#halloween flash bingo

[annaofthenorthernlights]

@fluffbruary

finally... a little late, but hey, I hope you enjoy!

day 01 - rescue

This chapter also covers the prompt "would you rather be raised from the death or watch somebody die" for the Halloween Flash Bingo at @slumberpartybingo

and for @thefamilybruno because - well - it´s a Gaston-redemption au... 🧡

[badassbutterfly1987]

For the Halloween Flash Bingo: Pumpkin Carving: Thomas + Maggie + Harry... Bondage: Harry/Murphy

These should be fun!

1. Bondage (Harry/Murphy)

2. Pumpkin Carving (Harry, Thomas, + Maggie)

3. “Pumpkin spice is not a good flavor” (Murphy)

4. Sprained Ankle

5. Horror Movie Marathon (Molly)

[rainisawriter]

Fall and Halloween Flash Bingo {Ficography}

-> Introduction

So, @slumberpartybingo has decided to host a smaller flash bingo event (I’ll post the link once it goes live) for both Fall and Halloween and, of course, ya know your girl had to sign up despite being swamped with Flufftober stuff lmao For this one, though, I’ll be intertwining these WITH Flufftober so it should be fun =D

The dividers I’m using were made by the wonderful @1-800-shedevil in this post.

-> Fall Ficography

Never have I ever… taken a bike ride through the woods.

Autumn Aesthetics: Leaves dancing in the breeze.

Dare: Make a donation to a food bank.

Fall Bucket List: Drive-in movie with all the blankets.

Would you rather… pumpkin spice or cinnamon?

-> Halloween Ficography

Never have I ever… been trapped in the dark.

Macabre Monsters: Hell Hound.

Truth: Do you believe in magic?

Frightening Films: Hocus Pocus.

Would you rather… tell ghost stories or watch scary movies?

[fanofspooky]

Scream King - Richard Brake

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Two "Health is the Most Enjoyed, But the Least Envied."

Bucky’s captors leave their prisoner to fight through his illness. If you look at the CW and still decide to read, it’s on you ❤️ CW: sickness, overeating, paranoia, imprisonment, poor treatment of POWs, infection. Prompts filled: ‘Hidden’, December 2nd prompt, Dead Dove December “I’m fine”, December 2nd Prompt, Whumpcember ‘Sickness’, December 2nd prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Blood From the Mouth’, Multifandom Flash Beehive Bingo ‘Disembodied Screams’, Halloween Horror Bingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I seemed to have been all but forgotten about. Twice a day, the door opened, and one of two figures pushed a tray into my cell, identifiable only be their outline against the harsh light behind them. I called them ‘Little’ and ‘Large’, and they called me ‘упрямый’. ‘Stubborn’, I would soon learn. They never removed my trays unless they were empty – and only once was it empty, when my howling stomach had driven me to launch the unidentifiable mush against the wall for fear of a swifter demise if I couldn’t maintain my willpower. It took three days for me to drink their water, my lips sticking together from dehydration, no doubt spurred on by the violent sweating that came as a result of my illness. When the plastic was empty, I chewed on it until I was left with a relatively sharp – if flexible – edge, hidden in my waistband. And I waited.

It was usually ‘Little’ in the evening, much to my relief; alongside the size difference, he stepped further into the cell, crouching to place the tray on the ground rather than tossing it carelessly into the room. He was always silent, his eyes diverted. But this time, he sat on the floor with a heavy sigh, staring at me for a moment over the tray. “…You must eat.” I blinked in surprise, hand freezing halfway around my side, mere inches from my hidden weapon. “I-I… What?” “Eat,” he repeated, nudging the tray toward me once more. “They say you have not yet eaten. You are strong, Американский , but if you do not eat, you will still die.” His accent was weaker than that of the other man, but he was still clearly Russian-born, and I furrowed my brow in irritation. “I’m fine.” My voice cracked from disuse, and he offered me a weak smile. “You are sick. From the… Removal,” he added, inclining his head toward the residual stump of my arm, and I scowled. “I need a doctor, not food. Antibiotics. Medicine?” I added when he cocked his head curiously. “Ah – лекарство, yes. Medicine. In the food,” he noted, gesturing. “Eating will help.” “You’re trying to drug me without my knowledge?” I growled, leaning forward, muscles tensing despite my weakness as my hand curled around my makeshift blade. He only smiled again, hands spread wide. “Would you have taken a pill?” I hesitated, eyes narrowing, and released the shiv once more. “No. But what makes you think I’ll eat your food, either?” He sighed, dusting off his hands as he pushed himself to his feet. “No food – you die. Food – you may live, Американский. The choice is for you to make. You are not supposed to be medicated; they want to see how long you take to die from your sickness. But I could not watch you suffer any longer. I have no fight with you, Американский. Only the Germans. So please, eat. Do not let my risk be for nothing.” The door clanged shut behind him, leaving me once more in the deafening silence, punctuated only by the disembodied screams of my fellow prisoners drifting through the crack under the door as I peered at the tray before me curiously. Is this a new tactic? A trick, to convince me to eat? I should have taken him hostage. I might have gotten out of here. I couldn’t convince myself it was true, however. I’d seen only part of the compound, glimpsed through the barred windows as I was half-dragged to this dank room, but I knew it was crawling with Soviet soldiers. I’d have been shot before I cleared the yard, no doubt about it. But maybe that would be better. Dying on my feet like a man, quickly, rather than rotting until starvation, sickness, or poison kills me slowly… I’d come to terms with my impending death. The only thing left to decide was how. But only one of the options before me had any chance of survival.

