#was shadow surprised when he gestured for him to share? maybe a little

[feligayzed]

a wip that i more or less abandoned ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

the thought was sonic is a social smoker at most, and he has a habit of catching shadow during his breaks. who knew he'd end up preferring the chitchat over his own brooding silence sometimes

[cece693]

Touch Starved

pairing: brahms heelshire x gender neutral reader tags: touch starved Brahms, you're a nanny, not movie compliant, just you delivering kindness to a man who's living in the walls, cute but also concerning, cause who wants a stinky, murderous man

You hadn’t planned on taking care of anyone but yourself for a while, least of all a man hidden away behind old walls and silent halls. But fate has a funny way of leading you to the places—and people—you didn’t know you needed.

The moment you stepped through the heavy wooden doors of the Heelshire estate, a sense of quiet trepidation mingled with an unexpected tingle of warmth. You were met by the echoes of distant footsteps (or so you thought) and the slow creaking of doors that seemed to open by themselves. There was supposed to be a doll, you’d been told. Brahms, a porcelain boy that you were to care for as though he were a real child. But as the days passed, you quickly realized you were not alone. You could feel it—a presence just out of reach. A low scuff against the floorboards when you turned your head, the flicker of a shadow across a mirror.

Every now and then, you caught sight of a shape in the doorway: tall and still, eyes peering through a masked face. Brahms. Not the porcelain doll, but a flesh-and-blood man, heartbreakingly silent and desperately lonely.

It was late one evening when you finally found him in the living room, crouched behind an old armchair. He might have fled if not for how gently you approached—slow steps, outstretched hands, your voice calm but cautious.

You knelt down, heart pounding, meeting those wide, frightened eyes through the mask’s eyeholes. “You must be Brahms,” you whispered into the stillness. Your words lingered, soft reassurance filling the space between you.

He didn’t speak; you hadn’t expected him to. But there was a distinct tremor in his shoulders as though he was holding back a flurry of words—or maybe sobs. Even behind the mask, you could feel the intensity of his longing for contact, for acknowledgment, for someone to look at him and not run away in horror.

So you didn’t run. You didn’t even back away.

You settled into a routine with surprising ease. Brahms was silent as always, but his presence began to make itself known through little gestures: the steady pattern of footsteps behind you as you moved about the estate, the slight tug on your sleeve when it was time for dinner, or a gentle tap on your shoulder in the afternoons when the house felt too big, too empty.

In response, you offered him wordless kindness. Meals at the table, always setting two plates so he’d know there was a seat for him. A folded blanket left on the sofa, just big enough for the two of you to share when the nights got cold. A record player with music turned down low, so he could sit near you without feeling overwhelmed.

At first, he was shy about receiving affection. You’d see his shoulders tense whenever your hand hovered over his arm—but he never pulled away. Slowly, day by day, Brahms let himself draw closer to you. Where he once watched you from afar, now he’d sit at the edge of the same couch.

One evening, you found yourself in the library. The moonlight streamed in through stained-glass windows, painting the shelves in a kaleidoscope of color. You sat on the old, worn rug, a book splayed in your lap. You were reading quietly to him, your tone hushed and steady, when Brahms leaned close—closer than he ever had.

Your voice faltered for a split second, but you carried on. His breathing was unsteady. At last, carefully, you rested a hand on his knee. For an agonizing moment, you thought he might leap up and bolt into the hidden corridors. But instead, Brahms let out a sound—something between a sigh and a relief-filled moan.

He turned just enough for you to see his eyes through the mask, shadows dancing in the moonlight. Slowly, painfully shy, he laid his head against your shoulder, letting you cradle him gently. Brahms felt fragile, like an abandoned creature starved for love.

You ran your fingers through the strands of his hair that peeked out from beneath the mask’s edges. His shoulders relaxed little by little, tension melting under the warmth of your touch. If you had any doubts that your affection was what he so badly needed, they all drifted away in that moment.

Affection became your shared language. Brahms still didn’t speak; you didn’t need him to. The way he tentatively placed his hand over yours—masked fingers brushing yours—was worth more than a thousand words. When he was anxious, you felt it in the trembling press of his body against yours. When he was happy, you saw it in the more confident way he moved, as though it no longer pained him to be seen.

You took pleasure in the smallest rituals: combing through his hair by the fireplace, making him tea, encouraging him to hold your hand whenever he felt uncertain. He was ravenous for the smallest bit of kindness. Every fleeting touch on his arm or gentle brushing of your fingers along his back made him shudder in gratitude. You were more than willing to give it to him.

Eventually, one crisp morning, you convinced him to come outside with you. He hovered in the doorway, torn between the fear of the open world and the longing to stay by your side. But you simply offered your hand, palm upturned, and waited with all the patience you could muster.

He took it.

Once outside, Brahms let out a breath he’d been holding for years, it seemed. The sun’s warmth touched him through the fabric of his clothes, through the slight gap between the edge of his mask and his skin. You guided him to the garden, letting him feel the dew on his fingertips.

He never let go of your hand.

You paused by the rosebushes, a single white blossom catching your eye. You plucked it gently and offered it to him. Brahms stared at it for a long, reverent moment. Then, with trembling care, he lifted the bloom to his mask, as though inhaling a memory of a life he never quite had. Softly, you reached out, cupping his cheek over the porcelain of his mask. He leaned into your palm as though memorizing the warmth, the unmistakable proof that someone saw him, someone cared for him. In that private corner of the garden, with sunbeams turning both your breaths into pale mist in the cool air, you let him rest his masked forehead against yours.

[decagondice]

༓ Shaving Shadows ༓

Soft!Sukuna x reader, sfw, normal au, in the stillness of morning, a blade glides with care in the act of helping him shave.

The morning light drifted through the narrow window of the bathroom, painting pale streaks across the walls. It was a quiet, gentle light that softened the edges of everything it touched—the worn tiles, the faded mirror, the countertop scattered with a few humble necessities. You leaned against the doorframe, watching Sukuna’s broad back as he stood before the sink. The scent of shaving cream and faintly damp linen lingered in the air, settling over the room like something warm and familiar.

Sukuna was shirtless, his body still dappled with traces of sleep. Muscles shifted beneath the skin of his shoulders as he swirled a soft-bristled brush in the dish of shaving cream, building it up to a rich lather. You had always been struck by the unexpected precision in his movements, the contrast between his often rough demeanour and the care with which he approached these small routines. His fingers, usually steady and unyielding, now softened by sleep and morning, were patient as they spread the foam over the sharp line of his jaw. He paused to inspect his work in the mirror, turning his head slightly to one side, then the other.

“Watching, are you?” he murmured, his voice low and almost lazy, eyes meeting yours in the glass. His gaze held a trace of a smile, something mischievous and faintly indulgent.

You inched closer, feeling a gentle pull as if he’d beckoned you without words. “Maybe a little,” you replied, smiling back, though your voice was barely a murmur, careful not to disturb the quiet spell of the morning. You reached for the straight razor he’d set out on the counter, the handle cool in your fingers. Holding it up to him, you tilted your head in a silent question, and he responded with a faint nod, just the ghost of permission.

He turned to face you fully, crossing his arms over his chest in an almost expectant posture, watching you with that unwavering gaze. There was something intimate in the gesture, something that made your heart quicken as you reached up to brush the remnants of shaving cream along his jawline, your fingers barely grazing his skin. Sukuna’s eyes didn’t leave yours; it felt like he was memorizing every breath you took, every small movement. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips, steady and strong, yet your touch was delicate as you lifted the blade to his skin.

The silence between you grew weightier, thicker somehow, as if held together by the sheer gravity of proximity and the shared trust in this simple ritual. The razor slid carefully across his skin, leaving a clean, soft path in its wake. As you worked, you could feel the way he relaxed, the way his breath evened, deepened, softened under your hand. It was something of an unspoken conversation, the kind that felt almost sacred, carrying the weight of things rarely said aloud.

“Steady hands,” he murmured after a moment, amusement flickering in his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted in the slightest smirk, but there was a warmth in it, a gentleness he saved only for these rare, quiet moments.

You laughed softly, the sound a mere whisper in the small space, and watched as he closed his eyes, as if savoring the sensation of the blade moving against his skin. With each stroke, you grew more comfortable, moving with a tenderness that was both natural and surprising. Sukuna let you work in silence, his breathing slow and even, and somehow, it felt as if the room had become timeless, suspended in this fragile, perfect morning light.

When the last trace of shaving cream was gone, you rinsed the blade, setting it carefully back on the counter. Sukuna’s eyes opened, locking onto yours with a quiet intensity that made warmth bloom beneath your skin. He lifted his hand, fingers brushing lightly along your jawline, his thumb tracing a path beneath your chin. There was a softness in his gaze that you rarely saw, something almost reverent.

“You did well,” he said, his voice a low murmur. And though the words were simple, his tone made them feel like a confession, a glimpse into something deeper that he often kept guarded.

In the warm stillness that followed, Sukuna leaned down, just enough to close the space between you. His lips brushed against yours, slow and unhurried, a kiss that felt like a seal, as if he were silently binding this moment to memory.

A.N. I had a difficult time on choosing which JJK Men to put in this scenario, it could have been Toji, Nanami etc. Lest, I went with Sukuna. Since, I wrote one about him brushing your hair, I wanted to try an alternative where you shared a similar sentiment for him. Thank you for reading!

[beth20light]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.

[thedemoninme141]

Operation Oreo

Wrote this cause @ortegalvr and @cobaltperun inspired me a little. Never thought I would write fluff.

Summary: A jealous Wednesday buys you Oreos...

It had taken an hour of pleading, sweet-talking, and even a few light-hearted bribes, but you’d finally managed to get Wednesday to agree to go with you to the carnival. She was by your side now, looking as out of place as ever in her all-black attire, her expression one of deep displeasure.

Wednesday scanned the surroundings with a sharp gaze, her mind undoubtedly filled with thoughts of a million better things she could be doing. The only reason she hadn't slipped away into the shadows was because of you. Her loyalty, or perhaps something more, kept her grounded. Still, she was just about ready to tell you that she was leaving when a lanky boy from Ajax’s group approached.

"Hey, I got these for you," the boy said, holding out a open packet of Oreos. "I remember you mentioned these were your favorite."

You blinked in pleasant surprise, smiling as you accepted one from the packet. "Thank you! That's really thoughtful."

You laughed at something he said, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed. She wasn’t entirely sure if Oreos were your favorite, though she was mildly annoyed at herself for not knowing. But any regret she felt was quickly overshadowed by a surge of jealousy as she watched the boy inch closer to you, clearly enjoying your attention a bit too much for her liking.

Without a word, Wednesday turned on her heel and strode through the crowd, her eyes locking onto Enid, who was in line for food. The werewolf was balancing a tray of snacks when Wednesday grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the line.

“Wednesday! What gives? I’m going to lose my spot!” Enid complained, nearly dropping everything as she was dragged along.

“Where can I find a carton of Oreos?” Wednesday asked, her tone flat but her eyes flashing with an emotion Enid struggled to decipher.

Enid’s confusion only lasted a moment before she spotted the boy sharing his Oreos with you and your smile. A grin spread across her face as she pieced it together. “Ohhh, I see what this is about. Wednesday Addams, jealous? I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Enid.” Wednesday’s voice was a warning, cold enough to shut Enid up, but not before she couldn’t resist teasing her one last time.

"Don't worry, Ajax and I will help you with Operation Oreo."

The next thing you knew, you and Wednesday were sitting in the backseat of Ajax’s car as he drove, Enid beside him literally choking because it was too hard to hold the laughter inside.

Enid had practically shoved you inside. The car was crammed with packs of Oreos, a ridiculous amount, so many that there was barely any room for the two of you to sit. The sight was so absurd that it took everything you had not to burst out laughing.

Wednesday, on the other hand, was staring intently out the window, refusing to meet your gaze. Her shoulders were tense, and you could see the faintest hint of pink on her pale cheeks.

You knew this gesture, this utterly nonsensical yet endearing over-the-top display, had been her way of staking a claim, of showing that she cared in her own peculiar way.

You reached over and gently touched her hand. “Wednesday…”

She turned to you, her eyes softening just a fraction. “He shouldn’t have given you those Oreos. It should've been me. I should have known they were your favorite.”

You finally let the giggle escape, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s okay. You know now, and you didn’t have to do all this.”

Wednesday frowned, glancing around at the mountains of cookies surrounding you both. “Perhaps it was… excessive.”

“Maybe a little,” you teased lightly. “But it’s the thought that counts. I love that you’d do something like this for me, Wednesday. It means a lot.”

“Let’s never speak of this again,” she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

You nodded, still holding back your laughter. “Agreed.”

Some Oreos between you two crumbled in their packets as you moved closer to her to put your head on her shoulder, who cares about broken Oreos? You like KitKats more anyway.

[ Author's note: Its been exactly one year since Celine left. Its been a rough year old friend, I miss exploring the lands between with you.]

Our other works are here.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || homicidal liu & jane the killer || maid!reader || (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: threesome, dom!jane, dom!liu, knife play + blood play combo, overstimulation, ownership kink lowkey, breeding

Being at the Trenderman mansion was odd.

Not because of its residents, but because of what they allowed you to do.

After your encounter with Helen you never saw him or any sign of him, minus the news channel blowing up after he went on a manic killing spree. With nothing left to clean due to how pristine the mansion was, you were left to your own devices. For the remainder of your weekend you wondered around the mansion aimlessly, admiring all of the freshly polished wood and satisfying forest smell at every turn. The only place you found real comfort in was the library, which was giant in comparison to anything you had ever seen. When you were particularly bored you’d wonder there, curling up in a nook by the window to read to pass time. Truthfully you were enjoying the tiny break, but your body was yearning for some sort of satisfaction. You weren’t sure if it was supernatural or not, but your sex drive was high enough to please all of the mansions residents.

