#thank you again this rocks i feel so special

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you. 

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted. 

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you. 

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother. 

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar. 

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.” 

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned. 

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes. 

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned. 

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

“So…”

You went silent again. 

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with. 

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups? 

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him. 

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you. 

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean. 

“Come on!” Dean urged you. 

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered. 

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked. 

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?” 

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you. 

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man. 

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture. 

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed. 

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh. 

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!” 

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention. 

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up. 

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s. 

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly. 

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently. 

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her. 

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded. 

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it. 

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.” 

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates. 

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered. 

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow. 

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse. 

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body. 

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body. 

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it. 

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again. 

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison. 

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door. 

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case. 

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling. 

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply. 

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

[nouies]

lou!! how was it? how are you feeling!!

HIIIIII! omg idk where to begin.

i’ve been spending the last four days with Anitra @allwaswell16 and it’s been absolutely amazing! we got to see lots of cool stuff for the first time together, or for the second time in some cases. sometimes it shows when you’ve known a person online for seven years or so bc it’s so easy when it comes to hang out “in real life” 🥹

so anyway, we had been so lucky with mexico city’s traffic for the first two days (even on friday which was also pay day), but yesterday we got to experience the real chaos (and the scam that has become uber), so we couldn’t get there by the time doors opened and we missed Giant Rocks and the special merch for mexico city (Anitra got us merch anyway and we’re twining), but i was mostly sad abt missing my chance to finally meet An @lemelous (we’re going to meet soon so it’s fine but also it would’ve made my night way better that it already was!)

before the show, we got to trade some friendship bracelets and we got the material for the fan projects!

i got to meet in person my friend Fer @fforever-dreaming alongside with Mery @fuchsiasea (who i’m going to see very soon too!) and her sister. we only had a little time to talk but it was definitely one of the parts i was looking forward the most and a highlight of the night.

SO THE SHOW. it’s going to sound cliché but it’s an experience that you have to live it to understand it. that moment when the playlist pre-show suddenly stops and you see the stage is all ready, and then a couple of minutes after the lights go off and you know it’s starting??? priceless! i screamed a lot when Louis came out on stage and i just couldn’t really process it that i was finally seeing him after two long years!!! (which i know it’s a privilege itself bc there’s ppl who haven’t seen him).

when it finally clicked to me that he was there, i noticed the shirt which i LOVED! he looks so beautiful in polo shirts and especially that colour! (i especially loved that it was red bc it’s one of our national colours too).

it felt like it was a song after the other with no breaks. idk how the ppl watching the live-streaming felt but it went too fast! and there were so many emotions in the air! i screamed, i sang, i jumped, i participated in the projects, i teared up a bit during certain parts, I LAUGHED he’s so funny and so grateful for everything, that i just wanted to put him in a pocket and take him with me lol.

i couldn’t tell you which songs i enjoyed the most bc honestly i loved them all. i’m not a person who watches livestreams from fans, and even sometimes the videos i watch them with no audio just to see if i can make gifs from them lol so everything was a surprise for me and i loved it! i didn’t notice we were missing a song until almost at the very end but personally i didn’t need it bc he gave us so much of him already. i definitely wanted to listen to bigger than me bc it was my most listened to song in 2022 and i didn’t want to miss it. but like i said, i loved all the songs, the chats, the projects!!!

a quick parenthesis abt the projects. so originally there were three: sibwawc, walls, and saturdays. what you saw on the videos going around and the kmm project wasn’t talked abt (as far as i know, maybe i’m wrong), but we did it last year (thanks to the chilean fans of course) so i guess everyone knew that part was coming and just did it. like it looked so coordinated but it wasn’t planned (again, as far as i know) before hand. i obviously couldn’t see the rainbow lights from my section bc we were holding the same colour but when i saw the video and i saw that it worked, i loved it. and i guess you’ve seen the video where the crowd screamed “for every question why, you were my because” and it shows the crowd? we formed the mexican flag there. for saturdays i also think the project worked? i haven’t seen videos but if i’m honest i wanted to film that song for my friend who couldn’t be there so i did the project for half the song lol

the fireworks and confetti after silver tongues were so cool! i wasn’t expecting them so i was filming the whole stage and not really zooming on him? so when the fireworks showed up i felt like a child! it was just pure and genuine happiness in that moment.

lately i’ve been enjoying concerts more than when i was younger, idk why, but i scream more and jump more, and just live in the moment. and this concert even if i felt it was too short, it was still one of the best experiences ever!! i love Louis so much and i love my friends! 🫶🏻

[spindaonateaspoon]

@arentordinarypeople-adorable I am missing you directly on the lips this is the nicest gift I've gotten all year ❤️

[bettysupremacy]

Could I request something with James? Where reader lashes out at him and she had arguments with her ex a lot and expected this (her lash out) to get into a really big argument but he’s just like „okay noted“ and super kind about it (a little bit inspired by all my ghosts by lizzy)

(You can obviously change stuff to your liking and no pressure)

all hail lizzy mcalpine. i loved this request and i love james! thank you!

“Im serious, James!” You exclaim, a little louder than necessary. “I miss you! You’re always at practice, or with the boys, and I love the boys! But I miss you!”

He pauses in the doorway, startled by your reaction.

Remus and Sirius miss me too, you expect him to say, or rather, I can’t miss rugby cause you miss me a little more. You anticipate the sting of his words before they come, bracing yourself as you lean back against the kitchen countertop. They don’t come.

“And I miss your hugs.” You tear up pitifully, trying again, rather weakly, as he walks over. You don’t want an argument, but why isn’t it coming? “You’ve been gone so much. You know I hate doing the dishes.”

He grabs ahold of your elbow, his thumb digging into the crease as he pulls you close. Your palms dig into your eyes as your forehead dips against his chest. The way your shoulders shake aches him. He should never be the reason for your tears.

He’s been gone more recently, yes, and he feels terrible about it. If he’s not at rugby, the boys want to see him, and if he’s not with the boys, he’s at rugby. He’s missed you so much recently, he just didn’t know you mirrored his emotions.

“I’m the worst,” James says sincerely. “I didn’t know I was making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, stress evident in your choked voice. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or guilty, by crying I mean.”

He rocks you back and forth, arms securely over your shoulders. His embrace is a little tight, but this is the longest hug you’ve had this week and you can’t bring yourself to say something.

“Please don’t say that, please don’t feel bad for crying.”

“It’s totally manipulative though, I know, I’m sorry.”

He pulls back, searching for something in your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just-“

He looks so sad and confused as you pause midway. Helpless, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. Quietly, you feel bad for giving him the crease between his brows.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” James appalls. “I’m going mad knowing I’m the dolt that made you feel like this.”

“James-“

“I’d totally beat someone up if they treated you like this, I would hate them forever.”

“Stop.”

“No, seriously!” He doubles down. “I would never forgive them.”

He’s so unapologetically him it aches you deeply. He’s rosy, smiles and boyish giggles. Warm in the summer, and warm in the winter. Radiating a kind of glow that only very special people are able to emanate. Sometimes you secretly feel like you’ll never be able to glow like him, but he always manages to bring it out of you when you’re around him.

You frown suddenly. “I’m so tired of missing you, Jamie.”

“I miss you too, lovely.” He’s serious again. “How can we get through this?”

You shrug, unused to this gentle treatment you so desperately deserve.

“Should we install weekly dates, hmm?” James asks. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

You shrug again feeling weak with emotion.

“Or tell the boys to bugger off,” he continues without giving you room to speak. “You’re much too kind to say it but I know, my love.”

You laugh quietly, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. He’s fond, smiling as he watches down to you.

“Oh, my girl,” he croons, grabbing your warm face to cradle. “Totally not to pull the victim card, but I missed you so much more.”

“Really?”

“I moon over you while you’re away. The boys are sick of it.”

He leans down nuzzling his cheek against yours, pulling back to kiss the corner of your mouth, the side of your nose, the apple of your cheek. You don’t know what to do with yourself, letting your wringing hands float up to hold his shoulders.

“Thank you for telling me.” He says honestly.

You reel earnestly. Only James Potter could thank you for trying to start an argument.

“You’re welcome.”

[taurusdesign]

"Our Little Ones" Collection

Hi beloved simmers!