Once I started eating, it was a fight to stop. The trays left dotted around the cell were in various stages of decomposition, from mildly stale to furry with mold, and I ate anything that wasn’t likely to accelerate my demise, leaving me bloated and nauseous, curled up in the corner of the room. My discomfort was secondary to relief, however – the feeling of a full stomach, even if an unsettled one, was a revelation. As the night wore on and I didn’t find myself seizing or foaming at the mouth, I dared hope that maybe this skinny Russian really was trying to help me, in his own way. Maybe I’d even get some sleep. Maybe I won’t die in this cesspit after all. But I woke retching, my stomach on fire, barely having time to shift to my knees before partially digested mush tore its way through my oesophagus, eyes stinging at the acrid smell. The door clanged open a matter of seconds later, and I looked up, gaze narrowed, spitting the last of the bile from my mouth with a growl. “You,” I hissed, noting the slender outline as he moved toward me. “What the fuck did you do to me?” He knelt in front of me, his finger pressed to his lips urgently, and for the first time, I noticed the wide, blue eyes locked on me. Just like Stevie’s. “Nothing! Nothing, but you need to be quiet. If they hear you, they will do tests, and they will find the medicine I gave you. I will be killed, Американский. Please.” His voice was hushed but urgent, and I bit back another round of vomiting as his gaze cast around the cell. “…You ate it all?” “I was hungry,” I snapped, glaring. “I hadn’t eaten in days.” “This food is likely to make you sick when fresh. I have not poisoned you, Американский – you have poisoned yourself. Do you see?” He shifted one of the scraps into the light, and my stomach churned at the discoloured meat. “I-I didn’t even realise. I was just so hungry,” I whispered, wincing. “I’d have eaten anything.” He shook his head with a sigh, freezing when I growled as he raised his hand. “Calm. I am not going to hurt you, Американский.” I stiffened but stilled obligingly, eyes slitted in warning. But he simply ran the edge of his sleeve across the corner of my mouth, drawing back with a weak smile. “Blood. From sickness. You will be okay, I think.” I blinked in surprise, touching a finger to the spot where he’d brushed against my lips. I can’t remember the last person to touch me without violence. Actually… That’s not true. My mind flickered with images of a night a few weeks earlier, a hundred miles further north, when the cold became intolerable and my Captain found himself curled in my bed in an abandoned farmhouse and the feet between us became inches, then millimetres, then less, then nothing, his arms still bizarrely large as one slid under my head on a threadbare pillow, the other snaking hesitantly around my waist. I’d lain still, of course, feigning sleep - but I knew he could hear my heartbeat pick up just as well as I could. He simply held me closer, burying his face in the back of my neck gently, just as I had to him when he was a skinny creature shivering in the Brooklyn winters. I didn’t let the tears fall until I was certain he was asleep, tipping my head back gently to press closer, shivering with nervous joy instead of cold. I’d known what I was for a long time, but it took lying in his arms to realise that I didn’t just love men, but one specific man. And now here was this boy, no older than Steve himself, but leaner than my Captain was now, wiping blood from my mouth tenderly amidst this hellscape.

@halloweenhorrorbingo @multifandom-flash @whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec

[thechaosdomain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Haunted House, Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, but only a smidge, A touch of ronance, Not Beta Read Summary:

On a dark and stormy actually no on a normal October night Steve and Eddie go to a haunted house.

[nekoannie-chan]

Multifandom Flash Bingo

Multifandom Flash Bingo Card Masterlist

Multifandom Flash Bingo Round 2 Masterlist

Multifandom Flash Bingo Halloween 2023 Masterlist 

Multifandom Flash Bingo Round 3 Masterlist

[princessmisery666]

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending. 

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own. 

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day. 

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again. 

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him. 

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.” 

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours. 

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will. 

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise? 

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later. 

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.  

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.” 

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?” 

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.” 

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension. 

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.” 

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first. 

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both. 

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play. 

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.” 

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests. 

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks. 

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.” 

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.” 

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh. 

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.” 

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.  

“That hurt?” he asks. 

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.” 

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile. 

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial. 

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s. 

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him. 

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Hey, hi,” you answer. 

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” 

“You okay?” 

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.” 

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine. 

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.” 

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.” 

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.” 

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.” 

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.” 

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?” 

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better. 

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair. 

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.” 

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes. 

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard. 

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.” 

“They seem like a good bunch.” 

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you. 

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them. 

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you. 

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction. 

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls. 

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?” 

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.” 

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer. 

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.  

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?” 

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own. 

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you. 

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you. 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.” 

“Good for them.” 

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards. 

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong. 

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you. 

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…” 

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.” 

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly. 

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away. 

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again. 

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. 

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop. 

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door. 

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

[annaofthenorthernlights]

Wrapped in the mood

@flufftober @slumberpartybingo (Halloween/Fall Flash Bingo)

Fandom: Frozen Pairing: Kristanna Rating: T Words: 969

covering follwoing prompts:

flufftober 2023 day 08 “rainy day”

Fall-Flash Bingo „Autumn aesthetics: Thick knit scarves wrapped around your neck”

Halloween Flash Bingo “Frightening films: [Rec]"

The rain has been pouring down for days, clearly autumn weather, and it is pelting them with full force. Kristoff is glad that it's Friday evening and the weekend is beckoning to relax and put his feet up. After a hectic week, there is nothing better than spending some quality time indoors with his fiancée, spending an afternoon without getting soaked.

Read on AO3

[starxanemone]

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ BIG BAD COP, CUTE LITTLE BUNNY

oliver aiku x fem!reader — slight nsfw. oneshot.

big bad cop goes to the club in search for a little plaything. too bad his target was slightly off the mark.

warnings ! mdni ! mild sexual content — sub!oliver aiku, femdom!reader, teasing, neck kissing, very slight dirty talking. slight sexism on aiku's part, but it's okay, we're gonna put him in his place !!

note — target locked on oliver aiku. i've been writing more nsfw stuff because i'm on my period lol. also, let me know if you guys want a part 2!

He’s not completely sure how this happened. One second, he was waltzing inside the club—flashing and circling lights catching his heterochromatic irises every few seconds, loud music blasting into his ears, and bodies grinding against each other—he’s drinking and rizzing up some random pretty girl, and the next he’s got a hand squeezing his neck.

It was halloween. Naturally, it was easy to find just any random hot woman around him—one that would be worthwhile to be around for the night. Although he admits that he hasn’t done anything past the few kisses here and there, and sure, maybe he’s exaggerated many of his little “escapades” to his friends, Oliver would say that he’s still got experience.

