#where one can wonder if these people had hearts

[jesteriajunovix]

I really love this post.

Talking about the implicit harms and toxicity within this Era of Internet Fandom fucking bangs.

There are so many layers of non-indulgence on the part of fans that create this "death of the author" bubble where the themes are melted into the shape of varying crude enigmatic desires.

It's very bizarre the scale of how much of it potentially isn't just ignorance, but a choice to ignore implication too. A very harmful thought that seems to be able to come from all forms of identities & fandom is the idea "I need this".

I need them to be gay, (Fujo Territory, and Toxic BL or GL)

I need them to be white, (White)

I need them to be in pain,

(sensationalized feeling externalized via the art of a character without thought of the contextual reality of what the art may represent to others. [Drawing young characters being bloodied, centering ones venting around depicting a character of another race being tormented, or further brutalizing a character tastelessly.]

and so on.

This idea of needing these characters in these ways and these ways showing themselves to be in demand for a fair share of a fandom's population genuinely is several studies and conversations to be had.

I say this with the intention of not coming off as pessimistic, but I do wonder if there will ever be a time when mediums, and media placed in this category of digital entertainment will be something communally more mature on a broader scale as the people who care about what other generations have deemed as "time wasting" art become more important in facilitating the safe spaces and environments in which this art is discussed and held.

Digital Communal Responsibility. Stronger Social Contracts.

There are so many social issues to worry about before we can really even consider getting there, but I have hope in my heart we will somehow.

It's too easy to ignore the task of actually indulging the meaning of art. Such a growing form of stagnation is so dangerous.

------------------------------------------------------------

Thematic Questions

do you know what your reaction to the media you consume means within the reality of your identity as it intersects with others?

Where do you think an artist's artistic intent comes from?

did it come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

how might your headcanon relatively align or contradict the health state of their art?

does your headcanon come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

Is the way you indulge art amongst fandom and community healthy?

how & why?

This isn't a "put a shirt on" thing. Do your conclusions feel right to you? I can only ask that you explore that for yourself as your ideas surrounding art grow alongside you as a person.......

again SUPER good post from zzxid. They constructed such a good point in such a good way and I appreciate people who can use words like this.

I genuinely think Mouthwashing fandom is a good example on how real life misogyny is very wired on people brains and influenced how they engage with fictional misogyny.

You have a story about a woman being assaulted and telling a man he trusted but being dismissed because he is friends with the attacker, and people fixate on shipping her with either of those me.

You have a story about how men that downplay their male friends violence, assume neutrality is the safer option, unintentionally help create an environment that's unsafe to vulnerable people, at a risk becoming a victim themselves. And people make it about toxic yaoi.

You have a character kill herself because she didn't want birth the child of her abuser. And people make AUs where she happily keep the baby.

Misogyny isn't just "I hate this women", it's also downplaying their trauma, defending those who caused it, and reducing them to mothers or wives against their wished under this idea of what womanhood is about.

I don't think we can separate fandom misogyny from it's real world influence, not yet.

[hwaightme]

03:10 AM

(masterlist)

🌃pairing: bf!seonghwa x gn!reader 🌃genre: timestamp, comfort, healing, fluff 🌃summary: 3am, a time for overthinking. is love louder than your thoughts? 🌃wordcount: 1k 🌃warnings/tags: unedited, introspection, lack of confidence, two people in love, kissing, cute sleepy seonghwa, writer is rusty 🌃taglist: at the bottom. would love to add you if interested <3 🌃a/n: oh how i wish to write again, to pour words onto pages and let my heart bleed into the ink. this timestamp is mildly inspired by maro's 'we've been loving in silence'. sorry for rustiness, and any love is so appreciated...

Everyone is deserving of love. Love in all its shapes and colours. A love that looks like a tender conversation in a tiny kitchen, a love that looks like unstoppable laughter under the starry night sky, a love that looks like unwavering dedication and adoration even when it seems impossible. Every person is worthy of a love that makes their heart feel full while being fully aware of the world and all its complexities, shadows and anguish. A love that gives one hope.

Sometimes, this complicated feeling looks like speeding down the city streets as a salvation in the time of trouble. It could even look like a distraught, disjointed embrace accompanied by a cacophony of sobs and stuttered breaths. Love can look like feeling another’s pain, living through it as if it is one’s own. Love can mean heartbreak, over and over again until there is seemingly nothing left, and yet still the ground up powder of affection would be offered as a sacrifice to this mystery.

What is love to you?

You wonder, particularly on nights like this, when a blanket of calm covers the metropolis in which you found yourself, not too dissimilar to a shell being washed up on the shore to encounter a glorious, blazing sun. A twinkling magic on the other side of the glass greets you, and you rest a finger on the coolness, tracing distant shapes of building after building, only to haphazardly wipe it down with the edge of your sleeve. How did you end up in a place where you thought you would never be, feeling what you had sworn you would be unable to feel? 

A gentle melancholy aches in your chest, etching the curves and edges of your ribcage, an incessant little bird, bubbling up that old sense of unease. What is this that you are living in? If you do not know, will it go away? The loud mind, an old friend and enemy, one which had accompanied you through all stages of your life, to find itself equally as bewildered as your heart, but a lot more terrified. Caught between bliss and a painful awareness of the unknown, you walk a tightrope blindfolded.

At least until a hand reaches out for you, warm, reassuring, and guides you across to an oasis. A beating heart, a familiar breath, palm pressed against your upper arm take you out of your spiralling musings, and beckon you to look in the direction of a soft, barely audible whisper of ‘my love’. 

You turn to meet Seonghwa’s eyes, endless pools of glistening brown sugar, enough to both extinguish and ignite, turn dark to light and wrong to right. A timeless poetry is in his face, the rhythm of his features casting a spell over you as you glance over them. These sleepy eyes, stunning nose and cheeks that bear a pinkish hue, plush lips caught in a miniscule pout, dishevelled hair that you know your boyfriend tried to tame, to no avail. You turn your body to meet him fully, and fall into his arms. They envelop you tightly, and you inhale the ghostly remnants of his cologne, a tantalising note of his, and your favourite shampoo, all intricately blended with fabric softener and cotton - put simply, you are home.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, hm?” he asks, voice still a little raspy. It must have been only minutes since he woke up to find you.

“I’m sorry… Did I wake you?”

“Mm… no. Your absence woke me up,” you could cry, not that you would say it, or rather have to say it. Seonghwa knows how his words affect you anyways, judging by the swift squeeze of his arms before he returns to slowly rocking side to side. 

“I just had a lot of thoughts. Wanted to get rid of them somehow.”

“Want to talk about them?” 

You are not sure if you would be able to summon enough courage to talk about what is plaguing you, at least now, in the semi-darkness of yours and his apartment, you feel far too fragile to look inside of the boxes you keep shuffling. Unbeknownst to yourself, you begin to bite your lower lip, trying to pick the right words. Any attempt to formulate whatever excuse you have been seeking inevitably fails as Seonghwa’s lips find yours, erasing your habit, erasing your worry. Caught off-guard, a quiet gasp escapes you, only to be rewarded by an airy chuckle.

“So… not talking, then?” you press your face into the crook of his neck, sensing heat rising on your cheeks. 

“You surprised me, is all…” you trail off, slowly guiding yourself upwards, but still being unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

“I’ll happily kiss all your worries away, if that’s what it takes,” his tone is humorous, and the phrase is light-hearted. His glances into your eyes, at your lips, at the strands of hair that you know he will adjust for you like he usually does, holding promise and commitment. If you so wish, he will. If you so want, he will. If you so will, he most definitely will. 

Your hands grip onto his sleeping shirt as you mumble a thanks, inching closer until your timid smile melts into his. A pleasantly languid rhythm, a moonlit paradise, drawing a masterpiece with your bodies until you are struggling to breathe. An adorable exchange of sweet nothings as you fill your lungs with air, no distinction of space nor time while you are in this trouble-less duet. A small peck on Seonghwa’s lips prompts him to pull you in again, eyes fluttering shut as he floats, flies, soars in love with you. You swear you can see the stars while the taste of his cherry lip balm lingers.

As you follow him back to bed, sinking into the sheets with a sigh, inklings of somnolence settle over your slow-moving intertwined bodies. His breath turns steady, a comforting rise and fall against your back. Seonghwa’s hand is over yours, thumb making random patterns on your skin.

“Dream of me,” he says against your shoulder, grinning when he hears your sharp exhale.

This, this is love to you.

🌃taglist: @shakalakaboomboo @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @marsstarxhwa @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Mother's Secret and the Witches' Road"

Agatha x Rio x Child!Reader

Summary: Agatha raised you well she took you everywhere she goes, sometimes making you do things to lure witches to her, but a question that's been bugging you makes you ask her - Chapter II

Chapter I

Chapter III

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The forest was hushed as dusk settled over the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. Agatha held her child’s small hand in hers, guiding them along the winding path through the dense woods. The child—now nearly eight years old—looked up at her with curiosity, their eyes reflecting both trust and the flickering embers of questions.

“Mama,” they asked softly, tilting their head up to her, “why do you… take the magic from the witches we meet?”

Agatha’s heart ached as she looked down at them. She knelt to their level, brushing a leaf from their shoulder, trying to find the words that would protect their innocence while keeping the truth veiled. “Some things in life, my love, are not easy to explain,” she began gently. “There are moments when we must do difficult things to keep safe those we hold dear.”

The child’s brow furrowed, their young mind working to make sense of her words. “But… what do they do that makes you need to stop them?”

Agatha sighed, brushing a stray curl from their face. “The witches we encounter,” she said slowly, “have chosen to use their power in ways that can harm others. They carry magic that, if left unchecked, could bring harm to the people around them. So sometimes, I have to step in and… take that power away.”

The child seemed to consider this, their small hand tightening around hers. “And if you didn’t, would they… would they hurt us?”

Agatha’s breath hitched slightly, but she kept her voice calm. “I do this so they can’t hurt anyone—including us, my love. It’s my way of making sure we’re safe.”

The child nodded slowly, though Agatha could sense the unspoken questions lingering in their gaze. They didn’t yet need to know the true reason she drained these witches—to keep Rio, their other mother, at bay. She knew that one day she’d have to explain the full story, but for now, she could still protect them from that burden.

“Come on, my little one,” she murmured, standing and taking their hand once more. “Let’s head back before the night gets too dark.”

They walked hand in hand along the winding path, the silence of the forest wrapped around them like a heavy cloak. After a moment, Agatha began to hum softly, a familiar tune that seemed to carry through the trees, filling the space between them with something warm and comforting.

Recognizing the melody, the child’s face brightened. It was their song—the “Witches' Road” ballad they had made up together, a tune woven from whispered secrets, dreams, and countless nights spent by the fire. Without missing a beat, they began to hum along, their small voice joining hers.

Agatha smiled, squeezing their hand as she continued to sing, her voice gentle yet filled with an ancient, bittersweet strength.

“On the witches’ road, we go, we go,

Through the woods where shadows grow.

With whispered words and secrets old,

The witches’ road we follow bold…”

Their voices mingled, carrying through the stillness of the forest. Agatha could feel the weight of the song deep within her, each note a reminder of her vow to protect this child—her child—from the dangers lurking in the dark.

