#we really were set up for success ladies

[brightyearning]

Bratz, Winx Club, Totally Spies, Sailor Moon...we really were primed to be That Bitch.

[bradshawsbaby]

Sprinkles of Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: It's Bob's birthday and you want to do something special for him. The problem is that you've only been on two dates, and you can't get out of your head about making that first move.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday to my #1 Guy, Lewis Pullman! I thought we all deserved some sweet Bob fluff to celebrate!

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, featuring the jitters and nervousness that comes with a new relationship.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, your fingers itching to reach for it where it sat taunting you on the counter near the cash register.

Biting down on your lower lip, you peeked surreptitiously over your shoulder before finally picking it up, your finger hovering hesitantly over the green messages icon.

“Are you finally going to text him or are you just going to keep staring longingly at your phone all day?”

Your cousin’s teasing voice startled you, pulling you out of your silent reverie as you fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it to the floor in your haste to get a grip on it and shove it inside your apron pocket.

Alexandria just laughed in response, her dark eyes sparkling as she slid a tray of freshly baked oatmeal raisin cookies onto one of the display case shelves. Normally, you would have complimented her on how amazing they smelled, but given the knowing smirk she was sending your way, you stuck your tongue out at her instead.

“Stick your tongue out at me all you want,” she told you, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “But I know you, and I know how badly you want to text him. So why don’t you just do it already and save yourself all the torment?”

“Lexie,” you groaned, your phone suddenly feeling like a rock inside your pocket. Why did your cousin have to know you like the back of her hand?

You were saved from having to elaborate, however, when one of the timers dinged in the kitchen, signaling that the newest batch of muffins you and Lex had put in a little while ago was finished. She shot a pointed look in your direction, making it clear the conversation wasn’t over, before turning on her heel and going to take the muffins out of the oven.

Since it was the usual mid-morning lull and the only customers currently inside the bakery were a college student working on her laptop near the window and two elderly ladies enjoying conversation over scones and tea, you figured you should be both a good cousin and a good employee and go help Lexie in the back.

Despite the fact that you had already been working at the bakery for a few months now—ever since you had moved to San Diego—you still couldn’t help but be blown away whenever it hit you that your cousin had really accomplished the dream she’d been chasing since you were little girls. For as long as you could remember, Alexandria had been wanting to open up her very own bakery, a cozy little spot where people could come to read, hang out, and relax, all while enjoying some homemade treats and delicious coffee. It seemed like just yesterday that the two of you were playing with her Easy-Bake Oven, and now here she was—living the dream as a successful small business owner. You couldn’t have been more proud of her. Or more grateful that she’d given you both a job and a place to live when you’d decided to follow in her footsteps and make the move out to California.

Lex was like the big sister you never had. She gave the best advice and she knew you inside and out. Which was normally a good thing, but judging by the way she was looking at you from under her dark lashes, you knew today was going to be one of those days where she insisted on pushing you out of your comfort zone.

You sighed in exasperation as you helped her set the freshly baked orange cranberry muffins—a favorite among her loyal customers—on the cooling rack. “I wish I hadn’t even mentioned it. It’s not that big of a deal,” you insisted, supremely conscious of the weight of your phone pressing against your thigh as you worked.

“If it’s not that big of a deal, then why do you seem to be making it one?” Lexie replied with that razor-sharp wit of hers, winking when you shot her a dirty look over your shoulder.

“I’m not!” you insisted, although you knew that was a complete and total lie. You were being ridiculous and you knew it, but every time you even thought about sending him a message, your heart started pounding inside your chest and your palms got all gross and clammy.

Lex crossed her arms over her chest, throwing an exasperated look heavenward. “Babe, you’ve already been on two dates with him and he wants to take you out on another. Do you seriously think you’re going to send him running for the hills if you send him a text wishing him a happy birthday?”

When you heard it out loud, it did sound pretty stupid. He was such a great guy, so sweet and attentive and caring, and he had done nothing to indicate that he was losing interest or that he would be freaked out by such a simple message. But still…

“I do want to text him,” you confessed, biting your lip as you carried the empty muffin tray over to the large sink where your cousin washed all her baking supplies.

“So what’s holding you back?” Lexie asked, her voice gentler this time as she leaned her hip against the counter, clearly trying to understand. She’d seen your heart get broken enough times to know that you were much more cautious now when it came to entrusting it to other people.

You sighed softly, fiddling with the strings on your pink-and-white striped apron as you tried to put your feelings into words. “It’s just—we’ve only been on two dates. I mean, they were really amazing dates, but still. Only two. And our birthdays only came up once in passing on our first date. He never mentioned it again, even when he called the other night to ask me if I’d like to go out this weekend. So on the one hand, I do want to text him to wish him a happy birthday, but on the other hand, what if it weirds him out that I remembered? What if he thinks I’m some kind of obsessive stalker and gets the ick and then ghosts me?”

“For wishing him a happy birthday?” your cousin questioned skeptically, her eyebrows rising until they were practically touching the edges of her blunt bangs.

“I’ve been ghosted before for less,” you muttered in embarrassment, knowing that your love life was a disaster compared to your cousin, who had been with her soon-to-be-husband since high school.

Lex softened immediately, stepping beside you and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. “I know,” she murmured soothingly, rubbing your arm with a gentle hand. “But those guys were jerks who didn’t deserve you. From everything I know about this guy, he sounds so great. He seems like the kind of guy who would be happy that you remembered his birthday.”

Honestly, you couldn’t argue with her there.

Bob Floyd was unlike any man you’d ever met before. He was everything you’d ever hoped to find but had feared you never would, the kind of perfect that seemed too good to be true, the gentleman that you had thought existed only in fairytales.

It had been over a month now since he’d stepped off a storybook page and walked into your life.

You could still remember that afternoon so clearly. It was a Saturday, and the bakery had been surprisingly dead. Lexie had decided to run to the bank, leaving you in charge of things in her absence. You’d been rearranging some of the pastries in the display case when the bell over the front door chimed, signaling a customer.

Stepping up to the counter, the words of greeting died in your throat when one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life approached, a shy smile stretching across his face.

“Hi,” he greeted you in a soft-spoken voice, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and yet you’d never seen a guy look better.

“Hi,” you echoed, your eyes widening as you got lost in a gaze as blue as the cornflowers that grew in your grandparents’ backyard.

The two of you just stared at each other for a couple minutes, neither of you saying anything, even as the air between you seemed to spark and hum with electricity.

“Um, I was, uh, hoping that you still had some cupcakes left. I know it’s a little later in the day and my neighbor who recommended this place said that you should always get here early, but, um, I have a little barbeque that I’m going to and I wanted to bring some dessert. I’m hopeless at making anything myself,” he rambled, his eyes crinkling as he laughed somewhat nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was only when he cleared his throat awkwardly a moment later that you realized you hadn’t yet responded to him.

“Oh! Cupcakes!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out a little louder and squeakier than you had intended. “Of course!” Running your hands down the front of your apron, you shook your head slightly to try to knock some sense into it. You walked over to the display case, indicating that he should come take a look. “Normally we’d already be sold out of a lot of these, but it’s been quieter today than usual, so we still have plenty left. I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Seems like it,” he smiled, his blue eyes latching onto your face.

Something about the way he said it made your insides feel as gooey as the batter Lexie used to make her double chocolate fudge cake.

“How many cupcakes do you need?” you asked, working overtime to keep from getting flustered.

“I think two dozen should be fine,” he replied, his eyes roaming over the display case shelves. “Hmm, they all look so good, I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you have any recommendations?”

“The lemon zest cupcakes are really popular. So are the red velvet and the coconut cloud. Oh, and the German chocolate.” You laughed sheepishly. “Honestly, they’re all really good.”

He laughed in response, a small dimple appearing in his cheek that only further endeared him to you. “Which one is your favorite?” he asked, his voice so earnest it made your chest ache.

You didn’t even have to think about it. “The funfetti,” you told him, indicating the vanilla cupcakes baked with rainbow chips and topped with swirls of vanilla frosting and an extra dash of sprinkles.

“I’ll take a dozen funfetti cupcakes then. And you can surprise me with the other dozen,” he grinned, making you smile.

“I hope you and everyone at the barbeque enjoys,” you said after you finished ringing him up, sliding the two boxes of cupcakes towards him.

“I’m sure we will. This place comes highly recommended,” he replied with a smile. “Are you Lexie, the owner?”

“No, no, I’m her cousin,” you explained, introducing yourself by name.

“I’m Robert Floyd,” he said, holding out his hand to you. “But everyone calls me Bob.”

“Very nice to meet you, Bob,” you beamed, sliding your hand into his and shaking firmly. His hand was large and warm and calloused and it felt like yours had been made to fit inside it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he murmured softly, holding onto your hand for another second or two before slowly releasing it. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m sure I’ll be back again soon.”

“We serve really good coffee,” you said suddenly, desperate to find a reason to get him to come back. “And we open really early. You know, if you want to get some on your way to work.”

Bob’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you.” He picked up his boxes of cupcakes and turned towards the door. Before he left, he shot you one last smile that melted your insides. “See you around.”

After that, Bob Floyd had found plenty of reasons to stop by the bakery. The following Monday, he’d stopped by in the morning to grab coffee for him and his friends on his way to work. That was when you’d learned that he was a naval aviator stationed at North Island.

“You were right about those funfetti cupcakes,” he told you, patting his stomach with a grin. “I think I ate about half the box before I thought to share them with anyone else.”

Your eyes crinkled and you felt your skin grow warm as you smiled in response. “Good, I’m so glad.”

You made sure to slip a cupcake in with all his coffee orders, a gesture which he didn’t fail to notice, judging from the extra large tip he left in the jar.

“See you soon,” he smiled, balancing all that coffee in his large hands as he backed out of the bakery.

From then on, he was there practically every day, stopping in for coffee or for some cupcakes after work. He often picked up things for other people—his friends or his neighbor who had recommended the bakery to him. But for himself, he always stuck with the funfetti cupcakes.

“I know I should branch out and try something new,” he told you one day through a mouthful of sprinkles. “But I can’t help it—these are just so good.”

It had taken nearly two weeks for Bob to work up the nerve to finally ask you if you might be interested in getting dinner with him sometime. You’d had to bite your tongue to keep from immediately screaming, “YES!” in his face,

The two of you spent your first date at a gorgeous little seafood restaurant right on the water, and then went for a long walk on the beach afterwards. It was truly the best date you’d ever been on. Bob was a perfect gentleman, attentively listening to everything you had to say and making you feel as though he actually cared about what was important to you. He’d even draped his jacket over your shoulders as you walked by the water, noticing the way you were shivering slightly in the dress you’d worn. You had been hoping he would kiss you at the end of the night, but like the gentleman that he was, he’d simply brushed your cheek with his lips, asking in a hushed voice if you’d like to see him again.

You wanted that very much.

On your second date, Bob took you mini golfing, something you’d told him that you hadn’t done since you were a little girl. You didn’t think you’d ever laughed so much as you did that night, no matter how terrible you turned out to be at miniature golf. Just like on your first date, Bob walked you to your door at the end of the night, his hand resting on the small of your back as you turned to look up at him, your eyes begging him to give you a proper kiss goodnight.

He had to duck his head slightly as he leaned in closer, a lock of his honey-colored hair draping across his forehead as his gaze latched onto yours, your breath mingling as the two of you inched closer and closer.

It was a soft kiss, sweet and chaste. His lips just barely brushed against yours, sending a shock of electric currents up and down your spine. When he pulled back, the both of you were flushed and stammering.

“C-can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, still so shy even after two dates.

“I hope you do,” you whispered with a smile, squeezing his hand before slipping through your front door.

Faithful to his word, Bob had called you the next day. The two of you were supposed to be going out again this weekend.

But that brought you back to your current dilemma—his birthday. You knew you were being stupid about this. Texting him for his birthday wasn’t tantamount to a marriage proposal. It wasn’t like you were trying to throw him a surprise party or invite yourself over for cake. It was a text message for crying out loud. And even though it had only come up once, he had told you when his birthday was. It wasn’t like you had gone to North Island and asked to see his personnel file.

The truth was, you were just terrified of screwing things up. You’d gone on plenty of dates with guys who had seemed really nice, who you had really thought were into you, only to be ghosted or flat-out rejected. Deep down inside, you knew that Bob was different from all those other guys, but still—the thought of sending him running made your stomach twist into knots.

“Babe, you know what I’m going to say,” Lexie murmured, your cousin’s voice pulling you out of all your convoluted thoughts. “If you never take a risk, then nothing’s ever going to change. I know you’re nervous, but just go for it. The worst that happens—seriously, the worst case scenario—is that he ghosts you. But you know what? If he does that, then he wasn’t worth your time anyway. And if he doesn’t? Well, maybe he’ll start to fall even harder for the gorgeous girl who remembered his birthday.” She grinned, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Ugh, why do you always have to be right?” you grinned ruefully, pulling back from your cousin’s embrace and fiddling nervously with the scrunchie on your wrist.

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a wink, turning to look over her shoulder when the bell over the front door chimed. “I’ve got it,” she told you, squeezing your arm before heading back out to the front.

That left you alone in the back kitchen, your phone burning a hole in your apron pocket and your heart hammering inside your chest.

“Okay, don’t be an idiot,” you murmured to yourself. As far as pep talks went, it was far from the most inspirational, but it did the job as you pulled your phone out. “It’s not too much too soon. It’s just a text,” you breathed out. “It’s just a text.”

Opening your messages, you found Bob’s name—he was right near the top after texting you just yesterday—and opened up your conversation thread, chewing on your bottom lip.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you tapped out a quick message that you hoped was short, sweet, and to the point and hit send.

Happy Birthday, Bob! I hope you have a wonderful day! 🥳🎉

You felt hot all over as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, your pulse stuttering in your veins as you wondered how long it would take him to see it. From what he had told you about his job, he often spent hours in the air each day, so chances were good he didn’t even have his phone on him right now.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and determined not to think about it. A task that was much easier said than done. But as you walked back out into the main part of the bakery, you found that a small crowd had formed, so you jumped into assisting your cousin behind the counter.