How hard could it be? It’s all in the mindset, really, and most of the time, he’s just not really up for the super sexual stuff. Girls were easy to fool, but they were difficult to get rid of. They fall too easily and latch their nails on tight, he thinks to himself. It’s better to just play around, albeit more safely.

And so, when he spots a girl out sitting at the very corner of the room, the corners of his lips twitch.

Bingo.

You were wearing a little white dress with pink flowers designing the fabric. Your bunny ear headband flopped cutely against the side of your head each time you moved to look around quietly. You were dressed like a bunny and you looked like the cutest one out there with your adorable eyes and seemingly quiet personality sticking out against the loudness of the setting.

Oh, but where and when did it become different?

Was it when he approached you and you looked up at him from where you were seated? Was it when he whispered into your ear about how pretty you were? Was it when you grinned with a sort of twinkle in your eye that got him questioning himself?

Or was it just you?

“You seem like a pretty confident person, Mr. Aiku.” You smile up at him, cheeks bunching and the corners of your eyes crinkling.

“Oliver’s just fine, sweetheart,” He returns your smile, though his appears more suave. He’s got it down to a tee. He’s been doing this for ages and girls always fall at his feet whenever he gives his million-dollar smiles. “And yes, though I’m far from perfect, I would still say that I am.”

It was good to sound humble. Girls didn’t like guys who were full of themselves.

“Hm? Are you sure?” You tilt your head innocently, almost sounding teasing to his ears. “Are you sure about me, then?”

“About you?” He’s confused by the strangely straightforward question, but he takes a sip of the alcohol in his hand to hide it. “Of course.”

He sets his cup down onto the counter and slowly brings his hand up to caress your bunny ear headband. Easy does it—slow and steady. He pinches the fluffy fabric between his fingers and leans in slightly, staring into your eyes as he grins, “You look like a good girl. A cute little bunny.”

You laugh at his words and he’s thrown off by the response.

Was it too much? But no, lines like that always worked on girls who looked like you. Girls who were quiet, dressed in frilly girly clothing, and looked like they were dragged into such a raunchy club like this by their friends to give them more ‘experience.’ Shouldn’t your round cheeks be red like a strawberry right now?

Where did it go differently?

He blinked owlishly when you gingerly place a hand on his right thigh, pressing against the black slacks of his police uniform slash costume and simultaneously against his skin when you whisper into his ear. You were leaning over a little and as he glances momentarily over your shoulder, he sees a fluffy circular tail pinned above where your ass was. A shiver runs across spine and he still hasn’t let go of your bunny ears.

“Didn’t you know that it’s rude to assume? And…” You chuckle into his ear, your voice dipping slightly deeper to an almost sensual-like quality. “... that it’s also rude to look so openly?

His eyes widen, snapping to yours immediately in bewilderment. His hand drops to his sides.

Oh— oh. You saw that.

Truly, he was asking the wrong type of question here. Because it did not matter where or when it went differently, because it was more correct to focus on the ‘who?’

And it was you.

Slowly, he feels your hand moving up from his thigh, brushing lightly against his clothed stomach, then to his chest, before it reaches up even further to encircle around his neck. You squeeze once. His eyes remain wide and he gulps, looking up at you when you move to stand in front of him.

What…

At this point, he wasn’t really sure what to expect anymore.

You thumb his neck, lightly caressing his throat. You move your thumb down, inserting it between the space of his dark blue collar to touch his collar bone. You feel him shiver once more, so you grin.

“Too much?” You tilt your head in question, voice with a teasing lilt.

He jolts in surprise, shaking his head in response. His throat had already gone dry, and he honestly wasn’t sure about what to say or do next. This hasn’t exactly happened before and he hadn’t calculated the possibility of this happening to him.

By now, you’ve both ignored the people surrounding you along with the blinding lights and the booming music that envelops the entire vicinity. But it was fine; nobody really cared. You were aware enough from the frequent visits with your friends that nobody gave a flying fuck about the next two strangers shoving their tongues down each other’s throats for everyone to see.

He was wrong about you at that part too. You weren’t a good girl and you most likely weren’t dragged here.

“Do you want to continue?”

His brain has short-circuited by now, but you guess it’s working enough for him to nod, albeit a little shakily.

“I need you to speak up for me.” You pout. “I only take a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’”

“Y-Yes…”

“Good boy.” You coo and he feels his cheeks and ears instantly flush. He’s never had any woman say that to him before nor speak in such a manner, and especially not in a cute little innocent-looking bunny costume.

He breathes in deeply when you swing your legs over his thighs, sitting down on his lap with your arms slung over his shoulders.

“Have you ever kissed someone, darling?” You breathe out the question against his ear and he shivers at the sudden warm air tickling his skin.

“O-Of course, I have.” His answer comes out a little defensively and you giggle in amusement at the tone.

“Just making sure because I don’t want to be the one to take a good boy’s first kiss away from them.” You tell him sweetly before pressing your lips against his neck.

You press your lips all over the expanse of his neck; one, two, three times, even more, and he can’t count anymore when his brain melts at the repeated sensation hitting him in one of the best parts and spreading across his body like wildfire. He feels your lips part as your tongue rolls out to brush against his skin and he grunts at the sudden sensation, his hands moving up to hold your waist, clammy fingers digging slightly hard. But when you part your lips even more to pull his skin between your teeth, a sudden groan escapes his lips.

“Oh?” You giggle against his neck. “You like that, huh? You like it when a cute wittle bunny girl bites you and puts you in your place, don’t you? What a naughty boy.”

Fuck. Where is this even going? He’s never had a girl talk and do things to him like this before. Usually it was the other way around—him playing with the girl like a little toy for him to control. But the thing is, it never went way beyond the little makeout sessions and the cheeky touches on clothing-clad skin.

“I’m a ‘good girl,’ right? A cute little bunny, hm?” You hum, sucking on his neck momentarily, hearing him release another quiet groan before pulling away. “Well, here’s my observation. You’re a big bad cop and you came here to look for an adorable girl to fuck with and add to your ‘collections.’ But here’s the thing, baby: appearances can only tell you so much.”

You pout as you scold him mockingly. You grasp his face firmly, cheeks squishing a little between your hold as you force his heterochromatic gaze to focus on yours.