The child’s voice grew a little stronger, the words they had crafted together filling the air with an innocent wonder.

“Through moonlit nights and dawns of gray,

We walk the path that leads away.

And though the shadows try to stay,

The witches’ road will guide our way…”

Agatha watched her child as they sang, her heart swelling with pride and love. Despite the shadow that loomed over them, they had somehow found a way to fill their life with light, with hope, with songs and stories that bound them together.

They reached the last verse, and Agatha’s voice softened, carrying a tenderness that echoed in the child’s bright gaze.

“The witches’ road will lead us home,

No matter where our feet may roam.

And though the night may seem unknown,

The witches’ road will bring us home…”

The child looked up at her with a small, content smile, their voice trailing off as the song came to an end. Agatha felt a tear prick her eye, quickly brushing it away before the child noticed. She knelt down once more, her hands gently cupping their face, her voice a tender murmur.

“You are my light, my love,” she whispered, a fierce promise woven into her words. “No matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

The child reached up, placing their small hand over hers. “I trust you, Mama,” they replied softly, their eyes shining with innocent faith.

Agatha pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead, feeling both the weight and the beauty of their trust. And as they turned back toward their hidden haven in the forest, Agatha couldn’t help but sing the melody once more under her breath, knowing that as long as she could keep Rio busy on her path, she would continue walking this road with her child—protected, safe, and bound by the song they had created together.

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

A/n: shall I make it longer?👀 How's the fic any suggestions? Comment or you can ask me?

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

I always feel pretty dumpy after getting dumped. Tonight was no different. I decided to walk the grounds one last time, and the tranquil beauty of the gardens seemed extra mean somehow. Like I was walking through something beautiful that I never even got a chance to miss. No chance to enjoy. Just rejection. Again. And the same message, though at least this time they tried to be kind about it.

Please never practice magic like that again. Bards were mages until you were too good at singing. Then things got suspicious to the headmasters. Song could be such a powerful tool and manipulate people across the field the way that death could. Put death and song together and humans always got so uncomfortable. And when it came to humans, nothing was more unlucky than a sweet death. They say the way they want to die is old and in bed surrounded by their families but...it's never true. Every single one of them secretly yearns for some kind of glory in their hearts, and it just rots and rots and rots as they age. I'd know. I'm human too. But I'm also banshee and people can just feel it. Especially those who are academically inclined. In some cultures they saw us as prophets... until they learned that the angels sing in our ears and fall out of our throats. Also people only like the idea of prophets. Tell them enough future truth and they start looking for the matches and rope. Or a crucifix.

Bewitchment. Enchantment. Manipulation. No one wants to invite a banshee to the table where everyone is sweet and happy and alive with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes.

I'm an omen. It's kind of lonely. But I get it. I suppose if I were someone else I'd feel the same.

I found myself in a gazebo near the tallest of the little sculpted waterfalls in this garden. I liked the way the water sang and flowed as it poured itself over the rocks. It was summer, so there were fireflies, and I could get back to being lost in my thoughts a bit as I watched the way they all twinkled around each other. My son used to say they were all teleporting. I laughed at him, kissed the top of his head, and earmarked that for later because that might be something he ends up being keen at. My daughter used to say she had the power of the forest when she was very young, and gods if she couldn't tell you exactly what creatures were thinking when they wanted something. The more specific the better with my daughter.

I shifted, crossing my legs over each other and anchoring my elbows on the wooden railing and letting my chin fall heavily into my palms. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, trying to catch and understand the direction and pattern to the way the wind blew tonight. The air smelled like roses and jasmine and I looked up to see the little white flowers hanging from their vines right above me. There were lanterns of golden light and everything felt smoky and indigo. A moonlit darkness that was so easy to see around but too misty to see through.

Was it the song, I wondered? I replayed the interview in my mind. I've been learning how to perform on a stage and have gotten to this point where I fall fully into the music. I don't let my mind control the song anymore, but trust my heart to attune and express it authentically. Sometimes my heart sounds drunk or bitter. Sometimes it sounds like delight and perfection. Today... I couldn't remember. I'd found that I could trick people into thinking maybe I was some sort of reformed cleric turned bard if I sang religious songs. Today I considered a shanty because those work too. But in the end I settled on a lullaby and at first everyone looked peaceful and happy but then that look came into their eyes when they realized where they were and what was going on.

Someone told me once that it was frightening to find yourself suddenly disarmed, especially if being vulnerable wasn't something you were used to being with people. I saw that happen in real time today, and suddenly understood what he meant.

Yay, more awareness.

That brought a bit of temper to my system so I stood up and walked over to the stream to sit down. The grass was wet but I didn't care. I took off my shoes and put them into the water that ran clear and cold over a stone bottom. It was deep enough to cover my ankles. I put my palms to the earth behind me, took a deep breath, and let my head fall back as I sighed it out.

I was so fucking disappointed.

But, I'd still done it. I took the chance. I learned something. All of it sucked. I'd maybe built a few sandcastles in my mind about how my life would fit into the routine that school would have brought me. I let myself sit and grieve what was never mine but still felt lost to me. I imagined the tide of this rejection crushing all the sandcastles in one giant wave. I felt my emotions rise out of my heart, making my throat sore, took another deep breath, and sighed as I let the tears release the sadness and flow down my cheeks like the current at my feet.

Fuck, I really really wanted something else to happen. I wanted the outcome I wanted. And I didn't want any other outcome. I didn't want to go to another school. I didn't want to look at other schools. I didn't want to be a bard if I couldn't go to this school. I didn't want anything.

My body shook with a little sob as my shoulders slumped back.

I didn't want anything ever again and-

Suddenly I was laughing, and I just collapsed. I laughed and cried at the same time and rolled around in the grass. If I was going to be a fucking child like this about this I was going to commit and be a child. My heart was broken a little bit and the grass was so wet and awful but it smelled so good. I closed my eyes and cursed as I realized my hair was going to be wet now that I did this and...

There was a cough and a "Ma'am?"

I froze like a rabbit. Then I closed my eyes tighter just in case this was a dream and I could escape the inevitable embarrassment of someone from the school that rejected me seeing me rolling around in the grass like an animal. The moments clicked by awkwardly and I didn't cut to the next scene, so I opened my eyes to face the music.

Security guard. Handsome. I always liked a man in uniform. Flirting was not going to help me escape embarrassment but it could make this story more interesting. As though he were reading my mind, his face darkened with an expression that read plainly don't even try it. Great, a challenge. The only thing I can't resist. His arms crossed as we both seemed to take in each other's character in this particular moment. He scowled deeper.

I sat up like a naughty child and patted at my hair, then shook it out like a dog would. He was watching closely. My head tilted to the side and I beamed angelically. "Sorry, you caught me making grass angels," I chirped merrily.

In order to be admitted to a magic school potential students only need to provide irrefutable proof that they are mages, yet, despite your very obvious abilities, you were rejected with a comment asking you to "please never practice magic again".

[seneon]

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[unboundprompts]

hey! i was wondering if you had any advice for writing a "bully" tough guy character with a hidden heart of gold that will be redeemed later on in the story? i wanted to have their motivation being seeing their bullying as making people stronger (for maybe a reason like from being bullied for being weak themselves) but idk how i would begin to write this

How to Write a Bully with Opportunity for a Redemption

Establish a Compelling Backstory

Bullying History: Flesh out the character's past. Perhaps they were bullied themselves, leading them to believe that by bullying others, they can instill strength and resilience. This creates a cycle of pain that they think they're breaking.

Family Dynamics: Consider their family situation. Maybe they have a tough home life that forces them to adopt a hard exterior, believing vulnerability is a weakness.

Defensive Mechanism: Make it clear that their bullying is a defense mechanism. They may fear being seen as weak or unworthy, so they project toughness to avoid being hurt again.

Create Layers of Personality

Contradictions: Show moments where the tough guy’s softer side shines through, such as helping someone in a subtle way or expressing empathy toward a friend. This builds intrigue and hints at their hidden depth.

Hobbies or Interests: Give them a passion that contrasts with their tough exterior, such as caring for animals, art, or even an interest in literature. This helps humanize them and shows they have more to offer than just their bullying behavior.

Develop Strong Relationships

Friendships: Explore the dynamics of their friendships. Do they have a best friend who sees through their tough exterior? This friend can be a source of support and also push the character toward redemption.

Conflict with Others: Show how their bullying impacts their relationships with other characters. This can create tension and give other characters a reason to want them to change.

Establish Their Motivation for Bullying

Internal Monologue: Use the bully’s thoughts to explain their perspective. Allow them to rationalize their behavior with phrases like “I’m just toughening them up” or “They’ll thank me later.” This internal justification provides insight into their mindset and shows that they genuinely believe in their method.

Dialogue with Others: Show conversations where the bully explains their philosophy to friends or peers. They might say something like, “You have to be tough to survive. I’m just giving them a reality check,” or “Weakness only gets you hurt.” This can illustrate their conviction that they’re helping rather than harming.

Interactions with Victims: When the bully interacts with their victims, allow moments where they express a twisted sense of encouragement. For instance, they might say something like, “You’ll thank me when you’re stronger,” or give unsolicited advice on how to handle being bullied, further solidifying their misguided belief.

In-Scene Justification: As the bully corners a victim, they might say, “You think this is tough? You should’ve seen what I went through. I’m making you stronger. You’ll thank me when you can stand up to people like me.”

Aftermath Reflection: After an intense encounter, the bully reflects, “Maybe I pushed them too hard. But if they break now, they’ll never survive out there. I can’t let them be weak.”

Confrontation with a Mentor: In a scene with a mentor or friend, the bully might insist, “I’m not a bad guy. I’m doing this for them. They need to be ready for the real world. They’ll understand one day.”

Build Moments of Realization

Catalyst for Change: Identify key moments that can serve as turning points for the character. Perhaps they witness the consequences of their actions firsthand, such as a target of their bullying breaking down.

Moment of Kindness: Have them perform a small act of kindness that contradicts their tough persona. This could be something like defending someone who’s being bullied or comforting a classmate in distress.

Craft a Redemption Arc

Struggle with Self-Perception: As they start to recognize their wrongs, explore their internal conflict. They might grapple with feelings of guilt or shame, unsure how to change.

Facing the Consequences: Introduce scenarios where they face the repercussions of their past actions. This can lead to a moment of humility, where they apologize or make amends.

Support from Others: Allow other characters to help guide their transformation. Perhaps someone who was bullied approaches them and expresses that they see potential in them, encouraging a new path.

Highlight the Heart of Gold

Acts of Courage: In the climax, have them step up to protect those they’ve bullied, showcasing their newfound understanding of strength and vulnerability.

Positive Impact: Illustrate how their change positively affects others. This can be through friendships, mentorships, or even inspiring other characters to change as well.

End on a Hopeful Note

New Identity: Conclude the character's arc by showing them embracing their softer side while still retaining the tough-guy persona, proving that they can be both strong and kind.

Forgiveness: Allow for forgiveness from those they’ve wronged, reinforcing the theme of redemption and growth.

Example Character Arc:

Initial Setup: Jake is known as the school’s tough guy, bullying anyone he deems weak, believing it will make them stronger.

