#why did I leave a baking dish here?

[karenalma]

This kitty.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Home?

Ever since everyone in the Fenton family found out that Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom, there have been constant guests at Maddie and Jack's house.

...More specifically, they were visited literally every day by members of the Justice League.

Superman came in the evenings with freshly baked apple pie, the frightening silhouette of Batman appeared in the corner of the kitchen with a basket of top-quality cookies with chocolate chips in the mornings, Aquaman and Flash showed to do movie marathons on the fenton couch, Wonder Woman came to chat with Jazz and Danny over a cup of tea and Shazam always was with her to hang out with children too.

It seemed sweet, but it was not necessary. Jack and Maddie handled the situation well on their own!

~~~~~

Maddie: I'm sorry, sir, we appreciate your care and help but you and your colleagues really shouldn't come every day. You must have other things to do. Phantom may be a ghost but he was our son. Danny is..well, he was, such a good kid. I don't think it's going to hurt us.

Nightwing: I'm sorry? Mrs, with all due respect, no one was worried about your safety from the very beginning.

Red Hood *stops washing dishes*: Wing's right. Your safety was the last thing we thought about when we decided to keep an eye on Phantom. But the safety of the league's members is a constant priority. Honestly, I don't understand why Danny keeps calling this place home but it's his damn choice, and we'll be here as long as he needs us. So do not create more problems, hunters.

~~~~~

The Justice League understands that their ghost boy is ready to forgive Jack and Maddie a lot because he loves his parents. But the members of the justice League themselves are not ready to do the same. They still remember all the nightmares that kept the boy awake at night, and the wary look on his face that he still shows at every checkup in the medical bay, and tears of happiness when Batman informed him that the anti-ecto laws had finally been repealed.

~~~~~

Not all of them were mother hens like Bruce but they also couldn't help but worry when Danny either excitedly or fearfully said that his parents were waiting for him at home so he couldn't stay with them for long after school. They couldn't let the child think that he would have to confront them alone.

Of course, they did not try to send the boy's parents to prison and did not even insist on depriving them of their parental rights, but only because it would break Danny's heart. But they had read all the plans of their experiments, they had read all their hypotheses about the Phantom and therefore could not leave the boy alone with them.

So now the team had not only a Watchtower duty schedule but also a schedule of who would look after Danny at the Fenton house.

[faeriekit]

I feel like you’ll appreciate this flavor of feral brain rot as a true delicacy.

Ghostly Courting 101

1.) When you have someone you like, you politely sneak into their haunt and leave a gift that hints at your identity. If they’re interested, they’ll start hunting for you. If not, it’ll be removed without the other party feeling any societal pressure.

2.) For ghosts who died a violent or wrongful death, one of the most meaningful things you can do is avenge them. Attack their murderer, haunt their negligent doctor, etc. It’s not guaranteed to win their affection, but it’s a hell of a display.

Now, per the laws of unintended consequences, Danny finds Red Hood rearranging his freezer.

It’s 3:00 AM. He just wanted some water. Why is Gotham’s favorite son trying to leave him a fuck off huge casserole?

“Are you trying to propose or something?” Danny asks the liminal.

“Maybe???”

“Ghost weird or fruitloop weird?” Danny snatches his boo-berry ice cream and starts digging for a spoon.

Red Hood takes off his helmet to make sure Danny can see the Eyebrow of Judgment.

“Fruitloop then,” he says between bites. “We haven’t even sparred, and I sure as shit didn’t avenge you or anything.”

Oh. Oh no.

“Hood, why are you blushing?”

He couldn’t make out much from the outraged sputtering, but Danny nearly shat his fucking core out when it clicked.

“Is this about Joker???”

Danny was gonna take the stuttering as a yes.

Cool, cool, cool. He was calm. He was so fucking normal, it was fine, it was fine, it was—

Ancients take him, Danny beat the shit out of this guy’s murderer or something. He basically did a fucking flash mob proposal!

“Why the fuck am I even here?!” Red Hood screamed.

And the other guy’s fucking clueless!

I see, I see.

1: Which casserole. This is important. What casserole could the hindbrain of Jason Peter Todd's ghost instincts think is marriage material?? Is this like a comfort food can-of-cream-of-mushroom based casserole dish or like one of those newfangled sushi bake type things?? What did Jason whip out to prove he's marriage material??

2: What does JASON think is going on?? Did he hunt Danny down?? Did he just wake up in a stranger's apartment with a casserole in his hand?? Did he go to the grocery store with a list in mind or did he get home and realize he (for some reason) had every ingredient to make tuna casserole??

3: Wait. So does this mean that Jason thinks that casseroles are a good enough hint at his identity??? Does some part of Jason think that his most essential and core part of his identity is his tendency towards caretaking?? YO—

4: It's in a vintage pyrex. Look me in the eyes. This is not just Pyrex it's gotta be the old style pyrex that doesn't shatter in the oven without a pan underneath it. I am a connoisseur of white people culture and this is deeply important to me. It could even be one of the patterned ones. This is part of the gesture.

5: Danny is emotionally moved and it sucks considering that this was a complete accident

6: Jason is emotionally moved and has no idea what the fuck is going on. He wakes up at his safehouse one morning with bridal magazines in his hands which he apparently bought himself?? He's going insane. Is he cursed?? Did that twink who kicked the Joker's ass curse him??????? Curse him into...matrimony???????????????????

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Burnt Cookies

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive

You guys thank you for 1.4k of you omg, thank you so much <3

Being a girl is hard in general, and especially when it's that time of the month when every little thing throws you off your feet and makes you cry.

Like for example now when you very enthusiastically started baking the simplest chocolate cookies only to end up in tears because your attention was distracted by the washing machine that was just finished, which made you forget to take the cookies out of the oven in time.

Of course they burned.

When you took them out they looked like little pieces of coal. Since you just happened to be on your period, the failed cookie attempt hit you harder than it would have otherwise.

You normally don't like cooking or baking or any similar culinary activities because you're simply not good at it, no matter how hard you tried to fix it, in the end you simply accepted the fact that it's not for you.

But every now and then you force yourself to cook something and Lando, like the best boyfriend ever, compliments every dish you make, even though you know he's probably lying, but it's cute how he pretends.

It was the same this time when he came home from the practice and found you crying in the kitchen over those damn cookies.

“Y/n? What happened?” He asked approaching you with a worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He cupped your face wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Because I'm such a failure at cooking. I can't believe that I can't even make some simple stupid cookies.” You cried, and Lando breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the reason for your sobs.

“Baby..” He chuckled shaking his head and making you look up at him. “It’s that time of the month isn’t it?” He knew you weren’t a crybaby normally and that there must have been some other reason why this made you so sad.

“It is, but that’s not important now” You continued crying.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Come here, baby. I understand.” He cooed you pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss on top of your head. “I'm sure they’re somewhat edible”

“Oh please, don’t you see them? They look like coal!”

“Here, let me try one” He said letting go of you and bringing the cookies closer to him.

“Lando, please don’t eat that”

“See? It’s not even that bad” He pretended, trying to chew on a piece of the cookie squinting his eyes at the terrible taste that it was leaving in his mouth.

You couldn't help but start laughing putting your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips.

What guy does this and how did you get so lucky, you wondered. He would literally do anything just to make you happy and to see you smile, and you couldn't be more grateful for him.

“You really love me, don’t you?” You asked looking into his eyes and caressing his cheek.

“More than you can possibly imagine” He smiled.

“I really wanted to do something nice for you” You sighed. “You do nice things for me all the time.”

“Don’t worry about that, baby.” He said pressing his lips against yours. “Besides, if you want, you can do other things for me that I will gladly appreciate” He smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm” He murmured running his tongue over your bottom lip and deepening the kiss.

“Things like..?”

“Let me show you” He whispered taking your hand in his and leading it to the zipper of his pants.

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! Here's a drabble I wrote as a warm up, not my best work but it's short And it was written at three am, Enjoy!

The radio man's Wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings:

Human Alastor, murder, Not much Alastor in here but he's here, victim blaming the dead people

You could ask anyone who had met her and they would tell you that The local radio host's wife was the sweetest person they had ever met, a real angel on earth, she'd help out her neighbors, delivering fresh baked goods to those in need, she'd help take care of the neighborhood kids while their parents got away for a night,

She was a saint, who was to know that she had married a monster? She was just another unwilling victim right?

After all,

She was just so kind!

but even those who appear kind could do the cruelest of things, sweet words secretly drenched in venom, dressed in soft unsuspecting colors, her eyes that held nothing but fondness for the person she married and distain for those who stood against him, for those who ran his name through the mud.

She'd gleefully turn a blind eye to the wicked acts he did, being nothing but a bystander, at most she threw a few sickly sweet words to the victims that left them feeling sick to the pits of their stomaches before they perished.

She'd clean up any remaining mess he left behind, making any leftover carnage into fertilizer for her beautiful garden, mopping up the blood stained floors, or digging up a deep grave in the nearby woods for him to drag a body or two into.

She willingly laid next to someone who had countless people's blood on his hands, she'd give nothing but a love-filled smile at him,

She'd dance with a repeat murderer while soft jazz played on the radio each night after dinner, after the dishes were done and dried He'd take her hand and they'd dance.

She'd give a small kiss on the cheek, telling him to stay safe and leave him to his business slaughtering folks.

After all they deserved it right? They weren't truly good folks, Her and her dear Alastor believed ? that wholeheartedly, and Honestly it's their own fault for being easy targets

Right?

No one would believe you if you told them beforehand that the charming radio host, Alastor was a cold blooded murderer who had claimed multiple lives,

After all he was so charming, always with that smile on his face that could make anyone swoon, although you could never exactly know what he was thinking, people adored his voice and his radioshow where he'd play the tunes of the time, and briefly speak about the recent disappearances of people, telling everyone to stay safe.

It's truly the charming ones you should look out for.

It was only revealed when someone hunting in the dead of night mistook her dearest Alastor for a deer, shooting him swiftly through the head, killing him almost instantly, leaving him to be bitten and torn by man's best friend.

The phonecall she got when it was discovered was heart wrenching,

Her beloved Radio host went from charming to his name being thrown around, treated like a monster, [Which he was, he killed people] his office was cleaned out swiftly after being searched for anything alluding to his crimes, the home they shared was searched and torn apart for evidence as she sobbed into the arms of a supportive, unsuspecting neighbor,

After everything went down she was either scorned or deemed a unfortunate lady who unknowingly married a murderous monster, she had parts of the community that took pity bring around casseroles and give her words of comfort.

It couldn't have been more then a year since Alastor had gone, a family member of one of his victims wanted revenge, however since the murderer was already six feet under, why not go for his widow?

In the dead of night carrying a gun he crept into the home she once shared with her beloved, he moved passed the picture frames on the walls, from events, Their wedding photos and pictures of family, all were hung up neatly.

He opened the door, a creaking noise rung out throughout the house,

He moved forward towards the bed where the widow laid, deep in a slumber she'd never wake up from,

The man lifted up the gun and shot her right in the heart, She didn't know what hit her.

Arising from the ground she brushed herself off, the sight of brimstone and the harsh smell of sulfur filled her nose,

She didn't know what killed her, maybe a heart attack? Perhaps she choked on something in her sleep? Well there was no use in wondering, what's done is done, and from the looks of it she definitely ended up in hell, wasn't surprising after all she did help out her husband in his crimes.

With a quick look at herself, she made a face at the animal ears that protruded from her head, along with the matching tail on her back, shaking her head she began walking around to explore the place.

She supposed it was time to go find her dearly departed darling now wasn't it?

Good evening folks! Thank you for reading!

I'm making my way through requests and a couple of them will hopefully be out within the week! Stay tuned!

[kalliyen]

Streamer Luck 🍀

Pairing: Wanderer x GN!Reader

Featuring: Wanderer (Genshin Impact)

Genre: Fluff, Modern AU

Summary: Streamer Wander drabbles lmao enjoy <33

Reader’s Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: wanderer (just brace yourself) bro is actually astronomically down bad, sorry id there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes i am delirious rn

Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!

i. ‘wym you’re not single and rotting in a basement?’

Wanderer has been playing for hours on end, you could barely keep up with it.

He hasn’t come out of his room for hours and you were starting to get worried about his appetite, and his emotional well being.

Because you were such a good and doting partner, you decided to make Wanderer’s fave dish, and deliver it to his room.

Knocking on his door, he lets out a brief hum, signaling that it was good to come in. Careful not to get to close to the camera, not wanting to reveal yourself to his audience just yet.

Chat noticed the presence of another person in the room, and immediately bombarding Wanderer with questions like “who tf is that???” and “where did they spawn from???”

“Darling you’ve been streaming for 6 hours, take a break and eat first okay? Just call me when you need anything else.” You state, trying to resist giving him a peck on the lips.

Your boyfriend pauses his game, looks at you, then chat, and decides to pull your waist to his level to give you not one peck, but multiple.

Taken aback but not at all surprised from your boyfriend’s sudden show of affection, you lean into the kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

Chat absolutely EXPLODES when they saw that, but Wanderer did not give two shits, and decided to kiss your hand, while deeply looking into your eyes

“Thanks Honey, I’ll take a break and eat this, thank you so much for looking out for me :)”

“No problem darl, just come out when I call you for dinner okay?” “Yes honey” And with that you leave the room, leaving Wanderer with him and his chat

He scans the messages, multiple times he sees “SO DOWN BAD LMAOO” and “did u kidnap them or something to take are of you”

A little irked at chat, he angrily replies “No I am NOT down bad (he is) and NO I did not kidnap them. They’re my partner. Why is that so hard to believe?”

ii. honey face reveal when?

Ever since you’ve made your existence known to Wanderer’s fan base they’ve been calling you Honey, mostly mocking him about the nickname he has for you. (they do find it cute tho fr)

They tell him to bring you into the stream more, saying that they missed your voice and your sweet personality, honestly they don’t give a fuck about him no more they just wanna see you

Wanderer gets annoyed (again, this man is always mad at his chat somehow), and says that he can’t force you to show yourself to them, which his chat respects.

“Also their sweetness and cuteness is for me only, not my fault that you guys are lonely and don’t have a partner. Imagine that, what a massive L” he says to his chat, and they start arguing with him again. (someone save his fan base)

iii. HONEY REVEALLL !!!!!

