#if she wants the moon moved it will be moved!!!!!!!

[inkedells]

cowboy!logan teasing his girl when he figures out she likes him sweaty and messy from work...

[god him in this gif has me scratching the walls]

pairing: cowboy!logan x f!reader

wc: 587

Cowboy!Logan coming home to you after a long day of herding cattle.

His face is shining with sweat, his scent deliciously musky. Not far off from how he looks when he’s just orgasmed, you think, despite your best efforts not to let your mind go there. Dark denim stained with mud at the hem, his boots in a similar state. Plaid button-up tucked into a fat belt, the sleeves rolled up his thick, veiny forearms.

Yeah, you’re gonna make sure he fucks you. As soon as possible.

“Missed you, baby,” He says with the softest barely-there smile. He slides off his dirty boots by the entryway, mumbling an apology for the mess he’s causing. “And I’ll clean that up soon as I’m outta the shower.” It’s said with a grin and raised hands, as if he’s expecting you to scold him.

But you’re too busy staring at his arms.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his smile falling as he walks toward you.

“Don’t shower,” You say simply, quietly. You meet his eyes and watch his confusion transform into understanding—No, smug understanding. There’s a lump in your throat now, but you swallow it down quickly and stand up straighter. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

He’s smirking, even as he speaks. “‘Cause I’m dirty. And I stink. Don’t wanna ruin that pretty dress.” He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your body in the thin, sheer fabric. Of course, you go red in the face at his words and his scrutinizing eye, and of course, he takes it as his cue to crowd you until you’re backed up against the kitchen counter.

“But…” He starts, placing a calloused hand flat on the expanse of skin just above the swell of your breast. “You,” He pushes his fingers under your strap, “Don’t,” slides it off your shoulder, “Care.” He rushes to give your bare breast a long, firm squeeze, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he does. But then he pauses his actions to whisper teasingly, "Do you?"

You shake your head immediately, and he starts back up again. He plays with you, slow and methodical and loving, yet perfectly aggressive. Like a man. 

While you watch his hand, hypnotized, Logan is intently observing your face and subconsciously mimicking your expressions. When your eyebrows knit, so do his. When your mouth falls open, so does his. And when you’ve only just begun to lean in for a kiss, he’s leaning in the rest of the way, capturing your mouth with searing hunger as he moves his lips against you expertly.

He’ll carry you into your shared bedroom eventually. Make sweet love to you until the clouds shielding the moon settle into a low fog in preparation for the morning dew. Until you’re just as sweaty as he is, until the only words coming out of your mouth are "I love you," and, "Don’t stop," and, "Faster."

And it’s that last command which consumes him as he kneels between your legs right here, right now, stroking you over your underwear while he fantasizes about fingering you open. He'll take his time with it, do it properly, so he can fuck you as deep and hard as he wants to much later—after your greedy pussy is inevitably tired of the decorum involved with simply making love for hours. You’ll want to fuck, dirty and messy and rough, and he’ll wonder how such a sweet girl could get so drunk on cock. He would bother spitting the question at you between sharp, relentless thrusts, if he didn't already know the answer. Only for you, Logan.

a/n: my requests are open! gimme all ur ideas <3 also reblog to support ur fav authors!

[kiddiesmores]

“𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢”: 𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Schlatt takes you home from work only to end up staying the night..

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT BRO. SMUT. More afab leaned but there is the use of she/girl, Schlatt is pretty dominant here, grrrr.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: Yall. I’m so sorry for how long this took, lost my spark but I THINK I GOT IT BACK LETS GOOOOOO. Thank you @michibap for being my savior and giving me the push I needed to finish this chapter. I promise not to leave yall hanging for a month next time! (Might make it two if yall are mean to me again.) ENJOY!! I LOVE U!!! Also this picks up right where chapter two left off, to avoid your confusion.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You look up at Schlatt with a grateful smile, taking the to-go box from him and opening it to see he did, in fact, give you broccoli with your food.

“I’m not eating that by the way.” you mutter, looking up at him with a quirked brow and a wag of your finger, making him chuckle as he shut the box with a shrug. “Yknow what I said, don’t eat it and you’ll have to pay me back for it.” He jokes, watching you groan and grumble as you put the to-go box in your bag.

You fiddle with your fingers, “There’s something I wanted to uh- ask you.” you mumble, dodging his gaze by taking interest in the wine selection on the table.

“Shoot.” he shrugs.

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?”

He stares at you for a second, digesting your question. He grins cockily, “You can’t drive yet?” he teases, leaning down further and watching your mouth flounder.

“It’s a work in progress okay!”

“Sure it is. Course I can, c'mon toots.” He nods, holding his hand out for you to take which you gladly do, gathering your belongings and heading out the to-go door as he shuts off the lights.

He locks up the doors, pointing you in the direction of his truck. “Didn’t take you as a truck driving guy.” You mock, making him scoff.

“Big words with someone with no license.”

“Get off my ass? Please?”

He sucks air through his teeth, “Don’t think I will, actually.” He smirks, opening the passenger door for you with a snicker when you roll your eyes, hopping in and flipping him off as he closes the door.

“So yeah, then Maggie told Chase that she knew all about it the entire time! And that she was just waiting for him to slip up on his own!”

“Wait-wait-wait- I’m behind, aren’t they married?”

“YES BRO.”

“Good lord.” Schlatt chuckles, a hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh as you fill him in on work drama that he doesn’t pay attention to.

“How did you not know about any of this? Swear we’ve all been talking about it for like- months!” you giggle, gazing at him as he shrugs and keeps his eye on the road. “I leave that to Rosie, none of my business.” You scoff, “All of it actually, you hired him!” “I didn’t know he’d fuck Kassie!”

You both fall forward with laughter, wiping a tear from your eye as you cough out a few more giggles, noticing him turning into your complex. A small pout forms on your lips as you realize your little venture home is over when he parks in front of your building.

He squeezes your thigh for a brief moment, looking over at you softly while you stare ahead,half smiling at the evident look of disappointment on your face. “I’ll uh..walk you up?” He mutters, causing your head to turn to him, “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

You smile nervously, mumbling a small, “Okay,” as you grab your bag, jumping out the ridiculously expensive truck as he turns it off, moving to wait for you on the sidewalk.

“After you?” he asks, holding a hand out for you to hold while you giggle and take it, guiding him upstairs to lead him to your shared apartment. As you approach your place your heart pounds, slowly turning to face him with your back pressed against the cool door.

“I’m right here- good ole 416B..” you mumble, looking up at him. The moon is full, the illumination softly painting his face as he gazes down at you, all meek and small in stature, he thinks you look absolutely adorable. His thumb grazes the back of your hand, a small chuckle escaping him as he takes in your nervous eyes and smiles. “Thank you for taking me home, I really appreciate it.” you whisper, feeling him lean in closer, his breath hitting your lips as you start to do the same.

“Anytime..” he whispers back, staring into your eyes. You both linger for a moment, waiting to see what happened next. “You gonna kiss me or…?” you ask, tilting your head with a coy smile, making him roll his eyes and close the distance. Your lips mold together, holding in place for a moment before he parts only for a moment, pulling you back in for another. And another. And another.

Your tote is on the ground, arms wrapped around his neck while you lean up on your tiptoes and his strong arms wrap around your torso. A soft sigh escapes you between kisses, gasping as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw down to your neck. “Schlatt..” you whisper, eyes shut as he lightly sucks on the warm skin of your neck with a gentle groan.

“Do you wanna come in?” you mumble, eyes still closed as you feel him pull back. He stares down at you for a second, your eyes fluttering back open to meet his stare, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

It all happened so quickly.You unlock the door with haste and slam your bag down on the floor, both of you immediately kissing again and even somehow managing to wrap your legs around his waist, as he carries you to your bedroom. He steps on your roommate's dog toy, causing you both to pull apart with a yelp, quickly looking at each other before giggling, heads tilting to rest on each other to catch your breath before patting his shoulder to put you down.

You take your hand in his, guiding him to your bedroom, pushing open the door to be met with the soft lighting of the moon shining through your open blinds.

Your room was foreign to him, obviously. Accents of pinks and forest green decor scattered across your bed spread and posters. A few pieces of laundry on your floor, your backpack for class on your desk chair and a bulletin board of pictures above it, your room was for sure lived in. He found himself staring at the pictures of you and your friends you had scattered, turning to sit down at the edge of your bed and—woah.

His eyes lit up as they landed on the cat tree in the corner, inspecting it while you turned the lamp on on your bedside table. “You have a cat?” he asks, looking around the room.

You nod, “Yeah, she’s a little scared of new people, mostly guys so just give her a second! Missy? C'mere baby!” you call, hearing a muffled “meooow” from under your bed and a black and red paw swatting from underneath. “Aww there you are, come out and say hi!” you coo, pulling her from underneath and cradling her in your arms like a baby.

Schlatts eyes lit up, awwing as he scratched at the calicos head, taking her from your arms as her head digs against his hand. “She really likes you! And she is a D1 man hater!” you beam, scratching under her chin as he holds her against him with a chuckle. “Nahh, she’s a doll, just like her mom.” he quips, winking at you as your brain malfunctions.

He pretends not to notice, setting Missy down in her cat tree with a kiss to her head. You sit at the edge of your bed taking him in. His long black sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans are really doing it for you, the light stomp of his steel toed boots padding closer as he stands between you.

You look up at him, doe eyes meeting his low ones, whispering out a “Hi..” while you look up at him all pretty, making him offer you a sly smile in return before muttering back a “Hello.”

His knee digs between your legs to part them, hand cupping your neck as he leans down to kiss you again, making you whimper a bit as you lean back onto your bed, his body hovering above you. Soft smacks echo in the room, both of you hungrily nipping and biting each other's lips as your noses press together.

His hand slides down, gripping your waist, holding you in place as he grinds against your hips. You gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth with a low “Mmmf..” His grip tightens as he pulls away, a string of spit connecting you two while your eyes stare into his, full of admiration.

He returns the look with a smug smile, “I really did plan on taking you out before we did all this y'know..” he jokes, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, just get my shorts off.” “Yes ma’am.”

As he starts to unbutton your shorts you peep your kitty in her cat tree, eyes widening before stopping him from going any further. “Wait!” you squeal, standing up and lightly shoving Schlatt to the side, making him grunt and land on the edge of your bed while you make your way to the cat tree to grab Missy.

You hold her up while Schlatt looks at you with a bewildered stare, making you smile sheepishly, “Didn’t want her to see..” you mutter, opening your door and setting her down to leave, which she does, just to go and scratch on your roommates door instead. As you shut the bedroom door you shuffle down your shorts, kicking them across your floor to join your pile of dirty ones.

Schlatt chuckles, making you turn around, “What?” you question with a small chuckle of your own. He shakes his head, “Your panties are cute.” he jokes, making you look down in fear. You totally forgot you were wearing underwear with smiley faces on them.

“Oh..” you mumble, making him laugh a little harder, shaking his head and waving you back over, “C'mere pretty.” he mutters, hands wrapping around your hips to drag you into his lap. You quickly oblige, thighs falling to both his sides as his hands rest on your ass, head tilted up to meet yours and flowing back into your heated kiss from earlier. His hands grip your ass making you moan into his mouth, mewling a bit as he rocks you back and forth.

He flips you back on the bed, bulge in his jeans pressing against your core. You whine, pulling back with a small pout, noticing he’s still fully clothed. “So I get naked and you’re still in..” you look down, “Boots, jeans, and your shirt?” you tease with a smile, watching as his tongue presses to the side of his cheek while he stands up. His hands quickly shuffle with his belt, muttering a “Fuck, hold on.” as he throws it on the floor, chucking his boots off simultaneously.

You can only stare in awe as his pants come next, lost to the sea of lost clothes leaving him in his shirt and boxers. Your thighs clench, the heat between your legs feeling more unbearable every second he’s not touching you. He notices your internal struggle with a smug grin, “Let’s get your shirt off baby.” He grunts, pulling from the hem up and over your head, your tits spilling out your bra from the force.