“Well?” Lexie asked under her breath as you helped her fill a couple boxes with a dozen cinnamon chip muffins.

“I sent it,” you murmured in reply, purposely avoiding her direct gaze. “But I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

As much as you had tried not to, you’d been compulsively checking your phone every five minutes.

Lex shrugged and waved it off. “It’s still early yet,” she said confidently, carrying the boxes over to the patiently waiting customer.

You threw yourself into various tasks around the bakery, anything that would keep your mind off your phone. You restocked the shelves in the display cases, organized the money in the cash register, wiped down the counters in the kitchen, scrubbed the baking pans, frosted cupcakes, replaced the coffee beans, and waited on any customers who walked in.

A couple of times, your phone buzzed in your pocket and your heart jumped into your throat, only to sink down to your stomach when you pulled it out and found that it was just an email notification or a text from your mom.

The longer you went without hearing from Bob, the harder you had to work to convince yourself that he wasn’t ignoring you.

No. He wasn’t ignoring you. Bob wasn’t like that. You were sure of it.

It was a little after noon, just when you’d taken a cup of coffee into the back for a short break, when you felt your phone buzz again, vibrating against your thigh through your apron. Swallowing nervously, you put your coffee down and reached into your pocket, a small gasp escaping you when you saw Bob’s name on the screen.

You could scarcely unlock your phone fast enough, opening up the text thread to read his reply.

Wow, you remembered! That means so much to me. Thank you! ☺️ Sorry it took me a little while to respond—we were doing some test flights, but I’m on my lunch break now and I’ll be on the ground for the rest of the day. How are you?

It took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to scream and jump up and down like a little girl. It felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. You hadn’t freaked him out! He hadn’t ghosted you! It was just like Lexie said—he was happy that you remembered.

Grinning like a fool, you leaned against the counter and typed out a response, not caring that your coffee was getting cold.

I’m doing great! Glad to hear you got some flying in on your special day ✈️ Doing anything to celebrate?

It was only after you had sent the message that you began to fret that it sounded like you were being nosy about his plans, or worse, trying to insert yourself into them.

But then Bob responded a minute later and put your worries to rest.

Nothing too fancy. My friends ordered lunch and got me a cake. They sang “Happy Birthday,” too, even though I begged them not to lol. I usually keep it pretty lowkey on my birthday.

You smiled as you wrote back, Was it a funfetti cake?

His next response came in no time at all, and it made your stomach flutter to imagine that he was focusing entirely on you and your conversation during his lunch break.

If only! It was really good, but I don’t think anything compares to those funfetti cupcakes 😋

At that moment, Lex walked into the back, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the huge smile plastered on your face. It felt like it was going to get permanently stuck there.

“Well, well, well,” she grinned, sidling up next to you. “Should I take that glowing smile to mean you finally heard back from your lieutenant?”

You ducked your head shyly, your cheeks growing warm. “He isn’t my lieutenant,” you insisted.

“Mhm, sure,” your cousin grinned, laughing loudly when you nudged her in the side. “So it worked out after all? He didn’t say you were a freaky stalker? I shouldn’t be expecting the police to burst down the door any minute?”

“Okay, okay,” you groaned, realizing how ridiculous you’d been behaving that morning. “You were right. It all worked out. He was very touched that I remembered his birthday,” you murmured, sheepishly scuffing your sneaker against the floor.

“I’ve gotta say it—told you so,” Lex smirked victoriously, wrapping her arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as you grinned and returned your cousin’s hug. “You know, Bob was actually just texting me that his friends at work got him a cake, but that it just doesn’t compare to your funfetti cupcakes,” you told her with a proud smile.

“What can I say? They are pretty damn delicious,” she winked, her chest puffing up with pride. A sudden thought struck her as she looked at you. “Hey, what time does Bob get off from work?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Usually around six or seven, I think,” you told her, your brow wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“Hmm, perfect,” Lexie mused, tapping her chin as she glanced over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. Your older cousin was always plotting something.

“I mean that the bakery closes at five-thirty,” she said, as if you weren’t already well aware of that fact. When she realized that you weren’t exactly catching her drift, she went on, “Which means you could invite Bob over for a little after hours birthday treat if you’d like,” she grinned.

“Lex!” you gasped, scandalized.

Your cousin threw her head back laughing. “I didn’t mean that you should jump his bones in the middle of the bakery! I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t do that,” she chuckled teasingly. “I just meant you could surprise him with something sweet, on the house. Something we make here,” she added with a pointed look that made your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“Oh,” you mumbled, nodding your head slowly. “Right. Of course.” You cleared your throat slightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not! Anyone who makes my cousin this happy is welcome to free cupcakes anytime,” Lex said firmly, cupping your face in her hands and beaming at you.

“You’re the best,” you told her, throwing your arms around her and squeezing her in a tight hug. “I’ll text Bob now and see if he thinks he’ll be up for it.”

“If you’re the one asking, I’m sure he will be,” she winked, nudging you playfully before turning to go back to the front counter.

Once she was out of sight, you turned your attention back to your phone and bit your lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase what you wanted to ask him.

Speaking of funfetti cupcakes, any chance you’d want to swing by the bakery on your way home from work? We close at 5:30 today, but we make special after hours exceptions for our best customers 😉🧁

Was that stupid? That probably sounded stupid. Would he think that you were suggesting a quickie on the bakery floor the way you thought your cousin had been suggesting? Oh God, could you unsend that message before he got it?

I would love to! Is 6:45 too late?

This man didn’t cease to amaze you.

No, that’s perfect!

See you then ☺️

You tried your hardest to smother the smile that was threatening to completely overtake your face, but you couldn’t do it. This man gave you butterflies like you’d never experienced before in all your life, and the thought of getting to see him in just a few hours made you feel like you were going to burst from excitement and anticipation.

You didn’t even have to tell Lexie what Bob had said. The second she saw your face, she just smiled knowingly and told you, “I’ll be out of here by six.”

Time had never seemed to move so slowly as it did that day while you waited for closing time to finally come around. Lex observed your growing impatience with amusement, giving you as many odd jobs as she could to hopefully make the minutes go faster.

When the clock finally chimed five-thirty, you practically sprinted towards the door, locking it and flipping the closed sign around to ward off anyone who might have tried to stop by for a last minute treat.

“Good thing business is so good or I might get mad at you for scaring off customers,” Lexie teased.

True to her word, your cousin helped you clean up and then was heading out the door by six o’clock.

“Have so much fun,” she told you, blowing you a quick succession of air kisses. “And tell Bob happy birthday from me,” she added with a wink before slipping out the door.

With your cousin gone, that left you about forty-five minutes to finish getting ready before Bob arrived. You quickly set a playlist of classic 60s tunes to play softly through the speakers—you and Bob had discovered you had a similar taste in music about halfway through your first date—and then hurried into the bathroom to fix up your hair and apply a little bit of make-up. You usually didn’t bother with much when you were working, but you wanted to look nice for Bob.

Once you were done getting ready, you went into the back to get his little birthday treat set up—Lexie had made a fresh batch of funfetti cupcakes towards the end of the day just for the occasion. You had just finished placing one of the cupcakes on a small plate with a lace doily and inserting a candle into it when you heard a faint knock on the front door.

Your heart rate immediately began climbing as you ran your hands over the T-shirt and jeans you’d worn today, hoping you looked halfway presentable. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you stepped out into the main part of the bakery and felt your legs instantly turn to Jell-O at the sight of Bob standing at the door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. You’d only told him once in passing how much you loved them, and he had remembered.

Wow, that really did mean a lot.

“Hi,” you greeted him, standing in the open doorway and beaming up at him.

“Hi,” he echoed, that little dimple making an appearance as he smiled down at you. After a beat, he seemed to suddenly remember that he was holding the flowers in his hand. “Oh, these are for you,” he said, holding them out shyly.

“They’re beautiful, Bob,” you breathed out softly, accepting them with a smile and pressing them to your nose. “My favorite. You remembered.”

“Just like you remembered my birthday,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but which you knew you felt just as much as he did.

The two of you stood there like that for a few moments, just gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling dreamily. Then you came to your senses.

“Come in, come in,” you told him, stepping out of the doorway so that he could enter and then closing the door behind him. “Gosh, these really are such beautiful flowers. That was so sweet of you. You didn’t have to get me anything. It is your birthday, after all,” you said, guiding him to a table in the center of the room.

“I wanted to,” Bob replied, taking a seat. He was still in his flight suit and he looked so handsome. “I’m happy that they made you smile.”

“It’s hard not to smile when I’m around you,” you told him, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could think twice about them. Your cheeks grew warm when you realized how vulnerable they were, and you buried your face in the bouquet once more.

Bob’s cheeks had grown rosy as well, and you noticed that his leg was bouncing nervously underneath the table. “I feel the same way,” he murmured softly.

You could have thrown your arms around him and kissed him right then and there, but then you recalled the actual reason why you had invited him over.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said suddenly, smiling brightly as you laid the bouquet of flowers down on the counter. “Wait right here and close your eyes,” you told him, waiting until he had done so before hurrying into the back and lighting the candle you’d tucked into his cupcake.

When you stepped back into the main room on quiet feet, you found that Bob was still patiently sitting with his eyes closed. Your heart swelled with deep affection—and was it possible something even deeper? You had never met anyone like him and you were certain you never would again.

It was at that moment that you realized “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes was currently playing through the speakers, as apropos a sign as you could imagine.

You cleared your throat slightly as you approached the table, the candle sparkling in front of your face as you brought it closer to the birthday boy.

“I know you said you weren’t a big fan of being serenaded with ‘Happy Birthday,’ so I’ll spare you my vocals,” you teased, setting the plate down in front of him. “But Happy Birthday, Bob.”

Opening his eyes, Bob glanced from your face down to the cupcake and then back up to you again. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses.

“This is—this—thank you,” Bob finally said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

You smiled, sitting down beside him and gently resting your hand over his. “Blow out your candle before it melts into your cupcake,” you giggled.

He grinned at the sound of your laughter, leaning in closer to blow out the single candle, though he kept his eyes fixed on you the whole time.

“Lexie baked them fresh this afternoon. There’s a whole bunch more in the back that I’m going to be sending you home with,” you told him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his face lit up.

“What did I do to deserve all this? This is the best birthday present ever,” Bob chuckled, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing lightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you murmured, glancing down at the table shyly. “The truth is, I was a little nervous to text you earlier.”

Bob looked surprised at your admission. “Why?” he asked, astonished.

You bit your lip and hesitated, but then decided to be honest. Like Lexie said, if you never took a risk, then you never got to see anything change. “I know this is going to sound so stupid, but I was worried you would think it was too much if I texted you for your birthday.”

“Too much?” he repeated, his brow crinkling in obvious confusion.

“You know, just because you had only mentioned your birthday once. I thought maybe I would seem too desperate or clingy or something if I reached out. I thought it would freak you out,” you confessed. “I know that sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bob assured you, shaking his head slowly. “I know what you mean. To be honest, I think I’ve had that problem myself. Y’know, coming off too eager and scaring girls away,” he admitted, blushing as he ducked his head.

“Oh, Bob,” you murmured in understanding, lacing your fingers through his. With all the other things you two had in common, it shouldn’t have surprised you that a crappy dating history was something else you shared. “You could never scare me off,” you promised him.

Lifting his head, he smiled at you and reached out slowly, his fingertips stirring a few wisps of your hair as he brushed your cheek lightly. “And you could never freak me out. It meant so much to me that you remembered my birthday. It made my whole day, in fact. Even more than the funfetti cupcakes,” he said, his eyes crinkling. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, then added softly, “I remember everything about you.”

“You do?” you whispered, feeling a sudden surge of emotion well up in your throat.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your favorite movies, the fact that you like tomatoes but hate ketchup, the way you throw your head back when you laugh really loudly. Your favorite flowers. I remember it all.”

“Bob,” you breathed out, the tears brimming in your eyes as your gaze dropped from his eyes down to his mouth.

You weren’t really sure who moved first, but soon enough, Bob was holding you in his arms, your lips pressed together in a kiss that was much less chaste than your first one, but just as sweet. Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand burying itself in his soft hair, the other resting on the nape of his neck. He let out a soft groan in response, one of his large hands resting on your hip and the other splaying across your back, holding you close.

It was a kiss that was so much like Bob himself—gentle, kind, tender, sweet, affectionate, attentive. He didn’t demand more than you were willing to give, he didn’t try to take anything from you. He just wanted to make you feel how much he cared about you, wanted to make you feel special and cherished. And he did. You hoped more than anything that you were doing the same for him.

Because the truth was that you were already falling for Bob Floyd, and falling hard.

When the two of you finally pulled back—a mutually hesitant parting borne solely of the need for oxygen—you smiled breathlessly, closing your eyes as Bob rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay, maybe that was the best birthday present ever,” he chuckled quietly, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I think so, too, and it’s not even my birthday,” you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder. “Are you going to have your cupcake?” you asked, glancing down at where it sat on the plate, still untouched.

“Mhm,” Bob nodded, wrapping an arm around you and brushing his fingers up and down your arm. “But there actually is something I’d like to ask you first,” he said, suddenly sounding nervous.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly looked so flustered.

“Of course. What is it?” you questioned, resting a hand on his arm.

“Well, all of this has been amazing,” he began, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. You had noticed they had a tendency to slide down when he was particularly nervous. “But there actually is one more thing that I’d really like for my birthday this year.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “What is it?”

Bob swallowed deeply and then looked directly into your eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your lips parted as a little gasp of delighted surprise escaped you. It may have been Bob’s birthday, but it felt like you were the one being showered with gifts today.