It was Sunday night, Ben and Toby scheduled to pick you up the following day. You were in the last clothing item you had clean, a skimpy silk lavender night gown. The mansion was cooler at night, goosebumps trailing across your bare skin as you headed towards the library. It was the dead of night, most of the mansions residents out and about. You pushed open the doors of the library, the overwhelming smell of cigarettes invading your nostrils. You were surprised to see two shadows sitting in your reading nook. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jane the Killer and Homidical Liu, talking amongst themselves as they shared a cigarette.

Jeff was not kind when it came to the descriptions of Jane or Liu. To Jeff, Jane was the psycho bitch who deserved her fate, while Liu was the moronic brother who he deemed to need therapy. You found this ironic coming from Jeff, but never vocalized any form of protest. Yet the stories he told made them out to be the worst of the worst, killers that would slice and dice you mercilessly at the first sight of you. You swallowed, realizing your gawking had alerted them of your presence. “There you are! There’s our little bookworm!” Jane cheered, rising to her feet. You couldn’t help but notice the way her hips swayed when she walked, a smile spreading across her lips. She approached you with ease, your body tense and eyes wide as she threw her arms around you. As you inhaled you could smell her perfume, the sweet scent of chocolate and cherries swirling around your nostrils. Jane noted your tenseness but pretended she didn’t notice, looping her arm through yours.

“I’m Jane and this is Liu. But since you live with Jeff i’m sure you know who we are,” She said, gesturing to each of them as she spoke. Her voice was smooth like butter as she walked you over to Liu. The brunette seemed intrigued by your appearance. “So it’s true, you really are human,” He commented. Jane joined him by his side, not failing to elbow him. “Be nice,” Jane hissed. Liu rolled his green eyes, placing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling. “So uh, are you two together or..?” You began to ask, your voice trailing off. Jane chuckled at your joke, Liu exhaling his cigarette smoke. “Oh no baby I don’t swing that way. I like pretty girls like you,” She laughed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks, her enchanting obsidian eyes staring at you. “You ever smoke a cigarette before?” Liu asked, his voice gruff. You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck. “Well uh maybe, one or two times I think..” You said honestly. Jane reached out and grabbed your arm, plopping you in between the two of them.

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” Jane cooed. Unsurely you took the cigarette from Liu, placing in between your lips. As you inhaled you noticed Jane’s soft hand placing itself on your thigh, while Liu scooted closer toward you. The tobacco swirled around your lungs, your eyes watering as you coughed. Liu chuckled at your reaction, watching as Jane took the cigarette away from there. “You’ll learn kid. Don’t worry, there’s a lot of things Jane and I can teach you,” Liu said. Jane smoked the cigarette with ease, your body melting under the touch of Liu pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “L-Like what?” You sputtered, your heart pounding. Jane placed the cigarette in a nearby ash tray, giving you a seductive smile. “You have such a pretty mouth baby, I think putting it to good use will teach you a few things,” Jane mused. Her words sent a chill down your spine. You were practically trembling under their touch. “What’s wrong kid?” Liu asked, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him. His emerald eyes were full of dominance, peering down at you curiously. “Well J-Jeff said-” You started, Jane quick to cut you off.

“Oh honey is that it? Did Jeff say bad things about us?” Jane asked in a sweet tone. You nodded quickly, Jane and Liu exchanging glances. “We’re not scary, are we Liu? Why don’t you show her how loving we can be?” Jane suggested. Liu hopped off of the bench, immediately falling to his knees. Jane made her way behind you, guiding you to lay against her chest. Liu’s skin was comfortingly warm, while Jane’s was cool and soft. The two made your heart pound and cunt throb, the idea of Jeff’s worst enemies getting you off liberating and terrifying at the same time. Your thighs were shaking with fear, Liu’s warm chapped lips pressing soft kisses onto your inner thighs. Jane pulled the straps of your night slip down, gently rubbing your exposed skin. “You caught us on a good night, Sully would’ve eaten you alive by now,” Jane whispered. She pulled your night gown down until your bare breast were exposed, your nipples becoming hard under the cool night air. “S-Sully?” You sputtered. Liu’s hands slithered under your gown, yanking down your thong. “Liu’s counterpart. Don’t worry baby we’re gonna take real good care of you," Jane cooed.

Her soft hands traveled to your breast, toying with your nipples as Liu's hot breath fanned over your cunt. You whined at the sensation, goosebumps traveling across your skin as Liu licked a stripe up your cunt. "Oh there she is, theres the good little whore everyones been talking about," Jane chuckled, twisting your nipples harshly. You whined as Liu attached his lips to your clit, violently sucking at the bud. One of your hands tangled itself in his hair, the other gripping onto Jane's thigh for support. "You know we've been waiting for your arrival, precious thing," Jane whispered. You whimpered as Liu lapped at your folds as if he were a starved man. "You see we're not above pissing Jeff off for fun," Jane snickered. You watched wide eyed as Jane took out her knife, handing it to Liu. "Now having his sex slave marked with our initials? That sounds like great fun to me. I'd focus on my voice honey, this may sting," Jane told you. You screwed your eyes shut as Liu brought the tip of the blade to your inner thigh, the sharp slicing of your skin making you cry out in pain. "Shh baby you're doing so good. Your reward will make this all the worthwhile," Jane cooed, watching in satisfaction as Liu finished carving an L.

Jane took the liberty of sliding her hand down to your aching cunt, circling your abandoned clit. You groaned as Liu began to carve the letter J, licking the blood from the other cuts. "Well would you look at that Liu, I think she likes it," Jane chuckled darkly. With your blood still fresh on his tongue Liu pulled away from nursing your wound, finishing Jane's initial. "What a dirty little whore, I knew there was a reason everyone loves her so much," Liu replied, his cock beginning to ache in his jeans. Slowly you blinked your eyes open as you whimpered, thin beads of blood forming from the fresh cuts. They still stung as Liu continued to lap at them, causing you to curse. Your body was confused, Jane playing with your cunt while Liu cut you making your head spin. "I hope you didn't go too deep Liu, poor slut already looks dazed," Jane commented. Liu wiped his chin, the clinking of his belt sending a chill down your spine. "We better get on with it then. Wanna see what the hype is all about," He said, pulling down his jeans. Jane rearranged you, making you lay down as the two of them undressed. She took off her panties, hovering over your face. You couldn't quite understand why your body craved what it did, but you wanted nothing more than for the pale killer to ride your face until sunrise.

Eagerly you stuck out your tongue, gasping as Liu abruptly shoved his cock inside of you. He bottomed out quickly, your mouth in the shape of an O as Jane sat on your face. You tried to focus on lapping at her folds, her juices addicting and thighs squeezing your head. "Surprised she still has such a tight cunt after being the community's gloryhole," Liu panted, harshly gripping your waist. You tried your hardest to please Jane, having never eaten pussy before. You tried to do what you thought would feel good, listening to her sinful noises to ensure she was feeling the best possible. "Yes well her tongue can certainly make up for whatever aspects she may lack," Jane agreed, grinding her hips down and onto your face. With shaky hands you grabbed her thighs, trying to balance yourself as Liu began to fuck you. His thrust were anything but slow, the brunette immediately seizing the opportunity to spite Jeff by fucking you. "Think I can get her pregnant? Take Jeff's play thing off the market?" Liu asked Jane, your walls fluttering around his cock at the thought. Your moans vibrated against Jane's folds, causing her to lean forward in an attempt to support herself.

"Sounds like a wonderful plan Liu. You sick twisted bastard," Jane moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she rode your face. You struggled to be able to focus, both of them overwhelming you. You could hardly keep up with Liu abusing your cunt, purposefully giving you the roughest fuck he could provide. He wanted to send you home with puffy folds and the inability to walk, with his and Jane's markings showing everyone it was their doing. Jane wanted to use you to the fullest extent, grabbing your breast and toying with your nipples as your tongue teased her entrance. This was your first time pleasing a girl and you couldn't get enough. Jane was coming close to her orgasm first, her moans becoming more jagged and uncontrolled. "Fuck, she's fucking good at this. You think we can keep her?" Jane asked, the cord in her stomach tightening. Liu grinned as he put your legs over his shoulders, somehow fucking deeper into your core.

“I’d like to, i’d get a chance to breed this cunt every day,” Liu replied. He brought his thumb to your clit, drawing circles around the bud as he plowed into you. Jane bit her bottom lip, her thighs squeezing your head as she came closer to her orgasm. “Gonna c-cum,” She warned, her head tilting back as she came on your face. Feeling her cunt flutter around your tongue was addicting, your hands keeping her locked into place. You didn’t stop assaulting her cunt through out her orgasm, the pale killer at a loss for words. “Overstimulating Jane kid? My my you are crazy slut,” Liu chuckled. Jane licked her lips, her sinful noises uncontrollable. She shoved Liu’s hand away from your clit, replacing it with her tongue. Your moans became even louder, Liu’s cock continuing to abuse your cunt as it pleased. The cord in your stomach was tightening, your thighs beginning to tremble as your head began to spin.

“Look at that Jane, got her nice and tremblin’ for us,” Liu snickered. The pale killer grinned at the sight, deciding to graze your clit with her teeth. The sensation sent you over the edge, your body shaking as you came on Liu’s cock. His hips began to stutter, your name falling from his lips as he came deep inside of your cunt. On auto pilot you continued to lap at Jane’s folds, determined to make her cum one last time. She braced herself on your thighs, her sinful noises echoing throughout the library as she came again. She slowly lifted off of your face, her thighs shaky and heart racing. You were dazed to say the very least, watching Liu slowly pull out of you. You could feel his warm cum drip down your cunt, both him and Jane admiring the sight. She licked her lips, settling in between your thighs. “Oh no baby, it looks like you wasted all of Liu’s cum,” She said mockingly. With two fingers she gathered what she could, shoving it back inside of you, causing you to whine.

She hovered over your abused folds, your core throbbing as her sinister eyes met yours.

“Whadda say I get you cleaned up so Liu can give you more? Maybe this time you’ll keep it where it’s supposed to be.”

[currentloser]

quiet between the stars

pairing: kwon ji-yong x reader word count: 3009 tags: fluff, emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort, fan x idol summary: You didn’t plan to see him again, but Ji-yong had other ideas. One quiet night turns into something neither of you expected.

ao3 • part 1

The soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement is the only sound between you for a moment, save for the hush of the city in the distance. Ji-yong walks beside you, calm and collected. His hand is still curled in yours, his thumb brushing slow and thoughtful lines across your skin. In the back of your mind you attempt to trace and follow them, losing track as soon as you glance at him yet again.

It’s surreal- this, with him. The night air is cool enough to raise goosebumps on your arms, and yet his presence grounding you is enough to warm you.

I keep wondering when the illusion will break, when someone will yell his name. When he remembers that he isn’t mine to walk beside.

He breaks the silence first, his voice a low whisper, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet between you, “Tell me something real.”

You glance over, surprised by the shift in his tone. You can’t help but tip your head in his direction, and you realize he’s not smiling, no longer teasing. He gives you a look like he actually wants to know, like he really cares.

“Something real?” you echo.

He nods, “Something that isn’t about who you are on the outside.” You hesitate, the weight of the request settling in on you. There’s so much about him you already knew from his incredibly public life, you never considered sharing something about yourself. He’s asking to see you beyond public appearance, silently asking to be seen beyond his own image as well.

You swallow, those words balancing on the edge of your tongue, unsure if you’ll sound stupid once spoken. There’s a softness in the way he looks at you-like no one else exists in this quiet street.

“Okay,” you murmur, “I get anxious in elevators. Too many people, too little space. I can pretend I’m fine but I’m counting the seconds until I can get out.”

As you speak, there’s a strange relief in saying it aloud, as if the words had been waiting. You never tell people these things, what’s the point? Most don’t care. Ji-yong listens like he does, really does, and somehow that makes you want to say more. You almost do.

He hums, contemplative, “Is that why you asked for the stairs earlier?”

A bit flustered, you give him a surprised look, “You noticed?”

“I notice a lot of things about you,” he said, the warmth returning to his voice.

The city had quieted into that strange in-between hour, too late for the dinner crowd yet too early for the bars to close. Streetlights flickered softly above, casting golden light over the slick pavement. Rain had passed earlier, leaving the sidewalks dark and glistening. Puddles scattered across the road where the pavement would never be patched. You stepped around them, but Ji-yong didn’t bother. His shoes splashed straight through, like he’d done it a thousand times before.

You never took the type of celebrity to the representative of Chanel to do such a thing, but maybe he had. His hand was warm in yours. He wasn’t leading you to anywhere in particular, just strolling like there was nowhere else to be. Occasionally, a car rumbled past, or someone’s laughter echoed from a nearby rooftop. It was mostly the soft scuff of your steps and the whisper of the wind curling between buildings.

Ji-yong tugged on his hoodie, pulling it above his hand. Half-hiding the curve of his jaw, a shadow passed over his face before he exhaled softly and reached up, taking the scarf from around his neck. Wordless, he draped it over your shoulders, tugging it snug before resettling his hand back into yours. It smells like cedar and cologne, soft and faint but uniquely him. You resist the urge to bury your face in it. The fabric is warm, but the gesture is warmer.

Your heart stutters. It’s not just the cold or the surprise of it, its how naturally he gives and notices. You hadn’t even spoken, and yet here he was- covering you with something of his like it was second nature. It’s terrifying, how easily you could fall for him. You’re already beginning to, aren’t you?

“Cold?” He asked, glancing sideways. His eyes shone in the light- dark brown and impossibly tender..

You shrugged with a little grin, “Not anymore.”

They say that Seoul never sleeps, but this part of the city felt like it had let itself doze. Storefronts shuttered, a convenience store glowing behind finger-print smudged glass. Steam rose gently from a street food cart long abandoned for a night. 

Ji-yong slowed beside an old building with ivy crawling up its side, its brick surface cracked but still holding strong. A faded mural stretches across the side- an oversized tiger curled protectively around a crescent moon, time having worn the colors down to soft pastels. He comes to a stop, his hand tugging slightly to slow you with him.

“I used to sit right here,” He nodded toward a low wall just beneath the mural, “Would sneak away on my break and just… watch the sky, think about giving the idol life up. Back when I was only a trainee.”

