#i wrote this in three hours and edited it once

[zoekrystall]

Watching su further and lapis and peridot are on screen again and I am glad I'm not the only one but my ex bff/qpp too that can't see both anymore without thinking of us (why still messaging bc I kinda became a covid info messenger for irl people)

Also I checked when that cosplay stuff was planned and 2016 jfc. That connection is there since so long oof. But also in gen su is really around since a good while huh sometimes still feels like yesterday.

[indecisivemuch]

Lovesick & Lovelorn

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You thought that Luke Castellan, your best friend, did not reciprocate your feelings for him. To cope, you wrote letters addressed to him and kept them in a box. What happens when one of your sisters finds it? Inspired by 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (fluff, best friends to lovers; you thought it was unreciprocated feelings, happy ending).

Note: Ahh, I'm so happy the show got renewed for season 2.

Word count: 3.3k

You were deeply convinced your fate was tied to one with eternal lovelorn. 

Three years ago, you arrived at Camp Half-Blood and settled into the Hermes cabin before you were claimed by your Godly parent. It was there that you met Luke Castellan - one of your soon-to-be best friends. Though, you knew you were doomed from your first glance into his eyes. Then came his friendly smile and an offer of a handshake, where his hand engulfed yours.

At first, you thought that silly little crush would dissipate. But over time, as you became close friends with the Hermes cabin counselor, you were almost convinced he was faultless. You seemed to adore every little thing about him. Along with the fondness that grew in your heart was also self-pity. At one point, even looking at him hurt because you knew he did not return your feelings.

Hence, the letters.

In between your memories of Luke were letters you wrote throughout those years just to cope with the unreciprocated feeling. It was painful, but what else could you do? You truly believed confessing would put your friendship at risk. Neither did you feel like dealing with the heartache of a rejection. So you never uttered any of your feelings to him, continuing to imprint it on lined papers instead.

You scowled as the pen you were using ran out of ink, leaving the latest edition of unspoken words unfinished. Wordlessly, you fold the incomplete letter into an envelope and shove it into the turquoise box you bought while returning from a quest once. You neatly put the box under your bed.

“Y/N, it’s time to head out,” one of your sisters repeated. Two minutes ago, people were starting to leave, so those on cleaning duties could clean up your cabin. Since you were mid-writing, you hastily asked for a few more seconds. Now, you were the only one left besides two of your sisters.

“Yes, sorry,” you quickly muttered, exiting the cabin and almost immediately bumped into Luke. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m here for you. I thought we should hang out,” Luke answered ever so casually. Yet, your heart swelled at the thought that he was there for you. Before you could reply, you two were interrupted by another camper, who told you that one of your other best friends needed you and that it was an emergency.

“I’m so sorry, we’re gonna have to take a rain check on that hangout,” you informed Luke. You slowly started walking backward and away from him. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Come find me whenever you’re done, yeah?” Luke requested, hoping to spend time with you later. His soft look made you pause mid-step, almost as if your foot had been cemented to the stones beneath. You nodded absentmindedly before snapping out of that state to comfort your friend.

After two hours of listening to your friend and comforting them, you finally left their cabin to search for Luke, who previously told you to find him after. However, around half an hour later, you slowly gave up at the thought of doing so, feeling almost defeated.

As you turned to head back to your cabin, you spotted the Hermes counselor exiting his. You called out his name, watching his back stiffen before he turned to you. You ignored the odd behavior and recalled, “I’m free now if you’re down to hang out.”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really busy right now.”

“Uhm, well, I guess I’ll just meet you at our spot whenever you’re done then?” you suggested. You and Luke fell into a routine of star-gazing every night.

Laying under the dark sky that painted your whole horizon often made you feel small. But something about that was so calming, especially considering most of the time, you were suffocated by the weight and duties of being a Demigod. You wondered if it was the moment or if it was Luke’ presence that aided your momentary peace.

“I really, really can’t tonight, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you around?” you replied, watching as Luke fidgeted and gulped while attempting to look normal. It was futile, really, because being best friends meant you could sense when the slightest thing was even off. He nodded, and you retreated to your cabin with thoughts swirling in your head.

Then came the next few torturous and confusing days. For the last two years, Luke would always approach you - almost daily, and vice versa. Being best friends with Luke has been wonderful. Every day together felt like a blessing.

Now, it seemed almost like he was avoiding you. He would find a new excuse whenever you approached. He wouldn’t even look in your direction. Yesterday, you made eye contact with him, and he turned away abruptly, facing his back towards you.

You had enough after day three. You went to your cabin after dinner and reached under your bed with one hand. You did not want to, but this would perhaps be your first-ever letter of anguish about Luke Castellan.

The box…where is the box?

You peered under your bed, mouth hanging open when your eyes could not spot it either. You looked up and around, hoping maybe you had misplaced it somewhere, even though part of you knew you had put it under your bed. You have always done so.

“Hey, have you seen a turquoise box?” you asked your sister as she walked by.

“Oh, the rectangle one, about this big?” your sister reconfirmed, using her hand to show you the size she indicated.

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I gave it to Luke.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was cleaning the cabin three days ago, accidentally knocked it over and saw letters addressed to him. He was right by the door, so I thought maybe I should just deliver them to him.”

Blood drained from your face, and your heart plummeted. Anything else your sister seemed to be talking about started sounding like murmurs, and you could not focus on a word she was saying. Your worst nightmare seemed to have arrived. Somehow, your friendship with him had ended without you knowing. No wonder he has been avoiding you these past few days. He has read them all.

“I need to go,” you quickly muttered, storming out of your cabin. You could feel your body slightly shaking from the panic. No amount of Demigod training had prepared you for moments like these. Then you saw Luke walking over you…with the box in his hands. You took a deep breath and practically forced your voice box to work.

“Listen, Luke—”

“I didn’t think you’d buy birthday gifts that early, Y/N,” he interrupted.

“What?” you questioned and observed the sweet smile gracing his Adonis-like face.

“This?” he gestured to the box. “Your sister gave it to me and said it was from you. Though I thought I should give it back ‘cause it’s not my birthday yet, you might have wanted to give it to me yourself.”

“Oh…” it was the only thing you could utter as it dawned on you what he had perceived the situation as. “Wait, so you haven’t opened it?” you clarified.

“Nope.”

“...So we’re ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. As you scrunch your eyebrows, you could see how his fingers fidget somewhat, almost as if he could tell you would bring his odd behavior up.

“You’ve been acting really odd the last few days, Luke. It had me worried. I thought I did something wrong. It seems like you were avoiding me.”

“I was just really busy with counselor duties,” he dismissed it. However, something about it made you a bit hesitant to believe his words. You did it anyway, nevertheless. You blamed it on your stupid heart.

“Yeah, but—” you stopped, not wanting to stir anything. “Ok then, I’m going to put this away, but I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe we can finally not rain check again?” You hated how hopeful you sounded. You’re glad that the sun had set a few minutes ago, blessing you with enough degree of darkness to hide your facial expressions from being as evident as they would be in daylight.

“Of course, I’ll see you later, Y/N,” despite the dark and only dim lights from nearby, you noticed there was something different about him. Luke was wearing a nervous smile, almost sheepish like a schoolboy. There was a glimmer of amazement in his eyes like he was in disbelief. Though it was definitely overpowered by a glaring degree of warmth. He was looking at you like all those writers have written down in the books you have read before - something along the lines of adoration and love.

You shook those thoughts away again, refusing to somehow fool yourself into believing he could reciprocate those feelings.

“Yeah, see you,” you muttered, hand gripping tightly on the box as you took it from his hold. As soon as you reached your cabin, you opened the box to peer inside. You immediately sighed in relief upon seeing the copious amount of letters with your handwriting on them, all with Luke’s name on the front.

However, your eyes landed on one unfamiliar one. It had your name on it, written in a familiar wonky handwriting that you have always found endearing.

You sat on your bed, taking the letter out delicately, almost in disbelief. Then, dread overtook any other emotion. Was this Luke’s way of letting you down easy? By pretending to not have read any of your letters and rejecting you through the form that you express your love to him? — you had to physically shake your head at that thought.

You took the letter out of its envelope and started reading: 

‘Dear Y/N,

This is probably the 40th time I tried writing this letter. It feels impossible to try and convey everything onto one piece of paper.

You deserve someone to at least view you as their muse rather than always being the writer. 

Hence why, for the past few days, I had to physically drag myself away from you every time you tried approaching me because I knew if I didn’t, I would just end up spilling my feelings out right then. I knew if I even looked at you, I would have just abandoned this letter idea and run to you. You should have seen me yesterday. When we made eye contact, I had to turn away from you because having the knowledge of you liking me back was enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. I was a flustered mess from just that eye contact.

I doubt my words could rival what you have written about me. You once wrote how it hurts to love someone this much and to always be the poet but never the poem. Well, I’d like to thank you for making me your poems. However, now it is your turn. Allow me to be your poet.

You occupy my mind like it’s your castle. If I had to name everything I love about you, this letter would never end. But for starters, here are some of the first times:

The first time Chiron introduced you to the Hermes cabin, I could not take my eyes off you. Chris had to nudge me away. Just from that alone, a part of me knew I was in trouble. I think I came to the conclusion that I did not want to hold anybody else’s hand after just shaking yours.

2.5 years back during a campfire in June, even when the fire had died and the air grew cold, our voices still filled the air. Conversations just flow when I am with you. I remember never wanting that moment to end. Then you started talking about constellations and told me about the ones above us. Right there and then was the first time I had the urge to kiss you, and to show you that I was just as obsessed with you as you were with stars.

The first time I realized I was in love with you was while coming back from a quest 2 years ago. I remember feeling so numb coming back. The world almost seemed monotone, and I wondered for a second, what if I had made one wrong move? Just as I returned to camp, you bolted and hugged me. Somehow, it felt like I had just taken my first bit of fresh air after drowning for so long. I vividly recall shutting my eyes as I hugged you back because I felt like I was finally home. I remember never wanting to be away or out of your hold as others approached and rushed to get me into the infirmary for checkups.

It was only when I was lying on the infirmary bed that it hit me like a train that lost control. A large proportion of why I fought so hard was to come back to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and my place of solace and peace. Then came the realization that I was in love with you. I remember everybody else’s voice drowning out as I focused on that thought. It was strangely calming, as if my heart had known all along but was waiting for my head to catch up. Then I remember just smiling as I looked at the ceiling, unafraid of the new feeling.

Last year, the day we went on a quest together lapsed with Valentine’s Day. Every moment felt extra sweet. Us sitting on the train, staring outside the window together like a couple going on a trip. My mind savoured the small things like you falling asleep on my shoulder with my coat around you and us holding hands as we walked through the crowd to not get lost among couples - which I like to imagine that others had thought we were one as well. It was the first time I allowed myself to pretend this is how it would feel like if you were mine and how our lives together would be if we were not Demigods.

I thought for sure you would have realized something by the way I was staring and acting around you that I was irrevocably in love with you. After reading your letters, I realized that you did see it. But you refused to believe that I could ever be in love with you. Well, I hope my letters will reverse all your doubts, because Y/N, it is so easy to fall in love with you. 

In fact, the world I built up in my head during last year’s quest had consumed my thoughts enough to make me frown at the idea of returning to camp, where it would not just be the two of us anymore. Loving you has never been something I was afraid of. Loving you has been an honour every single day, even if you never knew of it. 

It’s also somewhat funny that I was heavily lovesick while you were lovelorn. But I promise, Y/N, that from this second on, I intend to make you know that you are loved and that I am so deeply in love with you.

Again, I never intended for you to wait for three days, but I ended up throwing away every letter I started because I felt like none had suffice. I didn’t want to mess it up and give you something less than you deserved. I wanted to do something nice for you. I promise I’ll make it up for those three days if you allow me to. But one chance is all I need.

If you are willing to give me that chance, you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Luke Castellan’

Upon reading his last words, you immediately left your cabin with the letter in hand. You jogged to the spot where the two of you would always meet to stargaze together. Almost instantly, you saw his tall figure under the moonlight. As if he could sense your presence, the Hermes boy turned around and gave you a sweet smile.

“You meant it?” you asked as you raised the letter up, slowly approaching him.

“Every single word, including all the unspoken ones I intend on telling you from now on,” the way he said it felt like he was swearing it on his own heart. “In fact, I would have written more down, but I knew I was keeping you waiting for too long,” he explained as you stopped right before him.

Something about this moment felt cathartic. Three years of dancing around unspoken words and yearning led to this moment. Luke grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckle. You peered up at him, and it was then that you finally accepted what his looks meant: he was in love with you, and there was no doubt about that. There was no more denial on your end that Luke Castellan was enamored with you.

“Will you let me be your poet, Y/N?” he breathlessly referenced the words you and him had both previously written like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime.

“Of course,” you answered almost without hesitation, watching his eyes soften even more, if possible.

“Is it ok if I ask you another question?” he asked again, his other hand caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” Your face flushed as you saw his brown eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t say anything. You’ve written down way too many words in the past three years. You decided actions would speak louder in this case. So you pulled Luke down by his camp necklace, hands gripping the beads on it as you tiptoed up to reach his lips. 

Luke physically melted as he brought one hand to your waist to hold you up as he leaned down from the height difference. Everything Luke had imagined before could not match the kiss he was finally sharing with you - the kiss that seemed to seal his lips into a spell that would forever leave them unable to belong to anyone else. It felt like heaven and hell combined because he knew that this was going to ruin him forever, and every second he spent with his eyes shut would be one where he had this feeling and moment sown behind his eyelids. 

You had the same line of thoughts. The wait was long, but you felt like it was worth it. Under the stars, you may feel small. But standing there next to Luke, you finally realize it doesn’t matter. Because he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were his sun, moon, and everything in between - no constellations could ever measure to you.

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

masterlist

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[httpdwaekki]

movie night | s.c. ft b.c.

summary: after a rough day all you wanted was a movie night with your favorite boys, but when they forget it feels like you’re world is crumbling.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, fem!reader, gendered terms of endearment (sweet girl, baby girl, etc.), crying, meltdown.

a/n: i kinda got lost in the sauce w this one but week three wooo!!! don’t forget to check out @straykeedz versions!!! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

(i tense switch alot during this, i wrote it half asleep most of the time, i’ll edit it eventually lmao)

my library | bee’s vers | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

you were having a terrible day, nothing was going right and the only thing keeping you from completely breaking down was the movie night you had planned with your boyfriends.

8 o’clock came and you were all set up in your living room with snacks, blankets and of course wolf chan and dwaekki. you were sat on the couch, barely containing your excitement for the night ahead.

but then 8:15 came and you were still sat there alone, and then 8:20 you decided to send them a gentle reminder.

from sweet girl <3:

hi my loves, i’m all set up for movie night whenever you guys are ready 🖤

but 8:30 rolled around and then 9:00 and by that point you had sent several texts

from sweet girl <3:

i’m assuming you guys are still at the studio, just let me know when you’re on your way! love you guys 🖤

it’s getting kinda late, i hope everything’s okay, love you both very much 🖤🖤

i hope everything’s okay, but it’s getting late so i’m heading to bed, we can do movie night another night, goodnight my loves

now it’s 10:00, you had a terrible day and now the one thing you were looking forward to fell through, you were defeated. at your last texts you moped into your room needing nothing more than your warm bed and comfort movie.

luckily you had already put the snacks away after an hour of waiting realizing they probably forgot. once cozy in bed, you put monsters inc on your tv and pulled the two stuffies to your chest.

it was at this point the realization of what happened hit and you couldn’t stop the breakdown that followed. tears streaming down your face, breathing terribly uneven, and incoherent words falling from your mouth.

“they- they forgot about me.” you whimpered, hugging the plushies impossibly closer to you. the hoodie from changbin that usually helps calm you down, was now just a painful reminder of the two missing people.

you ripped the article of clothing off in an attempt to calm yourself, throwing it across the room. you settled back into the soft mattress, placing the gray and pink plushes to the side, opting for your soft blanket to calm yourself.

luckily after a few minutes your comfort movie had worked it’s magic and you felt yourself relax enough to finally fall into dreamland, tears drying against your skin as you slept.

unbeknownst to you, your boys were scrambling 15 minutes away in the studio. the producers had a habit of locking up their phones during their working hours to limit distractions but unfortunately that caused them to also forget about the plans they made with their favorite girl.

“oh fuck, hyung we gotta go, like now.” changbin shot up out of his chair once he realized the time. they were supposed to be at your apartment 2 hours ago to start movie night. “huh? what, what happened, what’s wrong?” trying to figure out what could’ve pulled such a reaction from the younger boy.

“look at the time,” he points to the time to emphasize his statement. “oh fuck,” the older of the two’s eyes goes as wide a saucers, whipping his head to the former. “we were supposed to be there 2 hours ago.” bin nods his head before moving to shut everything down.

