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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 2 days ago
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Good Omens Fic Rec: How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to)
Crowley hosts a late night comedy talk show. Aziraphale hosts a feel good morning talk show. When Crowley is asked to present Aziraphale with a lifetime achievement award, everything goes a bit skew-whiff.
Length: 31,481 Words AO3 Rating: Teen and Up Best for/Keywords: Safe in Public, Human AU, Comedy, Actor AU Major Triggers: None
Read it here, fic by GaryOldman
*Minor Spoilers* You are going to have an absolute blast with this story! Here, Crowley and Aziraphale are both television hosts who have just gotten themselves into a bit of a viral moment. Looks like our "sex god" late night host Crowley might not be as unflappable as he portrays himself, and our prim and proper Aziraphale might be hiding a few tricks up his sleeve!
The voice in this story is phenomenal! It is told through first person pov from Crowley, and his narration had me howling. I was constantly grinning and the jokes always landed! The characterization is so fun, and the setting just works. Truly one of the most fun fanfics I've ever read. This story is completely safe in public and it makes for an excellent read while out and about!
Read it here, fic by GaryOldman
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niteskysx · 3 days ago
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strawberry.
bjorn x reader (i tried smth different by putting Reader in the fic instead of yxn so let me know if it looks okay or if it works for you guys 😭)
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Summary: One night, she shows up in his room—with intentions he never thought she’d bring to him, acting like the complete opposite of her usual shy, rule-following, goody two-shoes self. He thinks she’s finally dropped the good girl act. Has she?
(if this is a bit long, i apologize. i tried to post it on ao3 but i havent been accepted there yet lol)
Bjorn sat on his bunk, thumbs tapping idly at the controller in his hands, the dim light from the screen casting a glow over his face. His brows furrowed in concentration as he muttered under his breath, completely absorbed in the game.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
“Unless you’re Tyler with a bottle of booze or an alien here to kill me, get lost,” he grumbled without looking up.
No response. Just soft footsteps.
Bjorn’s fingers paused over the buttons, and he finally looked up, frowning when he saw her standing there.
She was the last person he expected to show up at his bunk. Little-miss-stick-to-the-rules, the one who always looked at him like he was one sarcastic comment away from getting shoved out of an airlock. Her usual stiff posture was gone; instead, she leaned against the wall, lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. The hell? She never smiled like that — not at him.
She didn’t look like herself. Her hair was a little more tousled, her eyes shadowed like she hadn’t slept.
She sat down next to him, close enough that her knee bumped against his. Bjorn blinked.
“Uh… hi?”
Her lips twitched. “Hi.”
Bjorn scowled, setting his controller aside. “Okay, what the hell? Did you get lost on your way to literally anywhere else?”
She tilted her head, gaze flickering to his mouth before meeting his eyes again. “No. I wanted to see you.”
Bjorn’s body stiffened. His brain scrambled for a logical explanation—maybe she hit her head during that last escape, or maybe Tyler had spiked the water rations for fun.
“What do you want?” he muttered, voice low and rough.
“Nothing,” she said simply, her smile deepening. “Just your company.”
Bjorn shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Go find company with the others,” he muttered. “You know, the people you actually talk to.”
“But I don’t want them,” she murmured, leaning in slightly. Their knees were completely touching now.
Bjorn narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“You sure? Because you’re acting weird. Like… you got body-snatched weird.” He forced a smirk. “Should I check for antennae?”
She laughed softly—a different kind of laugh. Low. Smooth. Something about it made his stomach tighten.
“Come on, Bjorn,” she murmured.
His body tensed. “Come on, what?”
She leaned forward just a bit, her breath warm against his ear. “You always push me away,” she whispered. “Why?”
His pulse jumped. He pulled back, eyes searching hers. “Okay, yeah, you’ve either been hitting the ship’s hidden stash or you hit your head.”
She tilted her head, her fingers skimming his arm. “What if I just want to get to know you better?”
Bjorn caught her wrist, gripping it firmly. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” His voice was sharp, but his grip wasn’t.
She only smiled, like she knew something he didn’t. “I don’t know.” Her voice dropped, almost teasing. “Why? Do I seem… different?”
“Yeah.” He let go of her hand, shoving himself upright. “You don’t act like this.”
“Like what?” she asked, stepping even closer. Now she was standing between his legs, looking down at him. He swallowed.
“Flirty,” he said bluntly.
She giggled. Actually giggled. Bjorn swore under his breath. “You hate me, remember?” he muttered. “Think I’m an arrogant prick.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.” Her fingers dragged down his arm, nails scratching lightly over his sleeve.
Bjorn shivered. He should push her away. Instead, he just stared at her. “You’re not like this,” he said again, voice strained. “You’re shy. Quiet.”