Backstory Reveal: Through flashbacks, we see Jake bullied mercilessly for being small and weak, leading him to adopt his aggressive persona.

Turning Point: After witnessing the severe impact of his bullying on a classmate, Jake begins to reflect on his actions.

Redemption Moment: In a climactic scene, Jake defends the same classmate from a new bully, proving he’s changed.

Resolution: By the end, he’s mentoring younger students, using his experiences to help others find their strength rather than tear them down.

[kizzer55555]

Alternative idea. They are chasing Danny ‘the betrayer’ down and as they follow the leads and clues and leftovers of where he’s been, they start slowly piecing together the mystery of who Danny is and why he’s doing this. And they find out just how deep the betrayal went. Because it was the Justice league that made the first move.

They finally catch up with him and he’s decoding something and he just snaps at them to leave him alone. He’s cold, not even acknowledging at them, this is nothing like the Danny they knew. They try to talk to him and when that doesn't work it breaks out into a battle. But Danny knows all their moves and weaknesses and they don’t know the first thing about his limits. He’s ruthless and efficient, not showing the barest hint of emotion on his face like this battle against his ‘friends’ means nothing to him. He doesn’t even have to reveal his powers. And once they are all completly immobile he whispers “I never wanted to hurt you.” Someone scoffs. “You have a funny way of showing that.” Danny rolls his eyes. “It’s your own fault. You really should have seen this coming.”

“Oh really?” A hero speaks, venom dripping with every word. “Is it really that easy to betray your friends? To betray the ones you trust?”

Danny just laughs without any emotion behind it. “Trust? Nah, I never trusted you. Let me tell you something, when my home town was invaded, we called the Justice league. But they never came. When we were besieged every. Single. Day. By monsters and demons and entitled government agents that had no regard for casualties, they never came. Do you know what it’s like? To always have to look at the sky in case something comes down a snatch you? To hide behind a trash can or alley wall and pray that skin peeling cyborg will pass you by? To be scared of the very food you eat wondering if it was poisoned or the meat was going to attack you? To wake up realize no one is moving and wonder if your friends and family will ever wake up again? We called over and over but they never came. So we had to find our own way to fight back. We had to build weapons to protect ourselves and our children. We had to fight tooth and nail just to make it to tommorow and finally, finally we figured out a system. We managed to push them back enough to breathe. And it was only then that your people arrived.

You abandoned my town to face their death. You took me from my home. You locked up my family and tortured them.” By now, Danny was screaming and crying. His eyes looked absolutely devastated. “How…can you possibly ask me to trust you after that?”

Danny doesn’t even explain himself and his reasoning. That’s how little he thinks of the heroes. He doesn’t care if what they think he’s doing is right or wrong or if it’s justified. Some think he’s doing some sort of master plan to take over the world rather than just rescuing his parents which makes even more devastating to them when they find out what he’s actually doing.

It’s a race against time and by the end, Waller launches a strike against the heroes and it ends up being Danny that built a counter solution to the anti super weapons. He still doesn’t care about them but he was a protector at heart. He always will be. He just didn’t need someone’s ‘permission’ to do so. When he finally frees his parents (possibly dragging in the help of his classmates for a break out) they stand and Waller says that they’ve lost as they are surrounded, no weapons, and all the heroes/former villains powerless because of machines specifically designed against them. And that’ when Danny looks her right in the eyes and says that there’s one thing he forgot to mention.

He has powers too.

Danny held up a large sign from the background like a man at an airport as thier leader, Robin, gave his report to this "Justice League". The first sign said, "Help! I'm surrounded by daddy issues!" Earning a laugh from someone off camera. He then pulled the next card out from behind the first one.

"Can you send air fresheners? It smells like teen angst in here"

This one got a cackle from someone on the Justice League side of things. Score. No one here really wants to laugh. They're all edgelords and Danny is suffering. He didn't really want to be here, but things in Amity had ended in a way he never expected.

Both he and his parents had been arrested.

Not by his worlds government, mind you, but by the government of another Earth. This Earth that he was currently on to be more accurate. Who knew that so much of the stuff he and his parents had been doing was super illegal and wouldn't ya know it? He was in the middle of doing something really sketchy looking in his parents lab when the feds busted in.

Thankfully, the Justice League presented him with a deal: they take him out of Juvie and the reformation program he was in, and in return, he joins a team of former teen/child villains and anti-heros.

Figuring he had nothing to lose at this point he agreed.

He was not expecting to be surrounded by angry angsty teens. His fault really. He should have known better. Thankfully it seems like nobody knows about Phantom and he'd like to keep it that way.

Psaro was his calm in the storm. The other boy was proud and almost as arrogant as Robin, but he had been proven to be very kind and reliable. If Danny ever needed advice or if Robin was getting a bit too much, he could just knock of Psaros door.

The last time Robin had a fit and was starting a fight with someone, Mr. Pointy ears stepped up and told Robin that his outburst was undignified, especially for someone of a higher class like Robin seems to be presenting himself as. He also said something about there being a big difference between a king and a tyrant, but Danny had been trying to rush Robin's victim to the medway and didn't hear all of the convo.

Psaro was some kind of half demon prince who was also from another world. He didn't have a superhero name yet, but the program was brand new, and to be fair, Danny didn't officially have one either.

Some lady called Raven was supposed to be coming in to help Psaro and convince him to embrace his human half and help him with magic and...something about a curse? What did Danny get himself into???

[frehyun]

Mistletoe

non-idol!Felix x gn!Reader

warnings: none!

genre: fluff

word count: around 700

author's note: it's november but the first christmas markets are gonna go up at the end of the month in my country and it's already affecting me. hope you enjoy this, it's just a quick silly one! <3

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The way the lights reflected off his eyes, making them sparkle and glitter in the dark. His freckles like little galaxies dancing around on his cheeks, painted a cute soft red by the cold. Surrounded by countless flickering lights and beautiful decorations, your focus was always drawn to the prettiest thing around you: your boyfriend Felix.

His smile was infectious as he sipped on his hot chocolate, yapping away about something where you realised you tapped out of the conversation a while ago, mesmerised by how beautiful he looked even while doing the mundanest things like sitting at the corner of a Christmas market with you.

“-and I already have an idea of what to get Seungmin for Christmas.”

“It can’t be worse than whatever Minho has planned to torment everyone with, so I think you’re safe. You’re a great gift giver, Lixie” – you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious you didn’t catch half of his sentence.

You leaned more into his side, trying your best to initiate some form of physical contact. With you and Felix both bundled up in several layers, both sporting thick gloves and fitting beanies, it was as good as impossible to get any skinship while you were out and about, so this would have to do.

“You think they have a mistletoe somewhere around here?” – he suddenly quips, looking around the plaza.

“Are you that eager to kiss me in public?” – you giggle and take his gloved hand awkwardly into yours, intertwining your fingers to the best of your ability.

“So what if I am?” – he playfully pouts in return and squeezes your hand.

You bumped your shoulder into his and moved to get up from the little bench the two of you were situated on.

Realising that you were going to indulge his request, Felix beamed up at you, smiling that bright teethy smile of his that almost triggered your cuteness aggression into overdrive.

Hand in hand the two of you wandered around the plaza before finally spotting a stand that had a mistletoe hanging from a wooden beam. With a hop in your step, Felix and you skipped towards the little wooden hut full of giggles, excitement bubbling up in your chests.

It was silly to get this excited over a simple mistletoe kiss but with Felix by your side, even the smallest things seemed to spark unbridled joy in your heart, which was thumping happily in anticipation.

As you stood on either side of the mistletoe, grinning from ear to ear, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His soft lips found yours in an instant, kissing you like it was the last kiss he was going to get in a while.

Little fireworks exploded in your chest as they always do when you get to kiss your sunshine and you smile against his lips before the two of you parted, your forehead leaned against his.

“People are staring” – you giggled and poked his side, which in turn made him giggle and twist his body away from your attack.

“They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of me, maybe.”

“Hey! Do you want me to start listing all the things I love about you again?”

“And have me cry in the middle of a Christmas market?”

“You know I’ll do it. So! First thing-“

“Alright! I get it! You can stop!” – you hastily placed your hand over his mouth before he could make you cry of happiness and love for real, laughing over his competitiveness at who loves the other more.

It was getting awkward with all the people looking in your direction, so you decided to call it a day and trudge home.

Soft, joyful days like these were always a blessing with Felix and made you wonder what you did in your previous life to deserve him. He could always manage to make you laugh, smiling brighter than all the Christmas lights combined.

You were sure that as long as you had him, you never needed another Christmas present again if it meant you could spend your days with him.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Baby You're a Haunted House

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to go through a “haunted experience.”

contains: scare actor toby, easily scared reader, handholding, mini date

warnings: swearing, claustrophobic descriptions, if there’s any other warnings pls tell me (I was trying to keep this as light as I can)

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

“I want to go to one of the scary rooms,” you say, swallowing down any fear you might have.

Your friends cheer, one of them grabs your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and to the mansion quicker. You can’t help but stare in awe at the monstrosity of a house before you. You expected it to be like a normal haunted house, with maybe a few themed rooms, but this was almost overwhelming. And the sheer number of people going in and out made you feel bad for whoever had to clean this all up after.

Walking in through the entrance, you notice lines of people waiting to enter different hallways and rooms. Most of the experiences were kept on the first floor, with only some of them leading upstairs briefly. There were signs that pointed to which line led where, and much to your dismay, your friends had already picked one. They laugh and squeal as they walk over to the east wing of the manor. This one had a shorter line, and no wonder. The “Twisted Maze,” as it was called, was a haunted experience with low ceilings and tight halls.

The entryway was dimly lit, with candelabras flickering casting eerie shadows. The screams from the guests before you echoed out. You almost backed out right there if it wasn’t for your friends pushing you through. You walked slowly through the mirror-lined hallway, whipping your head this way and that, bracing yourself for any scares. The unnerving, low music caused your skin to crawl, and your breath quicken. You let out a sigh, seeing that it seemed to just be a maze of mirrors. You’re relieved to only be seeing distorted and cracked reflections

You jump when, in one of the mirrors, a shadowy figure appears behind you.

“It’s a projection,” one of your friends laughs behind you. You manage a shaky laugh and continue walking.

The path twists and turns into unpredictable patterns as you delve deeper into the house. It becomes harder to see as thick fog blankets the floor, obscuring your view of your feet. Paintings of dark, endless corridors line the walls, designed to disorient the direction that could lead to an exit. As you move forward, you hear shuffling noises and muffled whispers. Your pulse spikes, and you pray that those noises are pre-recorded.

But your prayers aren’t answer and, from behind you, you hear a low growl. You turn around, your eyes are wide as you take in one of the actors. He just stands behind a false crack in the wall. He seems to be some kind of Victorian ghost, with a ghostly pale complexion and a butler’s uniform. You quickly walk past him, only to meet a young girl who shrieks at you. Squealing, you try to rush past her. You can hear her giggling when she successfully gets one of your friends to scream. You nearly bolt out of the experience as bursts of compressed air and animatronics jump out at you, each one sending you into brief fits of panic.

