#otp: longing glances

[pinkvbay]

It's incredible what happens out of the pov of the camera, flycam is a god sent

[ilikedetectives]

I don't ask for much. Or for anything. You know, the world's not fair on a good day. You and me, Rook. We chase trouble. So what can we ask for?

[anghraine]

kjfd;jkadj my last two posts collided in my mind—the one I just posted, about Kirk and Uhura not only caring intensely about each other behind their professional personas, but also handling said personas in essentially similar, synergistic ways as communications and commanding officer + the ramble last night about how I haven't yet found a fic that takes up the concept of Kirk making a fantastic psychologist (I've only seen direct role-reversals with him and Spock thus far) that's mentioned all the way back in S1 of TOS.

The psychologist!Kirk post basically split into two scenarios which I babbled more about in tags: one where Spock is captain, most likely of an all-Vulcan Starfleet vessel like the Intrepid until Kirk is transferred to that ship as part of some human-Vulcan collaborative effort going on, and another where they're still on the Enterprise, with Spock remaining chief science officer and Kirk as head of the psychologists and counselors on board. The TOS psychologists are always science division, so in that version, it's Dr. Kirk answering to Spock (likely his direct superior would be McCoy but ~mysteriously he ends up working more directly with Spock).

But I did think idly, "I wonder who the captain would be if it's neither Kirk or Spock, the next in the canonical command chain is Scotty, but I don't see that at all, certainly not McCoy, I'm not sure Sulu is all that suited to it at this point—"

BUT UHURA. CAPTAIN UHURA. Her age is never mentioned in TOS and I don't care about anything else for these purposes, but iirc Nichelle Nichols was actually close in age to Nimoy and Shatner, so it doesn't beggar belief that she could have gotten so far, so fast. And her professional accord with Kirk makes her a less plot-disruptive choice than someone really dissimilar like, idk, Pike or whomever.

SO. In this scenario, Spock is Captain Uhura's unflappable chief science officer/XO, Kirk is essentially her Troi (still virtually psi-null—just an incredibly incisive and adaptable judge of people and perfectly ready to share his observations with Uhura), Scotty is still living his best life communing with the warp drive, and McCoy is basically unchanged.

Kirk's notoriously demanding class at the Academy (implied to be a philosophy one in TOS) was an ethics course informed by his specialization. Elizabeth Dehner worked directly with him before, well, events, and he's along on the attempt to stop Mitchell and Dehner. The "Dagger of the Mind" mission is an Uhura-Kirk field trip. Uhura defies Starfleet to get Spock to Vulcan without even knowing why—Spock won't explain and Kirk won't break his confidence, but she knows whose judgment she values most and her trusted chief counselor >>>> some asshole admiral. Uhura also goes on a bunch of planetary exploration missions as captain, still in her mini-skirt and boots and winged eyeliner (though her clothes don't get torn quite as much as Kirk's), and is a natural diplomat who is not above a) lies or b) fighting if necessary. Something like "The Corbomite Maneuver" is resolved largely the same way, for instance.

Spock and Kirk still play chess games that Spock more often loses, but this regularly happens in the science labs. McCoy and Kirk are still old friends and regularly talk shop with some mildly illegal beverages involved. Uhura is split into Good Uhura and Evil Uhura that one time but is also still the one to bring the tribbles onboard.

I'm going back to outlining my f/f K/S AU but. do you see the vision

[tidewithjade]

So usually in my HSS playthroughs I have Rosalyn straight away tell Ace to come to her school in the end… buuuuuut I’m considering an alternate route where she angrily tells him she never wants to see his face again (she doesn’t fully mean it she’s in her feelings and still justifiably upset with him), and when she goes home she’s convincing herself that it’s for the best for both of them.

But she’s keeping a mental calendar of the days until Ace is set to fly out to Manila for good. It’s all she can think about over the weekend while hanging out with friends or in class trying to do school work.

And then on the day of, she’s rushing to the airport, hoping and praying it’s not too late. She finds him alone, approaching the security gate when she stops him with a Vita Nova enrollment form in her hand…

[fleurriee]

— cat’s out of the bag ; spencer reid

pairing ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; you thought you and spencer were good at keeping your relationship a secret. spoiler alert: you weren’t.

themes ; fluff, established (secret) relationship

warnings ; none!

author’s note ; first time writing for spencer after having watched criminal minds. i’m in love with him so it was only fitting that my mind starts coming up with ideas for him — send in requests for spencer!!!!

main masterlist request a fic

You and Spencer had agreed on one thing when your relationship first started:

“Let’s keep it just between us for a while.”

Not because you were ashamed — far from it — but, because the BAU wasn’t exactly known for being a quiet, private place. The second Garcia caught wind of anything remotely romantic, you’d both be wearing couple t-shirts and getting shipped like characters from a CW drama.

And, it was nice for a while.

You lasted four months.

It started with a coffee cup.

Specifically, the one with Spencer’s name on it, sitting at your desk.

Morgan strolled in that morning with his usual swagger and an armful of case files. He was halfway through a yawn when he spotted the cup and froze mid-step.

“Hey, Pretty Girl?” he called over his shoulder. “Why’s Reid’s name on your latte?”

You didn’t even look up from your desk. “Oh. He picked it up for me.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes like a detective in an old noir film. “And when did Reid start remembering your custom order down to the almond milk and two pumps of caramel?”

You finally looked up. “I… mention it a lot?”

Morgan snorted. “Okay.”

The next day, he walked into the breakroom to find Spencer standing very close behind you, reaching for the same muffin. There was laughter — soft, easy — and then Spencer let you have it with the kind of look that didn’t belong in any HR-safe workplace.

Morgan didn’t say a word. Just walked out with his coffee, grinning.

“Gotcha, Boy Genius.”

Penelope Garcia’s superpower wasn’t her hacking skills — (though, yes, she could probably access the Pentagon with a shoelace and a floppy disk) — it was her intuition. Especially when it came to anything involving hearts, unspoken feelings, or long looks across briefing tables.

So when she noticed Reid texting someone with a tiny, goofy smile on his face during lunch, her curiosity sparked.

She sidled up next to him.

“Who ya texting, Dr. Reid?” she sing-songed, peeking at his screen before he could lock it.

He jumped. “N-no one. Just… a friend.”

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you call Y/N ‘sunbeam’?”

Reid’s face turned the color of a fire hydrant. “It’s — it’s just a nickname. She — uh — likes the sun.”

“Mmhmm.” Garcia leaned in. “Reid… are you dating my girl?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let out a tiny shriek, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! My OTP is real!”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

To her credit, Garcia didn’t spill — not yet.

But the sparkle in her eye was pure chaos.

Prentiss wasn’t nosy — she was observant.

So when you came into work with what looked like Spencer’s scarf around your neck and a sleepy smile that screamed I didn’t sleep in my own bed, she raised an eyebrow.

But she didn’t say anything until a week later.

The team had just wrapped a case in Portland and were gathered at the airport. You and Spencer were seated across from each other at the gate, trying — and failing — not to play footsie under the chairs.

Prentiss watched the whole thing, sipping her coffee like it was a reality show.

Later, on the plane, she slid into the seat next to you.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

She tilted her head toward Spencer, who was sitting two rows ahead, hunched over a book — but not before sending a not-so-subtle glance back your way.

Prentiss smirked. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I recognize the ‘pretending not to stare at my crush’ look.”

You flushed. “It’s not like we’re hiding it — ”

“But you are,” she said, patting your arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you come out in your own time. Just… maybe don’t play footsie where Rossi can see. He’s got surprisingly good peripheral vision.”

You genuinely thought Rossi wouldn’t notice.

He was older, more focused — a man who’d seen it all. Surely, he wouldn’t pick up on subtle glances or the way Spencer’s hand lingered on your back a little too long after briefings.

You were wrong.

He invited you both over to his house for dinner, claiming he was “trying a new risotto recipe and needed test subjects.”

The moment he caught you stealing a bite from Spencer’s plate with zero hesitation, he set down his wine glass and gave a slow, smug smile.

“Interesting.”

You froze mid-chew. “What is?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching young love blossom over truffle risotto.”

Spencer choked on his wine.

You coughed. “What makes you think —?”

“Please,” Rossi waved a hand. “I’ve written three books on behavioral profiling. You think I can’t tell when two people are secretly dating?”

You opened your mouth.

He held up a finger. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Just know I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

You both gaped.

He raised his wine glass. “Eventually, of course.”

Hotch was the final boss.

You and Spencer had been very careful around him — no lingering looks in the field, no brushing hands in the briefing room, no coordinated lunches. You were practically platonic professionals around him.

Until he caught you.

It happened at 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the team had already left, and you and Spencer were still in the conference room, finishing paperwork.