He stares shamelessly, whispering a small “Fuck.” before demanding for you to take it off, which you scramble to do. He groans at the sight of you, chest exposed and left in your cute panties, it’s a struggle not to just pull them to the side and pound you right then and there but he knew you needed more help first.

Your head tilts with confusion as he starts to get on his knees, gasping when he presses a kiss to the wet spot seeping through your underwear. He lets out a deep sigh, hands gripping your thighs and forcing them to stay apart. He looks up, eyes searching or any look of doubt on your face, which he doesn’t find, your eyes meeting his and hazily nodding for him to continue. He smiles, sinking his face in to pull your panties to the side with his teeth, the cool air from your bedroom hitting your glistening mound, making you hiss.

He buries his face into your heat, wasting no time lapping at your wet cunt while you moan above him, head thrown back onto your soft comforter as your feet curl and legs slightly thrash. He groans into you, palms gripping your thighs to push up your legs, catching a glimpse of your sweet contorted face.

You whine at the loss of his mouth, quieting as he shushes you and spreads your legs back apart. “I need you to put your legs here,” he pats his shoulders, “and lock your legs tight around my head, I don’t want to be able to move. Do you hear me?”

You bat your lashes with a meek nod, but that’s not good enough for him. “Speak. Do you. Hear me? I need to hear you say you want it sweetheart.” “Yes, yes..” you whimper, tightening a bit when he grumbles out a rough, “Good.” before yanking your panties down to your ankles, dropping them near his pants to take home later.

“Yer so pretty like this doll..” he mutters, diving back in to lap at your folds, waiting for you to follow his instructions. You let out a shaken breath, placing one leg on each shoulder and interlocking your thighs around his face, squeezing as tight as you can to keep him landlocked in place.

You taste so good, and god it’s driving him crazy but he needs you to squeeze tighter, but he knows this is your limit. He takes matters into his own hands, squeezing your thighs to lock him in further, letting out a deep groan when he hears your pitch get higher while you moan. His hips rut into the end of your bed at the taste and sound of you, only to growl when he hears you suddenly sound muffled.

He forcefully pulls back, your legs falling from the lack of stability making you gasp, eyes bulging as you stare down at his pissed off expression. “Wh-“

“If I can’t hear you when your legs are covering my ears, you aren’t loud enough.”

You shake your head, “My roommate-“ “I don’t fuckin care about that!” he interrupts, “I need to hear that pretty voice of yours or else I'm not gonna know if you like it.”

Your eyes soften, nodding with a small “Okay..” watching as he sighs and gets back into position. Your voice is low at first, high pitched but still quiet before you see him scowl up at you, silently telling you to be louder. You huff, head tilting back as you decide “fuck it” and let the pleasure take over you, the accidental edging really doing a number on you as you rut on his face while his tongue fucks your hole. He’s trapped between your legs just as he wanted, grunting and groaning at the taste of you coating his tongue while he ruts harder into the end of the bed.

You know you’re getting closer, hands gripping onto the sheets as you grind on his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so slightly but enough to send you over the edge. He loudly laps at your gushing cunt, hands spreading your legs with ease while he looks up at you with a mischievous smile, staring into your eyes as the tip of his tongue glides between your puffy folds and lands on your clit, swirling with a playful look in his eye as you try to push him away weakly with your hand.

“Please..” you mutter, making him chuckle lightly as he presses one more kiss to your pussy before slowly crawling back up and hovering over you. “Wanna taste yourself baby?” he grumbles, watching as you nod slowly and dumb, batting your pretty lashes as his mouth gets closer to yours.

Your eyes shut as he kisses you, huffing quietly as you suck on his tongue making him groan. He feels your hand slowly slides under his shirt causing him to suck in heavily through his nose, reaching behind himself to catch it from going too far. You flinch,“Oh m’sorry-“ “You have nothing to be sorry for.” he comforts softly, lips moving to kiss your neck.

He struggles internally, brain rapidly reminding him not to sink his teeth into your skin, not trying to mark any visible places to avoid your embarrassment at work. Instead, his lips trail to your tits, sucking and nipping on your left while his hand gropes your right. He alternates, leaving a trail of hickeys down the valley of your breasts while gazing hungrily up at you through high lashes, laying his tongue flat against your nipple.

Your sweet gasps and huffs rile him up further, finally deciding you’ve had enough when you stare down at him with your eyes just as hungry as his. He stands back up, peering around the room scratching his head sheepishly, “You got a rubber?”

Your eyes widen for a moment with excitement, nodding and pointing to your bedside table, watching as he hovers over you and presses his bulge against your aching core while he rummages hrough your dresser, wicked grin on his face when he hears your high pitched mewl.

He finally finds one, looking you in the eye as he rips the package open with his sharp teeth, watching your chest rise and fall with labored breaths as you both anticipate what is to come.

He lets out a deep shaky sigh, head falling against your shoulder for a split second making your head turn to look at him confused, “Are you okay?” you whisper gently, hand cupping his nape, nails lightly scratching his hair. He nods into your shoulder, “I’m nervous as shit.” He gripes, causing a loud laugh to shoot out of you while you coo playfully, watching the faux scowl on his face form when he looks at you.

You aww, kissing his nose, “Coulda fooled me..” you mutter, pressing another quick kiss to his lips, “Take your time..”

“Mnn..” he mumbles against your lips, free hand slipping down his boxers while he has you distracted. He grins as you pepper sweet little kisses on his cheeks, turning away to look down between your bodies as he lines up between your legs. You peep down as well, catching a glimpse of how big he truly is, muttering a small “Damn.” making him stifle out a laugh.

“That gonna fit?” “We’re about to see.” he jokes, slowly sinking the tip in making you both let out a deep groan. A trembling whimper escapes you, toes flexing as he slowly pushes deeper with a small shush in your ear, “You’re doing so good, just a bit more, can you take it?” He purrs, nipping your lobe, only receiving a rough grunt from you in response.

He tsks with a slick grin, “Words pretty, use your words.” He teases, pinching your hip slightly making you yelp, “Yes.” you hiss we he captures your lips once more, slowly bottoming out inside of you taking the air out of your lungs.

“Buuuhhh..” you let out while he sucked on his teeth, “Fuuuuck, see baby, shit- knew you could take it.”

He holds still for a moment, knowing if he moved he’d bust immediately. His face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and mouthing at your skin, kissing up your jaw to your lips and resting his forehead against yours.

He takes another beat before whispering, “You ready pretty?”

“Uh-huh.” “Uh-huh,” He mocks, sliding out slowly with a sharp hiss and pressing back in with a deep groan, hands tightly gripping your hips as his mouth hangs open and his brows pull together. “Gonna move again baby okay?”

You start to nod, but you hear the click of his tongue, remembering he wants to hear you say it. “Okay..” you breathe, whimpering when he mutters a gruff “There’s my girl,” before slowly thrusting in and out. You felt insanely dizzy, trying to quiet your pathetic moans when your ears filled with the sounds of your slick and his harsh grunts and low groaning.

His hands roam from your hips to your stomach, feeling the bulge as he begins thrusting all the way in, losing his control a bit as he gets more riled up. Your feet flex, moans airy and high pitched as your eyes remain squeezed shut, which simply won’t do for him.

He takes one hand and brings it to your jaw, holding your face in front of his as he slips a finger in between your pouty lips, “Open those eyes for me pretty, let me look at ya..”

He doesn’t miss the way your teeth grit to hold back from yelling out from the immense pleasure he’s giving you, landing you a slap on the side of your thigh, “Don’t fuckin hold out on me.”

His thumb bullies its way in your mouth, pressing on your tongue and watching you suck, keeping eye contact as you withdraw with a lewd ‘pop,’ throwing your head back with a drawn out moan. You weakly shake your head, catching yourself when you remember Brooke in the opposing room. “C-can’t,” you pant, “My roommate-“

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t fuckin care, let me hear ya.” He mutters, hands pushing up the bend of your legs to press them into your chest for a deeper angle. You can’t help but feel dizzy, throwing out your logical thinking and doing as he asks, gasping as he straightens your legs and holds them with an arm and resting your feet on his shoulder. He keeps you steady, huffing as he plunges into your dripping cunt with a hot kiss to your ankle, a proud grin on his face as you shamelessly moan out his name.

His head falls back, feeling you tighten around him, “Fuck- you look so pretty under me. Tighten up around me one more time like that shit.”

You’re a babbling mess under him, head spinning as if it’s on cloud nine, your body going lax in his grip. You know you can’t hold out much longer, all the while Schlatt’s teeth grit, determined to get you to cum before he does. You whimper about how close you are, hands clutching the sheets beneath you while he chuckles and presses in further, “What did I say baby, don’t hold out on me, come on. Come for me.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, your back arching as you call out for him. He’s not far behind, pressing as deep as possible and grunting loudly as he cums. He holds you there for a moment, basking in the feel of your pulsing core around him while he empties his load.

You both pant as he pulls out with a gruff sigh, lowering your legs and hips back down onto the mattress. He coos as you weakly rub your aching hip, pulling off the extremely full condom with lidded eyes as he stares down at you. He starts to tie it, but your stomach looks too bare.

It’s almost like clockwork, absentmindedly pouring his load onto your stomach and smearing it around with his thumb with a wicked grin on his lips when you mewl at the stickiness.

He falls next to you, hand cupping the side of your face as he asks if you’re okay, allowing you to catch your breath. You nod, sleepy eyes peering at him, “M’fine, are you staying the night?”

He blinks, thinking for a second, “Wasn’t planning on it but, might as well yeah?” He teases, finger lightly tickling under your chin making you giggle and clumsily swat his hand away.

The longer you lay there the ickier you feel, face scrunching whenever you try to roll over and feel his cum drying on your stomach. He makes you direct him to your bathroom, lifting you and carrying you inside so you pee. He sifts through your cabinet for a wash cloth, soaking it in warm water as you watch him from the toilet. He kneels to wipe at your stomach, a bit of his cum still wet to catch on his thumb.

He offers it to your puffy lips jokingly, which you take and lick off with a soft stare, making him groan a bit, grumbling out a “You minx,” before wiping the dried cum off with the wet towel.

When he finishes cleaning you up you hobble back to the bedroom in search of your phone, legs wobbling and causing him to chuckle as you resembled a baby deer.

Your phone lights up under the pile of discarded clothes, squinting when the brightness blinds you. You’re greeted with a string of texts, all from your roommate.

Bookie 🍓:“WHO IS DOING THIS TO YOU???”

Bookie 🍓:“A MAN IS DOING THIS?”

Bookie 🍓:“IS IT SCHLATT?? -CHARLIE”

Bookie 🍓:“EWEWEWEW YUCKKK (congrats) YUCKKKK”

Bookie 🍓: “Heard you say you want to be quiet because I’m here, thanks for thinking of me when bro is laying pipe ❤️”

Your face contorts, full of horror and slight amusement as you quickly type back about a million apologies for the noise and a promise to tell her all about it tomorrow.

Schlatt watches with confusion as his arm hangs sleepily above his head, watching you knock on the shared wall three times and receiving three back from the opposing side.

“What’s that all about?” he mutters, watching you turn back to look at him with a shy expression. “Just sayin sorry..” you mumble, shushing him as he cackles loudly, wiping a fake tear and opening his arms telling you to “Cmere.”

You crawl over to him, resting on top of him while he pulls the blanket to cover both your bodies. He lazily strokes your back, lightly pecking at your shoulder as you hum against his chest.

The two of you lay in silence for a bit, nuzzled in each other's warmth even when he turned you both to the side. He sighs deeply, making you sleepily look up at him with a confused stare. He shakes his head, “Gotta be up at 6 to be back at the store.” he grunts, lightly chuckling when you grimace with a small “Eugh.”

“Should probably get some sleep then yeah?” You joke as his thumbs stroke your hips, softly nodding before offering you one last kiss against your lips before the two of you fall asleep in each other's hold, faces pressed into each other's necks and breathing in your scents.

The next morning his alarm blares, causing you to flinch while he lazily reaches over to silence it. He grunts out a “Mornin’,” kissing your forehead. You hum sleepily, whining as he shuffles unwillingly out of your grasp with a light shush. He yawns and stretches as he stands, eyes tired as he tries to find his discarded clothes on the ground, muttering a low “Fuck!” when he steps on one of Missys toys, making you giggle.