You paw at the hanging vines that cover the doorway to the next path, which is darker than the ones before. A singular lamp illuminates the end of the hallway and your heart swells when you see an exit sign just under it. With a newfound sense of bravery, you quickly walk to the end. Unfortunately, you didn’t consider the small door at the end of the hallway. And just when you thought you had gotten used to the scares, a gloved hand reaches out of the hidden room.

You think your heart can’t take another scream, and you look away, reach behind you to grab your friend’s hand, and start dragging them to the exit. You hear a gasp, probably from your friend, and dash past the remaining props. A skeleton rattles and seems to be reaching out, and you swerve past it, rounding another corner. You’re way too focused on holding the hand you’re clutching to fully register what’s happening.

You emerge from the maze into the crisp night air outside of the mansion. Letting out a content sigh, you begin to turn around to apologize to your friend, only to be met with a complete stranger wearing a Hannibal Lecter-style muzzle. You both pause, and you look down to see that you have an iron grip on his hand. You yank it back when he leans in to shout at you, only to break out into a fit of giggles.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” you begin to apologize, even if you feel like kicking him. “I thought you were my friend.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Psshhh, don’t wor-worry ‘bout it.”

“No, I like, dragged you out of your spot. I should’ve looked, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I sssaid don’t worry,” he smiles, tilting his head. “I’m Toby. What-what’s your… name?”

You tell him, your face is still heated from embarrassment.

“If you-if you feel so bad, why duh-don’t you buy me cheesy nachos? To mmmake it up to me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but your lips curl into a smile. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Nah-nah, you… kidnapped me just in tuh-time,” he teases just as your friends start to walk out.

You hesitate, glancing at your friends. They’re doing exactly what you thought they would do – blowing kissy faces. You grab Toby’s arm before he could turn around to witness their immaturity.

“Where are the cheesy nachos?’

“Yuh-you’re handsy,” he replies, a playful look on his face.

“Shut up and walk.”

You and Toby head over to the food booths near the manor, immediately surrounded by the smell of fried food. He talked a lot, mostly about his favorite reactions when he scared people. You listened intently, finding his voice was weirdly attractive. You blushed when he told you that yours was his favorite reaction. He orders a size big enough for the both of you and you’re about to say something when he interrupts you.

“I get-get free fffood,” the words are muffled by the chips he stuffed in his mouth.

You realize that you must have been hypnotized by his voice or something because you hadn’t realized he pulled his mask down. Your gaze lingers on his cheek, looking at a large adhesive bandage covering some kind of wound. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you quickly look away, focusing your attention on the cheesy nachos piled high in a greasy mountain between you.

“Why’d you want me to buy you them?” You joke, but Toby could tell you were flustered.

He lets out a small laugh. “S’more fun-fun that way, is-isn’t it?”

You click your tongue, picking up a chip that wasn’t soggy already from the cheese. Toby’s mouth quirks into a grin as he leans closer, his tone becoming dramatic.

“What, you… didn’t wuh-wanna come with me?” He pouts and bats his eyelashes. “You practically-practically dragged me hhhere.”

“Oh my god, literally shut up,” you groan, flicking a small corner of a corn chip at him. Toby dodges it, and the sound of his laughter causes a flutter through your chest,

Both of you find a quiet spot at the edge of the festival, though you can still hear the distant sounds of music and laughter. Toby continues to tell you stories about past festivals, snacking on his nachos. Eventually, you’re talking in hushed voices, laughter mingling together as you both lean a bit closer.

[soapssuds]

android!john price x human!reader, or in which you seek a human companion after many years of being alone.

+18, smut, mdni, etc.

You were a fidgety mess as you sat in the waiting area of the office. Your eyes continually glance towards the door as you waited for your name to be called.

The office you were waiting in was like a dating service of sorts. It was for people who had trouble connecting with others. So, to help, one could get assigned or "matched" with a android.

The android could be your friend, a guide, ... a lover. Whatever you need, the android will help. And the android also had a choice too. Some seek companionship as humans do. Others are just fascinated by the whole human emotion concept in general.

Whatever it was, both humans and androids wanted to help each other. To better understand or to just not be alone in the world. And it seemed to help.

You were broken out of your thoughts when your name was called. The doctor beckoning to you to the door as you got up and collected your purse.

"Morning, how are you doing today?"

You smiled at the doctor, "I'm good... though, I am curious about the match?"

It was normal to be nervous. Because sometimes there were people who couldn't even match with an android.

The doctor smiled at you, "luckily we found the perfect partner for you."

You cringed at how she said it. You didn't want the android, whoever they were, to feel like they were being forced into a relationship after all.

She stopped in front of a door, "he's in there."

"Do I just go in?"

"That's all there is to it."

"What if he changes his mind about being with me?"

The doctor chuckled softly at you and ushered you forward, forcing you to open the door with her closing it behind you.

You aren't ready for this, you decided. And just as you were about to back out, someone greeted you.

"Morning love, I was wondering when I would get to meet you face to face."

Putting a on a brave face that consisted of a kind smile and easygoing eyes, you turned towards the voice.

“Morning, uhm… sorry, she didn’t tell me your name.”

“Neither did she tell me yours.”

He stood up from the chair that was situated at the table in the middle of the room, his form was towering. You wondered how he was created in such a way, but quickly stuffed the idea away.

You held out your hand and gave out your name, your eyes holding every anxious thought within them as you hoped you wouldn’t embarrass yourself, “you can call me John.”

He didn’t hesitate to reciprocate your gesture, much to your relief. And when his hand fitted into your own, you were taken aback a little by how warm it was. Your surprise caused him to chuckle which, in turn, caused your cheeks to heat up.

“Now love, I know why I am here, but how about you? What are you looking for the moment you set through those doors?”

He was still holding your hand (most likely to track your heart rate) while his eyes were trained on yours. You wondered silently if he even needed to blink.

“I want a partner… a romantic one. Someone who I can go on dates with, cuddle with in the evenings, and… and be intimate with. That’s what I am looking for.”

You barely managed the confidence to say all of that. Though, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to shrivel up at every single admitted word that fell from your lips. A whole part of you felt so greedy, so selfish. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea-

“Good.”

“G- good?”

He moved his hand to grip at your wrist and gently tugged you forward to where you fell into his chest, “because love, that’s what I was looking for too. It may be hard to believe, but even androids can love.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from your lips, “and I wouldn’t doubt that at all.”

“Then, would you allow me to take you out on a date so we could properly get to know each other?”

Deciding to just stop worrying for once, you played along. A giddy smile on your lips as you leaned in, “if you would be so kind to escort me, good sir.”

To say the least, you never made it to your little date.

Instead, you had brought him to your home so you could get ready, though, what ended up in you changing your clothes was him politely knocking on your door to help you out which eventually led into him helping you into bed.

A date could always wait for another day, right?

Sure, you were doing things backwards, but with how John had your legs folded up to your chests, you doubted that he cared.

“Ahhh, look at you, love, your cunt is just swallowing me whole.”

He pressed his weight down onto you, his hands gripping your hips harshly as he thrusted into you. His dick plunging and marking your walls, forcing your nerves to remember him. As a steady and hard plap – plap – plap echoed into the room along with your moans and sweet whimpers every time his tip kissed your cervix.

You scratched at his back, your nails digging into his all too real skin as you tried to thrust your hips back into him, desperate for him to go deeper, harder. Removing one of his hands from your hips, he moved his fingers down to your dripping cunt, with precise and careful movements, he started to gently rub at your clit. The way you moaned so loud for him as that thread snapped within you. Your walls clenching hard around him as you came around his hard length. The mere feel of you squeezing his cock had him gushing. His cum that filled you may match the white color of a human man’s but was otherwise just harmless warm fluid created and stored, only to be used in such situations as these.

And to say the least, you were his first partner who let him cum inside, and as he watched you try to catch your breath, he finally released your legs from the mean mating press he had you in. And before he could pull out of you, you had already locked your legs around his waist.

“Again?”

You were breathless, but craved for more. To match with someone like you.. he was truly lucky.

“Only if you’ll ride me this time,” he said flipping you both over so he was now on his back and you were straddling his waist, his cock stiff snuggly inside you.

“With pleasure, and then maybe we can go out on that date later?”

“Whatever you want and more, love. I’m all yours, just as you’re mine.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, it's not just an emotional rollercoaster it's a full on emotional CARNIVAL 🤣

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

The line is devastating. It ''bites." It's more than just telling someone that they messed up, it's also kinda catty lol.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

He really bet it all. And I'm in love with the person who said "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." 😂

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

I think it would have been a bigger gut punch to Dean if she didn't stay in the room with him, but I still think that the her turning her back on him and not letting him touch her kinda hit the nail on the head pretty well too.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

It's not weird, I think that it's really fitting! And I also really like writing the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff too lol. But you're absolutely right, Dean really does adopt that mentality after Lisa and Ben and it is really heartbreaking to see him like that.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

As much as I do love the readers who are "tough as nails" and "doesn't cry very often" I love the readers who are strong but are allowed to break. It makes them seem more real. Because as much as I believe that there are people who are completely just insane badasses, they've gotta have some kind of emotion or compassion or else they don't seem human. Also "Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL" I'm DEAD 😂

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

Please never apologize for the angst. I LOVE IT! And I really did also love how emotional this fic made me. It was wonderful lol.

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

GIRL WHAT?! OH MY WORD THAT IS JUST SO MUCH BETTER! Thank you for explaining that to me!

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

No, THANK YOU for writing this wonderful fic/series! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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[sere1nnes]

︶︶︶﹕House of Cards. CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Aventurine x Galaxy Ranger!Reader second chance romance, canon universe, ex!aventurine, reader is a former member of the IPC

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ SYNOPSIS: When a seemingly ordinary visit to Penacony ends up in meeting your ex from the IPC, it quickly leads to numerous attempts from Aventurine in winning you back. You swore to cut off ties with that corrupted organization, but the past always comes to bite you eventually. You begin to wonder if his feelings are genuine, or an elaborate plan for you to be dragged back as a pawn for the higher-ups.

Even with the familiar sensation of his lips on yours and his gloved hand behind your neck, you still can't help but be skeptical of his true intentions. But perhaps he really is willing to bet on you two again.

After all, Aventurine's more than willing to gamble on his pride in exchange of your heart.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ Chapter WC: 1.9k

a/n: the childe fan to aventurine fan pipeline is real, y'all... I can confirm

Penacony was known as the land of sweet, blissful dreams. So why did your visit start off as a nightmare, merely half an hour after stepping foot onto the Reverie? 

To say that the infrastructure was simply massive would be an understatement. The Reverie was colossal. It was lined up with a seemingly endless amount of floors that faded into the skies. No wonder it took an average worker an entire Trailblaze year’s worth of labor to even visit as a regular guest— everything about the hotel screamed luxury.

Standing amidst several people walking with gigantic luggages, you admired the scene before you. The gigantic gears that spun around a glowing ball of energy was centered before the lobby, further adding extravagance to the view.

This was one of the first steps to a new life away from the Interastral Peace Corporation— one of integrity.

Or so you thought.

"Your room number is 431." The receptionist hummed as she finished verifying your stay. Her hand reached out to give out a Penacony Dreamscape card. "Please do not hesitate if you'd like us to assist you with directions and such." Raising your eyebrows slightly at the familiar number, a sense of deja vu filled you. Where can you recall it from?