Seeing that your boyfriend’s fans really liked you, you decided to tell Wanderer that you’re finally comfortable with sharing your face to the internet, which he was really happy with. Because god he really wanted to show of the love of his life to the world, and smash it in their faces that only he could have you.

You suggest to him that you do a cute little baking stream together as your face reveal, and he couldn’t deny the adorable smile on your face while suggesting it to him, so of course he obliged.

While he was setting up the cameras and you were setting up the ingredients you felt really nervous, thoughts of ‘what if they don’t like me?’ plagued your mind, and Wanderer sensed your uneasy demeanor. He came up to you and gave you a kiss that meant ‘don’t be nervous honey, i’ll always be here for you.’

He turns the stream on and immediately people start to come in, surprised at the change of scenery.

‘Wanderer doesn’t live in his basement confirmed?!?!’ a TTS message read, and he gave the camera a glare

Chat immediately noticed you and started chanting “HONEY!” “OH MY GOD ITS HONEY FINALLY”

You gave a meek wave to the camera, still a bit nervous, but with Wanderer’s hand on your waist you knew you had nothing to worry about.

“Hello everyone,,,,I’m y/n, you probably know me as ‘honey’ and i’m…..wanderer’s partner” you say with small smile on your face, eyes turning into small slits

In conclusion, the stream was a success and chat was absolutely smitten with you.

bonus: iv. Honey takes over the channel 😱

Now that you’ve gotten more comfortable showing yourself on stream, you sometimes played games with Wanderer too, like co-op in this game called Genshin or other games that allowed two person players.

Sometimes, you even started streams yourself whenever you wanted to share something to his audience, or get advice from them when you start a new game.

Wanderer of course sees these streams and he just has the lovey dovey-est smile in the world, you swear you saw his eyes turn into hearts.

Damn, his streamer luck is insane.

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan thinks that having you as his roommate is possibly one of the best and worst things that’s happened to him.

you are, by far, the best roommate he’s ever had. you’re clean. not too loud. you don’t disturb him when he’s sleeping, you don’t take food from the fridge that’s clearly his and you never leave your dishes in the sink.

coming from sharing with soonyoung, seungkwan and seokmin, jeonghan doesn’t think his living situation could get any better.

or at least, he didn’t. now he’s starting to realise he has a problem, and that problem is his teensy tiny crush on you.

because not only are you clean and hygienic, you’re also nice. incredibly nice — and incredibly gorgeous, and jeonghan really doesn’t think it’s fair that you tick all three boxes so easily. and yeah, maybe it’s not the biggest crush, but it certainly doesn’t help when you go around doing stupidly endearing things, like tripping over the rug that’s been there since you moved in, or dancing when you’re cooking dinner.

or baking at odd hours of the evening — because when he gets home at nearing midnight after hanging out at joshua’s house, he can hear you clattering around the kitchen from the doorway. you don’t see him when he first enters the room, eyes fixated on the measuring scale in front of you, as you pour brown sugar into a bowl.

“what are you doing?”

you jump when you hear his voice, somehow knocking a wooden spoon to the ground with your elbow as you yelp. “when did you get here?”

“just now.” jeonghan leans against the doorway with narrowed eyes. “do you know what time it is?”

“i’m — i’m stress-baking,” you enunciate, with heavy, deliberate emphasis. “it’s relieving my stress.”

jeonghan directs a dubious glance around the kitchen. there’s a pile of flour on the counter that should definitely be in some sort of packet; chocolate chips are sprinkled across the surface; there are at least seven different dirty bowls in the sink. “is it?”

you let out a deflated sigh, rubbing at your nose and leaving an adorable smudge of flour on the top. sourly, you admit —“no.”

jeonghan pushes off the doorframe, helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips before you can bat away his hand with the wooden spoon. “so, darling roommate of mine,” he begins, lifting himself onto the few clean inches of the surface. “why are we stress baking at such an hour?”

your nose wrinkles, and you avoid his gaze with admirable intensity. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

jeonghan prides himself on knowing when to push and when not to push. he can tell, even after knowing you for only a matter of months, that you’re not ready to talk about it yet. this exact scenario, late-night, stress-fuelled baking, has happened a few times before. and, right on schedule —

“you should go to bed,” you say after a moment. but your voice wavers ever so slightly, and jeonghan knows that even though you’d never ask, you don’t want to be alone right now.

“what, so you can stress yourself out all alone?” he asks lightly. “not a chance.”

so he sits there and talks to you as you finish up your cookies, stealing chocolate chips and laughing when you scowl at him, and then offering them to you at the last second. he puts them in the oven for you because somehow, despite your nocturnal hobbies, you’re yet to invest in oven mitts, and he doesn’t want you to get burnt.

sometimes, jeonghan considers telling you how he feels. sometimes, like now, when it’s late at night and his logical thinking is dulled, and you’re laughing at all his jokes, even the stupid ones, and everything feels so indescribably right — jeonghan feels like he’s spilling over. he feels like sometimes there’s a light in your eyes when you look at him, smile with him, that makes him think that reciprocation is more than a possibility — it’s a probability.

but he won’t. he knows he won’t, not yet. maybe one day, maybe sooner than he thinks, but not yet. for now, he just slips off the counter to dry the dishes when you wash them. to flick soap at your eyes and blow bubbles with you and connect his phone to the bluetooth speaker and coax you into dancing with him in the middle of the kitchen until your brows are no longer furrowed and your smile feels fuller than it was when he walked in. until the cookies are done, golden-brown and warm and sweet, just how he feels on nights like this.

edit: if you’d like to read a sequel to this couple, in my head this drabble is about them getting together :)

an / i don’t have anything to say. hi guys

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[bonny-kookoo]

More someone older smut drabble pls

When he wakes up, he feels somewhat.. anxious?

He slowly sits up in his bed to look around, checking the digital clock next to his bed on the small table twice just to make sure that he's truly not asleep anymore. Because this- just doesn't feel quite real.

There's faint music playing in his home, outside the bedroom. The smell of something cooking fills the room as well, dishes clattering a bit in the sink in the kitchen. He knows it must be you- he's aware that you're staying with him after all. But still.

This feels too much like his mind making things up.

The bedroom door opens slowly, your head poking in, before you realize he's awake. "Oh, you're up." You say, entering more openly now. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why did you get up without me?" He wonders, feet meeting the floor as he's moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making you giggle as you sit down on the bed on your knees.

"Cause.. I wasn't tired anymore." You shrug, reaching out to somewhat tame his slightly wild bedhead. "And I thought you might appreciate breakfast?"

"I do appreciate that." He smiles, before he catches you off guard by tugging on your arm and making you lay down, before he positions himself over you. "But you could've also woken me up." He chuckles before pecking your lips once.

"But you were sleeping so tight." You say. "Looked like you were dreaming."

"Hm.. I was." He agrees, kisses moving to your neck. "Of you."

"Oh?" You wonder, stretching your arms above your head for a second. "What were you dreaming of?" You ask.

"Things I'd love to make a reality one day." He purrs against your skin, before he releases you again. 'I'll shower real quick, alright?" He tells you, before he pecks your lips once more and leaves into the bathroom to shower-

And you're honestly not sure what makes you feel so bold.

Maybe it's that feeling of safety you have with him, this odd sense of security here in his home, as if nothing can really harm you in here. So when you move to enter the bathroom as well, shower already running with him inside, you don't feel any sort of hesitation as you shed your clothes and join him beneath the warm water.

It's a sight that easily makes him stir alive, remnants of his dream revived as he watches the water pearl down your skin. The way you easily touch and kiss him is making his head spin, making him forget about your past hesitation in its entirety.

This is how it's supposed to be. Easy, simple. No worries about what might be the best thing to do.

Just existing.

Your hand on him makes him gasp into your mouth, a sound you eagerly swallow, his back hitting the tiled wall of the shower. He manages to turn the steady stream of water up ahead a bit lower as you fall to your knees, the anti slip mat on the shower floor cushioning them quite a bit as you work on him.

It's now what his dream was about- but he's sure he could never come up with a scene as serene as this anyways, imagination not advanced enough to even think of this potentially happening.

Just like back at your place before, this time once more he's a slave to your actions. It's causing his mind to go blank at the way your tongue runs over the head of his cock, beckoning him further and further towards his release. And then your hands join in to hold and touch what you can't fit, effortlessly making the muscles in his thighs spasm as he spills inside your mouth with his head thrown back against the tiles of the shower, a hand in your hair.

He can't let this stand.

And he doesnt- returning the favor shamelessly so with both his hands and mouth, eagerly devouring you as his first breakfast before he later on sits at the table in the kitchen to eat his actual one, conversation innocent enough to mask over the things that went down not even long enough ago to dry your hair fully.

If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. If all the Christmas decor and your words about baking later are lies, he doesn't want to hear the truth.

He wants to stay like this-

And he'll do anything to make it work.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: another week...

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside. 

As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk. 

Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?” 

You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.” 

“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is. 

“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head. 

“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.  

“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.” 

“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.” 

“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.” 

“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.” 

“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges. 

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.” 

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.” 

“We all gotta start somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.” 

“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes. 

You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it. 

Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying. 

🃏

You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat. 

Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss. 

“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

You shrug, to fraught to answer. 

“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.” 

“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.” 

“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.” 

“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.” 

“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--” 

“No, I owe you.” 

“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.” 

“Sure,” you accept grimly. 

She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off. 

You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.  

You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over. 

‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’ 

You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit. 

‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’ 

You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night. 

Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.

Oh no. He’s calling! 

You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say? 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.” 

“No, er, we’re done.” 

“Ah, and are you alone?” 

You frown, “yes?” 

“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.” 

You gulp. You don’t know what to say. 

“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle. 

“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question. 

“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders. 

“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.” 

“Early night, huh?” He asks. 

“I guess, I was going to watch a show.” 

“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?” 

“Not... yet,” you croak. 

“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.” 

“You... did?” 

“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.” 

“Uh, oh...” you stutter out. 

“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.” 

“A favour?” You echo thinly. 

“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes. 

“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall. 

“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.” 

“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?! 

“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.” 

“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...” 

You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind. 

The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day. 

You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.” 

You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer. 

You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one. 

“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow. 

You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?” 

“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.” 

“No,” you burst out without thinking. 

“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.” 

“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.” 

You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game. 

“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end. 

More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation. 

“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp. 

Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious. 

“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.” 

“I...” 

“You like what you see?” He asks coyly. 

You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you? 

“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.” 

“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says. 

You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it! 

It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver. 

“I should... sleep.” 

“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.” 

You giggle nervously, “really?” 

“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?” 

You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...” 

He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.” 

“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges. 

“I don’t... know.” 

“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?” 

“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.” 

“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show. 

[fraugwinska]

Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’ 

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable. 

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat. 

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

[gyusrose]

➵ 5-star michelin -> p.js

⚠︎ smut (mdni) , sprinkle of angst

✎ teacher!jay x student, slight age gap (25 & 23), jay is kinda mean, dom!jay + sub!reader, jealous!jay, praising, dirty talk

summary: achieving your dream of becoming a chef is not easy, even worse when your teacher’s always up your ass.

{btw! i don’t cook like at all so bear with me 🙏}

(non!idol jay x fem.reader)

~ late christmas + new year’s gift *ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 4.2k

you love the kitchen, you pretty much live there day and night. it’s no surprise to anyone that your dream job is eventually becoming a real chef. that’s why you’ve spent almost your whole life perfecting the one skill you’re good at. most of the recipes you use come from your mom. before she passed she left a whole book of recipes in it and what a hell of a good time you had with it.

it helped you cope, that’s what drove it. you feel sad? make something yummy. you feel mad? bake something nice. you feel happy? cool something delicious. your problems seemed to fade away while your cooking.

over the last year, you’ve started attending culinary school. obviously, you’re not perfect and you still need some work on your dishes but you’re not doing too bad to say the least. now though, it’s a new chapter opening for you.

you’ve been wanting to get out of your hometown for a while and move to the city as there were more opportunities down here and to your luck, you got accepted into a (very prestigious) culinary school nearby your apartment, a win-win situation.

like anyone, you were scared, scared to make new friends, scared to meet new people, scared to start from zero, a new place, a new routine. but it’s all for the better.

you sighed as you tied your apron around your waist, almost heading out the door to your first day of school. boxes were still unpacked all around your floor, it was a total mess, you literally slept on the floor last night. it was definitely not the best case scenario for a great morning but eh.

you finally caught your breath trying to calm down grabbing your tote bag and leaving your messy apartment.

the school was no more than five minutes away walking. at least you’re gonna be on time.

your entered the glass doors of the huge white building. the receptionist noticed you, you quickly showed her your ID, which they gave you during your orientation last week. she gave you a nod and you headed into the elevator, pressing the number 13.

your hands were shaking and sweaty. coming into a new school in the middle of the year has got to be the worst scenario for an introvert like you. you finally reached the room where the class will be taking place ( i genuinely don’t know what culinary school is like pls) as soon as you stepped in, all eyes were on you. including the head chef’s.

“you must be the new student right? happy first day you’re late.” one of them spoke, your cheeks couldn’t have become any redder than what they already were. you hated all the attention on you.

late? didn’t class start at 7:30? you thought.

“class started fifteen minutes ago, take a seat and catch up.” almost like he could read your mind he responded.

you muttered a low ‘sorry’ before heading onto an empty seat trying to take as much attention away from you. of course his happens to you.

you gathered all the ingredients you were told to get and set them on the table in front of you. mimicking what the other students were doing. as you weee doing that the chef came up to your side, an evident scowl noticed on his face.

it was until then you realized how handsome he was, he looked very young as well, not someone that you would expect to be a head chef. his jawline was sharper than the knife on your hand. you shook those thoughts away quickly though, he’s your teacher! what are you thinking?

“i’m just letting you know, whatever you did today can’t happen anymore, attendance is very important everyday, this is a very advanced class so you might not want to be missing any of it, got it?” even though he whispered, it felt like he was yelling at you. it was very aggressive and harsh making you flinch.