He tries to ignore the way the term ‘baby’ makes his heart flutter. Like seriously, what was he? A budding high school kid in the middle of a raging puberty?

“Oh, looks like (First Name) has found another one.” Oliver hears someone say at the corner of his ear amidst all of the music. He turns his gaze to the girls standing a few feet away from right behind you to see that they were grinning right at your back. Their gaze turns to him and he gulps when your—he guessed—friends send him a thumbs up, two of them mouthing a ‘good luck.’

Another one? He furrows his brows, the words somehow causing his stomach to drop slightly. Was this how the girls he was with felt? He never truly considered it, too caught up with always being in the position of power.

You turn your head curiously a little to gaze at what he was looking at. You wave at them enthusiastically for a second before turning back to look at him, his cheeks still squished between your fingers and unshaved chin pressing against your palm. It was as if they weren’t even there in the first place.

You release your hold on his face to pat his cheek. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I was having fun playing with you.”

You reach behind him to run the sharp nail of your middle and index finger against his clothed back and he automatically sits up straighter at the ticklish feeling. “You act all sauve, all dominant, but you don’t seem like you’ve got a lot of experience, do you? I can tell.”

“Here’s what I think,” You pretend to think for a second, looking up at the ceiling before snapping your gaze back to him with a wolfish grin. It really looked out of place from your little bunny costume. “I think that it’s all just a front to mask your fragile ego. But it’s okay, pretty boy, I got you. You don’t need to play pretend with me.”

All of your words combined with your sensual touches has got his mind jumbled up and in a frenzy. You were more intoxicating than the cocktail he was sipping previously, and likely the only thing that could ever make him drunk like this.

All he could muster was a small pathetic, “Okay…”

You reach up to grasp the back of his hair, tugging on it lightly causing him to gasp. “Address me properly.”

Huh? He blinks, frantically wracking his brain for the right title amidst the slight searing pain erupting around the back of his head due to your firm hold.

“M-Miss?” He tries unsurely.

You unclench your hand and pat his cheek again condescendingly. “Good job! You got it on the first try. You will address me as such for the duration of this night, m’kay?”

For the duration of this night. This night and this night only. His heart clenches a little and his stomach knots underneath his skin. Of course it wasn’t going to go way beyond that point, and really, who was he to complain? He’s done the same thing to multiple other girls in the past. Maybe this was some sort of karma or something.

Nevertheless, he answers. “Okay, Miss.”

He was going to be in for a long ride.

[rainisawriter]

Made With Love – Shibaman (PSF #10)

PSF Ficography | H&F Flash Ficography

Genre: Fluff, romance, slice of life

Prompt: Love of my Life (@flufftober) / Leaves dancing in the breeze (Fall Flash @slumberpartybingo)

Word Count: 5,249

Pairing: Reader x Shibaman

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

If someone had asked you a year ago if you believed in love or soulmates, you probably would have said no. It just wasn’t something that ever crossed your mind, mostly because you just didn’t have the time. Between dealing with Kuryu trying to destroy Sword, then Housen and Oya going at it… It kept you pretty busy. 

Things had been peaceful for several months now, though. Well, as peaceful as it could get at a place like Oya. There were still daily fights and arguments, but nothing that couldn’t be easily solved with a few punches.

With nothing else to worry about, you spent a lot of time with Tsuji, making fun of people’s poor fashion choices in magazines, and with Shibaman, listening to his favorite artists and talking about music in general.

If someone asked you to pinpoint when exactly it happened, you wouldn’t be able to answer because you simply didn’t know. You don’t know when you fell in love with Shibaman, you just knew that you had fallen hard. If you were being honest, it took you a long time to even realize it.

You started to feel nervous around him, worrying about how you acted or the things you said. You were afraid he would look at you differently. There were also the physical effects he had on you. Every time his eyes met yours, your heart would race. Hearing his voice never failed to make you feel calm and happy. His touch set butterflies free in your gut and when he spoke your name, you felt like you were melting.

You thought you were sick or maybe even allergic to him. It was so foreign to you that it was jarring, so you started to avoid him. He didn’t like this, of course, so he confronted you about it. You had no idea how to explain what you were feeling, at least not until Tsuji intervened.

He had noticed the change between the two of you – and he wasn’t the only one, either. To your surprise, Shibaman had been experiencing the exact same feelings. He loved you, too, so you started dating to test the waters. It was awkward as hell at first. It felt as if something had changed between you and you hated it.

It took a while, but you finally figured out that things didn’t need to change simply because you were a couple now. It took time, but the two of you soon fell back into the familiar groove you had sat in throughout your friendship and it was amazing.

Shibaman was the love of your life, you realized. All you wanted was to be near him and for him to be happy. You would do anything to make him feel loved, to make him realize how special he was to you. 

With his birthday and Halloween coming up soon, you wanted to do something special because, this year, the two of you were more than just friends. It took you a while to figure out what you wanted to do and you weren’t even sure it was a good idea. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, though, so you knew you had to at least try.

You could only hope your efforts wouldn’t be wasted and that he wouldn’t hate it.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Ready to go?” Shibaman leaned toward you from where he sat on the couch, a smile on his lips.

You offered him an apologetic smile. “I actually have plans today…”

The two men exchanged a surprised look before Tsuji questioned, “Don’t tell me you’re cheating on us.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you stood up. “No, never. I do need to get going, though.”

“Where are you going?” Shibaman stood up, reaching for your hand. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, you can’t!” You replied quickly, making his brow furrow. You mentally cursed yourself, scrambling for a believable excuse. “My cousin is coming into town today. I… haven’t seen her in a long time and she’s not really a fan of guys, so…” You mentally cursed again for choosing such a terrible lie.

Whether he believed it or not, he didn’t question it. “Be safe. If you need me, call me.”

“I will, I promise.” You cupped his cheek, pulling him down into a soft kiss that stole his breath away. “I’ll see you later.” You smiled at the two before rushing out of the room, unaware of the worried look the two exchanged.