You glance at him, then the wall, trying to picture him. You watch his profile as he speaks, your chest tightening with every word. It’s not just the image, its the ache in his voice, the honestly of it. He’s not telling this story for the effect. He’s letting you in. You’d followed his career well enough to get that mental image of him much younger. Dressed in oversized trainee sweats, headphones hanging around his neck. Tired but still dreaming, and working tirelessly.

The version of him the world has always seen feels light-years away from the one beside you now. Almost wrong to look at too long, reaching his hand not just to comfort, but to ground yourself in the moment. To remind him silently you’re here, you’re there for him.

“Did you want to?” You ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away, instead he shifts on his feet. He’s staring at the wall like it’s something sacred.

“Sometimes,” he says eventually, “I was just a kid, always exhausted. Despite being in a group I was lonely in a way that felt... heavy.”

There’s a long silence. 

You watch his face in the amber glow of the streetlight. He’s not performing, there’s no mask. Just a man revisiting the ache of a memory he doesn’t often let surface. It strikes you how few people in his life probably know this version of him.

“Why the tiger?” You murmur as your eyes trace the mural, “Why here?”

“It reminded me of my band members,” he admits, blinking like its a question he hadn’t been asked before, “You can’t see it anymore, but there was a sun in this portrait as well. I used to imagine they were by my side, symbols watching over me. Even when I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore.”

The quiet stretches, and you grab his hand again, “Have you ever come back here?”

“Not in years,” He admitted, “Didn’t think I could.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Softly, he speaks, “Now it feels like part of me again.” He leaned against the wall, pulling you to stand beside him. Neither of you speak, and the mural watches the two of you as the breeze picks up. You glance up at the sky as you imagine his younger self again, looking at the sky and wondering if any of them would ever really see him. Maybe now, at least someone does.

He paused, sorting through years of things he’d never managed to say out loud. Perhaps feeling the weight of the mood pushing in on the two of you, he attempts to lighten the mood with a little laugh and pushed himself off the wall, tugging you along. “I didn’t expect to talk about any of this with you.”

You stood together in the spill of light, the soft breeze attempting to tug the scarf away from you, barely. Just him, and you in this fragile moment. He looked at you like he was seeing something for the first time, or maybe recognizing something he’d tried to ignore. “I wasn’t planning this,” He said, his voice low, “I thought it would be easy to go on, but here we are.”

You fall back into step beside him, the quiet between you now layered with things unspoken and understood. The weight of who he is lingers, but so does the warmth of his hand still holding yours.

“I don’t like flying,” Ji-yong admits, breaking the silence, “No one ever guesses that. I do it all the time, but I hate it.”

“Too many people, too little space?” You tease.

He giggles, the sound lighting up the space between you, “Exactly.”

A comfortable rhythm falls between you as you walk past closed shops and pools of lamplight. Eventually, he takes the lead instead towards a quieter street and stops in front of a narrow doorway. Above it an ornate sign you’d never seen before.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“A place I go when I need to disappear for a bit,” He says, “Not many people know about this.”

The door creaks open to reveal a small private rooftop, string lights casting golden halos across the wooden deck. There’s a small bench, a heater glowing in the corner, and candles lit on the edge sitting nearby. You look around the space, the quiet beauty of it hitting you like a wave. It’s private in a way most things in his life arent. If this was something he planned, it wasn’t just to impress. It was to share something intimate that couldn’t be shouted on a stage.

It makes your chest tighten, because you don’t know how long you get to keep this. This closeness, this version of him. The part of him that vanishes when the cameras start flashing.

“Wait… did you plan this?” you ask.

Ji-yong’s lips tug into a slow smile, “Maybe.”

You sit beside him on the bench, watching the light of the candle flickering without questioning how or when it was lit. The stars are barely visible above the city haze, but the only one that matters sits right beside you. 

Ji-yong exhales slowly, gaze angled upward, “This part of my life- it usually doesn’t feel real,” He murmurs, “Too many lights, eyes. Right now though, it feels right.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you shift a little closer instead. Your knees bump, and his pinky brushes against yours. He hesitates for a moment before his pinky fully goes over the top of yours, all but obvious it was intended all along.

“You ever think about disappearing?” He asks, quieter this time.

You look over at him, surprised, “You?”

“Sometimes,” He nods, “Not forever, just… long enough to remember who I was before all of this.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. It dawns on you everything you’ve known about him: how long he’d been apart of the industry, since he was a kid. If he would even have something to remember, or perhaps a whole side of himself he never knew.

“If you ever do, I hope you’ll take me with you,” You settle on speaking softly.

You don’t mean to, but a picture forms in your mind: him in a hoodie three sizes too big, barefoot in a beach town where no one calls him ‘idol’ or ‘genius.’ Just Ji-yong and you, laughing into the sound of ocean wind, far from headlines and cameras. It strikes you how easily that image comes to mind and you attempt to push it away with little success.

His head turns toward you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You echo, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest.

You glance sideways, catching the way he looks at you. Not with hunger, not even curiosity. With recognition. It’s the kind of look that makes your throat tighten and your skin feel too tight for your body. The kind that says: I see you. And worse- maybe you see me too.

He leans in- closer than before- and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His lips brush yours in the quietest promise, soft and searching. No performance, no rushing. His hand tentatively reached up to up the side of your face, cherishing you as you kissed him back. You should’ve seen it coming and yet somehow you managed to be pleasantly surprised by it.

You exhale against his mouth when it breaks, his forehead pressing gently to yours. Your hand finds the fabric of his sleeve and clings, just a little. You don’t mean to, but the thought of him pulling away feels like leaving somewhere warm and safe. A shelter in a storm. It doesn’t feel like a beginning or an end, rather a bookmark pressed into the middle of something unwritten. You’re not sure if you’ll be allowed another page, and the thought terrifies you more than you want to admit.

“I don’t know what we are yet,” He admits, “But I want to find out. With you.”

In that moment, the hush of the world and the warmth of his hand, you believe him- even though you don’t want to leave. It feels like a dream suspended in time. Then night slips away faster, and reality remains a cruel reminder tugging off the covers.

Ji-yong stretches, reluctant, “I was meant to bring you home, wasn’t I? I should get you home before the sun beats me to it.”

You nod, though neither of you move right away. When you finally stand, he reaches for your hand again like it’s instinct. It’s still surprising, a buzz of heat in your chest, somehow. Still electric. The rest of the walk remains just like before. Soft rubbing circles against your hand. The streets are emptier now, but not completely.

You pass a quiet corner, the kind lined with convenience stores and vending machines, when Ji-yong suddenly stiffens and slows mid-step. You glance to him and catch his gaze not on you and you follow his gaze. Across the street, a parked black van waits. No one is visible beyond the tinted windshield, but something about it sets off a quiet alarm in your head. Ji-yong doesn’t stop walking, but you feel the shift in his posture. Your stomach drops. Not with panic, exactly, but the ache of a moment dissolving before it was ready to end. You don’t look at him right away. You feel his energy change, and that alone is enough.

“Don’t look,” He speaks under his breath, he’s standing taller now, holding himself in more of a bundle, “Just keep walking.”

When he speaks, you glance up. His voice is low and firm, that tight bundle of calculation settling over his features like well-crafted armor. You hate how fast he has to change, how quickly the magic must fold back into secrecy. Yet he does it so gracefully, like he’s done it a thousand times. You ache for him, because you know he has.

“Paparazzi?” you whisper, trying to sound calm despite your heart stuttering.

Despite his warning you can’t help but glance back at the van, just as quickly forcing yourself to take your eyes off it even as you swear you see a flash of light out of the corner of your eye. You shake your head at him, attempting to let it brush off you. “That’s not what I care about,” You murmur as his gaze searches yours.

He’s serious now, in a way you hadn’t seen on the rooftop, “You say it now. This life, the attention? It eats things. Privacy, my own peace.”

You pause once you’re past the conspicuous van, just in front of your place, and pause in your spot, brushing your fingers lightly along the edge of his hoodie he’d pulled up- you hadn’t even realized- “We take what peace we can, rooftop by rooftop.”

He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. There’s something heavier now, something realer. Still, he leaned in. A shorter kiss this time, like punctuation. When he pulls back, he hesitates. His hand lingers on your arm.

“You’re going to wake up tomorrow, check your phone, and see speculation. Maybe worse. If you don't want to keep seeing me-”

“Ji-yong,” you cut in, voice steady despite the butterflies, “Let me decide what I can handle.”

“He stares at you for a beat too long, then nods, “I’ll call you.”

You smile and reach beside yourself, taking the door handle in hand, “Try not to smile at your phone this time, you’ll embarrass yourself.”

“No promises,” His grin returns, his eyes sparkle with that unguarded charm.

He’s gone just like that, disappearing down the street. It’s a little alarming, how a man so popular and obvious is gone just like that. Your heart races, your phone buzzing in your pocket. Back inside your apartment, you barely make it to the hallway before your phone buzzes again. 

A group chat, a friend’s message: “Tell me this isn’t you. 😳”

Below it’s a grainy photo of the two of you.It’s unmistakeable, even with the blur, his scarf visible and the way his hand gently cradles yours. Your stomach flips, because something about that image is real. In a way that matters. You should feel fear, maybe shame. Instead, you feel protective of him and the moment. Of the way he looked at you when the world wasnt watching, and now it was too late to take back. Maybe it wasn’t meant to stay hidden.

Just like that, you know: maybe you’re already deeper than you thought. Maybe that’s the risk, maybe thats the point.

Daring to check the first notification, you spot a tweet with that very same photo with an already trending caption: #GDRAGONDATE?

-

taglist: @petersasteria, @sherrayyyyy, @loveesiren, @aizshallnotbefound, @breakmeoff

[samuelsdean]

Take A Bite

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: the hunt loomed, a constant shadow. but for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. maybe that was enough, for now.

genre: fluff

word count: 0.6k

author's notes: my first ever dean winchester fic! and of course, it's fluff. this one's extra fluffy and tooth-rotting because he deserves all the love and pie in the world. have fun reading this one!

GREASY SPOON DINERS WERE PRACTICALLY A SECOND HOME TO YOU AND DEAN. After weeks on the road, chasing whatever monster plagued this random unsuspecting town, a decent burger and stale black coffee felt like a five-star feast. You slid into the red vinyl booth across from Dean, the air thick with the aroma of frying onions and something vaguely resembling a pie. Dean's favorite

"Double cheeseburger, fries extra crispy, milkshake," Dean said to the waitress, a practiced routine etched into the lines on his face. "And your apple pie, make that two slices."

You chuckled at Dean's predictability. One thing about the hunter is that he'll never miss out on ordering pie if it is ever on the menu. You mirrored his order, minus the pie and milkshake, opting for a Coke instead, as a comfortable silence settled between you.

"You know, Dean, it'll never hurt you to cut back on the sugar and fat," you poked at the man's elbow. "You're what? 30 years old? You could die from all the cholesterol you ingest."

Dean shoved another greasy fry into his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Woman," he mumbled around the food, "first of all, I'm twenty-five, almost twenty-six now. Second, cholesterol never killed any Winchester. Besides, haven't you seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer? The girl practically lives on coffee and Pop-Tarts, and she still kicks major demon butt. The point is, you gotta live a little. Besides, pie's calling my name." He jerked his head and smirked towards the display case where a monstrous slice of apple pie sat, practically begging to be devoured.

It wasn't always like this, these quiet moments punctuated by the clinking of silverware. There were times, hunts gone sideways, when the air crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy. But there was also a language you'd developed, a shorthand built on shared experiences and unspoken affection.

The waitress slid your plates across the chipped Formica counter. As you reached for your burger, Dean's hand shot out, snagging a fry. He popped it into his mouth with a wink.

"Always gotta have the first bite," he said around a mouthful of crispy oily goodness—as how Dean would describe the meal.

You rolled your eyes, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, this ritual of offering the first or last bite. It started years ago, on a particularly brutal hunt that left you both famished and frayed. Dean had insisted you take the last sliver of pie, a silent promise that he'd take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

You speared a fry and held it out to him. "Only because you saved me from the mystery meat surprise last week."

He chuckled, taking the fry and returning the favor by breaking off a piece of his pie before taking a bite. The practice continued throughout the meal, a silent banter intertwined with the rhythm of chewing and swallowing. It's like second nature between you two.

"So," Dean said, finally wiping his grease-stained fingers on a napkin, "what kind of son of a bitch are we whacking this time?"

You launched into the details the local college professor had shared, a tremor of interest lacing your voice. As you spoke, Dean listened intently, smiling now and then with how nerdy you sounded. He liked it when you go off on your tangents about whatever monster it was you were about to hunt. While doing so, Dean occasionally reached across the table to steal a fry or offer a piece of his pie. It wasn't a grand gesture, this sharing of food, but in the quiet hum of the diner, it felt like everything.

The hunt loomed, a constant shadow. But for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. Maybe that was enough, for now.

[cera-writes]

How about Nightcrawler falling for Remy's honorary sibling?

Moonlight Sonata

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!reader Tags: fluff, humor, flirting, baking, slight competition, developing feelings

The scent of fresh pastries mingled in the air, a peculiar scent that had become strangely comforting to Kurt Wagner.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you knead dough with surprising finesse for someone who could lift a priceless artifact from a guarded vault without breaking a sweat. You hadn't even noticed him yet. You were in your own little world it seemed.

Gambit, ever the charmer, had introduced you to the X-Men as a "distant cousin" from New Orleans with a knack for "acquiring rare finds." Professor X, ever the pragmatist, saw the potential in your unique ability to manipulate probability, making you an invaluable asset for training the team. But over time, Kurt had discovered you were more than just a valuable asset.

You possessed a dry wit that rivaled Logan's, a fierce protectiveness that mirrored Ororo's, and a surprising talent for pastry. Your μπεκλαβές (mezeklaves), a flaky Greek cheese pie, had become a favorite amongst the X-Men, even the health-conscious ones (though they wouldn't admit it).