I'm finally here. I'm sorry the set is delayed again. When I look at your supportive comments, although these delays are not a problem for you, I still feel bad. 

The set contains a total of 50 items for infants, toddlers, kids and pets. Although there are mostly items for kids, there are also a nice amount of items for the rest. I also tried to do elements on the set that I hadn't seen on the sim before. It's like a Pillow Fort, a Tea Party Set, a Pet House that can be embedded in the wall. I would have loved to have made the tea party functional. But it's functional as a dollhouse. So it might look like your little sims are having a tea party with their toys.

My inspiration on the set was the Pottery Barn's Catalina set. Of course, since everything I wanted was not available in this set, I designed many things myself.

The items included in the set are below:

Babies (Infants and Toddlers)

2 types of Toddler Beds

Bedding for Toddler Beds

2 types of Cribs

Changing Station

Drawer Chest

Dresser

Extra-Wide Dresser

High Chair

Nightstand

Potty Chair

Rocking Chair (Growing Together Required)

Wall Mirror

Kids

4 types of Single Beds

4 types of Double Beds

2 types of Bunk Beds *

Bedding for Single Beds

Bedding for Double Beds

Bedding for Bunk Beds *

Bookcase

2 types of Books for Bookcase

Chair with Backpack

Desk Storage

Desk Storage with Hutch

Desk Storage with Smart Hutch

Decor for Desk Storage with Hutch

Writing Desk

Dresser

Nightstand

Shelves

Skateboard with Books

Tea Party Set

Toy Box

Pillow Fort ** (Dream Home Decorator Required)

Wardrobe

Pets (Cats and Dogs Required)

Pets Bowl ***

Cat Tree

Pet House

Litter Box

Pet Bed ****

Scratch Post

* If the bunks cannot be used by your sim, please place them as follows.

1. Place top bunk bedding

2. Place bottom bedding

3. Place frames

** I recommend that you reduce the size by 1 when placing the pillow fort. You can also use the normal size. Fully optional. 

*** When you fill the food into the pet bowl, the bowl on the far right fills with water.

**** I wanted to make this item in pet size, but it became a regular loveseat size. I don't know how it happened.

I hope you like it and it's worth the wait. 💖💖💖

Special thanks to one of my favorite CC creator @myshunosun for fabric texture ❤️

Bedding patterns:

Kids Pattern Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Summer Pattern Vectors by Vecteezy

Animals Vectors by Vecteezy

Public Release: October 9, 2023

AVAILABLE FOR EVERYONE!

DOWNLOAD AT:

CURSEFORGE

PATREON

[inklessletter]

The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.

Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.

Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.

It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.

Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.

So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.

And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.

He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.

He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.

Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.

The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.

Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.

He can't.

His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.

Lord knows it would be the first time.

The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.

He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.

The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."

It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.

"Yeah. I bet you do."

He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.

"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."

He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."

The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.

The question goes unspoken.

The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.

And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.

So for once in my life

let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I don't kiss and tell

Little drabbles where creator!reader gets pregnant and the archons get into a witch hunt

Wc: ~600

Sumeru’s specialty tea is delicious, the lightest taste of anise and black tea with an array of spices that you couldn't even begin to pinpoint. The youngest archon besides you is talking your ear off about the origins and constitution of the tea, the exports it has and how it is different from the teas you tasted in Liyue. 

The only thing souring the atmosphere was the bickering and yelling voices from across the table

“Your dirty citizens are libertine enough to attempt to lie besides a god!” The electro archon points her finger at the anemo archon, her nose scrunched and her teeth bared

“Mine?! I doubt anyone would dare to! At most I imagine they wanted to be close friends!”

The tsaritsa rolls her eyes and mutters something along the lines of ‘very close friends it seems’

“You doubt? You don't sound too sure about that. I'm confident nobody from my nation would dare to make advances on them” zhongli blows on his cup and sips on it

“Didn't the trip get behind schedule around sumeru? I remember Neuvillette was stressed because the welcome had to be rearranged by a week” Furina grabs a piece of cake, playing with the cherry on top.

“ah?!” Nahida gasps as she is chatting with you. She taps her chin ”I can't remember a chance they had alone so I would say it's impossible”

“And why did the trip take an extra week? I was never truly sure about that” zhongli asks her 

“Oh, I was dead set on going to Aaru village and having a quick view to the pyramids” you chuckle a bit, seeing how nahida was upset at the accusations.

“Isn't it weird that Miss Furina is here too? Even if we named it archon meeting it's meant more as a head of state so I was expecting the great judge to be seated here” Raiden points that out

“E-eh?!” She gasps as she leans away from the purple piercing gaze “He was just unable to come so he asked me” 

“Isn't that convenient?”

The tsaritsa sighs and stops tapping her fingers on the wood table. Now looking at you she says “I'm sorry if it's too impolite but can't you cut us the chase and tell us who it was?”

You look away, a tiny strained laugh slipping through your teeth “I think I prefer his safety, thanks” 

“No, thank you”

“At the very least what nation is he from?” 

The next months there was special attention paid to particular carvings or newly acquired habits

“Isn't it curious how they are suddenly so in love with grape juice? Didn't your nation have a winemaker who preferred grape juice?” The tsaritsa asks, a stiff smile painted on her face.

“And didn't they also like a seafood soup that also happened to be one of your harbinger's specialties?” venti matches her energy, already fed up with the fourth accusation 

“Don't make me send someone to kick your ass again”

“I doubt a pile of ashes could put up much of a fight” 

“Our grace has been taking longer walks lately, buer, maybe they are trying to get closer to the dendro element” 

“they told me they wanted to feel the breeze better, that might be it, Beel”

“Why do I get dragged into every discussion?!” Venti yelps from the kitchen

“Doctor baizhu told me to keep an eye on them, the pregnancy seems to have made them crave rocks

“Isn't baizhu from Liyue, lord of Geo?” 

“And also ice cubes, tsaritsa. It reminds me, wasn't one of your harbingers also in Liyue at that time to close a deal with the Tianquan?”

“Why does everyone think is someone from my nation did it?!”

“Nation of freedom…”

“The biggest wine and sparkling wine importer…”

“You used your week to go bar hopping..”

“You are a weak and unimposing leader…”

“That part sounded more personal than anything!”

[steveshairychest]

Steve hates February 14th.

It's a constant reminder that he is alone, that no one ever wants to stick around with him long enough to celebrate Valentine's Day. Most of them leave after one night together.

It's also his birthday. The former heartthrob of Hawkins High was born on Valentine's Day, but he can't even get himself a date. Or a birthday party. Every year that they were around, his parents would go out for their annual Valentine's Day dinner and leave Steve to celebrate his birthday on his own. He stopped associating the day with his birthday by the time he was 13.

Now, he spent the day giving out roses and chocolates to all his friends so that they feel special, so that they don't feel as left out and forgotten as he did for his whole life.

Dustin and Mike fake gag when he gives them both a box of their favourite chocolate and Will blushes and stumbles through a thank you while holding his chocolates to his chest. He got Max and Lucas a big box of chocolates to share on their date.

Robin smacks a dramatic wet kiss to his cheek when he gifts her a bunch of sunflowers (her favourite flower), she also slips something into his pocket when no one's looking and whispers, "Happy birthday." He pulls her into a tight hug and thanks her quietly.

Steve spent a lot of time debating what to get Eddie. Their friendship felt like something more, but neither of them has put a label on what the hell they are to each other, so he decides to keep it simple. He rocks up to Eddie's new trailer with a box of chocolates under his arm and a small bunch of roses clutched tightly in his hands. He's so fucking nervous he forgets to knock.

After gently knocking, the door is pulled open and Steve nearly stumbles down the steps because Eddie is wearing a fucking suit. An all black three piece suit with his hair tied up. He looks hot. So hot all Steve can do is stare.

Eddie groans and runs a hand down his face, careful not to smudge his eye-liner. "Damn it, Harrington. You're not supposed to be here." He sounded... disappointed.

Steve takes in Eddie's outfit again and the pieces slowly start to come together in his mind. How could he be so stupid? "Shit, sorry, Eds. Are you on a date with someone? Nevermind. I don't want to know. I'll just, uh, go. Sorry to interrupt." He turns away as quick as possible and hurries down the few steps.