“You gotta get this shit under control.” he glares, scoffing when you shrug with a teasing smile. He shakes his head as he dresses, feeling your eyes on him the entire time. “So about that date,” he starts, forcing his boots on, “There’s this diner I like downtown,” he looks at you over his shoulder, “You okay with breakfast for dinner?”

You smile sweetly with a nod, “That sounds perfect.”

He beams at you, standing and walking over to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your lips and stroking your cheek with his hand. “Good, I’ll grab ya around 8.”

You nod, kissing his palm as he slides it away from your face. He grabs his keys and wallet from your bedside table, walking to your bedroom door, “Get some more rest sweetheart, I’ll see ya tonight.” He reaches down to grab your panties from the night before, pocketing them with a sly grin.

“Have a good shift!” you mumble rolling your eyes playfully, sleepily waving goodbye with a tired smile which he returns, shutting your door behind him. There he met with Charlie, also saying bye to your roommate.

The two stare at each other for a moment, Charlie with a stupid shit eating grin and Schlatt with an expressionless stare.

He sighs as Charlie follows behind him, ignoring his snide comments about the two of you as they head out the door.

“Sooo, you and y/n huh?” he teases as he follows Schlatt down the stairs. Schlatt scoffs, “Bring it up at work and you’re dead.” He threatens, jaw tightening.

Charlie raises his hands in defense, “Heard!” he laughs, splitting ways on the way to his car as Schlatt heads to his truck.

Schlatt turns back before Charlie gets into his car, calling out for him, “But between us,”

He turns to look back at Schlatt, seeing the pleased smile on his face, “I like her a lot.”

Charlie smiles back, arms crossing as his head tilts, “You don’t say?”

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪ Worldwide - Big Time Rush

I'm gonna be honest- these episodes kind of fell apart while I was making this. The more I re-wrote the story for it's second draft the less this version made sense and the less interested I was to work on it. I have not much else to say except sorry this part is kinda iffy and sorry it took so long. I promise you I'll make up for this in the next episode I PROMISE

Notes on both episodes under the cut!

Sweden Sour

* (I think it’d be really funny if Cody just doesn’t talk at all this episode. Not a word. Just nods and head shakes and depressed faces.)

* Cody’s incredibly depressed after Noah’s elimination. Sierra’s over the moon, though. She sees Cody depressed and gives him a tight side hug, petting his head. She tries consoling him with “I know you’re sad, but it’s ok! At least I’m still here~.” Cody starts sobbing, head in hands. Heather is sick of this already.

* The teams get their “ibuilda” pieces and the Amazons argue on what it’s supposed to be. Cody stares at the pieces for a few seconds before the light briefly re enters his eyes. He starts building. Courtney tells him to stop but Heather tells her he’s obviously got it, so let him work. They start helping him build… something.

* Once the Amazons are done, Heather, Sierra and Courtney take a step back to see what they’ve built. It’s a giant wooden Noah head. Their faces drop. Heather is filled with murderous rage.

* We built Noah’s face (We’re gonna take first place) Cause we built Noah’s faaaace

* Tyler’s jumper would be white.

* Cody doesn’t sing in this number. Chris notices and stares at him threateningly. He reluctantly hums the chorus and Chris takes what he can get.

* (Alejandro takes off his shirt to pull the boat like a freak. Duncan is unfazed and Tyler will deny it if you ask him if he blushed.)

* Sierra hits Noah’s Head hard enough it falls over on its side and suggests sawing off the side to ride in him like a boat. Heather and Courtney agree to this. Cody has no comment.

* Duncan and Alejandro don't bother bending over backwards to please Tyler. Duncan makes himself captain and no one argues.

* When the Amazons go to pick a captain, Courtney grabs the hat and declares herself captain without input. Heather tries to argue but Courtney argues back- Cody is in no condition, no one trusts Sierra and Heather took control the last challenge so this time she’s in charge. Heather reluctantly backs down.

* Amazons catch up to team Chris in the water. Alejandro sees them approach and makes note of Cody’s face, making fun of him for being so upset about “the Noah thing”. Cody furrows his eyebrows and points furiously at Chris’s boat. Courtney agrees that yes, they should shoot their boat.

* It doesn’t matter who wins the challenge since it’s a non elimination round, but I want to say the Amazons persevere. The massage helps Cody enough that he’s not stone faced next episode at least.

Aftermath III (Aftermath Aftermayhem)

* Gwen, Owen and Noah are introduced together. Gwen walks out first and Owen, hugging Noah to the point of lifting him off the ground, walks behind her.

* Geoff asks what all that’s about and Gwen responds that Owen refused to let him go until Noah “understood just how sorry he was”. Noah insists he forgives him, but Owen still won’t let him go.

* The Owen square is replaced by the Tyler square. The prompt is survive. (The hosts throw a bunch of debris at the contestant for thirty seconds and if they dodge everything they move on.)

* (For brevity’s sake, assume all of the contestants that participated in the board game in the original episode participated here [with the exception of Tyler, who is replaced with Owen]. They all get eliminated the same way as well, Noah getting got by aliens, Owen falling down the booby trap square and Beth making it to the final question.)

* When Beth gets stumped on the last question (What was Duncan's band called) Noah yells at her, frustrated: “Oh my- It’s Der Schnitzel Kickers, Beth!!” Confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling.

* (He knows this because Cody had mentioned it in a conversation after the London challenge.)

* Noah initially complains about winning the game, but Owen reminds him that he gets to see Cody again and he shuts up immediately.

* “Noah wins!” “Wasn’t he disquali-” “NOAH WINS!! Let’s wrap it up. We’re done here.”

[mehiwilldoitlater]

*throws a mooncake into your inbox* part 2 of the erlang x reader fic plsssss. Let our boy pine and long from the distance. Yuan Fen just KNOWS he caught feeling and is giving him the stink eyes. Maybe reader is unaware? up to you. LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAYYY

((mooncake?....mooncake...this gave me setting...thank you!))

The mid-autumn festival, or the festival of the moon. You heard it back in your world, but you never thought that one day you would actually participate. After all, you showed some curiosity when you heard from the other monkeys that in the nearest city the humans were preparing everything for the festival, and it was natural for you to ask to be able to attend it.

What you and your companions didn't know was that you weren't the only not-so-human beings that were ready to take a free night for the Moon festival.

"And WHAT are you two doing here?!"

Yuán Fèn almost snarled at the two deities that looked so normal under their own spell and some normal robes. In front of you, Erlang Shen, THAT Erlang, and the third Lotus prince, Nezha, were just in that moment entering the city walls.

Even if under a glamour spell that made him look like a human, Yuán Fèn still held that small trait that didn't allora his tail to disappear, and it was currently moving like a snake around his torso.

"We have all the rights in the world to attend this celebration!" Said the younger one, snarling like your friend and showing some clean in his eyes.

"Of every city, this one?!"

"Yes! Something to say about it?!"

And while the two were arguing, you couldn't look straight in the eyes of the older deity. You remembered quite well what happened to that mountain in that illusion, and... well, it made you feel quite awkward since that was the last time you saw him. You played with the hem of your sleeve, looking from time to time at the man, maybe searching for a good way to green him.

"You look stunning, y/n."

Instead, Erlang couldn't take his eyes off you. Your hangu was of a sweet shade of blues and lilac; flowers aforned your hair and the silks, making you the most beautiful thing that his eyes ever laid on. But you could have been beautiful in everything to him.

Chang'e needed to be careful, because now she had a rival that night.

"oh!" You scratched your head from embarrassment, a little more nervous than before. "The dress?... it's just an old thing that a friend had borrowed me."

"The third sister?" He said it with a genuine but funny tone.

"Yeah! She said that I need to start tò Look like a lady from now on!"

"She has good taste."

He kept his tongue by making remarks about her being a Yaoguai. After all, you befriended many of them. On your behalf, you laughed a little, feeling the nervousness finally calm down. Then, you remembered that Yuán Fèn and that Sassu child were nearing a handfight, and you had an idea.

"Since we're all together, why don't we go as a group? Tò know each other better!" The looks of disbelief on their faces were priceless. "I mean, we should start to act as allies now that the time has changed. And it would be fun!"

Yuán Fèn wanted to say something. I saw your hopeful face. You really, really wanted to attend the festival without troubles, and if going with Erlang and Nezha was an option for that, then it was worth it!

"All right, if they're not against it."  Which he hopes they were.

Well, they weren't; they both agreed on the spot, and so here you all were, walking in the street, full of people, ready to start the celebrations with two deities, really important ones too, and the One that had hereditated all of Sun Wukong powers—a normal group.

What really caught your attention was the decoration around yourself: everywhere someone had hanged a lantern, on their house, on the streets, between the house and palaces. Children were running around, holding small lanterns made of carved melons, where the adults had cut shapes in the zest, then putted a candle inside. 

Music could be Heard from the taverns, in the streets, around some temples, and everyone seems busy to have a good time. Your eyes couldn't concentrate on one spot, so immediately they were caught by something else, and you were so distracted that even Yuán Fèn needed to pull you a little. And of it wasn't him; a certain child was now fully invested in the area sourranding him.

"There there! I bet they sell flying lanterns! Bián huá, led me some money so we can take a few for later!"

"Why should I? Firstly, my name is Y/n, and secondly, you have to ask for them!"

"Hey! Have you forgotten who I am? I can turn you to-"

"To nothing. Because if a certain emperor find out you both sneak here, you're in big trouble!"

It was funny seeing Nezha act like a brat with someone that didn't care about his status, and of course it needed to be you.

While he kept complaining or tugging at your sleeves to get your attention on something, a small crowd got your attention. The music and the dances were blasting; a small group of musicians was playing an old song about Houyi and Chang'e, girls were launching handkerchiefs around, and boys were trying to catch them as fast as they could.

"Hey! Over there! What are they doing? What kind of dance is that?"

"That? It's a matchmaking dance." Said nonchalantly Yuán Fèn. "Of the boy can give back the handkerchief to the girl who has tossed, they may get married in the future."

"Oooh, it's cute!" You got closer to the crowd and, without even noticing, a few old ladies, maybe caught in a joyful spirit, had already caught you and dragged you inside.

"Little help here?!" You tried to call for your friend, but he was stopped by the young one.

"Just throw the thingy! Who's going to pick it up anyway?!" He laughed about it, while you just stuck your tongue out at him.

Once you did what they told you, you were free and without your handkerchief.

"Wow, those ladies are crazy about it!"

"They just like seeing young ladies march with young men, even strange things like you!"

"Careful, or I'll ruin your makeup, boy..." The both of you were now making faces at each other, to the dismay of Erlang and the joy of Yuán Fèn.

"so! What now?"

"We should go and pay and offer to the moon goddess; it's her festival after all."

"Allright! Let's move!"

While you, Yuán Fèn, and Nezha started moving, you hadn't noticed a Swift of Wind between the crowd. When you turned around, Erlang was adjusting his robe and hair.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Ah yes. Sorry, I was just...thinking."

He deliberately avoided the monkey glare; the only one who knew that had noticed maybe.

///

After you all had offered the incense, prayed for some good fortune, and paid respect to the goddess, you all decided that it was the right moment to stop and enjoy some dinner.

"Why don't we stop here? It seems nice!"

"I wouldn't mind some crabs."

"I'm starving!"

If it wasn't just for the small details that the place was crowded like nowhere, it would have taken hours to eat something! And you still wanted to participate in other events! Especially when the lanterna would have been left free in the sky to fly! You bought a few without Nezha knowing—a small surprise for him. Your mouth started tò watering while you saw all of those plates full of food and delicacy moving between table to table, and you were really beginning to think that losing at least the lion dance could not be such a terrible idea.

Until you noticed the monkey and the boy eyes fixed on the door that seemed to lead to the kitchen. There, your thoughts start tò running.

"You really shouldn't do that!"

"They won't notice!" Said Nezha, ready already to sneak in.