Ultimately, you shook the feeling off as something trivial. "Alright, thank you miss." Accepting the card, your fingers brushed against its shiny texture. You then pocketed it and turned to leave for the hotel room.

With a typical service smile, the staff member seemed a little nervous, even guilty, in her tone of voice. "E... Enjoy your stay." 

This caught your attention instantaneously. It didn't take too long for you to realize that there was something amiss by the way that woman had hesitated in saying such simple words. Even if the benefit of doubt was given, surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to wish someone a pleasant visit. It was imperceptible to most, but for a former member of the IPC turned Galaxy Ranger, your intuition was correct at least 95% of the time. That’s what you believed.

However instead of requesting for a room change, your own curiosity motivated you to disregard that idea and investigate the suspicious matter. You simply gave a polite nod in response to the lady, taking a look at her once more. 

Walking in long cautious strides, you made your way to zone 10 of the Red Heart with mixed feelings.

You certainly had a keen eye, but the speck of blonde hair in your peripheral vision had slipped past quite quickly— if not, easily. 

…

Before you was the door to your hotel room. After a bit of assistance from a kind bellboy named Misha, the journey in searching for Room 431 managed to be a breeze.

Shoes tapped against the ground as you hovered closer, examining if the knob has been tampered with. But after some careful observation, you concluded that nothing was out of the ordinary. With the door, at least.

It gently opened as you stepped in, your eyes locked onto the spacious bathtub shaped like a seashell in the middle. A vaporwave-styled background displayed behind it, adding a retro vibe to the surroundings. You further scanned around and took note of the shiny red couch cushions, evident that they have just been cleaned. Even the lilacs on the coffee tables were fresh and fragrant. 

Though everything seemed to be normal, you couldn’t let go of your previous suspicions surrounding the safety of the room. 

A golden phonograph sat neatly on a drawer, as if it was waiting to be played. Curiously, you gravitated towards the device. Putting a finger to the press button, the CD began to spin. 

“Birds are born with no shackles, then what fetters my fate?” Robin’s melodic voice tuned, the vinyl slowly twirling. Your lips slightly curled as you reached to raise the volume.

“Blown away, the white petals,”

Deeming it was a bit too loud, you lowered it just slightly by sliding down a button. 

“Leave me trapped in the cage,” 

The phonograph continued to hum, waiting for the next lyric. 

“That’s your favorite song, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened, spinning around at the sound of the voice that clearly did not belong to Robin’s. When you realized who it was, your heart nearly stopped.

Not a single word was uttered out as you stared at Aventurine. He in turn looked back at you with those soulless eyes of his— ones you used to think were the most beautiful ones in the entire universe. 

A nonchalant smile was etched onto his lips as if this was just a simple reunion of old acquaintances. “Though I would say I prefer ‘Hope Is the Thing With Feathers’, even if it isn’t my usual genre of mu—“ 

Aventurine blinked as your sharp blade met his face only inches away from actual contact. He was caught off-guard, but ultimately his signature smirk returned to his expression. “Now, now, is this a way to greet a former colleague?”

”I already told all of you, I’m not coming back.” You replied bluntly.

With a low laugh, he pushed your sword aside without a care. “You’re not coming back to who, specifically?” Aventurine stepped closer.  “To the IPC, or me?” His voice lowered to a whisper.

“You—“ Your face heated up with infuriation, or perhaps even something else. “I’m not trying to play into the executives’ tricks. My resignation is final, and I don’t care how many of their underdogs they send just to hunt me down.” 

Moving to him, you made sure to assert your own stand on the matter regarding your former employers. “I am simply a third party that they hired, and I no longer wish to pursue the line of work they assign to me.” 

The Interastral Peace Corporation was far from a protector of unity, even if it was what they claimed to be. Those who have been unfortunate enough to experience their unethical ways and exploitation know that well. 

Both you and Aventurine were familiar to this dark truth.

He seemed to remember this as he no longer had an aura of confidence. It instead had a tinge of understanding. 

However, his demeanor once again switched up. Removing his hat with another smile, he replied, “Oh, but I never said I was here on behalf of the IPC.” 

“The IPC is on the Charmony Festival’s VIP list. ” You deadpanned, not believing the statement entirely. 

A half-hearted chuckle escaped from Aventurine. But he managed to recover quickly. “Well, perhaps you’re right. But that would mean you actually cared enough to keep that in mind, no?” 

“That’s not the point.” 

“You’re right, I’ll cut straight to the chase,” He leaned in, his face now serious.

“Why don’t you begin by explaining why you simply vanished without telling me?” 

You visibly tensed, your eyes avoiding his firm gaze. 

It was difficult to speak. You were genuinely scrambling to form a proper explanation in your head, expecting Aventurine to start demanding answers to more of his questions. But he only stared at you with a quiet intensity as he waited.  “You were on a mission. I didn’t want to disturb you and possibly cause it to fail.” You finally said. 

Mustering the strength to look up to his eyes again, you could see that they were distant, yet intensely present. A paradox that made it impossible to tell what Aventurine was feeling. 

“…Is that really it?” He muttered, before clearing his throat and returning his closed-mouth smile. It was intimidating how quickly the Stoneheart could change his demeanor. “It can’t be helped, I suppose.”

“But come on, did you really have to block my number too?” 

The guilt in your heart only worsened. “I just don’t want to involve you in the conflict I’m in.” You retorted, almost giving in to the emotions stirring within you. Your tone grew strict once more in order to counter this. “Listen, we shouldn’t even be talking. The walls have eyes and ears.” 

“So you still care about me then?” quipped Aventurine, disregarding the rest of what you’ve said.  You blinked, momentarily speechless. But you managed to ignore his comment. “You should just go. Please.”

The small curl on his lips stayed, replying, “But this is my room.”  His room…? 

”What do you mean?” You asked warily, not sure on what he had up his sleeve. But the dots connected once he pulled out a Dreamscape card out of his clothes. It was identical to yours. 

“Room 431. Is this not proof enough?” The gambler’s eyebrows raised innocently.  Knowing his tendencies, the expression on your face turned into a scowl. “You’re insane. It all makes sense now— you bribed that receptionist?” 

“What can I say, I’m one helpless man.” Aventurine slid the card back to his pockets. “But I’m sure you already know how desperate I can get for what I want.” 

Before you could even come up with a snarky reply, he added, “Nothing can make me convince you? Not even the fact that our room number is our anniversary date? If that’s not enough, then you could consider rearranging the numbers and realize that it also spells out 143.” 

You were seriously close to tweaking out. “Aventurine, you can’t possible be serio—“ 

“No? Okay, then how about you go open your bank account for me and see that I—“ 

“For Aeons’ sake! I told you to leave, didn’t I?!” You gasped out, silence forming between you two. Though with an exception for Robin’s album playing in the background, almost ashamed as the vinyl stopped moving on cue. 

Aventurine’s expression looked blank, not expecting this sort of reaction from you. He withdrew a couple inches back, shoulders tense.

Regaining composure, you muttered. “…Just go.” With that, you turned your back away from him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The tension in the air seemed to hang for an eternity, before he replied, “Okay. See you.” He seemed reluctant to leave, his footsteps heavy and slow as he turned. 

Part of you wanted to yell at yourself for acting that way towards your ex, especially one you haven’t completely moved on from. But you firmly thought to yourself that this was the right decision.

It was only an attempt to deceive you. That’s what you kept in mind the entire time. You managed to keep your feelings buried this entire time, meaning this was no time to falter. So why are you only realizing now that the look of emotion in those dull eyes of his could possibly be real? 

The efforts you’ve made have gone to waste with just one word. “Wait.”

Almost as if Aventurine was waiting for this moment, he stopped and turned swiftly. “Changed your mind?”

You wanted to scoff at how fast he jumped onto conclusions, but it wasn’t like he was wrong either.  “I didn’t block you. I just changed my number.” The thought of turning around and facing him fully would hurt your dignity even more, so you simply threw a card to his direction. Of course, Aventurine caught it with ease. His fingers were always efficient.

“So you just casually have cards like these?” He smiled playfully, although you refused to look at him properly. “Have you given this out to any other man so far?” 

“Those are business cards.”  “Oh, so this is only for business purposes. I see.” He mused. “Then, I’ll certainly find the time to contact you if I’m in some trouble, yeah?” 

You waved him off, not saying another word. Luckily, he decided not to push on your buttons any longer. 

As Aventurine exited the room and shut the door behind him, you couldn’t bear to keep yourself from groaning at what you just impulsively did.

That exchange was only for professional purposes, surely.

a/n: helloooo! thank you for reading up to this point, chapter 2 is available on my ao3 and will be posted on my tumblr once i drop chapter 3 :3 divider creds @/cafekitsune

[ganxiously]

With a bit of distance, I can actually see one consistent flaw in Tommy's character that we as fans completely missed out on and that is him being a very self-centred person. I'm not saying he's selfish because we have clearly seen in both s7 and s8 that he does turn up for other people - at the very beginning with the cruise ship, then for Buck (especially in 8.05) and he is definitely not in firefighting for the clout.

What I mean is that from the very beginning, he seems incapable or should I say, unwilling to go past his own experiences and hurts. We could take the first date into account (not a lot because he was a bit valid there) where he wrote off Buck, immediately assuming he was not ready. I don't think they say it clearly and I don't have the energy to go and check but it is implied that he has experienced this, whether in himself or in a previous partner.

We see this flaw come back again in the dinner scene where while Buck is talking about Bobby and his issues with his father, he falls back on his own experience again. I don't think he was doing it out of malice or in order to take away Buck's moment, but he genuinely couldn't seem to empathise with it without looking through the lens of his own relationship with his father and with Gerard.

The grand climax of this flaw came out this episode where in the beginning, he is extremely flippant towards what he did to Abby. He is focused entirely on how hard living the lie was for him, so much so, it doesn't seem to even clock for him that his self-preservation tactics hurt a woman so much. This again comes back in the break-up scene where the moment he considers himself under threat, he pulls back completely. He again writes off Buck, telling him basically there is no way you aren't breaking my heart because that is what my experiences tell me is about to happen. He doesn't even really wait to see where Buck is coming from or have a conversation about it. He puts words in Buck's mouth, says of course this is the only way it goes and then practically runs away from there.

I'm not saying all this to portray Tommy as a bad person but more as a flawed person which actually makes me like him more because I can't help but wonder why he is like the way he is. Is it innate? Has he always been like this but has never had anyone call him out on his bullshit? Is it something he made a conscious decision to do because he felt like no one else was putting his feelings first? is he not over his past the way he pretends to be? it also makes me sad because if played out differently, we could have had so much fun with it because Buck is completely opposite to him in this regard and down the line, if they couldn't make it work, it would have been a great moment of personal growth for Buck (again) as well where he would learn to put his hurts first.