you quickly nodded, now scared of him even more. suddenly you want to change classes with another chef. finally leaving you let out a big sigh which you were holding in ever since he came over, and resumed cutting your vegetables and stir frying them.

“you need more seasoning on that, it’s too bland!” the chef, which you now you know as ‘Chef Park’ said as he tasted your chicken. you were almost sweating, from the way he speaks and acts, you felt nothing but intimidated by his presence, even more when he’s tasting your first dish for him. throughout the whole lesson today, he seemed to be only picking at you, he didn’t taste any of the other student’s food, only yours. you found it kind of irritating but tried not to think much about it.

“i’ll definitely note that chef.” you smiled at him bowing.

“ i’m expecting a lot from you, ______” he said before heading back to his space.

you were confused. why you? you’re probably the least talented person in this room right now so why you? you had so many questions but decided that maybe you just needed a good nights rest and starting packing up your stuff on your bag.

jay sighed at the empty room in front of him. it was currently 1 am, and he couldn’t find the urge to go home. he was just thinking, thinking about you.

he was the one that read your application into the school, he read your recommendation letters from your past teachers. you were put into his advanced class for a reason.

what he didn’t expect was the glory of a woman that was going to get in that door. it was as if the universe slapped his type right in front of him. that’s what he saw. how could someone look so beautiful in such a simple uniform? he also wonders that.

he can’t let down his demeanor though. yes he finds you attractive, but he can’t soften up just for you, that’s unfair to the rest of the students that have to put up with him. plus he hasn’t forgotten that he’s the teacher and you’re a student, it’s unethical for him to even be thinking of you in that way.

it’s been approximately a month since you’ve started going to this new school and to be honest, it was eating you up. chef park kept nit-picking everything you did, which honestly is what’s. teacher should do but not to that extent. you saw the way he was always looking your way when you were cooking. how he would yell at you across the room when you did something wrong ( even if other people were also doing it) it’s driving you insane to the point that you’re about to actually request for a change of teacher.

you were struggling to cook the steak to chef park’s desired temperature when you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned your head around to see a boy. if you’re not mistaken his name is jake.

“i see you’re kind of struggling with that, there’s a trick i do that always manages to cook the steak to chef’s park liking. may i?” he asked if he could touch the knobs of your stove. you nodded and he turned the heat to the maximum for a few seconds, turning the steak over on both sides while bathing it in butter , then he turned it to low heat, repeating the same action.

jay obviously noticed this and did not appreciate it. he should be happy seeing another student sharing tips with you but that wasn’t the case this time. without thinking he walked over the two of your laughing figures.

“sim! it’s very inappropriate of you to be talking with your little friend when you should be cooking..”

“oh sorry chef park. i was just giving her a hand. i thought you wouldn’t mind.”

you looked at chef park, noticing his glaring eyes on jake. is it that bad for a student to help another student out?

“well i do! back to your place.” he said not sparing you a glance while jake decided to not respond back and just gave you an apologetic smile before heading off.

“alright everyone, that would be it for today, but don’t forget that by the end of the semester you’re gonna have to cook something of your own, impress me okay? “

as students left you decided to have a word with the chef, wanting to know if he just truly just didn’t like you or if he had a problem with you being here, so you could change chefs.

there was another girl talking to him before you. he acted so different with her, so respectful, kind and smiley. his face sours up every time he’s talking with you, so you barely see him smile and you almost melted at it.

“is there a problem miss ______?”

you jumped out of your other world and looked at him. suddenly feeling shy. you felt your confidence slip away as he was now looking straight at you, waiting for you to speak.

“ well-uh i’ve been noticing how harsh you’re on me compared to the other students, did i do something to cause that?”

jay was taken aback from your straightforwardness, but he responded either way.

“ you just need more toughness out on you _____, do you want to be mediocre?” he was lying through his teeth. jay knew you were if anything, the best of the class, he couldn’t just say that out loud.

you on the other hand, were crushed. was mediocre all he saw in you? have you been lied to by your other teachers?

“ is the yelling necessary though ? there’s way to effectively communicate without yelling.” you hated being yelled at. every time someone raised their voice at you, tears would just fall like a waterfall. thankfully, you’ve managed to hold in your tears during class so chef hasn’t seen you cry.

“are you questioning my teaching skills now? “

shit. now you offended him.

“n-no that’s not what i meant, i just-“

“you don’t think i’m a good teacher ?” he said getting up closer to you, pretty much standing inches in front of you. suddenly you felt your heartbeat fasten.

“i d-do chef, i just kind of find it unfair?” you said, trying to not stutter all your words.

jay smirked, now standing less than a feet in front of you, grabbing your chin and holding it up, making you look straight at him. jay could definitely see your rosy cheeks that you were so embarrassedly trying to hide.

“am i making you nervous miss _____?” you only gulped, you didn’t even know what to respond to that, even though it was bluntly obvious based on your state right now.

the both of you didn’t say anything for a moment, the two just stared at each other, waiting for one to make a move first.

you don’t know exactly where you got the guts to actually make the move. you engulfed your chef into a suffocating kiss. the kiss itself was enough to show how much y’all were yearning for each other. jay was dying to do this ever since he laid his eyes on you, but you on the other hand, didn’t know how much you actually wanted to do this until now. sure you found him handsome and smart and literally perfect but you never expected for him to think of you the same way to the point we’re he’s actually kissing you back and heating up the kiss you once started. his tongue grazed over your lip. his hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you closer, melting into his embrace. your lips tasted so sweet, jay felt insatiable.

both of you forgot about the fact that this was very much not allowed. the world ceased to exist to exist at that moment. there were no boundaries, no constraints, just the two of you.

jay’s hand traveled down further and further, now down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. the small action made you moan into his lips. even though your eyes were closed, you could feel him smirking at you.

your own hands travelled along his broad shoulders, down his shoulders. once again, confidence shot through you. your fingertips found their way to his belt buckle, about to undo it when his fingers wrapped around your wrist. stopping your movements.

“see you next class.” that’s all he said before gathering his things and leaving you there. high and dry.

that’s when you woke up. realizing what you were about to do, more like who you were about to do it with.

embarrassed. that’s what you were. he could literally lose his job what were you thinking?!

you let out a shaky sigh and left the empty room. all you need right now is a hot shower and sleep, you need to forget this ever happened. the worse thing is that tomorrow you still have to face him in class.

you knew showing up in the classroom that the two of you almost fucked in yesterday was going to be hard to show your face in. although no one noticed you, you just felt exposed. you refused to make eye contact with jay the whole time. jay definitely noticed this right away. he felt kind of bad in leaving you like that, but he knew that if he stayed there a little longer, he wouldn’t have controlled himself. he did think though, you looked kind of cute all shy and red, avoiding his eyes the whole class.

he took matters to his hands and approached you for the first time today, which was odd since he would’ve already yelled at you for something at this point.

“what are you working on miss ______?” his voice startled you, not even noticing he walked over to you.

“ just finishing the sauce for this.” you shortly said looking down at your food. jay’s stare didn’t leave your face once. and you could feel it very much. it felt hard to breathe at that moment. you have no doubt your face is boiling at his simple presence.

“ look at me when i’m speaking to you.” you didn’t want to. but he was still your teacher and the last thing you want to be is disrespectful so you looked at him. and god you wished you didn’t. those brown eyes have a world of its own. you found yourself staring at him shamelessly, forgetting he was speaking to you.

“are you even listening?” of course you weren’t yet you nodded assuringly.

“great then see you friday night.” you nodded but it took you a moments to realize what he said.

friday night? for what? this is what you get for daydreaming. embarrassingly, you asked him what he meant after you just told him you were listening to what he was saying.

jay chuckled and shook his head at your lie. “ i said if you were coming to the dinner i have set up for the class, since christmas is coming. and you responded yes, so you better be there miss ______.” he said with a smirk, palming your cheek. your eyes widened at his move. you looked around to see if anyone noticed, to your relief no one did as they were too focused on their food. “someone could’ve seen!” you whisper-shouted your chef. he just rolled his eyes and said “ just be there on friday, i have a gift for you.”

the last thing he said before walking away. you were left dumbfounded. what did any of that mean? you didn’t notice that you’ve doesn’t about 10 minutes just standing there thinking until you smelt something burning.

“your meat is overdone _____!!!” jake told you walking up to you turning the stove off.

shit.

you weren’t the one to like social events much. as a teenager, you barely went out with your friends. you were a proud nerd. always focused on school, that’s how you were thought to be, which explains how you’ve only made one friend (jake) ever since been here for months. now you’re gonna be forced to socialize for a whole evening.

you weren’t unprepared thankfully. you brought a couple of classy dresses with you, you could imagine that things like these were gonna happen. you eventually decided on a white silk dress. it was elegant yet comfortable for you. not too short or not too long as well. you decided to not do anything special with your hair and let it down.

you suddenly felt the urge to not go. the last person you want to see is your chef. you don’t see the point of going yet you kept doing your makeup, you just want to change into your pyjamas and lay in bed all night. a ding in your phone caught your attention, revealing a text message from jake.

-I’m here

it seemed like you have to go now. quickly you gathered your things and left your lot.

jay kept waiting and waiting. you was all he was waiting on. a bunch of people kept coming up and talking to him but he didn’t care. girls showed up trying to impress him, but nothing. he wanted you to come up to him, impress him.

what he didn’t expect is you coming in with some company. jake was obviously invited but not as your date, he thought. he could see his hand on your back as he said a few sorry’s for being late due to traffic. jay couldn’t focus on anything but you. what the fuck was jake saying to make you laugh so hard. was that on purpose? to see how he would react? jay couldn’t tell. it didn’t help how beautiful you looked tonight, more than usual. that fucker doesn’t get your beauty like he does.

the whole night jay kept quiet. stealing glances towards you and jake. when someone talked to him he kept his reposes dry. for a moment he could swear you stared at him.

jay didn’t miss when you stood up to go to the bathroom. he obviously took this opportunity to talk to you, if it wasn’t right now then it was never.

you left the bathroom, as a soon as you turned around, you were encaged. your breath hitched seeing who it was.

“c-chef?”

“oh please don’t act all innocent _____, i know what you’re trying to do.”

“i’m sorry..? i don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“coming in here with jake, wearing such tight dress showing off just enough to make me go crazy. do you realize how much power you have over me hm?”

you didn’t know what to respond to that. deep down you loved the way you made him feel. it was planned, at all, but it felt nice knowing how much little effort had an effect on him.

“ it’s not my fault that’s the way you think jay.” honourifics dropped. jay wasn’t expecting that response from you. the alcohol running through your blood was showing at the moment.

jay grabbed your neck and pulled you into a heated kiss. unlike your first kiss, this one was emerged in lust. both of your tongues entangled with each other. your hands rummaged through his hair pulling him closer to you.

all it took was a simple “wanna get out of here?” from jay for you to weaken in the knees, allowing your full submission to him.

“fuck jay, right ther-shit!” so much happened in the last thirty minutes, nothing could’ve prepared you to be eaten out by your teacher at that time.

you don’t even know how jay didn’t crash the car while driving to his house and completely stripping you in seconds. he ate your pussy like he’s been starving for months (which he was) your eyes rolled back, pulling his hair, engulfing him into you, wrapping your legs around his neck. jay was in fucking bliss.

“shit baby, you’re such a mess, so fucking sensitive.” he said pulling away from your cunt, earning a whine from you.

“such a desperate little brat. tell me, what do you want baby.” he said caressing your lips. you couldn’t stop biting them. from your angle, you could see everything of him. his sharp eyes staring down at you, his biceps, his chest, his abs, fuck you could cum right there.

“fuck me jay, i want you to use me.” unlike other instances, you didn’t break eye contact making him moan before grabbing your thighs and spreading them around his pelvis. your core was dying for his cock, it was noticible from how swollen it was.

jay rubbed his head along your folds before looking up at you for reassurance. you nodded, desperate written all over your face.

the first thrust in you was insane. the stretch felt like he was ripping up your insides. it was painful, a good type of pain. “fuck you’re so fucking big jay.” jay only groaned. he couldn’t even say anything, this was better than anything he could ever imagine.

once he was fully in he started to move in and out of your core, grabbing your waist, feeling himself in you. the crude sounds coming out of the both of you echoed throughout the house. jay’s hands played with your tits while you grabbed his waist, making sure he stays inside you as much possible.

“shit you’re so tight, that’s pussy’s all mine ain’t it?” his hand left your tits and started rubbing your clit while his thrusts turned very hostile you couldn’t even form words from the immense amount of pleasure.

“yes yes, it’s all your baby.”

jay didn’t think it could get better than this, but it did.

he flipped you over, now on all-fours, back arched. not wasting any time in fucking you from behind. he groped your ass, leaving his hand marks all over them.

you were about to explode when a ring could be heard, more specifically from your phone. you looked over it on the night stand seeing ‘jake’ displayed on the screen. shit you completely forgot that you just left him at the restaurant. you could call him back lat-

“answer it.” jay said from behind you sternly, fucking you even deeper.

“i don’t think i ca-“

“answer the fucking phone, it must be important.” as much as he didn’t like jake, it turned him on the way you could barely breath let alone speak while he’s fucking you restlessly.

you could barely talk but you managed to grab the phone and answer it, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“ sorry jake, i just wasn’t-hmp feeling well.” your hand went over your mouth to stop you from moaning into the phone. jay was just laughing in the background at your state right now.

“yea yea i-i’m so sorry, have f-fun though.” you nodded at his last sentence before hanging up and glaring at jay from behind you.

“fuck you!” you said then slamming your head into the pillow letting out muffled moans.

“i’m quite literally doing that baby.” you rolled your eyes in pleasure and annoyance. your orgasm was very close, even jay could feel the way you clench around him.

“fuck i’m cumming, so fucking close.” your weak voice said .

jay was on the same boat, he would’ve cum way earlier but it just felt so damn good, he wanted to treasure every moment.

“me too baby, c’mon cum all over my dick, do it baby.” that’s exactly what you did. your body twitched at the sudden feeling. your body going limp.

jay was also on edge, with a few more thrust he pulled out of you and came all over your back moaning in the process.

after the two of you balanced your breathing, jay laid next to you caressing your hair, the both of you were just giggling like little kids.

“so this was the gift you were talking about?”