“okay, okay, relax bin, let me save everything, you pack everything up then we can leave, okay?” changbin nods, realizing he’s right, this will all be completely in vain if they lost everything they were working on.

in the midst of gathering their items, changbin finally looks at his phone where he finds all the messages you sent, the last one being sent 15 minutes ago. he quickly texts out a response, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

from binbin <3:

princess we’re so so sorry, we got caught up in work, we’re packing and heading to you now. we love you so so much baby. 🩷🩷

he puts his nail in his mouth, gnawing on it anxiously as his leg shakes. after saving all the files and shutting everything down, chan turns back to find a very anxious changbin staring at his phone.

he makes his way next to him, placing his hand on the shaking leg. “hey, what’s going on?” he asks gently. changbin looks up, unshed tears line his soft eyes. “she texted us 11 times.” his breathes, shaking his head, showing him the phone screen.

“and we ignored every single one of them. what if she was hurt? what if something happened? we would’ve never known” he rambles, sending himself further into a spiral.

“hey, hey,” he gently grabs the younger’s cheek, “she’s safe, she’s home in bed asleep,” his thumb slowly stroking his cheek, soothing the anxious man. “we’re going to her now, everything will be okay, okay?” bin nods his head, closing his eyes, letting a stray tear or two run down his cheek.

chan wipes the tears before placing a soft, loving kiss to his temple. “okay, let’s go see our girl.” chan smiles, grabbing his hand pulling him up with him.

once they made it to your apartment (not without breaking a few traffic laws), they let themselves in with the spare key you made them. quickly discarding their shoes, practically running to your room but not without missing the wrapped up snacks in your kitchen or the discarded blanket pile on your couch.

changbin pauses, guilt clutching his heart as he sees your discarded preparations. “come on.” chan quietly ushers, pointing to your room with a quick movement of his head. bin is quick to follow, needing to see you as soon as possible.

chan opens your door, finding a sleeping lump in the middle of your bed and none other than monsters inc playing softly on the screen. that alone told them everything they needed to know but then the thrown hoodie on the floor and two plushies laying next to you instead of clutched to your chest?

they knew they messed up, big time. bin went to rush to you, to wake you up and apologize profusely but chan stops him. “hold on, you might scare her.” bin nods understanding that even though he means well, you were in a very fragile mental state.

the older man carefully sits on the side of your bed, placing a hand to your shoulder. it was only then did he catch a glimpse of the tears stains dried to your chubby cheeks. his breath hitches, causing changbin to look after, catching sight of the same thing, his eyes filling with tears once more.

chan holds out his hand to give him a quick squeeze and a kiss before turning back to the problem at hand. he lays his chin on your shoulder, softly rubbing your arm to coax you awake.

“sweet girl,” he whispers, placing kisses to your shoulder, trying to wake you up as softly as possible. “wake up baby girl.” you slowly come back to consciousness, realizing that there was someone touching you.

you would have been scared if you didn’t recognize the familiar aussie voice. chan sits back as he feels you stir, bin coming to sit beside him, placing a hand to your thigh.. you turn to find your boys looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

you feel the familiar sting behind your eyes but you quickly rub your eyes, masking your tears. “hi” your voice quiet, sleep lacing your voice. “hi sweetheart.” the aussie coos, “hi bunny.” bin whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs soothing him you.

“we’re sorry baby, we completely lost track of time, and we put our phones away so we didn’t see you texted, we’re just- really sorry bubba.” you nod, willing your tears away before you spoke.

“it’s okay, i understand.” you say lowly, fidgeting with the soft material to keep your composure. but try as you might the two boys knew you all too well.

“no it’s not,” bin finally speaks, causing you to catch a glimpse of him. two streaks shine on his soft cheeks against the glow of the tv, caught your eye. you sit up, moving chan, attempting to reach changbin.

“it’s not okay, we knew we had plans with you today, and not only did we miss it, we ignored you-” you cut him off with a kiss, your hand coming to wipe the wet streaks away. you pull away, your own tears making their way down your chubby cheeks.

“i am upset, but i’m not mad. i just had a bad day and this was the one thing i was looking forward to and it was just the final straw.” pause, sniffling as chan grabs the hand still in your lap.

“i was inconsolable and your hoodie and the stuffies just felt like a reminder of my bad day.” you look down, your hand falling from the soft man’s cheek to your lap, where he grabs your hand. you hear a sniffle, cause your head to shoot up where you find them both with wet streaks on their cheeks.

your lip wobbles as you see your boys upset, you shake your head frantically. before you can even open your mouth, chan shakes his head before moving behind you, pulling you to his chest. binnie moves to sit in chan’s previous position, placing a soothing hand on your thigh.

“do not apologize, you did nothing wrong, us being upset or missing movie night is not your fault, nor is it your problem to fix.” he whispers in your ear, rubbing your soft tummy. your lip wobbles again, dropping your head into your hands as you sob.

bin moves to wrap his arms around you, bringing you to him as best he could with you against chan. they knew you were upset and the best thing for you was to let you cry it out as heart wrenching as your sobs are.

they just hold you as you calm down, binnie rubbing your back, placing kisses to your temple. chan rubbing your tummy, placing kisses to your shoulder.

you pull away once you feel calm enough, wiping your tears as you sniffle. “thank you, both of you, i love you both more than you know.” you give bin a kiss first before turning around as best you could, doing the same to chan.

“come on, let’s get you to sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning, sweet girl, okay?” he pats your tummy, waiting for you to nod your head before moving the blankets to give you space in the middle of the bed. you carefully move over, shivering as you land on the cold side of the mattress.

both boys get up, chan rounding the bed to get to the other side while binnie goes to grab his discarded hoodie. he makes it back to your side as chan sits on the edge of the bed.

“sit it up for me quick bunny. “ he says, kneeling on the bed, scrunching the fabric. you sit up, lifting your arms so he can slip the familiar fabric over your head. once you slide your hands through the sleeves, the hood covering a part of your face.

you give him a cheesy smile before shooting out to wrap your arms around him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, placing a big kiss to your hood covered head. “mwah!” he plops down next to me, getting comfy under the blankets.

you adjust the hoodie a bit before leaning against the plush pillows. chan lifts up the two stuffies, placing them to your chest, wrapping your arm around them. you smile once again, rolling over to place a big kiss on his cheek.

once you settle back into the bed, they both wrap their arms around you, making you feel safe and secure. “good night bubba, we love you,” chan whispers in your ear before placing a loving kiss to your soft cheek. “so so much bunny.” binnie finishes, placing a kiss to your other cheek.

you melt right into their arms. you get comfortable, turning on your side to face binnie, laying your head on his chest, grabbing chan’s arm to stay around you. “i love you both too, more than you know.” you mumble, placing a kiss to bin’s pec and chan’s hand.

you all melt into each other, relaxing slowly as sleep welcomes you, the soft sounds of monsters inc playing as you all lay peacefully in each other’s arms.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Moments in Time - Luke Hughes Edition

Word Count - 3000

Summary - The eight times Luke Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note - Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Quinn Hughes Edition. Jack Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas.

Main Masterlist

Luke couldn't care less about wanting a ring camera. Both of his brothers had them and he really didn’t care. Now since he moved out of Jack’s apartment and into yours it’s a different story. He no longer has a nice fancy lobby with a mailroom. When a package comes it comes to his doorstep. This year Luke has been stepping up his fashion game (his words not yours) and buying some new items for his closet. Now to Luke, a $300 shirt might not seem like a lot but to a normal human being it was. 

Luke wasn’t concerned about packages being taken form your doorstep until you told him about your neighbor. When you first moved into your apartment a few years ago, your neighbor warned you about how some of his packages had been stolen and to be care. Literally nothing has happened in the three years you’ve had your apartment but you still did mention it to Luke. Once Luke heard about how packages were taken (even though none of them were yours) he was texting his brothers asking for a link to the one they had. Now you, on the other hand, wanted a ring camera because Quinn and Jack’s girlfriends were telling you how much fun it is to mess with the boys on the ring camera. So you decided you kind of wanted to join the fun and get one.The ring camera was totally worth it to both of you within six months with just all the ‘little mundane moments’ it caught on camera. 

Don’t forget the brownie bark!

Luke knew you were leaving to go to the store and instead of sending you a simple text, his lazy ass decided to yell at you through the ring. It scared the shit out of all of a sudden you heard Luke’s voice but knew he was on his way to the gym. 

“BABY! DON’T forget my brownie bark at the store! Please!” 

Once you registered that it was in fact Luke’s voice and it was coming from the ring camera you turned your body towards the camera. 

“What do you mean?? You still have all of that moose tracks dairy free ice cream I brought you because “I can’t do dairy during the season’ plus all those pretzels and everything else???” A small sigh leaving your lips before Luke can even reply because you already know what he’s going to say.

“Yeah but I’m not in the mood for those things anymore… maybe next week but this week I want the brownie bark you get from Costco.” he softly whined as he contonied to beg for his snack.

“Fine! But listen Hughes you have to finish this snack before I buy anything else because your literally taking up some much cabinet space and we have a small kitchen.”

“Deal.” he immediately and excitingly says before he rushes a goodbye and leaves the ring app. A soft sigh leaves your mouth as you head down the hallway to the elevator to go to the store

2.I hate you right now

Okay you didn’t really hate Luke you were just upset that he happened to have ordered a new gaming chair which came in the most awkward huge sized box. He told you he ordered it three weeks ago and it should be here before he has to go on his seven day west coast roadie. Of course it wasn’t, you dropped him off an hour ago and decided to get some errands done before returning home. Of course, it was just your luck that when you got home there would be a gigantic probably 100 lb perfectly cubed box that was definitely Luke’s new gaming chair. Deciding to go inside and set your things down and send Luke a text before dealing with the box.

Lukeyboo:

Guess what was here when i got home 🙄🙄

My love:

Is it my chair?? 👀

Lukeyboo:

Yes 

And its a fucking huge box by the way I don’t know how I’m gonna lift it. 

Gonna go try to attempt now

By the time you made it back to the hallway of your apartment building Luke greeted you on the ring camera. “Hi baby, I’m here for emotional support.” he says teasingly and even though you can’t see him you know he has a huge smile on his face. Making it a point to make an annoyed face at the camera, making sure he knows how the universe seemed to time this perfectly for you. Looking down you decide that it’s probably easiest to shuffle the box inside your apartment. Trying to move the box an inch but it doesn’t budge. 

“Baby try using your legs not your arms.” Luke comments

“Oh wow. Why didn’t I think of that?” you say in a duh tone.

“Sorry I’ll stop mansplaining.” Immediately apologizing for trying to tell you how to move the box. Finally your able to move it a little and Luke cheers as a result. But then of course you continue to struggle for the next ten minutes. 

“You know I really hate you right now.” you say loud enough for the ring to pick it up. 

“I love and appreciate you too.” he responds without a second thought knowing you're just annoyed because of how oddly shaped the box is and Luke would have already had it in spare bedroom by now. “If it makes you feel better I think your hot when you're flustered” he admits.

“Hmmm” is the only response your willing to give him. Finally after what feels like forever but is probably only 3 minutes you get it in the door. Luke cheers through the camera. “Oh and I hope you know it’s staying right but the front door for you when you get home.” 

Luke lets out a chuckle as he admits “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Love you, miss you already baby.”

“Ugh I love you too, text me when you land.”

“Always” and he stays on the app until he hears you close the apartment door. 

3. Why are you acting like this as adults?

One thing that you loved about Luke was how truly close he was with his brothers. It really did make you happy that he was able to live his dream of playing on the same team as his older brother Jack. But being brothers even if both were in their early twenties they still acted like brothers. They were both stubborn as could be and competitive with each other. At times it can be cute, but even Nico told on one roadie they had to ban the brothers from playing soccer before their game because their fighting became too much.  

So it was no shocker when you were in the kitchen in the middle of cooking dinner in your apartment, and heard both the boys yelling as they were coming down the hallway. It’s one thing to hear Jack because he is naturally a louder person, but when you heard Luke also raising his voice and some thudding of the walls you decided to check the ring camera. Honestly, you weren’t sure to be surprised by their behavior of straight up wrestling in your tiny little narrow hallway apartment or a little disappointed in yourself that you were surprised by their behavior. 

Since the hallway was so narrow, you really didn't want one of them to accidentally get injured, even if it was minor due to them being idiots. Especially since it wouldn’t be hard to knock your head on the wall and accidentally get a concussion and then they would be out for at least a game. So you decided to yell at them through the camera to make them stop. “Boys I know that isn’t the Hughes brothers being idiots wrestling like some children?!” 

Immediately the noises stop and you smile to yourself. Knowing your boyfriend you knew that he was probably embarrassed but your suspensions were confirmed when you heard him say “sorry baby” before Jack muttered out his own apologies. 

But then within a few seconds you heard another thud and you sighed as you clicked the speak button on your phone. “That better not be you all again, now knock it off or I swear I will treat you like my nephews and take video games away for the night.” Honestly, you didn’t count it but you're pretty sure within a minute the boys were inside, and in the kitchen kissing up to you knowing damn well you would take the video games away.

4. Take Out

Luke was on one of those rare long roadies that was closer to a week and two time zones away rather than a quick 72 hours down the east coast. All roadies were hard, but somehow the ones that were in different time zones and longer than an extended weekend felt more real. It was almost like if he was gone for the 2 days it didn’t matter, but when it was hitting the fourth day of his roadie missing Luke turned into what felt like longing for him. Craving anything that would help you feel closer to Luke, on your way home that night you picked up pizza from his favorite place. Lately you’ve been leaving little messages occasionally for him when he’s away. Since missing him felt like it was slowly consuming you, you couldn’t help but leave one on your way inside your apartment. 

“Hi Lukey, we are at the halfway mark of this roadie. I miss you so much, I got the pizza from that place you like, just like you like it. With all the papers, and even olives, even though I hate olives, picking them off might make it seem like your home. Love you, good luck tonight against the Kings.”

When Luke watched that video he texted you that he also missed you and he loved you. That was the first time on a roadie in his entire life he ever wished he was home with you instead of where he was.

5. It was your turn Luke!

Finally getting home after a long day at work and walking into your apartment, sighing with content. After changing out of your work clothes into some sweats, you decide you should start dinner before you take a shower and get ready for Luke’s home game tonight. But as you walk into the kitchen you see in the corner the trash overflowing. Immediately you find yourself annoyed at Luke because he promised he would take it out before he left and it was not only overflowing but also started to smell. Deciding ultimately that you need to take the trash out before you make yourself a quick dinner. 

As you tie up the bag and carry it to the front door, throw on some of Luke’s crocs by the door since you're only going outside for two minutes to deal with the trash. Still very annoyed at Luke you can’t help but ring the doorbell so he gets a notification. 

“LUKE YOU PROMISED. Remember how you said you’d do it before you left but of course you forgot again.” Sighing again you say in a calmer but still very annoyed voice “it’s fine cause I’m doing now but it made the whole kitchen smell, Lukey. I might be late to the game cause I’m gonna burn a candle in the kitchen now” Finally walking away to deal with the trash, the clip ends because ‘movement in front of camera has ended.’

Luke sees the notification while he’s walking into the stadium and his arrival photos are ruined because he’s all red and blushy because you scolded him for forgetting about the trash again. Turns out, you do make it to the game but after puck drop. Luke sees you make your way to your normal seat, always claiming the game didn’t feel as real in the WAGs suite. He happened to skate past your seat to get ready for a power play, when you saw him. He mouths “I’m sorry” as he takes his hand to chest to sign in ASL as well, something that both of you started using while he’s playing. He signs a quick “I love you” before the whistle blows and he’s focused back on the game.

6. First Roadie far away

This wasn’t his first roadie by any means, Luke has been playing hockey his entire life. He has gone on countless roadies from his USA Hockey days to UMitch, hell even his rookie year. But this was the first roadie far away enough that you couldn’t travel to his game since you started living together. This gave the idea of roadies a whole new light. He suddenly wasn’t excited to travel to a new city, play his favorite game and explore a new city, not when you were home in Hoboken. He can’t help himself from turning around and saying goodbye in the camera. Watching it later you could tell that he was truly sad and not pretending as a joke. Sniffling with his suitcase behind him dressed in a nice suit. 

“I love you sweetie, I’ll call you when I land. I kinda don’t wanna go… DON’T tell anyone that!” He signs I love you with his right hand. He starts to walk away and you expect the camera to cut out, but then he comes running back. He gets super close to the camera, like you can really just see one eye, his nose and mouth. “BABY! Please don’t kill the plants! I know you think you’ve done really good this time keeping them alive this long. But the truth is I’ve been watering them for you because I didn’t wanna see you cry after killing another African Violet. Which also I googled and it’s almost impossible to do so your kind of the best at being the killer of plants. Okay gotta go before I’m late I love you.”

