’s never been able to see himself with someone by his side. He wants to tell her to fuck off with her psychoanalysis bullshit. He wants to let her touch him with a softness reserved for skittish puppies and men long damned for their decisions. 

Her eyebrows suddenly shoot up, and Javi can almost feel the spike in her heart rate.

“I’m sorry, that was…wow, I’ve had enough to drink tonight,” she laughs nervously, pushing off the railing. With the quick reflexes of his work Javi circles her wrist, a gentle grip urging her to still. 

“No, you’re…” He struggles with the words he needs to make her stay. “...Perceptive,” is what he settles on with a sheepish tilt of his head. She covers her face with her other hand, peeking at Javi over her fingers.

“You can just say rude, I deserve that one,” she shoots back, and Javi lets out a restorative laugh, like the first pull of a cigarette without the burn on his tongue.

“No, if you want to know rude, I have plenty of stories about that,” he says, preening under her knowing gaze.

“Do tell, I’ll be the envy of the town with a few tales of our hometown DEA agent to spread around,” she shoots back, sparkle in her eyes bright enough to battle the stars. Her words pour cold water down his nape, a brief wave of nausea urging him to drop his grip, no matter how soft her skin is beneath his rougher palms. 

What could he tell of his life that wasn’t ripped through with blood and terror and questionable choices made in the dark?

“Hey.”

A soft voice winds its way up to his ears, a gentle hand resting on his arm. When he meets her eyes the glow is like candlelight in a window welcoming him home.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I hear enough of the hero talk in salons and bars. What you did in Colombia…I don’t think any of us can understand it. So they thank you and call you a hero but…it couldn’t have been easy. I hope you didn’t have to go through it alone.”

He didn’t, there were men and women who stood with him, and who fell as a consequence. And there were times when he felt more alone in a room of allies than in his apartment trying to drink himself to sleep. But he was rarely alone.

“Thank you,” is the best he can manage with her scent and her heat curling between them. She’s close enough to embrace, to bury his nose behind the hinge of her jaw and press her deep deep deep into his body, until their bodies could meld into one like so many women before her.

“There are some good stories too,” he murmurs, shoulders lifting as she smiles and backs up from him.  

“I’d like to hear them,” she says, hopping up to sit on the railing with an expectant look. Feet swinging in those high heels, Javi succumbs to his secret desire and slips them off her feet, hand curling around her ankle as his cheek comes close to brushing her knees. When he flashes her a cheeky smile showcasing his dimple he thinks he sees a flash of desire in her eyes, but it’s gone when he straightens up.

“I’ll censor some of the more colorful language.”

“You better not, Javi.”

They talk as the evening deepens, the party winding down to a few stragglers giving well wishes. Javi thinks he sees Chucho a few times, but he doesn’t come out to the back porch. 

Javi tells her about Colombia. Not everything, not the gore and gristle that would turn anyone’s stomach. Instead he tells her about the rolling hills, how green the trees look when mist surrounds them. How fresh the fruit tastes when you split it open with your thumbs. The way the air smells when the humidity is high and lovers dance in the streets. It’s the Colombia he always wanted. It’s the Colombia he barely knew. But it was the world he was willing to share with a woman who looked at him with kind eyes.

When the only sounds he can discern are the clatter of tables being cleared, Javi sighs and rests his palm on her knee, letting the heat of his hand warm her through the fabric of her dress. 

“The night seems to be ending,” he says, voice dropping into a huskier register. He’s standing close, her thigh pressed into his hip as he looks into the glint of her eyes. In the dark she is shadow and golden highlights, just enough to know she’s smiling at him. It emboldens him to slide his palm up her thigh, spreading it to cover but not squeeze. 

“Thank you for indulging me,” she says, cool fingers on the line of his jaw as he turns his head up to her. She slides them through the thick locks just above his ear, raising goosebumps along his nape. His eyes dart to her lips and back, parting his own. He’ll ask her before he leans forward. Ask her if he can kiss her before pressing his mouth to hers. He’ll savor it like this conversation, hold it on his tongue like good whiskey, come back for more if she’ll let him.

Before he can, she presses two fingers under his chin. Her expression is soft, but edged in resignation and regret.

“Are your eyes still on the road, Javi?”

The haze around the edge of his vision sharpens. 

Yes.

Laredo was never meant to be forever. Javi didn’t know if any place would be forever for him. 

Maybe a person, one day, would be forever. But not a place. 

She sees the answer, and thankfully doesn’t make him say it.