“Maybe I’m tired of being shy,” she murmured.
He sucked in a breath as she shifted even closer. He tried to lean back, but his shoulders hit the headboard.
“Maybe I like your attention…” Her breath brushed against his neck, warm and teasing. “And wondering what it would feel like to touch you.”
Bjorn’s brain short-circuited. What the hell was happening?
She was practically in his lap now, her weight pressing against his thighs, her fingers ghosting up the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him to stop this, to shove her away and demand what the hell had gotten into her.
Instead, his mouth did what it always did when things got weird: it ran with it.
“Well, you know what they say,” Bjorn drawled, letting his gaze flicker to her lips. “Opposites attract.”
She smiled. “You think we’re opposites?”
“Yeah. I’m fun. You’re…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Not.”
She giggled again, a sultry little sound that sent heat curling through his stomach. “Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Bjorn exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way her knee pressed into his thigh. “Please. I know you. You’re the one who gives me that disappointed teacher look every time I crack a joke.”
Her fingers toyed with his belt. His muscles twitched under her touch. “Maybe I just enjoy your attention.”
Oh, hell no. Something was definitely wrong. His pulse hammered in his ears.
“What’s with you?” he asked again, voice rough. He caught her wrist before her hand could slide under his shirt. “Seriously.”
Her pupils were blown wide now, black swallowing the color. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Her lips parted. “But don’t you like it?”
Bjorn gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, if you’re trying to seduce me, you might wanna work on the creepy factor.”
She tilted her head. “Is it working?”
Bjorn’s grip on her wrist tightened. “I mean… maybe a little.”
His smirk faltered when she swung one leg over his thighs and fully straddled him. Heat surged through his body. Her weight pressed against him, her nails dragging over the back of his neck—it messed with his head.
“Relax, Bjorn,” she whispered. “You think too much.”
“That’s funny,” he muttered. “Everyone says I don’t think at all.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging his head back slightly. His throat bobbed. Every instinct screamed to stop this, because something about the way she looked at him wasn’t normal.
But then she leaned down and kissed him.
Slow. Deep. Needy.
Bjorn groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he kissed her back. She tasted like metal and danger, like something he shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop craving.
His hands slid up her back, gripping her like he was afraid she’d pull away. The kiss turned messy, desperate. His mind screamed at him to get a grip, to push her away before he did something stupid.
But when her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer—he was gone.
So, so screwed.
(3  Hours Earlier)
The emergency lights bathed the control room in harsh, red flashes. Alarms blared through the ship’s speakers, a robotic voice repeating: “Containment breach. Sector 5.”
Navarro’s hands flew across the controls. “Shit, shit—come on!” she muttered, her eyes darting between the monitors. One showed Tyler and Bjorn, trapped in the quarantine chamber, weapons raised. The other displayed a writhing mass of translucent, sinewy creatures slithering toward them.
“Navarro, get us the hell out of here!” Tyler’s voice crackled through the comms, his usual bravado laced with panic.
“They’re closin’ in,” the reader said, gripping the back of Navarro’s chair. Her heart hammered in her chest. The creatures' movements were disjointed but fast, their limbs twisting unnaturally as they swarmed toward the two men. “Can’t we override the door?”
“I’m trying!” Navarro’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “They locked it remotely from the lab after the breach.” She paused, brow furrowed. “Wait. There’s a manual override in the maintenance shaft.”
The reader swallowed hard. “I’ll go.”
“You sure? It’s crawling with those things out there.”
The screen showed Bjorn, standing back-to-back with Tyler, swiping his forearm across his sweaty face. His voice crackled over the comms, his accent sharp: “Oi, can we speed this up? Not tryna be anyone’s midnight snack here!”
The reader didn’t answer. She was already sprinting toward the maintenance hatch.
The shaft was barely wide enough to crawl through. The metal walls groaned with each movement. Sweat dripped down her temple as she pushed forward, flashlight clamped between her teeth.
The override panel came into view — a small box marked MANUAL RELEASE. Her hands shook as she flipped it open and punched in the code Navarro had given her.
“Come on… come on…”
From the shadows ahead, something scraped against the metal. The hair on her neck stood on end. Her eyes darted toward the sound. The flashlight caught a flash of pale, rubbery skin skittering across the metal.
She slammed the release lever down.
The alarm shifted to a new tone: “Chamber door disengaged.”
Back in the control room, she stumbled through the door as Tyler and Bjorn burst in behind her.
“Holy fuckin’ hell,” Tyler panted, bending over with his hands on his knees. “That was close.”
Bjorn leaned against the wall, sucking in breaths. His shirt was torn, streaked with dark fluid. “Yeah,” he wheezed. “Remind me to never volunteer for a ‘routine inspection’ again.”
“I bloody hate space,” he muttered.