7. I’ll buy you a new cupcake 

Luke decided as a treat for himself that he would get himself just one cupcake from both of your favorite bakeries. There was only one left from the 6 pack you had in the fridge from last week.  It was his treat to himself for not having any other cheat meals this week, which is shocking because as you know that boy is ALWAYS eating! Luke also needed to go to the dry cleaners before they closed in 20 minutes. Deciding that he didn’t wanna wait until he got home he ate it on his way out the door. 

Of course Lukes luck, the movement in front of the ring was enough for a notification to be sent out. Immediately as Luke is still chewing the cupcake, your voice comes blaring from the speaker. 

“LUKE WARREN HUGHES! I KNOW you’re not eating the last cupcake. That you SAID WE’D SHARE WHEN I GOT HOME TONIGHT!” Okay so Luke forgot the other day you wanted to eat it and he begged you not to and that you would share it today, whoops. 

“I promise I will buy you some on my way home, I’m sorry baby” Just a mumble of acknowledgement was the only thing that left your mouth. 

One week later:

Turns out the same thing happened, Luke and you promised that if both of you didn’t have any cheat meals and stayed to your health routine. Both of you could share the last cupcake. Well this time it was you that ate the cupcake. Luke was very much a pouty mess about it when he walked into the kitchen and saw the container on top of the trash can. Hearing your full name in one breath out of Luke’s mouth, you winced realizing what happened. Except instead of angry Luke comes to you on the couch, face full of pout, and puppy eyes truly sad that he couldn’t have the treat he was looking forward to for days because you ate it with your lunch this afternoon. 

“I’m sorry Lukey” opening your opens and immediately he flops into them. 

“I really wanted it!” he pouted.

“I know. I am sorry I’ll buy you more tomorrow okay.” Luke only nodded his head yes as he dug himself deeper into your embrace as one hand started caressing his back, the other digging your fingers into his curls lightly scratching. 

8. Next time I’ll wait

It’s a Monday afternoon and you’ve been waiting all weekend for a new pair of shoes to be delivered. They were a pair of limited edition converse and you were excited to get them in before you traveled to Europe for the Stadium Series that opened your boyfriend’s NHL season. Naturally every little alert you get from the ring app your checking. Most of them have just been neighbors walking past to get to their own apartments. But it still doesn’t stop you form opening the notification you just got. 

Now what you weren’t expecting to see was but also wasn’t surprised to see. Is Luke running outside of the apartment with a pot that’s on fire because he accidentally set something on fire while cooking. The embarrassment is clear on his face when he comes back a minute later with no pot in sight, assuming he left it outside in the leftover snow from a few days ago. Thinking he got away with his cooking disaster until he makes direct eye contact with the ring camera and suddenly remembers its existence. 

He decides to just rip the bandaid off and looks directly into the camera as he says “we're out of eggs by the way.”

Deciding to just talk to Luke now you press the speak button and with a light chuckle you add “well and a new pan since I no longer see it. I hope it wasn’t the one that I love.” 

Luke suddenly looks like a deer in headlights, obviously he wasn’t expecting you to be watching him run out of the apartment with a pan on fire. “Uhhh I’ll buy you a whole new set, the ones you have saved on amazon, the colored ones!” 

“Okay. baby next time can you wait 5 minutes until I’m home” 

A giant sigh leaves Luke’s lips as his face starts to form his famous pout, “Yeah okay”

[notjoelmiller]

he's yours

MDNI

Ghost has little to give. He comes from little and has made little of himself. He’s a soldier before he is a man. More machine than heart.

What he does have to give is his loyalty. It’s the only thing he’s been able to give and take in a very long time.

“You saved my ass,” you say incredulously after Simon takes out a soldier, taller than him, who had nearly strangled you.

You extend your hand, Simon takes it.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he says as you shake on it, your blood mixing with his through your open wounds, gained in the gruesome fight which is still raging around you.

“Thanks,” you say.

Simon points it out, the bloody exchange between you two that takes nothing– words that could easily be an empty promise –and turns it into something greater.

“A blood pact,” you muse.

Maybe it was a mistake not to nip it in the bud then and there, not realizing the gravity of what you’ve done. He thought you knew– knew that the gashes on your hands, your bloods mixing as you grasped each other, shaking hands just once –meant something. 

That’s alright. You’ll learn eventually that “always” means always.

His loyalty doesn’t go unnoticed. Soap and Gaz tease Simon. They say he's whipped as he follows you around day in and day out. Price starts calling him your dog, as though that’s the only way to explain Simon’s dedication. The rest of the team– they just don’t understand. You never tire of it, though, and Simon soon learns that the way you go quiet when they tease him isn’t out of embarrassment but rather… something else.

This something is hunger.

He fucks you with a hand in your hair, his mouth on your skin. In his bed. Your bed. The showers. Anywhere you let him have you.

“I’m yours,” he grunts in your ears. “I’m yours forever, love.”

You retire after three years of serving side-by-side with Simon. He follows you into domesticity, building a home with you– for you. It’s bliss. It’s safe. But after some time off of the field, it’s too quiet. Too suffocating. You try leaving him. You tell him plainly, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Simon doesn’t take it well. Well, actually, he doesn’t take it at all. He tells you no.

For two hours straight, you tell him that it’s over. You pack his things, but he keeps saying no. That it isn’t over. That he won’t leave you. That he’ll never leave you. He’s yours and always has been and always will be.

Remember the pact?

You’re so shocked that you give up on it. That afternoon becomes a story. Remember when you tried to break up with me? Absolutely bollocks that was…

No, Simon Riley won’t leave you, not until he’s lying cold and still, under six feet of dirt. Though, it’s not like he hasn’t gotten himself out of that same situation before.

***

a/n: a little drabble. i wrote this quicker than everything else on this blog and did not give it the editing it deserves, but pls enjoy.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: established relationship, Eddie is an emotionally constipated lil guy who's scared of his own feelings, adorable nervous energy, so much fluff its gross

AN: BRUV i wrote this in about a half hour ago and now its up and i BARELY edited this so please be gentle! I love you guys, have the best weekend!

I can’t fucking say it.

Eddie has been pacing back and forth in his room for the past 45 fucking minutes.

He’s tried saying it looking in the mirror, looking at his feet, hell, he even tried staring out the fucking window.

Nothing.

He can think it—that’s the easy part. Those three little words play in his head like a god damned broken record.

When he’s not around you, he’s thinking it. When he’s just left you, or on his way to you, he can feel it on the tip of his tongue.

Oh, but when he’s with you? It’s like a big flashing neon fucking sign buzzing in his brain:

EDDIE MUNSON LOVES HIS GIRL.

It should be easy, no? To look you into your dreamy eyes and tell you.

Let’s try this again.

Eddie bounced back and forth on each foot, shaking the nerves from his hands. “C’mon, Munson. Don’t be a chicken shit…”

He let out a few quick breaths. “Okay, okay…”

Eddie’s brain is screaming at him. Telling him to say the fucking words he’s been thinking and feeling for the past 4 months.

Really the past 3 years he’s knowns you, but that’s neither here nor there.

He feels out of breath just sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I can’t fucking say it, holy hell.” Eddie scrubs his face, feeling like a complete coward.

Always running from what scares him.

He heard the door of the trailer open, and the familiar chime of your keychain follow.

“Eds? I’m back! and I got you a surprise!”

Whatever nerves he was feeling vanished. You’re the most calming presence Eddie’s ever met. Like…a warm blanket. A cup of tea on a rainy day. Lover's lake, right as the sun was starting to rise.

Magical. Healing. Golden.

You were everything to him, and he couldn’t even fucking tell you.

“Babe?” You called again, looking for him.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, in here, sweetheart.” He stands quickly. Drying his sweaty palms on his pants.

You round the corner into his room, and Eddie swears you get more beautiful every time he sees you. You smile at him, “Hey, handsome.”

“There’s my pretty girl.” He says without a second thought. “You and Buckley have fun at the mall?”

Eddie pulls you into him completely, and you melt. He’s so sturdy and strong but so, so gentle with you. You inhale him, he inhales you.

Home.

“I did, Robin keeps me from flying too close to the sun,” you laugh. “I did, however, get you a little something.”

Eddie pulls back, looking at you. “What? Why?”

You’re beaming up at him, “‘Cause I love you, ya silly goose.” You bend down, and grab the bag at your feet. “Here, opening it!”

Eddie doesn’t even have time to process how easily you’d say it.

You’ve never once pressured him—never made a big thing about saying it. It came with no strings when you said it the first time.

You’d spent the day with him, doing nothing particularly important. These were Eddie’s favorite. It’s just him and his girl, no sharing you with Robin or Dustin or any of those other gremlins.

You had an early shift the next day, so you kissed him goodbye, and grabbed your bag. Eddie kissed you once for every step you took toward the door.

“Baby, nooooo,” he whined. “I’ll let you sleep, sweetheart. No funny business, scouts honor.”

You laughed, “Oh, you were Boy Scout?”

Eddie shifted his feet, “I could’ve been.”

You kissed him deeply at the front door, “I’ll be back before you know it."

“Fine, fine,” he said dramatically. “I’ll just be here…alone…wallowing in my sorrows.” Eddie flopped back and fell backwards over the couch.

Your giggle echoed off the walls of the trailer. “I love you! I’ll see you in the morning!”

The door shut behind you, and Eddie shot up like a rocket, and stiff as a board.

You love him.

You said you loved him.

And he didn’t say it back.

It’s haunted him since.

Eddie took the bag from your hands, and pulled you gently to follow him. You sat down together on the edge of his bed.

You spoke to him as he opened it, “Okay, if you don’t like them, just be nice because it took me 40 minutes to decide between two sets and this one spoke to me and I wanted—“

“Honey, honey.” Eddie chuckled. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s perfect." He tapped your nose gently, "‘Cause it’s from you.”

Eddie unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black acrylic case. He removed the lid, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Holy shit, baby.”

Inside the case, was a brand new set of black onyx and ruby red DND dice.

“You like ‘em? Robin almost left me in the store because I just couldn’t decide—“

Eddie put the dice down quickly, grabbed your cheek, and kissed you tenderly.

He brought his other hand to your face as well, cupping it gently as his mouth moved over yours

When he was done with your mouth, Eddie kissed your nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your chin, any part of you he deemed not smothered in affection enough.

His lips had barely left your skin before he spoke, “I love you. God, I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Your smile—it could light up the whole town.

“Y-Yeah?” You asked hopefully, “You do?”

Eddie nodded, his hair tickling you cheeks. “I really, really do, baby. I love you. Thank you for thinking of me. For taking the time to do something that I never woulda done for myself. Thank you for just…” Eddie sighed, kissing your forehead. “Just for being mine. Christ, I’m so lucky.”

It wasn't about the gift.

Eddie had it all when he had you, and now he's going to make sure you know it.

[hazelsmirrorball]

 Rockstar girlfriend II. | Hazel Callahan

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other.  Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Heavy makeout session,  smoking. English isn’t my main language  a/n: Wrote this in class so I hope you gusy enjoy! Plus I’m really grateful on all the love you gave to the last one 

part one. part three. part four. part five

Heart throb and Rock sensation, Hazel Callahan from the band ‘The Bottoms’ was caught making out with a C list celebrity.   

Every press was good press or at least that was something her manager tried to convince her that being associated with Hazel Callahan was a good thing for her career. She wanted to agree but seeing the picture stare back at her with that damn headline made her go insane. She couldn’t believe it was even possible to be more pissed off at Hazel Callahan, more than she once was. Hazel got praised for the things she did. Rock sensation and Heart Throb and what did Y/n get? C list celebrity? Was this some type of cruel joke? Did Hazel personally know the writer of the article? Was she fucking them? Either way she was on the editors good side and also on the press good side. 

The picture had gotten a lot of attention, like a LOT of attention. The publicity stunt had done its job  spreading like wildfire. Hazel’s ring covered hands gripping onto her ass while Y/n moaned into the kiss. Hazel white tank tops rose up whilst Y/n’s skirt was almost at her stomach.  Both of the girls' hair was a mess and both of them look like they enjoy the kiss. 

The picture haunted Y/n’s head, there was evidence that she was melting into her biggest enemy's touch. Everything was a constant reminder of that. Instead of Y/n falling asleep pissed out of her mind because of some random shit Hazel did now she found herself falling asleep flustered. The only thought running through her head was Hazel's hands running all over her body and her sweet kisses. She had heard through other celebrities that Hazel was a good kisser but never would it cross her mind that she was going to test that theory. When Y/n tried writing a song she would find herself unconsciously trying to find words that rhyme with Hazel. If the lingering touch wasn’t enough all Y/n could see was the damn picture of them making out. In very elaborate almost pornographic fan edits, news articles and magazines, t-shirts, everywhere. Even Brittney went to the point of making that picture her wallpaper to mess with her. 

Things were different now, not a good different, but different. She still despised Hazel; the only thing that had changed was the kiss between the two and the fact that people now knew that they didn’t hate each other. So their PR team was actually onto something because song streams from both sides were upping by the minute. Gaining followers left to right, both fandoms trying to uncover which song was dedicated for who. Every drama reporter and Late Night show host tried contacting their management team just to get the scoop on what was happening between the two. So management made it their mission to ride that heat of the moment.  

That’s how Y/n, Isabel and Brittney found themselves backstage in The Bottoms concert. Management wanted people to link Hazel with Y/n as the “Rock Star girlfriend” so after fighting for her manager for what felt like hours she found herself pushing past people to find Hazel. Her management team wanted fans to see Y/n wearing something that belonged to Hazel, so  they would think they were a couple. 

Y/n looked at the door in front of her, Hazel name written in her messy writing on a small whiteboard. Her hand reached towards the door handle, slowly opened the door to the dressing room. Y/n instantly scrunched up her nose as the smell of cigarettes overtook her nostrils. She looked around the dark room in front of her furrowing her eyes. The room was filled with half empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, several cigarette budds, dirty shirts and other things she couldn’t even understand what they were. They had only been here for a day, how was it possible for her to make such a mess. 

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your favorite girl?” A voice spoke, making Y/n turn towards the couch watching how Hazel inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. Hazel leaned back comfortably onto the leather couch, her leather covered legs spread open as she looked at her with barely open eyes. Y/n’s eyes followed her lips watching how the smoke slowly escaped her lips. She could feel her face turn red cursing herself for feeling like this in front of her. 

“Hello.” Y/n barely managed to get out, not knowing what to say. Usually she would bitch out at Hazel with ease. Going off for hours annoyed at the girl, but now she was a flustered mess, imagining those leather pants rubbing against her thighs. 

“L/n? You are usually very vocal? Ever since our little work session you don’t know what to say. My hotness finally caught up to you?” Hazel replied, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray next to her, stubbing it out. She sent a smile her way, running her now available ring-covered hands over her pants slowly. Hazel smirked watching how Y/n’s eyes didn’t leave her hands. 

“Shut up” Y/n mumbled, gaining her composure glaring down at her, her anger once again showing up. Hazel let out a chuckle not moving from her place looking at Y/n through her long eyelashes. Y/n noticed the hint of a mischievous look in her eyes. What was she thinking about? 

“What? Is my little D lister bitch flustered? Remember this is all professional, L/n. If it weren’t for this stupid contract I wouldn’t let you five feet near me. You are lucky that I even touch you.” Hazel replied tauntingly, sending a smirk her way. Her arms stretched against the backrest of the couch. Y/n lips scrunched up as she furrowed her eyebrows pissed off out of her mind. Y/n moved towards Hazel pulling her towards Y/n by the silver chain that adorned her neck. 

“Let me tell you something, Callahan. I don’t want this. If it weren't from my damn manager fighting with me to be here, I would be anywhere but here. So don’t get too cocky, like you said this, this is professional. So you can call me an actress, because your touch didn’t do shit” Y/n gripped on her chain harder as Hazel looked up at her fake shook covering her face. Her hands reached up in a defensive manner while her gaze turned in her usually cocky one. 

“They don’t call me a master with my hands just because I’m good with the guitar, sweetheart. I know how to differentiate a fake moan from a real one and what you did wasn't fake.” Hazel reached out towards Y/n pushing a string of her hair behind her ear sending a shiver  up  her spine.  Y/n searched for the words to say but she couldn’t find a word in the dictionary to make a comeback. Hazel hands reached towards her waist pushing Y/n down on her lap. 

“You look stressed, why don’t you take a smoke?” Hazel continued reaching for the table next to them, handing her  the box of cigarettes. Y/n looked down at the cigarettes in her lap and slowly looked up at Hazel taking in every inch of her. 