You thought you were alone.

So, when Spencer reached over and laced his fingers through yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, you let your guard down for just a moment.

And Hotch walked in.

He stopped mid-step.

You both froze like teenagers caught making out on a porch.

Hotch blinked once. “Should I… come back?”

You yanked your hands apart. “No! We were just — ”

“Finishing paperwork,” Spencer blurted. “Very platonically.”

Hotch raised a brow. “You were kissing her hand.”

Spencer blinked. “Right. Well… not that platonically.”

There was a long pause.

Hotch sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just — no PDA at crime scenes, okay?”

You both nodded, mortified.

As he left, you could swear you saw him smirk.

You didn’t plan to tell everyone. At least, not in one grand announcement.

But the BAU had other plans.

It happened during a rare, sunny weekend BBQ hosted at Rossi’s estate. Everyone was scattered across the lawn — beer bottles in hand, kids running around, music playing.

You were helping Garcia string lights along the fence when she casually said, “So, when are you and Reid going to make it official-official?”

You nearly dropped the string of lights. “What?”

She pointed. “Oh, don’t play coy, sweet pea. Everyone knows.”

You blinked. “Everyone?”

Morgan, walking by with a burger, grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve had bets running for weeks.”

Prentiss added, “Morgan owes me twenty bucks. I said you’d crack before Valentine’s Day.”

Rossi raised his glass. “Cheers to the happy couple.”

Even Hotch gave you a nod that could only be described as… warm.

You turned to Spencer, who looked equally horrified and relieved.

“They all know?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Apparently for a while.”

Garcia beamed. “What gave it away? Everything.”

You and Spencer exchanged a look.

Then you both laughed — loud, breathless, incredulous.

So much for secrets.

Later, as the party mellowed into dusk and someone lit a bonfire, Spencer pulled you close beneath the string lights.

“Do you think it’s weird… that I’m kind of relieved?”

You looked up at him. “Relieved they found out?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… I don’t have to keep something good hidden anymore.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not something I want to hide, Spencer.”

He looked at you then, all soft eyes and quiet awe.

Even in a team of profilers, even under the most watchful eyes — you and Spencer had managed something rare.

A love worth noticing.

[wendichester]

hey gurl would you do a part 2 to a crush pls?? it may or may not have been me that requested it 🤣 could you maybe write it so he ends up asking her out on a date or they end up having a movie night in/home date kinda thing?? maybe they cook together or something?? i trust your decision because your writing is amazing 🩷

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ a crush²,

summary. sam has a crush and finally has the guts to do something about it.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcout. 701

notes. okay, but you're slowly but steadily becoming my otp. and I could see this turning out into a full-blown 50k fic

𓂃⋆.˚ part 1

Later that night, Sam finds himself pacing in the kitchen, trying to summon the courage to follow Dean’s advice. The idea of asking you out feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, heart pounding and unsure if the leap will end in flight or a crash.

“You’re overthinking it,” Dean says from the doorway, arms crossed as he leans casually against the frame. “Just do it already.”

Sam glares at him. “Could you not?”

Dean smirks but holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine. But if you wait too long, you’ll miss your shot.”

Sam groans, running a hand through his hair. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and takes a deep breath. Before he can talk himself out of it, he heads to the library, where he finds you exactly where you were earlier—feet up on the couch, headphones back on, and nose buried in the journal.

This time, though, he doesn’t linger at the edge of the room. He clears his throat, and when you glance up, he flashes you a small, nervous smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

You pull your headphones down, giving him your full attention. “What’s up, Sammy?”

He shifts awkwardly, his fingers gripping the water bottle like it’s a lifeline. “I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to… hang out tonight. Just the two of us.”

Your brow quirks, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Hang out? Like a date?”

The question catches him off guard, but he nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Like a date.”

Your smile softens, and you close the journal, setting it aside. “I’d like that.”

Relief floods him, and he offers a lopsided grin. “Great. How about we make dinner? Together?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, standing and stretching. “But just so you know, I’m rubbish in the kitchen.”

He chuckles, the tension in his shoulders easing. “That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

A short while later, the two of you are in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and debating the proper way to season a sauce. Sam works with practiced ease, and you do your best to follow his instructions, though you can’t resist sneaking tastes or cracking jokes to keep things light.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, watching him stir a pot with effortless grace.

He glances at you, his cheeks faintly pink. “I had to learn. Dean and I didn’t exactly grow up eating gourmet meals.”

“Still,” you say, leaning against the counter, “you make it look easy.”

Sam shrugs, a shy smile playing on his lips. “It’s nice to share it with someone.”

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the air between you feels heavier.

After dinner is ready, you settle in the living room, plates balanced on your laps as a movie plays softly in the background. You’ve both kicked off your boots, and somewhere along the way, you ended up leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “It is.”

When the movie ends, neither of you moves. The warmth of his presence, the way his fingers trace absent patterns over your leg—it’s all too comforting to break.

“Sam?” you say after a while.

“Yeah?”

You tilt your head to look at him, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Thanks for tonight. I needed this.”

He smiles back, his hazel eyes warm and tender. “Me too.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. His breath catches, and when you pull back, he’s staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

“I really like you,” he says suddenly, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Your grin widens, and you tug him closer, your foreheads touching. “Good,” you whisper. “Because I really like you too.”

He kisses you then, slow and sweet, and it feels like the world has finally clicked into place.

That night, as you both clean up the kitchen and settle back on the couch for another movie, it’s clear that this is just the beginning of something good—something real.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups

[lavenderotpprompts]

🍊Road Trip Prompts🍊

Imagine your OTP going on a roadtrip. Who usually drives and who is the passenger princess?

Person A and Person B are about to set out on a long roadtrip. Person A shows off all the practical things they packed such as tissues, phone chargers, water, etc. while Person B eagerly shows that the only things they packed are bags full of snacks.

Imagine your OTP blasting 2000s pop songs and singing loudly with the windows down as they drive.

Who has to stop to pee every hour and who has a bladder of steel?

Imagine your OTP late into a long drive. The sun has set and the only lights are those on the highway and the soft glow of the moon. Person B tried to stay awake to keep Person A company as they drove, but the lull of the road quickly pulled them into sleep. Person A periodically glances over, smiling every time they see Person B scrunched up and sleeping peacefully in the dark.

[jvnluaa]

That's My Man... You Just Don't Know It Yet

It was a typical Thursday afternoon in the university library.

Rain pattered softly against the windows, the kind of lazy, gentle drizzle that made you want to bury yourself in a blanket burrito and binge your favorite boys love series with a bucket of popcorn and tissues.

But alas—midterms.

Kurapika sat across from you, his posture straight as always, pen gliding over his notes in that annoyingly perfect way. Leorio sat next to him, scribbling on a wrinkled worksheet with a half-dead pencil, groaning under his breath about how capitalism had robbed him of sleep and his will to live.

You, on the other hand, were leaning precariously far over your phone screen, not studying.

Because what were midterms, really, in the face of real priorities? Priorities like:

“Look at them,” you whispered dramatically, showing them your screen. “Just LOOK.”

Leorio blinked. “The hell is this?”

Kurapika squinted. “Are those… animated versions of us?”

“YES,” you grinned. “It’s fanart.”

Kurapika’s pen froze mid-word.

Leorio leaned over to inspect it. “…Are we kissing?”

“YESSS!” you squealed, clapping softly so the librarian wouldn’t kick you out again. “Isn’t it so romantic?! The tension! The longing! The forbidden chemistry between the principled honor student and the secretly sweet med major—”

“I’m not sweet,” Leorio muttered.

“Shut up, Leorio. You totally are,” you said, scrolling. “This artist has a whole AU where you’re both mafia enemies-turned-lovers. The slow burn! The angst! Kurapika gets SHOT and—”

Kurapika finally closed his notebook.

“Do you… read this sort of thing often?” he asked, voice even.

You didn’t look up, completely absorbed. “Oh god, all the time. BL is my lifeblood. You and Leorio are my OTP.”

Kurapika stared at you.

You smiled, dreamy and unaware. “Like… the way you look at each other? I felt that. That’s love.”

Leorio looked up. “Wait, what way do we look at each other?”

Kurapika didn’t answer.

Because he knew exactly what kind of look you meant.

He had looked at Leorio like that once—years ago—when they were still figuring out what kind of bond they had. But that look had long since shifted.

It only happened now when he looked at you.

When you fell asleep in study sessions, pen still clutched in your hand.
When you held his wrist during thunderstorms, eyes wide but trusting.
When you ranted about manga with stars in your eyes and asked him what kind of uke he thought he’d be—

(He didn’t even know what an uke was until you explained it with charts.)