[and wow, I think I just played myself because I am a little more obsessed with Tommy than I was before writing this out]

[anna-hawk]

Pardon my French

Michael “Mikey” Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You should never assume that the person you're talking about in another language doesn't happen to speak that same language. Rating: T | WC: 5.8k CW: none except my sense of humor, French-speaking reader, French, crack, fluff, meet-cute

Read it on AO3

The happiest of birthdays to my favorite person on here, @darlingshane. Amaya, I don't even know what I could say that I haven't already said 100 times. All I will say is that I love you from the bottom of my heart and that having you as a close friend has been a wonderful experience these past 4 years 🧡🧡🧡

This time, as a gift, I decided to go for Mikey, considering how much you've grown to love him. Your fics for him are some of your best, with “Salt of the Earth”, so I thought I could do a little homage. I was reading through a list of prompts for meet-cutes last month and this really spoke to me. Your Spanish reader fics were extremely fun, which was what inspired me and made me decide to make this into your gift. While I obviously can't write a Spanish reader, I thought you would enjoy something with a French reader instead.

✨Have fun and again, happy birthday!✨

Taking a left at the next street corner, you quickly hurried across the road when you saw the green traffic light for pedestrians. 

“You really suck, Caroline,” you grumbled into your phone, as the chill of November blasted a cold gust of wind into your face. 

Your cousin laughed before sighing deeply. “I know… Trust me, this was not what I had in mind for today either.” 

You sighed in turn as you glanced around for a place to head inside and warm up a bit. “How’s the fever?”

“It’s a bit lower. She’s sleeping for now.” 

“Good,” you smiled at the relief in your cousin’s voice. 

You had intended to spend the day together, but her daughter had come down with a nasty cold that had held both parents up for most of the night. 

“What’s the plan now?” Caroline asked right as you entered the nearest shop to get out of the cold wind. 

As soon as you were inside, you were met with the sound of shouting from the register as someone called out orders, while the delicious smell of homemade food hit your nose. 

“Getting something to eat,” you replied distractedly while taking in your surroundings. 

You hadn’t noticed what kind of establishment you’d entered, but since you hadn’t had breakfast that morning, and with the scents all around you, you figured that you could grab a bite. 

“Oh, where?”

“Dunno.” You looked around until you saw a white sign with green lettering. “The Beef… some small place selling Italian beef, apparently… Smells really good,” you added, as you walked up towards the small line at the register. 

“Yo, cuz, what’cha doin’ back there?” the man at the register bellowed to the back of the shop. “People fuckin’ waitin’ here. Get a fuckin’ move on.”

“Fuck you, Richie. You come back here if-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Will you calm the fuck down, yeah?” said another man, who was straightening from where he’d been looking for something under the counter next to the shouting one. 

Your eyes instantly slid to that man, taking note of the thick, dark hair on top of his head, the sharp jaw and the broad shoulders stretching out the shirt. 

“Ah, ben maintenant je sais pourquoi ça s’appelle The Beef, (Well, now I know why it's called The Beef),” you uttered into the phone, automatically switching to French to talk to your cousin, while giving the man a slow once over as you reached the front of the line. 

She laughed heartily and made a curious sound. “Pourquoi? (Why?)” 

“Hey, what can I get for you today, sweetheart?” asked the guy called Richie as he shot you a smile. 

You unfortunately had to look away from the other man and smiled as you looked at the sandwich list. 

“Hold on a sec,” you addressed Caroline. “Hey, hi… um… an Original would be good, thanks… and a soda, please.”

“Sure thing… want it to go or you stayin’?” 

“Not going back into that wind for a while if possible,” you stated fervently, which had Richie chuckling, while the dark-haired man snorted and nodded his head as he finished another order. 

“Right, that’ll be $8.50… Go have a seat. We’ll send someone out in a sec.” 

Nodding and quickly paying while Richie bellowed your order towards the back, you made your way to the two-person table that had the best vantage point on the register. 

“We’ll definitely have to come back here,” you stated to your cousin, as you sat down and removed your coat while you watched the dark-haired man smiling or shouting his way through the orders. 

“I think I’ve actually heard of the place. The name sounds familiar anyway. Family run business, I think.”

“Sure looks like it. From the way they keep freaking yelling at each other, it probably is.” 

“So… tell me more about this Mr. Beef,” she snickered. 

Switching over to your earphones to make eating easier while talking to Caroline, you made a more detailed description of the man’s features. 

A few minutes later, you sat up straight when you noticed him coming into your direction with your order. “He’s coming over, hold on.”

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he smiled, placing the sandwich and soda in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you grinned, hearing him calling you sweetheart having a wholly different effect on you than when Richie had said it. 

“Lemme know if you need anything else,” he requested, while pulling a rag out of his apron and walking backwards to the table next to yours. 

“Thanks. I’m good for now.” 

He nodded and turned around, which revealed his denim clad backside to you.

“Tu sais quoi? Je ne t’en veux même plus de ne pas être venue, (You know what? I'm not even mad you couldn't come anymore.),” you told your cousin, as your eyes fixed on the moving ass before you while the man cleaned the table-top.  

She snorted at your tone. “Et qu’est-ce qui te fait dire ça? (And what’s making you say this?)”

“Et bien… Il est en train de nettoyer la table juste à côté de la mienne… Et je peux te dire qu’il a une belle paire de miches**. C’est sur elles que j’aimerais manger cet Italian beef. (Well… He's cleaning the table right next to mine… And let me tell you that he has a gorgeous ass. I'd rather eat that Italian beef on that.)”

She burst out laughing this time. “T’es pas possible. (You're the worst.) ” 

You grinned at her laughter, while continuing to watch the man, who'd stopped for a second before resuming cleaning the table.

“Je les pétrirais volontiers celles-là. (I'd love to knead that.)” 

“Toi et tes blagues de bouffe. (You and your food jokes),” she wheezed, and you could easily imagine her shaking her head. 

You chuckled lightly and bit into your sandwich, which turned out to be delicious. You moaned your appreciation. 

“We're so coming back here,” you said with enthusiasm and took another bite. 

The man turned around and shot you an amused smirk, before walking up to your table and leaning slightly into your space.

“Et comme mes miches, tout est fait maison ici. (And like my ass, everything here's homemade.)”

Your mouth fell open and only reflexes kept the sandwich from slipping through your fingers as you stared at him in utter shock. He winked at you and began walking to the next room where other tables stood. 

“Oublie ce que je viens de dire… Je dois quitter la ville, (Forget what I said… I need to leave town.),” you said feebly, while staring after him and hearing him laughing at your words. 

“Hein? Pourquoi? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? (Huh? Why? What happened?)”

“Caro…” you whispered, still in shock. “Il parle français. (Caro… He speaks French.)” 

There was a second of silence, soon followed by your cousin's loud, screaming laughter coming through the earphones. 

“Qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? (What did he say?)” she gasped out in between peels of laughter. 

“Que, comme ses miches, tout est fait maison ici. (That, like his ass, everything here's homemade.),” you mumbled, while putting the sandwich down and hiding your face in your hands. 

She laughed even more, cackling through wheezing breaths. 

“I can't show my face here anymore,” you groaned, looking forlornly at your sandwich. 

“Was he angry? From what he told you, he didn't seem to be.”

“No… he looked amused. But that's not the point… I talked about kneading that man's ass right in front of him,” you moaned and shook your head. 

Caroline chuckled lightly. “At least you weren't badmouthing him.” 

You only hummed and folded up the sandwich. There was no way that you could eat this now. About to bemoan going back into the wind to escape your embarrassment, you heard your niece’s tiny voice calling for her mother. 

“Sorry, gotta go,” Caroline said hurriedly before speaking softly to her daughter. 

“No problem. Give her a big hug from me.”

“Will do… Keep me posted on the hot stranger situation.”

You snorted. “There's no situation at all. I'm gonna slink out of here and never come back.”

Caroline laughed softly. “Whatever… talk later.”

“Yeah, later.” 

You removed the earphones and placed them back into their case before checking your surroundings. How could you have been so stupid and run your mouth like that? Caroline was right, he didn’t look angry at all, but you’d rarely felt this embarrassed in your life. You quickly put everything into your bag and left a large tip on the table before getting up. As you put on your coat, you noticed the man standing in front of a wall as he checked the light fixture. Glad that he couldn’t see you, you were about to run out when something held you back. You bit over your bottom lip as you contemplated him and sighed deeply. 

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” you asked tentatively as you reached him. 

His head turned to you in surprise, before a large smirk appeared on his handsome face as he moved his whole body toward you. Damn, he really did look incredibly good. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh… well, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I’m always the first one to tell people to be careful with speaking another language in front of others and not assume they don’t understand you, but here I was doing it anyway,” you said in a rush, glancing at him in between words while mostly avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Eh, don't worry, it's not like you were talking shit about me so…” he trailed off with a light shrug, while his grin never left his face. 

“Maybe, but still… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be…” He leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. “Ça ne me gêne pas. Surtout quand ça vient d'une aussi belle bouche que la tienne. (I don't mind. Especially when it comes from a pretty mouth like yours.)” 

Your eyes widened, while you felt your whole face warming again when his gaze dropped to your parted lips. That’s not what you had expected him to say. 

“Well,” you breathed, your eyes locking with his as he looked up again. “Good to know.”

You stood there, watching each other for a few seconds, before Richie’s voice boomed through the snack. 

“Hey, Cuz, Fak’s on the line ‘bout the fridge.” 

The man in front of you didn’t react except to briefly lift his eyes toward where the voice was coming from before looking at you again. 

“Mikey!” 

“For fuck’s sake. I heard you. Tell him I’ll call him back in a sec,” he called out irritably. 

You laughed to yourself at his annoyance at being interrupted, which had his attention returning to you. Shaking his head with a small grin and a sigh, he put his hands in the pockets of the blue apron.

“You leaving already?” he asked after a beat, as he noticed that you had your coat on and your table was cleaned off. 

You grinned inwardly at the word already, as if he was regretting seeing you leave sooner than he had expected. 

“Yeah… think I’ll just head home for the day. No weather for nice walks outside.”

Mikey only hummed in agreement and looked down with a small crease between his brows. 

“But I’ll be back,” you blurted out, which had him staring back at you with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… best Italian sandwich I’ve had… Need to have another taste and all.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he smiled, inclining his head to one side as he stared at you intently. 

You suddenly didn’t feel like leaving at all anymore, but sitting back down would seem weird now, right? He was obviously flirting with you, much to your surprised delight, yet you didn’t feel like coming across as too eager either. 

“‘Kay, then… I — uh — I’ll see you next time, I guess.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he smiled softly, while his gaze remained focused on you. 

“Right… bye, Mikey,” you babbled, finally taking a step back just when you saw him grinning at you using his name. 

“A la prochaine. (Until next time),” he replied, following you towards the front of the shop. 

Your name came through your lips like a reflex, and you would have felt embarrassed about that too had Mikey not smiled at learning it. When he repeated the goodbyes with your name this time, you left with a wide smile and barely felt the wind across your skin as you headed home. 

**The word ‘ miche’ stands for a loaf of bread, but it’s often used to refer to someone’s butt because, as you can guess, of its rounded form. Reader wants to "knead that dough". 

After that day, you had returned as promised. 