It took a while for you to reach Housen, mostly because you were paranoid that the boys were following you so you took the road less traveled. The students looked at you strangely when you entered the school, but they knew who you were and had no desire to fight you. Housen and Oya had long since squashed their beef.

“Excuse me,” you called out, tapping a boy on the shoulder. When he turned, you recognized him instantly. “Ah, Sawamura!”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see Yuken. Can you take me to him?”

“Yeah, sure,” he motioned for you to follow before starting down the hall. “What do you need to see him for?”

“Ah, well…” you rubbed the back of your neck, offering him a sheepish smile. “It’s a bit personal.”

He hummed, giving you a playful smile. “I hope you’re not going to confess. You know he’s dating Meg.”

You laughed at the thought. “I would never betray her like that. Besides, you know I’m dating Shibaman.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Does he know you’re here?”

You frowned, lowering your gaze to the floor. You felt bad lying to him but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

“That’s a no, then,” he replied softly, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Sawamura.”

He led you toward a classroom on the first floor, sitting at the back of the school. The Four Heavenly Kings, along with a bunch of seniors, were crowded around the room, watching two students try to take down Jinkawa. The keyword there being try.

“Wait here,” Sawamura told you before moving farther into the room. Yuken was sitting at the back of the room with his girlfriend, the two watching something on his phone. Sawamura leaned down to tell him the situation, pointing over at you.

Yuken met your eyes and you smiled politely, waving your hand at him. Meg leaned to the side to see around the large boys standing between the two of you, a grin on her lips as she waved at you.

You waved back before forming a heart with your hearts. She pretended to catch it, holding it against her chest before both of you started laughing. Yuken shook his head, pressing a kiss to her cheek before standing up and approaching you.

“What can I do for you?” he inquired, a charming smile on his lips.

You glanced at the group of men gathered in the center of the room. Most of them were focused on the fight, but a few were sending you curious looks. “Can we talk somewhere more… private?”

He quirked a brow, glancing at the other boys before nodding. “Sure. Follow me.”

You followed him outside, taking a deep breath of the cool autumn air. “I need your help.”

“My help? Shouldn’t you be asking Oya?”

“This isn’t a problem they can help with,” you frowned, glancing around to ensure you were alone. “Is it true that you know how to crochet?”

Yuken scowled, a hand on his hip. “I told Meg not to tell anyone that.” 

“So, it’s true then?” You gave him a hopeful look and he nodded. “Please teach me!”

He hummed curiously, folding his arms over his chest. “I expect diligence. No slacking off and no excuses.”

“I understand. I promise to be a good student!”

Yuken considered this for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Give me your number so I can text you when I get everything set up.”

“Thank you so much,” you grinned.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

For the next two months, you visited Yuken every few days to learn how to crochet and begin working on the sweater you wanted to make for Shibaman. You chose the softest yarn you could find, using black as the base color. It took a while for you to decide between cats and pumpkins, but you finally chose both.

In the center of the sweater would be a jack-o-lantern with a cat leaning the upper half of its body on top of it. You also planned to add a witch’s hat. You could clearly see the design in your head, but it was much harder to bring to life than you had anticipated.

“Damn it,” you cursed, scowling down at the design before you. The jack-o-lantern was misshapen despite having redone it about twenty times. If you couldn’t even get a pumpkin right, how in the hell were you going to get the cat done? You were getting frustrated, especially since his birthday was quickly approaching.

“Don’t get frustrated,” scolded Yuken, peering at you over his glasses. “It’ll only make the stitching look worse.”

“I know,” you muttered, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You carefully undid the stitch before trying again, slower this time, but it still came out looking funky. “Ugh! Why is this so damn hard?!”

“I did warn you that this pattern wasn’t beginner-friendly,” he tutted, sitting back in his chair as he worked on a pair of mittens for his girlfriend. Unlike your creation, his was pristine and well crafted, clearly made by a professional.

“Maybe I should have hired you to make one instead of teach me,” you sighed, sliding down in your seat. 

“You’d regret it.”

“Huh?”

“You chose to learn how to crochet because you wanted to make something for the person you love, right?” He quirked a brow at you. “You wanted to craft something with your own hands, your own heart, to show him how much he means to you. That is the soul of crocheting – making things with love for the people you care about most. The feeling simply doesn’t transfer if someone else makes it.”

You frowned at the sweater in your hands, taking in his words. “You’re right, but… it looks god awful, he’s going to hate it. What was I thinking? Shibaman is into fashion and hip-hop, why the hell would he want a crocheted Halloween sweater? I’m so stupid!” You groaned, hanging your head.

Yuken scoffed, sending you an offended look. “If he’s not grateful for your hard work, then the problem lies with him, not you. Taking the time to crochet something for someone is the ultimate form of love and respect! And if he disrespects that, I’ll kick his ass myself!”

“You’re really passionate about this, huh…”

“Everyone needs something to be passionate about.”

“I thought that was fighting.”

He clicked his tongue. “Other than fighting. Come on, you need a break before you ruin the yarn.”

You set the sweater carefully in its box, closing the lid before following the male away from Housen and toward the local café to grab some lunch. The woman at the counter greeted him cheerfully, so you assumed he came here often.

Yuken sat down across from you, folding his hands on the table. “Tell me honestly, why did you choose to crochet a sweater for him? There are plenty of gift options that may be more… suited to his tastes.”

“Why?” You frowned at the table, scratching your cheek in thought. “As soon as I thought of the idea, it just felt… right, I guess. This is the first time we’re celebrating his birthday and Halloween as a couple, so I really want it to be special. I wanted to make him something myself because…”

“It feels more personal?” He guessed, quirking a brow.

“Yes.”

“The fact that you chose crochet over all other art forms tells me that you understand the craft at its base level. As long as you understand that, then no matter what you craft, no matter how imperfect it may be, it will be perfect in the eyes of the one receiving it.”

You didn’t feel entirely convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“You’re the crochet expert, I guess.”

“Just… don’t go around telling people that, alright?”

“Sure, sure.”

While the two of you continued talking, Shibaman and Tsuji just so happened to be passing by. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to glance over, but his eyes fell on you immediately, widening in surprise. You had told him you were going to help your cousin get settled into her new apartment outside of Sword, yet there you were, sitting in a cafe with Housen’s Odajima.