And still, he said nothing.
Because you only ever saw him through the lens of your delusions.
Delusions where he and Leorio were passionately in love and sneaking kisses behind library shelves while you watched, teary-eyed, from the bushes.

You smiled at him again, oblivious.

“You guys are literally soulmates. It’s okay,” you whispered, like it was a comfort. “I’ll always support you.”

Kurapika wanted to scream.
He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and say: “No, you idiot. I’ve never once looked at Leorio the way I look at you. Every ‘longing glance’ you keep projecting onto him—those are for YOU. You are the one I think about when I lie awake at night. You’re the one I would take a bullet for. You’re the one I want to kiss behind the library shelves.”

But all he said was:

“…I see.”

You leaned your cheek against your hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I know you’re subtle with your feelings.”

Kurapika looked at you.
You looked at Leorio’s doodle on your folder cover, hearts surrounding it.
Leorio burped quietly and asked if you wanted to get ramen after this.

And Kurapika thought: God, this is hell.

BONUS: Later That Night, In Kurapika’s Room

He stared blankly at the ceiling, wearing a hoodie you had accidentally left behind.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from you:

Y/N: look what I just made!! [image attachment]
Y/N: it’s a collage of you and Leorio’s moments. I cried while making it. You’re welcome.

He closed his eyes. Inhaled.

Exhaled.

Clutched your hoodie to his chest.

“…I’m going to die,” he muttered.

[guitarstringed-scars]

chat is this real?- wow our fans are so talented!

masterlist

latest video: we fell in love on total drama roblox

itsyn is live: holding a talent show w/ atsumu! otherwise known as judging our fans.

welcome to the chat room!

ynnumberonefan: this is going so poorly

catlovermeow: tell kuroo to make a twitch!

juju23: y/n please why does no one have talent

“okay atsumu, next up from our fan talents is mia, she will be doing a peter griffin impression!!!” you say, laughing slightly into the mic. ”what? does that even count as a talent?” you hears atsumus concerned voice on the other end of the call.

“i guess we’ll be the judges of that!” you switch the viewer into the voice call.

“hi mia! we are so ready to hear your peter griffin impression.” as you speak, you adjusts the clip-on tie on her shirt. the outfit you picked out for this stream is a tuxedo t-shirt, paired with the aforementioned clip on tie, along with a top hat. you’ve been calling it business casual.

“oh my god this is so crazy, hi! such a big fan.” the new fan in the call speaks. you’ve heard this speech plenty of times now, being an hour into the stream. atsumu and you thought it would be funny to have fans show off their talents, but you didn’t really think hard enough about the whole fan part.

“so nice to meet you mia! alright, lets hear your talent.” you say.

the girl goes into an atrocious peter griffin impression, and as it continues for a moment to long, atsumu quickly cuts her off.

“that was amazing! thanks!” he quickly removes her from the call, bursting out laughing. ”that was top ten for sure, for sure!” you laughs, slight tears forming in your eyes.

as you laughs, you take a quick glance at your phone sitting by her mouse.

the screen lights up, a message from kuroo.

”alright, next talent is singing from K?” you say, laughing slightly, adding kuroo into the call.

“hi!!!!!” he says with a high pitched shaky voice.

“holy shit.” atsumu says, giggling a bit.

“why are you laughing???” kuroo asks, genuine concern in his voice. this gets you, and soon you are laughing too.

“w-what is your talent, um, k?” you choke out between giggles.

“singing!” his high pitched voice is full of joy, and you glance at the chat.

pinkywinky48: hello what is happening?????

user562: oh hellllllllll nahhahhahhahah

imdbbear: this is bad and they havent even started singing yet…..

kuroo quickly goes into his song, horribly out of tune and pitchy. you and atsumu lose it completely, and you can hear kuroos voice cracking as he tries to hold himself together.

“the end!” he says, finally finished.

“oh wow. with a voice like that i’m sure you have a beautiful face to match it! can you turn on face cam??” you ask, leaning into the webcam closer.

kuroo quickly switches the web cam on, revealing his face smiling at the camera.

“bro what the hell?” atsumu says, surprised by the reveal. this makes kuroo laugh harder.

tinytimp: KUROO

didimcgee: KUROO IS BACK OMG

ynfan22: my otp and atsumu HAHAHA

imbdbear: oh he ate down

“ok bye guys stream over, kuroo wins.” you say, quickly ending the stream, but not the call. ”oh thank god i could not listen to another fan try and sing for real.” atsumu says.

“i thought it would be a good idea but none of them were good.” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“i was good though right?” kuroo asks, laughing a bit.

“most entertaining thats for sure.” you say.

“nonono, peter griffin impression was better.” atsumu chimes in.

“ohhhh yeah you right.”

“ugh i gotta go to practice.” atsumu groans.

“just quit volleyball.” you say.

“no. ball is life!” he cheerfully leaves the call, leaving you and kuroo alone.

“so, you broke onto kenmas pc again?” you ask.

“nah, i asked this time.” kuroo laughs.

“and he let you???”

“surprisingly. i’m thinking i might get one of my own. i’m considering pursuing a career in dress to impress.” he jokes.

“wait whats your ranking?” you ask.

“i’m only a rising star but i have like 150 stars.” he says.

“you are such a flop oh my god, lets play right now, i’ll cook you.”

“big talk for someone wearing a tuxedo t-shirt.”

“it’s business casual, big guy. you just don’t get fashion like i do.”

“uh huh. i’ll smoke you lets go.” he taunts.

you quickly log onto roblox, joining the game.

after an hour and a half, you’ve beat kuroo 97% of the time.

“jeez, its already 9:30.” he says from his position on the podium (3rd place).

“past your bedtime?” you joke.

“nah, past the time i should’ve probably left kenmas room though. i’m gonna log off.”

“alright.” you say.

“i’ll text you though.” he smiles at the webcam.

"sounds good. night kuroo.” you smile back.

"goodnight y/n.”

𖦹₊⊹fun facts⊹₊𖦹

-kuroo has gained lots and lots of followers since his first appearance

-he's still adjusting to his newfound fame, but he enjoys the attention

-and the new friends

taglist: @mollyrolls @ncitygreen @giocriedpower @whorefornoodles @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses

@altyx @zumicho @wyrcan @causenessus @s1ckntw1st3d

@acowboykisser @whenanafallsinlove @aurelia1011 @solaqes @atsumuenthusiast

@mysteriousballer1na @wizardhore @nyasstars @miiyas @secretsunsetsociety

@urmmomisgay @rivuvi @csbnova @peqch3rry @jaynawayna @beepbeepyddgjj

@certaindreampost @just-coreee @stargirllost @kodzu-ken @tojirin

@kuroomikasavolleyball @hunnies4bunnies @viscoolreal @spicana @tsukistopglazer

@lyqiche @mfcherry @lifesucksweswallow @gsyche @etherialtears

@haikyuusunsalad @moucheslove @savemebrazilhinata @itsdragonius @keelsforreals

@akaakeis

[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[redvexillum]

A/N: FoxDicker, my OTP has returned. Tagging @redfoxwritesstuff as she continues to be in denial of how much she actually loves Adam. I'm also currently away right now, so please leave a message, after this beep. Except Kit. Kit. You stay away.

SUMMARY: On Christmas Day, you had the perfect holiday planned with Adam, eager to enjoy the festivities together. But everything went off course the moment Adam decided to surprise you with a visit to Loo Loo Land—the most cursed amusement park ever created.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, soft!adam, adam tries his best, cunnilingus, exhibitionist, loo loo land is mid, reader is a fox sinner, foxdicker is the official ship name, fluffy-wuffy

Your body lay sprawled across the bed, each shaky breath drawing in the cool air that kissed your sweat-slicked skin. The sheets clung to you, damp and tangled from the primal activity that had unfolded moments before. Every nerve felt alive, thrumming as though you were a live wire, sparking and overstimulated. You turned your head, languidly, to find Adam beside you—his chest heaving, his goofy grin painted on his face like a masterpiece of satisfaction. 

It was Christmas Day, and unlike last year, where he’d thrown a surprise party so loud and chaotic you’d considered kicking him out from your shared apartment, Adam had done the unthinkable: he’d listened. He’d agreed to keep things quiet, just the two of you. You’d envisioned the day perfectly—a warm breakfast at the quaint café down the street, twinkling with holiday cheer, followed by decorating the apartment to make it truly feel like Christmas for once. 

But the morning had other plans. 

You’d barely stirred awake when you felt him—Adam, radiating heat like a furnace, his morning wood pressing insistently against your stomach. The smug waggle of his brows told you everything you needed to know about his intentions. You’d opened your mouth to protest, to remind him of the plans, but all coherent thought dissolved the moment he ground against you, slow and deliberate, before pressing a feather light kiss to your cheek. 