"We'll leave a few dollars, so it won't be a real robbery. What do you think?" Yuán Fèn winked at you. Just before taking the form of One of the waiters was alongside Nezha, making his way towards the kitchen. You blushed a little, still a little uncostimed by his new-found cockiness that accompanying tò Bajie was provoked by his mind now clear about his love towards you.

"Yuán fèn or Sun Wukong, they won't change. Troublemakers Deep in Their Heart." Erlang sighed, observing the scene.

"I like him this way... He may be a troublemaker, but he got a big heart."

The deity couldn't shake that pounty feeling in his heart when he saw with what gaze you were looking at the monkey. Deep, really Deep, he wished that you could have spared those dreamy eyes for himself. Such a selfish desire, but he was selfish inside...

"I never got the chance to thank you properly for what you've done for me back there." You started again to play with your sleeve, looking at your feet with some shyness that, in his eyes, made you more precious than ever.

"You don't have to. It was my duty to do so."

"I know, but...thank you...for everything."

And there it was again—that damn smile. That smiled so full of kindness and life that virtually you could possess, one smile that could break everyone's heart, especially Erlang's. He looked at you fondly and started to search for something in his robe.

"Y/n, please, I would."

The screaming of the owner echoed in the crowd. Laughs and screams started, and two troublemakers were running out from the restaurant, holding some food and wine.

"THEY'RE NOT THAT GENEROUS!"

///

You were able to get away from the owner fast enough, and, with your spoiler, you were able to find a nice spot. Next to the river, the boat, all of them decorated with more lanterns, seemed like a celestial vessel with reflections on the water. The light played on the surface, the colors shone like the aurora, and the moon, now high in the sky, set herself to be admired by mortals, Yaoguais, and celestials on that peaceful night.

Everything was just nice, with some food, wine, and good friends. 

After a while, you and Nezha standard up and get closer to the river bank to spot more interesting lanterns, leaving Yuán Fèn and Erlang alone and together.

The night was peaceful, but between the two of them, the tension seemed palpable, and the brother of them wanted to open their mouth to speak up. Erlang proved no animosity towards the monkey; he had made sure of that, but it wasn't like he liked him anyway. But he was sure that that night, the monkey really didn't enjoy his presence at all.

"If you have something to say, then talk. Don't ruin the night with this."

"Then give me the handkerchief."

Erlang stopped tò eating his crabs. His expression seemed calm, for now.

"I can smell it from here. Hand it over."

"Are you afraid of some silly mortal tradition?"

"I'm afraid that another stunt from you will cause some damage that I REALLY don't want to fix."

Erlang was sure that Heard a well-hidden snarl from the monkey. He enarched his eyebrow, looking at him with an inch of doubt.

"I'm Sorry?"

"I could smell it... your scent that day... She was soaked in it."

"I tended to her for weeks. Is normal?"

"She told me you kissed her."

He didn't retract this time, preferring to avoid the angry eyes of the companion, while his first became White.

"...she told you?"

"She wanted to come clear to me, and so I am to you. Do not do anything that you would regret."

He chuckled, ignoring the desire of the monkey to just grab him and destroy him.

"It's a treat?"

"It is, if you'll go over the line. I want to protect her from what can hurt her, especially deities that can't keep their eyes on the ground? She already told me she loved me; she doesn't need confusion now."

Erlang couldn't hold a smile. He always loved some good challenges, but you weren't one. Or, at least, you were already being won.

Yuán Fèn stood up, readjusting his scarf and his neck.

"I won't tell you to stop your feelings; I can't do that. I just ask you to be concederate for your own well-being."

He reached his hand towards him, mimicking the gesture of handing over that small piece of silk. That monkey... he could be so cruel, even against a small and harmless tradition.

He gave it to the monkey, observing that stupid and small thing disappear in the monkey pocket. Before leaving to reach you and Nezha, the monkey stopped in his tracks. His eyes shining with a dark light, his teeth showing...

"I won't hesitate to destroy you to keep you with me...got it?"

The first thing that Erlang thought was that the Destined One and Sun Wukong looked so alike and so possessive.

When he keft, Erlang eyes kept in following him..and then you.

He now understands how It felt Houyi, something the man desired, yet he never reached.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l

[alisonwritesimagines]

You'll Be Mine and I'll Be Yours ~LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: Mihawk finally asks you to be his.

Author’s Note: Now that the live action One Piece officially announced who Crocodile and Robin is and I'm in the Skypiea arc on the anime, I am posting my drafts with my Enchanted series.

Based in my Enchanted Series

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: none, fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

“Is it bad to say that I don’t want to go home yet? Or at least not sleep just yet?” You asked Mihawk one night.

He had come back to you from being gone for so long. You hated to admit that you missed him a lot. After a dinner together, you felt like you couldn't sleep or had the feeling of wanting to go to bed. For once, you wanted to stay up.

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t know. Just not feeling sleepy right now,” you tell him.

“Then how about we take a stroll?” Mihawk asked you.

“A stroll?”

“If you’re worried about it being dangerous, don’t. I will be joining you to make sure you don’t get hurt,” Mihawk tells you.

“I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d join me even if I said no. I know you follow me to make sure I’m safe.”

“I see you finally noticed.”

“Yeah. But I’m okay with a stroll. Come on,” you tell him.

You both walked along a path side by side. The stars glowed beautifully in the sky.

“So, what does a warlord like yourself have to gain?” You asked him. The full moon shined so brightly, you didn’t need a lantern to guide your way.

“Gain from what?”

“This small village. There’s nothing really here,” you pointed out.

“You’re here aren’t you?”

You looked at him, the blood rushing to your cheeks. It began to feel a little hot to you. Damn his words always somehow got to you.

“I guess.”

“What about you? You said you were alone. What do you have to gain staying here?” Mihawk asked you.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just keep hoping my boys will come back to me.”

“Tell me about them,” Mihawk said.

“Well they’re both pirates now. One of them is just a boy who is determined to become King of the Pirates. I used to take care of him since he was a kid along with two others. And the other one is around our age. He is a captain of a pirate crew.”

“Was he your lover?”

“Yeah. He told me he’d come back but he hasn’t," you sighed softly.

“This ex lover of yours sounds like a fool,” Mihawk said.

“Why say that?”

“Because if I had a woman like you, I could never leave her and not come back,” Mihawk tells you. You stopped walking as you stared up at him.

“You don’t mean that,” you softly spoke. You didn't want your heart broken again by another pirate.

“I do. I could never leave a woman like you alone,” Mihawk said as he held your hand. You looked down at your hands before looking away.

“Maybe we should go back,” you tell him.

“If that’s what you want.”

You nodded before letting go of his hand and heading back to your home. The walk was silent besides your footsteps on the graveled path.

When you got back to your home, you felt Mihawk take your hand into his.

“Will you be mine?” Mihawk asked. You turned to face him. Mihawk got closer to you, caging you in between him and the front door.

“What?”

“Be mine? I've fallen for you Y/n. I know you have fallen for me as well. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you,” Mihawk tells you.

"I don't want my heart broken again," you tell him.

"I will never hurt you. I'd die first before hurting you," Mihawk tells you.

“Alright. I’ll be yours,” you nodded at him.

“May I kiss you?” Mihawk asked you.

“Yes please,” You nodded. Mihawk cupped your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You felt Mihawk pull his hand away from your cheek and move down to your waist. He pulled you in closer as he kissed you.

You pulled away from the kiss for air. Mihawk gently pressed his forehead against yours, taking in a couple of deep breaths as well.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You asked him.

“If you’d have me,” Mihawk tells you. You nodded before turning around to open the door. You pulled Mihawk inside before shutting the door and locking it.

When you woke up, you smelled food. You noticed Mihawk wasn’t next to you, making you sit up. You got out of bed and walked to the front to see him cooking in your kitchen.

“Nice to see you awake,” you tell him.

“Morning. Breakfast will be ready in a moment,” Mihawk tells you.

“So we sleep in the same bed together for the first time and you make breakfast? Any other secrets I should know about you?” You teased.

“It’s not really a secret. You’re mine now remember? I have every intention to spoil you,” Mihawk tells you. You smiled before walking over to him and kiss his cheek.

“Aren’t you romantic,” you tell him.

"Only for you my love," Mihawk says to you before kissing your cheek.

"So what do you want to do today?" You asked him.

"I was hoping to help you get over your fear of the ocean," Mihawk asked.

"Why's that?" You asked unsure.

"You've been cooped up in here for too long my love. I'd like to show you the world if you let me," Mihawk said.

"Okay. You're gonna have to be patient with me though," you warned.

"Of course," Mihawk said, giving you a quick kiss.

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

One thing, everything

Carlisle Cullen x female!reader

Summary: Carlisle wants only one thing for himself and you want nothing more than please him. Warnings: AGE GAP, oral sex (m receiving), mentions of vampire thirst, mentions of rough sex, mentions of creampie, cheating, pet names, unhealthy dynamics, kinda dark?Carlisle

Word count: 1033

An: just wanted to write something short for daddy. I wrote this half asleep, so if there are mistakes sorry about that.

Carlisle is sitting in his office. It’s a smaller room compared the places he owned in different hospitals, way different than his offices when he used to teach in universities. It’s gloomy and has a small window. His patients always complain about lack of oxygen in the room. When it gets dark in Forks, his office turns into a cave without the weak fluorescent lights on the ceiling. He would get them changed but he doesn’t need light. In fact, he runs away from light.

His eyes travel trough the walls. There are pictures of his family. His beautiful wife Esme, smiles gracefully as she hugs him. His daughters are beautiful too, Rosalie looks confident as always and Alice is just as joyful. Emmet is holding Rosalie and Alice in his arms in one picture as Jasper smiles- which is quite rarely since they moved back to Forks-. Edward is in only one picture, a family portrait. He remembers how difficult it was to convince him that day. Yet he still couldn’t manage to get him smile.

His gaze finally finds you, kneeling between his legs, looking up to him with doe eyes. Your mouth is full of his cock, lips stretched around his girth. And your spit mixed with his precum drools down your chin to your new top. He notes to buy you a new one this weekend. He smiles softly when you try to take him deeper into your throat. You are holding his thighs, fingers digging in, creates half moon shapes with the sharpness of your nails. His cold fingers caresses your cheek before he holds the base of your hair tight. Your body trembles and your wetness drips onto your underwear. He can smell your arousal, and the flavour of your very existence makes his throat sore with thirstiness. It’s been so long since he craved for a human’s blood. But you, you make him crazy with need.

“Come on pretty girl. Do better for me.” He says gently. Carlisle knows how much power he has over you. Gosh, you’re just a fragile, little human and he looks like a god in your eyes. Tears are flowing down your cheeks and you try to suck him faster. It’s almost like you can feel him down your throat, in your gullet. The sensation is painful and uncomfortable. Yet the satisfaction of Carlisle brings you more pleasure than anything ever. He groans when he feels your lips at the base of his cock. Your breath hits his blonde pubes, your warm, welcoming mouth drives him over the edge. He loves seeing you struggle on your knees, only for him. He loves having you by his feet, and pat your head when you’re good. You look so beautiful when you look up to him with those beautiful eyes of yours, beg for something you want him to get for you and then thank him with different ways he taught you.

He tries to be gentle, as much he can, and guides your head up and down on his cock. You try to catch your breath as he fucks into your mouth. He’s frowning, eyes shut tight and he looks only focused on his climax. Last time, he came on your face. This time he wants to leave his seed deep into your stomach. He knows how much you love when you are able to taste him fully. And he loves making his pretty girl happy. His hips thrusts up few times and before you know, he’s coming in your throat.

“Fuck!” He mutters and his head falls back to his leather chair. His tight hold on your hair loosens as you try to catch your breath and swallow his load. He hears you cough few times but he doesn’t look at you. He thinks of his choices. He knows he has a family, a wife to go back to. And he knows Edward can see his thoughts every single day when they all sit down in the living room, as he hold Esme in his arms. And he knows he doesn’t like it even though he wouldn’t say anything. He wonders if Alice saw this was coming or if she sees something about you that didn’t happen yet.