Hours later, the adrenaline had worn off. The ship was quiet again.
The reader stood in the tiny bathroom, running damp fingers through her hair. Her reflection stared back, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. She turned her head to the side, inspecting a scrape on her cheek from the maintenance shaft.
That’s when she felt it: a faint tickle along the shell of her ear.
She frowned, reaching up. Her fingertips brushed against something cold and slick.
It moved.
She jerked her hand away, heart slamming in her chest. Another tickle — deeper now, just inside her ear canal. Her breath hitched. She grabbed the edge of the sink, eyes wide with horror.
Sudden pressure built behind her eardrum. Her vision blurred. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared.
Her pulse slowed.
Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was just leftover nerves from the mission.
She forced a shaky breath and turned off the faucet.
Behind her, in the mirror’s reflection, her pupils dilated unnaturally. Just for a second.
And then... black.
———————————————————————————
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her body arched into his touch as his fingers toyed with the button of her pants, fumbling to undo it. His mouth found the pulse at her throat, sucking softly, and a low hum escaped her lips.
Then—
A jarring flicker behind her eyes.
The sensation was sharp, like someone yanking a cord plugged into the base of her skull. Her vision blurred. For the briefest moment, everything went black.
When clarity returned, she was on Bjorn’s bed, half-straddling his lap, his hand already slipping beneath her waistband.
Her heart seized.
What the hell—how did I get here?
Her stomach lurched. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, like waking up in the middle of a nightmare. The pressure of his palm against her hip, the heat of his breath on her neck—she didn’t remember any of it or how she got into this position.
“Stop,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Get off—get off me.”
Bjorn didn’t react immediately. His mouth was still at her throat, teeth grazing her skin.
Her pulse skyrocketed. Panic took hold.
“Stop!” she said louder, raising her hand and slapping the side of his head.
“OW! What the—?” Bjorn recoiled, clutching his temple. His eyes flashed with confusion and anger. “What the hell?!” 
She shoved his chest so hard he nearly fell off the bed. His head snapped back, the sting of her slap still burning against his scalp.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, scrambling off his lap like he was on fire. Her eyes were wide with panic, cheeks flushed.
Bjorn blinked. His brain short-circuited. His hair was disheveled, her lipstick smudged across his jawline. “Me? What am I doing? You’re the one who climbed into my bed and started getting handsy!”
Her mouth dropped open. “I did not!”
“Oh yeah? You just happened to sit on my lap and try to eat my face for fun?” He pointed to his hair. “You yanked my hair like you were testing the damn roots!”
Her face twisted with confusion — then horror. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.” 
She stared at him, heart racing, mind spinning.
He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “First you come in here, climb on top of me, panting in my ear like a rabid fox—and now you’re bloody hitting me? Fucks the matter with you?”
Her eyes went wide. “I—I don’t remember doing that. I don’t know how I got here— I don’t- I was lying in my bunk and… then I… I woke up here. With.. you.”
Bjorn let out a low, bitter chuckle. “Right. Sure you don’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head as he stood. “God… you are such a fucking tease.”
She backed away, breath unsteady. The confusion etched into her face was unmistakable. Bjorn’s eyes narrowed; his head tilted as he watched her, curiosity flickering behind his frustration.
Her brows knitted. She took another shaky step back, nearly stumbling before catching herself. Without another word, she turned and fled the room.
Bjorn ran a hand through his hair, giving his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “Fucking girls, man,” he muttered, then collapsed back onto his bed with a frustrated groan. 
Reader slammed the door to her room and locked it, her chest heaving. Her heart still raced from whatever the hell had just happened in Bjorn’s room. She backed away from the door, rubbing her temples.
What the fuck was that? How did I even get there?
She paced to the mirror, her reflection just as disheveled and panicked as she felt. Her hair was tangled, her lips swollen from Bjorn’s kisses. But she didn’t remember walking there. Didn’t remember straddling him. Just… being at the sink. The pressure in her head. The sick squirming sensation beneath her skin.
Her hand flew to her ear. The spot just beneath the canal—where she’d felt it last night. A twitch, then a burrowing sensation. Her stomach churned.
No. No, this couldn’t be real.
She pressed harder, wincing at the soreness. Something had happened. Something had crawled in.
Her mind shot back to earlier: Tyler and Bjorn fighting off the small, slick creatures in the cargo bay. The skittering limbs, the way one darted toward the vent before Bjorn stomped after it.
Her pulse spiked.
One must've gotten out.
One must’ve gotten into her.
———————————————————————————
The med bay had found nothing. No parasites, no head injuries, no alien goo lodged in her brain. By the end of the day, she was convinced she’d had a psychotic break. A weird, horrifyingly embarrassing psychotic break that involved dry-humping Bjorn’s lap.