“Then this can only be a goodbye kiss,” she whispers, and when her lips come to his he accepts with the gratitude he saves for the handful of good things the world gives him. It’s sweet, sugar and smoke and chaster than he’s kissed a woman in a long time but no less dizzying. When she pulls back he fights against the desire to chase her lips, instead easing away from her and trying to hide his regret. 

It would be easier if she wasn’t right. 

“Thank you for making my night a little brighter, Javi,” she says, swiping a thumb over his lower lip to remove a trace of lipstick. He presses a kiss to it, earning another indulgent stroke in return, before she hops off the railing and gathers her shoes.

He wants to ask her name if he can have nothing else, but her smile widens over his shoulder. 

“Don Chucho!” she calls, walking over to hug the night’s worst interruption. A few words pass between them - compliments, pleasantries that rolled right past her and Javi in their conversations in the dark - before she steps away.

“My mother will be expecting me, I should be going,” she says, and with a warm smile and a squeeze to his bicep, she turns to Javi once more.

Ask her.

What could he offer her?

Ask her anyway.

Her face is content. She doesn’t offer, doesn’t assume. 

She could be what’s next.

No, she couldn’t. He knows what he has to do.

“Take care, Javi.”

“You too.”

And then she leaves.

In the dark of Chucho’s car, Javi admits to his plans. His work isn’t done, not yet. There are more wrongs to be righted, more weight to fall on Javi’s shoulders. He’ll take it. He always does.

He is not a hero, but he can do the work of one for a while longer.

The drive home with her mother is quiet, both tired from the dancing and the drinks and the long conversations held in very different locales. 

“I saw you talking to the Peña boy,” her mother says with curiosity. She scoffs, wiggling her sore toes against the rubber floor mat.

“Two ships passing in the night, mama,” she answers. Her mother shrugs, eyes on the road as they head home. A welcome distraction, a few titillating moments. A kiss that birthed butterflies. But that’s all it would be for them. Javi’s reputation follows him like a shadow, and not just the history he left behind in Laredo. An idiot could see how much Escobar took out of him. He deserves a new path that could be kinder to him. 

Besides, her eyes are on the road as well. A new job in Bogotá, one she was reluctant to take, but after the words Javi wove into the night it felt right. Despite her mama’s worries and her own reservations, it took someone who must have seen hell there to finally convince her. 

The days to her departure were shortening, no time for a fling with a beautiful but troubled man. But for a night it was thrilling to pretend they could be each other’s comfort. 

“Help me finish the painting tomorrow?”

“Of course mama.”

A few more days home.

Then a new chapter in a place where the trees blink like emeralds in the distance, the citrus bursts when you bite into it, and the sticky heat of the night makes her think of him and wonder what battles he may be fighting now.

END || PREVIOUS

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Scrappy Huntress

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, and The Scrappy Huntress. 😉

Summary: The Winchesters might end up with a new member of Team Free Will.

Warnings: None. Only fluff. Figurative and literal fluff. Very brief mentions of blood.

Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: So, I've been struggling with my mental health a bit lately and I've been having a hard time finding inspiration to write my next chapters for my series.

So, chatting with my daughter, I told her I wanted to write something super fluffy for Dean and she suggested Dean and a kitten, and this idea grew almost immediately, so I wrote it.

Hoping that getting out smaller drabbles like this will kick start inspiration! I'm sorry to those waiting for chapter updates!! They're coming, I promise. ❤️

The beautiful dividers here and below were created by @talesmaniac89 . 💓

Masterlist || Tag Lists

"Just leave it, Sam! If you pay attention to it, it's never gonna go away." Dean scowled down at his giant baby brother, who'd compressed his massive 6'4 frame down into a crouch in order to pet the scrawny kitten that had taken up residence just outside their motel room door.

Sam shook his head and looked up at Dean. "It's been outside since we got here yesterday, Dean. I don't think it's being fed. It's obviously a stray, let me bring him in and give him a bit of food and water."

"No!" Dean said vehemently. "I know you, Sammy. You bring that damn thing in, and before you know it, we'll be putting up lost posters and spending the next week searching for owners."

Sam just let his eyes plead for him and Dean was quickly outdone by a skinny black cat and big puppy dog eyes.

"Ugh!" He growled angrily. "Fine, bring it in, give it some milk, then back out it goes."

Sam scooped up the kitten quickly before Dean could change his mind and walked into their motel room.

"Most cats are lactose intolerant, milk might upset his stomach," he argued.

"How do you know it's a he?" Dean asked as he followed Sam into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Huh." Sam said, contemplating. "I don't actually know."

He turned the kitten upside down to check and the fluffy feline let out several long mewls at the undignified treatment.