Tsuji paused when he realized the taller male had stopped walking. He followed the male’s gaze, removing his glasses with a frown. “They are definitely not cousins.”

Shibaman frowned, feeling frustration and pain settle in his gut. Though he wasn’t fond of the idea of you meeting up with other schools, that isn’t what bothered him. Why had you lied to him about it? Why weren’t you honest with him?

Tsuji glanced at him, nudging his arm. “Don’t jump to conclusions. We should confront -”

“No,” Shibaman shook his head, beginning to walk away.

“No?” Tsuji quickly followed him, brow furrowed. “Don’t you want the truth?”

“Of course I do,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn’t want to demand answers from you, though. He wanted you to come clean on your own. “Don’t say anything about this.”

Tsuji had an idea of what his best friend was thinking, though he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. “Fine, I won’t say anything,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Baby,” called Shibaman, slipping his hand into yours as he leaned closer to you. “Do you want to go see a movie?”

Tsuji glanced up from the magazine he was reading. “My uncle just recently started working at the theater. He can get us in for free.”

“Oh, uh…” you rubbed the back of your neck with a frown. “I’d like to, but…”

“You have to see your cousin,” guessed Shibaman, his jaw tensing as he turned his gaze toward the wall.

You could feel how tense his body was and you didn’t notice the way he tried to subtly shift away from you. Guilt pooled inside your gut. “I’m sorry…”

He nearly asked if you really were sorry, but he bit back the question, pulling his hand free as he stood up. “It’s fine.”

You weren’t dumb. You knew this man like the back of your hand and you knew it very much was not fine. He wasn’t the type to speak his mind, though, and preferred to bottle things up until he simply couldn’t any longer. It was obvious that he was getting fed up with your cousin and you constantly ditching them.

Tsuji stood up to follow but paused when you called out his name. He quirked a brow at you but you could tell his usual friendliness toward you was gone. He didn’t like it when his brother was upset.

You quickly shut the door in case Shibaman was still close by and you lowered your voice. “I know you’re mad at me -”

“That’s an understatement,” he scoffed, having to bite his tongue to stop from mentioning the cafe. 

You chewed on your lip, having an internal debate with yourself about whether or not to tell him. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell Shibaman.”

“I can’t promise that.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed from behind his colored glasses. “If you’re hiding something from him, he deserves to know.”

“And he will,” you promised him. “Just… I need a bit more time.”

“Time for what?”

You glanced at the door before leaning toward him. “I’m working on something for his birthday. It’s… taking longer than I thought it would. I didn’t want to lie but I want it to be a surprise.”

Tsuji felt surprised by this information. Why hadn’t he considered that you might be planning something? He felt a bit dumb for not thinking of it sooner, but he also felt a bit hurt that you hadn’t confided in him sooner. “You should have told me.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry…”

He sighed deeply, bringing his hand to his forehead. “I’ll see what I can do, but you better hurry up. He knows something’s up and he’s getting impatient.”

“I know…”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Come on, you got this!” cheered Meg, staring at you with a grin.

“Just a little bit more,” encouraged Yuken with a nod, leaning toward you. 

“Hurry up, you’re so close!”

“No, don’t hurry up! Don’t rush it now!”

You looked up from the sweater with a scowl, sitting back when you realized just how close the two of them were to your face. “Can you two give me some space?”

“Oh, are you having performance anxiety?” snickered Meg as she sat back down.

You scoffed, muttering under your breath, “Anyone would with you two breathing down their neck.”

“Hey, we’re just trying to help.” Yuken sat down as well, arms folded over his chest. He was watching you intently, his shoulders tense as he watched the way you were stitching the last bit of the sweater.

Meg noticed this and laughed, resting her hand on his arm. “I think you’re more tense and you’re not even the one making it.”

“Of course I am! This is the creation of my first student.”

“Your first student?” she grinned, quirking a brow. “Does that mean you’re gonna take on more?”

Yuken said nothing, though he’d be lying if he said the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. He enjoyed teaching you more than he thought he would, despite how frustrating you could be at times.

“Yuken’s Crochet studio,” you snickered, glancing at him. “Got a nice ring to it.”

“Focus,” he scolded, refusing to admit that he did like the sound of it.

“Alright, keep your panties on.” You did as he instructed, focusing on the last few stitches. A few tense moments of silence ticked by. “There… it’s done.” You stood up, holding up the completed sweater.

It was far from perfect, the cat looking a bit derpy and the pumpkin still misshapen, but it had its own unique charm to it. It was one of a kind, made with all the love you held in your heart for Shibaman. That made up for the imperfections.

“What do you think?” you questioned nervously.

“It’s super cute,” smiled Meg. “He’s going to love it!”

Yuken nodded, giving you a proud look. “I have to say, I wasn’t confident that you would stick with it until the end.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But you did and I’m proud of you.”

You chuckled, feeling happy at the praise. “Thank you, Yuken-sensei.”

Yuken put his hands together in front of him and bowed, deepening his voice. “Now, go out into the world, my pupil.”

Meg snorted. “What voice is that supposed to be?”

“Yoda.”

“That wasn’t even close.”

“I tried my best,” he pouted, pulling her into his arms.

You carefully folded the sweater before placing it in the box and securing it with an orange ribbon. “His birthday is tomorrow… wish me luck.”

“You got this,” Meg smiled, offering you a thumbs up. “And if he doesn’t appreciate it, Yuken will kick his ass.”

Yuken nodded, pushing up his glasses. “I won’t stand for anyone disrespecting such a sacred art.”

“Thanks, guys.” You offered them a bow and a grateful smile before scooping up the box and heading home.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this nervous, your heart racing within your chest. You were honestly tempted to just drop the gift off and run away, not wanting to see his reaction, but you knew you couldn’t do that. It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted to make up for avoiding him lately.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of his house. His older sister was the one who answered, looking tired. “He left already.”

“Eh?” your brow furrowed. He had always waited for you to arrive before heading to school so it was strange that he had gone ahead of you. “O-Oh, um… thank you.”