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 7

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: So I don't know why it takes me exactly seven chapters to get to the smut, but so far that's three different series where that's happened. 😂 (Never Say Goodbye, Break Me Down, and now Smoke Eater. Go figure! 🤷🏽‍♀️)

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! For smutty smut and baking shenanigans, tinge of angst.

Part 7: “Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle”

You liked Dean’s apartment. It was on the second floor out of three, and a modest, clean, comfortable space.

Though overall it felt very “dude bro” in décor. You supposed that made sense, considering it was just Sam and Dean living here.

And while you still hadn’t met Sam (he was working late tonight), it gave you a chance to do something you’d been very much looking forward to doing with Dean… 

“Not for nothin’, this is probably one in three of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth,” said Dean.

True to his word, his mouth was full. You giggled as a flake of pasta spewed from his mouth.

“Oh really? Makes me curious about the other two,” you said mischievously. And you handed him a napkin to blot his face.

You sat across from him in the small dining room adjacent to the kitchen. The table itself was barely big enough to fit in the space, feeling more like a nook than a room, but it sat three people. That was usually enough for Sam and Dean, and occasionally Eileen when she came over.

Dean chuckled, his brows dancing. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out.”

Your face warmed at that, despite your amusement. You had made dinner, for which Dean had been more than enthusiastic.

“You mean I get an actual chef making me food? Sign me the hell up,” he’d teased.

Never mind that you weren’t an actual chef. You had focused on patisserie in culinary school. He didn’t seem to mind though, as he’d devoured two servings of salmon and fettucine alfredo, even down to the steamed broccoli. You had to admit, it warmed you inside to see him enjoy your food.

You’d promised to cook for him last week, and he hadn’t let it go until both your schedules opened up enough for you to come over.

He now hummed in satisfaction as he finished off the last bite on his plate and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

“Thanks for this, sweetheart. I needa have you around here more often,” he said, tossing you a grin.

You smiled back. “It’s my pleasure.”

It wasn’t the first time Dean had invited you over to his apartment, but for the life of you, you didn’t know why it had taken you so long to accept.

…Well, okay, you did know why. You were reluctant to leave your grandfather alone, potentially all night. But George had been adamant about you going out for as long as you wanted, on the promise that he’d check in every few hours until he went to bed.

“Okay, ready for dessert?” you asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. He still thought about those cookies you brought to the firehouse, almost a month ago already.

Damn, has it really been that long? he thought as he helped you collect the dishes from dinner. He followed you into the kitchen, where you already knew the lay of his land.

Sam couldn’t cook for shit, so it usually fell on Dean to be the figure of culinary expertise. But he had no problem making way for you, especially if you were going to look over your shoulder and wink at him like that.

“Good, because you’re going to help me,” you informed him.

Dean’s smile grew. “All right…what did you have in mind?”

While he started on the dishes in the sink, you hauled out even more ingredients from a big grocery bag you’d brought and stored in the refrigerator. He watched you out of the corner of his eye and spotted lemons, among other things.

“Lemon drizzle cake,” you replied. “One of my grandma’s recipes. I just need a mixing bowl and a cake tin.”

“Good, because we’re not very Betty Crocker in this place. Let’s just say my kitchen tools are limited,” he said, raising a brow at you. “You know, if you wanted to bake, I’m sure you’ve got all the proper bells and whistles at your house. We could’ve done this over there.”

You paused to consider the question he wasn’t quite asking, because he had a point. You could’ve invited him over your house instead. You joined him near the sink and leaned against the counter, tapping your nails on the tile surface.

“Well, as you know, I live with my grandpa,” you said.

“Good ol’ George,” Dean grinned. “That guy’s hilarious. Like the fourth Stooge.”

He particularly liked the story you’d told him about the time George had bought you your first makeup palette when you turned fifteen, but hadn’t told you it was face paint…the kind that clowns used.

“And I’d love for you two to get to know each other better. Don’t get me wrong. But barring the fact that we probably wouldn’t have much…privacy,” you pointed out with a subtle smile, trying to ignore Dean’s resulting smirk. Never mind that you two hadn’t needed “privacy” just yet.

“I guess I’m just not used to inviting people over. I’ve been trying to limit the exposure to germs in the house,” you admitted. At Dean’s quizzical look, you had to explain.

“My grandfather had cancer last year,” you said. “He had surgery to remove the mass, and did well, considering his age. He’s in remission now…but I’m still looking after him.”

You’d gone with him to see his primary doctor a couple of weeks ago for that persistent cough. While the doctor seemed to think it was George’s asthma acting up, you’d still scheduled an appointment with his oncologist.

And while your thoughts led you down an all-too familiar path, Dean processed this with a nod of his head. He shut off the sink. After drying his hands, he looked over at you and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m glad he’s doing better now,” he said. His brows furrowed. “And your grandma passed just a few years before that?”

You nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s been a long few years.”

So, Dean took an inventory in his mind as he rested a comforting hand on your back. You took care of your family. You could cook. You were beautiful. And still, you kicked ass at your job and seemed to have the rest of your shit together.

He had to admit. The more he learned about you, the more he liked you.

“Anyway,” you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry. Ready to bake?”

Dean’s lips quirked as he followed you to the other side of the kitchen. He stepped behind you and letting his hands fall to your waist. His lips skimmed the side of your head, pressing a kiss there.

“Okay, Rachael Ray,” he teased. “Teach me your ways.”

You were trying to measure out some sugar in the bowl first, but you giggled with a warm blush as he kissed his way down your neck.

“Are you actually going to help, or are you just going to distract me?” you volleyed back.

Dean hummed against the crook of your neck. “Can’t I do both?”

You picked up and egg and raised it level with his face.

“Hmm, should I try cracking this against your forehead?” you pondered.

His teeth playfully nipped your skin in retaliation, making you flinch with a yelp. The egg actually cracked in your hand.

“Shit,” you laughed, and you quickly dropped as much of it in the bowl as possible. But getting fractals of the shell in the bowl disturbed your anal sense of meticulousness. When it came to cracking eggs, you typically had nothing if not precision.

You shot Dean an accusatory look over your shoulder. He just grinned back at you.

“Am I helping yet?” he joked.

You chuckled dryly in response. “Just you wait.”

A few more minutes and “helpful” distractions from Dean later, you successfully had a cake batter in the bowl. You were hand mixing up a storm and sorely missing your Kitchen Aid mixer. Dean was right though; his cupboards had little more than one cake pan, one mixing bowl, and one wooden spoon.

At home, you had a modest collection of cookware and bakeware that rivaled Williams & Sonoma. Though that had been a gift from your grandparents, when you graduated from culinary school. (Your grandma had picked them out before she passed.)

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you asked Dean. You were pretending not to catch him sampling the batter with a finger while you buttered the cake tin.

“Ever?” he asked, rubbing a licked finger on his jeans.

“Yeah. Number one top favorite.”

“Hmm,” he contemplated with a cross of his arms. “Pie, I guess.”

You smirked. That explained his little man-child display a few weeks ago, when you’d tried to share his blueberry pie on your second date.

“What flavor?” you asked.

“I dunno. I’m not real picky,” he said.

“Come on. Everyone has a favorite flavor,” you reasoned. “I’m more of a cake girl myself, but even I love a blueberry pie.”

Dean eyed your teasing grin with a growing smirk of his own. He remembered that day in your office just as well as you.

“Okay, fine. Apple, I guess,” he replied. You gave him a mocking look.

“Really, the most basic of them all?” You tsked at him, shaking your head. “What happened to Mr. Rocky Road?”

Dean chuckled, but he leaned against the counter next to you. Instead of giving it to you right back, as usual, he looked more thoughtful. A gentler look grew on his face. It caught your attention.

“You know, one of my earliest memories…” He looked up at you then, more self-deprecating.

You realized he was about to admit to something, maybe embarrassing, or maybe just vulnerable. Your smile softened too as you paused in what you were doing.

“You can’t leave me hanging on that one,” you said. And you drew closer with a hand soothing up his arm.

He glanced over at you. “I remember being…four, probably. My mom made pies during Christmastime. Cherry, pecan, whatever. But my favorite was her apple pie. I still remember it, because I haven’t had a pie since that tasted like that one.”

Your heart clenched, but your insides also warmed. Not just at the story of his mother, but the way Dean told it, his voice softer, steady, and deep. It told you a lot about him without him having to explain; just like you, he knew what loss was.

You curled your hands around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Then your gaze drew back up to his.

“Have you talked to your dad since the last time?” you asked, a bit cautiously. “About his investigation of the fire?”

Dean sighed deep through his nose. “No.”

But despite his father’s warning, he had spoken to Sam.

“It’s different this time, Sam. The brand marks are the same,” Dean argued with his brother, this time in the living room. He sat on the couch while Sam stood, trying to process everything Dean had just told him about Mary’s potential murder.

“You saw the pictures yourself?” Sam asked.

Dean frowned. “No, but Dad—”

“Dean,” Sam cut him off as he gripped at his temples in frustration. “This is what he does. He sees evidence where he wants to see evidence. I’ve been down this road with him too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean gritted out. John had roped Sam into helping him a few times, using his ADA status to look into different leads that ultimately hadn’t panned out.

“They always look like connections to him, but they never end up being anything more than his obsession,” Sam said.

He was firm, and Dean understood why, but his gut was telling him that it was different this time…

Still, he had no choice but to let it go. For now.

Dean shook his head of that memory. Instead, he tried to focus on being here with you. He liked this little yellow sundress you had on, despite the fall chill starting to set in outside. As usual, your hair was clipped up away from your neck while you got ready to put the now full cake tin into the oven.

He came over behind you and freed your hair from the clip, letting it all tumble down. You yelped and glanced over at him.

“Dean,” you chided, even though you were smiling. “My hair’s going to get in the batter.”

“I’ll keep it away, don’t worry,” he said lightly. He curled some of your hair around his hand so he could once again press a tantalizing kiss to the back of your neck. He felt you shiver.

You subtly leaned back against him, even as you whined in protest.

“Can you just let me get this in the oven?” you asked on a laugh. He smirked against your skin. You did manage to get the cake in the oven, but his lips and teasing hands were unrelenting as you tried to start cleaning up.

So you felt you had to take matters into your own hands. A mischievous idea had you smiling. You reached out for some flour that had spilled on the counter.

You turned, and before he realized what you were up to, you marked his forehead with an arch of white against his skin.

“Simba,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to mimic Mufasa from The Lion King.

Dean’s brows rose along with his widening eyes. He’d never seen you do something that childish, but it sparked his competitiveness as he blinked a bit of flour out of his eyes.

“You’re real proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

Your little smirk was answer enough. You flicked a bit more flour onto his shirt.

Dean chuckled darkly. “Okay, you asked for it.”

Both a gasp and a giggle caught in your throat.

“Oh, no.”

He reached past you for some flour off the counter and flicked it down at you, into your hair, across your face. He grabbed your flailing wrist and marked your cheeks. All the while, his grin grew ever deeper at your shrieking protests.

But you grew devious. You stuck two fingers into the bowl and scraped out a gob of raw, yellow batter. You were fully prepared to fling it into his face, but Dean grabbed your wrist.

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

He soon released you with a soft pop, before he did the same to the second finger.

Your breath hitched, and your blush was a living thing spreading down your neck, even as warmth pooled between your legs. By the time your second finger slid out of his mouth, you had to reach back to grip the counter just to steady yourself.

His arm slipped around your waist, and you reached for his face with both hands, bringing him down for the hottest kiss you’d ever had in your life. Teeth clicking, lips and tongues warring and devouring. Your fingers slipped roughly through his hair, while he gripped your hips and ass with a passion just shy of bruising.

You almost didn’t register the way his hands slipped under your thighs, to then heft you up onto the counter. You gasped into his mouth and clung tightly to his shoulders. He chuckled and positioned himself to stand between your legs.

“What, need a little warning?” he teased. Though he was breathless as your soft lips veered away from his, starting a burning path across his jaw and down his neck. You left the remnants of your lipstick all along the way, but it was the occasional graze of your teeth that had him moaning for you.

“Maybe,” you whispered coarsely against his skin, uttering a small laugh, “Sometimes I forget how damn strong you are.”

He scoffed. “Sweetheart, if I can heft a grown man on my shoulders up a flight of stairs, I can get you up on a little counter.”

You snorted in response. Perks of dating a firefighter.

And you shoved off his plaid shirt from his shoulders. Dean helped you by letting it drop the rest of the way to the floor, followed by his black undershirt.

You couldn’t believe this was the first time you were seeing him with his shirt off. It was a damn shame, really. But you caught the bit of smugness curving his lips at the way you were ogling, first with your eyes, then with your exploring hands over his toned arms and chest, and the solid plane of his abs, all the way down to his belt. You started undoing the clasp.

Dean couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he stopped you with his hands gently curling around your wrists. You looked up at him in confusion. To him, you looked unbelievably sexy then. Thoroughly kissed, hair tousled, a strap of your dress fallen to one shoulder while your lacey black bra peeked through.

Just the memory of having your curves in his hands had his dick hardening in his jeans, but he blew out a breath.

“Dean?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

His hands tightened on yours as he peered down at you. “Are you sure?”

You blinked incredulously. “Did I look not sure?”

He paused, licking his lips. He raised a hand to hold your cheek.

“I just…you know I’m trying to do this right with you,” he said. “I just want to know…”

He couldn’t seem to finish what he was trying to say, but you thought you understood. You smiled up at him warmly. You leaned up for a kiss, softer this time.

“Dean, I trust you,” you said. And you could finally say it with no reservations. “I think this feels real. More real than anything I’ve had in a long time… What about you?”

When Dean smiled, it was warm, melting away the doubt in his eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” he said.

He seemed sincere. Maybe this man spared few words when it came to how he felt, but you’d seen a glimpse of the deeper parts. He felt things deeply, down to his bones.

His fingers sunk into your hair, and he guided you into a kiss. It was slower, but no less heady and wanting than the first. Your arms wrapped around his middle, letting you flatten your palms against the muscles in his back. But just as you were getting comfortable, Dean broke the kiss. He flashed you a smirk.

Before you could ask what the hell he was about to do, he’d hefted you back into his arms and over his shoulder. You squawked in protest as your whole world tipped over. Your face thudded on his back with a soft oof, your hair loose and falling like a curtain. Your hands accidentally fell against his ass.