“Oh, Bob, yes! Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Yes?” Bob repeated between kisses, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” you told him seriously, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed out, the term of endearment falling easily off his tongue in that adorable midwestern accent of his. He pulled you into his arms once more and kissed you soundly.

You giggled softly as you reached for the funfetti cupcake and removed the candle, holding it up for him to take a bite. “Happy Birthday, Bob.”

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

I find the cultural phenomena of the maid as opposed to its direct descendant (the generalized domestic laborer) to be really interesting, particularly in the transfeminine sphere. This post is gonna be kinda rambly and not have much a point and involve discussion of kink topics, abusive relationships, transmisogyny, colonial violence and its consequences, etc so heads up for that but anyway.

Starting with the regency/early victorian era Europe, there's this gradual development of a complex household structure among the upper classes, which caps out in the late victorian/edwardian era. This environment forges the "prototypical" idea we have of the maid, whom you'll see in period pieces and historical fiction. She might have worn a (modest!) black and white outfit, she might not have. If her employer is relatively poor she may supply her own clothes. Regardless though, she's a servant for someone wealthy enough to keep her on. Her employer might have inherited their wealth, or found success in a relatively new and burgeoning capitalism, but they were definitely a member of one of the upper classes. She might come from a working class family, or depending on her role, from the petty bourgeois/lesser nobility (it wasn't uncommon for a young lady to have a "companion", often poorer relative with no prospects of her own). It's interesting (though in hindsight not particularly surprising) how the space from where some women might become maids, wasn't very far away from the space where a family might keep on 1-3 people on staff (if you'd like to read more on this, Emily Post's original etiquette, written in 1922 is available for free on Project Gutenberg. Its a really interesting text, here's a summary of the maid section I wrote).

Anyway. Its around the height of this period that the "french maid" is codified. Apparently (my research on this isn't the most extensive I'll freely admit) it wasn't uncommon then for the english upper classes to hire maids from France. Wealthy men became quickly fascinated with them, and before long the french maid is a staple in the erotic material of the age. My understanding is that this is how the black-and-white stereotypical maid dress entered the public consciousness, since that was common at the time (indeed, other time periods and places had different standards for uniforms!) and is what the french maid in life would have worn.

After the world wars, the social landscape of wealthy people changed, the concept of the "middle class" crystalized, and a number of household appliances changed the nature of housework quite drastically. Most of the families that would have been considered middle class a few generations earlier stopped keeping on a "maid of all things". Very wealthy households would hire fewer members of staff, or simply stop hiring a permanent staff altogether. From then on, it would be the role of the housewife to do the domestic labor, or otherwise one keeps on a cleaner or a cleaning service who comes around every once a while. Eventually we enter the modern understanding of domestic labor, where live-in servants are rare and when they do exist they are often supplemented by cleaning services with no allegiance to any one household.

Meanwhile, the french maid continues along as a stock character, not just in explicitly erotic material but comedies and even historical/speculative fiction (and thus quite removed from her possibly more apt "prototypical" counterpart, see most anime/manga maids and "butlers"). At this point she may or may not bother with being french, and she may or may not bother with any domestic labor. The maid outfit (later costume) ends up as a stereotypical, almost trite set of clothing for sexual roleplay. It's in this environment that some early culture of "sissy" or "forcefem" kink latched onto the french maid. Since that avenue of kink focuses on feminization as humiliation, the positioning of the sub as a domestic servant for the (petty) nobility (which to be frank, is a pretty humiliating role all on its own, speaking from experience) dovetails into the whole shtick quite neatly.

Others more clever (and more concise...) than I am have written about how what makes forcefem hot is the transmisogyny. The transfemme is set up to hate herself, to self destruct, to feel shame and self-disgust, to feel terrified of herself, for what she is. I'm not gonna bother spelling out the connection here. A lot of transfemmes (even if they are terrified of it and try to avoid it like I did) find their way into that space pretransition. Or if they don't, they certainly become aware of it after they begin! And then we get all this response within our own culture. We reclaim "forcefem" as a term, maids become a common motif in the form of dolls in empty spaces type literature, but that undercurrent of internalized misogyny and shame still sits there I think. Don't mistake me, this isn't some sort of sex negative tirade against maidkink (that'd be a hypocrisy anyhow!) Rather I'd like to make the argument that we're frequently reclaiming something traumatic through it, even if we don't quite realize it. As transfemmes we often self efface when it comes to (trans)misogyny I think. It's easy for us to say we had an easy ride or that it wasn't so bad. But even so, ask yourself, would you be interested in maids so much if you weren't really badly hurt?

I want to end this going back to domestic labor. It has hardly been my career to this point. In fact, I've only spent a few months of my life as a housecleaner, several years ago before I transitioned. Those also happened to be some of the most grueling and torturous months of my life. A lot went wrong that summer. The work was physically demanding and the hours were long. It was one of my first experiences really working and I felt very loyal to my boss, whom I had a tangential personal relationship toward. I was alright at the work but I did it slowly, putting me behind my quotas. But the worst of it was the cementing of the unhealthy relationship I had with my ex into an abusive one. I won't bore you with the details, and beside they're torturous to relive. I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it, I don't think I've felt so much shame and fear so intensely and for so long a duration since then. A screening of Silence of the Lambs was involved. What we've been through, what we've been subjected to, frequently leaves us pliable doormats, eager to please and easily abused. Many are eager to use us for that, and few things can feel so good as kind words from an abuser. If you're like me, maids are a lot about those feelings. The (trans)misogyny we undergo is a real phenomena. Maids for me is an acknowledgement of that.

Post Script: I think it's important to acknowledge how the history of domestic labor has been shaped by racial violence as well as (trans)misogynistic violence. In the United States, the prototypical maid could be white or black to suite the tastes of the employer. In northern culture, the maid was generally whiter than snow, because she was presumed to be better than her counterparts, thought to be less likely to steal and better mannered. That's what made the northern lady comfortable. In the south, the maid (who was often, maybe almost always black I'll have to do more research) was either enslaved or had ancestors who had been recently. Domestic staff being black was part of the mechanism of settler colonialism in the south. The southern lady was more comfortable seeing black women explicitly beneath her, so they were maids. I say was, but these attitudes persist, in one form or another, across the US today and influence who works where. In the modern domestic labor field, a lot of the workers are immigrants. When I did work cleaning houses, I met a lot of people from the Caribbean or Latin America. Remember when I said before that live in maids are rare, and often supported by outside cleaners? One of the women I met doing that job was a live in maid from the Caribbean (I wish I remember where but I'm afraid I don't. I was going through a lot at the time my memory of it all is difficult to access in good circumstances) who was responsible for cooking and laundry. We came in to do wetwork and dusting/vacuuming. That family had more money than grains of sand, and they weren't even so rich tbqh. At my agency, we'd usually get a temp staff from Eastern Europe to do the work but they were unavailable at the time due to the pandemic, so Americans were hired instead. It should be little surprise that a settler colonial state will oft assign the women of its (oft imported) underclasses to do any sort of difficult manual labor (particularly the kind that happens behind the scenes!). The institutions of sex, which disadvantage women (and trans women still further), are but one avenue of hierarchical social violence and these intersect with one another tightly.

Hope you enjoyed reading this ramble, and that you found it illuminating!

EDIT: removed a poorly constructed sentence that doesn't read well and utilizes figurative language in a place that should be more clear

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Lucifer with a reader who's an author?

Imagine Lucifer finding her naughtier works.

Lucifer x Reader

words 1.5K

The book release was a great success!

You couldn’t believe all the hard work your publishing company put into the event. Or how many people showed up. You had been greeting fans and signing books all afternoon, and it was finally time for a break.

Excusing yourself from the crowd and your table, you head over to a private area that had been sectioned off specifically for this and see Lucifer. Your partner looking positively drool worthy in his human clothes, in one of those big leather chairs, with a book in his hand. “You’re enjoying the event I see.”

“Hmm…I am. It is certainly nice to take a break from the norm. You seem quite the crowd draw.” You were positively giddy at Lucifer’s support and praise.

When you asked him to come to your event, you were nervous he might not come. That he would be too busy. Or just not interested. When he said yes you had nearly been floored, and you were glad that the event really was such a success if he was going to be here.

“Well, people liked signed books. Much easier to sell on Ebay.” Lucifer’s lips jutted up and you felt your stomach do little flip-flops. “What are you reading? Certainly not the new book.”

“Oh, no. I already read that one. The references to totalitarianism in a monarchy were inspired.” He read your book? Honestly, you might faint because you were getting so excited. “I was interested in some of your other work, since you’ve been so secretive about it, and a very nice older lady pointed me into the direction of one of your later, new releases.” Lucifer turned the cover to show you the book title, and you felt all the color drain from your face. “She said it was her favorite. A little ‘off brand’ for your usual work, but she said she couldn’t put it down.”

“Don’t read that!”

You lunge at Lucifer to get the book away from him, but he easily pulled it out of reach of your grasp. Where once you were over the moon for him to read your work, you now wished to be buried under a ton of rock. The book in question was a romance novel, of sorts. Typical fantasy drama, swords, spells, sworn contracts with demons and the like. Spicy elements for the average reader Lucifer was describing. The problem was that if Lucifer caught on to the totalitarianism in your current novel, he would obviously catch on that the main character & her partner were you and him. “But I’m only halfway through. And according to this, it’s very rude to stop just halfway through.”

“Oh God….” You covered your face with your hands. Mortified beyond recognition.

Lucifer smirked, but then set the book down before he stood. “Don’t be embarrassed. It is very good you know.”

“I just based it off real life experiences! It’s easier for me to get a feel for the characters that way!”

“Really? I don’t remember us making love in a crowded ballroom.” You groan again. He got to that part?? “But…” You turn your head up to look at him as his hand reached out for your waist and pulled you close. “We could certainly make an effort for a crowded bookstore, with all your fans here.”

A moment ago, you felt the color drain from your face. Now it felt like it was rushing with color. “You can’t be serious?”

“Why not?” Lucifer asked. With this coy grin and confidence that made you wonder ‘yeah, why not’. “It can be inspiration for your next book. And I am suddenly feeling very….inspired.”

You weren’t sure what happened after that. Like the devil he was, Lucifer said a few sweet words and you had to obey. Suddenly, you were in a locked bathroom. A single unit with a toilet, sink, and mirror, kissing your devil with reckless abandon that would normally be reserved for more trashy romance novels.

Lucifer held you close by your waist, then lifted you up on the sink counter. You moan into the kiss. Feeling the cold of the mirror on your back and linoleum against your thighs. You instantly and eagerly spread your legs to make room for him on your little perch. Lucifer filling the space. Dominating you with his height and just the force of him.

“You need to keep your voice down.” He warned when he pulled away from your kissing. That may have been more of a warning than advice as his hand slipped up your thigh and into your panties. “You don’t want your fans to hear.”

You bit your bottom lip to stiff a moan as he touched you. But realized that that wasn’t enough as his fingers slipped inside and cover your mouth with your hand.

This was crazy. This was absolutely insane! There was literally a room full of people outside waiting for you while you were in here getting fucked by your partner. Or at least you were about to be. God you wished you were about to be. As terrifying as it was that someone might hear you, and your career could be over, all you could think about was Lucifer and having his dick inside you, and fuck let them hear how he fucked you & loved you. You really didn’t care.

You whimper and your free hand clamors for the glass behind you, trying to find purchase on something, when his thumb brushed over your clit again. “Lucifer….” The inside of your pussy clenched around his fingers. Eager for something bigger, harder, more him.

He smiled and pulled his fingers free before sliding down your panties. “Yes, yes. We need to hurry so you can get back to your fans. They are eager to see you. And I’m eager for them to see you, like this.”

You whimper again. Thinking about people seeing you. Would they know? Would they be able to tell that you were just fucked in a bathroom? Would they be able to see the lust still fogging over in your eyes from having sex with a gorgeous man just meters from their showroom? What would they think of their acclaimed, respected author if they knew she was just a dirty slut for her own demon, letting him do whatever he wanted to her and begging for more?

All those thoughts clung to your mind until Lucifer slid his cock inside you. Then it was nothing but ‘Lucifer! Lucifer! Lucifer!’

“Gods your wet.” Lucifer groaned in your ear. His thrust faster and sharper than usual as he seems to know that they need to be quick. “I know that’s not just me. You really are enjoying this, aren’t you? My dove.” You moan. That was what the character in your book called the protagonist. Your mind suddenly shifting between the characters in your book to the real world with you & Lucifer. “Your excited for this. To go back out to that crowd with my cum still inside you. To still feel my hands on you while you greet them with a smile.”

“Yes!”

At this point you would be happy to do the remainder of the event siting on his cock. Lucifer’s lap as your chair. Ride him in front of the crowd if only he asked. “Cum inside me. Fill me up, so I can meet my fans.”

Lucifer groaned and sped up his hips. Kissing you to keep you quiet, but also himself. It doesn’t take long for you feel him cum inside you. The hot pulse of his cock sending you over the edge, and you cling to him as it felt like you would fall off the counter. He would never let that happen.

Lucifer held you until you were both done. Then he pulled back, and out of you, slipped your panties back on over your sopping cunt, and helped you off the counter. Your legs felt a little numb & wobbly, but you managed to stand.

“You should get back. I will wait here to avoid suspicion, then see myself out. I’ll come find you after the event is over.”

“Ok.” You honestly weren’t paying that much attention to what he was saying.

Lucifer reached for your hand, then lifted it to kiss it. “I hope this was certainly ‘inspirational’ for you.”

“Oh, it was.” You teased back.

The demon smirked as he released your hand. “I look forward to your next book then.” He then opened the door. His body concealed by the plywood. “Good luck with your fans.”

You gave him a smile and returned to your work. No one made any comment about your appearance, so maybe no one noticed; or was too polite to say anything. It was almost like nothing happened.

But when you moved in your seat, or shifted your legs, you could feel the wetness in your panties, or Lucifer’s cum slip out of you. So the fantasy was definitely a reality.