He should have known. Eddie doesn't want to spend Valentine's Day with him. They're just friends. God, he's so stupid.

A hand gently grabs his arm and stops his hurried retreat. "Steve, wait." Eddie stands in front of him, his heeled dress shoes making him slightly taller than Steve. "I don't have a date with anyone."

Steve finds that hard to believe. He's in a suit for fuck sake. He's even brushed his hair and styled it so nicely. He's lying to make Steve feel better. "Whatever, Eds. I really don't care– "

Eddie surprises him in that moment. He reaches out and holds Steve's face so, so gently in his hands. Steve doesn't know what to do, he's frozen in shock and unable to look away from Eddie, who's standing so close now. He brushes a thumb gently across Steve's flushed cheek. "Steve, I don't have a date because I was on my way to your place. To ask you."

"Ask me? On a date?" Steve is struggling to wrap his head around the situation. Having Eddie so close is causing all coherent thoughts in his head to disintegrate. All he can focus on is the smell of Eddie's cologne and the cool sting of his rings on his skin and the slight shine on his lips because, fuck, he's wearing lip gloss.

Eddie laughs and steps even closer, their noses almost brushing as he invades Steve's space. "I've been wanting to ask you out for weeks, Stevie. I thought today would be the best day. I even bought you a birthday present."

Steve wants to cry. He wants to cry and laugh and kiss Eddie Munson until he can't breathe. "How do you know it's my birthday?" Dustin doesn't even know it's his birthday. Hell, he's pretty sure his own parents don't know it's his birthday.

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against Steve's, the intimate action steals Steve's breath away. He's too nervous to move, to even breathe. They've never been this close before. Eddie closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment before answering Steve's question. "Dude, I've been madly in love with you for an entire year. It'd be pretty shitty if I didn't know when your birthday was." He says it so casually, so easily, like he's talking about the weather.

Steve can't even be angry that he called him 'Dude' in the middle of his confession because Eddie is pulling away, his eyes full of worry as he takes in Steve's shocked expression. "Fuck, that was too much. I'm sorry –"

Steve drops the roses and the chocolates, grabs the collar of Eddie's suit, and shuts his rambling up with a kiss.

[toxicanonymity]

I love your fic!

Can we get some Joel/Reader noncon somnophlia out here???

What you're missing

1.2k | dark!Joel x f!Reader | masterlist

Yes, ty for asking

I8+ noncon somnophilia, mild manhandling Joel POV

Joel wakes up in the middle of the night, cock as hard as a steel rod, with you in his arms.  You and Joel are sharing a sleeping bag for warmth, so you’re both nude - more body heat that way - and he’s spooning you.  You could feel him harden before you fell asleep, and you knew it was only natural, so you ignored it.  You were getting warm and wet yourself, and for a moment, you felt guilty.  You’re not exactly  single, but your partner was needed at the clinic and stayed behind.  Meanwhile, you were sent on a week-long hunting trip to provide your foraging and tree-climbing skills.  The rest of the hunting party got killed off, and now it’s just you and Joel.  It’s too risky to build a fire. Plus, you've encountered clickers, so you have to be quiet. 

So you might have felt guilty for a moment about your body's natural human arousal, but you shouldn’t have.  It’s strictly about the mission between you and Joel.  At this point, you're lucky to be alive, and you have Joel to thank.  A hard cock resting harmlessly against you is the least of your worries.   Attractive as he may be with his sad eyes, messy hair, and patchy beard.  Strong as he may be with his hulking biceps and thick neck. . . he’s a hunter, and you’re a gatherer.  That’s all you are together, and that’s all you’ll be.  

-

And now, Joel's raging erection rests against your crack while you’re sound asleep.  He can’t remember the last time he was this hard.  Maybe never.  He scoots back just enough to adjust its position.  He nestles his length between your thighs, resting against your warmth in a special nook made just for him.  He rocks his hips forward to get comfortable, and the rest of his body nestles into yours again, with his strong arm draped over your body.  

His massive palm finds your breast and flattens it into your chest as he pulls you closer, your spine against his broad chest and stomach, which is just soft enough to be comfortable for you. The feeling of your nipple against his palm makes his hips rock into you once more. This time, as his cock moves against you, he feels something new – an irresistible wetness between your legs.  He rolls his hips into you at a slow rhythm, his stiff, thick member sliding against your wet heat, nestled between your folds like guardrails on a track.  His tip drags firmly over your clit before meeting cool air on the other side. 

You moan in your sleep and he stills himself.  You push your ass into him and tilt your hips in your sleep.  His breath deepens, and his heart rate quickens.  His arousal swells even harder.  When he rolls his hips into you again, the swollen head of his cock hitches briefly at your entrance and he has to suppress a groan.  He keeps slowly fucking the sleeve formed by your thighs and folds.   

Joel has never wanted someone so badly.  And even in your sleep, your body must want him, too.  When Joel is mid-thrust, your hips tilt again, catching his tip with your warm, wet hole. Desire seizes him entirely.  He freezes with the tip of his cock nestled half inside you.  He slows his breathing to emulate sleeping before cupping your breast again.  Your ass nudges back into him as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet entrance.  He inhales deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself, but breathing in your scent only hastens his need to be inside you.  

Joel can feel your insides make way for his fat cock as he pushes a little more inside.  He moves his hand to your hip for leverage as he inches further, about half his cock sheathed by your tight pussy at this point.  He pauses to breathe, and you push back on him in your sleep with a moan, taking him further inside you.  Joel retreats slightly, seeking more friction after getting that taste.  Then, his hard cock plunges into you, slowly but decisively, all the way to the hilt.  You’re so snug and warm, you feel like absolute heaven wrapped around him.  It’s a tight squeeze and only made possible by how wet you are.  He stays there, all the way inside, just barely rocking his hips, hand on your breast. Then, with time, his motion becomes less subtle.  

-

You awake with a  gasp to a fullness you’ve never felt before.  It’s nothing but bliss until you get your bearings.  You moan as he bottoms out again, and he’s emboldened by your sound of pleasure.  He stops holding back.  His hard shaft pumps in and out of you, kissing your g-spot.  He grunts and the sound shakes you back to reality.  You’re startled by the realization that this is real. You had been floating in some realm where it was just this disembodied cock, a dream man's arms wrapped around you, giving you the best fuck of your life.  As your knees brush the nylon of the sleeping bag, you jolt at the unmistakable knowledge that this is real, and Joel Miller is inside you.  

You squirm and his arm wraps tight around you, his hand clamps down on your mouth, and he says, “shhhh, it’s okay sugar.”  His hips only pause for a moment before he starts fucking you again, hard and slow.  “Just relax," he says into the back of your earlobe, then nibbles it and kisses your neck. “Let yourself have this.”  You might as well enjoy it.  You'll cope with reality later.  

You marvel at how he fills you up.  It's like he's a part of you. His stiff, thick cock—stiffer and thicker than you’ve ever had–hitting just the right spot.  His rhythm is perfect, and somehow–maybe because he saved your life–you feel so safe in his arms.  He engulfs you entirely and tightens his embrace in rhythm. His hand drifts to your clit.  It’s like he’s fucking you with his whole body.   It doesn't take long until you feel the familiar pressure pounding in your core, begging to release, and then it snaps.  You gasp as your clit pulses and your walls flutter around his cock.  He fucks you through your orgasm, saying, "that's it sugar, good girl, let it ride" and you succumb to the pleasure entirely, writhing in his arms, trying not to moan too loud.  

He groans softly into your neck and pulses inside you. You do nothing to stop him. He cups your breast and digs his nose into the nape of your neck, grunting as his hot load fills you up.  Then, he stays inside.  He strokes your naked body tenderly, and your eyes well up in tears.  Not just because it happened.  Not just because he did this.  Because now you know what you're missing, and you'll know it for the rest of your life. 

-

Check out for survival 2 (one shot) for a similar situation but you're secretly awake.

Also, make sure you read the dbf (pt. 4) 🤐 (but it’s not the same).

The foraging concept is inspired by The Forager by @dark-scape (highly recommend, gigolo!Joel), not the same reader or joel.