“Ooh, someone’s handsy,” Dean teased.

“Dean!” you exclaimed, despite your peals of laughter. “Is this really necessary? I think I can find your room just fine.”

“Call it an officer’s escort,” he supplied.

“That’s for policemen!” you argued.

You couldn’t see it, but you could imagine the way he was grinning from ear to ear as he carried you through the apartment. You never noticed just how long his bowed legs were as he strode onward. But it felt like his shoulder was digging into your appendix.

Grunting in frustration, you slapped his ass again for good measure.

Dean laughed. “Hey, you’re only fueling my fire, baby.”

He slapped your ass right back, since he had an even better vantage point. He even slipped a hand underneath your little sundress and squeezed the inside of your thigh teasingly.

Your answering yelp, and the futile kick of your feet, had him laughing harder. His cheeks were aching.

Finally he reached his room, where he shut the door with his foot. He was gentle as he eased you off his shoulder and laid you down on his bed. You let out a breathless huff once your head hit the pillows. Your face was all red from being suspended upside-down, your hair a mess, and your dress pooling over your folded legs.

You gave Dean a playful glare. “Get over here.”

His smirk deepened, but he obliged you. He chucked his shoes off first, just like you let your sandals slip off the side of the bed.

He soon made his way up the bed, until he was hovering over you with his arms braced on either side of your head. He liked the way you were all laid out for him over his sheets, your wild hair spread over his pillows. He’d pictured something like this before, but nothing came close to having you for real.

He just didn’t know you’d been dreaming of the same thing.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly fall for someone, not in a long time. You’d been too focused on pivoting after school, on building your career, on taking care of your family. You’d dated here and there, but nothing had stuck for more than a few months. Even then, you’d never felt half of what you felt right now.

It scared you a little, but it also made you feel alive. Being with Dean made you feel that way.

So you took his face between your hands. His stubble rasped against your palms and the pads of your fingers. You didn’t mind that though. He’d left it a bit long for a shave last week. When you’d mentioned off-hand that you liked the thicker scruff (thinking it made him all the more handsome), he’d kept it for you. 

Now, he seemed like he was waiting on your cue.

You guided him down to you. He kissed you hot and slow, while a hand moved to your waist and clenched in the material of your dress. He slipped a heavy thigh between both of yours. The pressure was welcome, but you wanted friction.

You bunched up the skirt of your dress and aimed to slip it off, but Dean stopped your hands.

“That’s my job,” he teased.

“Then how about you get to it?” you countered with a smile. He rose a brow at you.

“A bit bossy, but I can dig that,” he smirked.

His kisses dropped against your neck, down your exposed neckline, and he peeled down the straps of your dress one by one. Your breathing became more labored as he touched you, squeezing a breast over the bra as he exposed more inches of your body.

Your fingers carded through his hair on a sigh as he made his way further down. Though he finally got impatient enough to work your dress off all the way, followed by his jeans and your bra and matching lacey panties. He lavished attention what felt like all over your body.

Really, he was just strategic. He stopped in places where you lost breath, moaning his name. Like the spot just under your ear, where he sucked hard enough to make you see stars. Or over your breasts, taking a pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling with his tongue like he had the cake batter off your fingers.

His hands mapped out the soft planes and curves of your body for the first time, sometimes smooth and grazing, sometimes adding pressure that made warmth continue to pool between your legs.  

He went further still, wrapping an arm around your thigh and pressing nipping kisses along the inside. All the while his mouth drew closer to the place you wanted him the most. Even though you still raised up on your elbow and gave him a questioning look.

“Really? You want to…” Your voice came out in a whisper.

Dean looked up at you with puzzled brows. “Why not?”

You shook your head, your eyes widening marginally.

“No reason, I guess. I, um…I’ve never had someone do this for me first.” And certainly not on the first time having sex.

Dean frowned.

“Really?” he asked. “A guy’s never gone down on you first?”

You blushed. “Well, maybe with his fingers, but not…”

He shook his head and let out a breath. You felt it between your thighs, and your core clenched in anticipation.

“Okay, baby. I gotcha,” he said. He guided you back down with a gentle hand. “Just lie back and relax.”

You smiled, despite your lingering blush, and you stroked the hand that rested above your stomach. That hand soon slid down as he once again kissed and licked down your thighs. They quivered a bit as his fingers slipped between your folds.

“So fucking wet for me already,” he said in approval. You peered down at him, unable to help a smile.

“You want a medal?” you quipped.

Dean’s brows rose.

“Oh, I’m about to earn it.” His eyes found yours. “You know what my real favorite pie flavor is?”

Your brows knitted together. “What?”

A familiar smirk crossed his lips. “Cherry.”

Before your choked surprise could be broken with a laugh, he began. 

And he wasn’t lying, about any of it. The pads of his fingers began toying with your clit, and that alone had your breath hitching and your hips squirming.

He held you down with one hand on your lower belly while his tongue joined his fingers, seeking your heat and finding the hot channel where you craved to be filled. You gasped.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. Once his warm tongue began rolling inside you, you almost couldn’t breathe.

He worked you over with fingers, lips and tongue until you were arching off the bed, fists clenched in his hair and in the sheets, releasing broken gasps of his name. He didn’t relent until your thighs stopped shaking around his head. Your knees were damn near pinning him there.

He eventually withdrew, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He moved smoothly back up your body and heeded the pull of your hands on his arms, and then his face. You tugged him down for a sloppy kiss. 

“How’s that for a first?” he asked breathlessly. His tone was teasing, but he was half-serious you thought, by the look in his eyes.

You were honest, without a hint of a joke. “Fucking incredible. Just like you.”

Dean wouldn’t admit it then, but what you said warmed him. He looked down on you with a smile.

Your hands caressed his face, down his neck and firm chest, and further still to caress his straining length over his boxer briefs. Dean let out a halting moan at your gentle touch. 

“What if I want to return the favor?” you asked with a smile. He made a sound deep in his throat when you cupped him more firmly, letting your thumb brush over the head.

Well hello, you thought. He was thick, and a bit bigger than your first thought. Your already sensitive core tightened at the thought. 

Meanwhile, Dean squeezed your arm. His hot gaze bore into yours.

“Very, very tempting.” His thumb brushed your lower lip. “I’ve no doubt you’ve got some talents yourself.”

You smiled under the pad of his thumb. Part of you was contemplating some retribution, sucking it into your mouth the way he’d done to your fingers in the kitchen.

“But I’m thinkin’ I want to skip to the part where I have you coming apart all over again,” said Dean. His head bowed near your ear, though his lips skimmed the side of your face. “This time, from the inside.”

His voice was deep and threaded with grit. You bit your lip on a giddy laugh. You managed to nod, sweeping your shaky fingers through his hair.

“Okay, next time then,” you promised and gave him a sensuous kiss. “But first, just want to make sure you’re ready for me…”

You leaned down to slide his underwear for him, down to his knees. He helped you the rest of the way, kicking them off his legs. When he came back, you were sitting up.

You soothed warm hands along his thighs and took his cock into your hands. Dean dropped his forehead onto your shoulder with a grunt, again squeezing your arms as you touched him properly for the first time.

Dean had a habit of impressing you, and this was no different. You liked the feel of him in your hands, warm and thick and heavy.

After licking your hand to coat it with some wetness, you experimented for a moment in how you stroked him, trying to get a feel for what he liked just as he had for you. He gasped and jolted on one particular twist, and he finally stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“Okay, baby. Keep that up and we’re not gonna get much farther for a while,” he said coarsely.

It was satisfying to know you’d made him feel even a fraction of how he’d made you feel.

You pressed a purposeful kiss into his neck. “I told you, next time I’ll take care of you for real.”

He chuckled, cupping the side of your face.

“Oh, you’re about to. Believe me,” he said.

He kissed you long and deep, until you were once again breathless. The two of you were kneeling in the middle of the bed like you had all the time in the world. And yet, you wanted him more than ever.

“I’m on birth control,” you told him between more fervent kisses, hands drifting, feeling skin to warm, dewy skin, breaths mingling.

“And I’m clean,” he said. You nodded, hesitating…

“It’s our first time,” you said. “Condom, just to be safe.”

He hesitated only a beat before he nodded back, agreeing to your request. “Yes, ma’am.”

He broke from you briefly. He turned and dug into his nightstand while your nails drew light patterns down his back. It was distracting in the best of ways. A trill of excitement had his hands moving quickly, ripping the foil packet open and fitting himself with the condom.

When he was ready for you, he turned and hooked an arm around your waist. You twined your arms around his neck, and once again, you let him lay you down. His kiss came first, and then his fingers between your legs, past your folds to stroke you back to life.

You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around his hips. Though he surprised you again by hooking your legs over his shoulders. Your brows raised at him, and he shot you a wink.

“Trust me, you’ll like it this way,” he said.

You did trust him. Your hands caressed down his neck, down his chest, and you subtly urged him with your heels on his back, encouraging him where you both knew he needed to be.

And with one slow push, his cock was stretching your inner walls with slow, delicious friction. You both groaned at the feeling. His forehead pressed against yours. His hand trembled slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. And he began moving inside you in steady strokes.

Dean was putting his all into this tonight. He thought your promises to take care of him next time were as endearing as they were sexy as hell. Even now, you were touching him wherever you could reach, occasionally moaning his name in his ear, encouraging him with every thrust inside you.

Fuck, he was right, you thought. He was reaching places deep inside you, filling you to the very brim. And you were already on the edge of pleasure, brows furrowed, biting your lower lip so hard that your teeth nearly broke the skin…

Your fingers slipped down between you to further part your folds and rub your already sensitive clit. Dean caught the hint and moved your hand to do it himself, as in time with his thrusts as he could. Finally, you unraveled for the second time that night. Your gasp gave way to a moan.

Your tightening walls gripped him like a vice. His release hit him with the same force, choking a near shout out of him. His hand was a bit too tight in your hair, he realized, so he forced himself to ease up.

He petted over your hair instead as he came down with ragged breaths. After he released your shaky legs back to the bed, he leaned mostly on his elbow and thigh instead of sinking all his weight onto you.

You appreciated that. You soothed up and down his back while you panted for breath.

“Wow,” you managed to say.

Dean’s chuckle took him by surprise too.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He turned his head to press a sloppy kiss where your neck met your shoulder.

Just then, a distant-sounding jingle reached your ears. It was familiar…and you remembered it was the alarm on your phone, which was probably in the kitchen.

“Oh shit,” you gasped. “The cake’s still in the oven.”

He blinked. “Well, I don’t smell burning, so we’re good.”

“Dean! You’re a firefighter, remember?” you laughed, but you still tapped his shoulder so he’d roll over. Reluctantly he did, but he still took you with him, even after he’d slid out of you.

You yelped and clung to his shoulders to balance yourself. “I gotta get the cake!”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled into your neck. He also liked the way your breasts were pressed against his chest.

“It’s going to be so…damn…burnt!” You punctuated each of those syllables with a playful smack on his arm, until he finally released you with a lazy smirk.

You shook your head and huffed in amusement. Sliding out of bed, you searched around for your dress. The first thing you found was his discarded undershirt. You slipped it on real quick and cautiously padded out of Dean’s room. You didn’t know if Sam was back from work, but this was not how you wanted to meet him.

The halls were quiet, so you didn’t think he was home yet. You managed to get to the kitchen unscathed, where you turned off your timer and grabbed some oven mitts. You opened the oven and pulled out the cake, setting it down on the counter. Your eyes narrowed at the almost perfect dome on top.

“What’s the verdict, Chef Ramsay?”

Dean leaned in the doorway, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. The view was delectable, but you sighed and gestured at the cake with a shake of your head.

“It’s burnt.”

“What? No, it’s not,” he refuted. He joined your side and stared down at the top of the cake, which was half browned. “Looks all right to me.”

“Trust me, it’s going to be dry,” you said, “even with the lemon drizzle on it.”

It was the perfectionist in you that smarted with disappointment. You didn’t want to serve anyone something you weren’t proud of, especially Dean. But he just leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “I’m still gonna eat the crap out of it.”

You glanced at him, unable to help a small smile. He grinned back.

“Anyway, I think it was worth it. Don’t you?” Dean said. He pulled you in towards him by your waist, and you went willingly, resting your hands against his bare chest. You let your nails drag against his skin a little as you contemplated.

You looked up at him with a grin of your own.

“Yeah. Definitely worth it.”

Dean later sat with you again at the table, this time with your chairs closer together as you each ate large slices of delicious cake (even if it was a bit dry). Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the copious number of dishes still left in the sink and the flour and batter sprinkled across the counter.

He knew Sam was going to have a conniption when he got home (in the morning at this rate). He was probably crashing at Eileen’s apartment tonight.

Good, Dean thought. That meant he’d have the place all to himself, with you.

“You know, I just realized something,” he said.

You knew that look in his eyes. He was about to say something smartass.

“What’s that?” you asked. He reached out and thumbed at your chin.

“I just got my dessert twice in one sitting,” he remarked. “That’s pretty damn good, if you ask me.”

You snorted in laughter. You also blushed, but you were unable to stop smiling either.

You set down your fork and eased back from the table. Your hand on Dean’s shoulder encouraged him to do the same, so you could sit across his lap. He welcomed you with a warm hand on your bare thigh. Already it was creeping under the shirt you borrowed.

You stroked his cheek with the back of your hand and gave him a mischievous smile.

“Think you could handle another serving?”

AN: 🫣 Was it everything you wanted it to be? lol I love me some baking innuendo. What did you like more: eating the cherry pie or making the lemon drizzle? 😏❤️‍🔥

In Part 8, Dean's past comes a knockin'...

Next Time:

While you were getting dressed, a phone buzzed on one of the nightstands beside the bed. It was Dean’s phone.

You went over to it curiously as you fixed the straps of your dress. The screen showed a missed text message from last night, around 10:00 p.m., and another one this morning. You read the latest one with a sinking feeling in your chest.