“Oi,” she called out, eyes narrowed at you. “He’s been moping around lately. If I find out you’re the reason, I’m gonna kick your ass.” And then she slammed the door in your face.

You scowled in frustration, though you weren’t sure if it was more toward her or yourself. You knew you were the cause and it pissed you off despite having done it with good intentions. Surely he would forgive you… right?

Holding the box to your chest, you rushed toward Oya high, keeping an eye open for the pair as you went. You entered the broadcast room with a smile, expecting to see your boyfriend sitting on the couch, listening to music. It was Todoroki who sat on the couch, though, reading one of his books.

Tsuji stood up when you entered, a frown on his lips. “He had already left when I got to his house this morning. I have no idea where he is.”

“Oh,” you frowned, chewing on your bottom lip. You thought about it for a moment before carefully setting the box beside Todoroki. “Can you make sure he gets this please?”

“Of course,” Tsuji offered you a smile, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. It did little to help, though.

“Thank you.” You offered him a bow before turning and leaving the room. Without Shibaman there, it felt pointless to stay at school so you decided to just leave.

Rather than go home, you chose to go for a walk around town to clear your head. The wind was chilly, making you retreat farther into the jacket you were wearing. It had originally belonged to Shibaman so it was quite large on you and it still faintly smelled of him. 

A light misty rain started to fall from the cloudy sky, feeling cold against your face but you didn’t mind. The rain was peaceful and helped you relax whenever you felt stressed. It wasn’t heavy rain, anyway, so the likelihood of you catching a cold from it was slim.

Despite how peaceful and quiet the world around you felt, you couldn’t stop thinking about Shibaman. Where was he? Was he okay? Was he mad at you? Or was he just hurt by your lies? You wished you could find him and explain everything, but you knew he didn’t want to be found. He wanted to be alone so he could sort out his own feelings.

That was fine with you, you just wished it hadn’t fallen on his birthday. Today was supposed to be special for him, to be free of worry or want. You had royally screwed that up, though.

With a sigh, you plopped down on the wooden bench inside the makeshift park. Honestly, you weren’t even sure it met the qualifications to be considered a park because it was just a small strip of grass with trees planted at each corner. A sad-looking swing set sat in the middle, the metal rusted and worn.

You doubted it was safe to use, though there were few things within Sword that were. The city’s entire aesthetic was danger.

You slid down on the bench as thunder rumbled softly overhead, leaning your head back so you could stare up at the sky. The tree to your left was completely bare, its leaves scattered across the ground like discarded newspapers. The tree on your right, though, was still clinging to a few of them, as if desperate to not let go.

The wind picked up and they finally broke free, dancing gently through the air as they made their way to the earth below. It was such a simple thing, but it brought a smile to your lips. 

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You stifled a yawn as you approached your apartment, reaching into the pocket of the jacket for your keys. You hadn’t intended to spend the day at the park but time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and, before you knew it, the sun was setting.

To your surprise, Shibaman was pacing back and forth outside the building, running a hand through his red hair repeatedly. He looked distressed which alarmed you.

“Shibaman? What’s-“

As soon as he heard your voice, his head snapped up. In just a couple long strides, he reached you, throwing his arms around you until you were buried in the warmth of his chest. The smell of pine and cologne filled your nostrils and you smiled, fingers curling around the black t-shirt he was wearing.

“Where have you been?” He huffed, trying to control the light tremble of his voice. “I’ve been worried sick!”

You frowned, pulling back so you could see his face. “You’re the one who disappeared. You had already left the house by the time I got there and you weren’t at school, either.”

“My sister made me go pick up some food from the convenience store,” he scowled, clearly still annoyed by this. “I told her I was waiting for you but she wouldn’t stop bitching about it. When I got back, she told me you had stopped by.”

Thinking about it, it did make sense. She’s never liked you, even when you were just his friend, claiming that you were a bad influence on him. When you started dating, she didn’t try to hide the fact that she thought you weren’t good enough for her baby brother. 

“When I got to school, Tsuji said you were looking for me then you left. I looked everywhere for you.” He cupped your face, brows punched with worry. “I thought… I thought something happened.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, love,” you told him softly, resting your hand over his. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did. Many times!”

“You did?” Your own brow furrowed in confusion as you reached for your phone only to realize it wasn’t there. You had forgotten it this morning in your excitement to get to Shibaman’s house. You offered him a sheepish, embarrassed smile. “I, uh… I forgot my phone.”

Shibaman scoffed in disbelief, lowering his head until his forehead met your shoulder. The tension was slowly leaving him now that you were safe and sound in front of him.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you told him softly, running your fingers through his hair. “And on your birthday, too.”

He chuckled, arms encircling your waist so he could bring you closer, bringing his forehead down to meet yours. “You’re safe, that’s all I need.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, pressing your lips to his. “Stay with me tonight?”

He hummed, claiming your lips again. “Of course.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Baby, wake up.” Shibaman pressed a kiss beneath your ear, arms wrapped protectively around your waist. 

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled tiredly, leaning into the warmth his body offered.

He chuckled, turning you over so you were on your back looking up at him. “You said that five minutes ago.”

“Did I?” Your brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I’m gonna stop by my place to grab something,” he told you softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll meet you at school, okay?”

“Wait, I’ll go with you.” You forced yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I’d rather keep you away from my sister,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” He put his finger beneath your chin, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You watched as he left the room, listening to his footsteps fade before the front door opened and closed behind him. Despite wanting to go back to sleep, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for the day.

It was much colder out today than it was yesterday, the sky covered by light grey clouds that made it seem more like the afternoon than early morning. You didn’t mind it, though. The cold was a welcome change from the warm weather of summer and spring, plus it gave you an excuse to steal more of your boyfriend’s jackets.

When you got to school, you were surprised to find the boys gathered in the courtyard, snickering and laughing. Curious, you made your way through the crowd, eyes widening at what you saw.

Shibaman was leaning against the building, arms folded over his chest and eyes closed. There was a slight furrow to his brow as he tried to ignore the teasing he was receiving. The reason for this teasing? He was wearing the sweater you had crocheted him.