-

all joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea

[merakiui]

risky rascality (tsum sex).

azutsum x (female) reader x azul ashengrotto cw: nsfw, non-con, tsum sex, tsum has a dick, ntr, shameless smut, loss of virginity, cumflation, characters written as 18+ note - don't underestimate the importance of body language. (or: azul's tsum misreads your intentions and fucks you.)

You’ve found yourself in Azul’s VIP room plenty of times in the past, so it’s impossible to explain the anxiety that washes over you. Sudden like a devastating tidal wave, it rocks you to your core the moment Azul offers you a casual smile. He’s so charming. You almost forget you’re here for your usual tutoring session and not a study date. One can dream.

“Before we begin, I’ll have to step out for a moment. There’s something that requires my immediate attention. I shouldn’t be too long. In the meantime, would you mind getting your notes out and turning to the chapter we last left off at?”

Having been so caught up in admiring the way he stands in the doorway, you startle at the sound of his smooth voice. “Next chapter… R-Right! Yes, of course! I’ll do that. You do your thing. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, he shuts the door behind him. The stiffness in your shoulders ebbs away then, and you slouch back against the sofa. With an embarrassed groan, you drag your hands down your face.

Be normal for one minute, (Name). This isn’t anything special.

Something nudges your thigh and you lower your arms to find Azul’s tsum pushing your textbook towards you. He struggles more than he makes any apparent success, and it’s a cute sight that has a smile sprouting on your lips.

“Thanks, little guy.” You lift the book up to spare him of the burden and set it on the table. A cup of tea rests inches away, steam curling from the liquid in fragrant tendrils. The tsum blinks up at you, wordless like always. “You don’t have to stay for this, you know. I’m sure you’d much rather explore campus.”

The tsum stares and then, as if your words have somehow offended him, he rears forward to knock his head into your thigh again. His fedora falls off in the process, but he pays it no mind and continues to bump into your leg.

“Okay, okay! You can stay.” You laugh and hold your hands up in surrender. “I never said you had to leave.”

Lifting the tiny fedora from the sofa, you place it atop the tsum’s head. It’s uncanny how much of Azul you see in him. Even the beauty mark is in the right place… How peculiar.

Seeming pleased with this, the tsum scrambles to get into your lap. You place your hand under him and help him up. Even though he doesn’t have a mouth, he looks very happy here, bouncing up and down with what you think is a show of enthusiasm.

“You’re adorable, Azutsum. I wish I could say that to your counterpart. He’s great, you know? The most amazing guy I’ve ever met.” You squish Azutsum between your hands and sigh dreamily. “I’m actually not that bad at magic history. I just pretended so I could spend more time with Azul outside of class.”

Azutsum narrows his eyes at you.

“You disapprove?”

He squirms out of your grasp and jumps up towards your chest. You catch him before he can fall back onto your lap. It doesn’t look like open disapproval. Maybe the tsum just doesn’t understand your feelings. You don’t expect him to. If he’s anything like Azul, he’s probably more focused on the lounge or money. Azul did mention he spent a good half of the morning testing the tsum’s affinity for business.

You glance at your textbook. One day you’ll confess. It won’t be today, though. With a sigh, you resign yourself to your reality and place the tsum on the table. You manage to open the book and flick through a few pages before Azutsum pounces on top. He glowers at you, demanding attention. In a way, when he isn’t being expressive like this, he reminds you of a turtle. That thought prompts a chuckle from you and you nudge him away gently.

“I’d love to play more, but I’ve gotta start reviewing. It’ll look odd if Azul walks in and I haven’t made any progress.”

Despite this, Azutsum persists. He prods at your hand, squeaking at you in what sounds like annoyance. A needy thing, this tsum. You’ve never known Azul to be so shamelessly direct, so it takes you by surprise when his tsum rolls around to wrinkle the pages. You gasp just as it tears.

“Don’t be so careless!” You grab hold of the tsum before he can cause further damage to your precious book. Pinching his cheek in light admonishment, you hold him close to your face. “All right, you have my attention. Please don’t destroy my books.”

The tsum beams.

“Aren’t you proud? Seriously… I’m only forgiving you because you look like my crush,” you mutter, your cheeks warming.

If only Azul was this hungry for my attention…

Azutsum wriggles happily in your hands. It’s a challenge to stay angry at such a cute plush. A prisoner to his charms, you pet him affectionately. He seems to bask in your touch, turning over on his back so that you can give his belly the same amount of love.

“Maybe not a turtle. You’re more like a puppy.”

Smiling to yourself, you rub the tsum’s belly. He seems to appreciate the gesture, for he squeaks in excitement. If he wasn’t sentient, you’d probably mistake him for a pillow. He’s soft like one, squishy like a plush. You knead him every now and then, pressing your fingers into his abdomen. You’re sure there’s nothing but stuffing inside, but a morbidly curious part of you wonders if he has organs and blood. Unlikely. But it’s still fun to fantasize over the wildly impossible.

“Do you like that?” You watch gleefully as the tsum squeezes his eyes shut and squirms. His squeaks are loud. “Seems like it. After this, though, I need to get back to work.”

You’re so swept up in toying with the tsum that it shocks you out of your skin when he jumps out of your arms abruptly. You assume he’s gotten tired of the teasing, but then he’s launching himself at you to tackle you onto the sofa. The force knocks you down, and you gasp as the leather cushions cradle you in the aftermath of your fall.

“Hey! What was that for?” You lift your head up to look at him. A familiar weight settles on top of you. “You’re stronger than you look…”

You gaze at Azutsum and the laughter sticks in your throat. There’s a distinctly human cock curving up along the length of your stomach, grotesquely thick and leaking pre-cum, maddeningly disproportionate. Your eyes widen, and a shard of horror lodges itself in your heart.

“W-Wait… Hold on!” You scramble to get away, but the tsum shifts so that the head of his cock presses against your skirt. You yelp when he moves again to prod at your clothed pussy. “Don’t touch there—you can’t!”

He presses inwards, blocked only by your panties, and squeaks sadly. You claw at the sofa, desperate to escape. Azutsum isn’t listening. He continues to rut uselessly between your thighs. Much to your disbelief, the pressure of his cock straining to find its home inside your tight hole leaves you soaking through your panties. If you aren’t thinking about it—about the fact that this insane cock belongs to this little tsum—you almost trick yourself into picturing Azul leaning over you on the sofa. He’d grab your hips, yank you to meet him halfway, slot himself inside slowly… He’d praise you for taking him so well, whisper the sweetest of filth, kiss you dizzy!

That sugar-encrusted delusion shatters the moment his fleshy head catches on your panties. Somehow they’re pushed aside as he bullies his way closer to your cunt. Your eyes snap open just as he pushes inside.

“No, no, no! A-Azutsum, don’t do—ooh!”

Your pleas taper off into a low groan just as he slides in. It feels strange, a foreign fit. Is this really going to be your first time? With withering resolve, you reach for the tsum in hopes of tugging him away from your pussy. He draws back, searching for the right rhythm, and sinks further into wet walls. The breath is punched out of your lungs once he’s managed to fit half of his absurd length inside you.

Tears gather in your eyes. “Take it out… Please… It feels weird and—” he bucks forwards and you suck in a breath through your teeth— “h-hurts!”

Azutsum squeaks softly at you. Consolation? Maybe. Or perhaps it’s a parody of a sweet nothing. How is this possible? He shouldn’t be this big. He shouldn’t even have this anatomy to begin with! Where was he even hiding such a monstrous size?

Your arm falls over your face. Despite everything, the fit is snug. You’re not sure you can take another inch. Azutsum disagrees with this unvoiced sentiment, instead choosing to fuck in and out of you until you’re properly slick. It leaves you shuddering with a strange desire—whether that’s to get away or stay, you can’t determine.

Submitting to your fate—though your hips flinch with every thrust—you allow your mind to wander. You envision Azul and wish he was here in place of this devious tsum. Maybe then you’d be more receptive. Maybe then you wouldn’t be crying. Maybe then the drag of his cock along your walls would actually feel satisfying.

Azutsum’s squeaks join the obscene squelch of skin on skin. It’s noisy and gross. You smell yourself on the air—the unmistakable odor of salt and sin. He fucks like he’s running late, driving his cock as deep as it can possibly go. Your back arches up towards the invisible body that ought to be hovering over you right now. If it was Azul, you’d loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to taste him.