From Marissa: Surprised I didn’t hear back from you last night. The offer still stands. 😘

Keep Reading: PART 8

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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[redzie02]

Jongho is starving for your touch and demands your attention

jongho drabble. previous jongho fic

warnings: none/ jongho is baby bear af/ clingy jongho propaganda/ domestic vibes masterlist

Imagine, you got home a few hours ago. The first thing you did was rid yourself of your work clothes in exchange for comfier ones. A loose fitting tee- that you stole from your boyfriend- and some shorts.

The dishes that were left in the sink after breakfast that morning were quickly washed. Floors swept, tables wiped down. Everything was clean and you were free. Free to do what, exactly? Nothing.

Throwing your body onto the couch, you let out a breath, covering your legs with the plush blanket that was gifted to you many years ago.

You scroll through your texts, replying to any you might've missed while cleaning. You spot a few from Jongho.

2:30 pm jongie♡: i miss you. i wanna go home

2:31 pm jongie♡: hongjoong extended practice :(

2:40 pm jongie♡: helloooooo

2:45 pm jongie♡: hello :(

2:49 pm jongie♡: we leave at 3, u better answer me then :(

It was now 2:59 pm. Your lips tugged downward as you read the messages- you shouldn't have silenced your notifications. Idiot mistake. You were about to type until you saw three little dots appear on the screen. You waited for his text.

3 pm jongie♡: heading home now! ...are u there

You replied.

my y/n: yes! sorry i didnt see your texts earlier, bear :(

jongie♡: did you die

my y/n: no lol i was cleaning. are u tired? hungry?

jongie♡: tired, yes

jongie♡: hungry, not yet. had some snacks :) got u a croissant

my y/n: UGH I LOVE YOU <3 see u when u get here jongie

jongie♡: u only love me cuz i bring u food :(

my y/n: yes :) now hurry

You scrolled through various apps, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of your dimly lit apartment while you waited for Jongho.

It only took 15 minutes before three quick taps from the door interrupted your scrolling. You opened the door only to be engulfed by a pair of strong arms. You beamed into Jongho's chest. "Hi bear."

Still clutching you in his arms, he walked you backward into the apartment, kicking the door closed with his foot. With his head buried into your neck, he inhaled. "Mmm, you smell so good. Why do you always smell so good?"

"Maybe it's cause I steal your body wash." He chuckled. "You, however, smell like you've been dancing for eight hours."

Jongho lifted his head with disbelief written all over his face. "You can forget about the croissant."

"Wait! What I meant to say was that you should get comfortable and you know, put on some fresh clothes and we can relax together while I eat the croissant my amazing, beautiful boyfriend bought me." You fluttered your eyelashes at him. He had a soft spot for you and you knew that. He almost never says no to you.

Jongho sighed and let go of you to reach into his messenger bag. He feigned reluctance as he passed you the brown paper bag containing the freshly baked croissant. "Here. I'll be back."

"Thank you, baby," you pulled him in for a soft kiss, pressing your lips onto his warm ones. His shoulders relaxed under your touch- tension he didn't even realize he held. He almost whimpered at the feeling, sighing into your mouth. He really did miss you. Jongho just about crumbled when you pulled away, heading back to the couch. "I'll be here."

He groaned but trudged himself to your shared bedroom anyway, grabbing clean clothes, and hopping into the shower soon after.

It was the quickest he had ever showered, not wanting to waste any more time without you in his arms. Yet when he returned to the living room, you had barely even glanced his way. You didn't even comment on his wet hair that you liked so much because you thought it was cute.

Jongho was disappointed, to say the least. Sure, you were here, but all your attention had been taken up by your stupid screen. Oh, how he envied the little device in your hand.

With an audible exhale, he lifted your legs, placed them over his lap, then plopped down on the couch. Your croissant was nowhere to be seen, devoured in a matter of seconds, he assumed. Besides the few tiktoks you had showed him, he sat there, staring at the ceiling. His fingers danced up and down your legs. He massaged your calf. His hands snuck their way up to knead at your soft thighs. He even tickled your foot, but nothing seemed to avert your eyes from your phone.

Jongho puffed his cheeks and blew the air out, bored and frustrated out of his mind. All he wanted was you. All he could think about was being wrapped in your embrace, feeling your body heat mixing with his. It made his skin itch with need.

He sat up suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

You locked your phone, listening for anything that may have been out of the ordinary. "What?" You sat up, a little frightened. "I don’t hear anything."

"Exactly. When was the last time we were alone like this? We have the rest of today and tomorrow to ourselves."

"Jongho, you scared me! I thought someone was breaking in or something," you clutched your chest whilst Jongho laughed at your melodrama. You attempted to poke his sides with your foot, but he caught your ankle. "Not funny," you whined. "What do you wanna do?"

"I’m not sure. What are you up for?" Satisfied he caught your attention, he brought your leg up, placing a gentle kiss on your ankle.

"Welp, as of right now? Absolutely nothing." You stretched and let out an ahh and shifted your gaze back to your phone.

Jongho frowned and leaned forward, snatching your phone and stuffing it between the cushions.

“Hey!”

"It’s just me and you and all you wanna do is use your phone! What about me?" His bottom lip jutted out further than before and his eyes were round and shiny.

You would take a picture if your phone wasn’t being squished in the couch.

You held your arms out for him. "Come here."

He tossed one of your legs over his side and settled himself between them, his head now resting on your shoulder. His damp hair lightly grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You threaded your fingers through his dark locks.

"I miss you," he softly spoke.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm sorry I wasn't giving you my attention."

"It's okay, I know- just...hold me." And you did. You wrapped your legs around him and held him as tightly as you could to your body. Tender kisses were placed on his forehead. Your hands refused to settle as they roamed his arms, his back, his face. You felt Jongho's breathing slow down, letting you know that he was falling asleep. You remembered he hadn't eaten dinner, so you gently tapped him a few times.

"Jongho, don't fall asleep, I have to make you dinner."

"No, don't let go. This feels too good." He only snuggled his face deeper between your neck and shoulder, squishing his lips against your skin.

"You have to eat, bear. You've only had what? Breakfast and snacks all day? After hours of practicing the choreos? I love you and I won't let you starve."

"I'd rather starve then let go. I've needed this all day." His words vibrated against your skin, hardly coherent, but you understood nonetheless.

"It'll be quick, I promise, yeah? How does pasta sound?"

He hummed and nodded, slowly getting up. Exhaustion had etched itself onto his face and it made your heart cry out. Before heading towards the kitchen, you leaned down and peppered kisses all over his face. Usually he'd protest at the affection, but he closed his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. "Just ten minutes, okay?"

a/n: i honestly didnt know where to go with this, i just kept writing lol. reader was hauling ass trying to get that pasta ready btw

[whackk-kermitt]

We Weren't Together

Warning: Pack Mom Stiles(mostly Off screen), Derek is the Alpha, Everyone is Alive, Derek is Jelly, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Significant Background Character, Lydia is the best Meddler, Happy Ending Summary: Derek and Stiles are not a couple. Simple as that. Not really sure where I was going with this one. It might be total shit. Womp Womp. NOT PROOFREAD

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

"Cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!"

"You so did! How else would you have all that money when you own two properties!" Erica flung a shoe. All Stiles could do was laugh until his ribs ached.

"Okay," Lydia sighed setting her cards down and backing from the coffee table to lean against the arm of the couch. Allison looked on unimpressed, but only because she knew Stiles cheated.

"Oh come on," Scott groaned. "This is why I never play Monopoly."

"Who's Idea was this?" Isaac threw his cards down and looked around, a scowl due for the culprit.

"Yours." Lydia supplied with an unimpressed expression and a tilt of the head.

Derek sat back with a privet smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to work bringing the old Hale house back to a livable condition. And once the majority of it was done, the pack, without being asked, began coming over every Saturday to spend time all together. He'd see individuals pop in throughout the week, but he loved when they'd all be here together.

"No," Isaac defended. "I said we have, Clue, Uno, Scategories, and Monopoly. I never said I wanted to play this one."

"The way you said 'and Monopoly', made it sound like you did." Stiles offered with a look in his eye Derek couldn't place. "And who could say no to that adorable ridiculous scarf." He teased with kissy lips and a pinch to Isaac's cheek. Isaac swatted his hand away but his cheeks went red.

"If nobody wants to play I'd rather not waste my time." Boyd piped up, the first thing he's said since he reluctantly agreed to play this.

"Okay, we wanna do a different game or a movie?" Stiles offered starting to clean up the pieces into the box.

"Movie!" Erica cheered. "Who's turn is it to pick?"

Derek, who was already up and walking into the kitchen, stopped and checked the calendar on the wall. It was a calendar bought from the vet clinic with different dogs for every month, posing in costumes related to that month's holiday. You can guess who bought it.

Thinking of a name that rhymes with Biles Bilinski.

Who took the commitment to go through the calendar and alternate the pack's names on every Saturday, to mark their turn to choose. Since nobody could ever agree.

"Erica." Derek grinned with his back to the living room while Erica and Lydia cheered, while most of the boys groaned. Whenever it was either of them, they teamed up to find a movie literally only girls would like- according to Jackson. They've been made to watch The Notebook five times, The Princess Bride three times, and 10 Things I Hate About You four times.

Derek leaving the girls behind to settle on what to torture the boys with, he pulled bowls from the cabanit and a pot. Oiling the bottom of the pot, pour in corn kernels to coat the bottom. He covered the pot and let it heat up, turning to get butter from the fridge. But a hand was already on the fridge pulling it open.

Stiles always had a smile on his face when he was at the house, just as happy to be here with everyone as Derek was. Derek watched as Stiles took out the butter opened two sticks into a bowl from the dish rack and plopped it in the microwave. While the corn began popping Stiles and Derek danced around each other in the kitchen, working in perfect synchronicity to stock the large tray with canned drinks, bottles of water, and other various snacks.

Derek eyes all the sugary garbage on the try without making a sound. He had a sweet tooth sure, but he preferred actual baked goods, not the overly processed Debbie cakes and Oreo cookies they kept in the snack cabinet. Just as he was about to settle for just popcorn and water Stiles's hand came into view as he wordlessly put a bag of homemade cookies on the tray. Sharpie scrawled out 'sourwolf' with a smiley face on it.

Derek said nothing, watching Stiles turn and ready the three big bowls for the popcorn to be sorted into. Things like this made Derek feel like a very lucky man. Stiles never even thought about it, just did things like this. Not only for Derek but for the rest of the pack as well. Always taking one extra step to make sure everyone was happy.

Derek knew when Stiles was overthinking things; his nose would scrunch up, sometimes just the slightest bit, and he'd fidget a little more than usual. Derek knew what Stiles had to think before he did something, he never stopped to think about this stuff.

Stiles was a good friend, and Derek was happy he was pack.

After getting the popcorn buttered and evenly distributed they scooped everything up and brought it to the living room. Everyone was finding their seats on the two couches and the armchair, with a movie called Clueless qued up on Netflix.

Derek set the tray down, grabbed a water bottle and his cookies, and found his stop on the end of the couch he always takes. Stiles passed out the bowls of popcorn and settled in. Derek had gotten distracted watching Scott and Isaac fuss over who gets the last can of coke. He snorted dryly and turned to look at Stiles, who always and something to say about their childlike bickering.

Except when he turned to his left, it was the body that sat next to him. Boyd wasn't even paying attention to him. Huh, odd.

Derek looked over to the other couch where Stiles was squished in between Lydia and Erica who were explaining all the reasons Stiles was gonna love this movie. Stiles was smiling at the girls and chuckling, amused at how excited Erica was.

He was confused for a moment about why he assumed it would be Stiles sitting next to him. It didn't matter though, Stiles can sit anywhere, it's not like it matters.

He thought about it while everyone quieted down and the movie started.

Derek thought about all the previous times they settled in for movie night, and from what Derek recalled, Stiles sat by him every time. Derek thought about it for a moment and found himself amused.

If he told Stiles about it he knew what Stiles would say. Something about Pavlov, and Derek subconsciously thinking Stiles would always be next to him when they watched a movie because up until now he was.

But it didn't really matter where anyone sat, Derek convinced himself. He is just as happy sitting next to Boyd as he would be next to Stiles, or anyone else for that matter.

But as the movie went on, and Erica and Lydia both started leaning more onto Stiles, laughing at the funny parts and basically snuggling together, Derek decided he didn't like it.

Something in him became unsettled when by the second half of the movie Stiles started dozing off like he did almost every movie night, his head laying on Lydia's shoulder.

If Stiles were sitting over here, his head would fall onto Derek's shoulder like it always did. Stiles would wake up after the movie was over, everyone going home, and say something along the lines of 'good flick'. To which Derek would tease him for sleeping through most of it and use the drool on his shirt as evidence.

Derek didn't have a word to describe the feeling, didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused it, because it really didn't matter. The pack is pack, he was happy to see Stiles and everyone getting along so well, being so close, but it still bugged him.

After the movie was over, everyone did their share of cleaning up, said goodnight, and was out the door. Erica and Boyd being the last to go, as soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek sighed and his smile fell. This pit in his stomach only twisted more, when Stiles only gave him a one-word goodbye and offered Lydia a ride him.

"So," Isaac awkwardly swayed a little as Derek entered the kitchen. "Are you and Stiles fighting?"

"What?" Derek paused his stride through the room to stare at him.

"Well, tonight you guys," He studdered for a bit, the awkwardness he was feeling just asking very prevalent on his face. "Seemed off tonight. I don't know."

"No," Derek shook his head. "We're fine."

"Okay," Isaac clearly didn't believe him and bound up the stairs to his room.

Derek stood there for a moment and shook it off. He stuffed the feeling down like he did with almost anything unpleasant and went to bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It was 11:43 pm. It was slightly rainy and cold out. Stars and the moon shone over the preserve, eliminating the front yard.

Derek stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, watching out the window at the driveway. Sparing a glance at the clock every few minutes.

Isaac was late. Super late. Not answering his phone, not sending a single text.

He was about to give up waiting for something, anything when a familiar jeep rolled up the long dirt road and onto the gravel driveway.

"Man," He heard Isaac's faint voice from outside. "He's still up. I'm in deep shit."

Isaac followed with dragging feet as a very amused Stiles him and Scott up the front steps.

When they entered they kicked off their shoes and joined a very disappointed-looking Derek. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. The three gathered in front of him awaiting hell to rain down, except Derek didn't fail to notice the subtle grin on Stile's face.

"You're late."

"Sorry, we lost track of time." Isaac pouted like a picked puppy.