And that was all it took. 

Fuck, you really do fold like a soggy newspaper. 

One moment, you were swaddled in the promise of a productive morning; the next, pyjamas were discarded—well, yours anyway, considering Adam always slept naked—and you were a mess of limbs, moans, and relentless desire. The way his body moved against yours, how his hands gripped your hips as if you were his anchor to the world, sent you spiralling into a haze of pleasure. You swore he lived for moments like this, bending you in ways that made your back scream in protest, your knees practically kissing your ears as he pounded into you. 

It was overwhelming, electric. 

Perfect. 

And yet, as the high ebbed, you muttered to yourself through a half-laugh, half-groan: You really need to work on your flexibility. 

The realization hit when you glanced at the clock. Breakfast was no longer an option—it was well past noon. “Lunch it is,” you murmured, voice hoarse but amused. A Christmas lunch date sounded far more reasonable anyway, especially since you were still trying to recover from the morning’s activity. 

Adam, though? He was utterly unbothered, lounging in the aftermath like a king who had conquered his kingdom. His arm lay lazily over his chest, that smug, silly grin still plastered across his face. 

You stared at him for a long moment, thoughts wandering, as they often did. Adam wasn’t exactly a paragon of reliability—Hell wasn’t known for its steady job market, after all—but his circumstances were… unique. When you’d first discovered who he was, the revelation had hit you like a slap. Adam. The Adam. The first man, the original sinner. The “original dick,” as he’d so eloquently put it mid-fuck one night. 

It explained so much—his cocky demeanour, the whispers behind his back, the reason no one seemed willing to hire him. The arguments that had erupted between the two of you when he refused to explain himself made more sense now, but even with the truth out in the open, you weren’t sure how to approach the topic. What could you say? Hey, babe, let’s talk about how you used to be the commander of a battalion of angels in charge of exterminating sinners for centuries every year has ruined your career prospects. 

Instead, you let the thoughts drift away like smoke. Slowly, you crawled closer to him, nestling yourself against his side. He let out a soft sigh, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, pulling you closer. For a moment, you stayed like that, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. 

Dating Adam was like navigating through a mall during a crazy Black Friday sale—you never knew if you’d be swept away by passion or sheer chaos. Most of your dates could hardly even be called dates, considering they usually ended with you screaming at him over some thoughtless blunder or outrageous stunt. Then, inevitably, he’d kiss the fight out of you, pressing your body against his until the world dissolved into breathless moans and shattering pleasure. By the time he was done with you, the anger always seemed so trivial. 

But this time, you wanted something different—something special. It was Christmas, after all, and you were determined to have a date you could treasure. One that didn’t devolve into arguments or excuses. Sure, the morning hadn’t gone to plan, but if the rest of the day went smoothly, you’d still consider it a win. 

“All right, big guy,” you said, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. Your tail swayed behind you, betraying your eagerness as you grinned. “We should get dressed and go out for lunch.” 

Adam leaned back against the headboard with a satisfied smirk, patting his stomach. “Aw, fuck yeah! I love lunch. Let’s get some back ribs.” His lips stretched into that crooked smile of his, the one that somehow managed to be both cocky and endearing. 

A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. Moments like this—when he wasn’t being infuriating or insufferable—you almost found him… cute. 

“But, babe,” Adam started, his voice casual as he stretched his arms over his head, “I got us tickets to Loo Loo Land for today. But, y’know, we don’t gotta go.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, though the hint of smugness in his tone said otherwise. 

Your ears twitched, catching his words, but it was the mention of tickets—Lu Lu Land tickets—that sent you bolting upright. Your tail wagged uncontrollably, thumping against the sheets as your smile stretched wide enough to hurt. 

“No way! Shut up!” you squealed, leaning forward with barely restrained excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go to Lu Lu Land! Those tickets are crazy expensive. Who did you kill to get your paws on them?” 

Adam basked in your attention, his smirk widening as he straightened up. “Got ’em for free, baby,” he said, voice dripping with pride. 

“What? No way!” Giddy laughter bubbled out of you as you practically leapt out of bed. “All right, baby, let’s hop in the shower then head to Lu Lu Land!” 

Adam’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he finally sat up, his gaze dipping to your bare body as his cock twitched with interest. “Round four?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, a devilish grin curling his lips. 

For once, though, you were too caught up in the thrill of the moment to be derailed by his antics. He’d actually planned something thoughtful—a romantic date to an amusement park on Christmas Day, no less. That realization sent a warmth blooming in your chest, making your smile grow even wider. 

“Better hurry,” you sang over your shoulder, giving him a playful wink before skipping toward the shower. The sound of his groan followed you, but you knew he wouldn’t be far behind. Today, against all odds, was going to be perfect. 

The shower stretched on until the water turned icy cold, but neither of you cared. Every moment was electric, every touch a spark igniting something primal and consuming. By the time you both stumbled out, bodies pressed together, breathless and grinning, you knew it was some of the best sex you’d had—so far, at least. 

Lu Lu Land didn’t live up to its reputation—or rather, the reputation you’d dreamed up in your mind. The place was a mess, more imps than you’d ever seen darting chaotically between rusting rides that looked like they’d collapse with a stiff breeze. Trash littered the grounds, and the attraction lights, with their flickering bulbs and gaping dark patches, gave the park a dilapidated, haunted feel. 

Strangely, the park was emptier than you expected for Christmas Day. Entire stands were shuttered and abandoned, their chipped paint and faded signs whispering tales of better days. It didn’t make sense to you. 

“This is Lu Lu Land?” you asked softly, your voice wavering as your heart sank. You didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but the disappointment was like a weight pressing on your chest. 

When you were younger, the idea of going to an amusement park felt magical, a dream just out of reach. But there was never enough money, and when adulthood came, life demanded everything you had—every dollar, every ounce of energy. The amusement parks of your childhood fantasies faded into the background as you scraped by, paycheck to paycheck. 

You swallowed hard against the lump rising in your throat. There were many regrets you carried, and this—never experiencing the whimsy and joy of a proper amusement park—was one of them. 

“Yep! This is Loo Loo Land!” Adam declared with his usual overconfidence, puffing out his chest and placing his fists on his hips like he was proud of the place. “Way better than that other shitty park, if you ask me!” 

You blinked once, then twice, as a lone flyer drifted on the breeze and landed against your leg. Frowning, you picked it up, your eyes scanning the brightly coloured text. The flyer advertised the park—but the name wasn’t “Lu Lu Land,” the famed amusement park of your dreams. It was Loo Loo Land. 

Your gaze darted around, taking in the off-brand chaos: the peeling paint on the “best attractions” sign, the cheap circus tent rising in the distance like a sad parody of fun. Realization hit like a bitch slap. This wasn’t the amusement park of your childhood dreams. This was the off-brand version—the amusement park equivalent of generic cereal in a plastic bag. 

You wanted to pout, to stamp your foot and demand answers, to yell at Adam for getting your hopes up. But the words never came. It wasn’t his fault you’d misunderstood. He’d said, “Loo Loo Land,” and you’d let your imagination and misunderstanding fill in the blanks. 

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look for the silver lining. Adam had thought of you. He’d gotten the tickets, however dubious their origin because he wanted to share something with you. And an amusement park was still an amusement park, right? You could still salvage this day, still create a happy memory to look back on. 

Swallowing your disappointment, you spun on your heel and met Adam’s gaze with a forced but hopeful smile. “Well, we might as well have fun, right?” 

The gleam in his eyes and his wolfish grin were enough to make your heart flutter. For a moment, you let yourself believe this would be a magical day, off-brand or not. 

But after an hour of sketchy rides, overpriced snacks that tasted like cardboard, and constant interruptions from screaming imps, you were ready to explode. This day wasn’t just off-brand—it was a disaster in the making. 

If there were awards for sheer determination to stay optimistic—or perhaps delusional—you were confident you’d win an Emmy. Hell, maybe even a Golden Globe. You kept up the facade, smiling through gritted teeth, convincing yourself that this off-brand nightmare could still be salvaged. But as the day dragged on, your resolve began to crack. 

For starters, the prices at this rundown park were ridiculous. A bag of popcorn cost nearly as much as a week’s worth of groceries. Still, you bit the bullet, wanting to embrace the experience. That was until you opened the bag to find cockroaches scuttling around your popcorn like they’d paid for admission, too. 

When you marched back to the stand, livid, the imp vendor had the audacity to deny everything. “Oh no, ma’am, those didn’t come from our popcorn,” he said, waving a clawed hand like you were being unreasonable. The gaslighting only fuelled your fury. Shoving the bag in his smug face, you unleashed a tirade. Behind you, Adam was doubled over, laughing so hard tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“Glad you’re enjoying the show!” you snapped at him, but your heart wasn’t in it. His laughter was annoyingly infectious, even if it made you want to smack him upside the head. 