[lit3rallyll0yd]

Hey I just wanted to say I love your writing so much it's just 😼😍 if Ykyk and feel free to ignore this request but if you want to could you do ninjago character is basically a rich aunt and grew up with the ninja go character (plus harumi up to you) sorry if I'm not that detailed

have a good day 😼🐮

ninjago x reader: them with a reader who is their rich aunt. ft. ninjas<3 (≧ᗜ≦)

characters: lloyd, kai & nya, jay, cole, and zane

synopsis: basically the reader is the ninjas rich aunts, who they haven't seen in a while.

a/n: tbh i was struggling to understand this request, nothing against you anon, im just bad at reading n understanding, lol. so we ended up with this idea<3

i would add harumi, however my poor fingers hurt so much😞

short, headcanon format, female reader

artist cr: min-play

☆ LLOYD.

. you are misako's sister. she knew the second lloyd was born you were going to spoil this kid like crazy.

. before he was even born you already bought him things. new sets of clothing, baby toys, even some baby food you might know if he'll even like.

. when lloyd was born you swore to protect him no matter what. that was until you found out from your sister he was the green ninja?

. the kid is now at least 11 and his own mother enrolls him in the Darkly School for Bad Boys?

. she told you she left him for a good reason, and it will all make sense in the future.

. you decided to take her word for it, and years passed. you haven't seen your sister nor your nephew since.

. large timeskip, lloyd has aged, he has found his true family in the ninja. sure he reconnected with his mother but he still doesnt trust her much...until he heard her side of this whole story.

. lloyd and her have gotten closer once more, and misako decided to bring you up.

. lloyd had no idea how to react. he barely remembers you, however you remember him. he kinda feels guilty.

. you squish his cheeks together when finally seeing him again, "Oh, look at you!! you've grown up so much~ i remember when you were just a little babyyy! i can see where you got the looks from~"

. it takes a while, just like how lloyd was with his mother, but he glad to have met you once again.

. he asks you both about his father, and you have alot to say about that man.

. even at his age, you still spoil him much to his mothers liking. but who listens to their siblings anyways?

☆ KAI & NYA

. you were ray's sister, and maya loved you. she the first to tell you she was pregnant with the two, and you. went. bananas.

. when both kai and nya were born, you fell in love with them immediately.

. while they were kids you would come visit them, kai was extra excited for your visits because you always had a present for the two.

. ray and Maya just enjoyed your company, although nya was really shy around you first.

. she was a mama's baby, qnd loved to be in her mother's arms so everytime you come over she's in her mama's arms, hiding her face in her chest.

. the more you visit, the more she starts to trust you. ray and maya were surprised when nya started to cry when you had to go home one evening

. seeing them again after many years was very emotional for you, not them, though.

. "im sorry, who are you?" kai asked, seeing a random lady hug his little sister.

. "silly, im your auntie. your father's sister, to be specific, i never did really like labels!"

. "our...huh?"

. it's mostly like the relationship misako and lloyd have, but just you and the smith siblings.

. nya tries to be as kind as possible toward you, kai of course as well, however you and nya seem to have more of a bond.

☆ COLE

. your lou's sister. you never had a passion for singing like your brother, but you were pretty successful in the arts department.

. you were a pretty famous artist, almost everyone in ninjago knows your name.

. your art is seen from lou's dining room, to the ninjagos art museum.

. lou was the one who told you lily, his wife was pregnant. you asked many questions, but the big question was the gender.

. when finding out, because lily wanted to know the gender before birth, you started buying anything "baby boy" related.

. blue. that's what you first think of when a baby boy is coming, right?

. timeskip, yahoo, cole is born and sadly you've had to move away for a business emergency.

. you had a feeling cole wouldn't remember who you were, he was only just born when you had to move.

. before his mothers passing, lily tried to best to keep memory of you around the house, hopefully so little cole could remember some fragments of you.

. he..he didn't, lmao.

. you visit lou one day, and surprisingly, his son, cole, who is now a teenager, also seems to be visiting his father with you, who assumed his friends.

. you pinch his cheeks after hugging him and kissing him all over. cole was beyond uncomfortable and confused.

. "y/n, please, take it easy-"

. "you try not seeing your nephew for years and suddenly seeing him randomly out of no where, lou!"

. "...i...i did, however in this case he is my son."

. you, lou, and cole have had some time to discuss about who you are and coles eyes lit up.

. "you were my mother's best friend? could you maybe, tell me more about her?"

. you smiled, "let's start off with, your mother was the kindest and sweetest soul in the world."

☆ JAY

. let's make this simple. your edna's long time best friend. so you pretty much the same age as her.

. obviously ed and edna are jay's adopted parents, you found out by visiting the junkyard one day and seeing...baby...in Edna's arms.

. she was feeding him a bottle. he was so small, he hits perfectly in your sister's arms.

. "now i may be old, but i ain't stupid, sista'. why didn't you tell me you adopted?"

. edna laughed, "oh dear, no, this little one showed up on our doorstep last night. we couldn't just leave the poor thing there, we had to take him in. and we don't have the guts to let him go just yet so...ed is figuring out the adoption papers..."

. ever since that day, you have been coming around more often to help the elders take care of jay.

. jay was homeschooled, of course when he was old enough; ed taught him the abc's and 123's.

. you would help of course. you would spoil this boy to your full extent.

. he wanted this toy? it's his. wants mcdonalds? one happy meal please. is upset? two tickets to the mega monster amusement park!

. of course, you had a life of your own. you've barely had time to see ed, edna and jay anymore because of your work.

. so one day, ed and edna mailed you a letter, saying they will visit iay and invited you to come. maybe jay will remember you?

. timeskip to them pulling up to the bounty and jay's confused face.

. "ma, who is that?" jay asked looking at you with a confused look.

. yall had the talk about who you are and jay felt terrible for not remembering you. he always assumed his "dad" was taking him to all the amusement parks.

. he tried to catch up with you, wanting to know more of your life and your work placement.

. little does he know, ed and edna have been telling you mall the embarrassing stories he's gone through as a kid; your favorite being his kissing pillow?

. didn't you buy him that pillow?

☆ ZANE

. your dr. juliens younger sister.

. you were astonished at his latest "creation", zane. you were there when zane came fully online, and was "alive".

. he was almost like a human, he had human emotions of course he didn't know that yet. he was basically just born.

. upon hearing of your brothers death, you were deeply affected. you left ninjago for a little while, forgetting the world but never forgetting zane.

. you regret leaving him alone. but you weren't in the condition to be taking care if someone. you have to take care of yourself first.

. timeskip, years passed and you have received a letter from an old friend, inviting you to come back to ninjago and visit you.

. he mentioned zane, so you of course agreed.

. the address lead you to a monestary. you were a bit confused buy you knocked on the large doors.

. moments later, the doors open wide to revel a figure dressed in a white ninja gi, who looked back at you twice as confused as you.

. "good morning, stranger. what brings you to the monestary?" he asked and you felt your heart drop.

. "zane?"

. he tilt his head to the side, "yes...that is my name...how do you know my name?"

. other male voice cuts you off, "yo, zane- who's there?"

. eventually, your old friend who invited you here in the first place appeared beside zane and with a smile invited inside their home.

. insert the other three boys, jay, cole, and kai confused and asking each other questions while zane, master wu, and you spoke in a separate room.

. "so...your my father sister?"

. you smiled and nodded, "i never thought i would see you again!" you hugged the boy who froze at your touch, but politely hugged you back.

. you are family after all.

. you feel so bad for leaving zane all alone, possibly confused and lost until he found sensei wu and the other ninja, but that doesn't stol you from spoiling the heck out of the four boys.

. "but...y/n, i have already forgiven you. we do not need your-"

. jay covered zane's mouth, laughing sheepishly as kai spoke up, holding a bunch of video games you have given to them..

. "oh nono- please, we are more then happy to receive these gifts. your more then kind."

. cole nods in agreement.

. you smile and leave their gaming room, only to have master wu smack each of the boys, beside zane, on the heads

☆ i think i went a bit overbored 😭

[thatfreshi]

I Want to Mean It - Astarion x Reader

Your wedding is fast approaching, and you have one last preparation to make.

Recommended Song: Sick of Losing Soulmates - Dodie

You and Astarion are set to get married tomorrow evening. After nautiloid crashes and illithid parasites, you never really thought you'd get to do some romantic ritual like this. After all, both of you should have been long gone by now, yet Lady Luck stuck around.

Despite how soon the ceremony is, you've been quite busy working with Gale, who just so happens to be your best man. A powerful wizard like that is good to have on your side, especially when marrying a vampire. After yet another long day of perfecting spells and testing magical methods, you return home to your lover, who is making last-minute stitches into his wedding outfit.

"If it isn't my soon-to-be spouse, come here my love."

Despite his cold skin, it's a warm embrace. You're tense though, and he can sense it.

"What's the matter darling?"

You try to swallow the nervousness, but it sticks in your throat.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy this week. I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect for us."

"Why of course. It has to be a night to remember after all. Wouldn't be our wedding if it wasn't."

You go to grab something out of your pocket, wrapping your hand around a small vial, almost shattering the glass with your grasp.

"What have we here?"

He slips his hand past yours, easily removing the vial from your hand. To his surprise, it's empty. There is a slight coating of what used to be a liquid inside.

"Astarion, I love you so, so much."

He investigates the vial further, almost ignoring your sentence.

"Well of course my love, I know that."

He uncorks the vial, and is immediately hit with a sickeningly sweet smell, a scent he can't quite place.

"My god, what is this. Or better yet, what was this?"

You're shaking, unsure of what he'll say if you tell him. Instead, you move to your other pocket and grab a rolled-up piece of paper from Gale's journal. Putting it in his pale hand, you go to sit on the bed, head in your hands. He begins reading.

"On the sixth day of attempting to perfect my spell, I have confirmed the following:

It was successful

The research I found was accurate and correctly documented

The subject has gained immortality."

There is more listed below, but he doesn't read it.

"Tav, you idiot. You absolute fool I-"

Astarion is unable to speak, both dumbfounded and emotional.

"Ambrosia, you're playing dangerous games. Games you don't know the rules to."

He's angry, you expected him to be. As someone who has lived for centuries, he knows what you've asked for, what you've done. Ambrosia, a liquid of pure joy, one of the only things that can grant immortality. You spoke to Gale for weeks on end, trying to figure out the safest way to live forever. Turns out, there are very few, and this one was quite difficult to perform.

"Astarion I-"

"No, we have to reverse it, we have to go to him right now and figure out how to stop this."

"Aster, my love, you know as well as I do that's not possible."

"Well damn it he'll make it possible!"

You shudder a little. He doesn't raise his voice often, usually only ever out of fear. Then the tears roll.

"Why would you do this to yourself."

You get up from the bed and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He turns away, almost as if he's ashamed of your choice.

"Because when we say our vows tomorrow, and I tell you I want to be yours forever, I want to mean it."

You begin to sob too, not out of fear, but out of how much you love this man. Years ago you never would've drunk something like Ambrosia, you never would've asked to live forever.

"But you'll be stuck with me forever. Hells, I'm stuck with me forever and sometimes I wish I wasn't."

You don't know what to say, how to tell him you knew this was right, how you and Gale fought about what you were asking for, how he said that Astarion would react this way. While you try to gather the words, he turns to look at you again, still overwhelmed by this information.

"What if... what if you get sick of me?"

You wipe a tear away from his eye, and give him a bittersweet smile.

"You know damn well we're already sick of each other."

You chuckle, he does too.

"You should've told me."

"Well, I wanted my wedding gift to be a surprise."

While the mood lightens, he loses some of the tension, all of the anger dissipates. He realizes he's not alone anymore, that he won't have to watch you pass on into the afterlife without him.

"Well, it's a phenomenal gift my sweet."

You both become enraptured in a deep kiss, something ravenous behind his lips, something relieved in his heart. That kiss multiplies, until you're both out of breath.

"Save some of that for after the ceremony dear."

You wink at him, and you both burst out laughing. The hysteria in the air, it's something you've never quite felt before, and you'd get every chance to feel it again, alongside with Astarion, and you realize you've never felt more sure about anything in your life. This is one decision you'll never question, as long as he's yours, and you are his.

[ashyyslashy]

million dollar baby - kendall roy x f! reader

You go on a blind date with Kendall Roy circa his college graduation and learn the truth beneath his public front.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: language, drug use, sex while intoxicated, piv sex, discussions of infertility

You anxiously drummed your fingers on the back of the car seat in front of you. Bass music throbbed in your ears, barely drowning out the voice of your taxi driver blabbering to someone on the phone. You were used to overeager drivers pushing the speed limit, but this guy seemed to pride himself on going at least 5 under at all times. Worst of all, the heater in his car was broken, leaving you shivering within the fogged-up windows.

You kept glancing down at the “I’m outside” text on your BlackBerry, received a minute ago and counting. Unable to delay it any further, you typed out “I’m just a few blocks away”, and hit send. Several moments later, it buzzed with his response: “Don’t keep me waiting.”

As the taxi slowed towards the restaurant, you squinted out of the window to search for your date. Truth be told, you were wholly unsure what to expect of him. From what your friend Cecily had told you when she set the two of you up, Kendall Roy could either show up to a date wearing a tuxedo or a tracksuit. 

You slipped the driver his fare and scrambled out of the backseat before the car had even fully stopped, hurriedly pulling your bunched-up dress down. You cautiously stepped onto the curb in your knee-high boots.

“I’m here,” you texted Kendall as you made your way towards the restaurant’s signage. A bustling crowd was gathered in front for dinner, obscuring your view of the entrance. Heat lamps burned outside with customers flocking around them as they warmed themselves. 

You didn’t receive a reply. Your eyes scanning the area, you spied a lone figure standing away from the mass of bodies. He was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. A cloud of smoke billowed around him, his fingers holding a cigarette to his lips. 