Tonight, however, the kitchen was empty except for you. Kurt, ever the teleporter with a conscience, decided to make his presence known with a gentle, "Guten Abend."

You whirled around, a dusting of flour on your cheek, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Kurt! Ya scared the bejeezus outta me." Your voice was laced with an accent similar to Gambit's, which Kurt found endearing.

Kurt chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the shadows themselves. "Apologies, Meine Freund. I did not mean to startle you." He bamfed beside you, the brimstone scent that clung to him momentarily overwhelmed by the aroma of butter and sugar.

"No harm done," you said, patting some flour off your apron. "Just surprised to see you here. Thought you preferred the… darker corners."

"There is a certain charm to moonlight," Kurt admitted, "but the company is even more delightful."

Your smile faltered slightly, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. "Are you… complimentin' me, fuzzy elf?"

"Only stating a fact," Kurt replied, his own blue fur dusting a faint pink. "You bring a certain… warmth to the kitchen. A welcome change from the usual… chaos."

Your smile returned, wider this time. "Well, someone has to keep Remy in line," you said, a playful jab at your honorary brother. "Though between you and me, I'm the better cook. Jus' don't tell him that."

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with shared stories and laughter. As the night deepened, Kurt found himself lingering longer, captivated by the way your mischievous glint sort of mirrored Remy's in your eyes. When you finally stretched, a hint of weariness in your movements, Kurt surprised himself by blurting out, "Perhaps you would… care to join me for a walk… under the actual moonlight, I mean."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Just the moonlight, huh, Kurt? No shadows, no surprise teleports to some forgotten realm?"

Kurt felt a familiar warmth creep up his neck. "Only… pleasant company, my friend. I assure you."

You considered him for a moment, then a slow smile spread across your face. "Alright, Kurt. But if you try anythin', I won't hesitate to manipulate the odds and send you tumblin' into a vat of flour."

A teasing glint flickered in your eyes, and Kurt couldn't help but grin back. "A vat of flour, you say? Sounds like a messy proposition. Perhaps a stroll on the balcony would be a safer choice?" He gestured towards the large glass doors leading outside, moonlight already casting an ethereal glow on the patio furniture.

You dusted a stray bit of flour off your shoulder, your gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary. "Maybe you're right, fuzzy elf. Sides, I wouldn't want to risk ruinin' these." You gestured towards a fragrant pan of pastries cooling on the counter. "Remy's been braggin' about my skills to Stormy all week. Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

Kurt chuckled, a warmth blooming in his chest. "Storm wouldn't dare challenge your culinary prowess, even with Remy vouching for her. But perhaps I could offer a different kind of challenge on our walk?"

You quirked an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice. "Oh yeah? And what kind of challenge might that be, Nightcrawler?"

Kurt leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How about a test of your probability manipulation skills? We could see who can find the most… interesting object under the moonlight."

A slow smile spread across your face, the mischievous glint in your eyes mirroring his own. "Now that's a challenge I can get behind. Just don't come cryin' to me if you end up teleporting into the Danger Room by accident."

Kurt threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. "Never underestimate Kurt Wagner, Schatz. Let's just say, I have a certain… affinity for finding unexpected things."

With a playful wink, you grabbed a clean dish towel and wiped your hands. "Alright then, furball. Lead the way. But be warned, I have a knack for finding trouble… and sometimes, trouble finds me."

Kurt offered you his arm, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Then perhaps tonight, trouble will find something delightful instead."

Together, you stepped out onto the moonlit balcony, the promise of a playful competition and a blossoming connection hanging heavy in the cool night air.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Heya again!! <333 as per tradition, before I put an order, I want to say ty for feeding the PP fandom and I hope you're doing well <333 may whatever you're planning to write, original or fandom, be successful!

May I order a blast in the past, where the Hour of Joy hasn't started, Caretaker! Reader is yet again an employee at Playtime Co. and they happened to find out about the rejected isle and they were overwhelmed by the sheer cuteness and charm of the toys, they do kinda get why some of them were rejected but thought mostly they were fine.

For the sake of the plot, they got to keep the toys and bring them home with permission from the higher ups ( wow reader charisma 💯 ). As they're happily making their way back, Catnap noticed them carrying this unknown toy, giving it affection, and overall just showering it with love from the shadows and gets quite pouty about it. So much so that the rest of the smiling critters had to pry it out of him to tell them what he saw and oh boy, they too were quite pouty.

Dogday tries to reassure them that everything's alright and they agreed to " ask " more like interrogating the reader the next time they come in to work. When that happens, Reader is caught red-handed still giving that rejected toy their love and affection, Dogday sends the rest of the group off so he and Catnap could talk it out with Reader more privately. Ends with them getting the full story and the smiling critters getting their fair share of love and affection, especially Catnap who's by the way still pouting about the whole ordeal 😂

I really just wanna see this sleepy cat having someone else he could actually trust as a parent figure and him just getting worried that his place might be taken away by some rejected toy 🥹 ahhh I'm starting to love him more and more slowly,, the Smiling Critters are such babies and I love themmmm

Signs Of Love

Note || yesss insomnia kitty needs love, all of em need love 💕

WC || 1,931

Sypnosis || Misunderstandings occur, but as quickly as they come, they can also very much leave.

You were quite the lover of many things, having been assigned to be a caretaker when your superiors saw how well you integrated yourself into the role at your interview. They are quite fond of you and all their other caretakers, since they know you all (you and the rest of the caretakers) are the only ones able to keep all the toys and children in line. 

Though the children were mostly left to the Playcare Attendants as the caretakers were more or less focused on the toys themselves. It was without a hint of a doubt, you certainly had garnered the attention of many toys. Some who liked you, though it really was the Smiling Critters who liked you more than most.

Yet when you found out about the rejected toys, you thought it was really saddening that they were even rejected in the first place – though you understood why – you just wanted to simply take them home with you!

Deciding to try and convince a higher-up to take one home, that is exactly what you did.

“Ma’am, please look at this adorable potato!” You held up the rejected toy in your hands, clearly enough for your superior who shrunk back in surprise against her recliner chair. She let out an exasperated sigh, recollecting herself as she adjusted her position on the seat.

“I am well aware,” She begins, gesturing to the rejected toy. “But by no means are you allowed to take it home, rejected or not–it is still company property.”

You frown as you search your mind for conceivable reasoning to convince your superior, you sigh as the toy falls out of your hands, landing on your lap. “W-well, maybe I could keep it for a little while?” You jump up, your hands landing straightforwardly on her desk. “Like a-a security precaution!” 

A frown adorns her face in return to your earlier one, crossing her arms across the top of the desk as gently as she possibly could. Appearing to be searching your face for any lying or incompetence, her shoulders slump in defeat. “Very well, if you insist.”

“Keep it.”

You let out a yelp of success, almost falling backward as you did so. You grin, an exasperated noise leaving your throat as you cautiously upright yourself, as to not uproot or accidentally change her mind in turn. Your hands make their way to your superiors, shaking them to be polite. “Thank you thank you! You won’t regret this.” You smile at her, then let go of her hand as she is left in befuddlement by the actions that had just happened. 

Normally you weren’t much of an extroverted person, only conversing and confronting social situations when necessary. But you had simply felt joy bursting through your veins at the accomplishment you had achieved, to convince a superior to let you keep the rejected toy! (One of the rejected toys at least, you couldn’t do much else for the rest as much as you wanted too) Now you were making your way back, rejected toy in hand and you had a lot of affection to give it.

Too bad it wasn’t alive as much as the other toys you knew were, but at least it was alive in your own heart.

A familiar figure in the distance resting on a rooftop had taken notice of this quite easily, may it be quite the discovery they had found. CatNap couldn’t let this go unnoticed, a strange pang resided in the depths of his hollow yet dense chest. The giant cat couldn’t pinpoint the feeling he felt, not knowing what name to put to the feeling he felt so strongly, like a parasite it wouldn’t leave him alone.

He felt a strange guise of loneliness, noticing how much you began giving the unknown toy such a sudden bout of affection and hugging. Even nuzzling it as well to boot, CatNap was jealous?

How strange, CatNap wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept of emotions. Even with how certain ones could flare up at times, depending in response to the situation, whatever one he may be in. CatNap got up, stretching his finely tuned legs. CatNap wasn’t prepared for the others to pry the information out of him, trying to figure out what he saw and knew. He almost felt a little intimated, but he was… in the sense very emotional–even beneath his sleepy and quiet demeanor.

Then he could feel himself justified for the guilt of jealousy.

Well, CatNap certainly did expect the outcry, all at the same time he truly didn’t expect it either. The group, he felt rightly justified in their emotions as he had reported it to them, he too was quite in earnest – very jealous of the unknown toy. KickinChicken spoke externally with the whole of his heart, “This sucks! Why does that toy get more love than we do?”

“I wanted a hug!” Bobby cried, sitting on the floor as Crafty had patted her back, trying to gently soothe her. The colorful unicorn too was upset, yet she hid it very well. Picky had remained quiet, just stuffing her face with an apple to conceal her upset, she had big emotions and wasn’t sure on how to deal with them unlike the rest of the Smiling Critters.

Hoppy on the other hand was pounding the ground with her feet, hopping around so as to not completely create noise. She was woefully upset too as it appeared to CatNap, he hadn’t expected any of them to take this information the way they did. But they had pried it out of him, He didn't know what they were expecting to hear anyway.

CatNap’s voice came out short and strained as he made an attempt to comfort any of them, “It’s ok–” His voice fell on deaf ears, CatNap huffed a puff of red air. His tail lapping about, then overlaying to rest upon his left leg.

Bubba was muttering to himself, rapidly tapping his feet. As if his intellect could formulate a reason as to why this had happened, alas CatNap knew the elephant was simply just trying to find reason in coping with his emotion.

Believe it or not, CatNap pays very good attention to all the Smiling Critters. They are his friends after all.

“Guys!--” The group still went on, continuously upset. No means of comfort getting through to them. “GUYS.”

His visibly noticeable purple fur rustled about as he sat down, noticing that DogDay was finally back in leadership mode. CatNap didn’t know what to do to calm them all down anyway, he was pouty and upset as they were. DogDay spoke slowly, “I’ll ask Angel what’s up, maybe we just don’t understand it fully. Okay?”

The group notices, finally relenting in defeat. None of them questioned him as DogDay always had a way with words usually, he wasn’t one to go wrong as he was the leader of the group for a very good reason.

As the group clamored to find you, you weren’t that hard to find surprisingly. Mostly as you were hard to find other times, they could all easily see that you were still found with the rejected toy. Sitting back on your chair that you had found, and giving it all the affection that had made a few members quite pouty.

“Guys, let's take it easy. Me and CatNap will talk with Angel alone,” DogDay motions for them to take their leave, holding out his hands before he elaborated. “Let’s not take it personally, okay? I don’t think it’s that complicated.” 

KickinChicken sighs, as Bobby and the other few do. They all take their leave, showing that Hoppy was still there. She points at DogDay, then CatNap who was confused by the predicament. A silent gesture.

Nothing weird boys, you got that?

DogDay nods at Hoppy, who finally leaves as she hops away to rejoin the rest of the group. CatNap taps DogDay’s shoulder, gesturing that he should take the lead on this chat. His own paw comes up to pat CatNap’s, “I know bud, but let’s not overdo this.”

If the sunny leader were to be honest right about now, he too felt a pang of jealousy at the lack of affection and attention that he hadn’t received like his fellow critters. 

You were aimlessly cooing at the rejected toy, happily partaking in giving it all manners of affection (nothing weird, ahem). It certainly had a charm and adorableness too it that you couldn’t ignore, you have no idea as to why the designers and superiors had rejected this design or any other one in the reject aisle that you saw for that matter. 

Suddenly you felt a creeping chill crawl up your spine, traveling thoroughly all the ways to your shoulders and sides. 

Feeling two taps on your shoulder almost had you jolting, causing you to turn around to see CatNap and DogDay standing right behind you, albeit very menacingly from your perspective. “DogDay? E-eh CatNap?!” 

DogDay waved his hands, trying his best to reassure you, “Sorry we didn’t mean to frighten you like that Angel!” CatNap nodded along with DogDay’s words, doing his best to affirm that fact. You sigh in relief, hand very visibly held to your chest.

“So..” You straighten your posture as DogDay and CatNap came around you and sat down, to really level with you at most. “What’s up? Anything bothering you or the others?” You shrug, jabbing a questioning thumb as you spoke, directly in the general direction. They both knew what you meant, but they had more pressing matters.

DogDay let out a breath, before he spoke as to steel his nerves. CatNap deadpans, directed toward DogDay, emotional expression clearly evident despite the restriction of movement his own mouth has. “Well, we just… uh, wanted to know what was up with you.” DogDay pauses, then pointed at the toy which was unknown to him laying in your lap.

“And that.” He emphasized, wincing as he searched your face for any reaction. Suddenly what had surprised the two was how you began to laugh and giggle, waving your hand as the other clutched your stomach.

“Ah.. I’m sorry.” You shook your head, wiping your face. “Were you boys… perhaps jealous of this?” A small grin plasters on your face, with convoluted happiness as you held up the toy in question.

DogDay felt embarrassed, looking away as to not stutter or speak any words. CatNap sighed in reprieve, laying his head upon his front legs. Those actions alone had answered your question that effortlessly. “I see..” You couldn’t help but try and stifle the giggle, they were simply so adorable.

Them, jealous? It’s so cute. You really couldn’t resist their pouty moods, so you calm them down, proceeding to tell them the whole story so they didn’t have a misinformed perception of the situation.

You happily spread your loving and hugs to all the Smiling Critters and CatNap individually.

Albeit, CatNap was a little embarrassed that he had saw your situation with the rejected toy incorrectly. Feeling as if he might’ve been replaced.

You had reassured him individually as you had taken your time with each of the members, “I would never replace you CatNap! There’s always room for everyone..”

“Even you.”

You grin, booping CatNap’s nose. He recoiled back as he had the set revelation, CatNap slumped as he gave in to your very touchy movements. Feeling your hands thread throughout his fur, CatNap was content that he now knew.