She hadn’t spoken to him since. Every time she passed him in the halls, she speed-walked in the opposite direction while he smirked like the cocky asshole he was. 
Now the crew was gathered in the common area, poring over whatever scraps of data Navarro had managed to recover from the ship’s security feeds. Everyone was tense. Tired. Half-expecting those acid-blooded monsters to rip through the walls at any second.
Navarro tapped a few keys on the console. “Alright,” he muttered. “Here’s footage from corridor C, two hours before the first attack.”
The screen flickered. Grainy black-and-white footage showed an empty hallway. The group leaned in. Nothing happened for a few seconds… until a small, worm-like shape wriggled across the floor and disappeared into the ventilation shaft.
“What the hell is that?” Tyler asked.
“No idea,” Navarro said. “Looks like it moves like a—wait.” His brow furrowed as he clicked to the next feed. “This is from the crew quarters last night. After we locked down the south wing.”
The screen changed.
Her stomach dropped.
There she was. In fuzzy night-vision, walking into Bjorn’s bunk with a slow, almost predatory stride. She watched herself climb onto his lap, run her fingers through his hair, and kiss him like she was auditioning for a damn romance holo.
Tyler choked on a laugh. “Holy shit.”
Her entire body locked up. Heat flooded her cheeks. “T-t-that… that wasn’t me!” she stammered, voice cracking.
Bjorn, sitting across from her, turned his head slowly and met her gaze. His mouth curved into a lazy, delighted grin. “Sure looks like you.”
“It’s not!” she shouted, practically vibrating with mortification. “I-I don’t remember any of that! I was possessed!”
“Oh yeah?” Bjorn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “By what? The Horny Ghost of Deck Three?”
The group burst into laughter.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I-I swear! I was sleeping! And then I woke up in his room and—”
“On my lap,” Bjorn added helpfully. “Don’t forget the lap part.”
Navarro frowned, tapping the screen. “Wait, hold on. Look at the timestamp.”
They all turned back to the footage. As her possessed self kissed Bjorn, a tiny shape slithered out from behind her ear — the same worm-like creature — and crawled from the bunk to the floor.
Seconds later, her body froze mid-kiss. Her eyes went glassy.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I wasn’t crazy.”
Navarro nodded grimly. “Looks like whatever that thing is… it was controlling you.”
Bjorn let out a low whistle. “So you were possessed.” His jaw tightened, amusement draining from his face. “Brilliant. I was snogging some alien parasite, not you.” His eyes darkened. “That’s fucking disgusting.”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest. “Why Bjorn, though?” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—jealousy, maybe. “I mean… you could’ve climbed into either one of our bunks.”
Bjorn, still lounging against the table, perked up. “Yeah. Why me?” He straightened, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on hers. “Gotta say, I’m curious.”
Even Navarro, typically all business, arched a brow and turned his attention toward her. The question hung heavy in the air.
She froze. The weight of their collective stares pinned her in place. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I… I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what that thing wants.”
The silence stretched, brittle and sharp.
Navarro finally broke it, voice grim. “To reproduce,” he said, nodding toward the footage. “That thing—whatever it is—wasn’t just controlling you. It was looking for a host.”
Her eyes widened. “A host… for more of those things?”
“Exactly.” Navarro’s jaw tightened. “And it didn’t pick Bjorn at random.”
Bjorn’s smirk faded. “Wait… what the hell does that mean?”
Navarro leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That thing was trying to reproduce. It chose you because you’re the most compatible host.”
Bjorn let out a dry laugh. “Compatible? What, like I’ve got a ‘prime breeding material’ stamp on my forehead?”
Tyler snorted, though his eyes never left the screen. “I mean… wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about you.”
Bjorn shot him a glare. “Piss off.”
She barely heard them. Her mind was spinning. “So… it climbed out of me and went into Bjorn?”
Navarro gave a slow nod. “Or at least tried to. We saw it crawl toward him on the footage before it disappeared under the bed.”
Her stomach turned. “And now it’s… what, still in here somewhere?”
The group fell silent.
Bjorn tensed. “Under the bed,” he repeated, glancing toward his bunk. His legs shifted, like he was preparing to bolt. “It’s still here.”
Tyler’s face paled. “Shit.”
Navarro stood. “We need to find it. Now.”
Bjorn took a step back, eyes scanning the floor. “Right. Great. A horny alien worm loose in my room. Just what I fucking needed.”
———————————————————————————
As Tyler and Navarro swept the flashlight beam across the floor, scanning for the creature, Bjorn shifted closer. His shoulder bumped lightly against hers.
“You know…” His voice dipped, low and teasing.
She stiffened. Bjorn leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Do you really not remember what happened between us?”
Her throat tightened. She turned her head slightly — and immediately regretted it. His blue eyes caught hers, sharp and glinting with amusement.