After that fiasco, you decided to give the rides a try. Maybe they’d turn the day around. 

Big mistake. 

The first line you stood in—for a merry-go-round, no less—dragged on for over an hour. Just as it was your turn to board, the ride broke down. A loud groan of frustration escaped you, but you swallowed it back and told yourself there were other rides. 

And there were. 

...Like the Line Ride. 

It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize you’d been standing in line for another hour... only to find out the “ride” was the line. Just a joke at your expense. By then, your patience was paper-thin. If someone so much as sneezed in your direction, you were pretty sure you’d snap and stab a bitch. 

Adam, however, was in great spirits. “I’m having a great time,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I get to stare at your ass all day.” 

You shot him a glare, but it didn’t deter him. Every now and then, his hand would creep down to squeeze your backside, and you’d slap it away, muttering curses under your breath. 

Still, you clung to your fragile optimism. One ride. That’s all I need. One ride, and I can call this date passable. 

But then Adam whined, “We haven’t had lunch yet. I’m starving.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It was well past breakfast and lunch—closer to dinner, really. Your stomach growled in agreement, though your wallet, now painfully light, protested. “Fine,” you sighed. “Let’s eat. Maybe food will help.” 

That hope was short-lived. 

You approached the cleanest-looking stall in the food court, which wasn’t saying much. The imp behind the counter barely glanced at you as you ordered two BLT sandwiches. But then he reached back, scratching his ass with a gnarled claw, in plain view, before grabbing for the bread. 

The sight turned your stomach. You felt your appetite drain away like water from a sieve, replaced by sheer disgust. “Cancel my order,” you said, trying to stay calm. 

The imp ignored you, pretending not to hear as he continued assembling the sandwich with the same unwashed hands. “I said, cancel it! And give me my money back!” 

No response. Just that same vacant look as he slathered mayonnaise on the bread with all the enthusiasm of a corpse. 

Adam’s chuckle behind you made you whirl on him. “What’s so funny?” 

“Babe, you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he said, grinning ear to ear. 

Adorable? You wanted to scream. Instead, you turned back to the imp, eyes blazing. Today was supposed to be perfect.Perfect. Instead, you were standing in the middle of this trash heap of a park, ready to commit murder over a BLT. 

And it wasn’t even lunchtime anymore. 

You should have killed them. You wanted to—really wanted to. But instead, you unleashed every vile slur, every curse word you could think of, before walking away. 

As you took your first few steps away from the shabby food stall, a sudden collision threw you off balance. You stumbled into a young imp child, its chocolate ice cream splattering across your pristine white dress—the one you still had threepayments left to make on. You froze, eyes burning as the little imp cried over the loss of its treat, its pitiful wail cutting through the air. 

The weight of everything that had gone wrong that day pressed down on you, settling heavy on your chest. How had this happened? All you’d wanted was a perfect day with Adam. Just a few stolen moments of happiness, making memories together on Christmas Day. Instead, you were left with frustration, anger, and a gnawing feeling of disappointment that lingered, suffocating. 

Your eyes stung as the first wave of tears began to form. You wiped them away harshly, forcing yourself to smile, though the gesture felt hollow. You thrust a handful of change into the kid's hand, pushing him toward the ice cream stand, before stomping away, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill. 

You couldn't break down here—not in public. Not in a place like Loo Loo Land, of all places. 

You found the washroom in a haze, the door slamming shut behind you with a thud that echoed through the empty space. The tears came quicker now, too fast to stop. You twisted the faucet, water rushing out in a steady stream, but it did nothing to erase the stain on your dress. In fact, the more you tried to scrub it away, the worse it became. The stain spread like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The frustration bubbled over, tightening your chest as you fought to control the sobs threatening to escape. 

And then, that voice—Adam’s voice—cut through the chaos. 

"Babe," he said, his tone smooth and comforting, but somehow laced with an energy you knew all too well. 

"Adam!" You spun around quickly, wiping away the treacherous tear with the back of your wrist. You met his gaze, trying to hold it together, praying that your makeup wasn't ruined. "You shouldn’t be here," you started, but the words died in your throat as you caught sight of the men’s urinal beside you. Your shoulders slumped in a resigned groan. 

"I know what you need," Adam said with a grin, one that made your pulse quicken. Before you could protest, his strong arms encircled you, pulling you into the cramped stall with ease. 

The small space felt even tighter with him in it. His broad shoulders barely fit, his tall frame bending slightly to accommodate the imp-sized toilet. The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once—here you were, standing in a bathroom stall meant for imps, with Adam so close you could feel the heat of his body. You barely had enough room to breathe, let alone move. 

"I swear to fuck, Adam," you huffed, frustration tingling in your voice. "I’m not in the mood for this right now." 

But Adam wasn’t having it. His lips curled into a mischievous grin, and his fingers slid down to your hips with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "But babe, we haven't ridden anything yet. So, how about you ride my dick?" He waggled his brows, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "You can skip the line, VIP access, baby." 

Your body betrayed you. Despite the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside, despite the anger and the sadness, the pure audacity of his words made something else stir within you. His touch—gentle, yet confident—ignited a fire deep inside you. Your body responded without your permission, heat flooding to the places that had been craving him for far too long. 

And before you could think, you were giggling. It was absurd. His crass humour, the ridiculousness of this whole situation, was precisely the thing you needed. As you met his eyes, still twinkling with mischief, the tension in your body melted away. 

His grin widened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You can’t deny it," he whispered, the words heavy with promise. 

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering it, considering giving in to this madness. You let your eyes drift lower, catching the prominent bulge straining against his pants. 

With a lazy smile, you leaned in closer, your voice a seductive whisper. "I always wanted to ride roller coasters." Your fingers trailed down his body, unbuckling his pants with a slow, deliberate motion. "I want to feel my body thrown around with every twist and turn," you murmured, feeling his breath catch as your fingers brushed against his hard-on. 

You could hear his audible gulp, his body tense with anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Adam groaned, his voice low and desperate, and before you could even think to respond, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. His lips brushed the soft fabric of your dress, lips trailing upward as his head dipped beneath it, his mouth finding the curve of your panties. He suckled gently, teasingly, wetting the fabric, before his tongue slid against your quickly hardening clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped, the pressure building inside you as the pleasure crept steadily, like a slow burn, igniting every nerve. The stress of the day melted away instantly, replaced by the primal need to be consumed, to feel something, anything—until you saw stars. Your head tipped back, your eyes flicking over the edge of the stall, and you saw the washroom door. A rush of heat flooded you as the realization hit: anyone who walked in would see exactly what he was doing to you—his face buried between your legs, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. 

You should be embarrassed, but today? Fuck the imps, fuck the world. You needed this. You were going to feel every inch of him, and if it had to be Adam, then so be it. 

He manoeuvred quickly, claws of desire pulling at the fabric of your underwear, tugging, yanking, until you heard the unmistakable sound of it tearing. The hole he made left you gasping, but before you could voice your frustration, it dissolved into a moan—low and sultry—when his tongue delved deeper, tasting you in ways that made your pulse race. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” you sighed, your hips grinding against his face, the sound of his lips and tongue working your pussy turning your brain to mush. “God, you’re so fucking hungry.” Your fingers threaded into his hair, guiding him, urging him to take more. The wetness on his lips, the feeling of him dragging his tongue across your slick skin, was a sensation so carnal you could hardly breathe. Every moment of pleasure set fire to your nerves, your body humming with need. 

Before you could spiral into ecstasy, Adam pulled away with a growl, lifting you in one swift motion and spinning you around. Your breasts pressed eagerly against the cool stall wall, your ass thrust out, and he didn’t hesitate—slamming into you from behind with a force that made you cry out. The stretch was overwhelming, the thick, heavy length of him filling you in a way that made your entire body ache. He pressed deeper, relentlessly, until he hit your cervix, the sensation so intense that a sharp cry ripped from your throat. 

You were a screamer. You craved rough, dirty sex—the kind that left you breathless, the kind that made you feel alive. 

And Adam? He was just as wild, just as hungry. 

He pounded into you with abandon, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers leaving marks as he slapped your ass, the sting making your entire body tighten. “Fuck, squeeze me tight, babe,” he growled, “Yeah, moan for me, bitch.” His words were raw, his voice thick with lust, and they made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth fucking. Your body responded to him instinctively, your voice growing louder, desperate for more. 

Each wet slap of skin on skin only intensified the heat between you, and you couldn’t help but encourage him, your words slipping out between heavy breaths: “Yes, baby, harder, harder, harder.” You whimpered as your body responded to him, riding the waves of pleasure as they crashed through you. “You fuck so good,” you moaned, the rhythm of your words pushing him to go faster, harder. 