“I don’t smoke” Y/n replied, looking to the side. Hazel took the box of cigarettes in her hand, taking one out and placing it on her lips. She quickly bucked her hips up still holding onto Y/n with one hand to slip out her lighter. Hazel pushed  the end of the lighter against Y/n chin making her look at her. 

“You are tense, you need to ease down. So help me out, pretty girl” The said while gripping onto the cigarette on her teeth. Hazel handed the lighter to Y/n waiting for her to light it up. Y/n slowly leaned in, turning the lighter on the flame hitting Hazel’s skin making her glow. Y/n looked at Hazel’s closed eyes, the messy smokey liner surrounding her eyes caused a small smile to form on her lips. Hazel slowly gripped on her waist to make her continue. She slowly lights up the cigarette resting her hand on Hazel’s cheek. Turning off the lighter and placing it on the table next to her, not breaking eye contact with Hazel. 

Hazel closed her eyes inhaling the smoke for a few seconds keeping the smoke inside her mouth. She removed the cigarette slowly searching for Y/n’s eyes leaning towards, her lips hovering Y/n’s lips. Hazel placed the cigarette down on the ashtray slowly placing her thumb in between Y/n’s lips slowly opening them up. Hazel blew out the smoke on to Y/n’s mouth. Y/n closed her eyes, humming from the sensation. Y/n attached their lips together finding herself in the same predicament as a few days ago. Both girls fighting for dominance not wanting to lose the upper hand. 

But before Hazel could even do anything else, Y/n’s had moved her lips from hers and latched onto her neck. Y/n left sloppy kisses on Hazel’s neck, she kisses all over trying to find Hazel’s sweet spot. After a few seconds a soft whimper escaped from Hazel’s lips making Y/n smirk into her neck. She worked on that area whilst Hazel bit her lip in an attempt to cover her moans. 

“If you aren’t vocal, I’ll stop sweetheart” Y/n replied imitating Hazel's usual tone , blowing against the freshly done hickey. Hazel glared at her, taking her by the neck and pushing her against the couch pinning her down. Y/n looked up at her pissed out of her mind, while Hazel smirked her chain hanging against her face softly hitting her nose. 

“Never forget who’s in charge” She replied, letting go of her neck and moving off her heading towards the door. 

“Where are you even going?” Y/n asked looking up from the couch. Hazel chuckled turning towards her. 

“I’m going to do a show, so don’t miss me too much” and with that Hazel was gone. 

Hazel maybe had won the fight but Y/n was going to win the war. The next morning news articles made Y/n wake up in joy. Headliners making her go insane but this time in a good way. 

Y/n L/n, popstar sensation, making it known that her bass playing girlfriend is hers. 

...

Thank you for reading!

next part

[previous part]

[cobragardens]

CORRECTED & UPDATED! Clothes + Equivocation = Romance:

The Husbands in 1793

EDIT: I made a significant error when I wrote this. As @goodjomans kindly points out in the comments to Part 2 of this essay (massive shoutout for this, goodjomans! also I love your name!), Aziraphale is the one who dresses the executioner in clothing like Aziraphale's original ensemble, not Crowley. This changes my conclusions about the meaning we can take from this scene!

On the one hand, mea culpa, y'all. I shall get on with eating my crow. On the other hand, I had to go through this frame-by-frame to catch which of the ineffable spouses puts Jean-Claude in his new togs, and the answer only lasts three frames. Here it is:

After Aziraphale changes his clothes, but before Crowley snaps his fingers and unfreezes time, there's a shot of the executioner over Crowley's shoulder, and he is now wearing a light coat with gold embroidery on the shoulders like Aziraphale's. Aziraphale arranges the executioner's death, not Crowley. So I feel like an idiot for missing it, but not a total idiot.

Let's discuss how this information changes what we can read from this scene! I'm going to leave my original text in place and edit with bold green. I can still stand by most of this essay, but this detail changes how I read the meaning of the husbands' communication at the end of this scene.

So we're all clear on the fact that the universe of Good Omens is an inescapable nightmare dystopia in which either of the husbands' merciless authoritarian regimes could be watching or listening to them at any time, yes? And that if either are caught 'fraternizing' with the other that means discorporation, torture, memory wipe, and/or death for either or both of them, yes?

Which means Crowley and Aziraphale can never speak or do anything openly to each other about their friendship or attraction or love. Everything they say and do has to have an innocuous meaning they can point to in case anybody ever sees or hears something Team Azcrow can't explain away. Walls (and ducks) have ears, and the price of slipping up--as we see in 1827--is heavy.

When a character says or does something that has two distinct meanings because they need to disguise what they really mean from one party but make their meaning plain to another, lit-nerds (and lit nerds🍃) call this equivocation. Equivocation is a kind of coded communication meant to pass hostile ears and eyes in plain sight but reach its intended recipient with its true meaning. The 1793 scene is jammed with it.

A lot of that coded messaging revolves around the clothes Crowley and Aziraphale choose in this scene, so--THESIS PARAGRAPH, BITCHES--we're going going to talk about how their clothes read to the people of this time period and location, what their clothes tell us about their characters, how their clothes help them equivocate, and what they're really saying with that equivocation. And Spoiler A-fucking-lert, it is ROMANTIC AF PRETTY GD ROMANTIC. Let's get nerdy!

We start with Aziraphale's beautiful champagne-gold and powder-pink ensemble.

This outfit would tell people of this time period 3 things about Aziraphale:

That he's insanely wealthy--These clothes would be silk, hand-embroidered with thread made with actual gold. Each individual garment could cost years' or even decades' worth of working-class wages and take a team of skilled artisans dozens to hundreds of hours to make.

That he's a fop--i.e., a man who loves fine clothes and dressing up and looking fancy. By the 1790s in England, once-fashionable foppishness was giving way to the Neoclassical 'Corinthian' style, and was considered effete. (Fun note: During this time period, effete did not automatically indicate gay, and pink was considered a masculine color, so while Az. is queering it up to the audience here, his clothes would not have read as gay or overtly effeminate to the other characters around him.)

Even though he's insanely wealthy, Aziraphale wears clothes that are decades out of fashion.

According to the Victoria & Albert Museum, "As the [18th] century progressed, the male silhouette slowly changed.[...] Coat skirts gradually became less full and the front was cut in a curved line towards the back. Waistcoats became shorter. The upper leg began to show more and more[...]. Shoes became low-heeled with pointed toes and were fastened with a detachable buckle and straps or ribbon[.]

Source

That description is not what Aziraphale's wearing. Judging by his heel height and the length of his waistcoat, Aziraphale is wearing a style that's at least a decade older than this:

And this is from 1765. The great crepes caper happens in 1793, almost 30 years later.

My inference: Just as he has in the modern period, Aziraphale has settled into a style he really likes and refused to let go of it long after it's gone out of fashion.

We'll come back to this set of Aziraphale's clothes in a bit, but we need to talk about Crowley's first, because Crowley's clothes in this scene help render a line he says later about this outfit very flirtatious and darkly romantic.

First, some background: What was considered acceptable attire for wealthy people in France changed pretty much overnight during the French Revolution after the storming of the Bastille in 1789 and the fall of the French monarchy. Instead of advertising wealth, clothes now had to advertise political allegiance, and they had to do so loud and clear. And if you didn't want to be murdered by the French First Republic, that political allegiance had fucking better be to the Revolution.

People started wearing a looooooot of super patriotic shit. And I mean it was like little kids on the 4th of July; clothes were red, white, and blue in any hue and garish combination and print. The cockade, a fabric rosette in the colors of the French flag, was required by law to be worn by men, and despite that was just as popular among women. To show solidarity with the laboring classes, the fabrics the wealthy wore went from embroidered silk in light Rococo colors (what Aziraphale is wearing) to sober neutrals without decoration in wool, cotton, and linen.

Now, the script note for Crowley's clothing in this scene is this:

But clearly there were some changes made between script and filming, because Crowley does not appear standing behind Aziraphale; he appears lounging.

And he's not dressed as a French peasant.

Here's how French peasants dressed in 1790:

Peasants at this time wore styles that distinguished them from the styles of the upper classes not just in materials, colors, or patterns, but in shapes. Full trousers and cropped boxy jackets in French flag colors were the marks of the laboring-class Revolutionary, and both styles were huge changes from hundreds of years of French fashion up to that point.

And that's not what Crowley shows up wearing. Crowley is wearing the knee breeches, stockings, waistcoat, and frock coat of a wealthy man, and in fact his clothes reference a very specific type of wealthy man.

In the 1790s, if you were an aristocrat who wasn't happy about the Revolution and you were so sure of your privilege that you would risk your life showing it, you wore black in mourning for the monarchy and in protest of the violence of its deposition. If you were an aristocrat who wanted to protest and you didn't want to be immediately murdered by the French First Republic, you wore a style called half-mourning, which was black with a colored coat.

Here's a picture from a 1790 fashion magazine of an aristocrat in half-mourning:

"The text accompanying the plate describes his ensemble as 'half-mourning,' referring to the aristocrats who lamented 'the diminished powers of the monarchy and [signaled] their willingness to die for the royal cause'" [emph. added]. [Source]

Notice: the shoes, stockings, breeches, waistcoat, and cravat are all black. You with me?

Because here's Crowley in 1793:

I've turned up the brightness and exposure in this image so he's more clearly visible against the stone, but I haven't warmed it up. He's wearing a coat that's a dark blackish red. Everything else, even his cravat, even his shirt, is black. (The black shirt is anachronistic, a lovely little nod to Crowley's refusal to wear angelic white.)

This is 179fuckin'3, y'all. Marie Antoinette is executed in 1793. It's 3 full years after that fashion plate up there in his bright red jacket, and that lil dude was already risking his neck way back in 1790. As we can see from the fact that the government are apparently now grabbing random wealthy-looking Englishmen off the street to murder without trial, the time for a man demon to be sauntering around Paris dressed in all black or even nearly all black is well past.

Crowley's also wearing a whole assload of huge silver buttons, which would have been flashy and tacky and frankly pretty weird in 1793 but very definitely an eccentric Rich Person Thing to do, bc regular buttons at this time were horn or wood and covered with the garment's fabric. The only man in France who could get away with this fancy aristo shit anymore was Robespierre himself, and only "devotion to the cause[...] excused Robespierre’s showy dress since he was perceived as a bridge between the politically empowered bourgeois deputies and the ardently antimonarchical unenfranchised classes." [Source]

So when Crowley teases Aziraphale--

--both of them are perfectly well aware that Crowley's outfit would get him just as killed as Aziraphale's.

And that's why Aziraphale's expression is annoyed when he has abandon his "standards" and change his clothes. Because Aziraphale's the one who needs the favor, Crowley makes him take one for the team and wear the goofy hat.

The clothes Az. changes into here still tell people that he's rich, but they also say he's a hardcore Revolutionary. The red jacket in a current cutaway style, the cockade and sash, and the bonnet phrygien (the red garden-gnome cap) all announce this guy is a huge supporter of the Revolution. His clothes are all still aristocratic in shape and materials (and he keeps his now-unfashionably frilly lace cravat), but he's no longer flaunting obscene wealth in a city filled with angry starving people, and the gnome cap says he's in solidarity with the working classes even if he isn't one of them.

Once he restarts time, Crowley is not leaving that prison cell safely without either changing his clothes or taking Aziraphale with him, because Crowley looks like a rich asshole protesting the fall of the monarchy--which is frankly exactly the kind of thing he'd show up wearing to the Bastille during the Reign of Terror (just like he wears athleisure in Heaven). But Aziraphale's new appearance covers for them both: if the rich-looking guy with no cockade and wearing all black under his almost-black coat is in with this other guy who's obviously a Revolution fanatic, then the rich guy's probably okay, right? He just forgot his sash at home or something. Bees.

Something else happens when Az. changes, too. Look at Aziraphale's new dress from a different angle:

Half-mourning is a white shirt, but a black cravat, so this isn't half-mourning. He's wearing three different badges of the Revolution to make up for the fact that Crowley looks like a Satanic libertine (which tbf he is), but Aziraphale's new ensemble is black and dark red.

Y'all. Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

Now, this is a more fashionable and higher quality version of what the executioner is wearing, so Aziraphale has very plausible deniability here; if anyone ever pulled him up on it, he could say he just copied our man Jean-Claude.

But let me show you what English fashion looks like right now:

This is a French painting of a wealthy Frenchman, but he's wearing the English 'Corinthian' style. It was painted in 1795, so this would have been the very cutting edge of fashion in England in 1793, and the fabrics and colors look right at home in Revolutionary Paris. (He's wearing the cockade on his hat, btw.)

Look at all that angelic white! The buttery almond of the buckskin breeches, the golden kidskin gloves, the rich tan of the riding boots! The blue of the greatcoat! All colors we know Aziraphale prefers!

And yet this is what Aziraphale chooses:

We know from the entire rest of the show how very particular about his clothes Aziraphale is. And yet 150 years before he (accidentally) admits in words that he's Crowley's friend, Aziraphale wears Crowley's colors to take him to lunch to say thank you for a rescue.

When we decide whether a character's speech or action is equivocation, one of the things we check is whether equivocation (and deception generally) is something that character does elsewhere in the text, which, with Aziraphale, hahahahaha, DUH. He's already using equivocation in this scene.

The lunch date itself is equivocation on Aziraphale's part. Aziraphale tries to thank Crowley for the rescue, but Crowley says,

So Aziraphale says,

No more words like "thanks" or "rescue" used, but a couple hours of good food and drink and conversation, Aziraphale hopes, will express the gratitude toward Crowley it's not safe to speak aloud. With this, Crowley and Aziraphale explicitly establish that they are equivocating for each other's safety and using coded communication--immediately before Aziraphale changes into Crowley's colors.

So yes, Aziraphale may well copy the executioner's clothes. But consider: When a character who can't speak or act openly says or does something that has two or more possible meanings, this can be read as equivocation.

We don't get a face reaction from Crowley about Aziraphale's new 'fit, so we can't be sure how he feels about this. But this whole scene is, even on its surface, about 1) the meaning clothes transmit to a viewer ("Oh good Lord," says Aziraphale when he sees what Crowley's wearing) and 2) how to show gratitude and appreciation when you can't speak of them openly. And we know Crowley notices clothing and clothing colors, because look at what he wears, like, ever. So it's very reasonable to presume he notices Aziraphale wearing his colors, and it fits well with both the rest of Crowley's actions in this scene and with his being very hurt and angry when Aziraphale later characterizes their interactions as "fraternizing."

Right, so we've covered what's going on with the husbands' clothes, and we've looked at two examples of equivocation on Aziraphale's part, viz., lunch and his change of colors. (Here's an example of equivocation on Crowley's part as well.) Now let's look at that super interesting thing Crowley says about Aziraphale's first outfit.

Here's the line:

Crowley follows up here on earlier lines in which he teases Aziraphale for coming to Reign-of-Terror Paris for crepes: "Dressed like that?" meaning Aziraphale was guaranteed to get arrested dressed like an aristocrat. The top layer of equivocation is always an innocuous meaning: the plausible deniability meant for the hostile/unsafe listeners. That's Meaning 1.

But "Dressed like that, s/he's asking for trouble" means two other things, too. It's a veeerrrrry familiar phrase, isn't it? We've all heard that arrangement of words in that order before. It's used when people think someone (usually but not always a woman) is dressed to invite sexual attention.

How do we know we're supposed to take this modern meaning from this phrase? This is how:

We have learned in literally the previous sentence to this one that rain has not been invented yet. The only two humans in existence have just left the Garden. Balloons definitely do not exist yet, humans couldn't tell you what lead is, and yet this is a phrase Crowley uses and Aziraphale understands. This tells us, the audience, in the very first line of the very first scene with these characters, that their speech is anachronistic and modern, and that we are to understand their phrasing in its contemporary sense.

So. When Crowley says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" in 1793, we should read that in the context of the scene and in the senses the phrase carries to us today.

And since Crowley is using a phrase that means the executioner is dressed to invite sexual attention, and the executioner is wearing clothes identical to Aziraphale's, then Crowley is necessarily telling Aziraphale that when Aziraphale was wearing those clothes--those frilly, effete, unfashionable-for-decades clothes that nobody else likes and the French now murder people for wearing--that was, in Crowley's view...provocatively sexy. Meaning 2.

"Dressed like that, s/he was asking for trouble" is also what people say to justify violence, especially sexual violence against women and queerphobic attacks against men perceived as gay or just 'insufficiently' 'masculine'. In fact justifying assault is likely the most common way this phrase is used today by a wide margin. Meaning 3.

Crowley's joke isn't even really a joke in this sense; it's a vicious barb. And, because it must, it sounds like it's at Aziraphale's expense: You wore the wrong clothes, you weren't careful enough to guard yourself against the men who want to do you harm, so you deserved the trouble you got. Meaning 1.