He really had no reason to worry.

He truly was loved.

[sonezp]

The Young Actor Part 3

Elias’s mind raced with possibilities, the thrill of his newfound power pushing him to take the next step. To bring Amir into the living world, he needed access—a chance to get close to Raheel. The key to possessing Raheel’s body wasn’t just proximity; it was influence. Trust. Elias needed to get Amir inside Raheel’s life and make the spirit believe he was already part of his world. Matthew’s identity, with all its charm and charm, would be the perfect guise.

The basketball court locker room would be the perfect place to start.

Raheel had been training intensely, practicing for an upcoming charity game. He was there, on the court, drenched in sweat, pushing himself to the limit. Elias watched him from the shadows, his eyes darkening with intent. The locker room was where Raheel would go to unwind, where he was most vulnerable, when the world seemed to fade away for a few moments.

Elias’s plan was simple: use Matthew’s identity to gain Raheel’s trust, get close to him, and steer him into a situation where Amir could take over.

Matthew’s body moved with fluid ease as he stepped into the locker room, glancing around casually. He was familiar with the place. He had been here before, part of the celebrity lifestyle, mingling with athletes, actors, and influencers. Raheel wasn’t hard to spot—he stood by the bench, catching his breath, his athletic frame glistening with sweat.

Elias smirked, adjusting Matthew’s appearance as he casually approached. He made sure to look every bit the part of a young man comfortable in his own skin, the kind of person Raheel would easily talk to. He wasn’t just another fan; he was someone familiar, someone who could understand the pressures of public life. And this was where the real manipulation began.

“Raheel,” Elias said, keeping his voice low but confident, the tone of Matthew’s charm slipping naturally into place.

Raheel turned, blinking in surprise, clearly not expecting anyone. He wiped his face with a towel and smiled warmly. “Oh, hey, Matthew! What’s up?”

Elias flashed a grin, his eyes narrowing in on Raheel’s athletic build, letting the heat of the moment rush through his veins. “You know, I just wanted to check in. I’ve been watching your game. You’ve been killing it out there.”

Raheel chuckled modestly, shrugging. “Thanks, man. It’s been tough. But you know how it is—always pushing myself.”

Elias’s gaze lingered on the athlete’s body for a moment too long, but Raheel didn’t notice. “I get it. But you should take a break, enjoy yourself a little. You deserve it.” He stepped closer, feigning a relaxed confidence as if they had known each other for years.

Raheel smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s hard to stop when you’re in the zone.”

Elias could feel his spirit stirring. This was it—Amir was nearby, already sensing the presence of his new vessel. But Elias needed to make sure Raheel trusted him first, to close the gap that would allow the transition.

“Well,” Elias said, his voice lowering slightly as if sharing a secret. “I get it. But you know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He paused, ensuring he had Raheel’s full attention. “How would you feel about a little... change of pace? A fresh start, a new energy. You’ve been working so hard, Raheel. You deserve a break. Maybe I could help?”

Raheel tilted his head, intrigued but still cautious. “What do you mean?”

Elias stepped even closer, his hand brushing lightly against Raheel’s shoulder, pretending it was an innocent gesture, but in truth, it was a calculated move—one that would further solidify their bond. “I know people, people who can help you take things to the next level. I can introduce you to the right crowd, help you get the peace of mind you need.”

Raheel seemed to consider it for a moment. “I don’t know, Matthew... I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Sometimes, you just have to take a step back,” Elias pressed, his voice smooth. “You’ve got potential, Raheel. Let me help you. Trust me. You don’t have to do it alone.”

It was at that exact moment that Elias felt it—the change in the atmosphere. The temperature in the locker room dropped, and the air grew heavy with a pressure that only spirits could feel. Amir was near. He was listening, waiting.

Raheel, unsuspecting, nodded slowly, the lure of something different, something new, sinking in. “Alright, man,” he finally said, smiling slightly. “Maybe you’re right. I could use a change.”

That was all Elias needed. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Good. I knew you’d see it my way.”

Amir was already floating closer, and as the tension thickened, Elias reached out with his mind, giving Amir the final nudge. The ghost surged forward, entering Raheel’s body in an invisible wave—a silent possession that would alter the course of both of their lives.

Raheel’s eyes widened for a brief second, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. His muscles tensed, as if the weight of an unseen presence had just settled over him. But then the moment passed.

Elias smiled, now not only in control of Matthew’s form but also guiding Amir’s spirit into Raheel’s. He could feel it—the warmth, the strength, the life that filled Raheel’s body.

The young actor was no longer just Raheel Bhyria. He was now Amir. And together, they were unstoppable.

Elias stepped back, watching as Raheel—no, Amir—adjusted, his gaze sharpening. A flicker of realization passed through his eyes. He was different now.

“This is just the beginning,” Elias murmured, knowing the transformation had begun.

The locker room door opened, and someone else walked in, unaware of the silent exchange that had just taken place.

But Elias and Amir knew—they were no longer ghosts.

[kaylovestwd]

Movie night with the walking dead men

( Rick Grimes, Negan Smith, Daryl Dixon)

The day is done. The walkers are quiet, for now. The walls of Alexandria feel a little less like a cage and a little more like a haven. And right now, all that matters is the soft glow of the screen, the comforting weight of Rick's arm around you, and the simple joy of a movie night.

The living room in your shared house in Alexandria is dimly lit, primarily by the flickering light of the TV screen. A couple of candles are burning, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth and intimacy to the space.

You've draped a thick, hand-knitted blanket over the back of the well-worn sofa – a relic from before, a reminder of comfort and normalcy.

Pillows are strategically placed, creating a cozy nest designed for maximum relaxation. This is your sanctuary, your escape from the harsh realities of the world outside.

The air smells faintly of woodsmoke from the fireplace and the sweet scent of the popcorn you just made.

It's a classic. Something light-hearted, something familiar. Maybe an old rom-com, a feel-good adventure film, or even a cheesy action movie. Something that requires minimal brainpower after a long day of scavenging and securing the community.

Rick initially feigned indifference about the movie selection, claiming he "doesn't much care for them moving picture shows." But you saw the small smile playing on his lips when you suggested [Insert Movie Title Here] – a movie you both secretly enjoy.

The volume is kept low, a quiet hum in the background. Not low enough to miss the dialogue, but quiet enough to allow for conversation, hushed whispers, and comfortable silences.

Popcorn, of course. Lightly buttered, with just the right amount of salt. You made sure to sneak in some chocolate candies too, hidden beneath the popcorn for a sweet surprise.

Two chipped mugs filled with steaming hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows that slowly melt into the warm liquid.

He occasionally steals a handful of your popcorn, his fingers brushing against yours in the bowl. It's a small gesture, but it sends a shiver of warmth through you.

He sits close, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. It's a comforting weight, a constant reminder of his strength and protection.

His body is warm against yours, radiating a sense of security that eases the ever-present tension in your shoulders.

He smells faintly of sweat, leather, and the outdoors – a familiar and comforting scent that you've come to associate with safety.

He's more relaxed than you've seen him in days. The lines around his eyes seem a little softer, the set of his jaw a little less tense. Movie night is working its magic.

During a particularly funny scene, he lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. You can feel the vibration against your side, a comforting connection.

He occasionally glances down at you, a soft smile gracing his lips. It's a silent acknowledgment of your shared moment, a quiet appreciation for your company.

Sometimes, he'll run a hand through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. It's a simple gesture of affection that melts away the stress of the day.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He instinctively tightens his grip, pulling you closer.

As the movie progresses, the room grows darker, the candlelight casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.

Rick's grip tightens almost protectively when a threatening scene comes on. He might not always show it, but this world has made him even more protective of you.

During a quiet moment in the film, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. It's a chaste, tender gesture, filled with unspoken affection.

You find yourself drawn to the warmth he gives from his presence, finding yourself drifting in and out of the movie as you realize how much you want to fall into his arms and be with him.

You snuggle closer, tucking your hand into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, holding you tight. The simple act of holding hands feels incredibly intimate, a silent promise of unwavering support.

There's a comfortable silence between you, a shared understanding that transcends words. You don't need to talk, you just need to be together.

Maybe, during a particularly romantic scene, he'll turn to you, his eyes searching yours. A silent question hangs in the air, an invitation to deepen the moment.

If you respond with a smile, he'll lean in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It's a soft, sweet kiss, filled with tenderness and longing.

The kiss deepens gradually, becoming more passionate, more insistent. His hand moves from your hair to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

The movie fades into the background as you lose yourselves in each other. The world outside ceases to exist, and all that matters is the connection between you and Rick.

The kiss breaks, leaving you breathless and flushed. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked.

By the end of the movie, you're both half-asleep, snuggled together on the couch.

Rick's breathing is slow and even, a sign that he's finally relaxed.

You reach up and gently brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

He stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He looks at you, a soft smile on his lips.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice rough with sleep.

"For what?" you ask, your voice equally soft.

"For this," he says, gesturing to the room around you. "For everything."

You smile. "Anytime."

He closes his eyes again, pulling you closer.

You know that tomorrow will bring new challenges, new dangers. But for tonight, you're safe, you're loved, and you're together. And that's all that matters.

As you drift off to sleep in Rick's arms, you realize that these small moments of normalcy are what make life in this new world bearable. They're the threads that hold you together, the reminders that even in the darkest of times, there is still love, hope, and the simple joy of a movie night with the one you love.

This is your time. And more importantly, it's your and Negan’s time.

The ritual begins subtly. A shared glance across the room during dinner, a lingering touch as you pass in the hallway, a mutual understanding that something special is about to happen.

He might wink, that mischievous glint in his eye that always makes your heart flutter. Or he might simply say, "Alright, darlin'. Movie night?" his voice rough but tender around the edges.

The destination: Your shared living space. It's not fancy. Comfort is key. A worn but plush couch, a soft blanket draped artfully, and the faint scent of lavender from the candle you lit earlier.

This is where the negotiations begin, and they’re always playful. You might suggest a classic romance, something with sweeping landscapes and a bittersweet love story. He might counter with an action flick, full of explosions and witty one-liners.

Sometimes you compromise. Sometimes you let him win (because, let's face it, seeing him genuinely excited is a reward in itself). And sometimes, miraculously, you both land on the same page.

The choice isn't as important as the act of choosing together. It's about sharing preferences, teasing each other, and finding common ground, even in the smallest of things.

Negan loves the old DVDs you managed to scavenge. He handles them like precious artifacts, carefully placing them in the player. He still doesn't quite understand the modern streaming, he calls it "witchcraft".

Once the movie is chosen, the real magic begins. You dim the lights, casting the room in a soft, inviting glow.

Negan, ever the gentleman (underneath that rough exterior), makes sure you’re comfortable. He fluffs the pillows, adjusts the blanket, and makes sure you have everything you need within arm's reach.

He’ll probably bring you a drink, maybe some whiskey (for him) and a cup of tea (for you), with a little something sweet on the side. He remembers your preferences, the little things that make you smile.

He’ll settle in beside you, close but not crowding. Giving you space, but always making sure you know he's there. The couch dips slightly with his weight, and a comforting warmth radiates from his presence.

The opening credits roll, and the world outside fades away. You're cocooned in your little haven, lost in the story unfolding on the screen.

Negan isn't one to sit still for long. He'll often drape an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Or he might gently take your hand, his calloused fingers intertwining with yours.

He’ll make comments throughout the film, sometimes witty, sometimes insightful, always engaging. He has a surprisingly good eye for detail, picking up on nuances that you might have missed.

He’ll tease you during the romantic scenes, whispering things like, "See, darlin'? That's how it's done." And he’ll probably steal a kiss, just to prove his point.

During intense moments, you might find yourself instinctively reaching for him. His grip will tighten reassuringly, a silent promise that he’s there to protect you, always.

He loves it when you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He’ll brush a kiss against your hair, a silent acknowledgment of your closeness.

Sometimes, he'll fall asleep. The rise and fall of his chest is a calming rhythm, his arm a heavy but comforting weight around you. You’ll quietly watch the movie, content in his presence, until the credits roll.

He pays attention to your reactions – a gasp during a suspenseful scene, a tear during a sad one, a smile during a happy one. He mirrors your emotions, sharing in your experience.

He'll ask you questions about the plot, genuinely curious about your thoughts and interpretations. He values your opinion, even on something as trivial as a movie.

He might playfully mimic lines from the movie, adopting a ridiculous accent or exaggerating a character's mannerisms, just to make you laugh.

If you get cold, he'll pull the blanket tighter around you, or offer you his jacket. He's always thinking of your comfort, even when he's engrossed in the film.

And if you happen to doze off? He’ll gently lift you into his arms and carry you to bed, tucking you in with a tenderness that belies his gruff exterior.

These movie nights aren't just about watching a film. They're about connection, about building a bond that goes deeper than words.

It’s about the shared laughter, the comfortable silences, the unspoken understanding that passes between you.

It's about feeling safe, loved, and cherished in the arms of the man you adore, even in the midst of a world gone mad.

These moments are a refuge, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is still beauty, still joy, still love to be found.

As the movie ends, and the credits start rolling, reality slowly begins to creep back in. But the feeling of warmth and contentment lingers.

You might talk about the movie, dissecting the plot, debating the characters, and sharing your favorite moments.

Or you might simply sit in silence, content to bask in each other's presence.

Before you head to bed, Negan will pull you close for a final embrace. He’ll whisper a goodnight in your ear, his voice rough with affection.

"Love you, darlin'," he’ll say, and you know, without a doubt, that he means it with every fiber of his being.

As you drift off to sleep, the scent of him lingering on your pillow, you'll smile, knowing that you have found something truly special, something worth fighting for, in this chaotic world: a love that is both fierce and tender, a love that makes even the darkest nights feel a little bit brighter.

These movie nights are your sanctuary, a testament to the enduring power of love and connection in a world that often feels devoid of both. And with Negan by your side, you know that you can face anything, as long as you have each other.