The stall wall shook with every thrust, the sound of your bodies slamming together filling the space. You swore you heard gasps, voices from outside, as if the whole world could hear how fucking good he was making you feel. You were sure there was an audience, but it didn’t matter. Let them listen, let them hear how desperately you were being fucked. After the day you’d had, you fucking deserved it. 

His cock nudged against your g-spot, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand slid around to the front of your hip, fingers expertly swirling over your clit, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. You gasped, your breath growing shallow as the sensations built. “Oh, fuck, baby, I’m going to make a mess if you keep doing this,” you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips without hesitation. You didn’t want him to stop; in fact, you wanted him to push you further, harder.

“Yeah,” he grunted in response, smacking his hips against yours, the heavy swing of his balls hitting your skin with each deep thrust. “You know how I like it, babe,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he quickened the pace, each thrust driving deeper. “Now, scream how good my dick feels inside you,” he commanded, his words pushing you into a haze of desire, pushing you past the point of no return. 

His rhythm grew faster, more frantic, and you pressed your cheek against the cold stall wall, the friction between your bodies sending jolts of fire through your veins. Drool pooled at the corner of your lips, your vision blurring as you felt the peak drawing closer, your body trembling under the intensity. 

Your muscles tightened, and with a loud, unabashed scream, you finally gave in, “Fuck, yes, baby!” you cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and overwhelming. Your body convulsed, squirting wildly, the wetness soaking the front of your dress, dripping onto the floor, and pooling at your feet. 

He grunted, a low, primal sound as he followed you, his cock throbbing inside you. With a deep, guttural moan, he pumped a thick load of his seed into you, his hips grinding against you, urging you to milk him for every last drop. You could feel him deep inside, your walls gripping him desperately, as if trying to hold on to him, to drink him all in. 

Both of you breathed heavily, hearts racing from the intensity of the fuck. The tension of the earlier part of the day, the stress, all melted away in the euphoria of the orgasmic daze. As he pulled out slowly, you felt his warm seed dripping down your thighs, the mixture of his release and your own slipping down to join on the floor. 

“Fuck, that was fucking amazing,” Adam said, his voice rough but satisfied. The moment you turned to face him, he cupped your chin, lifting your face to meet his, and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his touch tender in contrast to the rawness of what had just transpired. “Now, just chill here for a second, babe,” he said, his grin lazy but affectionate. 

You could only nod, still lost in the aftershocks of the pleasure, and as he squeezed himself out of the stall, you leaned back against the cool wall, your breath coming in uneven gasps, slowly feeling his seed continuously dripping out of you, mixing with your own juices. 

That’s when you heard it. 

Voices shouting, cussing—Adam’s angry voice cutting through the air as he shooed the intruders out of the washroom. 

“Fuck off!” Adam yelled, his tone rough and possessive. “Don’t fucking jerk off to my girlfriend, you fucking assholes!” 

Your shoulders stiffened, a jolt of something fierce and unnameable coursing through you. Your breath hitched, caught on the edge of a gasp as your eyes widened. A strange, disarming warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and before you could stop it, the heat reached your cheeks. They burned, your lower lip trembling—not from fear, no, but something rawer, deeper, something that made you feel both vulnerable and... 

Alive. 

He’d just called you his girlfriend. 

Out loud. 

Openly. 

The words rang in your ears, soft and almost careless in his tone, but their weight hit you like a sledgehammer. Your heart was pounding, a frantic, unrelenting rhythm that refused to be ignored. For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trapped in the swirling tempest of emotions that his simple declaration had stirred. 

He was such a fucking loser—messy, aimless, and someone you’d convinced yourself you were only keeping around out of pity. And yet, despite everything, he made you feel like this. 

Alive. 

Wanted. 

Consumed. 

Sure, the incredible sex played a part. That was undeniable. But even in the heat of those moments, there was always something more—a connection that ran deeper, messier, and far more terrifying than either of you dared to acknowledge. 

Still, you weren’t blind. You weren’t naive. This thing between you wasn’t built to last. It was fire and chaos, the kind of passion that burned bright and reckless, destined to burn out long before it settled into anything stable. You knew that. You accepted that. 

So why was your heart still betraying you? Why was it racing like this, pounding like a war drum in your chest? Your trembling fingers brushed over your cheeks, your skin impossibly hot, the blush spreading like a stain you couldn’t hide. 

You took a steadying breath—or tried to, at least—and when the moment passed, when your body cooled and the flush began to fade, you smoothed out your dress as best you could and stepped out of the stall. Your legs felt unsteady, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, but it was the emotions twisting in your chest that left you truly off-balance. 

You sank onto the bench, needing the grounding sensation of solid wood beneath you, and waited. Adam was off somewhere, picking something up—probably something stupid, knowing him. And as much as you wanted to stay indifferent, to hold on to the simmering frustration of how thoroughly he’d upended your carefully guarded emotions, you couldn’t stop the damn flutter in your chest every time he moved, every time you thought of him. 

When he jogged back into view, his hands hidden behind his back and a playful, self-satisfied grin lighting up his face, you swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“Took you long enough,” you teased, though your voice faltered as Adam thrust something in front of your face, startling you. 

A candy apple. 

It gleamed under the garish, hellish lights, its glossy red shell capturing the chaos around it like a tiny, sugary miracle. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked onto it. It was perfect, almost unreal, and yet it was very much in his hand, being awkwardly thrust toward you. 

“I’m not really a fan of apples,” he admitted with a shrug, his brow quirking up. “But I remember you said you liked candy apples once.” 

The words were simple, but they hit you like a tidal wave. Your heart skipped a beat, then another, and suddenly, it wasn’t the candy apple you were looking at. It was him. Adam, with his soft, uncertain expression, his lips pressed together like he wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. His usual bravado was muted, replaced by something genuine, something vulnerable. 

“Listen,” he began, his voice rough with hesitation but tinged with sincerity. “I ain’t good at this kinda thing, but… Merry Christmas, babe.” He gave you a crooked, lopsided smile, nudging the candy apple toward you again. 

For a moment, the world stood still. The noise of the carnival, the blaring music, and the distant screams of the rides—all of it faded into the background. All you could focus on was the candy apple and the boy standing in front of you, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin but refusing to let go of this moment. 

Your fingers brushed his as you took the wooden stick, the faint warmth of his touch lingering against your skin. You held it tightly, the reality of his gesture sinking in. “I—I can’t believe you remembered,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to smile or scoff. “'Course I did,” he muttered, looking off to the side. “You don’t shut up about sweets, so… yeah.” 

You couldn’t help it—a soft, breathy laugh bubbled up, breaking through the overwhelming tide of emotion. Adam, the man who barely listened when you talked, who acted like he didn’t care about half the things you said, had remembered something so small, so inconsequential. 

And it mattered. 

It mattered more than you wanted to admit. 

Your fingers curled around the stick a little tighter, your chest aching in the best way. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice trembling with a quiet kind of wonder. 

Adam’s face softened at your words, though his smirk quickly returned. “Well, are you gonna eat it, or are you just gonna stare at it?” he teased, his tone light, but the way he watched you gave him away. 

“Fine,” you huffed, unwrapping the candy apple carefully. The scent of sugar and caramel wafted up, sweet and familiar, and as you lifted it to your lips, Adam’s voice interrupted you. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, blowing a stray lock of hair off his face. “This place sucks anyway.” 

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but before you could question him, he reached out and took your free hand, pulling you up from the bench with ease. His grip was steady, his palm warm, and as his fingers laced with yours, you felt your chest tighten all over again. 

The candy apple in your other hand felt heavier now, more significant. It wasn’t just a treat—it was a moment, a gesture, a piece of him he’d handed over without realizing its weight. 

As the two of you left the chaos of Loo Loo Land behind, the gaudy lights fading into the distance, everything felt a little softer, a little more vivid. Adam didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. But his hand stayed in yours, his touch grounding you, reminding you that sometimes the smallest things—like a candy apple—could mean everything. 

And as you took your first bite, the sugary sweetness melting on your tongue, you decided it was the best candy apple you’d ever had. 

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

[pinkvbay]

Good cop/bad cop dynamic by fate

Finally had an idea for Valerian's Disco Elysium portrait to go with his wife,,,, IT'S LIKE 6AM I'M GOING TO BED.

[jjsmaybank20]

hiii 😊 i have a request!

celeb!reader x jenna pretty please

reader and jenna unfollow each other on socials and everyone’s confused because they think they broke up, but in reality jenna beat them at uno or wtv (something simple)

& reader goes live and everyone’s like “oh em gee did u and jenna break up” blah blah blah

that’s all i got my brain can’t think of anything else

thank u! and i luv u! 🤭

Celebrity News

Jenna Ortega x GN!Reader

Summary: Everyone thinks that you and Jenna broke up, but in reality, she's just a sore loser.