“I—I told you. I don’t remember,” she stammered.
He tilted his head, a slow smirk curving his lips. “Shame.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then flicked back up. “You were so… enthusiastic.”
“Bjorn,” Tyler called out. “This isn’t the time.”
Bjorn gives him a look of displeasure.
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire at this point.
_________________________________________________
The flashlight’s beam glinted off the metal bedframe, casting shadows like skeletal fingers across the wall. Tyler crouched, lowering the light to the floor. The shadows shifted — and then something moved.
Tyler’s voice interrupted the moment: “Shit—there it goes!”
A glistening, worm-like creature squirmed at the edge of the beam, pale and slick, like it had been birthed from static. It slithered toward the baseboard.
Navarro lunged first. His boot stomped down with a sickening squish. The creature convulsed beneath the heel, its form pulsing, writhing.
“What the hell is that thing?” she breathed.
“Parasitic entity,” Navarro grunted, grinding his heel into the floor. “Uses human hosts to reproduce.”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened. “Reproduce… like make us host its babies?”
Navarro didn’t answer. She just pressed down harder. The worm gave one final twitch before going still, a smear of iridescent fluid pooling beneath it.
Bjorn exhaled shakily. “Jesus Christ.”
Tyler leaned against the desk, skin pale. “So… is that it? We’re good now?”
Navarro crouched to examine the remains. The goo shimmered unnaturally in the light. “This one’s dead.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But if it came through when we opened the rift… there might be more.”
Reader’s stomach twisted. “More? Like how many more?”
Navarro wiped the goo onto a tissue. “That depends on how long it was in you.” She stood, meeting reader’s eyes. “And what it did while it was.”
Silence stretched between them. Her skin crawled with invisible touches.
Bjorn broke it with a shaky laugh. “Great. So I almost got laid by a possessed chick because some horny alien worm decided I was a suitable breeding ground.”
He raked a hand through his hair and gave a crooked grin. “Gotta say, not my proudest moment.”
———————————————————————————
The ship was too quiet.
She sat curled up on the worn couch in the living quarters, pretending to read the manual for the comms system while the vents hummed overhead. The rest of the crew was gone, off checking the engine room for more of those alien freaks. She should’ve been worried. Anxious. Hyper-alert.
Instead, her mind kept flashing back to that grainy CCTV footage Navarro had pulled up yesterday.
Her. In Bjorn’s lap. Hands in his hair. Mouth on his like she was trying to suck the soul out of him.
The secondhand embarrassment still made her want to self-destruct.
"Deep breaths," she muttered to herself. "It wasn’t you. You were possessed. Just…ignore him."
“Talking to yourself now?"
Her spine straightened with a jolt. Bjorn’s voice.
Of course.
She didn’t look up. "Go away."
"Why would I do that?" His footsteps creaked across the floor. “We’ve got the whole ship to ourselves. Thought we could…bond.”
"Pass."
He chuckled. The sound made her eye twitch.
Her focus stayed glued to the manual as he dropped onto the couch across from her, sprawling like he owned the place. Silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze like a physical weight, dragging up her legs, past her folded arms, straight to her face.
“You know,” Bjorn said after a minute, “I’ve been trying to figure something out.”
She exhaled sharply. “Are you now?” She answered completely uninterested.
He ignored her. "Your chapstick."
That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to his. "What?"
"That night," he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumb. "When you kissed me."
Her cheeks flamed. 
“Strawberry?” He squinted, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Nah… cherry, maybe? It was sweet. Kinda fruity.”
Her stomach twisted.
Bjorn chuckled. “C’mon. Tell me. It’s been driving me fucking crazy all day.”
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, standing abruptly to leave.
She turned toward the hallway — but he was faster. He stood and moved into her path with infuriating ease, blocking the exit.
Her heart skipped. She took a step back, and her shoulders hit the cold wall.
Bjorn placed a hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in just enough to make her breath hitch. His blue eyes sparkled with pure mischief.
"You know," he said softly, "it's my birthday today."
She crossed her arms, willing herself not to react. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks." His smirk deepened. "Aren’t you gonna ask what I want for my birthday?"
She clenched her jaw. "No."
"Go on." His gaze flicked to her lips. "Ask."
Her throat tightened. She hated how her pulse spiked when he looked at her like that. Like he saw straight through her bravado.
"...What do you want for your birthday?" she mumbled, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.
Bjorn's mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. "A kiss."
Her head snapped up. "You’re insane."
"Maybe." He pushed off the wall just enough to trail his fingers down her arm. Goosebumps erupted across her skin despite herself. "But you seemed pretty into it last time."
"It wasn’t me," she said through clenched teeth.