"I was wrong, it's a girl." Sam corrected himself. Turning the kitten right side up, he scratched her ears for a moment as compensation for his rude behavior.

"Who's a pretty little girl?" He questioned nonsensically as he nuzzled her soft fur.

Dean rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed, leaning his shoulders against the headboard, still dressed in his big brown leather coat and boots.

"Feed her and put her back outside so we can get back to figuring out why two perfectly healthy men have dropped dead out of nowhere in this town in the last week. I'd like to finish up and get back to my very comfortable bed."

He slapped his hand down against the lumpy motel mattress aware that he'd gone soft ever since they'd found the bunker a few years ago.

"You know, I was thinking..." Sam began and Dean rolled his eyes.

"No." He answered curtly.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" Sam protested.

But Dean was already shaking his head. "I know exactly what you were going to say, and there's absolutely no way we're taking that flea infested thing home with us."

"She's not flea-infested." Sam defended her. "And she could make sure we don't see any more mice scurrying down our hallways."

"No, instead we'd just see a little runt kitten running around that we'd have to feed and take care of. We're not exactly home-bodies, Sam. Who'd look after the thing when we're on the road?" He shook his head again. "We're not taking it home."

Sam pouted slightly. "She's a 'she' not an it."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So if SHE can't drink milk, what are you going to feed her with?"

"I'm gonna run over to that little corner store down the street. They probably have cans of cat food." Sam answered as he brought the kitten over to Dean.

Sam tried to pass the kitten to him, but Dean held his hands up, palms out. "No way, I'm not holding that thing, it's gonna pee on me, or scratch the shit outta me."

"SHE is not going to pee on you, and dude, are you telling me you're seriously afraid of the world's tiniest claws? Man, you fight werewolves!" Sam said, incredulously.

Dean frowned and lowered his hands allowing Sam to set the tiny ball of fluff there.

"Yeah, well I shoot werewolves. You telling me I can silver-bullet her if she starts scratching?"

Sam shot him a look and Dean huffed out a sigh. "Kidding, kidding. Sheesh."

"I'll be fifteen minutes, tops. I bet you can keep her from attacking til I'm back." Sam said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean said waving his brother out the door.

As the door closed behind Sam, Dean looked over the tiny black cotton ball that he had gripped in his hand.

He adjusted the kitten slightly, not wanting to squeeze too hard. He could feel it's tiny little ribs beneath his fingers, and it's heartbeat slamming fast against them.

Dean's face softened slightly. "Its okay, I won't really shoot you, promise." He said quietly.

He readjusted again so the kitten could sit fully in his palm, and he could hold it in place with his other hand.

"Man, you really are a runty little thing, aren't you?"

The kitten blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. "I thought cats had green eyes." Dean said out loud, unable to stop the compulsion to rub his thumb over the cat's tiny head.

As he did, a sudden rumbling purr started up and when Dean petted her again, the kitten chased his thumb, rubbing up against it and then nibbling on the end.

Dean snorted with humor as she rolled onto her back in his hand, batting at his fingers with all four feet.

"Ooh, you're a scrapper." He moved his fingers forward to pet her black and white speckled belly and chuckled in spite of himself as she spread her four paws wide before closing them tight around his hand and "attacking".

He ferocious bites turned quickly into licks, her rough tongue scraping across his callused fingers. She let him pet her belly for real, and soon she was purring very loudly and falling asleep on her back, outstretched in his hand.

Dean continued to stroke her belly and found himself relaxing deeply as he listened to the, soothing rumble coming out of the tiny little creature.

He held her like that until Sam came back with the cat food and woke her up so she could eat and drink.

The brothers chuckled together as the kitten scarfed the wet food, emitting endless "threatening" growls while she ate.

When she was finished, Dean merely rolled his eyes as Sam pulled out the small tray and bag of litter he'd bought, "just in case" Dean agreed to let the kitten stay in the room over night.

"It looks like it's gonna rain, she'll drown out there." Sam reasoned. "Look, we'll keep her safe tonight and then bring her to an animal shelter tomorrow, okay?"

Dean was still frowning, although both of them knew he was going to let the kitten stay.

"Fine." He said with a sigh.

They spent a couple hours working on the case. They thought maybe they were hunting down a crossroads demon, collecting early on demon deals, but they needed more info. They just knew both victims had been newly wealthy and died very suddenly under strange circumstances.

As they looked things over, they were occasionally distracted by the little furball tearing around the room, attacking their shoelaces and puffing up to hiss at the "other cat" in the floor length mirror that hung on the outside of the bathroom door.

Despite his reluctance to encourage his brother, Dean couldn't help but laugh when the kitten's fur stood on end, and she arched her back, jumping sideways and then bouncing around on her back legs.