Warnings: literally all fluff, and my shitty writing

Word Count: 757

A/N: This is for u, bby! Pardon my shitty pic editing, ur much better at it than I am.

Swear to god I thought I posted this yesterday, but I guess not. Enjoy!

navigation  celebrities (romantic) masterlist

---

BREAKING CELEBRITY NEWS: DID ACTORS Y/N Y/L/N AND JENNA ORTEGA BREAK UP?

 This past weekend, fans of Jenna Ortega and Y/N Y/L/N were shocked when the couple unfollowed each other on social media. The couple (who had been going strong for almost a year) have earned a special place in fans hearts, making this news even more heartbreaking. We still don’t know why they have unfollowed each other, but it can’t be good. 

---

10,451 Likes

JennaOrtegaNews: I can’t believe they broke up! They seemed so in love. My heart is broken right now.

y/ns_lover: Noooo! They were my OTP!!!

Scream47: Maybe Jenna will date me now

Bebop218: You’re funny Scream47

ChristianMom: Good riddance. Those two were actively against God. Finally some balance has been restored.

y/n&jenna4life: Get ur homophobic ass outta here

JennaOrtegaWifey: Gonna miss them so much. Hope they’re doing okay.

---

You sit on your bed, bored out of your mind. Jenna was in the kitchen making some food for the two of you. You think about doing a livestream, and you walk towards your girlfriend to run the idea by her. When you enter the kitchen, you see her dancing around, making you smile softly to yourself. 

You wrap your arms around from behind, making Jenna jump slightly before melting into your arms. You sway with her for a second before pressing a kiss to her temple, which makes her turn around so that she can press a soft kiss to your lips. 

When you break apart, you finally remember why you came into the kitchen in the first place. “Baby, do you want to do an Instagram live with me?” She nods her head and says, “As long as I can keep cooking.” You grin at her before setting up your phone. 

Jenna is out of the frame when you begin the livestream, making you realize that you want to surprise the fans. You signal for her to stay as quiet as possible and stay out of frame, and she nods in understanding. You watch the number of people watching shoot up faster than it ever has, catching you slightly off guard.

“Did something happen?” You mutter to yourself, trying to catch some information from the comments speeding past. Finally, a couple of them slow down. I can’t believe you and Jenna broke up! You choke on your spit when you read that, now really confused. 

“Who said we broke up? Where’d you hear that?” The comments continue to stream past, most of them interpreting your reaction as not knowing that the news of the break up had gotten out. Really though, you were just lost. 

Finally a comment stops on your screen that explains everything to you. You two unfollowed each other on Instagram. Didn’t you break up? You let out an exasperated sigh, realizing what had happened. You glance over at Jenna, who is still occupied with her baking, none the wiser as to what is going on in the livestream.

You pick your phone up and point it at her, making the viewers become extremely confused in the comments. “This little shit was mad that she lost at Monopoly, so she unfollowed me on Insta. I unfollowed her in revenge.” Finally Jenna realizes you’re talking about her, and when you say this, she turns around with an offended look on her face.

“You liar!” She then snatches the phone from you and shoves her face right up in the camera. “This liar actually cheated at Monopoly, and that’s a fact. It’s the only way she could have beaten me.” You roll your eyes, easily taking your phone back. “Or maybe you’re just really bad at Monopoly.” 

Jenna thinks about it for a moment before shaking her head and turning back to the oven. “Not possible.” You laugh before finally turning back to the livestream. Messages of relief and amusement are flooding the screen, and you have to giggle at some of them. 

It’s okay y’all! Mom and Dad are fine.

That was a close one! false alarm. 

Yeah, they’re okay. Fighting like 8-year-olds again.

Finally, you decide to sign off of the livestream. “Thanks for checking in, you guys! Jenna and I are fine, no worries. Hope you guys are doing great and have a wonderful day!” When you shut it off, you turn to Jenna and wrap your arms around her. 

“We almost started some massive celebrity news by accident, babe.” Jenna giggles to herself, making you smile. Yeah, you would have to be an idiot to let her go.

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme @MrsLillithy @alotofpockets @theenglishswiftie

Join my taglist!

[carpbread0]

NPC Life is the best

(Genshin Impact x gn reader - sagau)

(second person pov)

Prologue —> part 1 —> part.2

—————————————————-

After being tossed into the world of teyvat, you start to make your way down starsnatch cliff. Unlike what you had previously thought, the winds were quite gentle and gave you a sense of serenity that some what soothed your aching head. It was about sunrise when you had landed here so it shouldn’t take until sunset to get to mondstat.

the dirt path was a great aid to the city and in all honesty the walk down the cliff was quite nice as you got see the lovely sights of windrise and a ancient four winds temple.

there were a few adventures out and about but they paid you no mind. It was better that way. as you slowly approached the small cooking pot set almost right outside the city you decided it be best to test a few things.

Grabbing a small left over sack from the wood stump, you took out a small pocket knife sheathed in leather. Taking the small knife out you looked around to see if anyone was there. to your relief there was no one besides the pigeons on the bridge.

gently holding the knife you proceeded to make a small cut on the side of your wrist.

Gold..

quickly after your discovery you use the bandages in the small bag to cover it up. Wouldn’t want someone to see that..

gently holding the sack you found you thought it’d be best to keep it. It’s free no? Smiling happily with your newly found possession you started to walk across the large bridge.

a few characters you decided were best to avoid were obviously venti and kaeya. Venti was an archon so it was already a big no even if he didn’t know what you looked like. Kaeya is from khanria so who knows what he could sense. Both of them have visions so both of them could possibly recognize your aura.. even though venti uses a fake one, it’s still likely that as an archon he would recognize your aura regardless..

well that is if they decide to believe in the strange aura of yours. There’s a chance they won’t even bother tracking you down.

gathering your thoughts together you make your way into the city nodding at both of the guards as a sign of respect. To your surprise they didn’t even stop you from going in without a small questioning.. you guess it’s because they barely get any respect *snorts*.

walking into the city, you realize it’s about 9 o’clock and your a bit peckish after the long walk. Why not treat yourself to a delicious fisherman’s toast? looking around you as you make your way up to Sara, you find that the city is more crowded than what it seems to be in game. People by the fountain, merchants flocking the side of the paths, and even little kids playing with what looked to be a yo-yo. In all honesty it put a smile on your face. Everything was so beautiful.

making your way up to the counter of good hunter you spot a familiar sight, amber and Eula were eating at good hunter too! ‘Oh god it’s my otp AAAAAAA’

‘Calm down y/n..’

‘Calm down’

afraid of staring at the pair for too long, you glance away not noticing the strange look Eula shot at you.

after waiting in line for a little bit you manage to finally order your beloved fisherman’s toast. Using the mora inside your (stolen) bag you pay off the fisherman’s toast and find a spot to enjoy your crispy delight.

“Why hello there” a familiar but suave voice calls out to you.

“I haven’t seen you before, are you perhaps an outlander like our dear honorary knight?”

god.. it was kaeya

“Hm? Oh I’m actually from liyue.” You lie trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

“Oh? I Must say, you don’t dress like someone from liyue, I apologize for my assumption.” He looks down at you with a sly smile and inquisitive look.

“It’s no problem, really” god you never realized how hard it was to act.. you should’ve taken up those acting classes from your aunt.

“If you say so” he smiles again. “Enjoy your stay in mondstat I’d love to show you around some time traveler”

“Oh no, i mustn’t take up your time”

“Oh but I insist. Whats your name by the way lovely traveler?” He says with a confident look on his face.

“Y/n, you must be the suave Calvary captain that all the ladies in mondstat have been chatting about.” You tease him slightly to get the attention off of you

“You flatter me Y/n. Your quite the smooth talker yourself” he chuckles and smirks.

“Well it was nice getting to meet you, I must be on my way now, even though I would’ve loved to stay and chat”

“It’s no problem Kaeya” you smile softly and wave off to him as he walks away.

‘Holy fucking shit’

You felt as though your life flashed through your eyes as you finish up your fisherman’s toast. Hopefully he didn’t see through your facade.. he might’ve noticed your aura but probably dismissed it as something else. well he’s gone now so there’s no need to worry to much about him right now.

the thing you should be worrying about is going broke after all.

what job would suit your NPC like needs..

——————————————————————

carp bread- brain vomit

[jerzwriter]

It's Kiss-mas! A Carrick Family Holiday

Once again, @/artbyainna (IG) hits it out of the park! I have not done many commissions lately, but I wanted something special for my OTP for the holidays, and she delivered! Look at my babies with their babies!!! ❤️I'm simply in love with this!