"That’s what you keep saying." He leaned in again, voice low. "But you know what I think?"
"No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me."
His breath brushed her cheek. "I think you liked it."
Her chest squeezed. "You’re disgusting."
"And you’re a terrible liar." His eyes dropped to her mouth. “C’mon. One little kiss. For my birthday.”
The worst part? He was close enough that she could smell the faint cologne-and-cigarette scent of him, feel the heat of his skin. And for one horrifying second, she thought about giving in.
Then her fight instinct kicked in.
She smacked the side of his head — hard — and shoved him away.
Bjorn stumbled back, surprised, then laughed. "Agh! What the fuck?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, chest heaving. "Go and get your head checked, you freak."
She turned and marched toward the door.
Behind her, he chuckled again. "Damn. That actually fucking hurt."
She rushed out, heart racing, steps quick and unsteady.
"Strawberry," Bjorn called after her. "I knew it."
taglist: @guardiandear @asvtrials @spikedfearn @kayharrisons @maladaptive-dreamer @em1i2a3 @theblueflower05 @mommyarachna @caileeflavoured @blackynsupremacy
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zeel-zzz · 2 days ago
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does anyone have any marauders fics they're working on?
i'm bored and i wanna read wips
(i will ready anything)
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freakrenaissance · 2 hours ago
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Already in love with these two 😏 sooo filthy & fantastic... gonna read every chapter 😆
Your Filthy Heart
Part One: ​Something Old, Something New
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Your Filthy Heart Masterlist
Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky x 18+!Female Reader
Summary: To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.
Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, MAJOR DADDY KINK/STEPDAD TROPE, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, facial (not the derma kind), slight cum play, a gentle touch of asphyxiation, and Bucky’s filthy (no, really) mouth.
18+.
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: My entry for @cockslut-padalecki’s 9k Follower Challenge. Congratulations! I chose the prompts ‘Chains’ by Tina Arena, and Wedding Reception. Hope you like it, Lisa! 💕 Special thanks to @ozarkthedog for the title! Love you!
You’d always wanted to get married. Ever since you were a little girl. Dreamt of the perfect man swooping in and carrying you off into the sunset.
You remembered the afternoons you’d run around the house draped in her old net curtains, a makeshift veil, daydreaming about the day you’d meet your Prince.
The hours you’d spent twirling on the porch, reciting the stereotypical wedding vows like a worn-out prayer.
You had it all mapped out.
At the tender age of 9 years old, you’d pictured him to be tall, dark, and impossibly handsome.
A man with a smile that could break a thousand hearts, eyes as deep and mysterious as the ocean, a gentleman that would sweep you off your feet and make your heart ache in the sweetest way.
You didn’t picture that the very man you’d only dreamt about would land in your lap, in the form of your mothers fiancé.
Keep reading
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parsimonius · 2 days ago
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okayyyyy I haven’t been back here in a hot sec. Turns out mental fatigue is real and I’ve been too tired with my whole life. However! I got out of my funk due to an awesome tiktoker/Ao3 writer who proposed the idea of Gotham herself killing the joker.
And yall know me (or not!), but I’m someone always down to play around with canon and fanon.
TikTok/Ao3/tumblr creds: @ iheartdeadmen79, and just_lien on ao3! Tumblr: @iheartdeadmen79
Soooooo: fic! (And a sneaky peek):
He doesn’t die on her soil.
If he had, she could have saved him.
She isn’t able to bring him back to life in places where she does not reside. She doesn’t even realize he is dead and gone until her knight brings his body back over her threshold.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/63140911
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chris-in-the-headlights · 11 hours ago
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We got what might just be the best chapter yet! Seriously go check it out
@star-lights-up, I will be quoting “life-binding soul-sucking contract with the biggest douchebag of the millennium” for the rest of my days
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finelinefae · 5 months ago
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bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]
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synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing
word count: 8.6k
contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)
a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !
this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here
. . .
Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 
From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 
Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.
Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 
She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.
Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 
Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 
One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.
She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 
She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 
Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 
When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 
She read his bio beneath. 
‘Harry, 30
Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans
Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’
She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 
As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 
Harry: Hey, pretty dress
She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 
Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 
Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.
Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?
Harry: Something along those lines
Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 
Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 
She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.
Harry: I’m even more impressed
She smiled, watching him type a new message. 
Harry: What brings you here?
She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 
Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 
Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 
Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 
Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.
Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 
Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx
Harry: No problem, love x
Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 
They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.
Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx
Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.
Y/N: omg really? 
Harry: What? You don’t agree?
Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater
Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say
Y/N: You think so?
Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 
Harry: Or the little deer from that movie
Harry: What was it?
Harry: Bambi!
Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 
Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 
Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 
Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 
Y/N: Well what should I call you?
Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 
. . . 
Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 
It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 
And Bambi.
Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.
After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?
Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.
She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.