“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shaky and tears keep running down your cheeks. Your mascara is smudged under your eyes and there are big wet stains on your top. You look like a mess. Carlisle knows what he’s doing is wrong but having one thing for himself feels too good. Having one thing that he doesn’t need to share with others, with the rest of the world is precious. Every single time you enter his office he tells himself that he won’t do it again. And the next thing he knows that he’s fucking you hard on his desk. And in those moments he feels like the weight on his shoulders disappears.

When you’re kissing him, he doesn’t need to think about Jasper’s constant hunger. When youre riding him as your breasts bounce, he doesn’t need to think about Rosalie’s grumpy complaints about everything. When you’re begging him to come deep inside you, he doesn’t need to think about Edward’s century long depression. He only thinks about you when your tight, wet walls clench around him and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Yes, baby. You did so good.” He says as he pulls you up this lap. Your arms wrap around his neck when he settles your shaky body against his own. He holds your thigh and kisses you. The kiss is deep and makes you dizzy. His tongue swirls around yours, cold lips pressed against your burning ones.

“My turn to take care of you.” He says as his fingers trace over your skin to your underwear. His lips are right on your neck, kissing slowly when his fingertips meet with your wetness. His tongue stops right on your pulsing vein on the neck. He can only imagine how sweet you might taste. And the thrilling fantasy sends shivers down his spine. The thought of tasting you feels depraved, sick. But nothing in his life delights him more lately.

[readychilledwine]

What Dreams May Come

Part One - Asher

Summary - 50 years after sending his pregnant mate and children into hiding, Tamlin wants nothing more than to reconnect with his family.

Warnings - Rhys Slander is HEAVY in this series, references to smut, references to abuse, death, schmurder, fated mates and hidden family trope, kind of angst, tension, if you see an error, no you didn't 👀

A/N - I was going to wait to post this mini series, but I can't. I've been rereading it over and over and judging it harshly (as I do all my writing), so I'm putting it out there before I abandon it. Ps- each child has their own powers. You will learn each child in depth during Araceli's chapter. These are just little previews. Bonus points if you can figure out what Asher’s might be.

🥀What Dreams May Come Masterlist🥀Tamlin Masterlist🥀Master Masterlist🥀

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears (seriously peep the blog. Adorable season court Dividers)

Asher was thoroughly unimpressed with the horned beast staring him down as he flirted with the twin river nymphs he had been chasing for a few days now. Feral eyes were locked on his chocolate brown ones before the body of the beast because to slowly approaching. Asher sighed as the nymphs dove back into the water of the river, whispered melodically in their native tongue. “And what manner of beast are you,” He motioned up and down. “I believe parents should write stories about you. Ugly thing, you are.” 

He froze as the beast shifted, long blonde hair and sun kissed skin replacing the fur. Strong arms went across a wide chest, “Be careful with your words, son. You look just like me.” 

Asher, in fact, did not look like Tamlin. Tamlin screamed of sun, golden blonde hair and green eyes, Asher sang for the moon, dark short hair styled to one side, deep chocolate eyes he must have gotten from his mother's side, tanned skin. It was in their facial structure, the sharp jawline, the nose. That is where the signs of Tamlin rested in his son.

He had grown into a tall male, strong from what Tamlin could tell, but definitely with the same soft heart he had. Tamlin could see it in those eyes. Eyes that currently swan with confusion. The Lord of Sping simply opened his arms smiling as his first son dropped the act and came to him. 

“Dad,” the word was foreign on Asher’s tongue. They had been in hiding for so very long, not even mentioning the word out of fear. Asher had not been held by his father since he was 4, but it felt like he remembered. 

Hugging Tamlin, hugging his dad, it reminded him of the first warm rain in a season. Of getting a blanket warmed near the fire on cold nights from his mother. Asher melted into it, savored it as he took in the vaguely familiar scent of petrichor and freshly trimmed grass.

“I missed you,” Tamlin's deep voice made his eyes close as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Tell me everything. Tell me every happy moment, every ache, tell me you hate me. Anything, Asher. Anything.”

His mother was not home when Asher brought him back to the cave she had turned into a true home. The rumors that she could move mountains were, possibly, not rumors in her son's eyes, because, behind the waterfall the cave was hidden by, she had created a home. Everything he and his siblings had needed was magically summoned and made by his mother. They never wanted anything during the 50 years they had been isolated. 

Asher knew now his mom's magic ensured they had beds, blankets, comfort, through technically stealing. To be conjured, it had to come from somewhere. He had written a poem once about being a shopkeeper in the Night Court and coming into an emptied out shop, but Asher would put money on his mother somehow leaving a note to bill the High Lord of Night. 

Asher had also written a poem about his Uncle finding said bill. His mother told him it was inappropriate while smiling and folding it into her back pocket. 

He and Tamlin stayed quiet as he let the blonde male look around, “They say you can take the female out of the Night Court, but never the Night Court out of the female.”

Asher scoffed at that, “I believe she picked our furniture and goods on where she wanted to take from. Can't feel bad stealing from a rich asshole,” he quoted her exact words. 

Tamlin gave him a look, his lips clearly trying to remain in a stern position. “Your uncle is a-”

“Pompous asshole who feels that he is the change the world needs by just existing and not acting,” Asher was raising a dark brow at him as he poured them some tea. “Mom told me.”

“Asher,” Tamlin continued to try to be firm, “We do not speak of family that way.”

Asher blinked at him, unphased. This child, his oldest son, his mind was unwavering. Not even the Gods themselves could convince them of his Uncle Rhysand's good had they tried. It was his mom's fault, she was blunt and cut throat with her honesty, even when she knew lying would have been best.

Asher had found the history. He'd read the story of how his grandfather had threatened the life of his grandmother, forcing his father's hand to tell him where Rhysand would be meeting his mother and youngest sister. He read how his grandfather forced his father to watch as he mutilated them. 

He then read how Rhysand and his maternal grandfather got their revenge. Minds being melted, an innocent female, a victim in her own right, slaughtered mercilessly. Asher’s mother had still chosen his father, though. She was the only one who saw both sides and felt both heavy hands. Asher knew from the sadness in her eyes she would pick Tamlin again and again, though he had not met his own mate to know why yet.

“Do you always chase females,” Tamlin finally sat, relaxing enough to truly appreciate how handsome his son was.

A wide grin appeared on Asher’s face, “I can't help but to chase them. I've never met an ugly female,  father.”

Tamlin internally cringed at the word father, so informal to the earlier plea of “Dad”. “So no type?”

“Pretty, and they all are. Has to enjoy my poetry, and they all do. I have a, uh, certain way with words."

“So you seduce them with just words?”

Asher glanced up, “Why try something else when I am so good at it.” His face was filled with pride as he went to the book shelf and grabbed a leather book worn with love. He handed the heavy collection of paper to him, “Go ahead. Tell me how fantastic I am.”

Tamlin chuckled as he opened the book. It was definitely made in the Night Court, a sign of where his wife had been technically stealing from outside the obvious furniture and leathers Asher was wearing.  The pages were thick, stained slightly from ink transferring from paper to hand and back. His son's handwriting was influenced by his wife. Soft scrolls flowing together like a melody. The poetry was good, very good. “You haven't decided if you like Quatrain or Villanelle, have you?”

“No,” Asher shifted. “Should I have?”

Tamlin shook his head, “I'm over 500 years old and still bounce from around with different formats and stanza structures.” He continued reading an odd feeling setting into him before he closed the book and saw the shocked look on his son's face.

"You write poetry?!" He watched deep eyes light up and the conversation flew from there, father and son, bonding over poetry, over literature. 

The topics grew, varying from serious, to funny, to gossip. Tea constantly poured between them as they discussed being forced to train, of their mutual love of chocolate, of their favorite writers. Tamlin learned so much as the hours past before Asher asked if he wanted some fresh air.

Asher was strong, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It comforted Tamlin as they moved outside using a back magical gate made by Araceli. It took them to a vegetable garden that thrived, insects flying all around, fruit hanging from heavy trees. “Where is this place,” Tamlin looked around.

“We're still in The Middle,” Asher laid out the blanket before gently tossing his bag down. “I'm sure you secretly do recognize the cottage we're near.” The High Lord did, nodding as he studied the place he'd been told his whole life to avoid. The Weaver’s home was deadly, dangerous, and forbidden. Yet his son sat outside of it like it wasn't even phasing him. “Mom made her a deal. The Weaver likes her hair. Mom likes the protect she gives us. Once a year, mom let's The Weave cut her hair for threads in exchange for protection and us being allowed to grow this garden.”

The horrified expression on his father's face wasn't missed by Asher. A bargain with a being like The Weaver was not taken lightly. His mom worked hair to ensure her hair stayed healthy, long, and ready. The Weaver claimed her hair had some magical properties, but all Asher envisioned when he was young was the ancient being using them as some sort of enchanted tie to his mom, ready to rip her from them and eat them at any given notice. 

“Is she insane?!”

Eyes narrowed at him, “She was alone,” Asher emphasized the word making it a dagger. “She did a lot of dangerous things to protect us. You should be worshiping the very ground she walks upon.” 

Momma’s boy. 

Asher was still momma’s boy. 

Tamlin shook his head, “I love her. More than you know and understand. I love you more than you understand.”

“Loved them so much you hid them away in one of the most dangerous places in the realm?” The soft female voice had Asher smirking. Tamlin turned to face a young blonde, her hair falling in soft waves with braids placed strategically to help prevent the locks from falling into soft green eyes. 

This. This was him. Had Tamlin been born a female, this is what he'd look like. One cheek dimpled as she smiled, the asymmetry flattered her, complimenting soft cheek bones, a gently sloped nose, full blush lips. Along every inch of her face, freckles danced, marking her skin like soft kisses. 

“Sister,” a pen met paper as Asher spoke. “You are busy little bee I see.” 

Her hands were both filled with baskets almost overflowing with herbs, vegetables, edible flowers. Her nails had dirt under the nails and staining the skin. She carrying a look of pride and accomplishment Tamlin knew well. This was her garden and it was fruitful. “Your squash was ready,” she was speaking to Asher but her eyes were on Tamlin. “Momma said she could turn it into soup?” Asher nodded, but he was deep into capturing Something on page, a grunt was his only other response. She continued to stare at Tamlin, “Do you know which of your children I am?”

Tamlin wanted to roll his eyes at her, say of course, but he refrained, watching as she moved, sitting next to Asher but slightly behind him. “I know my own baby girl, Taryn,” the High Lord said. “Your dimple gives you away.” He couldn't help but reach for her cheek, but a firm hand stopped him from touching her.

“I don't believe my sister gave you permission to put your hands on her face.” A smirk of pride grew on Tamlin's face as Asher now fully looked at his father and little sister. “You may touch her when, and if, Taryn allows. Until then, no.”

Taryn leaned her head onto Asher’s shoulder as Tamlin lowered his hand. “You two are close?”

“Very,” they answered in unison.

“How were Darya and Amaya?”

“Who?”

“The river nymphs twins,” Taryn glared at Asher. “The two you've been trying to bed for a week now?”

Asher sighed and laid back, “They're impossible!”

Taryn and Tamlin glanced at him, “How so,” the high lord asked.

“They're identical! They said they only sleep with males who can tell them apart! Their hair is the same length. Their eyes both sparkle like a clear lake. They both have the perfect little nymph figure. Hair black as coal. They're gorgeous, fun, witty.” Asher covered his eyes by dramatically laying his arm across his face, “One of them I am most interested in. I believe it is Darya.”

“Does she have a shell braided Into her hair?”

Asher nodded at his sister's question, “She's.. she's just stunning. Inside and out. I may be in love."

Tamlin hid a smile as he reached into Taryn's woven basket filled with fruit and stole an apple. Asher continued telling Taryn his woes before sighing. "I wrote a new poem for her," he whispered with an air of insecurity. "I just.. wish she would respond some way, any way really.

He stood and then reached down to grab each basket, “I'll take these home. I.. I'm going to try just her. Maybe that will help?" He looked to his sister and father for some reassurance.

Taryn nodded, “I like that idea.”

“I think she's special.”

“Then she is,” Tamlin answered simply. “Go. I'll take care of Taryn.” Asher nodded, disappearing in the same gate his mother had opened.