He matched the description your friend had provided: average height and a head of coiffed dark hair. As you approached him, his features became more evident, resembling the photo you’d seen. Your gaze flicked from his dark chocolate eyes to his angular nose, his long face bearing an expression absent of any emotion. 

“You’re Kendall, right?” 

His eyes narrowed, the end of his cigarette crackling. 

“Yeah. Hey. You finally showed up.” His voice was deep and distinctly authoritative, speaking to you with all the air of someone at a business meeting. 

“Sorry, the taxi was really slow.”

He nodded, taking one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it on the slush-covered cement. He ground it down with the heel of his dress shoe, his movements effortless and fluid. 

“Shall we?” he asked, striding towards the entrance of the restaurant without waiting for a response. You were compelled to fall in step behind him - you guessed that a lot of people fell prey to the magnetic force that seemed to orbit him and his family. 

He deftly maneuvered his way through the crowd and walked up to the hostess. She didn’t notice him at first, leaning over her coworker in conversation. He cleared his throat abruptly. Her head jerked up, and she blinked a few times in succession as she took in the sight of him and the way he’d forcefully inserted himself into the space.

“Sorry, sir. How can I help you?” she asked, her tone cool. 

“Reservation for Roy,” he said in a confident, clear voice, fixing her with an intense stare.

“Alright, let me check that out for you. For 8:30?”

“Yeah. I know we’re a bit late,” he said, placing a pointed emphasis on the last word, “but I know you guys have a grace period. So, I’m hoping we can get seated ASAP.” 

A look of brief irritation flashed across the hostess’ face as she picked up two menus. “No problem. Follow me.”

“Ladies first,” he directed towards you, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. You walked behind the hostess, feeling vulnerable to his eyes through the exposed skin on your backless dress.

The hostess guided you to a secluded area at the far corner of the dining room - whether he’d requested the privacy or she had opted to spare herself from Kendall being in her eye line, you were unsure. You thanked her, taking your seat across from your date. 

“Can we start off with two Smirnoffs on the rocks?” Kendall asked.

“Oh, I don’t drink. I’ll have an iced tea,” you said quickly. 

“One Smirnoff and an iced tea then.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as the hostess walked away. 

“Have you, um, been here before?” you inquired, studying him over the top of your menu. 

“Of course. I take all my dates here,” he replied in an indecipherable tone. 

“Oh. Haha,” you deadpanned.

“No, seriously, I do.” He paused, before letting out a curt laugh at your disbelieving expression. “Come on. I’m fucking with you, you know that, right?”

“Hard to tell.” Your face burned. 

“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times. Cool if I order for the both of us? I know which dishes are the best.”

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to hide the disbelief in your voice.

His eyes studied your face. “So, Cecily wasn't wrong. You’re very pretty.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, your glossed lips curving into a hesitant smile. 

“I hear you want to go into politics?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You know, starting out as an ATN anchor wouldn't be so bad,” he said. “I’m sure we could work something out. You know who I am, right?”

“Yup,” you said, forcefully popping the “p”. “Cecily told me all about you.” 

Clearly not enough.

“Cool. Now that I’m out of college, I’m ready to start becoming more involved in Waystar.”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the ego stroke. 

You settled on: “Party days are finally behind you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He flashed you his first grin of the night. 

“Pardon my reach.” A voice appeared at your shoulder, leaning over you to place the drinks on the table, ice clinking in the glasses. 

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” The waiter plastered a smile onto their face and pulled out their notepad. 

You slid the iced tea towards yourself and took a long sip, tuning out Kendall’s voice as he recited your joint order to the waiter.

He focused his eyes on you once they’d left, searching your face once again. You weren’t sure what he was trying to find. You got the impression that he was inept at reading people when so much was centered around himself. 

“Food should be good,” he said simply.

“Mm.” You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom when his phone rang.

He flipped open his Blackberry screen and squinted at the number. “Oh. I should take this. I’ll be right back.”

“No problem,” you said with a polite smile, trying to disguise your relief.

As soon as he was out of sight, you flipped out your own phone and furiously typed out a message.

“U didn’t tell me Kendall was the WORST. WTF?!?!”

Cecily’s reply came within the minute:

“No!!!! He is an acquired taste but I thought the 2 of u might click ):”

Your fingers raced to fire back: "He’s so entitled."

“Growing up rich will do that 2 u,” She wrote.  “Seriously though, he has a good heart. Give him a chance, 4 me?” 

“Ugh,” you murmured to yourself. 

“Fine.”

You closed the phone in frustration and stuffed it into your purse, before noticing a pair of black loafers on the ground next to you. 

You glanced up to meet Kendall’s eyes. He looked as if he didn't quite know how he’d gotten there. Suddenly so much smaller, his arms curled towards his chest and his phone hung limply from his hand. A lone figure amidst the clinking silverware and pleasant conversation. 

“Um, hey..” He said, his voice shaky. His bottom lip was wavering almost imperceptibly.  “I’m not really hungry anymore. Can, uh, can we just go back to my place?” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You shook the grease-soaked paper bag, the remainder of the fries rustling around inside. You balanced it on your lap as you sat gingerly on Kendall’s art deco sofa. 

“Do you want any more?” you asked softly. 

You were answered by the sound of snorting and sniffing from beside you. Then, a nasally: “Nah, I'm good.”

You tried to keep your eyes away from the lines of cocaine on his phone screen. The two of you had sat in silence on the car ride there, save for him asking your McDonald’s order. It had felt so strange to pull through the drive-thru in one of Logan Roy’s many limos, driven by a stuffy, well-dressed chauffeur. 

Kendall still hadn’t spoken to you when you got to his apartment, descending upon bags of white powder he had stashed away. He’d wordlessly offered it to you, and when you vehemently shook your head no, he seemed to interpret that as an invitation to consume more for himself.

You chewed on the fries at the bottom of the bag, feeling like the eating noises were deafening. The apartment was eerily silent, punctuated only by snorting from Kendall’s end of the couch. 

“Thanks, for, uh, being chill with this,” he said dumbly, pinching and wiping his nose. You felt relieved to see that all that was left on his phone was the white residue. 

“With the… cocaine?”

“Just all of it, I guess. Sorry.” He turned his head to fix you with his penetrating gaze. 

You guessed this was as close to an apology for his behavior as you were going to receive. Placing the bag on the table, you hesitantly scooted closer to him.  

“Can I ask what happened on that phone call?”

His head snapped away from you again. “I don't really want to talk about that.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He slumped back on the couch. 

Your purse vibrated from a text. You dug through it for your phone, holding back a dazed laugh as you saw the text that flashed across the screen.

From Cecily: How’s it going??

You switched it to silent. 

“Do you want to smoke a blunt?” Kendall blurted.

“Um, is that a good idea? After… You know.” You jerked your head towards the evidence on his phone.

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it.”

The next thing you knew, you were on his balcony, Kendall’s face illuminated by the skyscrapers and cars passing below. You shivered as the night air chilled you to the bone. 

“Here,” he said, shrugging his jacket off and holding it out to you. 

“Thanks.” Your joint crackling between your fingers, you moved it into the corner of your mouth. You draped Kendall’s jacket over your shoulders and were immediately greeted by the smell of Dior cologne and cigarette smoke. 

“You smoke really sexy,” he said. “Like a James Bond love interest. Mysterious and hot.”

You burst into a mix between a laugh and cough, waving smoke out of your face. “You’re so high right now.”

“So? Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He inhaled deeply, then blew out a smoke ring. “You do this a lot?”

“Go on dates or smoke weed?” you questioned.

“Um, both, I guess.”

“I’ve only smoked a couple times. With friends. And I go on dates every few weeks or so.” 

“All first dates?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Are most of them bad?”

“Kinda.” 

He drew in a deep breath of smoke. “I hope ours doesn’t rank as the worst.” His eyes shined with the vulnerability you’d seen back at the restaurant. As if your opinion held significant weight to him, though you’d known him for less than an hour. As if he couldn't hear one more bad thing tonight. 

“No, of course not. There was one guy who I think was, like, into eugenics?”

“What?” he laughed. 

“Yeah. Like 20 minutes into the date, he said something like,” you deepen your voice, “Doctors say I have the best sperm they’ve ever seen. So I need a healthy wife who’s gonna bear me a shitload of children.”

He let out a curt laugh as a darkness suddenly settled over his expression. Bringing the joint to his mouth, he took another deep inhale. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at his shift in demeanor. 

“No, no. I just fucking hate guys like that, you know? The way they treat women, like they aren't equals.” The inexplicable passion didn't reach his eyes, as if he was reciting a script. 

“Oh. Yeah, fuck him.” You wrapped Kendall’s jacket more tightly around yourself, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. 

“Do you want kids?” he asked after a few moments.

“Uh, I don’t know. Not at this stage of life. But later on, with the right person… maybe,” you replied, your voice nearly drowned out by a gust of wind on the balcony. “What about you?”

“Same,”’ he said tersely. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the joint was in his mouth again before he could. The smoke drifted away in the increasing wind. “You wanna go back inside? Getting pretty cold out here.” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for taking your jacket.”

“Don’t be. It looks good on you.” He paused. “You should keep it.”

You laughed in disbelief, sliding it off of your shoulders. You caught a glance at the tag - Saint Laurent. “I’m not going to keep this, Kendall.”

You tried to toss it back to him, but he expertly moved out of the way. Your heart dropped as the jacket soared off the balcony and onto the street below. Scrambling to the railing, you watched helplessly as it was swallowed up by the headlights. 

Your knuckles whitened around the railing and you could simultaneously feel the color draining out of your face. “Fuck. Kendall, I’m so sorry.” 

He erupted into laughter behind you. “That was a pretty impressive throw.”

You swiveled around and stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly ajar as you imagined the thousands of dollars being flattened by cars below you. “Huh?”

“Hey,” he said, moving forward and placing his hands on your shoulders. “It’s cute how worried you are, but don't stress. I was going to give it to you anyway.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage. 

“Come on, let’s just go inside.” He stubbed the blunt out on the railing and you copied his movements. His free hand found yours, cold and shaking, and steadied it as he interlocked your fingers. 

You welcomed the warmth that greeted you upon stepping back inside his expansive apartment. You could feel a heady sensation wash over your body, a mix of the heat and marijuana putting you into a hazy state of relaxation. Like Kendall, you didn’t care about the jacket: you wanted to hold onto the comfort that he must come back to every night. You let go of his hand and flopped down onto his couch, flinging off your shoes and closing your eyes.

Cecily’s words appeared behind your eyelids: It’s not his fault he grew up rich.

You wondered if you’d be as much of an asshole as he’d been earlier tonight if you were used to being in a bubble where only your needs mattered. You’d probably laugh too if someone threw a $5,000 jacket over your balcony. His lifestyle was like a numbing agent, keeping him coddled and wanting for nothing. But it seemed like he was trying so hard to pretend that he was serious now that he’d come out of college, with his desire to become involved in Waystar - although you surmised he’d spent most of school in a cocaine-induced stupor.

Did it weigh on him that none of this was his? Or did it not matter where it came from, as long as it was his?

You opened your eyes and glanced over, his back facing you. Your eyes studied the curve of his spine through the fabric of his fitted white shirt. You registered the sound of a needle dropping onto a record, and the thump of hip-hop music filled the room. 

“How vintage of you,” you teased.

“I took this player from my dad. He’d probably be pissed if he saw what I was listening to on it.” He turned to you, his eyes alight with supposed rebellion.

He moved closer until he was standing over you, his face a few inches above yours. You rolled over onto your side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, and realized you wanted to know how his lips would feel against yours. Before you could change your mind, you reached out to cup his face and brought it towards you, brushing your mouth against his. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth; he tasted unsurprisingly of cigarettes and vodka, the scent of his cologne again filling your nostrils. 

He clambered on top of you, his pelvis digging into your hips. You smoothed your fingers over his shaggy hair, gelled strands falling into your face and lightly tickling your cheeks. The long, wavy locks felt so inherently boyish as you mussed them up, providing a stark contrast to his attire. You turned your attention to getting rid of that attire, working open the buttons on his pristine white shirt. His body was pale and lean, a light smattering of chest hair coarse underneath your fingertips.

You felt his fingers travel to the back of your dress, tugging on the zipper and sliding it off of your body. He murmured a compliment against your mouth as he ran his hands up your stomach to your breasts, gently squeezing the flesh. 

“You want to move to the bedroom?” he asked softly. 

“Mhmm.” 

He hoisted you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Your lips were fixed to his neck the entire way there, leaving marks on the creamy, stubbled skin. 

Kendall deposited you on his bed before going to undo his belt. You sunk into the plush mattress, intoxicated by his luxuries. Reveling in your high, you pulled your panties down, tracing circles on your clit as you watched him finish undressing. He studied you just as intently. Tugging his pants down revealed his hardening cock through the fabric of his Tom Ford boxers. 

You dipped your fingers into your entrance in eager anticipation. He tossed his boxers to the side, allowing his cock to spring free, precum leaking from the tip.

“Come here,” you murmured, moving the decorative pillows out of the way with your free hand.

His arms were around you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands traveling across your naked body. You were hopelessly under the spell of Kendall Roy, dying for him to be inside you.

“Please,” you whined. 

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me.” 

He tossed one of the pillows at you. “Use that to show me how much you want it.”

You were too far-gone to be irritated at this obvious power trip. 

“Okay,” you sighed, obediently straddling the throw. You rubbed your bare pussy against the blue velvet, undoubtedly leaving a trail of slick as you ground into it. 

He laid on his side in an emulation of Kate Winslet, pumping his cock as he watched you.

“Are you enjoying the show?” you asked, your question punctuated by a soft moan.

“Very much so.” He smirked. “You can stop now.” You ignored him, continuing to roll your hips against the pillow. He reached across the bed and pulled it out from under you. 

“You’re no fun,” you complained, mourning the loss of friction.