"You have a phone."

"It died." He shrugged.

"Neither of you have phones?" Derek glared at the other two.

The three looked between themselves and gave each other the "why didn't we think of that" look.

Derek sighed pitifully, "If I ask you to be home by a reasonable hour I don't think that's too much to ask. Full moons right around the corner and-" He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry me like this again, " He waved the topic away.

Issac nodded shamefully and muttered an apology. The fear of being reprimanded stayed firm in his eyes and stiff body. It almost made Derek feel guilty for being upset in the first place, but he knew he had every right to worry.

"It's fine." Derek shook his head. "I just need to know where you are or at least be able to get in touch with you if something happens. I was worried Isaac, I'm not mad."

Isaac nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders.

"How was the party?" Derek didn't care really, he just wanted Isaac to feel comfortable.

"Fun, the whole team was there. We got bored when everyone else was too drunk to even talk to so we bailed and got some food and Mami's Diner." Scott smiles recalling the evening.

"Yeah, parties aren't as fun when you can't get tipsy with everyone else."

"Too bad for you guys." Stiles sighed with a goofy grin. They all took their spots at the breakfast bar.

"You didn't drink a drop tonight though." Isaac pointed out.

"And trust one of you to drive my baby?" Stiles accused as if the two were actively planning a first-degree murder in front of him. They all merely chuckled at his dramatics and moved on from that.

"Derek," Scott started with a grimace. "Can I stay the night? Moms working a double and I don't wanna wake her getting home this late."

Derek shrugged, indifferent. He'd gotten the guestrooms ready from the rest of the back. Hell, any of them could show up wanting to spend the night, with no excuse or reason, and he'd be happy to have them. It's why the rooms are there.

"Me too!" Stiles piped up. "I have no reason, just too lazy to drive I guess."

Derek chuckled a little and welcomed them both to a guest room of their choosing.

Isaac excused himself to the bathroom to shower, as Derek led Scott and Stiles up the stairs. He showed off the finished rooms and let them pick and choose. Stiles picked the one next to his room, claiming dibs because the other room had a draft.

"How much work left is there?" Stiles asked mindlessly looking down the hall at the section of the house still covered in plastic to protect the new wood flooring. Tools, wood varnishes, and cans of paint sat out in the hall.

Derek motioned him down the hall as Scott, uninterested, entered the room on the other end and settled in for bed.

Stiles followed Derek into an unfinished bedroom and took a look around. Derek flicked on the lights he'd just wired and put in the other day. The drywall was fresh and the whole room was covered in plastic, tape guarding the fixings and crown molding. The room was nearly ready to be painted and furnished.

"Just need to fix the wiring to the other room, mount the shelving, and this window," Derek strolled over and giggled the latch. "Needs to be fixed or replaced at some point. It won't open."

Stiles nodded looking around and smiling to himself.

"Other than that, it's just fixing up the back porch and the half-bath downstairs." He turned to look at Stiles. "What?"

"Nothing," Stiles shrugged, smile never fading. "I'm just happy."

"About what?" Derek asked curiously approaching Stiles like he was about to get a pie in the face.

"I don't know. Just in a good mood tonight, I guess."

When Derek was close enough he stopped, twisting his head and pouting at a smell invading his nose. Stiles almost made a kicked puppy joke until he saw that something was defiantly bothering Derek.

"What is it?"

"You smell weird."

"Well, I was just at a party with about sixty or seventy drunk teenagers, so."

"No, it's," Derek stepped closer slowly, leaning in just enough into Stiles's personal space to not make him uncomfortable but close enough to get a good whiff of the insulting aroma. "You smell like-" Derek stopped and his face dropped a little, leaning back and eyeing a very confused Stiles.

"Never mind." He shook his head and turned the lights off as he walked out. "Goodnight, Stiles." He left Stiles standing there completely bewildered.

Derek locked himself up in his room and changed into sweats before climbing into bed. All with a deep frown dragging his features down.

Stiles smelled like arousal. Like sex. But it clearly wasn't Stiles's scent.

Stiles smelled like someone else's arousal.

Derek racked his barian all night who that prick could've been. Why was that prick all riled up and close enough to rub his lasting odor on him? Was Stiles dancing with someone at the party? Did Stiles make out with someone at the party?

At that question, his mind supplied him the images of Stiles bumping and grinding with some random dude, hands on Stiles's hips, moving and swaying with him. The creep Kissing up on Stiles's neck and lips and offering to go somewhere private.

Derek turned onto his side and shoved his head in under the pillow, hiding from the thoughts as he let himself be taken by sleep.

But that night all he dreamed about was chasing some faceless vermin through the woods; hunting him like he was nothing more than a feral wild wolf, despite still being completely human in the dream.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Danger came to Beacon Hills in the shape of Faeries.

Tiny winged spirits with a knack for trickery and mayhem. Derek wasn't sure how they ended up in Beacon Hills if they've just been migrating this way, or if someone let them loose. But people were getting hurt by their 'pranks' so they had to put a stop to it.

Tricking Faries was not an easy job in the slightest. But they managed it after a long night of chasing and fighting, finally trapping the three in silver cages and handing them over to Deaton; who swore he knew how to handle them and remove them from Beacon Hills safely.

The pack headed separate ways and most of them followed Derek back to the house. They arrived home just as the sun began to come up. Derek, still too anxious and worked up to sleep, went straight to work on the downstairs bathroom. He began preparing the grout to lay the tiles in place on the floor.

As he was checking the leveling of the pitch, he heard Stiles, "Need some help."

"Not really," Derek shrugged. It was a small bathroom, only enough room for one person to stand comfortably in between the sink and the toilet. Stiles sighed and started backing away.

Derek frowned and shook his head, not meaning to have come across as cold as he did.

"Actually, you can pass me tiles?" He offered, trying to brighten his tone. Stiles was plopped down just outside the doorway in a second. He smiled v\softly, almost unnoticeable, if it hadn't been for the fact that Derek noticed every detail about Stiles.

"You all grumpy with me for not staying behind like you said?"

"I'm not grumpy." He defended. Stiles gave him a look. "Yes." He sighed as if he was admitting to something as embarrassing as wetting the bed until you're fifteen.

Stiles chuckled, watching him work.

"You're not the only one that worries about everyone you know." Derek spared him a loot while reaching for a tile. "I know I'm human, der. You don't have to remind me that I don't heal, and I'm in more danger than most of you, but I still get this feeling that if I'm not there-"

Derek paused what he was doing to sit back and give Stiles his attention. Stiles started at him for a bit before continuing.

"I want to be there to look after you guys too. We've had close calls before, and nearly lost people. If I cared any less I'd listen to you when you tell me to stay back and out of the way, but I just have thing feeling that I need to be there in case something happens."

Derek gave him a sad smile. "And what if that something happens to you?"

Stiles frowned and lowered his head, shrugging. "If I can help, there's not really anything you can do to stop me from trying."

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "So I've learned."

Stiles chuckled and handed Derek another tile, smiling at him as he took the subtle hint the conversation had ended and turned back to laying the tiles in place. Stiles watched him intently, adoring the alpha.

"You got any plans tonight?" Stiles sighed when he was bored of the quiet.

"Back porch is fixed up, might get someone to help me put together the table, and cheers I ordered. Maybe fire up the grill?"

"That sounds fun." Stiles nodded, a look on his face like he was considering his options.

"You got a better idea?" Derek teased, because Stiles always had something to say about the activities Derek came up with.

"No, I just," He paused and thought to himself a moment. "I met this dude at the party the other night, and he texted me earlier asking if I'd be down to meet up later tonight."

Derek's heart sank a little. Oh, that prick.

"Oh," Derek nodded. He didn't wanna ask questions, he didn't wanna know. So Stiles just nodded.

"If it doesn't take too long I'll swing by after." Stiles delivered the empty promise with a grin. "Save some food for me."

Derek only nodded.

Stiles never showed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Derek was in a bad mood.

Everyone in the house felt it and kept to their best behavior.

He didn't scowl or glare, he didn't yell or stomp around, he just kept his head down and mouth shut.

It was a Thursday night, and his betas had come over after the Lacross game like they always did. Boyd having joined the team, came along with the other players plus Erica, after every game. Although Jackson never showed, he only made an appearance when Lydia did.

Except tonight was different. Stiles hadn't come.

Apparently, Stiles was invited by the guy he met at the party to hang out after the game. A date.

He got all this from Erica who told him with a look of pity and confusion etched into her feature. Derek said nothing, just nodded, and went on making dinner for those who did show.

After eating they settled into the living room and watched a movie Derek wasn't paying attention to. He'd been on autopilot half the night, stuck in his head wondering about where Stiles was and what he was up to.

He didn't understand why he felt sick in his gut that Stiles was out with someone else.

It just made him feel dizzy with something he didn't have a word for. Every time he pictured Stiles laughing at the guy jokes, playing footsy under the table, holding hands on the walk back to the car, kissing on his front step- his chest tightened painfully.

He knew what this disgusting feeling was now, and he felt pathetic for it.

Derek stood and without a word went up to his room and crawled into bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Summer break had officially arrived and Derek was having the boys help him set up the pools in the back yard.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the past few days and it's been both wonderful and absolute agony. He was grateful to have a break from seeing Stiles's smile and shining eyes, hating knowing it was never for him. But he missed it all the same.

Either way, the space between them allowed Derek the room he needed to rebuild his walls. If Stiles was dating this other guy fine, Derek hadn't had a chance anyway. He'd very his heart and settle for just being pack.

The girls sat on the front steps far enough away from the guys on the other side to not hear their conversation. Even with super wolfy hearing.

"So, what happened?" Allison eyed the two who clearly knew more than she did. Both of them are closer to Stiles and Derek, respectively. "I was under the assumption they'd be giving us invitations to the wedding by graduation."

Erica chuckled sadly, "I don't know. But you should've seen Derek when I told him Stiles ditched us to go hang out with Markus."

"I don't know what's gotten into Stiles," Lydia grumbled, she hated being left out of the loop. "Just last month I was giving him advice on how to woo a man. Mind you, Markus was not the man I thought he'd be running off to woo."

"I don't think anyone thought that." Allison sighed.

"It's weird," Erica grumbled. "The past few days honestly feel like my parents are divorced. I only see either or, Stiles gets us on the weekends." Lydia laughed.

"How does that work?" Allison questioned.

"I don't know," The blonde shrugged leaning back on her hands. "I've never really asked. But it's all sort of instinctual. Like Derek is the alpha, he gives orders and dishes out punishments. Stiles is there to comfort our wounds and give Derek a smack upside the head if he's too hard on us."

"Instinctual?" Lydia grimaced. "Wait, like even your wolf thinks Stiles and Derek were on the road to being a thing?"

"Well," Erica sat up and frowned. "Honestly, before Stiles ran off with Merkus after the game and I told Derek about it, I thought they already were. It just made sense. Isaac said something a little while ago when I came over cause 'Mom and Dad are fighting again'. We all just kinda felt it I guess."

"Huh," Allison thought. Lydia smiled, the other two girls eyeing her suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked carefully.

"Oh," She smiled watching a blur jeep pull up the driveway. "Right on queue. Follow my lead ladies."

The two spared a look at each other before watching Stiles climb out of the jeep plastic bag in hand and a box-taped shut- under his arm.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Stiles eyed the house while approaching the girls.

"Outback." Erica supplied with a nod of her head.

"Surprised to see you showed up." Lydia offered, standing and going inside without giving him a chance to respond.

Allison followed without a word and Erica, slightly confused, gave him a quick look before rushing to follow. She didn't understand what Lydia's plan was but he didn't exactly wanna be left alone with him. She was not a fan of awkward situations.

Stiles stood there slightly hurt and very confused.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked following the girls into the kitchen. "What did I do now?" He busied himself unpacking the baked goods into the snack cupboard and the sunscreen he'll be needing later on the counter. He took a second to tuck the box off the side in the corner out of the way.

"It's nothing, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as though she was more hurt than anything else. The other two followed her mellow demeanor and avoided looking at Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles groans, getting a little paranoid. "So either I did something stupid and you're angry with me, or I did something really stupid and hurt your feelings?"

"Stiles," Lydia warned, lifting her hand to stop him from talking. "I don't wanna talk about it here, it's not my place."

"Heh," Stile let out a dry chuckle. "Since when is it not your place to talk about things I did to hurt you?"

"Cause you didn't exactly hurt me." Lydia put up a good front of being frustrated and emotionally exhausted.

The two were so focused on each other, that no one but Allison saw Erica's eyes widen and head start to shake as she motioned to the doorway leading out the back of the house.

"So I did do something stupid and hurt someone's feelings." Stiles nodded like he was finally getting to the bottom of it. "What happened?"

"Stiles," Lydia gave him a firm glare like it was supposed to be obvious what he did. Stiles just freaked out a bit at the knowing accusation in her tone and shrugged exasperated. "You broke things off with Derek!" She said louder than she really needed to.

Stiles blinked, obviously confused. "What?"

Erica cleared her throat, making the two look towards her and Allison who just started at something over their shoulders shifting awkwardly.

Stiles, mouth still slack with complete and utter confusion followed their gaze and looked to see Isaac and Derek standing there looking just as awkward. Well maybe, that was more Isaac.

"Um," Isaac cleared his throat daring a glance at Derek who stood completely still and stoic. "Pools ready."

Stiles looked around at each face in the room, all of them looking at him with uncertainty and then to Derek with sympathy.

"What?" Stiles asked again more exasperated. He gave everyone a look one last time before addressing the room as a whole, "There wasn't ever any breaking things off, me and Derek were never together."

"You weren't?" Issac asked completely unsure, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Yea-" Stiles rolled his tongue along his lips and put his hands on his hips like an offended mother. "I think I'd remember being all up on that." He motioned to Derek who only raised a brow.

"Oh," Isaac nodded, still unsure. "You hen you and Markus... " He trailed off.

"Huh," Now Stiles looked really offended. "As if."

Lydia laughed at the unintended reference before she quieted herself and motioned the girls to ditch the awkward air with her. They all, as though if they moved too fast someone would be angry, stepped out into the hall and went the long way around back, through the front door.

"What is happening?" Stiles looked to the two completely bewildered as to where any of this was coming from all of a sudden.