Silence fell between the two on the blanket. The air was thick and heavy, a contrast to the brightness of his daughter's garden, to the smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

“You may hold me.”

4 words. 4 soft words. Spoken with hesitation, anger, grief, fear. 

Yet they opened a floodgate as a father pulled his daughter to him, the process beginning again as the sunset behind them. 

Tamlin knew his goal as he took him the scent of strawberries lingering in her blonde hair.

Board by board. Brick by brick. Nail by nail. He was going to rebuild his family. Even if doing so hurt him in the process.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

And my fellow Tamlin girlies:

@nocasdatsgay @pit-and-the-pen

[madwcman]

pairing: tasm! peter x reader

a/n: i’m so back! | inspired by that one peter & gwen scene

peter climbs in through his window, into the bedroom he was wearing his spider-man suit, mask off revealing the cuts on his lower lip, and eyebrow. a sigh escaping his lips, as he looked over to his bed, he couldn’t help but smile at you, you were laying in bed, looking peaceful. peter couldn’t tell if you were sleeping or not, the room was a bit dark, even for him to tell.

“peter, are you okay?” you sit up in bed, covers pulling around your waist as you squint your eyes, the only light coming from the moon and the lights from the city.

he smiles softly at you, his lower lip hurting a bit from the cut. "i’m alright, a little beat up, but i’m fine.”

he quickly tosses his mask onto the small desk, and discards his spider-man suit, throwing it into a random corner in the room, he puts on some baggy shorts and makes his way to your side of the bed, sitting next to you. “let me see.” you whisper, moving closer to him. you examine his face, eyebrows furrowed as you see the small scar on his bottom lip and the cut slightly above his left eyebrow.

not trying to hurt him, you softly pull at his chin, gently, looking over his lips “you cut your bottom lip.” you mumble, placing your thumb on peters lip.

“it’ll heal.”

“you cut your eyebrow, too”

“really? didn’t know.” he smiles, he knows he’s slightly giving you a hard time.

“smartass” she quickly pokes at his ribs, knowing it’s his weakness, he laughs, squirming away from you. “hey, stop that!”

“your cheek is bruised too, stop beating up my boyfriend.” you voice out, in a serious tone, as you place your hands under his jaw, and under his small bruise looking over it.

“i’m spider-man, it’s not my fault.” he mummers, his brown eyes analyzing your face. you’re like an old beautiful painting to him, he could star at you for hours.

“you’re peter, too.” you lean in, pressing a kiss to peter’s cheek, he leans into it, a sweet and pretty smile on his face. he’s sure that your kisses could cure any cut or bruise he has on his body.

you pull back, and look at him gently. he wants to kiss you until you’re sick of him, he breathes a laugh and leans in, his nose poking your cheek. “come’er”

you roll your eyes and can’t help but mumble playfully. “so bossy.”

he presses his lips to yours, they’re always soft and taste a bit like cherry, from his chapstick, you can also taste the small blood from his bottom lip. you don’t mind when it comes to peter.

he pulls and leans back, he looks dizzy and his eyes are lidded, he must be tired. you push his hair out of his eyes, and smile softly at him, you love peter so much, you’re a sap for him, but you don’t mind. you can’t help but climb into his lap and wrap around him, holding onto him while you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“i mean it bugboy, be nice to my boyfriend.” you mumble into his neck, placing a soft kiss there.

he snorts, from the nickname. it’s been a long time since you called him bugboy. he can’t help but laugh. “yeah yeah, i’ll take care of him.” he holds onto you tight, kissing your head.

“good, i happen to love, and enjoy him.” peter lights up, a wide smile placed on his lips, his scar spilts a bit with the smile, it hurts, but he could care less. how could he care when you’re here holding onto him tight and telling him you love him? he doesn’t. he laughs, holding onto you tight, bringing another kiss to your head. he might be hurting a bit but truly this is curing him. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Why Not Us?

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six |

CW: Memories of mass murder, some internalized dehumanization, survivor’s guilt

-

Misae made it to the little bedroom before the moon rose, thankfully. He nearly tripped over the strange mattress on the floor, the one they’d blown up with air and then thrown blankets and pillows on. It was meant to be his bed, he thought, which made sense.

Anaya might let him on the real bed, but not to sleep. Wolves, like dogs, slept on the floor. It would be lonely, but it would make sense. Almost nothing did, now. Sitting in chairs, eating pizza instead of having to shift to eat the raw meat thrown into the kennels, wearing clothes and being asked if he would like something to drink… they didn’t seem to know what he was, to understand. 

He could hear them now, Eden, Anaya, and Vanessa, from down the hall. They talked and laughed, and Misae felt hollowed out at the sound, wishing he could be there with them.

Maybe there would be more pizza.

He laid one hand on his stomach. It felt… almost rounded. He’d never eaten so much or so well, not in all the life he had lived. He hadn’t had to fight over any of it, either. There hadn’t been the need to snarl and posture, or crawl on his belly and lick at an older wolf’s mouth, hoping they’d give him a few scraps out of pity or some dim affection.

The moon’s slow rise made him restless, bouncing on his toes as he tried to decide where he could safely change. The room was small, but he could fit under the big bed if he was smart about it. 

But then the humans would get into the bed, and if the mattress dipped low it might force him back out.

The call to shift prickled under his skin, and Misae stripped his shirt and pants off before it could take hold and leave him confused and trapped in the cloth. He tossed the sweatpants and shirt onto the bed just as he felt his spine begin to bend.

It always felt so good, when the shift started. Like waking up after a good sleep, coming back to where you belonged. He had always been meant to walk on four legs, and the human side was only what he was allowed for good behavior.

He leaned over, a sensation like goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs, setting his hair on end. The healing wound in his leg throbbed but some of the pain felt more distant as he changed.

It wasn’t that the wound disappeared, it was only that his wolf body knew how it felt to be injured with silver far better than his human body did. It knew how to ignore the pain, how to keep moving, because to let the pain take you was to be singled out to die. Wolves who were too hurt to keep going were wolves that starved, his instincts knew it. Wolves who starved died.

Everyone died anyway. It hadn't mattered how good they were when Bill didn't want them any longer.

He shuddered and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about his family, not now. It would overtake him and he’d just be trapped in the grave in his mind, even if his body was here still breathing.

He couldn’t think about dozens of flat blank eyes, frozen in mute horror. He couldn’t think about the warmth still lingering in the stiffening bodies pressed all around him, about how Nina had tried to cover him and hide him from the shots even as she had been bleeding to death herself. 

Had Nina been his real mother?

It was possible. Their fur was the same, their eyes were the same. But some of the other wolves had fur and eyes like his, too. But... maybe Nina had been his mother.

Maybe she had known it, if only at the end, and tried to save the one pup she could.

The humans had tried to ruin them to each other, make them hurtful and hateful, but the wolves had found a way to love, anyway. In secret, when it was safe, and at the end when nothing was safe and it didn’t matter any longer there was one more way to love that Bill couldn't take from them.

It made no difference if you loved when you would lose each other anyway. In the end, the werewolves had loved each other, and it hadn’t saved any of them.

Except him.

Misae closed his eyes, stretching his shifting muscles and forcing himself to leave the dead behind, for now anyway. For as long as he could. 

Bones cracked and broke beneath his skin, painlessly reforming. Misae dropped to a crouch and leaned his weight forward on his hands, feeling bare, vulnerable fingers change to rougher paw pads and clicking nails. He stretched his front legs until the muscles stretched and burned and sighed, contented by the feeling.

Canine teeth lengthened and his ears grew. He twitched one just to feel it, exhaling a rough sigh as his tongue briefly lolled out. Fur spread over skin like a blanket, a little patchy but still warming his chilly body, and the bed on the floor called to him. He was tired, and the killing back at Bill’s house kept trying to worm its way past his moments of comfort and warmth in this new place, with these new people.

If he laid still, it would catch up with him, and he didn’t want Anaya or Eden to hear how wolves mourned, how they cried. He didn’t know if they would still comfort him then, or if they would turn angry at the sounds, or learn to hate him. Bill’s family hated the sound of the mourning wolves, beat them for their weeping in human form or for their howls as wolves. 

Who knew what regular humans would do? 

Misae only knew that Anaya and Eden had been kind, so far. But so had Aaron, sometimes - Bill’s youngest son had been known to scratch behind a wolf’s ears when none of the other humans were looking. Even Austin had once bandaged Misae’s leg after he’d gotten it caught in a fence and bled.

That didn’t make them any kinder when the werewolves broke the rules, rules no one ever said out loud but simply expected the wolves to learn by being beaten when they were broken until they figured them out. It had never stopped Austin from calling them all names, or laughing when they fought.

Human kindness always had limits. 

Always.

Even as he became the first form he ever knew, the stalking werewolf that Bill had never been able to separate from the boy whose body the wolf shared, Misae knew he had to hide. Not from Anaya or Eden, who had already seen him as a wolf. Not because he feared them.

He had to hide because they didn’t know to fear him.

Misae’s nose turned black and scents exploded into the world around him. What had before been just the light smell of cleaning products and maybe a pumpkin-scented candle was now a collection of stories he could read in the air and along the ground. Vanessa had walked in here to set up the mattress, having forgotten to take her shoes off after getting the mail. Misae could smell the grass she had stepped on, scent the slight shift in her smell of frustration when it took a long time to get the air pump working to set up the mattress. He could smell, on the mattress, long months spent idle with no need to be used. The faintest smell of a camping trip, some time in the past - the last time the air mattress had been needed.

The way his sense of smell changed was always what gave away when it was time to find somewhere to hide, before the silver light could touch his fur and call to him. It would make him want to run, to howl and see if any other wolves were nearby to answer.

What would he do if they were?

He had known only his own family. He’d never seen any werewolves that didn’t huddle together in the kennels, fighting over the barest hints of kindness shown to them by Bill and his family. If he met a free wolf, he might simply lay down, show his belly, and wait for them to tear out his throat when they smelled the kennels on him. 

Misae paced restlessly around the small room, limping and trying to keep weight off his injured leg, snuffling against the ground, tracing the hints of Eden and Anaya in here and then following the softer smell of Vanessa until he found the closet door was cracked open.

Perfect. Like a den.

He had to paw at it, whining softly with his ears flat against his head, looking nervously at the patch of moonlight that seemed to head inexorably in his direction. His heart raced beneath his fur at the sight. 

Bill had always said, over and over again, never let the moonlight touch you. It was the only rule the humans told the werewolves, and taught to the pups before they were put into the main kennels. During the full moon, for three nights, they would huddle together inside big wooden boxes that formed a kind of den. Anyone caught outside the den, by Bill or by the cameras, would be punished.

It was the first thing Misae remembered learning, while still toddling around on four short legs, a few weeks after birth. Never let the moonlight touch you. He'd broken the rule running from the guns, from the grave of his family. He'd broken the rule running from Austin. But… that had been different, hadn’t it?

Hadn’t it?

Misae clambered clumsily over a pile of cardboard boxes, blowing harshly through his nose as things packed inside clattered around. He pushed at them with his snout until he had made for himself a sort of barrier, protecting him from the world outside this tiny space. He turned in a circle and then laid down, ears flat, shimmering amber-brown eyes watching the silvery light that cut across the bed through the open doorway.

Beneath his nose, soaked into the floorboards years ago, he could smell a hint of a rose perfume. Left by some other person, long before any of the familiar smells of Vanessa's life had entered this place.  

The scent made him shudder, heart going cold.

Bill's wife Ada wore rose perfume. 

The smell of roses, for the children in the puppy kennels, meant one of you might vanish that day. Ada sometimes took them, luring them out with treats and soft words until she could get the loop around their necks to pull tight, leading them on the leash inside.

She mostly brought them back, after sticking needles to take blood or give what she called 'medicine' that put the puppies to deep sleep and left them groggy and confused upon waking. She mostly brought them back.

But not always.

Rose perfume drifting on the air was sometimes all the warning they got before a pup disappeared. 

The memories made him tremble and he whined softly, but quieted the sound as fast as he could. It was something all of them learned, not just how to hide from the moonlight but also how to be so quiet that none of the men and women inside the house could hear and think of them.