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to the pillow?” He put his arms on either side of your torso, boxing you in. You stared up at his face; his expression was hungering for you and for something inaccessible at the same time. If you were sober, you might have stopped, asked him if he was okay. But your drug-addled brain only had one urge: the ubiquitous urge shared by a frat guy hoping to score.

“Yes,” you admitted breathily.

He responded by lightly teasing his cock against your folds. You let out a noise that was a mixture between frustration and lust. He coaxed your legs into the air, putting you into a spread-eagle position. His eyes locking with yours, he slid inside you with agonizing slowness. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to absorb as much of his body heat as possible as he thrusted into you. You were inches away from his dark, intense eyes, feeling so close to him yet so far away at the same time. You wanted to melt into one another so there was not even the tiniest amount of space between you - your flesh turning into jelly, mixing together with his dripping body into one inseparable mass. To share a hive mind, know the thoughts and emotions he was hiding beneath his well-groomed face, the desire behind each movement of his cock. 

His thrusts were sloppy, wet, unfocused. His hands held your legs in place, allowing him to push into you ever deeper. You were intoxicated by the animalistic scent of his sweat as perspiration ran off his chest onto yours. 

“I’m close,” he murmured, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Wait, I’m not on birth control,” you protested, momentarily breaking out of your lustful daze. “Pull out first.”

“Don’t worry, I’m shooting blanks anyway.” He said it as casually as if he was telling you the weather, but he was unable to fully mask the fresh pain in his voice. Words faltered on your lips as shock washed over you. 

“So can I just cum in you?” he pressed.

“Y-Yeah.”

He stilled, a grunt escaping his mouth as a feeling of sticky warmth filled you up. Cum dripped out of your pussy and onto his pristine sheets as he slid out. He flopped onto his side next to you, facing away.

You stood up and walked over to the room’s adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind you.

What the fuck? You mouthed at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed your hair and wiped away your smeared makeup, trying to remove all evidence of a tryst that had soured. You’d blame the weed and forget all your misplaced desperation and affection for a man who didn’t even have the decency to offer to help clean you up. 

You sat down on his heated Toto toilet to empty everything out. When you stood up to flush, you found yourself at eye-level with Logan Roy. He wore a smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face, begrudgingly posing in a newspaper clipping from 1980 which marked the billionaire’s founding of Royco. A clipping that was, strangely, framed and affixed above the toilet in Kendall’s apartment. 

You imagined Kendall standing in front of this toilet every day during his American Psycho morning routine, staring up at his father. Dad, am I good enough for you? Do I piss like a man? A slave to the judgment of his God. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

You scanned the expensive products littered haphazardly across the bathroom counter before lathering your hands in his Aesop soap. You envied the suds and water washing down the drain of the stone vessel sink, wishing you could disappear as easily. Checking your appearance in the mirror one more time, you unlocked the door and cautiously ventured back into the bedroom. 

Kendall’s back was still facing you, his limbs splayed out awkwardly across the bed. He almost appeared to be shaking despite the warmth of the apartment.  

“Um, do you want me to stay?” you asked quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured into the pillow. His voice was thick with tears.

Damn it.

You didn't owe him anything, but you still couldn't bear to leave him like this. Tentatively, you laid beside him, reaching for his hand. He crossed his fingers through yours. You flinched at the sensation of his clammy palm. 

“The call I took at dinner, it was the sperm bank telling me my sample wasn't viable,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. 

Your stomach plummeted to the floor. It was as if all the blanks of the night had been suddenly filled in. Every strange reaction, forlorn look, shifty glance. “I'm so sorry.”

He rolled over to face the ceiling. He stared at it for several moments as if trying to decipher something in the creases of the paint. “It was a stupid dare by my friend to donate it. He thought it'd be funny if Logan Roy had some nobody heir out there somewhere and he never knew.” He sniffled. “Anarchy and all that shit, right? Well, now he won’t have an heir at all. At least not from me.”

“There are other ways, Kendall,” you comforted.

“I know my family. None of them will be the right way.” 

You snuck a glance at his red-rimmed eyes, feeling your pull towards his lifestyle fade into obscurity. In his world of excess, there was a constant demand for more, and he was never quite enough. Just laying beside him felt stifling. The massive bedroom was closing in on you. 

You waited for him to say something else, but all you heard coming from his side of the bed was soft, steady breathing. You weren’t going to wait for him to regain consciousness. You were going to take this chance to leave, doubting that he’d ever contact you again and feeling guilty about not contacting him first. 

You threw one last look at his crumpled form before leaving to collect your purse from the living room. You were left still slightly buzzed, consumed by the odd combination of human emotions that you surmised kept zoos in business: pity for the caged animal mixed with a sick, guilty fascination at the spectacle of it all. As you boarded the elevator down to the ground floor, you pulled your phone out and stared blankly at your chat with Cecily, wondering what the fuck you were going to tell her. Your head buried in your Blackberry, you almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to you as you pushed out of the revolving doors.

“Miss. Miss!” You whirled around to see the chauffeur from earlier waiting patiently by the limo, parked out front. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh- are you sure?” You wondered how long he'd been waiting there.

“Yes,” he said tersely. 

“Okay, thank you so much.” You clambered into the car, reciting the area of New York City where you lived. You were unsure whether you appreciated this gesture or felt like you were being shuttled away like just another hook-up. But you were just another hook-up, you reminded yourself. You were a blip on Kendall’s radar, a chance encounter, a rando he’d told too much. All you could do now was forget.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

[cera-writes]

An Unconventional Debut: A Bridgerton AU story — Remy LeBeau x F!Reader

~Part 1

Tags: slow burn, jealousy, teasing, scandals, forbidden love, and debauchery Prompt: Reader, who comes from the esteemed Everleigh Family, finds herself named Diamond of the Season by the Queen herself. many eligible bachelors are vying for her attention and potential hand in marriage, but she only wants to marry for love. Will she find it, or will her family arrange a marriage for her?

Prelude:

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow upon your face as you exited Madame Delacroix's dress shop with your handmaid. A triumphant smile played upon your lips. The lavender gown you'd chosen for the Trowbridge Ball had been a resounding success, and today's fitting for the upcoming Stafford Soiree promised to be just as delightful.

As you descended the steps, lost in a vision of silk and tulle, you collided with a figure as you exited the shop. With a startled yelp, you stumbled back, only to find a strong hand steady your elbow.

Looking up, you found herself face to face with a stranger. He was tall and handsome, with chocolate tresses tied back, a few loose strands grazing his cheekbones. His eyes were unusual, unlike anything you'd ever seen that held the glint of both amusement and something akin to surprise.

"Forgive me, Miss...?" he said, his voice a deep baritone, "seems ah done lost my mind for a second there, chérie."

"Everleigh," you responded, nearly breathless by how strikingly pretty he was for a gentleman. His accent was what really drew you to him. It was so unusual but it peaked your interest in him even moreso.

Regaining your composure, you realised with a jolt who this intriguing gentleman was. Monsieur Remy Lebeau, the enigmatic new arrival who had set tongues wagging throughout London.

"No harm done, Monsieur LeBeau," you replied, a touch of amusement dancing in your own eyes.

A smile played on his lips. "Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle. But where could a charmin' flower like yourself be bloomin' off to so quickly?"

You, ever the picture of propriety, explained your errand to Madame Delacroix's.

"Ah," he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice, "preparin' for another conquest, I see."

"Hardly, Monsieur," you countered, a touch of defiance in your tone. "A lady simply enjoys a beautiful gown."

Your gazes locked for a moment, a spark of something unexpected passing between you. Then, with a slight bow, Monsieur LeBeau took your hand and brushed it with a light kiss.

"Until we meet again, Miss Everleigh," he said, his voice a low murmur laced with French charm. "May your gown be as dazzlin' as you are, cherie. Tout le monde va être hypnotisé."

Flustered, you could only manage a breathless "Thank you," before he turned and strolled down the street, leaving your heart pounding a wild rhythm against your ribs. Perhaps the Stafford Soiree held more in store than just a new gown.

Once you'd returned home with your handmaid, you couldn't wait to have another run in with Monsieur Labeau. Perhaps you'd see him at the upcoming ball.

Your mother, Miss Alice Everleigh, noticed your giddiness. "My my, what's got my daughter so giddy this afternoon?" she inquired, quirking a brow as she sipped on her tea.

"I just met the most unusual gentleman while on my way home," you replied, lazily sitting down on the bergère.

"Oh, do tell." Your mother quipped, suddenly interested in what you had to tell her as she sat opposite from you on the chaise longue.

You were the only child of the Everleigh family, so securing a husband was detrimental. Luckily for you, you were named Diamond of the Season, so you should have no trouble finding a husband to secure your family's wealth.

"Monsieur Remy LeBeau. Have you heard the man speak? He had me weak in the knees, mother."

Your mother's eyes went wide, nearly slamming her cup of tea down on the table. "You are to stay away from him. I've heard of his reputation and you will not succumb to being another one of his...desserrés," your mother scoffed, appalled that you'd already made his acquaintance.

"Oh, do calm yourself mother. I merely just met him," you rolled your eyes.

"I'm sorry darling, it's just that you'll have a lot of gentleman vying for your attention this season and securing a husband, the right husband, is detriment to your standards, our standards as this family. We've worked so hard to get you to this point love," she explained, hoping to talk some sense into you.

You rolled your eyes, now more than ever, wanting nothing more than to retire for the night.

"I understand, mama."

That didn't stop you from dreaming about Remy that night though. His accent spoke pretty words in your ear as you dreamt of him, dreamt sinful things no lady in waiting should dream of.

The ball couldn't come soon enough.

[fastlikealambo]

burn for you: coriolanus snow x black!fem reader regency au

summary: notorious rake coriolanus snow, duke of districtshire, must marry or face financial ruin. he sets his sights on you, an extremely wealthy woman in your own right and what transpires over one year told in 4 acts will change both their lives.

this is a sample chapter, please interact, comment or reblog if you would like to see the full chapter.

@rosewine-5

@saturnville

      Act One: Autumn

                                       

Just before the first leaves fell, Crassus Snow, the former Duke of Districtshire, died beneath the warm thighs of a chambermaid, a simple fact that brought joy to His Grace, Coriolanus Snow, his son and the new Duke of Districtshire every single time he thought about it.

The social season had begun and from his rooms in The Corso, he could see that the entire street had begun preparations for The Plinth Ball to open the season. Sejanus would be arriving soon to go over strategy for a successful social event but Coriolanus wasn’t the least bit worried, in fact he was annoyed.

He was a duke now, his name was on several ladies’ dance cards, he had an entire legion of staff and a village at his disposal, the world should have been his for the taking. But with his new title came his father’s old debts and the bastard loved to spend.

His Grace Coriolanus Snow, Duke of Districtshire, was flat fucking broke.

A knock at the door interrupted Coryo’s dream of a new cravat and with the arrival of his grandmother and cousin, his annoyance only grew with whatever Grandma’am was about to pester him with.

     “Coryo,I fixed the buttons on your jacket for the ball, pearls from the guest room curtains worked perfectly. I need to see it on you, make sure it fits like it’s supposed to.” Tigris said

 Coryo was only happy to oblige as his most beloved cousin moving back in with them after his father died had been the only bright spot in weeks. Slipping into the tailcoat, he looked in the mirror, admiring Tigris’ work.

Above all, he would look every inch the duke his father never was even if he only had a bit of cabbage and cold mutton to break his fast all day.

   “It’s wonderful,Tigris, thank you.” Coriolanus said truthfully, happy to see her smile while Grandma’am continued to look dour.

   “I had a letter from Lord Highbottom. He purchased the country estate without any warning and he intends to buy this home, our ancestral home, within a year if we do not pay what your father owed him for investing in his peasant child fighting establishment failure. You must marry well and marry now, Coriolanus! Do you wish me to be the laughingstock of the gardening society?” 

Grandma’am rather melodramatically threw herself onto the nearest settee, sobbing into a handkerchief while Tigris patted her back and gave her cousin an apologetic look.

No.

He did not wish to marry, not when there was fun to be had, that was something for a later date of his choosing, not in his first months of dukedom.

If it took selling off a prized horse or two, so be it.

Absolutely not, not happening.

    “You know my grandson, Coriolanus? He’s very much on the hunt for a suitable bride tonight! There’s not a young lady in all of Panem that wouldn’t want the title of Duchess and my grandson on their arm.”

Grandma’am’s voice unfortunately carried throughout the Plinth ballroom and it took everything in Coryo to not jump through the nearest window and to a brothel where his coin was far more interesting than his title.

       “Cheer up Your Grace, you’re scaring your potential brides.” Clemensia Dovecote quipped, stealing the  champagne flute from him with a smile.

      “Is it really that obvious, Clemmie?”

      “You look like you were bit by several snakes. Come dance with me unless you’d like to be set upon by overeager mamas in the next sixty seconds?”

Coriolanus could see Grandma’am leading an army towards him and joined the quadrille without a second thought.

All he had to do was pick the most agreeable one with the biggest dowry and their money problems would be settled with no more interference from Highbottom. 

He could buy all the cravats he wanted.

No.

He was still a duke and dukes did whatever they wanted and at this moment he wanted a drink, not a duchess.

Yet as he made his way to the nearest servant, the sound of double doors opening made him stop and everyone in the ballroom cease talking and dancing.

You.

You walked through the double doors, a masterpiece for all to gaze upon and immediately every thought of leaving early left Coriolanus’ mind.

Perhaps there was fun to be had this evening.

[frogchiro]

Am I straight horny from reading eremite thirst? Yes. Do I want to dress up in Babel's clothing infront of them? Yes. Yes I do. I mean Babel got some hip windows and I know damn well her clothes are MADE to he ripped off

AS YOU SHOULD BE NONNY

rfhgueguegu I just looked up Babel and good golly please step on me lady

and you're right her clothes are as hot as she is, i'm going genuinely feral for the hip windows, as would the men of your group <3

fem!reader, slight nsfw, the usual drill; hot, big and horny Eremite men having the ultimate hots for you <3

Since you're staying with them permanently now, you decided on incorporating their style and culture into your life and what better to begin with than clothes! You bought them from a traveling merchant during a short stay at the Caravan Ribat before continuing further into the desert.