After a long day of scavenging, clearing walkers, and just trying to survive, there's nothing quite like the simple comfort of winding down with Daryl. Movie night has become your little tradition, a stolen moment of peace in a world that rarely offers any. Here’s how it usually goes:

The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across Alexandria (or whatever safe haven you've found). You can hear the distant crackle of the campfire and the quiet murmur of conversations.

Daryl, always the silent guardian, usually finishes his patrol, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. You watch him approach, the lines etched on his face softening ever so slightly as he sees you.

He doesn't say much, maybe a grunt or a nod, but his eyes tell you he's ready to relax too. That's your cue.

You start preparing your spot. Maybe it’s a cozy corner of a shared house, a blanket spread out on the rooftop under the stars, or even just the back of a truck under a makeshift tarp. The location changes, but the feeling is always the same: safe and together.

The choices are limited. Finding a working DVD player and a generator that doesn’t attract walkers is a victory in itself.

You might have a small stash of DVDs you’ve managed to scavenge. Old classics, action flicks, maybe even a romantic comedy or two (though you keep those hidden when Daryl's around, just in case).

Daryl usually feigns indifference. "Whatever you wanna watch," he'll mumble, but you know he secretly appreciates the distraction.

Sometimes, you end up watching the same movie over and over because it’s the only one that still works. It doesn't matter. It's about the shared experience.

Occasionally, you find a gem – a movie you both haven’t seen. Those nights are special, filled with anticipation and quiet excitement.

You gather the essentials: blankets, pillows, and maybe a scavenged sleeping bag if it's cold. Comfort is key.

Snacks are a must, even if it's just some dried fruit or jerky. Sometimes, you get lucky and find a can of soda or a bag of chips. Those are celebratory occasions.

You dim the lights as much as possible, using lanterns or flashlights strategically placed to avoid glare on the screen.

Daryl usually sits beside you, a comfortable distance at first. He’s not one for grand gestures or constant touching, but you know he wants to be close.

The movie starts, and the opening credits roll. The flickering light dances across Daryl’s face, highlighting the rugged angles and the intensity in his eyes.

He’s quiet, focused on the screen. You steal glances at him, appreciating the simple beauty of his presence.

You might make a small comment about the movie, just to break the silence. "I've heard this one's really good," or "This actor is terrible, but the plot is interesting."

Daryl offers a grunt in response, or maybe a short, "Hmm." It's his way of acknowledging you, of letting you know he's listening.

As the movie progresses, the initial distance between you and Daryl starts to shrink. Subtly, almost imperceptibly.

Maybe your shoulders brush, or your hands accidentally touch as you both reach for the same snack.

He doesn't pull away.

Eventually, you find yourself leaning against him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. He tenses slightly at first, then relaxes, settling into the closeness.

His arm might come up, resting on the back of the makeshift couch or draped loosely across your shoulders. It's a silent offer of protection, of comfort, of something more.

During intense scenes, you might find yourself instinctively reaching for his hand. His grip is strong, calloused, and reassuring. He doesn't let go.

If it's a funny scene, you might hear a rare chuckle escape his lips. It's a sound that makes your heart soar, a reminder that even in this bleak world, there's still room for joy.

Sad scenes are different. Daryl doesn’t show much emotion, but you can feel the tension in his body, the subtle clenching of his jaw. You squeeze his hand a little tighter, offering silent support.

Romantic scenes are the most awkward, but also the most telling. Daryl usually shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. But you notice he doesn't turn away. He's still there, still close.

Sometimes, during a lull in the movie, you'll turn to him and catch him looking at you. Not in a creepy way, but with a soft, almost vulnerable expression.

He'll quickly look away, embarrassed, but you know what you saw.

Those are the moments when you feel closest to him, when the unspoken emotions bubble to the surface.

Maybe you'll whisper something in his ear, a simple "Thank you," or "I'm glad we're doing this."

He might just squeeze your hand in response, or murmur a quiet, "Me too."

As the movie nears its end, exhaustion starts to set in. The weight of the day, the constant vigilance, finally catches up.

You might find yourself drifting off, your head resting on Daryl’s shoulder. He doesn't move, allowing you to find a comfortable position.

He’ll stay awake, watching the rest of the movie, his eyes scanning the surroundings, ever the protector.

Eventually, he might gently nudge you awake when the credits roll, or he might just let you sleep, carrying you to a more comfortable bed later.

Waking up next to Daryl is a feeling like no other. Safe, secure, loved.

He’s usually already awake, tending to his duties.

He might offer you a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the night before.

And as you start another day in this brutal world, you carry the warmth of those movie nights with you, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love and connection can still thrive.

These movie nights are your sanctuary, a place where you and Daryl can simply be yourselves, away from the chaos and danger. It’s not about the movie itself, but about the quiet moments, the shared glances, and the unspoken feelings that bind you together. It's about finding love and intimacy in the apocalypse, one movie night at a time.

[driverlando]

✧.* WILD HEARTS

synopsis: In which Oscar takes you on a zoo date for your birthday (Oscar Piastri x fem!reader who’s basically lilli)

authors note- this is a little something I wrote for @maxlarens for her birthday!! I hope you enjoy it Lilli, happy birthday, have the best day ever xx

You had always loved the zoo, so it was no surprise when Oscar took you to one for your birthday.

The summer sun filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the winding paths. The air was filled with the earthy scent of leaves and the distant sounds of animals. Your heart felt light, your fingers interlaced with Oscar’s as you walked. His touch was warm and reassuring, grounding you in the present moment.

You wandered through the lush pathways, your pace leisurely as you took in the sights and sounds around you. At the penguin exhibit, your eyes lit up at the sight of the little creatures waddling about. Oscar’s laughter, rich and contagious, filled the air as he narrated the penguins’ imagined conversations.

“That one over there,” he said, pointing to a particularly energetic penguin, “is clearly the ringleader. Look at him bossing everyone around!”

You giggled, leaning into him. “And the one over there is definitely the mischief-maker,” you added, nodding towards a penguin attempting to steal a fish from another. The two of you stood close, your shoulders brushing, as you watched the penguins splash into the water and swim with surprising speed.

From there, you strolled into the aviary, where vibrant birds flitted about in a burst of colours. The air was alive with the sounds of chirping and the rustle of wings. Oscar paused to snap a few pictures, capturing your awestruck expression as you marvelled at a parrot that had landed nearby, its feathers a dazzling display of blues and greens.

“I think it likes you,” Oscar observed, his tone playful. He tucked his phone back into his pocket, a grin spreading across his face.

You glanced at him, a smile playing on your lips. “Maybe it can sense I’m a good person.”

“Or maybe it’s just hoping for a snack,” he teased, making you laugh. “But honestly, I could watch you all day. You’re even more mesmerising than these birds.”

A blush crept up your cheeks. “Says the F1 driver,” you replied, rolling your eyes affectionately. Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Your next stop was the big cat enclosure. The lions and tigers lounged in the shade, their movements languid and powerful. The sight of these majestic creatures exuded an aura of regal authority. As you stood by the enclosure, watching a lioness stretch lazily, Oscar leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“I think if I were an animal, I’d want to be a lion,” he mused, his voice low and thoughtful. “What about you?”

You thought for a moment, your eyes twinkling. “I think I’d be a swan. Elegant, graceful, and serene.”

Oscar chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “That suits you perfectly,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

As you made your way towards the giraffe enclosure, Oscar led you to a secluded spot with a perfect view. Your breath caught as you noticed a checkered blanket spread out on the grass, complete with a basket full of your favourite treats. The setting was idyllic, the tall giraffes grazing peacefully in the background.

“You did all this for me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

Oscar’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “Of course,” he replied, a tender smile playing on his lips. “I wanted to make your birthday special.”

You settled down on the blanket, the golden afternoon sun casting a warm glow over you. You shared sandwiches, fresh fruit, and sweet pastries, your conversation flowing effortlessly. You felt a deep sense of peace as you leant back against Oscar, your head resting on his shoulder. You watched the giraffes amble gracefully, their long necks swaying gently as they moved.

“You know,” you said softly, your eyes fixed on the majestic animals, “this is one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

Oscar wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. “Me too. Happy birthday, my love.”

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you felt a profound sense of contentment. The zoo around you seemed to quieten down, the day’s end bringing a serene calm.

In that perfect moment, surrounded by the beauty of the zoo and the love of your life, you knew this day would be a cherished memory forever. It was a celebration not just of your birthday, but of the love you shared and the simple, joyful moments that made life truly special.

[your-local-simp-writers]

Ashes of Affection

Word Count: 1610

Warnings: None

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The crisp autumn air danced with the scent of fallen leaves and the faint hint of caramel apples as Halloween approached Night Raven College. Orange and purple lights twinkled around the campus, casting playful shadows that flickered like ghosts in the fading daylight. Pumpkins adorned doorsteps, their grinning faces glowing in the twilight, creating a festive ambiance that filled the air with excitement.

You made your way toward the Ignihyde dormitory, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending time with Idia. You had both agreed to take a break from studying to enjoy the Halloween festivities, and you couldn't wait to see what he had planned.

As you approached his door, you paused to admire the decorations he had set up. Cobwebs stretched across the corners of the doorframe, and a few mischievous plastic spiders hung from the ceiling, creating an eerie yet charming vibe. The faint sounds of video game battle cries emanated from within, mixing with the occasional giggle from passing students in costume.

With a gentle knock, you pushed the door open, revealing the organized chaos of Idia’s room. Cables snaked across the floor like vines, and various gaming posters adorned the walls, each telling a story of epic adventures and battles fought. The air was filled with the comforting mix of popcorn and the sweet smell of candy.

Idia looked up from his screen, his eyes widening behind his signature blue hair and glasses. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. “You came! I mean, not that I expected you not to come. I just thought maybe—” He fumbled over his words, cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he gestured to the mess around him. “Sorry for the mess. I was in the middle of a game.”

You stepped inside, laughing softly. “It’s fine! I love your setup. The decorations are great! It really feels like Halloween in here.” You admired the makeshift haunted house he had built from cardboard boxes, complete with fake bats and a strobe light that flickered eerily.

“Thanks!” Idia said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “I thought I’d make it a little festive. Halloween is my favorite time of year, even if it’s mostly just me gaming in the dark.” His fingers danced nervously over the controller, the excitement evident in his demeanor.

You settled down on the floor next to him, your heart warm at the sight of his enthusiasm. “What are we playing today?”

Idia’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Oh! It’s this new RPG that just came out! You get to build your character from scratch, and there’s this Halloween-themed event where you can unlock spooky outfits! There are monsters and magic and… oh, you’ll love it!” He shifted in his chair, excitement radiating from him as he leaned closer, eager to share every detail.

As he explained the plot and the intricate world-building, you noticed how his nervousness seemed to fade away, replaced by the confident glow of someone sharing a passion. The way his eyes sparkled made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but smile at the passion he displayed.

The hours melted away as you both played, laughter echoing in the room when Idia would dramatically react to in-game events. His animated expressions—eyes widening in shock or his mouth forming an exaggerated ‘O’ of surprise—made it impossible not to feel a connection with him. You found yourself leaning into his shoulder, sharing the comfort of the moment.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the room was illuminated only by the glow of the screen and the occasional flicker of the strobe light, casting soft shadows that danced across Idia’s features. You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind that only grew when you were with him.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting to something more serious. He paused the game, his eyes locking onto yours. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart raced, a mix of curiosity and anxiety bubbling up inside you. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, a hesitant smile creeping onto his face. “Everything I do for you isn’t because I feel obligated. It’s because I love doing it.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous but determined. “I love spoiling you, making you happy. It makes me feel good, knowing that I can make you smile, or laugh, or turn your frown upside down.”

You could feel the sincerity in his words, your heart swelling as he continued. “I want to give you the world, sweetheart. I want to show you way more than that, but the world is all I got. All I can offer.”

His vulnerability was captivating, and you felt a mix of admiration and affection. “Idia, I…” you started, but he interrupted you, his voice lowering to a whisper.

“I don’t know how to kiss, but let me kiss you, and I’ll do it just right.” There was a raw honesty in his expression, and the earnestness behind his words made your heart flutter even faster.

You cupped his cheek gently, feeling the warmth radiate from him. The world around you faded into a soft blur as you stared into his eyes, which reflected a mixture of excitement and fear. “You’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just trust your instincts.”

With that encouragement, Idia leaned in, hesitantly closing the distance. Your breaths mingled, the moment stretching out like a melody before you both finally met in a soft kiss. It was gentle at first, almost like a question, but it quickly deepened as he found his rhythm. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the warmth of his emotions wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

When you finally pulled away, both breathless and wide-eyed, you couldn’t help but laugh. “That was… amazing!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushed with happiness.

“Really?” Idia’s voice was filled with disbelief, his cheeks matching the hue of a sunset. “I mean, I didn’t mess it up completely, right?”

“Not at all!” You grinned, feeling buoyant. “You kissed me like a pro!”

He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

With a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned closer. “Just imagining a love life with you makes me sick,” you teased, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you both. “In the best way possible, of course.”

His expression shifted from surprise to pure delight, a genuine smile breaking through his typical shyness. “Sick? In a good way?”

“Exactly! I’m just saying that being with you feels like a wild adventure, and I’m all in for that!” You leaned back, your heart feeling light as a feather.

“Then let’s be adventurers together,” he said, his voice low but filled with resolve. “My love, I would burn down the world if it meant I could be in your arms. And I would spend the rest of my life with you rising above the ashes…”

The sincerity in his voice sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories and dreams, laughing and teasing each other. The connection between you felt electric, alive with possibilities. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he resumed the game.

“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of me?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his tone.

“Not in a million years,” you replied, your voice soft yet firm. “You’re stuck with me, Idia. I like your quirks. I love the way you can get so passionate about things that light you up.”

He turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I’m really glad you think that. I never thought I’d find someone who understands me like you do.”

The vulnerability between you deepened, wrapping you both in a cocoon of intimacy that felt like home. You stayed up late into the night, sharing hopes and dreams, the world outside fading away as you lost yourselves in each other’s laughter and warmth.