Except remember: Crowley is also dressed for trouble. And Aziraphale is aware of this. Crowley's 'fit would be almost as offensive to the Revolutionary French of 1793 as Aziraphale's Rococo pastels, and probably just as likely to get him arrested and murdered by the state if he weren't making letting Aziraphale keep him safe by wearing the cockade and the silly hat. Crowley's not saying anything about Aziraphale here that he's not also saying about himself; and as we know from Aziraphale's initial "Oh good Lord" when he turns around and sees Crowley's black and red half-mourning (with extra black and gobs of silver), Aziraphale knows it.

Then why the rapey joke, Crowley?

This is fucking why:

Crowley rocks up at the Bastille just in time to witness some grubby fucker assault his friend. Assault the person Crowley will greet 15 seconds after this as angel.

Crowley's first act after freeing Aziraphale is to send this dude to his death. Nope! Aziraphale is the one who arranges to have the executioner killed in the clothes he would have killed Aziraphale for wearing. He takes Jean-Claude's ability to speak (but not to make sounds, interestingly! Jean-Claude can still whimper, Jean-Claude can still cry!) so the executioner can't tell anyone about the 'mixup.' It's unclear which of them blocks the executioner's power of speech. The vicious joke about assault in Meaning 3 isn't at Aziraphale's expense at all. It's not You wore the wrong clothes, so you deserved the trouble you got. It's If this guy thinks you deserve trouble for wearing the wrong clothes, he can eat his own rules.

And that's the other piece of evidence that, along with Crowley's ensemble, shows us the audience and Aziraphale which meanings Crowley intends with his equivocation. Meaning 1 is cancelled out by Crowley's clothes. That leaves Meanings 2 and 3.

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what their clothes help them say without words.

Concluded in Part 2!

[y-rhywbeth2]

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #1

Feeding and Diet It's actually more complicated than just "they bite you and eat your blood." Plus what they're able to eat; how often they need to eat; what happens to you if they bite you and what happens to them if they don't feed- spoiler: it's unpleasant. Incidentally, you should reload and kill Cazador again.

(I was comparing stuff across editions and compiling it into something more coherent and then figured I'd info dump about it in case my fixations are useful to somebody out there.)

DISCLAIMER: There are two things to note about the lore presented here: First, while the standard stat block in the monster manual is the default, in terms of lore vampires have this annoying tendency to be incredibly, stupidly varied. They are magical monstrosities ruled by the power of symbolism and superstition above anything else.

The next is that D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest.

Basically, in D&D, canon is what you decide it is.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

They only need to feed once in a 24 hour period. Vampires can survive between 3-9 months of starvation, but it's a terrible idea. -

There are three different categories of "Undead Hunger." Vampires have two of them and actually need to consume more than one thing to stay "healthy": Blood and life force. -

The blood is obvious. This is categorised as a "diet dependency." It's required to preserve their bodies and powers, and without it their powers* are suppressed as their bodies begin to shut down. *This refers to the powers a vampire gains with age; they cannot lose power they had as a newborn (the base stat blocks given for vampires and spawn given in the monster manual) A vampire requires the equivalent of 12 hit points of blood a day, or it begins to revert into a corpse-like state. Mentally they slowly regress into a desperate, mindless animal frenzy where they'll kill and drain anything containing blood they can get their hands on. Ultimately, if they don't get any blood then they revert into a corpse and they're trapped in their own body as it begins to wither and mummify. They're trapped in a coma, vaguely aware of the passing of time in flashes of awareness until somehow they are fed blood. If they ever wake up again, they will probably wake up feral and absolutely ravenous. -

Vampires rely on the victim's blood pressure to expel blood from the wound they create, lapping and mouthing at the wound rather than actually sucking on it. Being bitten is a highly pleasurable experience that victims can't help but desire, even when they know they shouldn't. -

While the damage done remains, the wounds from a Vampire bite closes itself quickly after the feeding (assuming you're still alive). It does however leave a mark. The bite mark itself is often "less than half an inch in length", and leaves behind a significant bruise that causes no pain or sensitivity to touch. Other side effects include fatigue and a weakened immune system. -

Vampires typically target sleeping victims (less likely to fight back) and favour the blood of their own race above others. So theoretically, Astarion finds elf blood tastes best. -

Drinking animal blood tastes bland and is health-wise akin to drinking tainted water: yes it might keep you alive in desperate times, but it's ultimately bad for you and will probably make you ill. That said, it has no mechanical detriments and a vampire that's forced to live on animal blood will be just as strong as its kin, but considerably bad tempered about it. -

A vampire's secondary feeding requirement is called an "inescapable craving", which means that if a vampire doesn't get that fix then their hunger begins to devour them instead. The pain is described as a spike boring into the vampire's brain, obscuring their awareness. They begin to obsess over feeding to the exclusion of everything else, they become willing to take ridiculous levels of risk to stop the hunger as they become more and more desperate. As they are consumed they become progressively more feral until they're just a rampaging mindless horror driven only by horrific hunger. For vampires, their inescapable craving is life force, which a vampire leeches from their prey through touch leaving the victim weak. Direct skin contact isn't required, if you're wearing full plate and/or the vampire is wearing gloves and they lay a hand on you they can still drain you. Mechanically these were combat abilities, energy/level draining occurred when a vampire struck a target with their own body (usually their hands). Before 5e hit them with a nerf bat, vampires could permanently weaken you this way (you could lose character levels from this). 5e also seems to have rolled life drain into the biting, so a vampire can consume your blood and energy at the same time. -

Post feeding, a vampire starts to look alive. Their skin is flushed and warm and they feel elated and energetic. In contrast, a vampire that hasn't been feeding properly becomes more corpse like and feels "sluggish" (I'm interpreting that as flu-like symptoms). It's purely emotional however, the vampire is no less capable and dangerous and suffers no mechanical penalties. -

Vampires can feed on other vampires, which is actually more filling than living humanoid blood and gives them the ability to communicate telepathically for a few hours. They don't like it though. If a vampire drinks from another vampire then they can be controlled by that vampire and the link forces them to feel affection for each other against their will until it wears off. The results of both vampires in question feeding on each other is described as "debilitating" since they both paradoxically become enslaved to the other's will and forced to "love" each other creating an absolute dysfunctional mess of control, obsession and resentment. The good news is that it only lasts a few hours. -

Some vampires can eat regular food (no nutritional value in it for them) while others would regurgitate it if they tried. As they retain their tongues, vampires can also taste food. That said, it's a bad idea for them to eat garlic, even if they can eat solid food. -

Some kinds of vampires don't drink blood. There's all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff a vampire might be required to consume instead. Spinal fluid stands out. Or the bit about ones who drain the ocular fluid from your eyes. Gale might find interesting things to talk about with the magic eating ones who prey on mages. They're much less common, probably something to do with most people not finding that very sexy. I don't think any of them exist on Toril.

[piningforstan]

Too Sweet

Summary: Stan has lied and cheated and fought his whole life, and he’s not exactly sure when he had time to do whatever it took to deserve you.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mention of an age gap, suggestive adult content but nothing graphic, fluff with some light angst

A/N: Inspired by Hozier’s song by the same name!! I seriously need an edit of Stan to it

Also, an age gap LI with Stan (like they’re in their 30s or 40s) just really does something to me. Stan mentions “women” once in the story but otherwise I wrote it with the intent of being GN.

A shift of the mattress roused him from his fitful sleep. Stan cracked open an eye. The flickering alarm clock told him that he’s only been asleep for a few hours, he vaguely remembered creeping into the bedroom sometime after three. Dreaming peacefully then, free of punishing nightmares, you now stood with your back to him, stretching your arms up over your head.

His gaze traveled appreciatively from your head to the slip of skin revealed by your t-shirt lifted ever so slightly. Pale morning light slanted into the room in thin bars thrown across your face. You hum to yourself as you pull on your bathrobe and shuffle into the bathroom, Stan watching you from heavy lidded eyes the entire time.

A groan climbed up his throat. He threw one arm over his face.

What was he doing?

He didn’t miss the time when he would wake up alone, head muddled by alcohol. He missed the time when he did not feel so goddamn guilty. Your presence reminded him constantly that you were too…good for him. He had lived a long, shitty life and it never bother him — his decisions, his lifestyle — when he was by himself. But now you were here.

Not only were you younger than him, you had never done a fucking bad thing in your life. You went to bed at a decent time and always woke up early to watch the sunrise, you faced everything with unflinching enthusiasm. You smiled and laughed and danced without inhibition or regret. And, worst of all, you looked at him and loved him in spite of his mistakes and wrongdoings.

When the bathroom door opened he quickly pretended to be asleep again, the knot in his stomach tightening as you stopped to press a kiss on his cheek on your way out.

By the time he actually woke up, he didn’t even want to acknowledge the time, Stan shuffled into the kitchen to find his family immersed in a heated debate. Mable stood on her chair with Waddles on the table, gesticulating wildly while you and Dipper argued with her.

Upon spotting Stan, Mable cried out, “Grunkle Stan! We need your help.”

Stan scratched his chin. “What is it, kid?”

“If Waddles was going to wear pants —”

“They would be like this, right?” You intervened before Mable could finish, drawing a line around the pig’s midsection then gesturing towards his back half. Dipper nodded, signaling his approval.

“No, no, no, no,” Mable said, “it would be this way. To cover all his wittle wegs.”

She indicated the imaginary pants around his entire body, covering the entirety of his lower half. Stan stared in disbelief as the debate lapsed into an argument once more.

“I need coffee,” he grunted.

Without even stopping, you pressed a steaming mug into his hand, then raised your eyebrows expectantly.

Stan sighed. “Why is the pig wearing pants? That lucky son of a gun has been naked since the day he was born.”

“Just hypothetically,” Dipper said.

Turns out, Stan’s opinion wasn’t actually needed. Rather, you and the twins set to speculating about the possibility of pig pants without including him. Eventually he just collapsed into one of the ancient chairs and sipped his coffee, willing his headache to go away. He noted affectionately how passionate you were about this topic of choice, always ready to leap into whatever strange scheme his family concocted.

After some time Mabel loudly exclaimed that she was going to knit pants for Waddles to “prove everyone wrong!” and the debate dispersed. Dipper stormed off muttering, leaving Stan alone with you.

You looked still deep in thought as you collected your own now cold coffee and sat back down. You poured in about half the container of sugary creamer.

“You should’ve been on my side,” you sniffed. Stan knew by the hint of a smile on your mouth — god, your mouth — that you were teasing.

“My policy is always no pants,” Stan said. “No doubt about it. No pants.”

You rolled your eyes. “Clearly.”

Stan shifted in his seat, grinning at you. He never bothered putting on pants in the morning, just his reliable ol’ boxers.

“Hey, you’re lucky I’ve got these on. Anyways, you weren’t complaining last night by —”

“FORD!” You quickly exclaimed.

Stan’s grin only grew more pronounced as his brother strode into the room. If Ford had heard the tail end of your conversation, he didn’t mention it. More often than not Sixer was so completely in his own world that he barely knew he had company.

Stan liked how your cheeks were still pink as you bid Ford good afternoon. Afternoon. Fuck.

Panic spiraled through him.

“I’ve got a tour to give —”

You waved your hand while sipping your coffee. “I rescheduled it for…” you consulted your phone, “thirty minutes from now. Better hurry, old man.”

“Thanks, kid. You really saved my bacon.”

“Again,” Ford muttered.

Stan shot him a glare but still hurried out of the kitchen to get changed. He glimpsed Mabel in the living room, crisscrossed on the carpet, measuring Waddles for his pants. The pig snorted pleadingly in Stan’s direction.

“Women,” Stan said, “always making guys like us put on pants.”

Stan would have to be his brother to count on his fingers how many times you anticipated something he needed. The coffee. The tour. A distraction for the tourist when the googly eye of one of the exhibits popped off. A redeeming interpretation of his reaction to Waddles’ pants after spitting out his beer. Then, to top it all off at the end of the day, encircling your arms around his middle and sagging into him. His heart surged with profound emotion.

“Ah, c’mere, kid,” he mumbled against your hair. You smelled like home.

Stan held you tight. Too many times he had let the good things in his life go, slip right through his grip. He was determined not to lose you too.

He fumbled to find the words he’s been meaning to tell you all day. “I, um…thank you. For today.”

For every day.

The words stuck in his throat.

“For what?” You blinked at him. The need to protect you, to preserve your happiness and well-being, seized him so strongly that it took him several moments to compose himself.

“Ya know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Saving my ass. Yer, uh, too sweet for me. Ya know what I mean?”

How many more times would he say ya know? Did he know any other words?

Your face lights up anyways. “I love your ass. I will always save it. Don’t want anything happening to it.” You squeezed said ass playfully and he smirked in response. “But seriously, Stan, you don’t have to thank me. I love you. That’s what you do for someone you love.”

Stan bristled. No matter how long he had been with you, after several months of skittering around each other, he wouldn’t get used to those words leaving your mouth. His parents had never uttered them, nor his brother. Hell, he rarely said it, can only remember saying them to you.

If he ever said them to anyone else — any past lovers or ex-wives — it was in a placating nature, never like this. Never real.

“Anyway, you do lots of things for me too,” you tell him.

“Do I?”

You lay your head back on his chest. “I always fall asleep before you do and you always make sure to tuck me in and refill my water when you come in. You make me laugh and you make me feel safe.”

You kept listing examples but truthfully he had stopped listening. Stan realized he did do these things, things that he didn’t even think about doing, he just did.

“—maybe you’re just too sweet for me,” you finish, drawing him back.

“Ha!” Stan laughs. Hopefully it’s more convincing than it sounds to his own ears, self-deprecating instead of secretly pleased. “Better not let anyone else hear you say that or I’d have to give them a knuckle sandwich.”

“THEY FIT!”

You closed your mouth. Whatever you were going to say is swallowed by the sounds of Mabel’s excitement. Stan smiled at you as you grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the sound of Mabel’s demands — come here! come here! — and Waddles in his new pants.

He committed everything about you to memory as you stooped down to admire Waddle and commend Mabel for her hard work. Stan knew that you would fit in perfectly with his family. He never would’ve guessed that someday he couldn’t imagine his family without you in it, couldn’t even conjure a day without you there.

Maybe you were too sweet for him.

But he was sweet on you.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: none

Chapter Word Count: 1903

—-MDNI—-

A/N: the last few chapters have been a bit wild with the emotions, so let’s have some feel-good bullshit. It’s a slightly shorter chapter because this was the best place to leave it. Otherwise it would’ve been waaaayyyyy too long. Also I wrote most of this in one sitting and has only been proof read once, so let me know of any errors.

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 12

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 13

The next twenty four hours passed by without incident. Films were watched - with Deans personal commentary - and snacks were munched. Sam dipped in and out, occasionally joining us for the films and scenes he preferred as we watched the entire Lord of the Rings extended edition box set, followed by a short intermission before we continued with all three of the Hobbit films.

“I mean, the Rudy-hobbit is clearly the true hero. Dude saved the day on multiple occasions. Plus I bet he’s jacked,” Dean spoke through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I know, I’m not arguing with you on this one; I completely agree. Frodo would’ve been fucked without him.” As I reached for my fifth hot chocolate Sam strode in, pj’s adorned, and hopped into the nest of blankets we’d made on my bed.

“You have to remember though that Frodo was under a great deal of pressure from wearing the ring all the time. I mean, when you think about how many men it had corrupted over the years, it’s incredible that a hobbit lasted as long as he did. Sam never had that burden,” Sam joined the conversation with his view on the matter whilst reaching for a handful of Deans popcorn and receiving nothing but a defensive slap on the knuckles.

“Yeah… no. Rudy-hobbit for the win still,” the older Winchester frowned at his younger brother, deciding that this topic was not up for negotiation. Sam huffed, rummaging through the bag of snacks he'd bought earlier and pulled out a tub of mini chocolate chip cookies.

“I mean, I’m surprised that you’re not siding with your namesake Sam. I would’ve thought you’d have been all over that,” I joined the debate again, reaching for a cookie to which Sam graciously let me take a few.

Dean's eyes lit up as he clocked what Sam had opened and started munching on.

“To be honest I don’t think that impacts a character's personality.”

Dean and I both snorted out a laugh.

“What?” Sam looked between us quizzically.

“Oh, being called Sam definitely impacts a character's personality,” Dean said whilst reaching for the cookie tub, only to have a taste of his own medicine with a slap to his hand.

“What the- no it doesn’t.”

Dean and I shared a look and answered in perfect unison.

“Yes it does.”

“You guys, seriously-”

“Everybody needs a Sam,” I raised my hot chocolate mug, to which Dean returned the toast by clinking his own hot chocolate mug with mine; copious amounts of whipped cream threatening to spill over as he repeated:

“Everybody needs a Sam.”