“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 
Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.
She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.
He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 
Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 
He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”
“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.
Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.
Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”
He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.
Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.
Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.
He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 
“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.
Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.
They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.
In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.
“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”
His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”
“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.
Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”
Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”
Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”
Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 
“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 
She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.
“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.
Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.
“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.
“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.
She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”
“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.
. . .
“Mr. Styles?”
Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.
“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.
Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 
Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 
Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.
He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 
It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.
When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.
But then he met his Bambi. 
He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 
Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.
For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 
He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 
Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 
He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 
“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 
He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 
He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 
Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 
“Cancel them.” He shrugged.
His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 
He glanced at his phone when a text came through.
Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx
His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.
Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x
He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 
Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.
People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 
He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 
She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 
Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.
“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.
“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”
Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.
Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?
From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.
Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.
“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.
“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.
“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”
The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”
Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”
Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.
“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.
She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.
Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 
With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 
Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”
His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.
She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 
“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 
“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.
Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.
“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”
She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”
He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 
“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.
Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.
Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”
His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”
She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”
Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”
Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”
“Come work with me,” He offered. 
There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.
“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”
“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”
He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.
Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.
A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 
. . . 
Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 
A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.
She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.
She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 
Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.
And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 
Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 
Harry: Just outside x
She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 
The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.
“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”
Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 
“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 
“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.
Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.
“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.
Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 
Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.
As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.
“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.
Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.
Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”
Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”
Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 
Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.
Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.
He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”
Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”
Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”
Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”
Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 
As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?
The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 
Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”
“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.
Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”
“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 
She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 
He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”
Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”
He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”
"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.
"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."
She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”
He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.
When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.
“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.
Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”
Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.
Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”
Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.
“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"
She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”
“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”
Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."
“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”
“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.
Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”
Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”
Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”
Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”
“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”
She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”
Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”
Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”
"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"
Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.
“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”
. . . 
Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.
The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.
He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 
“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.
Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”
She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.
“S okay,” He smiled. 
The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.
“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.
She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.
Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.
The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 
When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.
Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.
“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."
She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”
In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.
Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.
"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”
Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.
As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 
Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.
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corinthianism · 1 year ago
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corinthianism's fic recs
here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut
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last updated: march 26, 2024
MARVEL
loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)
thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor
peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)
steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)
marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)
wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)
SHERLOCK (BBC)
sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero
SUPERNATURAL
sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut
dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics
castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)
THE SANDMAN
the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics
dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare
CRIMINAL MINDS
aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)
THE BOYS
soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies
homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch
GAME OF THRONES
jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)
STAR WARS
obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)
din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika
DRACULA (BBC)
count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier
LOTR/THE HOBBIT
thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)
DOCTOR SLEEP
dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg
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solasisms · 2 months ago
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my lovely friend @gefionne was gracious enough to let me draw some fanart of fen'harel!solas for her amazing (AND VERY DELICIOUS) fanfic, these hands, if not gods! (au! solavellan, smutty, WITH PLOT.) 100/10, would recommend time & time again. read it or i'll beat up vhenan please enjoy the fen'harel tiddies
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itsarockyroad · 5 months ago
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Need y’all to drop your fav “Tim doesn’t see himself as part of the batfam” angst fics
Idk if there’s a tag for that but I love the e fics where he either doesn’t go to them for help cause he thinks they don’t want to be bothered by him or fics where he plans to leave the fam because he doesn’t see himself as one of them.
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nerdynuala · 10 months ago
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Little thingy for the latest chapter of Of Saints and Sinners because it has so many scenes that are awesome for illustrating them and I wanna draw them all
And also because the fic has me in a chokehold, who am I trying to fool
@morningstarwrites is probably so tired of seeing me around but it's their fault for making me fall for these two awkward old men
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automaticsoulharmony · 2 months ago
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Guide to Tim Fics
Hi, I've gathered a list of common tropes in Tim Fics and then I'm gonna link to other posts that have a bunch of fics of that nature. Honestly doing this for my reference, so might as well let other people see it lol
Tim Travel
in which a post/during Red Robin, Tim, gets transported to a different dimension. Typically involves a happy loving batfam taking him in
Tim Joins The Batfam Early
In which Tim is a sad, lonely child, who typically bat-watches every night. Then finds his way to the Wayne’s
Tim Joins The Batfam Late
same gist as before, this usually involves Jason not dying, or just Tim for some reason not finding his way into Robin, so now someone (typically Red Hood) finds him and brings him into the fold.
The Bats Find Out/Tim Fix-it
This is really just all fics that involve Tim repairing relationships with the bats or them finding out fucked up shit that Tim has done or has happened to him
Tim and Damian
I separated this from fix-its because there's enough to make it its own category and also I like it. Very simple, Tim and Damian bond and learn to love each other. These are typically pretty short but really sweet!
TimKon/Young Justice
Fics that are focused outside the bats. That's pretty much it. Some of them are just TimKon, but inevitably have the others at least mentioned.