It fit him perfectly, showing off his toned body while still being comfortable to wear. It was warm, too, easily blocking the cold wind. When you looked at the design, it felt childish to you and you felt guilty for not just making him a regular, solid sweater.

“Did you get that from your granny?” Teased one of the older boys before bursting out laughing, his friends following suit.

Shibaman opened his eyes, narrowing them at the male.

You swallowed down the nerves and embarrassment you felt, stepping forward. “I made it…”

“You did?” snorted the male. “No wonder it looks like trash -“

A fist slammed into his face, sending him flying back into the crowd with a cry. Shibaman straightened up, fire in his eyes. “Don’t you ever say that shit again or I’ll kill you.”

The crowd grew tense, their previous jolly demeanors changing to one of fear. It was easy to laugh at him and not take him seriously when he was wearing that sweater, but it didn’t change anything about how strong he was or how protective of you he was.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, lowering your head. “I didn’t consider how Oya would react. You don’t have to wear it.”

He scoffed, resting his large hand atop your head. “Of course, I’m gonna wear it. You spent months working on this, didn’t you?”

You nodded, tugging lightly at the material. “It was my first time crocheting. Yuken did his best to teach me, but… it could have been better.”

Realization flashed across his face as he remembered seeing you at the café with said male. Everything made sense now and his heart was filled with warmth and love for you. “I love it.”

“Really?” You sent him a skeptical look. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. If I didn’t like it, I’d be honest.” As badly as he wanted to kiss you, he couldn’t bring himself to do so with the crowd that was still gathered in the courtyard. PDA was not something he enjoyed. “I love this sweater and I love you.”

You searched his eyes for any hint of a lie but there was none. “You really like it?”

“I do. Thank you, baby.”

Your eyes lit up, happiness filling you. “You’re welcome!”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[thehawkeyesbingo]

The Hawkeyes Bingo proudly presents: Halloween Flash Bingo!

A bingo that surrounds Clint Barton & Kate Bishop. As a friendly reminder, you do not need to have both Kate and Clint in your work. It just has to be one or the other. 

This event will feature already made cards with five prompts, ranging from NSFW and SFW. You may do as many cards as you please.

Important Dates: Cards Release: August 29th First Day To Post: September 1st Last Day To Post October 31st

Don’t forget to tag the blog and have fun!

[multifandom-flash]

Multifandom-Flash Bingo Events

Rules:

No minimum words. Multifandom and Original works are welcome.

Any artworks are welcome.

You can combine squares from all the events.

When you post, tag @multifandom-flash, make sure to let me know: Card number/s & which rounds you wrote for.

Don't forget to add your stories to the collection: AO3 Collection Mini-Events:

Holidays in a Flash

Soulmates/BDSM/Omegaverse

If anyone wants to sign up for round 1 & 2 + Halloween/Taboo/Thanksgiving, the links are open

Round 1

Round 2

Round 3

Halloween/Taboo/Thanksgiving

Fear Flash Bingo - Sign Up

Calendar Events:

March - sign up

April - sign up

May - sign up

1st Birthday Celebration Bingo

June - Sign Up

Pour Me A Bingo

Alcohol Version - 18+

Non-Alcohol Version - under 18/SFW

Marvel Bingo

Example for Character Bingo

Example for Team Bingo

Sing Us A Pride Song

Here There Be Monsters Bingo

Calendar Event: July

9-1-1 Theme Bingo

Teen Wolf Theme Bingo (the picture below, are only an examples)

CE: August

Superstition

@thebigbangblogproject

[blackwood4stucky]

maybe we’re just born with stardust in our blood | aspen blackwood

james “bucky” barnes x steve rogers | mcu

masterpost | 🅼 | word count: 4,330 | complete

tags: ws!witch!bucky, bucky barnes centric, ws!steve

synopsis: Team Cap search for the one thing that could send Bucky back to where he started.

ch. 2: i'll use you as a focal point, so i don't lose sight of what i want

bingo fills + event prompts

@anyfandomgoesbingo | idiots to lovers

buckybarnesevents: babb 2023 | crackfic [nov monthly prompt]

@buckybarnesevents: bucky’s birthday bash

wakanda bucky + friends to lovers + steve rogers + blue

febuwhump | day 16: came back wrong

@julybreakbingo: post-july | “innocently” groping someone else

@killacharacterbingo | gunshot

@multifandom-flash

halloween [5037] | screams like a little girl round 3 [3013] | flirting under fire taboo [6049] | culture: talking about sex

@seasonaldelightsbingo: types of love bingo | pressing their foreheads together

@slumberpartybingo | would you rather: live in the big city or quiet countryside

@stuckybingo [5080] | music + aquamarine [march prompt]

@stuckygeekevents: stucky geek bingo | cold stare, mourning

stucky smut menu | shy!bucky

sweetspicybingo: sweetheart bingo | just the tip

the-slumberparty: eight types of love | eros: dirty talk

read: ao3 | ffn | sqwa

ch 1

[mrs-steve-harrington]

Your Blood On My Hands

Read on AO3

Rating: M

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Characters: Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Vecna

Additional Tags: Post-Season 4, Established Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Pre-Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Ensemble Cast, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Hurt Steve Harrington, Guilty Nancy Wheeler, POV Nancy Wheeler

Word Count: 4,038

Summary:

With Mike's life at stake, Nancy is forced by Vecna to choose who to hurt: Steve or Jonathan. Steve insists that she choose him. She listens.

Notes: Written originally with febuwhump in mind, finished just in time for the "Bloody Knife" prompt in @whumptober instead. Also fills squares for multiple bingos.

@halloweenhorrorbingo - A Heavy and Ominous Silence, The Upside Down @badthingshappenbingo - Being Watched @slumberpartybingo (Halloween Flash) - Would you rather: be abducted or lured to your demise? @lyricalescape - Hate Myself And finally, Tarot Bingo - The Hanged Man (Stalling)

[slumberpartybingo]

COMING SOON - Halloween Flash Slumber Party Bingo 🎃

Get a spooky season themed flash bingo card from September 25th (a sign up link will be posted on this date). You'll receive 5 prompts and there will be no time limit as usual to write/post. Cards will be available from 25/9 to 31/10.