You had to set up camp for the night and since there has been a successful hunt with minimal damage your boys decided that a small celebration is in place; you could swear that they'd find any excuse to celebrate and make you dance for them so that they could use it as a way to grope you and eventually drag you back into the tent an have their way with you.

SO, you decided that this little gathering is a perfect way to make use of your new dress! It's a bit skimpy but it feels as if it's weightless, the dark gauzy fabric perfectly accentuating your curves and hugging all the right places.

Just as you got the last piece in place, a booming voice just outside your tent made you slightly jump as one of the men announced that they've set up the fire and roast and they're waiting for you which earned you a few loud and excited whoops of delight from the others.

You smiled slightly and made your way to remove the flap of the tent and reveal yourself getting kinda anxious what would they say about your new outfit, would they like it? What if you ended up looking ridiculous and-

Your train of thoughts was immediately brought to a halt when you noticed all the men staring at you, their eye bandanas temporarily removed and looking-or rather leering-right at you.

You noticed the look right away; dark, hungry, lustful, that of predator just about to pounce on a unsuspecting prey. You got bashful as you slowly stepped into the area where they were sitting in silence still, just looking.

Before you could say something to get the out of this trance you let out a yelp as suddenly a pair of strong arms belonging to Geo Enchanter wrapped around your middle and dragged you straight into his lap while the men sitting next to him flocked closer and started to run their hands all over you.

"And just where did ya get this thing Little Lady, hmm~? Think you can just walk dressed like that and expect a man to behave?"

The dark skinned man growled into your ear before nipping it lightly and letting his big scarred hands wander all over your body and slip under the sheer chest piece to tease your quickly stiffening nipples.

"I-ah! I-bought it. From that cloth merchant back at the Caravan Ribat. Y-You were so silent when I walked out, I thought you didn't like it-!"

Your ramble was quickly cut short by a slight swat to your bottom and the booming laughs of the surrounding men; just when did they all get so close?

"Well, ya can be pretty sure we like it, don't we boys?", Sunfrost's quip was answered by delighted calls.

"Then let's show this pretty Lady how much we love it~"

That sentence basically sealed your fate and they took you right then and there, on the laid out on the furs under the shining stars and night sky. When they were finaly finished with you, you were back inside the shared tent, all of the men tired out and panting with fatigue.

Right there in the middle of the sweaty bodies laid your naked form, the beautiful dress torn to shreds earlier in the night by the hungry hands of the Eremites; a shame really, the dress really was pretty but hey! At least you can be sure that your boys liked it too, right~?

[theresattrpgforthat]

I found a goth speakeasy/coffee shop by my school that does a Thursday tabletop night where you can bring and run your own games and I was wondering if you had any recommendations for games you'd feel comfterble running with a table of strangers / mostly strangers? Thank you!!

THEME: Games to Run with Strangers.

Hello friend, fall comes upon us and I finally get around to answering your ask. Thank you so much for your patience! I’d definitely recommend bringing some safety tools to any of these games, since you’re playing them with strangers. That being said, I tried to pick games that were easy to pick up and quick to learn considering you’d probably want each session to be a standalone one.

I often run games with groups of people who don't know each-other beforehand, and I'd recommend allowing silliness to blossom when possible, even if you're running a spooky game. Let’s see what we can find!

Wizardry and Bureaucracy, by Oh Little Moth.

You are a member of the National Parks Service. You and your team would do just about anything to protect your national park. Also, you’re wizards. But all the magic in the world can’t save you from the slog of paperwork you have to endure as a civil servant. Your mission is to preserve your park and all creatures living in it, promote a love of nature and the environment, and also keep park visitors from seeing through the curtain separating the magical from the mundane.

Like most Lasers and Feelings games, this has quite a bit packed into one page. Easy character generation, a standard list of gear, an introduction where you collaboratively design your park, and the classic Lasers and Feelings mechanic that makes you automatically better at one thing and worse at another. The game is also set up to be raucously silly. This game includes the very good piece of GM advice that I adore for improv: ask questions and build on the answers. You don’t have to come up with the entire story yourself! Give your players the chance to tell you how exactly magic interacts with the local National Park.

The Children of Saturn, by Dan John Crowler.

The people of Petrikstein are tormented by a blood craving beast prowling the night. Players take the roles of parish appointed investigators on a mission to find and slay this alleged Vampyr, before it claims even more lives. Will they be able to find out the truth in web of lies, myths, and fear fueled superstitions? Play to find out!

The Children of Saturn is a neat little game that combines the Keys mechanic from John Harper’s Lady Blackbird with the graded 2d6 roll of Powered by the Apocalypse. You can accumulate dice to roll depending on whether the action in question is in line with your character, and failure increases the chances of success the next time you roll. The characters are pre-made to some extent, but the players will be able to make them unique through names, descriptions, and how they decide to role-play. This game also come with a small hex map for your characters to explore - and everything fits on one page! If you want something spooky and quick to prep, this is definitely worth checking out.

2400, by Jason Tocci.

2400 is lo-fi sci-fi. It’s centuries in the future, and it’s a decades-old modem that screams like a dying robot when it connects to the net. It’s a space ship with an FTL drive, artificial gravity, and a flickering display you gotta tap a few times to see the jump coordinates. It’s hacking something together with whatever cheap materials you have on hand, ignoring the rules until you need them, banging out something that might not sound finished, but definitely sounds fun.

The 2400 system is a stripped-down ruleset inspired by the OSR that has been used to create a number of hacks in different settings. Every time I’ve run a 24XX game, the session lasted about 2 hours, so it definitely has the ability to play quick. The original page for 2400 currently has over 20 different settings to choose from, so if one of them really hits off, you could come back with a different setting each week for your friends to play through!

The Great Soul Train Robbery, by Cloven Pine Games.

On the road to hell there was a railway line. An express train to the infernal city of Dis, crewed by furies and carrying treasure and souls to damnation. You’re going to rob it.

The Great Soul Train Robbery is a tabletop roleplaying game for 2–6 players and 1 gamemaster about Desperados robbing the train to Hell. Spin an allegorical Weird Western yarn as your sharpshooters, fiddlers, homesteader widows, and other Desperados attempt a Hellish train heist. Will you claim your prize from the train, or be overcome, damned, or broken by the heist?

This is probably the biggest Honey Heist - inspired game that I’ve seen to date. It’s a solid pitch, with very little background needed in order for your players to grasp what exactly it is they’re doing. If players aren’t sure what kind of character they want to make, all of the options have d6 roll tables to give your group a goal, your train some complications, and your character a name and a special item. There’s quite a few pages of GM advice in this, which is probably a big boon to anyone running the game, as it allows you to construct a more complex train than what you might have created out of the top of your head. I’d probably even just steal the train construction section to use for other similar games!

Hold Your Own, by Sharkbomb Studios.

It's a time and place, not unlike the one that you, the players, grew up in. A dark mirror of the decade of your youth.  You play as a group of friends at the cusp of adolescence and life is hard. You're unpopular and unwanted. All you've got is each other.

But it comes worse: A strange menace threatens to devour everyone you know. And nobody wants to believe you, not the teachers, not the parents. It looks like it's up to you to save your home.

Fans of It and Stranger Things will probably like this game. This game uses small dice pools and four basic stats. You’ll be facing off against an antagonist called the Menace, a threat that the rest of the community believes doesn’t exist. The Menace will always be strong enough to provide a challenge, and as you play, you’ll learn more and more about what it is exactly that you’re fighting against. This is a great game for fans of suspense, and it’s also small enough to learn it within the few hours that you’d have at a coffee shop.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Something is Wrong with the Chickens, by Elliot Davis.

Koboldly Go, by CoffeeSnake Studios.

Faewater, by A Smouldering Lighthouse.

The Station, by pidj.

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞♡︎

pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, sub!wanda x dom!reader, Thor Odinson x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

summary: Wanda had been teasing you all night and your patience was beyond thin with the witch so you get a little revenge and give her a punishment early when she steps a little too close with a toaster

word count: 880+

warning(s): Reader is a empath, magical orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, public sex not really but kinda, jealousy, kisses, and language

A/n:—GIF; @dreamgirlevil & @nikolatexla— you guys seem to like sub Wanda so here we are

You sat at the bar talking to a very bright and loud Thor as and a smirking Natasha Tony forced invited you and your girlfriend Wanda to his Christmas party at first you had no intention to attend whatsoever but your little witch could be very persuading

The red skirt she wore with a thick black belt and and and even bigger buckle to impersonate old Saint Nick was very distracting but you had set a note for yourself that kept you focused on the conversation at once

You’d get your gif sooner or later.

You’d get your gif sooner or later.

Thor telling some story about Asgard never seem to put a very infrequent smile on your face you viewed the man as a father of the sorts him, Natasha, and Bucky tied when it came to opening up the most

Usually you were all ears for the blondes story times but as you scanned through the unnecessarily large crowd your smile dropped as the view of Wanda talking to Vision twisting the tips of her in her fingertips as a Santa hat rested on the top of her head

As you began to look back at the group of people you sat around you could see Natasha in your face smirking wide at you and you couldn’t help but advert your glare from the advanced res toaster across the room to the redhead assassin in front of you

“Are you alright lady Y/n? Your eyes seem to be flashing war” Thor spoke up from his position completely oblivious and innocent to the silent conversation You and Natasha were having beside you placing a large hand on your shoulder

“I’m fine Goldie, I would really like to meet Heimdall one day but I have to excuse myself” Your eyes only left Natasha’s when you spoke of the Gods mentor and all around best friend as he nodded with a bright smile on his face sending you off

As you got up from your position sitting on a bar stool your hands rested at your side as you swifted and swayed your fingers walking through the crowd of people

💌💌💌💌

Wanda felt herself pause mind going blank as she listed to the words the fell from Visions lips in the air her vision went blurry and Vision could see the redheads eyes flash crimson as Wanda felt a pleasurable torture in her underwear it felt as if 1000 orgasms was rushing over her core at once

“e-excuse me for a second v-vision” Wanda attempted to excuse herself before your arm wrapped around her shoulder you could feel the witch’s glossy eyes on you but your line of sight was focused on the human like android in front of you

“Vision, how are you this evening?” Wanda could tell you were in no mood to talk and your question to the man had a purpose for you own pleasure

“Delighted Ms. Y/l/n, I was just Talking to Wanda about our last mission” There was slight smugness in his voice that had you tilting your head a certain way as Wanda gripped onto the fabric of your sweater a small gasp coming from her parted lips as she squeezed her legs closed

The last mission he happened to be talking about was a small one in Afghanistan that him along with Wanda and Steve took while you were on your own mission in Wisconsin and you couldn’t help but want to wipe the smug look right off Visions face

“Congratulations on your success, my darling here told me all about how she had to heal you in the field never got much of it but I know surprise shots could be a scare we’ll not for most of us who just have faster reflexes” Vision was breaking under the pressure of your game and you loved ever Meer passing second of it

But you were getting impatient and Wanda knew that you were about to end your game and it caused a dripping to run down her thighs to her feet that rested in the black boots she wore

“Now it was nice talking to you Vision, but me and Wanda should get going I apologize if you hear a little commotion tonight but I think that’ll teach you a little something about the way you talk to my witch”

Just as you finished your sentence Wanda came with a loud cry that you couldn’t hear over the music unless you were close and Vision was indeed close enough

“Tell Vision goodnight Wanda.” You demanded lightly as the redheads body shook in your side at the overstimulation reaching down you pinched her bottom as she gasped her hips jerking

“g-g-goodnight vision-n” You gave one more smile to the a android before turning around trailing off with Wanda right on your trying to keep her wobbly legs under control as she passed greeting guests

“Pull something like that again and I’ll fuck you stupid right in front of him” You growled into the girls ear as you both made your way into the elevator

“Y-yes mam” Wanda didn’t think she had stuttered in less than five minutes in her life but even if she wanted to think about her brain was clouded with euphoria and ecstasy

Wanda knew it would be a long night for her.

[0rah-s]

Sinbad (Magi) and his divorced wife (modern au please, or if you don't feel comfortable with that, you can do it in the regular world)

Reader divorced him because of how he viewed things and how close he would get with other women, she's kinda gay

And Sinbad is kind of sad because of the fact that the only woman he truly loved wants nothing to do with him.

Even add a gremlin, a kid to the mix if it entertains you!!

Pls 💛

You don't have to if you don't want too!!

Sinbad x ex-wife!reader

Cw: fem reader, written in second person, english isn't my first language, you have an adopted kid, disloyalty from him, idk.

A/n: thank you for requesting and im so sorry for taking so long to do your request, writer's block be hitting harder lately. Hope you enjoy it mwah!!

How many times had he entertained the young women who threw themselves at him in the middle of your dates, right in front of your eyes?

.

Never could you say anything about it as its not like he was really cheating on you, he was "just playing" as he loved to say. It drove you insane.

.

In addition to his borderline unfaithfulness, there was also his questionable morals and the things he did to get what he wanted. All of it always rubbed you the wrong way but you fought to love him anyway.

.

But as we all know, ine can only fight for so long.

.

All of it kept adding up and and you found yourself bothe sat at the kitchen table. You slide him a paper - a divorce settlement document.

.

He tried to give you excuses and promised he would change but you were set, there's no way you'd lock yourself in a toxic cycle of wrong-doing, excises, and forgivness forever.

.

After the divorce,

You went on with your life like nothing happend

Of course it still stung to part from the man you loved oh so much but you had to move on.

.

Weeks pass and he isn't the same anymore. He went out to different bars and surrounded himself with ladies, reminding himself that he didn't need you.

.

What a conman.

.