In-Universe AU
This sounds counter intuitive. Basically any fics where they change one major event, or add a relationship, or some shit. This will also include any Reverse Robin AU's because there aren't enough Tim-centric ones to make its own category.
Random Tim-bits
just for some random stuff that doesn’t fall into any of these categories, mostly one shots
If you have any other categories let me know. Also if you have any fics to list, put them in the replies! Thanks <333 (don't forget to comment on the fics you read and tell them they did a good job!)
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impyssadobsessions · 9 months ago
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Ahh I'm so glad I got to draw this! The Guess that Artist event in Haunting Heroes discord really gave me a reason to revisit this oneshot, Some Things You Just Can't Speak about by starfirez. Its just such a cute short story. I tried to make the change obvious. And I know the lighting doesn't show, but I purposely made Jason's palette red and Dick's cool tone to match who he was going to turn into >w< There somethings im not completely happy with but I adore how baby jason came out <3
Some Things You Just Can’t Speak About (4399 words) by starfirez Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Batfamily (DCU), playstation as a metaphor for love, just run with it please, Sibling Bonding Summary: "Go away Bruce, I ain’t talking to you," Jason said hotly. "Not Bruce," Dick replied, trying not to be offended by the mistake as Jason lifted the sheet to examine him. "Just me." "Yeah," Jason agreed, almost bitterly. "Just you." The more things change, the more they stay the same.
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jollyhunter · 22 hours ago
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I wanted to comment on so many things but unfortunately I am one beat away of being knocked out 😂😅
So let me just repeat myself: This theme and the way you manage to portray and catch the charm of it, the atmosphere, the aesthetics, the language, the characters manners (or not - I’m looking at you, Michael.) and the whole thing - just never fails to make me feel so nostalgic for some reason and with every chapter I feel like I get to spend a little time in that era… With a very handsome Dean and Sam of course 😉🧡 (… and some real angst. But hey, that’s just the salt on the chocolate right 😂)
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BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.
AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖
Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic
Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra
Word Count: 3.7K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…
✨ Series Masterlist
🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist
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Part 2: Devil May Care
After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.
Predictable. Michael was still out.
This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.
You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 
That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.
You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.
You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.
You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.
The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.
In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 
You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.
“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 
“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.
“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.
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“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 
Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 
This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 
“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.
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Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.
“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”
“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.
“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 
Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”
“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.
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Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.
He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.
“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.
“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”
Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.
“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.
Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”
Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”
“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”
“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 
Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.
“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.
“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”
Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 
Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…
“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 
Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.
“Wanna go to the club tonight?”
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A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.
It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.
Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 
The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.
Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.
You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   
You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.
“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.
Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 
Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 
Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 
“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.
“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”
You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”
“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.
Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.
You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”
Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.
Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”
“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.
Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.
“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”
You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 
“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”
I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.
His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 
“Want me to do better?” he teased. 
“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”
“Oh, I’m distracting?”
You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.
It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.
“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”
“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.
Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.
You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.
The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.
“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.
“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.
“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”
You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.
“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.
You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.
“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.
Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.
“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”
You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.
His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…
“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.
You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.
Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.
It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.
Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  
Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.
The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.
“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.
“Where to?” Sam asked.
“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”
Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.
You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.
“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.
“No, thank you,” you said thickly.
After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.
You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.
Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.
“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 
“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 
You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  
“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.
It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.
Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”
Your breath stilled in your lungs. 
His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.
Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 
Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 
Ladies first.
With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.
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AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...
Next Time:
You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.
“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”
Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”
You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”
When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.
Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”
“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”
Dean laughed freely at that.
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its-alittleobsessed · 4 months ago
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Exactly ONE person asked me for spn fic recs and it sent me into a mania i cannot explain. So here is my personal top fics that I feel no one talks about enough and that everyone should read right fucking now.
(In no particular order)
WARNING: some kind of have some dark themes but i have reread them more than once. So it’s worth it:
Canon-verse:
1. A second grace by Sometimeswelose
2. To the bone by bluehorses
3. The Lord Tests the Heart by imogenbynight
4. Unrelentingly in view by a_good_soldier
5. A complete kingdom by komodobits
6. Mouth to Manhattan by a_good_soldier
7. A thousand lives by fairy_tale_echo
8. Downstream by pantheon_of_discord
9. Cas’ Ultimate Pop Girls Mix by watchriverdale
10. By your ancient names by microcomets
11. Honorable mention bc I have to: Dean Winchester’s Take Two by alittleobsessed
AUs:
1. Sir this is a wendy’s by noviembre
2. It’s the end of the world (as we know it) by tiamatv
3. For all you young hockey players out there, pay attention by ThursdaysfallenAngel
4. Shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph
5. Where there is darkness by quittewandering
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