Sam huffed even harder than last time, shaking his head in annoyance despite the small grin on his lips.

“You guys are ridiculous.”

“Yeah but you love us really,” I poked him affectionately in the ribs.

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

There were a few moments of silence; Sam likely being grateful that the topic of conversation was coming to an end. Or at least so he thought.

“I mean, if you really think about it,” Dean had no intention of dropping the discussion just yet, spitting his words through another large mouthful of popcorn. “Sam is probably one of the most popular names in pop culture.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother.

“Oh yeah? And you’re a ‘pop culture’ enthusiast now?”

Dean ignored the sarcastic jab before carrying on. Either that or he was totally oblivious to it.

“You’ve got Sam from Lord of the Rings, Sam from Game of Thrones, Looney Tunes Gunslinger Sam, Sam from Cap’n ‘Merica, Sam from Transformers, Sam from The Thing, Sam from The Lost Boys, Sam from Tron:Legacy, Sam fro-”

“OK! I get it, Dean. You can stop now, geez…” Sam rubbed his temples, perhaps a little over dramatically. I turned to Dean, grinning and giving him a little pat on the arm.

“Hot dayum Dean! You do know pop culture!”

He tried to hide his smug grin behind a sip of his drink.

“What can I say? It’s how I get so lucky with the ladies.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

He returned the eyebrow gesture with a wiggle from both of his. Before he even had a chance to verbally respond I snapped my fingers and spun around to Sam.

“Don’t forget Dr Seuss! Sam I Am!”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head as Dean brought his hands together in a single loud, crisp, clap.

“Yes! Nice one,” he held his hand up for a high five, to which I returned with great enthusiasm. He leaned forwards to look past me to his brother and put on a terrible British accent, “yes, Sam I am, where art thou green eggs and ham?”

“That’s it!” Sam threw his hands up and jumped up off the bed. “You guys are nuts; you need to go outside and touch some grass or something.”

I pouted.

“What? Nooo.”

“Yeah I’m with the princess on this one; really not interested in looking at the sky today.”

I turned to Dean, my hand over my heart and a playful smile on my lips.

“Aww, Dean, you think I’m a princess?”

“Yeah, an unhinged princess with an attitude problem.”

“Fuck you.”

“There it is.”

Sam stood watching, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How much sugar have you two had? Like seriously?”

“I don’t know, maybe a farm's worth?” Dean spoke nonchalantly as he lowered his mug to reveal a whipped cream moustache. Part of me had the urge to lick it off, and the other part of me wanted to not tell him about it and let him walk around all day like that. Sam wasn’t like me though, and quickly signalled to his brother with a tap of his finger that he needed to wipe his face.

“We're going out. Shopping. I need a new jacket and Dean, you can't hide that hole in your boots any longer,” Sam stood with his hands on his hips as he listened to us both groan and slump harder into our nest of blankets.

“Do we have to…?” I whined in a childlike manner that definitely justified Sam's ‘annoyed mother' demeanour.

“Yes! Now get up and get dressed, the pair of you. I'll be waiting in the garage in 15 minutes.”

As Sam left my room, Dean and I let out a long, dramatically exasperated sigh, pulling the blankets up to our chin.

“Since when did we let him boss us around?” Dean stared up at the ceiling.

I shrugged.

“Since he's normally the one to buy us food?”

He hummed and nodded slightly in agreement.

“You're probably right- hey what are you doing?” It was like I'd stolen pie from Deans grasp when I threw the blankets back and hopped out of bed, shuffling into the bathroom to turn the shower on.

“Getting ready to go out. Obviously,” my words were shortly followed by the familiar clanking of the plumbing in my en suite, causing Dean to raise his eyebrows.

“Has it always done that?”

“Yup,” I popped the ‘P’ as I rummaged through the lack of clothing in my draws and duffle bag, making a mental note to also purchase some clothes whilst we were out.

“Want me to take a look?” He sat up, clearing his throat, masculinity all of a sudden oozing from his pores at the opportunity to be a man and fix something.

“You think you could?” I busied about arranging an outfit on my bed, too preoccupied to look at him and witness his growing smirk, his arms folding across his broad chest.

“Sweetheart, you of all people should know how good I am with my hands.”

I gawped at him as my head shot up to see him saunter over to where I was stood, the corners of my open mouth turning up as I playfully slapped him on the chest with the top I was going to wear.

“Do you have to turn everything so filthy?”

“You make it so easy; lookin’ like you do. Plus…” he tilted his head. I responded by tilting mine, urging him to continue - though I'd probably regret it.

“I know what face you make when you come; that shit lives rent free,” he tapped his temple with a devilish grin on his lips, his comment pulling a shocked gasp from my lungs at his crudeness - though I was grinning the whole time.

“That's it, get out and go get dressed,” I evaded his reaching hands as I ducked under his arm and pushed on his back, nudging him towards the door.

“Aww, no joint shower?” He pouted.

“What? No! That's a boyfriend privilege! Like time I checked, we were just fuck buddies.”

He seemed to think for a second, like he debated saying something that was right on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down and said calmly:

“Yeah that's fair.”

*

It didn't take long for me to get ready - promising to myself I'd wash my hair this evening to keep my shower quick. Whilst getting dressed I'd pulled on some jeans that were definitely a size too small; the denim hugging my thighs and ass excruciatingly tight - albeit they looked fantastic - and every time I bent over the button and belt buckle dug into the soft skin just below my belly button. I sighed, knowing how annoying this was going to be all day despite not having anything else to wear that was clean or not one of Charlie's sexy outfits. I tugged my tank top over my head; it doing very little to hide the sudden appearance of a muffin top and causing me to sigh again. I looked around for my flannel, hoping that would help but not finding it anywhere. After a few minutes I admitted defeat, putting on my boots and leaving my room.

As I hurried down to the garage I clocked a black, white and grey flannel hanging on the back of a chair. Not caring that it wasn't mine, I grabbed it and threw it on, rolling up the long sleeves to just below my elbow, the hem of the shirt dropping to just below my ass. Perfect.

As I continued my walk and having completely forgotten that I'd thrown the shirt on, I strolled hurriedly into the garage; the heavenly sound of the impala rumbling as the engine ticked over. Spotting Sam and Dean already in the front of the car, I slid into the back seat just being Sam with both boys muttering a greeting before Dean put Baby in reverse, resting his arm on the seat behind Sam as he twisted to look out the rear window. He did a double take when we looked at me, an unusual expression befalling his features that I couldn't quite place.

“You're wearing my shirt?” His voice was low, which I don't think he intended.

“Oh uhhh, I couldn't find mine so I used the first one I saw. I can take it off?”

“Don't,” it came out quick, surprising us both, “I mean, it looks good on you. You should keep it.”

I couldn't stop the warmth blooming in my cheeks.

“Thank you. And if you're really ok with that? I'd…I'd love to keep it. Thanks Dean.”

As we pulled away I saw his smile reach his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

——————————————————————

Up Next: Chapter 14

——————————————————————

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[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

[kemistre]

εïз┊𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — feat. takami "hawks" keigo

synopsis. what could possibly happen in the last few hours of your nightly patrol? surely nothing too crazy, right?

— content warnings. suggestive, angst, yelling, arguments, alcohol, drunk hawks, cheating, blood, use of 'fuck' quite a bit, i can't think of anything else but please lmk if you find something! — word count. 2,531

εïз┊author's note. this might be crazy ooc but i had the idea and i wanted to write about it <3 anyway this is in no way edited i just wrote it and now i'm posting it so it's not perfect! i might edit it later, too sleep rn😴

patrolling during the latest hours of the night was something you were never partiularly fond of. it never failed to send shivers down your spine, the act of walking up and down the streets of the city at its darkest hours.

at least when the sun was shining, there were plenty of heroes on watch making sure nothing could happen to the civilians that roamed-sometimes even the civilians would lend a helping hand. good things happened while the sun was out, but never when the moon took its place in the sky. robbery, arson, assault, murder; these were the most common crimes that the night patrol had to take care of.

and tonight, that was you. there was a part of you that just wanted to go home where it was safe and sound in your boyfriend's arms, but the other part knew you just had to get this shift over with. three hours had already past with nothing major happening, which was a win in your book.

you walked along the cracked sidewalk, the only things lighting up your path were street lights and the few businesses that kept their lights on throughout the night. a sigh fell from your lips, your breathe becoming visible through the icy air.

a jolt zipped through your body as you heard a loud crash, shouting coming from not so far away. it was sudden, a man in a unifrom came rushing out from one of the buildings in front of you. "are you a hero?" his voice echoed down the dark street. "there's a lunatic in here!"

a pit formed in your stomach as you ran as fast as you could towards the man. the shady nook. it was one of the largest bars in the city, at least once a week a hero would show up to escort someone home because they got way too drunk.

"i'm here, it'll be okay." you smiled, putting a hand on the man's shoulder before taking a step inside. your eyes widened at the scene in front of you. a man in a grey hoodie punched another man on the floor relentlessly, blood spewing everywhere while the rest of the bar chanted 'fight! fight! fight!', multiple having their phones in hand recording the ordeal.

"everyone please calm down!" you raised your voice, although no one heard you as they continued. you raised a brow and cracked your neck before rushing over to the man in the grey hood. you put your hand on his chest, pushing him away from the man beaten to a pulp on the hard concrete floor. "stop it! that's enough!" the man shoved your hand away before stumbling out of the bar, barely making it out without falling flat on his face.

you began following the man out of the building. a nervous smile found its way onto your lips as you handed the bartender a slip of paper with a string of digits on it. "sorry about this, call this number and an ambulance should be here soon."

as you caught up with the man in the hood, you spoke again. "sir, i'm going to need you to come with me. we need to get you to the police station so you can sober up and explain this mess." following closely behind him, you grabbed a hold of his wrist attempting to make him stop.

once again, he shoved your hand away as he turned towards you. "you can't take me to the police station, darling." his words were slurred, his voice hoarse. you recognized that voice. the wind picked up, coincedentally blowing back the hood that covered the man's face.

with wide eyes, you spoke. "hawks?" why was he here? "it's three o'clock in the morning, why are you fighting people at bars?" your stomach churned, curiousity filled your mind as you stared at the man who made you want to become a hero doing something as crazy as fighting as innocent civilian.

he chuckled, a smirk making its way on his face. "just living the life, sweetheart."

you let out a sigh. "living the life is not-" he turned around as he continued walking in the opposite direction of you. "where are you going?!"

"home."

"your house is this way." you stopped, pointing behind you as he looked back at you.

Eventually, he decided that you were correct despite it taking twenty minutes to come to that conclusion. he laughed, "oh what would i do without you sweetheart?" you gave him a nervous smile as you two continued to his house. you never thought that you would be walking takami keigo home after all that had happened.

"hawks, where's your key?" you looked at him, puzzled. "i thought you kept a spare under the mat?"

he shook his head. "no no, don't want any burgulars to get in babe."

you bit your lip, your heart beating faster the longer you stood here with him. "well where is it then?" he shrugged his shoulder, a cocky grin on his lips. you took a deep breathe in, forgetting home annoying this bird could be at times. you reached for the door handle, attempting to see if your old key would still work with these locks. although, despite what hawks had just said, the handle twisted, opening the door with ease.

you ushered him inside, turning on the lights to the large kitchen the two of you had walked into. being in this house was like walking down memory lane, although for you it was not such a good memory. it didn't matter, you were leaving soon. you'd be home soon. if you could just make it through a few more minutes, then you would be fine and never have to see him again.

hawks stumbled his way into the living room that connected with the kitchen, promptly taking off his blood stained hoodie. underneath was one of the compression shirts you bought him a long time ago, you were shocked it still fit him. he glanced back at you and spoke, his words slurred worse than they did before. "like what you see, baby?"

you rolled your eyes before clearing your throat. "i really should be leaving now hawks, it was nice seeing you."

a pout formed on his lips. "leaving already?" he mumbled as he stepped closer to you. you tried as hard as you could to keep the smile that was on your face the closer he got to you, but that smile quickly faded when he put his hands on your hips. "let me thank you for taking me home~" he cooed, his eyes staring at your lips.

you put your hands on his chest, keeping him from making an advance. "hawks.." you stared at him in disbelief. "i have a boyfriend, there's no way you don't know that, it's everywhere."

he rolled his eyes, his hands grabbing onto your wrists. "so? that bozo will never be as good as me, you know that baby~" his head dipped down to your neck making your body freeze up. before he could press his lips against you skin, you shoved him away from you. your shock and disbelief turned into anger as your expression change drastically.

your eyebrows furrowed, your voice rasied as you spoke. "stop it hawks!" your blood boiled as he rolled his eyes once again, that stupid grin on his face while he tripped over his own feet stumbling back towards the living room.

if only you had just left. if only you hadn't seen him at all, you night would've been so much better. you couldn't help but bring up the past as your mind grew fuzzy, your anger consuming you. "this is just a game to you! it's always just been a stupid game!" he stopped walking, hanging on to the marble counter for support. "toying with my feelings will always be so entertaining to you," you shook your head. "you used me again and again as just another one of your fuck buddies!" you grabbed a small vase, throwing it at his back.

he could've dogded it, but he didn't, letting a few glass shards pierce his wings and his back. "i loved you so much and you knew that!" you screamed, your voice couldn't handle it as it began to crack, tears welling up in your eyes. "you always knew i would be glued to you, you knew i would chase after you despite you never loving me back!" you let out a breathe you didn't know you were holding. "well you know what hawks? i'm happy now, i have someone who treats me right, treats me the way i deserve to be treated. and i couldn't ask for anyone better." tears flowed down your cheeks as your lips quivered, your face burning as your throat begged for water.

there was a moment of silence, tension and anxiety floating throughout the air. his wide eyes met yours, his voice cracking as he whispered. "is that what you think..?" his reaction to your words was something you never would have expected. his face was red, his mouth agape, his brows furrowed. all while a few stray tears fell from his eyes. keigo was..crying?

no. hawks doesn't cry. you had never seen him brought to tears before, not even when you left him. you shook your head in disbelief once more. "look at you now, acting like me leaving you was the worst thing to ever happen to you." you chuckled. "you can't manipulate me anymore hawks.

those few extra words you spoke made more tears fall down his cheeks, his chest rose and fell quickly, his breathe erratic. "y/n..." your name. he used your name? you couldn't remember a time when he did say your name. "you think this is an act?!" he raised his voice, leaving you almost paralyzed where you stood. a pit formed in your stomach as he continued. "i can't live without you y/n! i've been going insane without you here by my side!" he grabbed his chest, his voice hoarse and cracking at almost every word he spoke. "y'know something i've realized in this year you've been gone," he paused. "i don't..want to live without you." he let out a shaky breathe, his lips quivering. "i can't breathe without you, i need you. i need you like i need oxygen to survive."

this wasn't manipulation, it was his feelings in their most raw form. his words came straight from his heart, and that was something you never knew keigo could do. it was as if the inner workings of takami keigo's brain were layed out on the table like a blueprint to a building. "keigo..." you let out a breathe.

"nothing i did back then was the right things, and i know that. i know how stupid i am for treating you the way i did, i took you for granted."

keigo inched closer.

"my pride, my shitty personality, my fucked past, i let it get in the way."

another inch.

"i fucked up, i fucked up big time, and i'll never be more sorry for anything else i've ever done then what i did to you."

another inch.

"my fear of losing the person i love most got to me, i didn't want to care so i couldn't get hurt. but i ended up loving you in ways i never knew i could."

you couldn't move, the words of the man you love freezing you in place. he crept close, slowly wrapping his arms and wings around you, making sure you were okay with the intimacy. his hand cupped the back of your head as he pulled you close, the way his arms felt around you made you never want to leave. "but i don't deserve you." he whispered in your ear. "that dynamight kid deserves you, he's a great kid i've known him for a long time."

your mouth hung open, the tears from your cheeks dripping into the floor. your breath grew heavy, your puffy eyes making your vision blurry. he let you out of his embrace, his hand now on the top of your head, smoothing back your messy hair. you looked up at him as his lips pressed against your forehead. his smile, a real, genuine smile formed on his lips. "k-keigo.." a mutter fell from your lips, that's all that would come out.

“i’m really glad i got to see you again, even if it might be the last. please stay happy for me, okay?" he slid around you, opening up his door leading to the darkness of the night under the moonlit sky.

your eyes followed him, your mind fried from the string of emotions you had been through tonight. it was too much, it was painful. your heart ached. he wasn't what you thought he was.

he wasn't arrogant. he wasn't manipulative. he wasn't toying with you. he was just broken. he loved you the only way he knew how- by pushing you away. and now that he was in a state where he could just blurt his feelings out, he could finally say was he was truly feeling all this time.

but what were your true feelings?