I wrote a story to accompany it below.

Book: Open Heart (Post-Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Featuring: The Carrick Girls: Samantha, Brooke & Kayla Rating: General Words: 1,300 Summary: The Carrick family has opted to have a quiet Thanksgiving at home, and the girls have unknowingly started some new traditions.

Thanksgiving Morning

Thanksgiving morning was finally here, and the Carrick household was buzzing with activity. Tobias and Casey were in the kitchen perfecting their holiday meal while their daughters were in the adjoining family room. Toys were scattered about as Samantha read a poem about being thankful, Brooke busily colored decorations at the coffee table, and little Kayla sat nearby, babbling with delight. Casey watched the peaceful scene with a full heart; this was exactly the kind of holiday she had hoped for.

A short time later, Kayla’s sweet babbling stopped, and she waddled toward the kitchen with her dark curls bouncing and the look of joy that could only be found on a child’s face this time of year in place.  

“It’s Kiss-mas!” she announced triumphantly, beaming as she raised her arms in the air.

Samantha, who remained on the couch, rolled her eyes in true big-sister fashion. “It’s not Christmas, Kayla. Today’s Thanksgiving.”

Brooke looked up from her coloring, her brow slightly furrowed. Ever the peacemaker, she wanted to settle things quickly. “It is Thanksgiving,” she agreed. “But we can start celebrating Christmas today, too.”

Kayla’s tiny body appeared to tremble with glee. “Kiss-mas!”

Tobias scooped his youngest into his arms, pressing a kiss onto her chubby cheek. “You know what, sweetheart. We can start celebrating the Christmas season today.”

“Really?” Brooke gasped, her eyes wide. She had been trying to broker peace before but never imagined they’d get this lucky. “Does that mean we can put up the tree today?”

Casey joined the conversation, a soft smile on her lips. “We don’t have big plans,” she reminded Tobias. “Just us and the girls. So I think we could start decorating, don’t you?”

Tobias turned to her, Kayla wriggling happily in his arms. “I don't see why now. After dinner, we’ll make it happen. Tree, stockings, the works!”

“Yey!!!” Brooke squealed as she danced around the living room. Even Samantha couldn’t help but smile as Kayla happily declared, “It’s Kiss-mas!” once more.

Dinner Time

The house was filled with the aroma of roasting turkey. Samantha helped Tobias set the table, and Brooke and Casey were finishing up in the kitchen as Kayla chased the family cat, Pietro, all around the room. While Tobias and Casey were eager to dig into the delicious meal, the girls were more focused on the promise of Christmas decorating to come.

Samantha was the first to push her plate forward. “I’m done!” she announced with a broad grin.

“Done?” Tobias asked with a raised brow. “You barely touched your food, hon. You’ve gotta eat more than that.”

“Daddy’s right,” Brooke chimed in, clutching a dinner roll. “We need energy for decorating!”

Casey laughed softly, sharing an amused glance with Tobias. “We do need energy,” she agreed. “But there will be no decorating until after we have the pumpkin pie. That’s non-negotiable.”

Kayla sat tall in her high chair, clapping her hands. “Pie! Pie!” she giggled, pointing to the dessert on the counter.

“You can have pie, sweetie,” Casey promised. “As soon as you finish that turkey.”

Despite the older girl’s minds already being set on the tree, the meal was filled with tender moments, especially when they shared what they were most thankful for. Samantha had a long list prepared, covering everything from her family to her books and dolls. Brooke quickly added Mommy’s bedtime stories and Daddy’s pancakes as Tobias playfully whispered into his wife's ear, “Note, it’s not your food,” he laughed. Kayla’s contribution was a little less cohesive—“Cat! Turkey! Kiss-mas!” She yelled as Tobias grinned and told her that was a perfect list.

Decorating the Tree

The girls had barely cleared their plates before they asked their father to get the tree. Almost as eager as they were, he needed little prodding. He returned from the basement with plastic storage bins containing their decorations before Casey finished clearing the table. The girls squealed when he placed them next to the fireplace, where their stockings would soon hang.

Casey knelt beside one of the bins and pulled out their beloved angel tree topper, holding it up with a smile. “Remember this?” she asked Tobias, gently taking his hand. “We bought it our first Christmas together.”

“Before you had us?” Samantha asked, seemingly shocked that her parents had a life before she and her sisters entered it.

“Yep,” Tobias laughed. “Mommy and Daddy actually did things before you were all born, too, you know.”

“But I’m sure they weren’t as fun!” Brooke giggled as she pulled their stockings from another bin.

“Daddy, you have to start with the lights!” Samantha called out, already wrestling with a tangled string. Casey chuckled as Tobias groaned. She knew this was his least favorite part, but Samantha had already assigned the job to him.

The room quickly filled with laughter as holiday music played softly in the background. Brooke worked diligently on the lower branches while, with Tobias’s help, Samantha worked on the higher ones. Casey watched with a smile as she kept Kayla occupied, and they both kept Pietro away from the tree.

“Can we do the stockings next?” Brooke asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Tobias replied, then he helped Brooke hang them carefully along the mantle while Casey added the finishing touches to the tree.

With everything finally in place, they stepped back to admire their work - their faces aglow from the tree’s twinkling lights. It felt like magic. Tobias wrapped his arm around Casey, placing a kiss on her head. “This is perfection,” he whispered, and nearby, Kayla apparently agreed. “It’s Kiss-mas!” she yelled, bouncing up and down with delight.

The End of the Night

“What can we do next?” Samantha asked, hands on her hips.

Tobias exchanged a look with his exhausted wife. “I say we watch some Christmas movies,” he suggested, settling back into the couch.

“Can we have popcorn?” Brooke asked, though her tone left little room for negotiation.

“There’s no other way to do it,” Casey laughed, and as the girls piled onto the couch, Tobias joined her in the kitchen to make popcorn. With the quiet hum of the microwave filling the space, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Do I tell you how thankful I am for you often enough?” he asked, his voice low and filled with emotion.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You tell me quite often,” she replied. “Do I do the same for you?”

“Yes,” he smirked. “But feel free to lay it on me more often. My ego isn’t as big as you think.”

Casey’s laughter filled the room as she gently smacked his chest. “Oh, please. Your ego couldn’t possibly get any bigger.”

They glanced into the living room, where the girls were snuggled under a blanket. Samantha and Brooke already bickering over what to watch first, while Kayla, nestled between them, looked completely unphased by the commotion.

“Our lives have sure changed since our first Thanksgiving together,” Casey said, leaning into Tobias’s chest.

He nodded, his voice full of reverence. “You can say that again, and they just keep getting better.”

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple before they carried the popcorn into the living room.

Settling onto the couch, Tobias announced, “All right! It’s Kayla’s turn to pick!” The toddler squealed, pointing at the screen. “Kiss-mas show!”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Casey laughed.

“Don’t worry, girls,” Tobias assured. “We’ll watch all of our favorites tonight.”

A gentle snow began to fall outside as Rudolph appeared on the television screen. Snuggled under the blanket with their daughters on their laps, Tobias and Casey’s hearts couldn’t have been more full. They shared a quick kiss before they turned back to the TV, basking in the glow of their tree and the simple joy of being together.

It was the perfect Thanksgiving, after all.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

@choicesholidays New Traditions, Cuddling by the Fireplace @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 thankful, television, pies, happiness

Tagging others separately.

[imaginativeworks]

Imagine Your OTP

Person A throws pebbles at person B’s window. To ask them something only for them to believe Person A’s here to confess to them or serenade them. When they find out…

Person B: “Really? You come out this late to ask me such a silly question?!?!”

Person A: “Yes, what did you think I would be doing this late?”

Person B: (scoffing to the side, eyes closed as if not to look at this embarrassing display) “I don’t know? Most people who do something like this would do something romantic. Confessing one’s feelings or serenading them!”

Person A: (looks with a bemused smirk, eyebrow raised at finding out that not only Person B may be interested in them but they could be interested in a display like that. With a chuckle they add) “Would like for me to do that~”

Person B’s eyes glance slightly back to them flustering at the look that was returned. One with loving amusement. One that would be reserved only for a long time beloved after their partner would be shown….

Person A: “Because I would never be opposed to doing something like that for you. I just thought you wouldn’t interested in such a thing from me. Like you’re above such an act from an average entertainer. But if truly you would, I will be back tomorrow fully prepare to win your affection! Goodnight and I hope to see you tomorrow, my dearest~” 

And with that Person A disappears into the night with sweet promises for tomorrow. Leaving a rather dizzyingly flustered Person B. As they lean against their wall close to the window. As their hand covering their ever warming cheeks. They can’t help an enamoured smile from growing upon it.