They all learned how to be, if only temporarily, forgotten.

Now Misae was the only left for Bill and his family to remember. He wondered if Bill would come for him, still. Try to find him. Or if, now that he'd outrun Austin, he'd let Misae go into a world where nobody was left to even love him in secret any longer.

It was Eden and Anaya he needed to hide from now. Not because they might hurt him, but because he might hurt them. Wolves were most dangerous when the moon was full, calling on their nonhuman blood. 

It made them monsters - hungry, mindless killers. 

Everyone knew that.

Bill made sure everyone knew that. 

He watched the moonlight’s slow crawl along the small room until his eyes drifted shut and he dozed off, his tail flicking occasionally. Once the moon began to set in the morning, just as the sun rose, he’d be able to be a boy again. Until then, he could relax into the form he was far more comfortable in even if he had been painstakingly taught to fear what it was capable of.

He slept deeply enough to have fuzzy, formless dreams. He was beneath all of his family, trying to crawl out from under them. They called for him, cried for help, whined and whimpered and shouted and cursed. 

The air was being slowly crushed out of him, and he desperately tried to get out from beneath the weight of their deaths, their memories.

He looked up to see straight down the barrel of Austin’s shotgun, the black within the metal circle, holding his death.

Found you, Austin said, softly. Time to go, Rusty.

Fingers touched the top of his head.

Misae?

He jolted awake and snapped out of sheer instinct, ears flat in a flash and teeth clicking together. He didn’t quite catch anything, but as his eyes opened, he saw Anaya looking down at him, eyes wide, her hand jerked back against her chest. 

“Misae?” She repeated, voice a little shakier this time. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and Eden was just behind her, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had Misae looking in jealousy at skin only scarred along the underside of his chest, two odd half-circle shapes that didn’t mean anything to Misae’s mind. “Holy shit.”

“DId he bite you?” Eden asked, an edge to his voice. “Anaya, if he bit you-... isn’t that how it-... it spreads?”

Misae curled up tighter, whimpering, his heart picking back up into a pounding race that made him dizzy. He tucked his tail as tightly as he could and looked up with his chin pressed against the floor, licking at his chops nervously.

 “Naya? Did he-”

“No, he didn’t,” Anaya replied, frowning back at Eden, before dropping into a crouch. “And we don’t know that that's how it spreads, or whatever. Or even if it does spread. Who even knows what’s real and what isn’t about werewolves?”

“Before yesterday, I would have told you nothing is real about werewolves,” Eden said, hovering behind her. 

“And you would have been wrong, wouldn't you. Besides, he was asleep. I woke him up, that’s on me, not him. Hey, Misae. Hey there, honey.” Her voice softened, and she shoved some of Misae’s barrier of boxes aside, until she could hold out her hand and lay it down with knuckles on floor and palm facing up, between them. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me. Are you good? We were worried when we didn’t see where you’d gone. You were making some noise in here, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Misae’s nose twitched. He eased forward, belly to the ground, until he could slowly lay his chin in her palm. She let one finger gently scratch at the soft fur there and he whined. 

“He’s okay,” Anaya whispered. “I scared you, huh? You were having bad dreams, I bet. Don't blame you, this has been a really weird day. Just... the weirdest. Can I ask why you're here in the closet?”

“There’s a joke about being a closeted werewolf in there somewhere, but I’m honestly not awake enough to make it,” Eden said, but he moved back until he could sit on the bed. He didn’t quite relax, not yet, but the space helped Misae to feel a little safer. Eden didn’t look - or smell - angry. 

“Oh, shut up,” Anaya said, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She wasn’t angry, either. “And don’t spend all night coming up with it, either. I don’t want to hear it when we wake up.”

“Well, now I have to come up with something. I have to come up with something and have it be the literal first thing I say to you when we wake up,” Eden teased, flopping himself backwards onto the bed and wriggling under the blankets, sighing happily when he was covered up. “Oh, this comforter weighs a ton. Perfect.”

“For someone who likes to sleep in the absolute wilderness like a caveman, you sure love a weighted blanket.” Anaya snorted.

"If I'm a caveman, that means you like a caveman." Eden grinned. "Ha ha, you're in love with a Neanderthal," He sing-songed. Anaya threw up a middle finger over her shoulder in his general direction, and Eden's smile only widened.

Misae wondered what a Nee-ander-tal was as his eyes flicked to the side, taking in the window, looking for the moonlight. To his relief, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark, now, except for a small lamp they’d turned on by the bed. There was no chance of the moon catching at his fur, calling him to hunt, to rip and tear and rend. 

Misae pushed himself slowly onto his feet, ignoring his throbbing back leg. Anaya smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. His heart beat faster for new reasons, and he followed her as she eased back and away from the closet, pushing past the boxes. 

When Anaya sat on the air mattress on the floor, Misae moved slowly onto it as well until he could lick at the corners of her mouth with his tail tucked underneath him. She laughed and pushed lightly at him, and he moved to lay on his side, paws curled to show her his stomach, baring his vulnerable throat.

“He likes you,” Eden commented idly from up on the bed. “Pretty sure that’s wolf for ‘you’re cool, let’s be buds.’ Also I think it means he thinks you're in charge."

"I am in charge," Anaya said, voice haughty, but there was laughter lining every word. "It's good that both you boys know it."

Misae shifted back onto his stomach and curled back up until his tail covered his nose. Anaya smiled at the sight, reaching out to scratch the top of his head. Misae sighed, eyes drifting closed again. He relaxed under the gentle affection. “There you go. All right, what matters is that you're okay. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah? All three of us.”

He watched her stand up, ears drooping as she climbed into the real bed, next to Eden. He watched her get under the blanket, laying next to Eden. He laid on the floor where wolves belonged, missing the warmth of his family. Missing the den. Alone, here, on the ground. Werewolves weren't meant to be alone - he knew that, not from Bill or Austin but from how perfect it had felt in the den, in the kennels, when they were all together.

Anaya turned off the lamp, and darkness overtook the room.

The humans, he thought, would be blind in the dark. Misae could see everything, though. He could see the silvery moonlight held back by the curtains, could see Eden’s chest rise and fall, slowing as he slipped into sleep. He could see that Anaya stayed awake a while longer.

He listened to her breathing, holding back his whimpers until it slowed and deepened and he knew he wouldn't wake her. He could lay here, alone.

Well.

Not entirely alone. 

His family was here, even if they weren’t. They would never leave him, not fully, not all the way. Even now he could feel them nosing around him trying to find a comfortable spot. He knew the pressure of their bodies around him like he knew his own paws. He could feel their chill breath on his neck, the soft nuzzle of affection that he would never really feel again. He could sense snuffles and whines, jostles for position that sometimes ended with playful snarling and rumbling growls. He could feel Nina’s weight on top of him. Feel her body jerk with the shots she had taken that he hadn’t. He could hear them, in his heart, howling just outside the little house.

He could hear their cries, begging him to join them. He should have slept for the last time in the big grave with the rest of them. He had been meant to die with his family. He wasn't the fastest in his family, the smartest, the best hunter. He wasn't anything better than anyone else.

There was no reason for him to survive, no special ability or way of being he had that made him deserve this bed with its soft blankets when everyone he loved was quiet and cold in the ground, covered in dirt and decomposing now.

He hadn’t deserved to meet kind humans. He didn’t deserve to eat pizza until his stomach ached and sit in chairs. He didn't deserve hot water to clean the dirt and blood from his skin. Others in his pack had deserved it so much more, and they had been given silver bullets instead, and now...

Now Misae was the only one left who remembered them.

He closed his eyes against the way the darkness wanted to change shape, to make him see his dead family with all the blood and bullets. He listened to their wistful, spectral howls, just outside the window. Calling and calling and calling, crying to him and to each other.

Why you? Why not us, instead? Why not the little pups, why not the mothers, why not the older wolves who had been good for so long? You were never all that good. What about you deserved to live? Why not us?

Why was it you?

Anaya and Eden slept together.

Misae slept with ghosts.

-

@finder-of-rings  @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings 

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps @yassifiedinformation

[chynandri]

I’ve got so much on my mind! Eva/Neil stuff To the moon beach episode spoilers

While I’ve always liked the Eva/Neil ship I have seen it as more one sided, or maybe just UNdecided. Neil I think it got increasingly obvious that he liked her, but it was hard to tell with Eva. I think in this game she definitely showed Interest in him. peeking at his shirtlessness and whatever’s in his pants at the pool lmao. plus wanting to believe the real Neil would want to protect her and do nice gestures. I think my most satisfying personal interpretation is that she’s just isn’t all that sure how she feels about him besides that obviously, this was her best childhood friend. After all I think it’s hard to have feelings for someone who was so distant and secretive at the same time. But there’s definitely still Something there that just… never got the chance to become something more.

I think a feeling of ‘incompleteness’ is prominent after finishing this game. Somehow having some of the truth confirmed/spelled out to you just leaves me with more questions. And perhaps that’s the whole point… the incompleteness of their feelings for each other, the incompleteness of the beach trip, the incompleteness of the simulated beach trip, the incompleteness of Neil himself as a person. I feel like the life lesson here was that you got to be ok with not having all the closure but realize that things have an end in spite of it. And you’ve got to move on once you’re ready to. The game giving you one final chance to linger on a perfect moment of Neil and Eva at their most vulnerable, letting You choose when the story ends was really profound. It’s like Kan Gao was saying to you ‘yeah, you’ve known all along Neil was dying/is dead. And that this series wasn’t going to last forever. You can keep returning to it again and again, but that fact remains and eventually you will stop playing the games and move on.’

I’m not sure if I’m articulating the metaness of this ending well enough, but Eva and the player feel in parallel here. Eva’s relationship with Neil, and the players relationship to this series.

Just wow. What an incredible ending. It almost felt too quick that the biggest theory of Neil being dead all along was confirmed but, it’s not too quick at all considering this story’s been going on for 13 years I guess. Still leaves me in shock even though that’s honestly what the games have been Strongly hinting at.

Will try to remember To the Moon for as long as I can. What an impactful game series…

[pamwritessometimes]

Roots in my dreamland

Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, mentions of being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

The wind howled through the towering trees, winter’s chill clinging to the air as Dean wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure why he kept on going on this path. There were no signs of danger, no clear trail to follow, yet something kept dragging him in. It felt ancient here, in this part of the forest, like time itself was buried in these moss-covered grounds.

The reports of strange occurrences in the area had led him here in the first place: people disappearing, then reappearing with no memory of where they’d been. Dean had taken it as another case, another monster to hunt… but what he found instead was something he didn’t understand, and certainly something he couldn’t really fight.

He had found her.

His steps slowed as he reached the edge of a small clearing. The pale light of the crescent moon covered everything in a soft, silvery glow, casting shadows on the ice frozen ground. And there she was, standing just beyond the oak trees, her figure nearly blending into the darkness of the brusque, winter night.

She looked at him as if she’d been waiting.

She always did.

Dean didn’t know her name. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what she was. Her skin glimmered, like the moonlight itself was part of her, and her eyes – deep and dark, just like the forest itself – held some sort of timelessness in them. Every time he saw her, he felt like something inside him was growing, something he couldn’t quite control.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he asked, his voice rough, soaked in frustration. “Every time I get close to leaving this place behind, I—” He broke off, his mind going momentarily frigid in the air. “I come back.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly as she took a cautious step toward him with her bare feet leaving no mark in the snow. She was now close enough that he could feel the soft glow of her skin radiating off her eternal warmness and the unusual flowers threaded in her locks. “Maybe it’s because you belong here more than you think.”

Dean’s chest tightened. Belong? He didn’t belong anywhere, least of all here in this strange, enchanted place. But he couldn’t deny that every time he saw her, a part of him felt like it was coming home.

“You need to let me go” he whispered, though his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost sad. “You can’t fight what’s already growing inside you.” she said quietly. Her hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek. The warmth of her touch like fire beneath his skin.

Dean stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “What is this?” he rasped with eyes wide, his hand instinctively catching hers, holding it against his face. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Why can’t I…?”