"i love you.." you voice was soft, as light as a feather in the wind.

keigo's expression shifted from one of pain, to shock from your words. he replayed them in his mind trying to ration out if they were real or not. his hand let go of the door, letting it close gently on it's own.

it was sudden, with only a few steps your hands cupped his face as your lips met his. instinctively, his hands fell to your hips, keeping you as close to him as possible. the kiss was sloppy, passionate as his callous hands began to explore your body. your heart pumped, your cheeks burning as your lips pushed against each others in the most impatient way, as if you two had been waiting for this moment.

he finally pulled back for a breathe, his nose touching your own as he spoke softly. "what about your boyfriend?" his eyes locked with yours, awaiting an answer from your soft lips.

"i need you keigo, i don't want to live without you." you mumbled into his whiskey-flavored lips, now wrapping your arms around his neck. you could feel some of the shards of glass that got stuck in his back from the vase. the feel made your body heat up.

he studied you: your eyes, your lips, your body, everything about you. "who i am to say no to you, sweetheart~?" he smirked into the kiss as he didn't hesistate to pick you up by the thighs, frantically making his way over to the couch before laying you down on your back.

your lips disconnected once more as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head. you followed him actions, lifting up your shirt and taking it off. keigo took the shirt from your grasp before throwing it across the room, his lips soon trailing down the side of your neck.

taglist :: there's none at the moment but just send me a message to my inbox if you wanna be tagged :3

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Moments in Time - Jack Hughes Edition

Word Count - 3k almost

Summary: The eight times Jack Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note: Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Quinn Hughes Edition. Luke Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas.

Main Masterlist

The last thing that Jack wanted was a ring camera. He said he didn’t want the footage to somehow get leaked and his fans figure out where his apartment was. He also didn’t like the idea of every single time someone passed your apartment getting a notification on his phone. But you told him that since he’s gone so much, you would like to have a ring camera because it made you feel safer when he wasn’t home. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jack was on his phone ordering the best one that they made not without mumbling “you really know what to say to get what you want. Just so you know I still don’t like the idea.” But as time went on, although he would refuse to admit you think he kind of loved having the idea of a ring camera so that he could mess with you. 

Smacking the camera to say he’s home.

Once the camera was installed and everything was set up. Jack found funny little ways to tell you hi even if you were apart. It started as an occasional thing when he was coming home from morning skate and you were already at work. Or coming home from the gym and he knew you were out with friends. He loves to ring the doorbell and smack it. He always says the most random shit to go along with it. The first time he did it he was coming home from the dry cleaners and you were out to lunch with some coworkers. He smacked the camera and literally said “hi babe just wanted to say hi and did you know the dry cleaner broke up with his girlfriend..”  

But shortly it became a daily thing. Anytime he came home even if you were already home he would smack the camera and make a silly face and say the first thing that came to mind literally. Anything from something random that happened at practice, asking what you want for dinner, or simply “I love you babygirl, drive home safe.” as he smacks the camera before entering the apartment. Jack always said it was to annoy you and maybe it was. But he also secretly loved that no matter where you were at the time you would get a little notification. He also loves that no matter where you are at work, in a meeting, with friends, or at the grocery store you would always watch the video in the moment and send him a text as a response. It kind of became his daily way to say ‘I’m thinking of you and I love you’ even if he didn’t always say it in the moment. 

2.  A boy’s night out equals drunken moments caught on camera

You knew that Jack was going to go out for a team bonding/guy’s night thing tonight. You also knew that Jack rarely came home sober from those things when he wasn’t DD. Jack never came home at a decent hour when he went out with the boys and you found yourself choosing your own sleep rather than staying up. Tonight was no different, you did however wake up when he fell into bed practically falling on top of you in the process. “Hi baby.” he mumbled as he laid on top of you and the covers. 

“Hi Jackey, did you have fun.” softly turning he wasn’t putting as much weight on you,playing with his hair. “Baby why don’t you take your jeans off and get under the covers.” you softly suggest all you got in response was a moan of protest as Jack fully rolled off of you in his lazy drunken state take off his jeans before crawling under the covers and bear hugging you immediately falling asleep. “Night Jackey” you whispered quickly, allowing sleep to lure you back. 

The next morning, when you were making breakfast you finally had a chance to see your notifications from when you were asleep. Living in an apartment it wasn’t abnormal to see a few ring notifications about something moving by your door overnight especially on a Friday night. But what was odd, was that your doorbell rang at 3:15 AM. Deciding to watch the video that ring filmed immediately you found yourself laughing. It was a video of a very very intoxicated Jack. He couldn’t even stand up straight, of course the video started with a hello smack. But once he started attempting to talk you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Heyy babycakes!” immediately he started laughing at the random nickname he just gave you. “It’s babycakes now cause your ass is so big and cakey.” The laugh that left him, you knew affected his whole body cause he almost fell over. Even though the nickname didn’t really make much sense.

“Before you ask, I took an uber I didn’t wanna wait for Nico I needed to see ma gurrll” making one of his classy sass faces he continued “because I’m responsible like that duhhh.” He started digging through his pockets mumbling to himself all you could catch between the bad audio quality and the slurring was “keys… loooosst.. Fuck.. oopsie.” His keys now in front of his face, dangling them “found em.” Giving a big kiss to the camera and then stumbling inside before the video cut out. 

You couldn’t help the tears coming out of your eyes from laughing so hard at drunk Jack, so happy that Jack gave in to letting you both have a ring camera so you can show his brothers this next time you saw them. 

3. Improutu karokate moments  

After coming back from a run, Jack still has his blasting in his ears. His face looks exhausted after running outside in one of those rare fall heatwaves.His hair sticking to his forehead and also in a million different directions. His cheeks were a little red from sweat or the sun you weren’t sure but he looked adorable. Jack knew that you weren’t home but what he didn’t know was that you immediately opened the ring notification because you were expecting an amazon package. Thinking that there was no way you would ever see this he let himself get lost in the music in his ears and have a little karokate moment at the front door. Jack randomly breaking out into song isn’t the reason that you found yourself crying in laughter in the middle of the store. But rather it was a song he was singing that made you lose it. Once you heard the popular lyric “I’m talkin’ all around clock, I’m talkin’ hope nobody knocks, I’m talkin 'wild wild thoughts..” The fact that Jack Hughes was singing Sabrina Carpenter and having his hot girl moment in the hallway in front of your apartment you couldn’t help yourself from messing with him. 

“I thought you hated this song?” the sound of your voice scaring Jack.

“Baby Jesus you can’t be doing that! And I don’t like it.” He tries to lie but it doesn’t work and he knows it doesn’t.

“Uh huh baby you don’t have to hide your new guilty pleasure song” you tease.

“Whatever I’m going inside.” As he finally opens the apartment door and lightly slams it shows how “upset” he was at you for teasing him. 

4. Counting down the days  

It was one of those rare times when you were the one out of town and not Jack. Let’s just say Jack was not used to being home and you not being with him. In total you were only gone for 7 days having a vacation planned with your friends. Jack didn’t wanna bother you constantly with calling and texting so he came up with the next best thing “ring camera check-in time.” He actually started it as a joke when he came home from the airport after dropping you off. Accidentally ringing the doorbell on his way into the apartment saying something like “have a safe flight baby, T minus 7 days till I see you again.” and then proceeding to make the most cringey kissy sounds into the camera. He didn’t even know you would see it but since you once you settled on your seat on the plane a few hours later you did and immediately texted him about how you thought his video was adorable. So of course Jack made it a point, everytime he left his house for a morning skate, going to the store, a game or came home to give you a one sentence update on his day and how many more days to had left until you were home. Even though you didn’t always watch them in the moment when you did they immediately put a smile on your face and you were so grateful to have these little mini personal vlogs forever of Jack. 

5. Look no emotional support shoes 

Jack is known for being quick witted, both of you found yourselves constantly teasing each other about random things. One of your favorite things to tease him about was how the fans were even tired of his “emotional support Air Forces” and “emotional support Fiji water bottle.” The water bottle was an easy fix. You brought him a hydroflask off Amazon and told him “it’s time for you to be an adult Jack and use a reusable water bottle like the rest of us for emotional support.” Even Jack was surprised at how Twitter reacted to him bringing his little reusable water bottle everywhere with him. They all picked on him, still saying it was obviously his girlfriends doing and hoped you could get him to wear other shoes every once in a while. Jokingly you said on your Instagram story, that sadly the shoes will probably have to stay because he’s so physically attached to them. 

Jack was leaving the next day for a home game. Since you were still at work he had to use the ring camera to show you his suit before he left. At the moment you were able to pull your phone out at work and started watching him show you his suit. It was a basic navy suit with a white button up and black tie. But then Jack’s smile grew as he kicked one foot back to show you his shoes. He was wearing a new pair of Jordan ones with blue accents. You were in shock at your desk as you watched him reveal his shoes, truly you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing the speaker button.

“I never thought I’d see the day Jackey.”

“BABY?!” the surprise evident in his voice not expecting you to watch him in real time. 

“I’m proud of you for branching out and I know Twitter will be too.” you add the last part jokingly. 

“I gotta go. Love you, see you later.”

“Me too. Love you Jackey, see you tonight!”

6. Date Night

Jack and you both tried to have at least one date a week where you both went out for a night together. Sometimes it would be to go to the movies, a Broadway show, or even just a simple dinner. Tonight was no different, both deciding that it was time to try the new fancy restaurant down the street that just opened last month. Both of you enjoying all the fancy food, Jack enjoying their high end whiskey and you with their fancy mix drinks. 

It was just overall an amazing night, filled with jokes and laughter, flirting truly a perfect date night. The end of the night was no different, as you walked down the hallway together holding hands. As you went to dig through your purse to look for your keys to open the door, Jack couldn’t help but come up behind you and start kissing you where your neck and shoulder met. 

“You just looked so pretty tonight love” as he placed wet kisses on your neck. As you both drunkenly stumble into the apartment. Both of you have never been more grateful to have a ring camera the next morning when you realized it caught the entire moment. 

7. Online Shopping Gone Wrong

The other night you got a little tipsy and might have brought way too many packages on Amazon. It’s not that Jack would care how you spend your own money but sometimes the way he chirps you about your ‘midnight tipsy shopping sprees’ you just didn’t wanna hear it. Since you know how Jack loves checking the camera everytime he gets a “movement” notification hoping it’s you to mess with. Since you were trying to avoid the teasing this time around you didn’t want him to catch how many amazon packages you brought a few days ago. So you change the address to Luke’s apartment only to realize you have to get the amazon packages into your house. 

Deciding that the best option for sneaking the packages inside your apartment was to force Luke and Nico to help. The plan was simple: Luke will stand in front of the ring camera while you and Nico Hurriedly carry everything inside. The plan was working great for about two whole minutes, just for Jack to hear Jack’s voice startle all three of you through the camera. 

“Luke, what are you doing? I thought you said you had a dentist appointment and that’s why you couldn’t come to the gym?”

Luke was an amazing person, but he was a terrible liar and that fact has never been more clear than in this moment. His nervousness got the best of him from the moment he heard his brother’s voice he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Yeah, just stopping by to give something to Y/N real quick.” 

“Okay? what are you giving her?” Jack’s curiosity was clear in his voice. It was obvious that he didn’t believe his brother’s lie and wanted to see how far Luke would go. Fuck him for knowing his little brother so well and fuck his curious personality in this moment you thought to yourself. 

All Luke can do is give a few ums as a response to his brother. Which is exactly what lets your anxiety raise and is probably why you decided to yell “LUKE PLEASE SHUT UP!” Now you’re feeling caught in the act of not only lying to your boyfriend about your tipsy shopping spree but also wanting to kill his little brother for not being able to come up with a better lie on the spot. 

All of this is of course what leads Nico to start to softly curse in German. Of course Jack recognized his captains’ voice. “Wait Nico is there too??” At this point Nico is sighing at the floor, holding 3 packages, you slide down the front door in true embarrassment at your failed plan and Luke is as red as a lobster. So all three of you are pretending that as long as you don’t move maybe Jack will forget the entire encounter. Only for Jack to softly chuckle and go “hey baby you know you used my card for amazon right?” Lifting your head in pure shock you must have been more drunk than you originally thought. “I knew the second you placed the order. It’s also my amazon account baby, you haven’t paid for prime in years.” 

Nico and Luke immediately throw their hands up in frustration and leave you in the hallway. Surrounded by packages and some were pretty heavy. Although you couldn’t blame them you would have left yourself too if you were them. Although you were a little sad that they didn’t speak to you for a week and didn’t even answer a group chat if she happened to be in it. After being salty for a week, they are more annoyed at themselves for trusting Y/N to come up with a plan in the first place because she’s the same girl who spent months planning Jack a surprise birthday party. Only to accidentally send an evite to Jack. 

   8.) Matching OOTD

Jack’s favorite thing when he’s home is matching his outfit with you.He loves your style and even he knows you have better shoe game then he does. But that doesn’t stop you from yelling at him to please leave the emotional support Air Forces Ones at home for one evening! Jack didn’t only love your thoughts on his fits, but he loved matching with you. He says that it’s just another way of people knowing that you're his and he finds it kind of hot. Plus he loves how happy you get when you can match shoes or even a simple sweats. When on the road he found himself missing your little routine of getting ready together. So everyday on your way out the door, you ring the camera and record your little outfit of the day. He tries his best to match some way even on roadies in some little way because it helps him feel closer to you. 

It slowly becomes Jack’s favorite thing about the day when the notification comes on his phone that you’ve left the apartment and recorded your fit. He always sends back a little video (sometimes with Lukey or Nico in it depending on the day) of his outfit choice as well. He loves on the rare day when he’s away that he can match with you even if it’s from across the country, and even when it’s as simple as wearing the same color shirt. Somehow this little act you guys have has helped the long roadies feel shorter and both of you have become grateful for this little daily ritual you’ve created. 

[winchesterwild78]

Hunters and Secrets pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (dating), Sam Winchester x Reader (friends), Eileen

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT

A/N: Had to get out of my head today, so I wrote the 2nd part. The 3rd part is coming soon too. Things are just so crazy right now in my head, I needed to write. I truly appreciate all of your love and support with my writing. 

This is a short series I’m working on. Does not follow the Supernatural storyline. Inner dialogue in italics. This is a work of fiction, not a reflection of real life. No disrespect to anyone. 

This is my own work, please do not take it or copy it without my permission. I wrote it fast and edited it fast. Please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Weeks had passed since the vampire hunt with the boys. The three of you were taking a much needed break in the bunker. You and Dean had noticed Sam was leaving the bunker more and would come back at odd hours of the night. 

“I think he’s seeing someone, Dean. I bet it’s Eileen.” You snickered while laying in his arms. “Well, good for him. She’s nice and can keep Sam in line. He deserves what we have.” He pulled you close. “I agree, but please don’t play big brother and interrogate him.” “What?! Me, never.” Dean chuckled. 

It was about 2 am when you crawled out of bed and went to get some water. You heard the bunker door open as softly as it could and soft footsteps come down the staircase. You stepped into the war room and waited. 

“Samuel Winchester, you’re home after curfew.” You laughed as you turned on the light. Sam jumped, “Ha ha, very funny. You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.” You laughed, “Sorry Sammy, but what’s got you sneaking in here at 2 in the morning?” You inquired. “I’m not sneaking.” He responded defensively. 

You smiled at him “Sam, whoever she is, I’m happy for you, we’re happy for you. You of all people deserve to be happy.” You hugged him. “Yeah, thanks Y/N. I appreciate it. We’ve been seeing each other for over a year now. Honestly, I’m in love with her.”

“Wow, Sam, that’s great. How does she feel about you?” You felt a pang of sadness and jealousy in your heart. Sam could say “I love you”, why couldn’t Dean? “Well, she loves me too. We both said it tonight. It took us completely by surprise. We had just…um..well, you know.” You nodded in understanding. “She was laying in my arms and I said it, then she said it. It was perfect.” 

“Oh, Sam. I’m happy for you. Now, who is it?!” You asked enthusiastically. “Um, well it’s Eileen.” “Ha! I knew it. I told Dean it was.” “What!? How did you know?” “Sam, we’ve practically grown up together, I know when you’ve got feelings for someone. It’s okay, your secret is safe with me.” You smiled, hugged him and walked back to your shared room with Dean after saying good night.

When you walked back into the room and saw your boyfriend sleeping peacefully on the bed. A pang of sadness filled you when you thought about Sam and Eileen confessing their love for each other. You knew Dean loved you, you just wished once you could hear him say it. 

Crawling back in the bed, you laid on your side with your back to him. Silent tears fell from your eyes and started to soak your pillow. Dammit, get yourself together, Y/N! He loves you, deeply and truly. You don’t need him to say it. He shows you he does every day. Of course, hearing it would just mean so much to you. Even if he said it once. To hear him utter those three words. 