It’s not Azul. It will never be Azul.

All you can do is lie there and take it. At some point, the stretch is less of a pain and more of a unique fullness. It’s not unpleasant, weirdly. Rather, you find yourself grinding down to meet each of his sporadic thrusts, chasing a high that’s so conflicting.

What am I doing? This is so wrong! you think, writhing like a fish out of water. And yet you can’t stop.

“Azutsum, please—” You gasp sharply when he hits a particular spot deep within you, your eyes rolling back into your skull. That’s…not your cervix, is it? There’s no way… Surely he didn’t do that. But then the tip of his cock prods at it again, this time with more insistence, and you throw your head back and howl. “Wait, slow down! Hurts—that hurts!”

Tears trail down your cheeks. You wipe them away to no avail. They just keep pouring, made plentiful by the cock ramming against a place that’s never been reached before. You cry out again when he eases out partially and slams back in with forceful determination. His motions are sloppy now, a stuttering, jerky movement that fills you with more cock than you’ve ever taken in your life before. Your fingers and dildo can’t compare to this—nothing can.

In just a few more riotous strokes, the tsum burrows his cock all the way to the hilt and releases inside with a strangled squeak. Thick, warm cum floods your womb at once, so copious it leaves your stomach with a slight bloat. Dazed, just managing to collect yourself, you press down against your belly to feel the bulge of his cock.

“Please…” you whisper, panting, “pull out already…”

Azutsum starts to do that, only to thrust back in. His cock keeps all of his cum effectively plugged.

“No more… I can’t take anymore. Please…”

But he’s already moving, intent on going at it until his balls are drained and you’re properly filled. In the meantime, you shut your eyes and welcome the chimera of an absentee Azul.

You’re not sure how long it’s been or how many rounds you’ve gone, but by the end of it you’re stuffed. Azutsum finally eases out after so much time spent thrust up inside. Shivering, you peer over the deceptive dome that is your stomach. If anyone were to see you, they’d certainly think you were pregnant and not just packed full of cum. You don’t want to know where such a little tsum gets so much virility. Best not to question it, otherwise you’ll drive yourself mad trying to figure it out.

Azutsum climbs up onto your rounded belly, gazing down at you with newfound fondness in his blue eyes. You’re not sure where his cock’s retreated to now. At least it’s over. Defeated, you reach up and pat his head.

The door to the VIP room creaks open then. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, (Name). Some nuisances—ah, I mean customers—don’t know when to—” Azul chokes on the rest of his sentence, his wide-eyed gaze drawn to you splayed out on the leather sofa. Cum dribbles from your abused cunt, pooling below on the cushion.

You can’t bear to look at him, so you bury your face in your hands. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry! I’ll clean it. Just please… Please don’t look.” Shyly, you squeeze your legs shut in hopes of preserving what’s left of your dignity. You’ve never felt humiliation as hot and heavy as this before.

Azutsum squeaks a joyful greeting.

You can’t see him, but his face has exploded with a fiery embarrassment. He’s doing everything he can to avoid staring at you. No matter how hard he tries, his eyes are drawn to your stomach, to your pussy clenched around nothing and leaking cum, to the devilishly proud tsum perched on top… Most importantly, you miss the way his slacks tighten in the crotch and the way he swallows thickly.

Clearing his throat, his words awkward, Azul says, “P-Perhaps we ought to postpone today’s session…”

It’s for the best. He’s not sure he’d be able to explain his reaction if you were to catch it.

[yourelliewillms]

i saw ur post and figured you received my request(my 2 brain cells worked hard on that)

if it was me then i was requesting for a clumsy and chaotic reader with a tired ellie/she is so done (i think that was it, my memory sucks btw😍)

ellie x chaotic!reader

headcanons

YES THAT WAS YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT AGAIN. i hope you like it !! <3

cw: little nsfw mention at the end ?

☆ when you two are pillow fighting , you'd hit her a little too aggressively on her face and all she'd do is stare at you in silence while you hug her and kiss her face as an apology. "it's okay, babe. wanna cuddle instead?" and she'd sigh when you kiss her face pretending to be tired of it but it's actually making her cheeks all red.

☆ "how did you get that bruise?" she'd ask you while looking at your knee and gently caressing the purple injury in your skin with her thumb. "no idea" you'd shrug your shoulders and just ignore it but then she'd roll her eyes and run to get you a bag of ice to put on your knee so the purple mark would go away faster.

☆ everyday she comes back home from her job, you'd run to the door as soon as you hear her keys and then greet her as a puppy. you'd jump and kiss her all over her face while she just closes her eyes and smiles as she waits for you to calm down. then, she'd give you a little and gentle kiss on your lips.

☆ when you two were teenage lovers and you had an argument in which you clearly were the one that was wrong, ellie wouldn't talk to you for days until you formally apologize to her. that apology is you standing outside her house at 3 in the morning holding a big ass sign with an "i'm sorry elz" written on it and some cringe clingy song playing loudly on your car which is usually "wouldn't change a thing" from that "camp rock 2" movie.

and if she isn't responding, you'd send her dramatic texts.

you: we're venus and mars ...... 😭😭😭😭

ellie <3: i cant.

ellie <3: sleeping.

ellie <3: 😴 zzz

you: my heart literally hurts baby pls

you: YOU (me) WE'RE FACE TO FACE BUT WE DON'T SEE EYE TO EYEEEEEE

at some point, she'd open her window and look at you until you finish singing the song. then she'd open her door and you'd run to hug her.

☆ you'd take 0.5 forehead pictures of her ALL THE TIME, you literally have a folder of pictures like that and she'd be so pissed.

☆ sometimes when she's lying on your lap and you're with your phone, you'd accidentally drop it on her face and her nose would crunch and her eyes watery. you'd gasp and cover your mouth for a few seconds and then kiss her nose gently whispering 'sorries'.

☆ ellie loves playing sports but you don't, specially those that require a ball because everytime you play volleyball or football the ball hits your face. ellie'd feel guilty and she'd run at you concerned thinking it was her fault but it's actually you who's not good at sports.

☆ you'd send her those cat memes all the time.

you: hey bbg wanna hang out

you:

ellie <3: BBG????

☆ and during sex, countless times you've hit your heads or kicked/punched her during the most interesting moments and that would just turn ellie off immediately.

[coffee-seed]

Valentine's day

Day 1: Neuvillette, Zhongli, Alhaitham

Warning: blood (on zhongli part), angst no comfort.

a/n: Valentine should be romantic and happy, but I hate those :)

Neuvillette

The Iudex of Fontaine always maintains the Fontaine rule as its number two priority, wait shouldn't it be number one? the other number has been filled in by his lovely wife of course. after married for a few years, he's now a bit understanding of human feelings, thanks to his wife teaching him about human emotions.

There's always a special day every year he always celebrates with you, like valentine, but valentine this year is different. you recently got an commission and it was a week before valentine's, he told you not too but you were stubborn enough to listen to him, so you leave and never come back. he thought you had finally left him for good because of his behavior, but no, you were actually attacked on the way home and disappeared. The fontaine has been raining for a week

But after a year passed since you last found, a researcher found your body frozen inside a block of ice, it's like you've been given cryo vision before the death took you, leaving you trapped inside this huge ice block. they took you back to fontaine to melt the ice block, after it melt everything look just fine only bruise and no deep wound, neuvillette or your husband heard this news and immediately left his job and immediately came to your side. he found you now, it's just you fell into a deep coma for quite a long time.

the Fontaine has been raining for a month straight, how strange.

Zhongli

Zhongli the most knowledgeable man you ever meet and married, he looks like a walking library that always filled with history. Valentine day is a must for you, so he always suprise you with an expensive dinner date and new outfits, we know who's mora he used.

Another Valentine's Day, but this time he wants to take you to the special place he has planned, Qinyung Peak. even though that place is full of unforgettable memories to him, he has you now he thought. he said he would go first to Qinyung peak to prepare everything and has given you a route to get there.

He thought this valentine day would be like the other year, always perfect, but don't get expectations too high he said. He realized that you hadn't come yet, even though it was already past the estimated time, he had feeling that something bad has happen, he immediately left the place and went to get you. and sure enough, he found you covered in blood on one of the rocks there, whoever killed you just woke up the former Geo Archon.