On the first time, they’d had a busy day, with the line far longer than the last time you’d been there. Mikey hadn’t been at the register, which had disappointed you, but you’d still ordered the same thing as last time. You hadn’t lied when you’d said that it was the best Italian beef you’d had. As you’d been about to walk to a free table, Mikey had come out of the kitchen with a large tray filled with orders. He’d stopped in his tracks as he noticed you and smiled brightly in recognition. Unfortunately, this had been the only interaction that day, since he’d had to return to the kitchen immediately. 

On your third visit, Caroline insisted on coming along. She told you that she wanted to taste the infamous Italian beef that people raved about at her job, but you knew that it also was to get a look at Mikey. However, like last time, he wasn’t at the register. She looked at Richie and then back at you with a raised eyebrow, but you only rolled your eyes at her. 

“Il a les yeux bleus, celui-là (This one has blue eyes.).”

“De très beaux yeux bleus (Very pretty blue eyes.),” she commented with a smile directed at Richie, as he asked for your order.

Caroline ordered a few different things to bring home a little later, while you went with the original as both other times. Richie yelled the order to the back as always, while he invited you to take a seat. 

“Maybe he isn’t in,” Caroline said as she looked around herself. 

You shrugged as you took a napkin and folded it in half. “Maybe.” 

You wanted to sound nonchalant, but you seriously hoped that he’d be around. 

A little while later, the kitchen door opened, with Mikey stepping through it while talking to the person behind him. With your direct view of the register, you noticed him immediately. At your sudden silence, Caroline turned to look as well, which had you hissing at her to not be so obvious. 

“What? I’m just checking where my order is,” she waved her hand around at you, and you huffed. 

Mikey was still talking while he lifted his eyes to stare around the shop distractedly, only to notice you and smile as he spoke. Your face heated, and you bit your bottom lip at the way he smiled at you. You saw him say something to Richie, who looked towards your table before pointing at an order. 

“So?” You heard Caroline ask, but you were too busy watching as Mikey picked up the order and walked towards you.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “So, these two for now” — he placed a sandwich in front of each of you along with your drinks. — “and this to-go, right?” He put a packed order in the center of the table. 

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled. 

“Alors c’est lui, pas vrai? (So, that’s him, right?)” Caroline asked while staring at him, which had you making wide eyes at her and groaning softly. 

“Caro…”

Mikey looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, before glancing at you with a smirk. 

“Oui, c’est moi (Yes, it’s me.),” he replied easily. 

Caroline grinned and nodded her head. “Alors, tout est fait maison ici, c’est bien ça? (So, everything’s homemade here, correct?)”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, and kicked your cousin under the table. 

Mikey laughed heartily and nodded. “Oui, absolument tout. (Yes, absolutely everything.)”

“Great. Good to know,” Caroline shrugged and sat back casually, like she was just a satisfied customer. 

Mikey chuckled and looked back at you with a sly smile. 

“Anything else I can get you guys?” 

“Nope, we’re good, thank you,” you quickly replied before Caroline could jump in and embarrass you more. 

Mikey nodded with another small laugh and walked off with a “Bon appétit. (Enjoy.)” 

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed at your cousin, who had the gall to snort and roll her eyes. 

“I had to see if the man can take a joke, and he does.” She took a bite from her sandwich and groaned in satisfaction as she chewed. “Besides, the man already knows you find him hot… Which, you were right about, he’s a good-looking dude… But, I’ll take the yelling, blue-eyed one,” she added matter-of-factly after taking another bite. 

You snorted at her words. Caroline was married to one of the chillest men on this planet, and she loved the hell out of him. But she’d always had a thing for the loud ones. Except that it never worked out with them because of her fiery personality. She and her husband balanced each other out perfectly, though. 

“Still, you didn’t have to remind him of what I said,” you grumbled, biting into your own sandwich. “I was more hoping he’d forget about it.” 

Caroline snorted softly. “That first impression is gonna be unforgettable. But I really don’t think he minds that at all… The opposite, really.”

“Right…” You rolled your eyes and sipped from your drink this time. “He might have flirted with me last time, but it doesn’t mean anything. He was just being nice.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, while swallowing another bite and glancing at you with a smirk. “The attraction clearly does go both ways with how he can’t stop looking at you.” 

“What?” you asked in surprise and sat up straight in your chair. 

“He’s talking to customers a few tables over, and he’s looked at you at least ten times already.” 

You blinked at her at the revelation and ducked your head with a shrug. 

“Maybe he’s just looking at our table in general.”

“Yeah, right. I could be dancing around naked that he wouldn’t even notice it.”

This had you uttering a loud laugh of amusement, which turned into a small, pleased smile as you took in her words. 

“He’s coming back,” she whispered suddenly, having you jerking in your seat. 

“Ça vous plait? (Do you like it?)” he asked Caroline, although he glanced at you. 

“Aussi bon qu’on me l’avait dit. (As good as I was told.)” She nodded with a hum of approval. 

“Content de l’entendre… Et toi? (Glad to hear it… What about you?)” he glanced your way with a lifted eyebrow. 

“Délicieux (Delicious.),” you smiled, feeling your face warming as you saw your cousin watching the two of you with a smirk. 

Mikey nodded with a pleased smile and was about to say something when Richie called for him. He sighed. 

“Enjoy the rest of your meal,” he said and shot you a smile that was obviously only for you before he headed back. 

You followed him with your eyes until he vanished in the kitchen, which had you noticing Caroline’s lifted eyebrow that clearly said ‘told you so’.

“Could be dancing naked,” she repeated meaningfully with a smirk. 

Shaking your head at her with a small laugh, you went on eating the sandwich. 

An hour later, you left The Beef, but Mikey never came back from the kitchen. 

In the following weeks, The Beef became one of your regular places. It had everything to do with Mikey, obviously, however, as the weeks went on, you got into talking to the other people working there. The place was chaotic, with everyone running around and shouting obscenities at each other, but you quickly realized how deeply everyone cared about each other. Caroline, and even her husband, came along a couple more times. However, you mostly went by yourself. For the simple reason that Mikey would often come to your table and strike up a conversation whenever you went alone. 

You seriously enjoyed talking to him. He could be as loud and all over the place as the rest of the Beef’s staff, and flirt with you in a very obvious way, while he could also give off this more introverted and thoughtful persona. It was during the later moments that you talked the most, with Mikey sometimes sitting down at your table and talking about the most mundane stuff. You shared stories about your jobs and families, which told you that he also had a younger brother along with the younger sister you’d seen a couple of times. Watching her interact with the loud men in the restaurant, looking so sweet and calm, only to see her biting back if needed, had been an incredibly funny moment. 

Caroline was getting more and more frustrated with the two of you for not moving things along, though. However, you really didn’t care. Did you want there to be more? Yes, but you also genuinely enjoyed spending the time with Mikey the way that you currently were, despite how much you wanted to kiss him when he stared at you from under his eyebrows like he often did. Only time would tell, and you weren’t in any particular hurry. 

“Hey, Basic Beef. How’s it goin’ today?” Richie hollered as soon as he saw you. 

You chuckled at the nickname and walked up to him. Richie had taken to calling you that a few visits back after you’d been talking about your choice of order. He’d teased you about always taking the same thing and not being adventurous enough. To which you’d laughed and shrugged, telling him that you were okay with being a basic bitch. Richie had almost keeled over with laughter at your words, wheezing out the word Basic Beef. To no one’s surprise, Caroline had almost lost it after you’d told her the following day. These two got along far too well.

“Hey, Ducon. (Hey, Asshole),” you snorted and leaned against the counter. 

He grinned and turned towards the list of sandwiches with a hum of faked curiosity. 

“What will it be today?” he singsonged. 

“You’re such a dick,” you laughed. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Richie smirked, as he shouted to the back while maintaining eye contact with you. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

You groaned and shook your head, while you heard Mikey’s voice from the kitchen. 

“Hope you ain’t being a dick about her order again.”

Richie grinned at you, which had you fighting down the warmth rushing into your face at the fact that Mikey knew exactly who Richie was talking about. 

“Yes, he is,” you called out with a laugh to hide your embarrassment, knowing that the other customers could hear everything too. 

“She insulted me in French,” Richie threw back with mock outrage. 

“Serves you right,” Mikey said, stepping out of the kitchen with a wide grin directed at you. “Hey, Sweetheart.” 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

You saw Richie sighing and rolling his eyes at the two of you before moving towards the kitchen. “Guess I’ll be making that sandwich myself.” 

“God, you’re such a fucking drama queen,” Mikey snorted, while you laughed at Richie’s theatrics. “Can’t I just say hi?”

“That’s not sayin’ hi, cuz, that’s undressin’ her with your eyes.”

You almost choked on your spit, while Mikey closed his eyes as if praying for patience and sighed. “Why do I even let you work here?”

“Cause this place would come crashin’ down without me, asshole.” 

Mikey shoved him hard with a huff of a laugh and took a step back before looking at you and then back at Richie. 

“I’ll have that order out in two,” he finally said after looking at you again. 

“Uh, thanks,” you nodded, while Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow as Mikey made his way back to the kitchen.

Richie sighed again while you took out your wallet, and nodded at the customer who had just entered the place and was waiting behind you. Handing over the cash, your money was met by Richie waving it away. 

“Go have a seat, Love. It’s on the house tonight,” he said with a much softer tone. 

“Oh… Um, okay, thanks, Richie.”

“No problem,” he winked with a genuine smile. A smile that you returned easily. 

One thing had to be said about Richie; he might be loud and obnoxious most of the time, he was also a nice guy who you actually really liked. Putting everything back into your bag, you made your way to your usual table. 

As promised, Mikey was out with your order barely two minutes later. 

“There you go.” He placed everything neatly in front of you. 

“Thanks,” you smiled brightly, looking into his face. 

Mikey nodded and looked back towards the register and the kitchen with a tiny frown. 

“I — uh — I’m kinda stuck back there with preparing stuff for the weekend and-”

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I know you can’t chat every time,” you cut in, nodding your head in understanding. You didn’t want him to feel bad about not coming out to talk if he was busy. 

“Yeah, no, I know, but I was kinda thinking…” he trailed off and looked down for a beat, sucking on his bottom lip. “Will you stay after we close?” he finally asked, looking at you from under his lashes. 

You blinked a couple of times at the unexpected question. “Oh… um, yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Yeah?” he smiled softly. “It’s gonna be” — he looked around the place — “another hour at least, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting. I can go pester Richie if I get too bored.”

Mikey barked out a laugh at that and nodded his head a few times. 

“‘Kay… See you later.”

You smiled in acknowledgment and watched him walk back, stopping next to Richie, whose eyes shot to you after a moment, but you quickly averted your gaze. Picking up your sandwich, you took a bite to stop yourself from looking up again. Your face felt warm as you thought about Mikey’s request to stay. That had never happened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what was going to happen. In any case, you could only imagine Richie grinning like a lunatic at Mikey informing him that you’d be staying. To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and went through your various social media platforms while you ate and then sat out to wait. 

A little while later, you were reading through an article about a show you were looking forward to when Richie appeared at your side. 

“You can already go through to the back. Everyone’s left there, and I’m gonna finish with the couple customers left and close the front.”

“Oh, okay.” You got up and looked towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, listen,” Richie started, looking suddenly serious. “I know I’ve been givin’ you shit and all that about him, but truth is, Mikey’s been… kinda all over the place lately. But since you showed up, speaking French and all that… I’ve seen more glimpses of my best friend than I have in a while.”