"Um," Isaac looked to Derek who hadn't moved an inch. "I'm gonna-"

"Hold it!" Stiles raised his hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Isaac stopped in his attempt to back out of the room, frozen in place. "What the hell is all this drama about?"

"Um-"

"Say 'um' one more time, I'm gonna burn your scarf."

"Wh-" Isaac pouted for a moment before awkwardly shuffling between his two feet. "We kinda all thought you and Derek were, um-" He froze and dared a glance at a very unamused Stiles and an increasingly amused Derek. "Together, and you've been spending a lot of time with that Markus guy so we figured you two split-"

"That's enough." Stiles waved him away. Isaac was grateful and ran out back without a second glance.

Stiles sighed, facing Derek with a blank stare. Derek looked even more amused about all of this now that everyone was gone.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't realize that's the conclusion the pack came to." Was all he said.

"Well, we should probably make some things clear before the kids side with you in the divorce." Stiles scored playfully trying to hide his nervousness. He really didn't expect this to be the way he ended up addressing his and Derek's relationship.

"You think they'd take my side?" Derek raised a brow. "You're the one that spoils them."

Stiles just laughed, it's all he could do. They were standing ten feet apart, dancing around the subject.

Derek took a whiff of the air and smiled at the scent of stiles that became more and more permanent every time he came over. If it weren't for the past few days, and Isaac living here, Stiles was here the most out of everyone.

"So," Derek tried to think of the jerk's name, "Markus, you guys aren't," He made and gesture with his hands, looking away from Stiles.

"No, god no."

"Right," He nodded, "Cause when you came home from that party, you smelled like. . ."

"What?" Stiles tilted his head. He remembered being left in the dark room wondering what made Derek look so uncomfortable, and actually a little angry. He had a hard time trying to sleep cause his mind kept asking questions.

"A stranger, and sex." Derek put it bluntly. Stiles's eyes bulged out of his head and Derek almost laughed.

"What? No," Stiles recoiled in shock, not expecting him to say that.

"Then you started leaving us behind to go hand out with this guy you met at the party." Drek shrugged.

"The dude I met is not-" He stopped himself from saying the word, it sounded too absurd. "I met Markus, he was DD'ing for his friends, we got to talking. He offered to pay me to help him study. That's it!"

Derek nodded in understanding. He didn't need to hear Stile's heartbeat to tell that was the truth.

"Must have been a good amount of money for you to ditch the pack twice," Derek said, not really making it a question. Stiles chewed on his lip as Derek approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What?"

Stiles sighed turning to grab the box and placing it on the island and slinging it over to Derek. "The allowance I get from Dad every now and then wouldn't have been enough."

Derek stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the box curiously and carefully opening it.

"It's just a housewarming gift," Stiles shuffled in place, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek looked down in the box at stacks of plates and bowls, cups, all individually wrapped. Derek took a plate and gently tore it free from the plastic wrap, examining the intricate royal blue patterns along the edges, and the vibrant red and yellow flowers painted in the center. The flowers are arranged in the vague shape of a wolf, with leaves surrounding it like a nest. The dish was glossy, polished, and shinny, and smelled of somewhere old but clean. turning it over he saw painted in very neat handwriting, "The family is One of Nature's Masterpieces. Proberty of Hale, made by A. Bartosz."

Derek looked up to Stiles who started at the plat in his hands.

"Um, they're hand-painted, I went to a place out in Allens Town. A polish place. You've been using paper plates and stuff so I figured," Stile trailed briefing a look at Derek before returning his gaze to the plate. "In Poland, there's a belief that the beauty of the dish enriches the flavor of the food. You're always cooking for everyone so I thought-" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

Derek carefully set down the plate and walked around to Stiles who was still looking anywhere but him.

Next thing Stiles knew, he was warm. Really warm. Warm around his waist from Derek's arm, warm in his cheek where Derek held, warm on his lips where Derek kissed.

Stiles melted against him with a relieved sigh. It felt like he was in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream the never thought would come true, no matter how many times Lydia told him to go for it.

He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on Derek's chest, one sliding further up to the base of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was fairly certain Derek knew it based on the rumble of laughter in his chest. But he followed Derek's lead and soon found a rhythm that made Stiles's knees weak.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles straight-up whined in protest, earning a chuckle from the alpha.

"Thank you," He smiled softly stroking Stiles's cheek with his thumb.

Stiles was giddy at the affection, smiling dreamily up at Derek. It made something in Derek stir back to life. The walls he tried to build back up the past few days crumbled down around him as Stiles pushed up into another kiss, hands coming up around his neck and into his hair. Derek hugged and his waist and pulled his impossibly closer, sighing in contentment.

"No," They heard a sudden shout, pulling apart and looking to the back door. Erica was moving away with her back to them heading back into the yard. "They're busy eating each other faces!"

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned. Derek only chuckled turning back to Stiles and pulling him back in.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[ashlynlovestlou]

Hey lynnie!! I was wondering if you could maybe right a fic about reader that does sh and relapses and gets comforted by abby??

hi ml!! of course i can, i hope this is okay

cw: self harm , explicit details about cuts , comfort! abby , use of pet names , reader has she/her pronouns

a/n: DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU. this is an extremely touchy subject, and i sincerely apologize if this is offensive or insensitive. if you need help or someone to talk to, my dms or inbox are always open, and there's a list of helplines tagged below.

masterlist

it was pure mistake. the urges usually weren't that strong, and you usually knew better than to give in to them. but after a rough morning, you felt helpless.

usually it wasn't that bad. they were always surface scratches, fading away quick enough so that nobody noticed them.

and of course abby knew. she noticed them one day while you were at her apartment, doing the dishes after baking with her. it was over the holidays and it was cold outside, so naturally you were wearing long sleeves. while you were doing the dishes she found it odd that you didn't roll your sleeves up. your clothes were turning dark from the dampness of the sink water, and it bothered abby.

"why don't you roll your sleeves up, baby?" she asks with a small chuckle, dropping a dirty mixing bowl into the sink.

you had laughed nervously, "cause it's cold in here."

"aw." she said as she pressed a kiss to your temple. her hands had been dangerously close to your sleeves, "want me to turn the thermostat up?"

but before you could respond, she was rolling your sleeves up for you. everything stopped when she saw the cuts on your arms. breaths were held. hearts didn't beat. eyes didn't blink.

after that she spent an hour talking to you about it, asking you questions while she tended to your wounds. you had never seen your poor girlfriend so upset and so worried about you.

she made you vow never to do it again. which you thought was going to be easy.

until today.

now your arms were so red there was blood dripping down to your elbows. your body shook and shook and shook. like you did it when you weren't thinking clearly, and now it was suddenly hitting you that you went overboard. so overboard, in fact, that the sight made you sick to your stomach.

your skin was red and swollen, and the tips of your fingers were tingling. the fresh cuts had overlapped the old ones, blood tricking all around your wrists and elbowsz

your first instinct wasn't to wash off the blood or bandage it up, but to call abby.

after three rings she answered, "hey, baby. i'm at work, can i call you back on my break?"

just the sound of her voice put tears in your eyes. you knew she was going to be upset.

"i need you." you manage to choke out, your voice breaking as a hiccup escapes your lips.

"whats wrong, sweetheart?" she asks, and you can hear the faint clicking of a keyboard on the other side of the line. she's working on her computer, typing away as she's blissfully unaware what her girlfriend had done to herself.

"i relapsed."

the words make her breath catch in her throat. all of the noises stop, a sharp inhale being heard. abby herself felt like crying, because it hurt to know her love had cut herself again.

"okay... it's okay. don't panic and don't move, alright? i'll be there as fast as i can." she says in one breath before hanging up.

within ten minutes abby was at your front door, fishing out the key you gave her a few months into dating. she let herself in, seeing you on the couch, completely still. you hadn't moved, just like she asked.

she sinks to her knees in front of you, her gaze never once leaving your eyes. you'd grown to appreciate when she would do that, as if your scars weren't the only thing that she sees. but when her gaze finally did fall to your arms, the mere sight made her heart drop to her stomach.

"oh, honey... oh, baby..." she says quietly. she didn't expect it to be this bad. maybe a few surface scratches at best. not one this significantly deep, "why didn't you call me?"

"i-i did."

"i mean when you got the urge." she says, taking your hands into her own and rubbing your palms, "call me before, not after. okay?"

you nod your head, fighting back tears as she takes out a wipe from her work bag, trying to clean up the cuts the best she can.

abby is the most tender human being youve ever met. she's gentle and knows what to do when things like this happen. often times she has to remind herself not to panic to worsen the situation, but seeing you in such a state like this makes her heart shatter in her chest.

once she's all done she cuddled up real close with you, wrapping your arms in a bandage and peppering kisses all over your face. she'll take the next few days off of work to stay with you, afraid it'll happen again if she were to leave you by yourself. once you're calmed down enough, she'll go around your apartment, confiscating anything she thinks you could hurt yourself with. but you didn't mind. even when the urges were there, so was abby.

.

.

.

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A/N: To the anon who requested a Vil, Leona, Trey and Jamil x Fem!Reader who opens a dessert shop and gives them free stuff. Idk what happened tumblr crashed and I lost ur req while writing but here it is!! I hope you see this ><

Sweet Tooth

☆Staring☆: Vil Schoenheit, Leona kingscholar, Trey clover, And Jamil viper

Synopsis: You open a dessert store and it’s pretty obvious there’s favoritism at play

Warnings: lil harmless Cuss words, some JP terms

Vil Schoenheit

You better believe he’d be the first person to promote it on social media the moment you open it

He’d be posting the desserts, the store’s comfy aesthetic, YOU working cuz he’s so proud of you he could cry

He made your work uniform and makes you look pretty every single day before you open. Periodt.

Would bring the whole population of Pomefoire there and tell them to leave the best reviews or else they might just have poison in there tea

Usually limits his intake on sweets but when you feed it to him he just physically cannot say no.

He insisted on paying multiple times but when you smile at him and say no he just shuts down and agrees

Ace and deuce would notice it though and is hella salty about it

Deuce: Y/n why does Schoenheit-senpai not pay??

Ace: It’s called pretty privileges Deuce *gives you and Vil the stink eye*

You: Correction! It’s “pretty boyfriend privileges” :)

Vil: *smirks* Stay mad~

He doesn’t insist on paying anymore but he does pay you back when you two go and dates. It’s his turn to spoil you then.

Leona Kingscholar

Three words: Smug. As. Fuck.

He would just walk behind the counter and point at the dessert he wants and you give it to him.

Doesn’t forget to say thank you and kiss your cheek though. That’s a must.

He enjoys the feeling of the first years glaring on him cuz he has boyfriend privileges😭

Would literally stand behind the counter with you while eating a cookie or a cupcake and grins at Ace and Deuce when they pay💀

Your shop is his new favorite spot to nap in, he’s always there, in fact he even “claimed” a spot for himself that only he gets to sit, sleep and stay on

Would always bring Cheka there when he visits, cuz one: he knows he’d be distracted with the desserts, and two: he can charge his brother for all the things Cheka ate

Is proud of you for being so hardworking but often pulls you away from the counter and FORCES you to nap with him.

He doesn’t like it when you over work. Usually he tells Ruggie or Jack to take over for you while you rest

Orders the entirety of Savannaclaw to go there at least three times a week and buy something or else they’ll be sleeping outside the dormitory

Would be clinging on to you when you’re baking cuz he likes it when you feed him the desserts you make and ask if he likes it.

He did want to pay but when you told him he could pay with cuddles instead he couldn’t pass off the offer.

Trey Clover

He’d be the proudest boyfriend ever. Literally the loudest person cheering in the back when it was the grand opening

Brings his family there so they can meet you taste the sweets you make. This man would brag about you for HOURS.

Bring Riddle, Chenya and Cater there too.

Helps out with baking, serving and cleaning but asks you not to pay him. Instead your smart ass came up with an alternative

He washed dishes? Boom free cake. Takes order? You make him matcha latte. Helps you out in the kitchen? You feed him ice cream.

He noticed this of course, but when you defended yourself and told him you only want him to taste the desserts you made he couldn’t debate you any further.

Would notice that Ace and Deuce were glaring at him when you gave him free stuff so the humble part of him tells them that it’s because he works along side you, but the smug side of him ALSO tells them that it’s “boyfriend privileges”

Literally loves it when you’re in work clothes and you have icing or flour in your cheek🥹 he can’t help but take pictures and set them as his wallpaper

Would always complement you. It’s either he complements your skills, or your hard work, or just tells you you look pretty from time to time.

Just feels so proud of you and so happy you’re his girlfriend.

Jamil Viper

This man would make sure you have anything and everything you need a month before you even open your store

He’d also tell Kalim cuz he know Kalim would probably buy everything and empty the store in a matter of minutes

Would take his sister there when he has time. He’d mostly brag about how great his girlfriend is to her (sibling things)

I believe this man would quite literally fight you so he can pay. Much to his demise though you keep on denying him.

Jamil: How much?

You: How much is what?

Jamil: my bill?

You: oh yeah about that…umm no.

Jamil: huh?? Wdym no?

You: I mean no you cant pay…this store has a “boyfriend doesn’t get to pay” policy.

Jamil: *puts money on the counter* take it.

You: *pushes it away* I don’t wanna break store policy baby.

Jamil: Love…

You: Yes?

Jamil: Let. Me. Pay.

You: Not. A. Chance.♥︎

Deuce: Me and Ace will take the offer-

You/Jamil: No.

Would use his signature spell on you, but you got mad at him for doing that and gave him the silent treatment for week.

You said you’d forgive him if he lets you give him free stuff. Defeated, he agrees and you happily indulge him with sweets.

You’re a smart ass but he is too. So instead of money he paid you with affection

He’d bring you water, give you a seat when you’ve been standing too long, massages your shoulders when you’re tired, kisses, would fix your hair and make it look pretty so it doesn’t bother you, and a lot more

He also takes over when you nap in the break room.

Is literally the proudest boyfriend, so if there’s anything he can do to make your job easier he’ll do it, cuz he loves you so much.

A/N: DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS!!! plus this is my second time rewriting this since first attempt was failed cuz tumblr crashed on me😭 anyways I hope the anon who req this sees it!