Let's say there is a powerful earthquake for more than a week until the culprit is found.

Alhaitham

people who don't know Alhaitham of course think he doesn't have a partner for valentine's day, oh but they are wrong. There is one person who is so attached to Alhaitham that many people think it is his younger siblings, even though it's not, Alhaitham is not the type of person who shows pda so your relationship is well kept secret till now.

Valentine's day has come, and you are planning to give your dear boyfriend a new book and of course chocolate too! when you knock at his door, you can hear his voice telling you to come in, he knows it's you when knocked, you have your way to knock.

You opened the door to his office and closed it again to give both of you privacy. approaching him, you handed him the new book and the chocolate at the same time, but he didn't turn to look at your gift, just told you to put the gift on the table and leave the room.

You thought that he was busy and didn't want to be disturbed, so you kiss his cheek and said goodbye to him. The next day, Alhaitham didn't come to your house to get his lunch box, so because you are a kind partner, you chose to bring his lunch box. When passing through the akademiya hall, you hear the students there talking about the acting grand sage who threw away his Valentine's chocolate.

You immediately stopped in your tracks and looked at the lunch you wanted to bring for him, 'is he going to throw it away like he did the chocolate you made yesterday?' because you were afraid that he would actually do it, you chose to give Alhaitham's lunch to his old senior Kaveh so that no food is wasted. at lunch break, Alhaitham doesn't care if he forgets to get his lunch...

it's just how Kaveh got his lunch box?

Part 2?

[ashdreams2023]

Can you please do Loki reacting to reader if they asked for him to keep his horns on while doing the dirty 🤭 and also maybe it’s usually really soft and sweet but she wants Loki to be rough and he’s initially taken aback? 🙃 -can be whatever writing style you want, thanks

The horns stay

Loki x fem reader {NSFW}

Loki loved your lip, your eyes, your hands and your curves, every inch of you made him his blood boil with heat, he wanted to take his time lavishing you and making you feel special.

"Loki" you moaned as he took off your clothes, enjoying the way you squirmed under his cool hands and your back arched.

"I’ll be there my love just one second" he pushed you into the bed, not too strong he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He takes off his armor with a flick of his finger then reaches for him helmet but your sudden movement stop him, you sit Straight on the bed and reach for his hand, you pull it away from the helmet and pull him into bed "leave it, please"

His eyes darkened before slamming his lips onto yours, your arms warped around his neck in perfect harmony, pressing your naked chests together.

"Don’t hold back, please, I want you to make me yours, all the way"

Loki cursed underneath his breath, he licked his lips and bite your bottom lip teasingly before running his hand over your chest and squeezing your breast making me moan louder.

"You want me to mark you? Bruise your pretty skin my dove?" He breathed into your ear causing you to shiver.

"Yes, yes please, do your worst to me!" Loki grinned devilishly before pulling away and flipping you on your back, making you face the huge mirror near the bed.

Loki pulled you by your hair and lifted your head up slightly so you can get a good look at yourself and him in the reflection of the mirror.

His helmet horns still stood tall and shiny on his head "Beg me more, tell me how much you want it"

"Loki, my prince, please, take me, now!"

He slammed his cock inside of you and didn’t leave you any time to adjust like he did many times before, it was exciting and you were so wet and needy, it drove him crazy.

"You like that? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?" He said thrusting rough into you, rocking your body with each slap and slapping your ass with his strong hand.

You watched with lust fogging your vision, all you could feel is him filling you up again and again.

Those horns made him look sinister, so intimidating, so powerful and Royal.

And you were his very own dove, the prettiest, most spoiled dove.

"Fuck you’re so wet and desperate, don’t cum yet" he said breathless then pulling out of you. You whined looking back at him and reaching your hand back to touch him but he held your wrist and pulled you on top of him.

"I did what you wished for my beautiful dove, now work for it like the little princess you are, take your throne"

You blinked away a few tears of frustration and grabbed onto his horns then seated yourself down, you were so close and just needed a couple of jumps in.

"Yes, just like that use me, use your prince" his words made your throat dry and your hips faster, he gripped your sides the whole time, digging his fingers into your soft flesh, edging you till your orgasm reached its peak and you came on his cock.

You still kept holding onto the horns, letting him thrust into your sensitive pussy until he finally came shortly after.

[urrockstar-xe]

winter formal - p.parker x fem!reader

aka a starstruck christmas

posted jan 2nd, 2024 8:55pm

this is specifically for @heywardsarchive who said i should make a part 2 so thank u pals :D

this is also fairly late, happy new year, thanks for being here.

summary; although reader misses hanging around her special spider friend, her crush on a certain peter parker boy has her distracted use of Y/n

starstruck does not need to be read first to enjoy this!

starstruck

masterlist

wordcount: 2.1

It had been a few weeks since you had seen that familiar spider up close, nothing more than him swinging from afar, not that you should’ve been complaining. All of your time was being taken up by studying and then getting tutored by that Midtown High kid, Peter Parker. He was a lot cooler than you had expected but the fact all you did when hanging out was math really tainted the image of him in your head.

no matter how pretty he was.

Although with the holidays, more crime typically followed Santa around the globe so you weren’t exactly surprised how Spidey was extra busy this time of year.

Yet you still sighed in disappointment when you got home and once again met a note on your windowsill. 

”Hey, pretty lady, stopped by but you weren’t in :( can’t wait til you’re done with your tutoring sessions” 

The note was short but still, it brought a stupid little smile to your face, pulling out the notebook from your backpack, you wrote a note of your own.

”miss you spidey”

you set it on the outside of your window, setting a small rock from your desk on top so that it wouldn’t run away in the wind before quickly shutting your bedroom window and shivering from the cold.

“Maybe I should get a onesie”

~

“Y/n? You still with me?” Peter asked, grabbing your attention away from the window of the coffee shop you sat in. “Yeah, sorry, Peter” You give a quiet laugh, looking back at the window for a second, just checking to see if he’s out there before turning back to Peter, who was looking at you with a soft smirk. 

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, earning a laugh from the boy as he set his pen down.

“When did I lose you?” He asked, ignoring your question. “I don’t know,” You shrugged, honestly.

Peter shook his head, his smile unmoving as he closed the book in front of him. He leaned back into the leather of the booth, turning his gaze to your face. “Can’t get you focused at all lately” He joked, but not really. “I’m sorry” You gave him a half smile, hoping it would help your apology come off as genuine, just earning another laugh from the boy as he took his glasses off. 

God, he’s so hot. dude don’t think like that he’s right there

oh god what if he’s a mind read-

“Y/n? Again? C’mon, sweetheart” He chuckled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You laughed with him this time. “I’ve just got like no sleep lately,” You explained, ignoring the way your heart sped up at the pet name and earning a sympathetic smile and nod from Peter. “Is there a reason why?” He asked, leaning forward just slightly as if you were sharing secrets. 

“It feels like waiting for a phone call every night” You shrugged, not missing how Peter’s face fell at your words.

“Oh, boy trouble?” He asked, quieter this time. “something like that” he just hummed in response, not wanting to press any further. 

“Well, if you need a distraction, there’s this school thing-“ “Oh you mean at Nerdtown High?” You cut him off with a tease, laughing at how Peter scoffed and couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah, it’s like a winter formal dance thing, I’m in charge of takin’ pictures and stuff, could use some company” He shrugged, not wanting to just outwardly ask you. 

“And I have a special invite from the photographer himself?” You feigned a flattered face, dramatically putting your hand over your heart.

“Yes,” he laughed, “if you want to come, that is.” He shrugs, smiling at you. You mimicked his actions from earlier, leaning forward into the end of the table, still far enough to not feel his breath but close enough to make Peter slightly tilt his head as if unsure of what you were doing. 

Okay, so maybe how pretty he was did make a difference

“So, what are we wearing?” You asked, smiling.

~

The last-minute invite limited your options but luckily you managed to dig up something from your closet and accessorize enough to feel good about how you looked. While you were putting your earrings in, a knock hit your window, interrupting your giddy feelings about going to a school dance with Peter. 

Your head whipped around when there was a second knock, knowing now who it was as you got up and quickly opened the window, laughing at how Spidey dramatically fell into your room, completely on purpose. 