You stared at him in surprise. That’s not what you had expected to hear. 

“Shit… I don’t wanna scare you off or anything. But… shit… Mikey, when he falls, he falls hard, yeah? And I can tell that you’re not some bitch out to hurt him or nothin’.”

You chuckled at his agitation. 

“Nah… I’m just some Basic Beef, remember?” you said softly. 

Richie snorted and nodded his head. 

“But seriously, thank you, Richie. I’m glad that he has someone looking out for him… But yeah…” You looked towards the door leading to the kitchen. “Mikey, he… I just really, really like him”, you stated with a smile that you knew revealed how smitten you were by the man. 

Richie nodded again with a small smile.

“Yeah…” He finally cleared his throat and waved towards the kitchen. “Right… Go ahead… And please, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah? Remember, kitchen, sanitary measures.” 

You groaned and shoved at his arm. Now, that was what you had expected. “Don’t be gross, Jerimovich.” 

You heard him laughing as you walked towards the kitchen. 

Stepping through the door, you looked around at the rows of appliances, pots, and pans, while you hung your coat and bag on a hook near the staff door. As you moved to the deepest part, you found Mikey in front of the stove, with three large pots bubbling away on it. 

“Hey,” you said softly, coming to stand next to him with your hip against the counter as you faced his profile. 

Mikey lifted his head from one of the pots he’d been leaning over and stirring, his hair curling at the top from the steam. He beamed as he saw you. 

“Hey. Richie gone yet?”

“No, not yet. There was still a table left. He said he’d close the front and leave from there.”

Mikey looked towards where the front of the shop was, as if he could see Richie, and smiled.  

“Smells delicious in here,” you said after a second, staring at the insides of the pots. 

Mikey grinned. “Making the last batch of pulled pork and beef.” 

You made a long hum of appreciation at that, which had Mikey uttering a pleased chuckle. 

“Can I help you with anything?” you wondered, looking around yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. There ain’t much left to do except wait a bit, but…” he trailed off like earlier. 

You tilted your head in question. He was being incredibly tentative tonight, which was kind of cute. “But?” 

Mikey shot you a small glance and cleared his throat. 

“Just wanted to see you for a bit longer.” 

You ducked your head and smiled. While Mikey had flirted with you intensely over the last weeks, it had all been done in a lighthearted fashion. The interest had been genuine, but it had never been this open. This confession was raw and hit you straight in the heart. 

“Yeah? Well… While I love the food you guys make here, you know that’s not really what has me coming back every time.”

Mikey smiled warmly, before he smirked. “C’est mon cul, pas vrai? (It’s my ass, right?)”

“Ah non mais t’es pas possible, arrête. (Oh come on, you’re the worst, stop it),” you half groaned, half laughed while pushing at his shoulder. 

Mikey laughed heartily and caught your hand as he turned to face you fully. You looked into his eyes, filled with mirth, but also something so tender that it took your breath away. 

“Wanna know something embarrassing about me?” he asked in a soft tone. 

You nodded lightly, your heart in your throat and unable to speak with the way he was looking at you.

“J’avais déjà envie de t’embrasser le jour où on s’est rencontré. (I already wanted to kiss you on the day we met.)”

Your heart missed a beat before it started to beat faster. 

“Alors pourquoi tu ne l’as pas encore fait? (Then why haven’t you done it yet?)” you breathed. 

Mikey smiled and cupped one side of your face with a large and warm palm. “Bonne question. (Good question.),” he whispered, before slowly leaning in. 

Your eyes automatically fell shut when his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, just his lips pressing onto yours, as if testing the waters. You lifted your hands to his waist, your fingers gripping at his t-shirt as you slanted your head in request for more. Mikey huffed out a small breath against your lips, and moved in closer, giving you what you wanted. His hand went to the back of your head, with the fingers sliding into your hair as he parted your lips with his. You moaned at the first, soft stroke of his tongue against your bottom lip, just grazing the skin teasingly before he delved in further. Your fingers tightened in his shirt as the kiss turned into something more. More intense. Hungrier. Leaning against the stove, Mikey’s other hand went to the middle of your back, pulling you as close together as possible. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his chest and clung to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You suddenly felt ridiculous about ever thinking that you didn’t have any issues with just seeing where this thing with Mikey was going, since you had clearly underestimated how much you actually wanted this. Wanted him. And from how he was kissing you, holding you so tightly against him, the feeling was unmistakably mutual. 

You couldn’t say how long you stood there, locked together, with no signs of letting up, but you were pulled out of the moment by the pots suddenly bubbling wildly. Mikey cursed while you gasped, the two of you springing apart to see the contents of the pots sputtering around and almost starting to overflow. Jumping into action instantly, Mikey turned the heat down and stirred the pots while muttering under his breath. 

Once everything was under control again, Mikey held himself up with his hands on the counter and exhaled deeply as he turned his head towards you. 

“I think my ass is responsible for this too… I turned the heat back on high when I leaned against the stove,” he explained sheepishly. 

You stared at him for a second, before you burst into laughter, while he watched you with an amused smile. 

“You know,” you said lightly and stepped into his space again, wrapping your arms around his neck while he circled your waist with his. “I think I need to take some responsibility for this too.”

“Hm… you did distract me,” Mikey agreed with a chuckle, and leaned in to kiss you.

You grinned against his mouth, the kiss about to continue like you’d never been interrupted, when Mikey forcefully leaned his head away with a grunt and kissed your forehead instead. 

“Okay… let’s just…”

“Am I distracting you again,” you laughed softly, looking into his warm, brown eyes. 

“You have no idea,” he confessed, pulling you into a hug this time. 

You smiled into the embrace and took in a deep breath, staying in this position for a few long minutes.

“Rentre avec moi? (Come home with me?)” you finally asked, although you kept your face against his shoulder. 

Mikey cupped your face and tilted your head until he could look into your eyes, revealing his warm gaze. 

“Avec plaisir. (It would be my pleasure.)”

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Alternate ending where SQH presses the return home button after yelling at MBJ + I somehow turned it into a slightly happier ending(this was supposed to end with SQH being alone till he dies)(bro never moves on)

but in this oneshot, he becomes a part of the Shen family.

Mobei-Jun mourning SQH’s body… imagine…

The moment he presses on the button, he felt his heart sink with the glow surrounding him.

He was going back to his body, which was equivalent to dying. Turning to his icy surroundings, light snow falling onto the tip of his fingers, his knees unbuckle as he fell to the floor.

“I—“

—

He regrets it, he really does. He shoud have just stayed in the other world. There, at least he knows how to escape the life he had, he knows people who would care about him even if he had run away (at least, he hoped so?)

here, there was no one. His parents didn’t care about him, they’d already moved on with new families in their lives. They hadn’t even bat an eye when they found out his body was a coma.

Shang Qinghua shivered in his hospital bed, tears slipping down his cheeks, he couldn’t even let out a sound.

It was cold. It was empty. His arms were bandaged heavily, they’d told him that he had severe burns because of the fact that there was hot water when it happened.

He couldn’t write; Proud Immortal Demon Way had already ended. He… just really…lacked the motivation to ever write again. Without his most passionate fan, without his king or his martial siblings… it’s unbearable. Losing the trust of everyone he knew was heart breaking enough, but they— they had forgiven him for his final moments.

They’d let him back into the sect—! Liu Qingge had grinned at him, after all that. Mu Qingfang allowed him to nap in the medical room whenever things got too hectic—heck! Yue Qingyuan visited his peak for friendly conversation and tea!

Shang Qinghua had given all of that up, and for what???

He didn’t know any more….

Haaa…. His anxiety and fear had gotten the best of him.

There was no Cucumber bro to critique his 3000+ chapter novel, there were no ice kings to force him to stop working in the middle of the night because of his health.

It was just him. Just Luo Meihua. The useless idiot.

A mistake he made, and he will never ever be able to see his family again.

Shen Qingqiu was right, Shang Qinghua was an idiot.

—

“Hey..” A quiet feminine voice pulls him out from the grasp of sleep, his heavy eyes open wearily as he tries to focus on the new figure. It wasn’t one of those nurses. The girl was wearing a very blue casual outfit, blue sweater, blue jeans, and even a blue purse.

….?

He squinted. Did he know her..??

He knew this wasn’t one of his half siblings, they were much younger than he was. “Hh….” He tried hard to say something, but a year of unuse made it hard to say the right words.

“It’s okay! Uhm, you don’t need to speak! I’m sure you’re wondering who I am?”

Shang Qinghua nodded minutely.

“My name is Shen Yang. Do you remember the story you wrote?”

He grimaced, giving her a pained look, he knew by now how shitty it was, please don’t make him talk about it??? I mean, there was some good parts but if he could, he wouldn’t have made A Ding as the sole logistics peak!!!

Wait.. “Shen..?”

She laughs slightly, mistaking his question for something else, “Mm, my brother was Peerless Cucumber, he went into a coma like you did, one year ago. If you knew him, anyway. He hated your novel.”

No wonder she looked familiar—!

But.. huh…? How did she know he was in a coma? How did she know he was here.

He tried to convey that to her with his raised eyebrow.

“We… uhm. Originally, we wanted to personally talk to you, since… we found A—Yuan’s notes in his computer. It was more critiques about the novel,” Shang Qinghua stifled a fond laugh, Ahh, Cucumber bro… “…and so… we found out you were in a coma, just like my brother.”

—

Shen Family: finds out Airplane is in a coma and they visit him once

Shen Yang is also a volunteer at the hospital, just so she can visit Shen Yuan more often. So occasionally, she watches Airplane’s coma body, wondering what kind of person he was to write PIDW

sometimes she writes and reads it out to Shen Yuan because she knows he loved stories, even if they sucked

When Airplane wakes up and they both realise he has no home anymore,

(“Your parents..?”

Shang Qinghua shook his head and laughed bitterly, “it’s not like they visited me at all.”)

So she persuades her parents to let him stay at the house (they refuse at first, like, airplane’s a stranger, and they’re still mourning Shen Yuan)

But eventually, they pittied him and allowed him to stay.

(“I promise I’ll pay you back, thank you so much for your kindness!!!”)

After all his trauma, he becomes the quiet kid, no silly rambles, and without any system forcing him on any missions, he becomes so so antsy, so he just takes on a lot of responsibilities and becomes sick and is super miserable until Shen Family takes an intervention

Eventually they get attached to SQH and help him get therapy. And it doesn’t actually help much, he couldn’t talk about his transmigration trauma at all

BUT he admits the little things, like his parents’ emotional neglect and accidentally mentions something like “I’m used to getting beat up. I’m used to everyone pushing their work onto me.”

Which is concerning in modern society,, like,,, why is he used to getting beat up 3 times a day

Bro just really hates himself

But one day, maybe after a few long months, the light in his eyes return and he gets into a rant again and Shen Yang just remembers his brother, Shen Yuan, and sees him in SQH and

man

Shen Yang shares stories about his brother to SQH

(“He sucked at sewing.” )

( “Shut up, Airplane… Sewing is harder than it looks.” Shen Qingqiu glared at him.)