He desperately needed you. Being a man of his position there wasn't many he could trust, somehow he opened up to you and gave you his heart. He knew how precious your love was to him yet he ruined it - entirely by himself. He'll never experience somehing like this again.

.

Guilt hollowing him as he grieves the missing part of him and as he thinks of the sadness he caused you. He'd become a waste.

.

Fast forward, you grew as a person and became successful, no longer the women you used to be.

Things kept getting better and better for you as if taking the weed out of your life made place for a rich and flowery garden to bloom effervescently.

.

You could finally breath.

.

Long after, you adopted a gremlin a kid!

You gave them the ever best life they deserved and enjoy life as a successful mother and child. Life simply couldn't get better.

.

Then he saw you.

.

Then you saw him.

.

He couldn't belive it's, the then live of his life standing right in front of him after years of no contact.

.

"H-hi..." He uttered, trying his best to make himself sound more confident - it failed.

.

"Hello" you replied coldly.

.

A long awkward silence took over when you decide to walk away before he starts to question about your life or worst - enter it again.

.

"I should go" you sai as you walk past him but barely a couple step away and he grips your wrist.

.

Tho he was strong, his hold on you was gentle, almost pleading.

.

"Please wait? Can we talk?" He asks trying his best to think of ways to have you remain by him even for a little longer.

.

"What is there to talk about sinbad? We're over"

You say curtly, not wanting to go weak and give in to him in the way is face begged you to.

.

He notices the young child beside and questions flooded his mind. 'A child? Was it hers? Ours? Hasd she found someone new? How much of their lives have i missed?' Then guilt came back stronger than ever, not being made easy but the way the kid clutched on your trousers.

.

"Mom, who's that?" They ask innocently.

.

"An old friend, dear" you smile at your child lovingly.

.

An old friend, those words rung in his head like hell bells.

.

He let go of your wrist and she walked away.

.

You sufferd through him, why shouldn't he? Regardless of how he feels you have more to care about.

.

He'll find a way to heal, you wish him that much. But for now the only thoughts in your head is what you're going to do today to make this day unforgettable for your child and yourself.

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Man... So yeah... I've got conflicting feelings about Batman: The Caped Crusader... On the one hand, the art direction and the backgrounds? I can genuinely dig them! The diversity and number of people of color in the main cast? Fantastic! And I'm down for them trying out new takes on old or obscure rogues! The tone and atmosphere can be pretty good at times, and I appreciate the 1940's setting and the weird little oddities the show has because of the retro setting.

But to me, by far the most interesting thing about the show is that it doesn't really feel like a show about Batman. But rather that the show is about the systems of corruption that make Gotham the way that it is and stay that way. Batman has 0 qualms about beating the shit out of the cops, and I dig the hell out of that! Bruce often feels secondary to what Barbara, Renee, and Harvey are up to. The show feels like it's about Gotham! And what Batman is here to do and does is secondary to the other people living in it and trying to change things for Gotham. And I can dig that about this series! And honestly, seeing Barbara and Renee just being complete and utter badasses throughout the whole show and always being the best, most competent, incorruptable people in the room? Kinda delightful! Batman just gets to be a chump sometimes. And it's pretty funny to see the men go down with the easiest of punches while the ladies seem to be able to tank anything coming their way! Love that for them! But honestly... It really does seem like the show is a LOT more interested in the struggles of the poor, the people of color, and the women of the city than it is with the perspective of the rich, white, cis, male society that we usually see! So that's a direction I really appreciate with the show!

But on the negative side, BOY HOWDY does that animation look sloppy sometimes. And in fact, the animation style is often far too close to that of Scooby-Doo for my liking! When I started the 5th episode with Gentleman Ghost, I felt a little baffled because I just put on Batman... But what I was seeing looked like it was literally pulled straight out of Scooby-Doo! The only real animation details that made it NOT look like Scooby-Doo was MAYBE the eyeliner on some of the characters. And even then, only maybe. Like it's not exactly surprising, but still a bit of a bummer. :p Also this is probably just a me thing, but I wish that Batman was just more successful when it came to saving people. Like, I entirely got that they wanted this show to be for adults so they they could raise the stakes and actually kill characters off... But there are just a few instances that feel like a bummer and I wish that Batman was given a chance to save them... Speaking of... Spoilers below the cut!

Man! I'm bummed out by what they did with Harvey! He's my favorite! He's my boi! I love he! And he just gets killed off! Like... I was genuinely interested to see what they were doing with him. It wasn't my ideal direction for Harvey, but it was interesting! And I would have liked to see more of him! I would have liked to see more of the dynamic between Harvey and Two-Face! And their dynamic with Barbara was genuinely very fun to see! But yeah... They killed him off and he's very VERY unlikely to come back! I think that it would have been more interesting if they tried to keep him around. In that last episode, he asks what kind of happy ending he can have where he gets out of this. And honestly, I think that it would have been more fun and challenging for them to try and answer that question! But nah. They just killed him off. Siiiiigh... Also when thinking about the themes of the show, them killing Harvey off feels a little... Troubling... So at the very least, if Caped Crusader does return for a second season... I sure as FUCK hope that Harvey haunts the ever-loving FUCK out of the narrative! Cause honestly, I could have stood to see more of this interpretation of him! But alas! Siiiiigh...

Also lol. Apparently my prediction of the direction that they were trying to do with this Two-Face and Harvey was spot on. And that's kinda hilarious! :P

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 2 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You try to back out on being a debutant so you can stop taking lessons with Mr. Jeon but your mother is going to do everything she can to make you follow through Paring: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Like one cuss word but thats about it lol a/n: Let me know how you guys are liking this! I was planning on posting this later but I wanted to see if posting around this time would be better :) p.s. roughly edited lol

"Mom! Mom! Where are you?" I yell as soon as I get home. "I'm right here so please stop yelling, you know that there is no yelling in this household" she scolds. "Okay, then why did you yell at me when I got a bad grade on my midterm paper?" I throw in her face. "Watch your tone y/n I am still your mother" she retorts. "Now what is it?" she says quickly turning the conversation back to it's intended course. 

"I can't do this" I say and start making my way to the living room with her soon trailing behind. "Do what?" she sighs once we've both sat down. "This whole debutante thing, it's not for me" I say hoping it would pacify her but knowing for a fact that would never happen. "You're doing it!" she says, wanting to end the conversation already. 

"No I'm not!" I argue back "I'm not cut out for this thing. This life of high society and playing nice with strangers, pretending like you actually care about what they're talking about. I just can't pretend to be someone I'm not" I explain but unfortunately she'll have none of it. "Did something happen at your lessons today?" she asks, hoping to find the cause of my anxieties.

"Nothing happened" I huff, standing up and making my way to my room. "Obviously something happened since you always seem to have something to say about everything even at the most inopportune times" she says, obviously exacerbated by the memories. "Are you talking about the time I added staying alive to the set list at grandpa's funeral?" I question chuckling at the memory. 

"See this is exactly why you need those lessons. It's time to grow up, and if you're not ready to do that yet then I'll just have you get a job and start paying your own tuition so you can learn on your own what it means to be an adult" she threatens. "James said that he would pay for my tuition if I decided I wanted to go back to college. You can't take that away from me!" I argue and stop in my tracks, surprised and upset that she would even stoop that low. 

"Since you still feel the need to whine over small sacrifices such as these then it looks like we should probably start giving you some more responsibilities so you will grow up. Just take the damn lessons y/n, it would really make your father and I happy if we could introduce you to everyone properly" she explains softening her tone towards the end.

"But he-" I start, wanting to tell her what my instructor made me do but we're cut off by the sound of James getting home. "How are my two lovely ladies doing?" he asks while giving my mother a kiss on her temple. "Oh we're fine, y/n was just telling me how much she enjoyed her first lesson right?" she says giving me a stern face, daring me to say otherwise.

"Oh yeah they were great Mr. Jeon seems like a very nice man" I say giving him a half smile, forcing the answer out of myself. I hate lying to him, especially since he's been nothing but nice to me so far. A lot nicer than my mother that's for sure, so I would hate to mess things up with him. 

"Well that's great news! Especially since he called me just now and asked if you would like to take more lessons with him. It seems like he's taken a special interest in you and wants to really make sure you're set up for success. Would that be something that you would like?" he asks, thankfully leaving the decision up to me but with the glare my mother is giving me it seems like from her point of view there's only one obvious answer for this question.

"That works for me. Whatever you both think would be best is be fine by me" I say, doing my very best to sound as genuine as possible even though I'm dying inside. 

"Wonderful! He's asked if we could do three days of etiquette and two days of dance lessons during the week and on days closer to events we should do dance lessons on the weekend before the event as well. That schedule work out alright for you?" he asks while taking out his phone to no doubt sending a message to Matthew to contact Mr. Jeon tomorrow morning so he's prepared for my newly scheduled lessons as well.

"Yes that's fine but where will I be taking my dance lessons?" I question now confused as to why Mr. Jeon would speak to James about them as well. "Oh I didn't tell you?" he's your dance instructor as well" James says and leaves to his office to take a phone call. 

"No fucking way am I dancing with that man" I say turning back to my mother once he's out of earshot. "Did he do something that made you feel uncomfortable?" she asks, just now deciding to finally ask why I didn't want to take the lessons. "No he's just a dick" I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Really, that's the reason? What did you expect? He's meant to teach you to act like a lady and let's be honest, a nice sweet approach isn't going to work on you" she says and makes her way to who knows where, to do who knows what. With how big this house is it could honestly be anything. 

~~~~~~~~

"So is he hot?" Jesse asks, clearly interested in how things went yesterday. "I mean I guess but he's too rude for me to even begin to pay attention to that" I huff, frustrated at the thought of him alone. "What's his name?" he asks, taking out his phone to look him up.

"I don't remember but his last name is Jeon" I say taking a bite out of my sandwich. "J-o-h-n?" he questions, confused at the unusual surname. "No J-e-o-n. I'm pretty sure he's Korean" I say and slide over to his side to see what he can dig up on him.

"Jeon Private Etiquette Tutor" he types in and hits enter. "Woah" both of us say, seeing how many articles and pictures of him with actors, CEOs and public figures. "This guy must be loaded" Jesse says, clearly stunned at who he's worked with. "And he's hot! Damn girl you really won if this Jungkook guy wants to see you five times a week" he says and keeps on clicking through everything he can get him hands on about him. "And seven days a week when there's some stupid event I have to go to" I groan just thinking about how many hours of my life I'm going to waste with him. 

"He's only 27, I wonder if he's single" Jesse says winking at me. "For me or for you because you can have him" I scoff making him laugh. "No take backs! Well, unless he's straight. Then you can have him back. No matter how heartbreaking that might be" he says, wiping away fake tears. "Sorry to break it to you babe but he probably wouldn't go for either of us" I say placing a hand on his shoulder and getting up to leave.

"Hey! Where are you going? We don't start class for another half an hour" he yells after me. "I gotta go change since he wants me to be 'dressed like a lady' when I come and I won't have time after class" I yell turning to face him as I walk backward for a second. "Alright, have fun Barbie" he yells as I get further away to which I respond with a shake of my head as I make my way over to my car. 

"Acceptable" he says taking in my form. "Although the hem is far too short" he says looking down at my legs again before looking back up and making eye contact with me. "It was all I could find on such short notice" I explain but unfortunately he isn't satisfied with my answer. 

"Excuses will get you no where, you either do it or you don't. I'm sure you could have put in a little more effort into finding something more suitable if you had tried. Let's remedy the situation by the next class shall we?" he finishes off sarcastically before turning his back to me and walking over to the sound system in the corner of the room and I take the chance to stick my tongue out at him in retaliation. 

"You do you realize there are mirrors in this room correct?" he asks, clearly not amused with what he had seen me doing. "My apologies Mr. Jeon" I settle on, not bothering to give an excuse this time. "But are you really?" he asks, walking back towards me slowly, his voice an octave lower, catching me off guard. "N-no" I answer truthfully, nervous with the way he stalks towards me with clear displeasure enveloping his entire existence. 

He leans towards me talking directly into my ear, clearly using tactics to show his dominance over the situation. "Let us be honest with each other then. It would be a waste of both of our time if we were to do otherwise" he say sending shivers down my spine and I hate that it's something I couldn't have controlled even if I wanted to. "Is that clear?" he asks, his warm breath hitting my neck making my mind feel clouded, leaving me confused on how to respond to him leaving me only being able to nod in response.

"Good" he says leaning back, giving what I had hoped for was a little more room to breathe. "Next time use your words" he says tilting my chin up just as he had done at my last lesson. "Yes Mr. Jeon" I say quietly, leaving him satisfied with my cooperation and straightening back up to go back to what he had been working on.

'What the fuck was that? What the fuck was that? What THE FUCK was that?' I ask myself over and over and over again. I'm startled out of my circular train of thought and am met with what I can assume is some sort of waltz music running through the twin speakers on either side of the wall that the sound system is placed against. 

"I can't dance" I voice out, sticking to my word and answering the question before he bothered to ask. "I thought as much, ballroom dancing is a lost art amongst the youth of your generation" he says adjusting a few more things before coming back over to me. 

"You speak of my generation as if it was much younger in comparison to yours" I respond crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. "Were you perhaps curious enough to inquire about me?" he asks finally turning around to face me, making his way back over to me as he had done before, having caught me red handed leaving me changing my position, holding my hands together and having them rest against my thighs.

"I had just assumed based off of how youthful you look" I respond, giving him a forced compliment, not wanting to admit to what I had done. Well, really what Jesse had done but again he would see right through me. "Haven't we agreed to be honest with each other?" he questions reaching his hand out and easily pulling my hands apart. Placing one of mine on his shoulder and the other held in his hand, leaving his free one to rest on my waist. 

"Do as I say and hopefully we'll come out of this without any injuries" he says practically daring me to make a mistake. "But of course" I say and straighten my posture to match his and follow his lead as best as I can. 

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