She smiled softly, but there was an edge of sorrow in her eyes. “You’ve planted your roots here” she whispered. “And so have I.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to believe that he was tied to this place — to her — but the truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. And he had his fair share of experience with those. Every time he tried to walk away, she pulled him back, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to break free.

“I– I can’t stay here. This…” He gestured to the forest around them, then to her. “This isn’t me.”

“I know.” she said simply. But she didn’t move away. She stood there, her eyes searching his, like she was waiting for him to make a choice he didn’t know how to make. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the people he was supposed to be saving. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep coming back. And yet…

“I don’t want to leave..” he admitted, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I can’t.”

She leaned into him then, her body soft and warm against his. Her fingers traced the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “Then don’t” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. He groaned, the weight of everything crashing over him at once. His responsibilities, the danger, the distance between their worlds (whatever her world was in the first place), none of it mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was her.

“I’m already in too deep” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’re in my head, in my damn dreams. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop coming back right here. To you. I can’t keep my distance from you.”

“I know” she said, her lips ghosting over his. “I feel it too.”

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his mouth was on hers, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm and so right, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about the consequences. Only the ethereal feeling of her silky skin against the palm of his hand and the velvet of her lips. She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in his hair as they stumbled back, their bodies melding together. He could feel the heat rising between them, the fire building in his chest as he lost himself in her…completely, utterly, involuntarily lost. 

They sank to the icy forest floor, the snowy moss cool beneath them as they tumbled into each other’s arms. Though, somehow, Dean didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel his skin being affected by winter’s brusque. Her hands trailed patterns over him, her touch so incredibly soft, almost like a ghost, but it magically made his body immune to the weather. He responded with equal vehemence, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting the woodsy warmth of her skin.

“Dean” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, but there was something else there too, something fragile, like she was holding back. “You need to–”

“No” he cut her off, his voice rough. “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to leave.”

Dean’s movements stilled, her words slicing through his hazy state of desire. She was right. He would have to leave. This, whatever the hell this was, couldn’t last. He didn’t belong in her world, and she didn’t belong in his.

But for now, he didn’t care.

“For tonight” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers, “Just– please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and after a long moment, she nodded as a sign of her silent agreement. They moved together again, slower this time, like they were savoring every moment, every touch, every warm glow of her hand on his skin. The world outside the forest faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the soft gleam of moonlight, the ancient trees standing tall silent around them.

Dean kissed her lips slowly, his mind completely fogged by need. He didn’t know her, didn’t understand exactly what she was, but none of that mattered now. Not in this moment. Not when every part of him was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Just for tonight, he let himself get lost in her. His hands found their way to her soft, leaf-woven dress, fingers trailing along the strange fabric that did a sinfully poor job at hiding her curves. As he slid his hands down her waist, her lips parted in a heavenly moan, a testament of her sharing the same need as him. His fingers traced slow and purposeful patterns along her upper thigh, teasing her skin beneath the hem of her skirt (or whatever magical leaf-dress she was wearing). Their breath met halfway as she arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her otherworldly pulse beneath his lips. 

He leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around the pair. “I want you” he murmured. He really did. He had no idea how, why or who, to be frank, but he craved her.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to look into his emerald green orbs. It was just like the forest.  “Then take me” she whispered back.

With a slow movement, he pressed her back against the soft, icy moss. The world around them slowly faded as he kissed her again. Deeper this time… pouring all his desire into the action, savoring the taste of her lips, and the way her celestial presence made him feel. His hands explored her body, making it his goal to commit every little line to memory. He wanted to remember this. Her hands slid under his shirt, warm fingers dancing over his skin, fueling the fire in him. He could feel her heat radiating against him and he responded to that by deepening the kiss, wanting to wipe everything out of his memory, except for this.

His fingers were still under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer to her honey-soaked pussy. As he finally met her heat, she gasped, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, her body arching against him as an encouragement for him to continue. 

Dean met her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he saw none. He slowly slid his fingers deeper, feeling her sweet cunt envelop him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a low moan escaped her lips as he began to move his middle finger in and out. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he couldn’t help but murmur a breathless “You're incredible. So incredibly beautiful. So wet for me already.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he felt her walls clench around him, and eventually he found a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the forest around them. 

“Dean” she moaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”

Amidst hearing that, he captured her lips again, pouring every drop of his need into the kiss. 

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His own need had reached a fever pitch. His fingers slowly slipped out of her core, which earned a whine from her parted lips. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers worked at the button of his jeans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She was more than happy to help him, her hands quick and eager as she pushed his jeans down over his hips, his painfully hard length springing free from its confinements. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, not a single thing between them now.

Dean’s hand slid up her thigh, guiding himself to her pussy, and he hesitated for a brief second, meeting her gaze again. Again, there was no doubt in her eyes, only a quiet plea for him to close the distance between them finally. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her sloppy heat a few times before he finally began to ease himself in. He pushed into her slowly, inch by incredible inch, savoring the feel of her cunt hugging him so snug. The soft gasp that escaped her lips as he filled her  was enough to make his cock twitch inside of her. She was tight, and oh, so warm, and every inch of him ached with the need to move, but he forced himself to go slow, to feel every moment, every convulsion of her pussy.

Her hands gripped his back, nails biting into his skin as her hips rose to meet him, her body urging him deeper and deeper – despite his effort to stay calm just for a moment. The feeling of her wrapped around him was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting into her once more, harder this time, losing himself in the way she moved beneath him.

She moaned his name, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Dean’s pace quickened, his hips moving in time with hers, each thrust deeper, harder, rougher. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips finding his again as they moved together, the rhythm growing faster, more urgent. Every sound she made, every arch of her back, every gasp and moan spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge.

Dean’s hand slipped between them, finding her clit, and the moment he touched her there, she cried out, her body trembling underneath him as her release hit her, hard and fast.

“Dean, oh my— i’m going to—” and with that, her walls clenched around him, gushing all over his length. Threatening to slip out of her, because of the force of her release, he thrusted himself deeper. And then, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t—” and with a low groan, he followed her over the edge, his muscles tensing as his hot, white seed filled her, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to make his orgasm last as long as it is possible. 

For a long-long moment, neither of them dared to mov. Their bodies tangled together, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they came down from their highs. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses as they lay there, utterly spent.

They lay together in the quiet of the clearing, the warmth of their bodies cutting through the chilly air. Dean stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. His heart was still racing, his mind already starting to spin with what would come next. He still had no idea who she was. He still didn’t know if she was the one behind all those strange happenings around the area. 

Then reality crept back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean blinked, once, twice, his body stiffening. The warmth that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by the biting cold of the winter air. He lifted his head, eyes squinting in confusion as his surroundings snapped back into focus. The enchanted glow, the surreal energy of the forest… all gone. Just the regular, old clearing. And there, standing at the edge of it, was Sam, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Dude” Sam started, his voice incredulous, “why the hell are you naked? It’s the middle of winter.”

Dean frowned, slowly realizing his current state. He glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was sprawled out on the cold, snowy moss, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. The warmth of her body and everything that had felt so real was now a distant memory. And yet… he swore it had happened.

“I…” Dean sat up, quickly gathering his clothes from the ground and putting them on, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. “I was, uh… investigating.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Investigating? Naked? In the freezing cold?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick, because I’ve been looking for you for an hour, man” Sam grumbled. “What happened? You were supposed to check out the weird stuff going on, not have some naked winter party.”

Dean’s gaze darted around the clearing. She was nowhere to be found, no sign of her leaf-woven dress, her touch, not even a trace of her pinewood scent. It was like she had never been there. The forest felt… ordinary now. The magic, the connection… they all seemed to have vanished with her.

“I’m not sure” Dean admitted, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs, the chill sinking into his bones now that reality was firmly back in place. “There was this… girl. I think.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe?”

“Girl?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up even higher.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while now… She was—” Dean gestured vaguely, trying to put words to what had just happened, but it felt harder and harder to grasp the details. “She was real, I think. Or… maybe she wasn’t. She could’ve been some kind of forest spirit. Or maybe I hit my head?” He shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “So you’re saying you’ve been seeing a girl, possibly not real, and decided to strip naked in the middle of the forest when you saw her once more?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, his frown deepening. “Okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“It is weird, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, motioning around them. “Do you see anyone else here? Anyone at all?”

Dean looked around the clearing again, trying to find any trace of her. There was nothing, just the trees, the snow, and the silent forest. No footprints, no clothes, no evidence that anyone other than him had been there at all. And yet, he could still feel her, the way her body had moved against his, the way her voice had whispered his name in the quiet of the night.

“I swear, it was real” Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I felt it.”

Sam sighed, getting Dean’s jacket from the ground and tossing it to him. “Whatever you felt, we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. We’ll figure it out later.”

Dean caught the jacket, wrapping it around himself with a huff. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, or if anything had happened at all, but there was still an ache in his chest, a feeling like he’d left something behind in that clearing. Or maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe the forest had cast some kind of spell on him, drawing him into some half-dream state where reality and fantasy blurred together. He wasn’t sure anymore. Was he— was he one of those victims he read about? But why does he remember it then? 

As he followed Sam out of the clearing, Dean glanced back one last time. The trees stood tall and silent, like keeping the secret of the girl’s presence. There was no sign of her. No shimmering figure stepping from the shadows, no soft voice calling him back.

But for just a second, he thought he saw something. — a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a faint, glowing shimmer in the air.

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe… just maybe… she'd been real after all.

Sam glanced over at him, frowning. “Dean, you okay? You look… weird.”

Dean smirked, pulling the jacket tighter around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wondering if I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

Sam groaned. “Probably. Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes before you start hallucinating snow fairy porn again.”

Dean chuckled, though his mind lingered on the thought. Snow fairies, huh? He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder — had it been real? Or had it just been a fever dream? He’d never know for sure. But either way… he wasn’t complaining.

"Next time, though" he muttered under his breath, "I’m bringing a blanket."

Don’t even get me started. The crack fic muse made me do it. Not that I mind.🤭

Let me know what you think.

And have a nice day!🤍

[court-jobi]

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink.  So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?  

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking. 

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded. 

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this–  black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group. 

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive’ in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair. 

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word. 

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?" 

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa  flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin.  Now more than ever,  he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once. 

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about “immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’  brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong . 

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way. 

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace. 

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye–  when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch. 

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio. 

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’,  you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape. 

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing. 

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either. 

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before…  this cements each and every one as valid. 

He likes you. He really likes you. 

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again, 

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there,"  your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now. 

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain." 

You bristled in good humor, 

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same. 

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked. 

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well. 

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…" 

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

 “–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully  interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals. 

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right? 

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know. 

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space. 

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..." 

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required. 

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~" 

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely." 

He kept your  sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural. 

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it.  Well then. 

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed. 

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,”  Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough." 

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed," 

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it. 

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor- 

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous.  That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch. 

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.” 

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa. 

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you. 

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months. 

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you.  He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy.  Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.” 

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah. 

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking–  you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it. 

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway. 

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.” 

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name. 

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside?  It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a  glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave. 

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do.  Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’. 

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it. 

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows,  stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places. 

One constant he has found helps, has been you. 

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same. 

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever. 

You lean on a hip, closer to him. 

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them. 

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark, 

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?” 

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye. 

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.  

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration. 

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore. 

[juicedaloe]

me and my gf :3 (she is made of water)

[firestorm09890]

"Is he called the 'Viper' because he bites people" -woman who likes to bite whatever she can and does not realize she's a vampire

"No, it's a figure of speech. He sounds irritating but is probably a good strategist" -military strategist many find irritating to deal with because mentally she never left The War

"Whoever made this corridor purple with nothing in it must be a terrible leader. You always need to think about morale" -the same woman, whose usual solution for low morale in her teammates is "stop whining. manager we should kill them"

"the sephirot should have just had a fistfight instead of badmouthing each other for eternity" -Outis again

"Hod is too overprotective" -you'll never guess

[zytes]

9.16.24 / 9.17.24 - september supermoon

[iamacolor]

Will you really be okay...leaving me behind like this?

MOON IN THE DAY - EPISODE 12