As the evening came to a close, you stood at the door, feeling a mix of reluctance and anticipation. Idia followed you, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he shuffled beside you.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, glancing up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of another day spent together.

“Of course!” he replied, a wide grin breaking across his face. “I’ll have something special planned for you.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” you teased, leaning closer as you reached for the doorknob.

Idia’s expression turned serious again, and he stepped forward, grabbing your hand before you could open the door. “Y/N, I mean it. You make me want to be better. You inspire me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “You’re already amazing, Idia. Just be yourself. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

With a final smile exchanged, you stepped out into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you like a promise. As you walked away, the distant sounds of laughter and the crackling of bonfires filled the air, reminding you that the Halloween festivities were just beginning.

You glanced back at the Ignihyde dormitory, the warmth of Idia's confession lingering in your heart like the glow of the pumpkins outside. Halloween had become a night of magic for you, one filled with the spark of new beginnings and the promise of love growing amidst the flickering lights.

[concretejunglefm]

Poltergeists: an alternate universe.

Tell me all the time not to worry, and think of all the time I'll have with you.

Summary: It's been a year since your best friend Noah went missing, two years since you moved into the house you abandoned after he went missing from it during the night. This is a recount of events leading up to and what happened after the night he went missing and all of the strange events that occurred during your time living in that house.

series masterlist

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader.

CW: Missing persons, elements of supernatural horror, brief mention of stressful pregnancy/childbirth, panic attacks, claustrophobia, and overall layer of melancholy, but extra fluff sprinkled in.

WC: 4.7k.

AN: Just because they’re doomed by the narrative in every other lifetime doesn’t mean Noah and Bubs can’t have at least one where they get their happy ending—with conditions and consequences. The one where they build a beautiful life together, including a family of their own <3

FLASHBACK

Noah doesn’t particularly like to celebrate birthdays. He’s never been shy about the fact that once you pass a certain age, it feels silly to—or maybe that’s just how he feels about his own. He’s always hated celebrating them. Born on Halloween beneath a potential full moon? Maybe the universe had it out for him from the start. 

At least until you came along.

The first birthday you spent together as friends, Noah surprised you with a cupcake in the corner of the school library where you’d tucked yourself away.

“I made it myself,” he whispered, gesturing to the small cake, and your heart melted at the effort he’d gone to. The icing was uneven, the cupcake a little lopsided, but it was the thought that counted. He slipped in a single candle and reached for his lighter—you almost gasped aloud.

“Shhh. It’ll be quick, no one will notice,” he reassured you.

You glanced around, checking if that might be true, and it was. You were tucked away enough between the shelves that not a single soul was nearby—just the two of you.

“It’s time for you to make a wish,” Noah whispered, holding the cupcake out to you. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips together and blew. When you opened them again, you could tell he wanted to ask what you wished for, but part of you thinks maybe you already had it, sitting there with him in the corner of the library.

After that, it became a tradition. Noah would sit with you—not in the morning anymore, but the evening before. You’d sit together, counting down the minutes until midnight, until you officially turned another year older. Then, in the soft quiet of the hour, he’d light a single candle atop the cupcake he baked out of tradition. You always shared half with him, and somehow the recipe seemed to get better with each passing year.

Despite Noah’s reluctance to celebrate birthdays, he’ll always quietly celebrate yours, and the fact that you made it another year, because in every lifetime you’ve known one another, you’ve never made it past your twenty-third birthday.

Today, you’re twenty-four.

PRESENT DAY

Stepping into the room, everything is dark except for the candles flickering on the coffee table in the centre. Their flames barely illuminate Noah, casting soft shadows across his face in the darkness.

“What are we doing?” you ask, taking a seat on the floor beside the table, legs crossed as you glance over at him. “A séance?” you whisper the last word like you might disturb some imaginary spirit, a grin breaking across your face.

Noah raises his hands in response, wiggling his fingers in an eerie manner before letting out a soft laugh. “No, the power went out and I couldn’t find the torches, so I thought we could do dinner in the dark—so to speak.” He gestures toward the candles and reaches into the brown bag beside him, pulling out multiple takeout trays and setting them down in front of you.

“Wait, is this—?” You peek inside, spotting the familiar sushi logo you remember from your youth, the one you two always went to for special occasions. “But I thought they closed down?”

You furrow your brow, and Noah mirrors the expression, shaking his head. “No?”

“Yeah, they did,” you say slowly, starting to recall when, but then your eyes drift toward his hair, and without thinking, you reach across the coffee table, fingers brushing the ends. “Did your hair get longer?” You wrap your fingers around the familiar strands—yes, definitely longer—before your eyes adjust further in the dim light and you make out the shape of the wolfcut you’ve missed.

“A little,” he says.

He lifts his hand to yours, fingers curling around your wrist as he brings it closer, brushing a soft kiss against your fingertips. There’s a brief flutter in your chest, the corners of your mouth tugging into a quiet smile as you just sit there, taking in the moment—until something shifts.

The edges around him begin to fade.

“Noah?” you call out, voice suddenly tentative.

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps smiling at you, even as his touch begins to slip away.

And then, he’s gone.

Opening your eyes, you let out a soft gasp, only to feel the tight, comforting embrace of something larger behind you. Slowly, the pieces begin to fall into place; the nuzzling against your back, the soft mumbling—it’s Noah.

“Another bad dream?”

You don’t know. Not really. Not when it was him in the dream, but he looked different. Everything felt different, and it felt like he was fading away from you.

“No,” you murmur, shifting as you roll onto your other side to face him. He leans back slightly, welcoming you into his embrace, holding you against him.

“Just…” you pause, your eyes focusing on his face, tracing his soft features. The way his tired brow furrows, how he squints, avoiding opening his eyes fully in the morning light.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, grounding yourself in the solid feel of him against you.

It’s not the first time you’ve woken from a dream—or nightmare—about him. They’ve been a common occurrence since you were young, but this one felt different. It felt familiar, as though it had happened before.

It reminded you of the early days after moving into your house, except you know it didn’t happen. The sushi place in your dream had closed down before you ever moved in, and Noah’s hair—longer, styled the way it used to be—it all felt like him, or like a version of him.

You’ve grown familiar with many versions of him in your dreams. The two of you seem to live a hundred different lives together. Usually, though, it feels like watching flashbacks on a film reel—moments flashing before your eyes with no way to intervene. You’re never a part of them. Not really. Never the one he’s speaking to. Never the one he looks at with those soft, puppy dog eyes—the ones that hold such unmistakable heart-eyes just for you.

You’re pulled back from your thoughts by the sensation of Noah shifting against you, a thigh sliding between yours as his leg hooks around to pull you even closer.

“How long do you think we have?” he whispers, his head tucked down, lips brushing against yours before trailing slowly along your jawline in tentative kisses.

“Mmm, you mean before the rugrats launch their morning attack?”

Noah chuckles—a low, quiet rumble in his throat—as he dips his head to press his mouth against your neck. You smile, humming softly as you melt into him. You can already hear the footsteps, the youngest making his presence known, no doubt ready to leap onto the bed and tackle you both.

“Probably less than ten seconds,” you add, just as you feel a playful nip against your skin, making you hiss softly.

“I can work with that. You always said I was the best ten seconds of your life,” he teases, rolling you both over quickly and pressing you down into the mattress.

Your hands glide over the expanse of his back, feeling his muscles shift beneath your touch as you squeeze gently.

“Mm, did I say ten? I meant eight,” you tease with a quiet laugh, cut off by a sharp gasp as he nips at you again. “Hey!” You swat lightly at his back, and he just buries his head against your chest, laughing under his breath.

And then—right on cue—the door swings open and your youngest comes charging through like a flying monkey, launching toward the bed with zero hesitation.

Noah’s already off you, tucked beneath the covers, doing his best to stay quiet while Eren starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Well, good morning to you,” you smile as he flings himself into your arms with a cheerful, “Hi, Mom!”

You embrace him tightly as his little arms wrap around your neck. Four years old, and somehow he clings to you more with each passing day—something you cherish, especially after the struggles you had during your pregnancy and his first year. He’s a sensitive boy, Noah would argue he takes after you, but there’s always been a deep tether between you two. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows the things you know, just without the words to explain or understand them yet.

“Where’s Daddy?” you gasp, glancing at the suspiciously still lump beneath the covers where Noah is hiding.

Eren giggles, poking and prodding at it, until Noah finally throws the covers back and springs out with a dramatic growl, mimicking a bear disturbed from hibernation.

“You woke me!” he tries to sound offended, but it only makes Eren laugh harder, too full of joy and energy for this early in the morning.

When Eren finally pries himself away from you, he climbs onto Noah’s back as Noah gets up on all fours.

“Shall we go find your sister?”

“Yeah!” Eren points toward the bedroom door enthusiastically.

Noah shifts to sit up, reaching behind to steady Eren’s legs as he scoots off the bed. Unlike Noah, Eren doesn’t have the same long limbs or towering height—that all seemed to go to your daughter.

“Okay, hold on tight.”

Eren does exactly that, gripping wherever he can as Noah carries him out of the room. Just before they disappear down the hall, you hear Eren’s distinct little voice echoing, calling out, “Saaaaaasha!” in his own drawn-out way.

The sound of laughter—Eren’s, easily recognizable as it pierces through the air—fills the space, mixing with the splashes of water as he plays in the shallow end of the lake with his uncles, Folio and Jolly. Your head rests in Noah’s lap, and when he shifts slightly, you raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sun beaming down on you.

It’s one of the hotter early days in June, and instead of staying inside, you’ve all chosen to come out to the lake, the same one you frequented as teenagers. The one where, with Noah and your shared friends cheering you on, you found the courage to jump off the rope swing. The one where he took you on your first date. The one where he later proposed in that very same spot.

It became yours in every way imaginable.

And then it became Sasha’s, too, when her impatience triggered your water breaking during a lakeside walk—still two weeks before your due date.

“Here, Mom!” she calls out, and you peek out from behind your hand. She’s sitting cross-legged, covered in grass and surrounded by daisies she’s picked from the field. “I made you a crown.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you say softly, sitting up. Noah’s arm, which had been loosely draped over you, slips slightly but still stays around your front—his constant tether, always needing to feel you close in some form.

Sasha pushes to her feet and steps toward you, lifting the flower crown as you bow your head, and she places it carefully on top.

“What about my crown?” you hear Noah chime in from behind you.

“You’re not a princess,” Sasha replies without missing a beat. At barely six years old, she’s already as snarky and quick-witted as her father.

From the other side of her, Nicholas lets out a laugh, tossing a few daisy petals onto the grass. “Yeah! You heard her—you’re not a princess,” he teases.

You wrap your arms around your daughter, drawing her into a hug. “Thank you. I love it.” She turns her cheek toward you, the universal sign that she wants a kiss. You oblige—then hold her in place to smother her in kisses, the same way you often do with Noah and Eren, until she starts squealing and giggling for you to stop.

“Uh, Folio—no!”

Your attention snaps toward the lake at the sound of Matt’s voice, loud and authoritative, and both you and Noah glance over to see Folio helping your rascal of a son onto the log swing.

“What? I wasn’t actually gonna let him go,” Folio tries to justify, and Jolly quickly joins in, defending him. Before either of them can say more, they both help Eren down and start ushering him in your direction.

“Sorry Uncle Matt had to spoil the fun, buddy,” Folio calls after him.

Eren doesn’t seem to care, charging full-force toward you and Noah. You manage to dodge out of the way just in time as he body-slams into Noah, practically winding the poor guy.

“Why can’t I go on the swing?” he asks, his voice soft and sad, as if he’s the one who did something wrong.

“You’re not big enough yet, buddy,” you reply gently.

“Sasha has,” he says with a pout.

That immediately turns your attention to your eldest, and all she does is mumble a sheepish, “Snitch,” under her breath.

You narrow your eyes at Folio, who’s now rejoined the rest of you alongside Jolly, while everyone else bursts into laughter. You want to be mad at Folio for whatever new phrases he’s been teaching your daughter when you’re not around, but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to be. Not at the guys, and definitely not at your kids.

On the way back from the lake, you make a pit stop at the local diner on the edge of town. The group of you stumbles in, Sasha quickly picking a seat by the window and tucking herself in beside her Uncle Nicholas and Folio, while Jolly takes the other side. Noah slides into the booth next, and you take the spot at the end, with Matt sitting in a chair pulled up at the head of the table.

On the table, you catch sight of the front page of the local newspaper—an article about two missing 23-year-olds, a girl and a boy. There’s no update, just a mention that the trail has gone cold. Another pair of faces fading into the abyss. The sight of it makes your blood run cold, that familiar twinge of guilt stirring in your stomach, the one you always feel with news of another disappearance. You don’t even notice how the chatter among the guys dies down until you finally look up.

Despite the day’s activities, your four-year-old still has endless energy. As he wriggles off your lap, he’s quick to make a break for it. “Eren! Come back here!” You roll your eyes, scooting out of the booth to chase after him as he starts darting around the diner.

The moment you’re out of sight, Nicholas is the first to break the silence. He looks up from the newspaper and asks quietly, “How’s Bubs doing?”

“She’s okay,” Noah answers with a shrug, his eyes flicking to Sasha—subtly suggesting they be mindful of little ears. She’s like a sponge at this age, soaking up everything around her and occasionally regurgitating it to anyone who’ll listen.

“Eren!” you call after him, letting out an exasperated sigh as he just slips from your grasp.

“Oh? Where are you off to, bud?”

The stranger your son has decided to charge into—like a wild animal—reaches down instinctively, steadying him before he can stumble on wobbly legs. As you catch up and reach out to grab Eren, your gaze lifts to the man, and your thank you comes out slower, more fragmented, the moment you recognize the local detective.

“Thank… you.”

“No worries. They’re a handful at that age, aren’t th—” He stops mid-sentence when his eyes meet yours. You catch it—that flicker, like he’s trying to place you, and it makes your stomach twist.