You continued crying softly while arguing with yourself about the need to hear him say “I love you”. Eventually you stopped and fell back asleep. 

Dean woke up earlier than you. He looked over at you sleeping beside him. Your face was etched with pain. A sliver of light danced across your face and he saw dried tears on your cheeks. His heart filled with sorrow. Why didn’t I hear her crying, and why was she crying? God I hate seeing her like this.

Dean slowly pulled himself out of bed, trying not to disturb you. You shifted in your sleep, gave a soft, sad, moan and rolled over. Dean stood there staring at you for a few minutes, then left the room. 

His bare feet padded down the hallway, towards the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table drinking coffee. “Hey ya, Sammy. What time did you get in last night?” Sam looked up from his coffee and said “About 2, did Y/N not tell you?” “She’s still sleeping, did she get up when you got home?” “Yeah, she scared the shit out of me when I came in. I wasn’t expecting her to be standing there.” Dean chuckled, “Yeah, no, she must have been planning to tell me she saw you when she got up. Hey, Sam, did she say anything to you? Like anything that’s bothering her? I noticed this morning she’d been crying.” Dean asked with concern in his voice.

Sam stood there thinking about your conversation, reality hitting him like a ton of bricks. “No, we chatted for a second and then she went to bed. She didn’t say anything or give me any indication something was wrong.” Sam knew. Of course he knew what was wrong. He told you that he and Eileen said “I love you” and he knew his brother had never said it to you. You acted like it didn’t bother you, but he knew deep down it hurt you. Everyone knew Dean was in love with you, but everyone knew it was hard for him to say it. Even to Sam, he couldn’t say it. 

Dean ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Okay, thanks man. So, what brought you home so late?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. Sam looked at his brother and laughed. “Dean, you’re such a child. I was out with a friend.” “Does this friend have a name?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Yes, she does. It’s Eileen. Are you happy, Dean?” Dean slapped Sammy on the back in a congratulatory way. “I am Sammy. You deserve to be happy, we both do.” “Yes, Dean, we all deserve to be happy.” Dean looked at Sam a little confused when he emphasized “all”. 

“What do you mean by that, Sam?” “Dean, we both know you love Y/N. What I don’t understand is why can’t you tell her?” “What are you talking about, I tell her that all the time.” “No you don’t Dean, you’ve never said those words to her, hell to anyone.” “Why do I have to say it? Aren’t you the one who always says “actions speak louder than words”?” “Yes, but sometimes it means something to actually say the words too.”

Dean got more irritated standing there. “I don’t have to defend my relationship with her to you or anyone. She knows I love her!” Sam threw his hands up in defeat, “okay, Dean. I won’t say another word.” Dean growled and walked out of the kitchen towards your room.

You were just waking up as he walked in. “Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?” He kissed your forehead. “Okay I guess. I woke up and saw Sam come in about 2. I didn’t want to wake you.” You stretched. Dean sat down beside you on the bed with concern in his eyes. “Hey, you okay, sweetheart? It looks like you’ve been crying.” He took your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just stupid hormones or some crap. I got in my own head last night. I’m sorry I worried you. I’m okay, I promise.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips. 

“Hey”, he tilted your face up to look at him. “You know how I feel about you, right?” “Yes, Dean. I know you love me. Why? Where is this coming from?” “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just Sammy and I got into a little disagreement. It’s fine.” “Dean, you can talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?” He nodded and stood up. 

You stood up and hugged him tightly. You weren’t sure what they argued about, but part of you figured it had something to do with how he felt about you. “I’m going to jump in the shower, I’ll be in the kitchen soon.” You kissed his lips and grabbed some clothes. 

Dean got ready and walked back into the kitchen. He started cooking breakfast and Sam came back in. “Look Dean, I’m sorry. I was out of line. Your relationship with Y/N is none of my business. I know you two care deeply about each other. I’m happy you have each other.” Dean looked at Sam, “I appreciate it Sam. I get it, I have a hard time expressing myself, but I really do care deeply about her. Hell, I want to marry her one day and have some kids.” Sam turned and looked at his brother in surprise. “Damn Dean. That’s huge man. I’m happy for you, truly.” 

Dean nodded and thanked his brother. You came bounding into the kitchen and smiled at Dean and Sam. “Good morning, Sammy.” You winked. Dean chuckled, “I know about Eileen, Y/N. He spilled all his secrets this morning.” You laughed and looked at Sam “You told him everything?” Sam shot you a look and you kept quiet. 

“So what smells so good in here?” You walked over to the stove where Dean was cooking. “Bacon, of course.” You laughed. You grabbed some coffee and sat down at the table waiting for Dean to finish cooking. The three of you talked about looking to see if there were any jobs popping up, and you mentioned to Sam he should ask Eileen to come along. Dean laughed as Sam’s face turned red. 

When breakfast was done you started cleaning up the kitchen while the boys went to look for a job. You were just about finished washing dishes when Dean’s strong arms wrapped around your waist. He pulled you into him and started kissing your neck. “Dean, I need to finish cleaning.” You giggled. “It can wait. I want you.” He growled slowly in your ear. A chill went down your spine. 

Dean spun you around to face him and his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. You were pushed between him and the sink, with nowhere to go. Not that you’d want to leave his embrace. 

You moaned as he kissed down your neck and sucked on your pulse point. He took you by the hand and led you to your bedroom. As he pulled you in the room, he pushed you against the door closing it. Your hands went above your head and he held them there. Dean’s green eyes  turned dark with lust. You bit your lip. It turned you on seeing him want you so much. 

“Dean, I need you.” Dean let your hands down and pulled you to the bed. He laid you down carefully and hovered over you. His strong, calloused hands ran under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitched as his hands cupped your breasts and he tugged at your bra. 

“Lean up baby, I want to take this off of you.” You leaned up and Dean took off your shirt and unhooked your bra. “Damn you’re so beautiful, and all mine.” He pulled his shirt off, exposing his perfectly toned chest. Your hands traced his body and his lips landed on your nipple while his hand cupped your other breast. 

You sucked in air and moaned loudly. You could feel your arousal pool between your thighs and his erection pushing on you. Dean kissed his way down your body and stopped at the waistband of your pants. “Please, Dean, I need you baby.” You lifted your hips helping him remove your pants and panties. 

You laid on the bed fully exposed. Dean stood and bit his lip. “Damn I can’t believe you’re mine.” You blushed, “all yours baby, now come on.” “Yes ma’am.” Dean smiled and removed his pants, his hardened length springing free. You laid back on the pillows and leaned up on your elbows watching as Dean stalked up the bed towards you. 

He climbed between your legs, using his to move them apart. He looked down and saw your core, soaking wet and ready for him. “You’re soaked, sweetheart.” “Mmhmm” you replied as his fingers brushed over your entrance. 

He slowly stuck his thick finger in and you moaned. Moving your hips into his hand as his thumb reached up and rubbed circles on your engorged clit. “Oh, Dean. Right there baby. Don’t stop.” You bucked into him as he added another finger. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart, and soaking wet.” Dean smirked as he felt your body responding to his touch.

He moved his fingers and thumb as you moved your body into his hand. He could feel you tightening around him, “mmmm, you’re close.” Your head fell back “Dean…I’m…gonna…cum.” Your breath hitched. He moved faster, helping you chase your release. “Yeah, cum for me princess.” With that you came undone. 

Dean moved his fingers and thumb as you writhed under him. Your body became sensitive to his touch and he kept going. “Oh, FUCK, DEAN!” You came again. Dean smirked. “Good girl, I knew you could cum again.” 

As Dean slowed and pulled his fingers out you moaned at the loss of fullness. Dean pumped his hard cock a few times before he lined himself up. He lined up at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him towards you. 

He thrusted in and bottomed out. You both let out a loud moan. “Oh damn, you’re so tight, Y/N.” Your hands went to his broad shoulders and he set a steady pace. He would pull out almost all the way and slam back into you. Each thrust had you gasping for air and grabbing his shoulders. 

“Oh, Dean. You feel incredible.” You moaned. Dean leaned down, kissing your lips, so do you baby. You were made for me.” Dean picked up the pace and you could tell he was chasing his release. He worked you faster and he felt his release coming. “I’m close, sweetheart.” “I want you to cum, Dean, please baby cum.” Dean thrusted a few more times and with a grunt he came, coating your walls with his seed. 

When Dean was done, he slowly pulled out and went to clean himself off. Once in the bathroom he realized he didn’t use protection. Oh, Fuck! Why didn’t I grab a condom? Shit! Dammit. He returned to the bedroom with a washcloth and started to clean you up. You were still overly sensitive and moaned at his touch. “Sorry sweetheart, just trying to clean you up. Um, I came inside you.” 

Your head shot up and your eyes were wide. “What?! Dean, we’ve always been so careful. Shit!” Dean hung his head, “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” You took a deep breath and gently touched his face, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not just your responsibility. We will figure it out together.” You smiled and kissed his lips. 

Dean laid beside you and pulled you close to him. You grabbed the sheet and covered the two of you and laid your head on his chest. You were listening to his heartbeat and watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. His heartbeat started to get faster as the two of you laid holding each other. 

“Dean, are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.” He ran his fingers lightly over your arm and pulled you even closer. Your eyes were getting heavy. “Hey, sweetheart?” “Hmm, yeah, Dean?” “Will you marry me?” You sat up with a gasp. “What?!” Dean leaned up and smiled “Will you marry me?” “Really?” “Yes, really.” He leaned over and pulled a small velvet box from the side table. Opening it, you saw a small diamond ring. You looked at it and then at Dean. Tears filled your eyes. “Yes, yes, Dean. I’ll marry you!” You squealed with delight. Dean chuckled and placed the ring on your finger. “Oh my god, I love you so much, Dean!” “Me too, sweetheart.” 

At that moment you didn’t care he couldn’t say the three little words. He showed you he loved you in so many other ways. Tonight, you were on cloud nine. You were going to be Mrs. Dean Winchester. 

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[peachesofteal]

Farmer’s Market

This is the same pairing as Double Espresso, but you don't necessarily need to read it to read this.

Simon Riley/reader (hint of Soap/Ghost) 1.4k words Warnings-tags: inferred trauma, PTSD. Pining. Simon sees you again. This is another ramble that I wrote without editing, mind the mistakes.

Simon doesn’t know how to hold a fragile thing. He doesn’t have the stomach for love, or tenderness, or being held himself. He doesn’t know how to make his touch something of affection, and not anguish, and hasn’t known for a very long time.

Soap tried to teach him, once. Tried to hold him together and keep him from ripping apart. Tried to touch him beyond the surface, beneath his skin, to where his soul is rotted and festering, where dark scars of pain are embedded deeper than the memories that have infected his brain. 

It didn’t work. Simon knows it frustrated Johnny, but they both try not to dwell on it. It brings him shame, and he tries to push it from his mind like Johnny tried to push past the roadblock but in the end, they both failed. Johnny believes everything is okay regardless. He does not judge Simon. 

Simon is not convinced everything is okay. 

It’s not Johnny’s fault that Simon is this broken thing. Something worse than broken, actually. Something wrong. Unnatural. Like he’s died a million times over and come back worse and worse, each rebirth a fresh brand of wickedness upon his body.  He’s made his peace with it. 

At least, he thought he did. Until that day he saw you in the café. When he went running like he was still a scared child. 

Now, he’s dreaming about you. He’s dreaming about your voice, about the way the light reflects in your irises like a kaleidoscope, dreaming about the way your fingers turned the pages of the book, delicate and slow. He’s even dreaming about how those fingers might feel against in his skin, and instead of feeling horrified, he feels safe. Loved. Cherished. The dreams don’t turn to nightmares, no dark creatures crawl from the corners of his mind to gnaw on him, they don’t try to tear him apart like he’s used to. 

It's confusing and frightening. 

Maybe you were magic. Maybe you were magic, and you cast some sort of spell on him. And that’s why he keeps seeing you in his dreams, your body lit like up like a star, a heavenly glow spilling from your skin and bathing him in a gauzy cocoon of hope. 

It makes him uncomfortable. 

So, he puts you out of his mind. He saw you a single time, why is he dreaming about you? Why is the image of your face, the sound of your voice flitting through his brain at all hours of the day and night? He feels infected. 

He takes an extra-long assignment. And then another one. And then before he knows it, three months have passed, and he believes he’s been nearly successful in wiping you from his mind and memories, losing his grasp on the melody of your voice, forgetting the magic he felt when he first saw your face. He mourns it, privately. Mourns the impossible dreams and fantasies of something he knows he’ll never have, something he would never be deserving of. 

He believed he had cured himself of you. 

But, he was wrong. 

The farmer’s market felt like a dream. 

He watched you, unable to move, frozen to the spot as you leaned forward to inspect a group of vegetables, bright orange carrots with sprouts of green at their tops, eyes searching carefully for your selection, head nodding along to whatever the farmer behind the table was saying to you. Simon’s heart thundered in his chest while you exchanged money with the man and deposited your bunch of carrots in your canvas bag with a smile, carefree and easy in the warmth of the summer sun. Was he dreaming? He hadn’t been sure. He remembered needing to go the market to pick up some produce, something to last him the next week or so before he left for the next op, but suddenly, he had forgotten how he arrived here. He had forgotten what he had already purchased. He had forgotten almost everything, except for the shadow of a memory that was pushing him closer and closer to where you slowly walked in front of stalls, scanning the offerings and nodding hello to everyone you passed. 

You come to a stop in front of a flower table. He watches you trace your fingertips over the petals, longing flickering across your face, bottom lip tugging between your teeth. You seem indecisive and he wonders if you’re considering them for a lover, or a friend, someone in your life that you buy nice things for. Does anyone give you lovely things in return?

Your fingers wrap around the stems carefully, and you place the bouquet in your bag slowly, treating the blooms like they’re glass, cautious with them and ensuring they’re settled where they won’t bruise or break. Your care for their state makes his pulse flutter beneath his skin. 

You’re good with fragile things. 

He’s just about to slink away when you turn, everything slowing to a snail’s pace as you catch sight of him from the corner of your eye, recognition dawning on your face when you realize who he is. 

And then to his complete horror, your feet begin to move. You start to walk towards him, a hand extended as if to say wait. Wait, don’t go. 

“Hi.” You say. Hi. Somewhere in the back of his too thick skull he knows he’s supposed to say hi back, say hello, apologize for being a bloody creep, but his lungs feel frozen, and his throat feels tight. You wait, head tilted just so, enough to expose the satin skin on the underside of your jaw, and to his utter shock, he finds himself wondering for a moment, what that skin might taste like. What noises you might make if he put his lips there. He blinks when he realizes you’re speaking again, brain cycling to catch up to your words. “- a few months ago, right?” The café. You’re referencing the café. 

SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING. SPEAK. He’s screaming inside. Pleading with himself. 

But still, he says nothing, and then watches your sweet face melt into something confused, something wary before it shifts into an emotion he cannot name and-

You say your name. You say it slowly, moving your lips in an exaggerated fashion, like you think he can’t understand you. Your pointer finger jabs into your own chest, to reference yourself. You gave him your name. Why would you do that? He scolds you silently. He could be anyone, a sick man who wants to harm you, who wants to take things from you, things you would never give him. He could be a killer, for all you know. Why would you give a stranger your name? 

He is a killer. 

When he doesn’t say anything back, you chew on your lip and kick the toe of your leather boot into the ground, bobbing your head. Bloody hell. He’s embarrassed you. Shame scalds the back of his neck, and he averts his eyes, flicking them downwards to your bag, where the colorful group of flowers sit against your hip. You follow his gaze. 

“Here.” you rush the word out from your mouth, and pluck a stem free, pulling a brilliantly shaded orange dahlia from the bag and holding it out to him. “For you.” Your face is hopeful, wistful, like you actually want him to have the flower. This must be a dream. 

This cannot be real. 

He reaches for it. He cannot stop himself, even if he tried. Even if he wanted to, which he does not. In this moment, he really, really wants that flower. Wants to take it home, press it between a too thick book and then slip it between two pieces of glass so he can keep it forever. 

His fingers touch the stem. 

The tips of yours just barely graze his skin and he holds his breath, waiting for the nausea, for the panic to come bubbling up his throat. 

They don’t. 

Instead, something else happens. His stomach flips, but not in a sour way. His body tenses, but not in a fight or flight way. His heart, the thing that has been trembling inside his chest this entire time, skips a beat. 

This must be a dream. 

You’re three meters away when he rockets back into consciousness, mouth blurting the only thing it can manage in that moment. 

“Simon.” He calls to your back, and you stop in your tracks to face him, tiny smile tugging at your lips. 

“Nice to meet you, Simon.”