Finally deciding to call it a night, the boys took their turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Dean called dibs and bounded in there before Sam could complain that two grown men shouldn't be relying on dibs to decide things.

When it was Sam's turn he decided to jump in the shower, taking a bit longer, since there was no one waiting on him. Going second had its perks.

When he finally came out, clicking the bathroom light off, he chuckled softly to himself at the picture in front of him.

Dean was sprawled out on his stomach, lightly snoring. One knee was bent, and his arms were wrapped around the pillow he was laying his head on. Curled up in the crook of his elbow, the little kitten was fast asleep as well, no doubt enjoying the warmth of the soft breaths Dean was emitting.

Sam shook his head. He knew Dean would cave, they were definitely taking that little fluff ball home with them.

***

Hours later Dean woke up to the sound of loud scratching and he moaned and buried his face further into his pillow.

"Sam, make that stupid cat stop scratching!" He mumbled out sleepily to his brother. There was no response and the scratching continued.

Finally he sat up, angrily turning to Sam, planning on waking him from his comfortable sleep and forcing him to deal with the misbehaving kitten.

But as he looked over at his brother's bed, his blood ran cold. Sam lay, seemingly paralyzed, his eyes the only part of him that was moving, shooting around the room, panic-stricken while blood seeped from his nose and mouth.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out as he leapt from his bed. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shook him uselessly before jumping up, throwing on the lights and starting to search for a hex bag; this had to be witchcraft.

As he started looking through all the cupboards and under the bed, he began to feel himself stumble. It felt as though all his muscles were stiffening up and he crashed to the floor, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

He looked over to where the kitten was still scratching at the cheap wood paneling in the room. He tried to pull himself over, but he felt his arms become wooden and he couldn't move.

All he could do was watch as the kitten scratched a hole in the worn paneling, and batted at something inside. With a growing sense of disbelief, Dean blinked slowly as she snagged her claw in the top of a hex bag and then tossed it into the air as she shook it free of her claw.

She then pounced on it, batting it back and forth. Finally she attacked it fully, wrapping it up in her paws and kicking it hard with her back feet.

As she gave a particularly hard kick, the bag tore open and the contents spilled out.

Suddenly the sensation zoomed back into Dean's arms and legs and he coughed up and spit out the last of the blood that was in his mouth. He crawled quickly to the hole and pulled out a second hex bag, whipping out his lighter and burning it. He stood up and tossed the burning pouch into the bathroom sink as he heard Sam coughing and shifting around in his bed.

Dean leaned against the bathroom doorframe, sagging slightly, his muscles still a bit weak.

"You good, Sammy?"

Sam nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Dean wiped away the blood that had dribbled down his chin, watching as the kitten batted at some of the bones that had spilled out of the hex bag, seemingly disappointed that her fun toy had popped.

He shook his head and turned to Sam with a grin. "Told you taking that kitten in was a good idea."

***

Late the next night, they were getting ready to head out. They'd dispatched a mother-daughter witch team that had been grifting rich guys and taking all their money before slipping them a hex bag and a slow death. Apparently they'd figured out there were hunters in town and decided to do away with them the same way.

As they packed up the room, Sam scooped up the kitten. They'd been too busy all day to get her to a shelter, so she'd just stayed in the room and had seemed to make herself very at home.

Sam set her down on Dean's bed and she bounced over to his green duffle bag and climbed inside. As Dean turned back to shove in another pair of jeans, she circled around two or three times before snuggling into one of his plaid flannels, half tucking herself into the pocket.

Dean let out a sigh and carefully tucked the jeans in beside her.

"So..." Sam prompted. "Shelter?"

Dean shot him an unimpressed look. "You know I'm not sending the cat that saved our lives to a..." he lowered his voice to a whisper, "...an uncertain future."

He let out a put upon sigh. "Nah, this scrappy little huntress is just coming home with us I guess."

Sam beamed. "But what about when we're away?"

Dean shrugged into his leather jacket and carefully picked up the sleeping kitten before he answered.

"Well, who knows, maybe she'll like car rides. I'll make her cozy and see what she thinks." With that he tucked her into one of the upper, inside pockets of his thick jacket.

She let out a small mewl. "Whatcha think, Huntress?" Dean asked, petting her head and smiling as she yawned and then nibbled his finger.

"She says she's a badass panther, and she's good."

Sam chuckled. "Does she?"

Dean nodded as he shouldered his duffle bag, careful not to jostle the sleeping kitten in his pocket.

"Yep, and when we can't take her with us, Cas can cat-sit."

1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

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