It’s the same look you’ve been given since your twenty-fourth birthday—each time another twenty-three-year-old goes missing, because you’re always mistaken for them. The resemblance is uncanny, and the same goes for Noah, every time a young man disappears the year after—almost always someone tied to the first victim.

“Do I—” the detective begins.

You quickly reach for Eren, your fingers unintentionally digging into his small shoulder. “Come on, bud. Let’s go back to Daddy.” You try to keep your voice even, calm, turning on your heel before the detective can finish his thought, but then you hear him say it—just one word.

“Bubs.”

The name only a handful of people call you. The people closest to you. Mostly Noah. Sometimes the guys, but never a random detective.

You close your eyes, freezing for a moment, and hear a soft whine from Eren complaining that you’re hurting him—your grip unintentionally tightening further. Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, it feels like the world is about to be ripped out from beneath you. Like the universe is playing one final, cruel trick, giving you a taste of a life beyond that fated point in time, and every life taken in your place has been a lie. That none of this is real, and you’re about to fall back into that night. The night you sat at the kitchen table with Noah, just on the cusp of turning twenty-four, a cupcake in front of you, and beside it, a positive pregnancy test.

You had no idea then how far along you were—your periods had always been irregular, but a doctor’s visit the next day confirmed it: you were over sixteen weeks along, and carrying a healthy baby girl.

You both cried that day. Not just because you had survived another year, but because you were beginning a life together, because maybe—just maybe—this was the one lifetime where you wouldn’t be taken from one another.

“Bubs?” you hear again, but this time, it’s Noah’s voice.

When you open your eyes, you see the concern written all over his face. He gently pries your hand from your son, Eren rubbing his shoulder with a pout that mirrors his father’s so perfectly it stings.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head. Noah sends Eren back toward the booth and reaches for you, his hands resting on your arms as he leans down.

“Everything okay?” His thumbs squeeze lightly over your biceps, grounding you as he searches your face.

You glance over your shoulder to find the detective is gone, and with him, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach begins to fade.

You look back at Noah, briefly considering telling him. Telling him about the moment that just overtook you. How it felt like the truth was unraveling. You never keep things from him—especially not when it comes to your intuition. Not when you both know the life you share is built on the backs and sacrifices of others, but this time, you say nothing, you just nod. You push a smile, because you know what he’ll say—what he always says: That you don’t need to worry, because neither of you will ever wake up alone again.

“Come on, it’s bedtime.” Noah nudges your youngest off his lap, and you watch as he raises and drops his legs against the couch in defiance, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like a whiny “but Dad…”

Takes after his father in more ways than one with that stroppy attitude, you can’t help but think, and it amuses you.

Sasha is quietly tucked against your side. She hasn’t said a word since either of you got home. While Eren continues his protest about going to bed, she leans in closer, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she whispers in your ear like she’s sharing a secret.

“He’s scared of the closet. He said there’s a monster in there.”

You feel your insides go cold.

You’re the adult here, you should be the one reminding your kids that monsters don’t exist, but instead, your first instinct is to tell her he’s right. That there is something, because all you’ve ever known are monsters—ones that find their way out of closets, or worse, lure you into them.

That’s how it always happens in your dreams. How it’s played out in every lifetime. Something pulls you in, and you’re never seen again. You’re gone. You cease to exist, and the idea that it could happen to your baby—

It triggers something inside you, but it’s not the protective momma bear instinct. It’s something more selfish. The pure, primal panic of fight or flight, screaming at you to grab him and run.

“Are you coming up?” Noah asks. Eren is now half-asleep, draped over his shoulder. Sasha reaches up for him too, wanting to be carried on the other.

Noah, having grown outward over the years with muscle, still has the strength and height to carry them both—even though they’re well past the age where they should be asking, but neither of you have the heart to stop it. You both want to savour every second.

“Yeah, just a second,” you say.

“You can hop on my back too if you like,” he teases, grinning as the kids cling to him—Sasha’s longer limbs making her hang from him like an overgrown cub clinging to its parent.

The offer makes you laugh quietly, and just like that, the ice in your chest begins to thaw. The dread that had been slowly building starts to ebb, replaced with the reminder that this is your life now. You’re safe, you’re here, and everything is real.

You’ve seen those dumb TikToks and Reddit threads about the “lamp theory,” but thankfully, the only lamp you have to worry about is the ugly one in the corner—the one your neighbors gifted you, and that you still haven’t worked up the nerve to throw out.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, Noah is already stepping out of Eren’s room. You lean against the hallway wall as he walks toward you. “Did he settle okay?” you ask.

Between the two of them, you worry about Eren the most. He acts brave, but you see through it. For all the ways he mimics his father in looks, his eyes are yours—a window into a soul that mirrors your own. You know he’s just as sensitive, that he feels things deeply, the way you do. Including his fears.

“Yeah,” Noah murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “He was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.”

Then, without warning, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in surprise, slapping a hand against his back as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom. He only sets you down once you’re inside, pressing a kiss to your lips, eager and playful, before helping you out of your clothes.

He guides you into the en-suite bathroom, the one you had installed after realising one bathroom for four people was quickly becoming a nightmare.

The warmth of the water, along with Noah’s soft, grounding touch, is enough to ease your mind. Every tender kiss, every gentle brush of his fingers across your skin, helps wash away the remnants of the day, until there’s nothing left but comfort.

Later, you both fall into bed, exhausted but content. You naturally fold into each other, bodies intertwining with the same ease and intimacy you’ve always shared, ready to let sleep take you.

It’s barely past midnight when you’re startled awake by the feeling of someone crawling up the bed. Blinking into the dark, your eyes adjust just enough to make out Eren’s small figure.

“Baby, what is it?” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep.

He lets out a soft whine and climbs into bed, not to Noah, but to you, tucking himself tightly against your body as he mumbles about the closet, about the monster. The same thing Sasha had whispered to you earlier.

“There’s no monster in there, bud,” Noah tries to reassure him, his voice low and groggy. “I checked before I went to sleep.”

But Eren just buries himself deeper into you. “There is, Mom,” he insists, so small and sure in his fear.

You want so badly to tell him you know, that you believe him, but instead, you just hold him tighter, wrapping your arm around his little body and cradling the back of his head, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “You can stay here.”

Noah shifts and turns on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting against the light. “Come on, bud. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Your eyes widen as you glance over at him, instinctively pulling Eren closer. “If he says he’s scared, he can stay here with us,” you say, firm but calm.

“No, he should be brave,” Noah replies gently. “And we can show him there’s no such thing as monsters.”

You know what he’s trying to do—not dismiss your fears, not undermine you—but to reassure both you and Eren. To remind you that this life, this safety, is real. That there’s nothing lurking in the dark.

Even if part of you still isn’t convinced.

You’re reluctant to follow, and Eren is too, tucking himself behind you the moment Noah enters his bedroom. For a brief second, in the moonlight, you could swear the room looks different. It mirrors how your room used to look before you and Noah moved into his one together and began changing it for your children, but as quickly as the thought strikes, it vanishes the moment Noah flicks on the light. The room looks exactly the way you remember it.

“See?” Noah says gently as he walks toward the closet.

Suddenly, a wave of crippling fear crashes over you. “Noah, please… don’t. We can check in the morning, yeah?” You try to keep your voice steady, but the tremor betrays you. Eren clings to you, and you hold him tighter in return.

Noah brushes off your concern with a calmness that only unsettles you more. He turns the handle.

Your heart pounds. Your chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Eren’s little hand squeezes yours, like he’s trying to anchor you, to keep you from falling into the panic that’s threatening to swallow you whole.

Then Noah opens the door and steps inside.

It feels like your heart drops to your stomach.

“See? No monsters,” he says from within, his voice echoing slightly in the small space. The only things visible are a shelf filled with Eren’s toys and a rack of tiny clothes.

There’s nothing there, but that doesn’t stop the way your chest heaves or your heart hammers against your ribs. You close your eyes, trying to ground yourself, forcing a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. 

You’re safe. He’s safe. It’s just a closet.

For a brief moment, you’re taken back to the memory of when you first met Noah, in a closet at a house party you hadn’t even wanted to attend. A group of kids from your grade thought it would be funny to lock you inside. Noah had been your saviour that day, not just for getting you out, but for helping you face your fear—or so you thought. He had stepped inside the closet with you, choosing to face it with you. He felt it then too, the unmistakable connection pulling you together, and you hadn’t parted ways since.

When you open your eyes, you feel your cheeks wet with tears, and Eren’s sleepy, soft voice follows. “Mom? Are you crying?”

You raise a hand and wipe at your face, only now realizing the tears were even there. When your eyes land on Noah—thank God, now out of the closet and the door closed—he’s wearing a familiar expression. His gaze softens, laced with guilt, the kind that says he’s already awarding himself Worst Husband of the Year, but you know that’s not true. He never intended to upset you.

You shake your head, brushing off the emotion, and lean down to press a kiss to the top of Eren’s head. “Go back to sleep, baby. We’ll leave your nightlight on.”

Eren scrambles back into bed like you asked, and it’s Noah who tucks him in. Then he crosses the room to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and dipping his head to your neck, mumbling a soft apology.

You forgive him—long before he even needs to ask, and definitely long before you both end up back in your own bed, limbs tangled together. He wraps around you protectively, pressing soft kisses wherever he can reach until sleep takes you both.

And when it does, you find him again—the Noah from your dream. The one who looked the way he did when you first moved in together at twenty-three, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you.

[spotsandsocks]

Adorable 🩵

I’ll ask for 🎅🏽 with the word…cookie

:)

Hello and thanks for visiting my Christmas stocking themed in box. Cookie you say? Well this is what we have. Soft fluffy and a first kiss. Hope you enjoy it. 🍪🍪🍪🍪 800 words ish

It’s just them awake right now, standing alone in the firestation kitchen, a familiar safe comfortable space for them both. Eddie came up here to make himself a cup of camomile tea, Buck followed to watch him make it. Neither of them are surprised by the choices being made.

It’s late, the rest of the team are asleep or trying to be. The dim lighting casts shadows and makes Buck’s hair darker, fades out the blue of his eyes. Eddie doesn’t look too long as he pases over the mug of tea he made for Buck.

The wrinkled up nose and look of mild disgust settling on Buck’s face as he takes the drink and sniffs it generates a snicker of amusement that Eddie tries to keep quiet.

“Don’t like camomile tea.”

The tone is only mildly sulky.

“I know but you don’t hate it and it’ll help you sleep. So drink.”

Buck does as he’s told, his lips forming a distracting little ‘o’ as he blows to cool the steaming liquid and Eddie thinks it’s best to look away. A distracting sip from his own mug reveals it’s also a little hot. He blows too, happy enough to wait for it to be ready.

The silence is nice, it wraps around them, shelters them from everything else. Right here, right now it’s just them, sharing a moment.

The cup opposite him moves higher as Buck raises it and sips. When his mouth is visible again the corners are turned down and Eddie could laugh at the dramatics on display but he doesn’t because it’s just Buck being Buck and Eddie likes him just as he is.

The complaint is as he expected; over dramatic.

“Tastes like dish water.”

He snorts into his own teacup.

“Drink a lot of dish water do you?”

Despite the words its hard to keep the emotion out of his voice. The affection, the love. The way he’d do anything for this man.

“You know it tastes crap.”

Buck’s eyes find his with a pointed expression Eddie ignores and indulges at the same time.

“Would a cookie make it better.”

The sudden brightness on Buck’s face does activate the eye roll he’s been holding back.

“We have cookies? Thought they all got eaten.”

Eddie corrects him.

“I have a cookie but you can have it because I saved it for you.”

Turning to face his cookie hiding spot is far safer than looking at Buck. He says the rest of the words into the cupboard as he rummages.

“You were late and you know how they all are with food but I’m not getting between Chimney and a homemade cookie, so all I could do was grab you one.”

He has to turn around then, carefully wrapped cookie held out, an offering that possibly reveals more than he meant it to.

“You saved me a cookie.”

It’s not a question because it’s obvious that’s exactly what happened.

Buck blinks comically confused by the gesture. Eddie tries to explain.

“They were your favourite.”

He shrugs, eyes sliding away from the expression on Buck’s face hoping equally hard that his best friend understands and that he doesn’t.

“Didn’t want you to miss out.”

Buck hasn’t moved an inch but a jiggle of the extended cookie and a threat changes that.

“If you don’t want it, I'll eat it.”

That spurs Buck into action, he reaches out to claim what’s his.

“I want it”

Buck places his hand over his, taking the cookie but leaving a tingling trace of his fingertips behind. The sensation and the sudden tension in the air runs a shiver down Eddie’s spine.

“I want it.”

His stupid heart skips, beating a little faster at the tone Buck uses. The cookie is gently placed on the countertop and Eddie realises he hasn’t dropped his hand yet and then he realises Buck’s hand is back on his and he’s being pulled closer.

“You saved me a cookie.”

The words are ordinary enough, the way he says them isn’t.

Eddie nods. “Yeah”

The next moment is inevitable, they’ve been falling towards it in slow motion for years, maybe from the very first day they met.

“I should say thank you.”

He can feel each word on his skin because Buck is so close to him now.

“Ok.”

It’s a silly word to launch them into tomorrow but it’s enough for Buck to smile and close the gap between them, press their lips together and kiss him.

Eddie makes a tiny desperate noise as Buck's lips taste and tease his. He can feel the smile on Buck’s face widen when Eddie pulls him closer, reaches for more, slides into his mouth and kisses back, slow and soft, savouring every moment.

It’s just them right now, standing in the firestation kitchen, a familiar safe space for them both. The perfect place for this moment. Eddie came up here to make himself a cup of tea, Buck followed because that’s how they are.

Slow kisses end and Buck licks his lips.

“Hey you have honey in your tea”

The complaint makes him laugh.

“You don’t even like sweet drinks”

Buck pouts. “Ok that’s true but not the point.”

He’s right of course, camomile tea is not the point, the point is the cookie and what it meant for them both, maybe Buck might be inclined to share it later, maybe not but right now he’s more than happy to share kisses and that is enough for Eddie.