“hi” You smiled, putting on your jacket to shield yourself from the cold. “hey, pretty lady” Spider-man’s voice was distorted, muffled almost but also sounded like he was purposely making his voice quieter and deeper. “Why do you sound like that?” You laughed as you asked the question.

“Got a cold” he shrugged, before looking you up and down. “You look nice” Spiderman nodded, as if in approval but also as if he had to shut up before saying more.

“Thanks, don’t stare too much though, I’ve got a date!” You teased, smiling excitedly as you sat back down and focused on the red color lining your lips before blending it with your fingertip.

“A date huh?” He asked, not even trying to hide his shock at this point. You sigh, dramatically looking back at Spiderman, earning a chuckle at your theatrics. “Well, I think it’s a date, but if you ask questions, it sucks the fun out of it.” He nodded as if he understood your explanation.

He didn’t.

“You remember that tutor I mentioned?” 

Spidey hummed in response, making himself comfortable on your old bean bag chair, watching you finish getting ready.

“It’s with him” You spoke with a giddy light to your voice as you applied lip oil over the red on your lips. 

The silence from the usually obnoxious talkative spider caught your attention.

And while you didn’t know why, it was because he was internally panicking. 

“Thought he was like a total nerd” He laughed awkwardly, worried he’d blow his cover.

“Oh, he totally is,” You chose to ignore the scoff from Spidey as you continued speaking. “But, he’s also like charming and funny, and he’s so fuckin cute, he calls me sweetheart and like how he rambles apologies whenever he’s late and he always insists on walking me home even though I'm way out of his way for his own walk. Oh my gosh and the other day he hugged me which reminded me so much of that scene at the end of Tangled, like he just hugged all of me, does that make sense? Like he needed to be as close as possible, Ugh”

As you rambled on about your almost embarrassing crush on Peter, all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest, he had spent weeks as Spiderman, coming to your rescue for mundane tasks, going as far as leaving notes when he wanted to see you but couldn’t. 

Here he was thinking Peter Parker was ruining his plans as your math tutor, meanwhile, He was the one you couldn’t stop rambling about.

Not Spiderman

But Peter.

He was freaking the fuck out.

“Oh my god, what time is it?” You asked, cutting off Peter’s Spiderman’s thoughts as you urgently looked for your phone. “Spidey, you know I love you, babe, but he’s gonna be here like any second.” You offered an apologetic smile as Spiderman waved it off, a way to say It’s all good, 

“Hey, have fun tonight, pretty lady!” He said, clearing his throat as if he was trying not to cough, and before you had a chance to respond, Spiderman was gone. 

~

“Did I mention how pretty you look?” Peter asked as he snapped another picture of you, complimenting you for the 5th, no 6th time tonight.

not that you’d been counting

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think you have” You teased, earning that laugh that felt so painfully familiar in return.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” Peter started, still unsure about your previous conversation with Spiderman, even if you laid out all he’d need to know. 

The christmas lights and hanging snowflakes around the room suddenly became incredibly interesting to you as you nodded, avoiding all hints of eye contact possible, and silently thanking anyone who was listening in prayer as instead of looking at you, he started photographing other students and teachers dancing around the room to the Christmas music playing. 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek as he thought out his next few words, trying to not talk himself out of it. Distracting himself by taking photos of his classmates, he finally spoke.

“Do you prefer Pepsi or Coke?” 

coward

You laughed at the question, so it must’ve counted for something, right?

Or that’s at least what he had hoped as he smiled and listened to your unnecessary rant of an answer.

~

You shoved your hands into the pockets of Peter’s jacket that you were currently wearing at his insistence, of course, not being able to help yourself as you did a quick scan of the sky as Peter walked you home. 

He didn’t need instructions on how to get there anymore.

“Lookin' for something?” He asked, nudging you lightly.

Why did he always notice you looking for Spiderman?

“Someone, actually” You smiled at him, turning your gaze to your shoes, counting the cracks under your feet. 

“Oh,” play it cool, Peter. “Spiderman?” Was that too obvious?

You shrugged, looking at Peter with your head tilted.

“Didn’t know you were a fan” He continued, his turn now to count the cracks. 

“Yeah, something like that” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head before looking at Peter, watching as he smiled softly at the concrete beneath his feet. 

“I had a really great time tonight, Peter” You sighed, nudging him slightly once your apartment complex came into view, even if you still had 3 more minutes of walking.

You really enjoyed your walks home with Peter. Of course, you counted how long the walks were.

“Me too” he nudged back, stopping for a moment and getting your attention by the feeling of his scarf getting tossed around your shoulders, you stopped walking now, allowing him to properly adjust the soft fabric around your neck making it two items of his you were now wearing.

“Can’t have you catching a cold for the holidays” Peter whispered, soft eyes moving to look into yours upon realizing how close you were. “Course not” you agreed in the same tone.

The moment lasted for however much time wasn’t enough, ending with the sound of police sirens, you both turned at the sound, watching as 2, 3, 4 cop cars rushed past you both. 

“Think I know where Spidey’s been” You mumble to yourself, though not missing the quiet laugh from Peter as he threw his arm around your shoulder, urging you to keep walking, seeming to be sort of rushing now. 

You didn’t question it, it was getting late and you knew he didn’t like leaving May alone too late into the night, it makes her worry would be all he told you anyway, so why pry?

You also had quickly decided to try and forget about the ruined moment, content in feeling as he wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing your arms around his neck in the hug you had loved so much and a quiet “I’ll see you in two weeks” mumbled into the shoulder of his your jacket.

Shit, winter break, you almost forgot about that

“Merry Christmas, Peter” You mumbled back, holding your breath as he pulled away and not letting it go til after you opened the door to the lobby. 

“Hey,” his voice made you turn around, tilting your head like a silent question mark.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart” 

~

The words replay in your head even still as you lie in your bed, waiting for your dreams to overtake you. How he looked at you and how he spoke the words so softly, despite having heard him call you Sweetheart a dozen times by now, you couldn’t get over it.

That seemed to mix with the anxiety you were feeling about whatever was going on with those policemen tonight, why was he not following? Was he already there? Is it about what’s had him so occupied the last few weeks?

The unanswered questions of worry and giddy feelings of adoration put you in a seemingly never-ending loop of anxiety that you were completely unable to come out no matter how hard-

Thump thump thump 

You sat up, almost giving yourself whiplash with how you turned to look at your window. 

Thump thump

They were weaker that time, uh oh.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[monzamash]

cardinal sin — daniel ricciardo

"let's commit some sins." daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) a/n – this was way too fun, @rizzciado. masterlist

“Is this seat taken?”

The gentle voice drew your attention away from the vodka martini cradled in your dainty hands, eyes locking with a pair of dark brown ones waiting for an answer. You glanced around the hotel bar, wondering if the man was speaking to you or someone nearby but his gazed remained on you.

“Oh…” realising he was focused on you, “No, go ahead.”

“I’m Daniel,” He introduced and placed down his glass of red wine before pulling out the bar stool beside you.

Daniel hummed at the sound of your name when you indulged him in the pleasantries and repeated it back in his smooth Australian accent, “That’s a beautiful name.”

He was handsome, that was obvious and the way his smile radiated pure joy allowed you to slowly let your guard down. The cream knitted sweater he was wearing fit perfectly and the tailored black pants indicated his keen eye for fashion while the understated vintage Rolex sitting on his wrist exuded wealth. Old money.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You asked curiously, intently listening to his crooning voice as you sipped your martini.

His answer was vague, something about a special event happening in town that he was apart of but what really intrigued you was the fact he was holding your attention like no one had ever done before. You’d been approached by a stranger in a bar plenty of times, identical situations – but this man had mastered the art of the pick up. Small talk had never been so captivating.

“So how’s your night been so far?” Daniel turned the conversation to you and took a sip from his wine.

You sighed, “Bit of a bust to be honest. I was supposed to be on a date but he didn’t show up…”

Daniel gasped and leaned in close enough for his cologne to be spellbounding – Dior Sauvage. His eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, perplexed by the idea of you, a complete stranger, being stood up.

“What an idiot. If only he could see what he was missing,” He complimented and fell back again, leaving you wanting more.

The dismissive shrug of your shoulders sent your freshly curled waves flowing down your back, revealing a little more of your dress. Daniel’s respectful eyes skimming across your décolletage didn’t go unnoticed and you weren’t mad about it – only set alight.

“Eh, one man’s missed opportunity might be another mans good fortune,” You flirted back, fingers intentionally brushing his as you grasped your martini.

Daniel’s dark chuckle sent chills across your exposed skin, the tight black dress now feeling like the perfect choice. You could feel him nudging closer, knees bumping underneath the bar as he leaned forward and waved down the waiter who had been serving you for the past half hour.

“Hey man – can I get another one of these please?” He asked, pointing down at the empty glass sitting lonely in front of you, completely forgotten in scintillating conversation.

“And a whiskey on the rocks? Thanks mate.”

You propped your elbow up on the bar and rested your chin on you knuckles, eyebrow cocked at his choice of drink, “Moving onto the hard stuff?”

Daniel breathed out a soft laugh and turned to you, eyes shamelessly dragging over your newfound body language and pleased to no end with how intuitive you were to his charm. He knew you could match him, flirtatiously batting your eyelashes and giving him a little more attention than a stranger would. He was having too much fun.

“Yeah, well…” He paused and slipped the waiter a tip, “My wife is a bit of a prude and usually doesn’t like me mixing my wine with whiskey but she isn’t here tonight.”

A devious smirk tingled on your lips as you glanced playfully around the bar, “I certainly hope not. Where is she? There is no way I would let you out of my sight.”

“She’s out with her friends who take up way too much of her time.”

You let out a soft hum in response, “I’m sure she adores you.”

“You see – that’s the problem…” Daniel sucked in a sharp breath and leaned in, meeting you in the middle – lips ghosting your keen ear.

“She’s a little too good to me, if you know what I mean.”

You pulled back ever so slightly, catching Daniel’s gaze that had shifted to you plum coloured lips – eyes hungry for more when you whispered, “Do you want something bad?”

“Someone maybe…” He teased, noses brushing as your hands came up and gently adjusted the silver chain hanging around his neck.

“Promise I don’t bite.”

“I really hope that isn’t true,” You quietly but confidently retorted as Daniel reached down and expertly pulled your stool closer – his knee slotting in so close that you could feel his warmth through the thin layer of lace separating you from him. Teasing.

“Surely a pretty girl like you doesn’t dabble in the dark arts,” He taunted, knowing from the glint in your eye that you weren’t like most pretty girls.

“I like to think of it more as a fine art but you really have no idea who you’re dealing with here …”

Daniel couldn’t hide the way he felt hearing those words tumble from your mouth, lip bitten and trousers a little bit tighter than before. You were magnetic in his eyes, enigmatic and mysterious as you played with the stem of your martini glass, toying with him and fuelling the desire bubbling in his stomach.

“Tell me,” He challenged and watched as the devilish grin swept across your beautiful face.

“Or I could show you…”

A deep groan purred in Daniels throat as he inched forward and crashed his lips into yours, holding your jaw loosely between his thumb and fingers. Your mind was a haze as his tongue slipped around yours, searching for a moan that you generously gave. He was intentional with the way his lips moved against your own, pressure wavering as you became breathless.

“I’m staying here at the hotel…” You managed to breathe out; the statement laced with promiscuity and a promise of more.

“If you think the public is going to stop me then you're sorely mistaken, sweetheart," Daniel grumbled into your hair, fingertips rushing down your spine and stoking the flames within.

A guttural whine slipped from your throat as he took the soft, sensitive skin on your neck between his teeth, the subtle sound of your dress zipper made a small, barely there smile appear on your features. You loved the idea of him taking you right there and then but even you could admit when the limit had been reached.

But god, all you wanted to do was push the boundaries with him as you shoved him across the threshold of your expensive hotel room. Daniel was already half undressed by the time you left the elevator, decently tucking himself back into the waistband of his underwear after receiving the sloppiest blowjob of his life. As he looked down at you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around his thick cock, doe eyes gazing up, he was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven.

It was all heavy breathing and belt buckles clanging as you fell face first into the gloriously comfortable bed. Arse up in the air, dress hiked up and revealing the lace you’d picked specifically for the night. All you wanted was for him to fuck you stupid and what better way to start than his tongue gliding across your holes, tasting all of his hard work.

“Yes god, thank you…” Daniel praised, mouth glistening and no doubt looking up to a higher powers for serving you on a silver platter, “Or maybe I should be thanking the devil for delivering you.”

You craned your neck and watched as Daniel shed his knitted sweater, exposing his chest hair and a chiselled body, thighs squeezing at the sight. His devilish good looks and toothy smile had you hypnotised in his grip; strong hands grasping your hips and bringing you level with the hardness in trousers that was begging to be touched.

“You should be thanking your wife for letting you off the leash,” You quipped, taunting the gorgeous man standing above you – about to devour every single inch of you.

Daniel hummed in agreement and theatrically unzipped his trousers, “I’m the luckiest man in the fucking world.”

With a couple of firm strokes, Daniel was slipping into your warmth like a man starved. He had you up on your knees, back pressed against his strong chest while he fucked into you deep. The snap of his hips had you begging for mercy, or for more depending on the angle – every single inch he had lining your insides and hitting every bump along the way, fingertips playing with your swollen clit as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“I want you to fuck me like you fuck her…” You slurred, cock-drunk coursing through your veins, “But dirtier.”

And he did. The grip of his fingers around your gulping throat and the unrelenting pounding you were getting had you grasping for the hand holding your waist for dear life. Daniel was vocal but deliberate, every little whisper turned grunt in your ear sent shockwaves straight to your bud. The sound of how messy he was making you emanating through the humming hotel room, clenching hard and coming fast.

It was dark and filthy, just like the slurry of words dripping from Daniel’s swollen lips as he laid back and let you take control, “That pussy feels so fucking good around my dick, baby – fits me like a glove.”

“Mmm, you like it?” It was a rhetorical question – you could tell by the blown out pupils studying your every move how much he liked it.

Daniel’s strong hands crawled up your thighs, leaving light scratches on the skin before taking their rightful place on your sinking hips while you bottomed out. The burn of his stretch made your head fall back slightly, the bites littered across your collarbone making the man below you beam with pride. I fucking did that, he whispered to himself as you swept your hair to one side.

“Wanna come inside me, pretty boy?”

A strangled moan and a dramatic head nod was all the answer you needed – placing your hands on his thumping chest and lifting your hips gradually, teasingly. He held firm and guided you into the rhythm he needed to get himself off, eyes fluttering shut in concentration as you rotated slowly.

“I’m gonna fuckin' – oh, fuck. Holy shit.”

Watching him lose all control of his suave composure and submitting to the unadulterated pleasure had you coming undone around again, panting and moaning in synchronicity. The aftershocks of your high sent him tumbling over the edge – your pussy clenching his swollen dick as he filled you to the brim, dribbles of his high slipping down your shaking thighs.

“Take it all, baby… That’s it,” Daniel encouraged as you continued to slide up and down his softening cock – squeezing out every last drop.

“So fucking good to me.”

You collapsed into Daniels’ welcoming embrace, face nuzzled into his damp neck and breathing in his sweet scent. It was a scent you found comfort in and it didn’t take you long to find yourself melting into his touch. The facade finally falling.

“... We need to do that more often.”

“I liked how suave you were – so sexy. Really felt like you were in character,” You praised, brushing the dark unruly curls from your husbands blushing face.

“Huh, you liked that?” He baited, reeking of smug.

“Bitch, you know I did,” You scoffed and rolled onto your back, “But I always let you drink whatever you want so take it easy on the insults next time. Calling me a prude... Un-fucking-believable.”

Daniel chuckled, knowing you were only kidding and turned onto his side to take you all in - his beautiful wife, the one person who knew him better than anyone else. You were the person he had endless adventures with, the sex immaculate from the day you started dating ‘til now. The lust you had for each other never fading, in love.

“Roleplaying was your idea so don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Daniel yawned and wrapped his arm lazily around your bare torso.

He continued, “You were incredible though, like at the end with that little move you do that drives me up the fucking wall.”

You giggled and rested you head on his shoulder - legs intertwined under the covers as you listened to him relive the night, “We’re gonna need to do a play by play in the morning, I reckon.”

You sighed and closed your weary eyes, “Good shout, baby.”

“I love you."

“And I love you.”