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atlasnessie · 1 month

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let it be known, i am incapable of love. wings of the devil — mini series

SYNOPSIS — osamu dazai is a feared man in the underworld, so why won’t you fear him the same ?

series masterlist tag list (open) — @cheriiyaya @kuro-chi69 @sleepykolya @kissesmellow21 @lilylylalil

DAZAI KNEW HE IS UNDESERVING OF LOVE.

he is incapable of such feelings, he believed. being one of the most feared demons of all the underworld, one adapts to the name and titles others give. even the whisper of his name brings shivers down other demons’ backs, imagining the horrid rumors of things the demon had done to those who had dared cross the wrong path with him. dazai’s enemies worst mistakes are to be his enemies in the first place, after all.

though, after coming down and falling onto your apartment balcony, he can’t help but let loose, even in the slightest ways. he can’t help but want to be taken care by you, a simple human who has really no interesting qualities. his tense feathered wings relax as he trots around the small apartment flat, his clothing gets less and less formal, his trench coat and dress shirt forgotten and the only thing he’s familiar with now is the t-shirts you buy him every once in a while.

why do you do this, he wonders. why bother trying to help a demon that could take and claim your soul at any given moment, at any opening that was available ? why bother care for him, bathe him, feed him, and do all these extra acts to a thing that would be sent away back to the underworld once a proper spell had been found ?

he never knew. perhaps you’re just a dumb, naive human.

”honestly, human, if i were you, i would’ve bitten off his head and serve it to the lowerclass of the underworld !”

“not. helping.” you grumbled, head in hands as you sat on your couch. you had arrived home in a bad mood, dazai puzzled out. your boss had just dumped files upon files on your desk that had to be done by the end of the week and not only that, he wanted you to train a newbie all at once. to the demon, that sounded like nothing but a lazy chore, he could flick his wrist and pens would start to write on their own and papers would be done and filled in no time, allowing him touring the newbie with a devilish smile. he could do it. but he wasn’t you nor an employee at your work establishment.

“a shame,” he sighed out, stretching and placing his arm behind you, nudging you with his knee. “if you were free at all this week i would’ve taken you out for a quick fly around the port. ‘s supposed to be quiet the sunsets, i’ve heard.”

you groaned again, rubbing your eyes and peaking them out from your fingers, brows furrowed as dazai leaned his head closer to you, a devilishly charming grin on his face.

“you’re really not helping. i’ve heard this newbie doesn’t know how to do shit.” with a sigh, you rest your back on the plush backrest of the couch, not having the mental strength to scold dazai to remove his arm away from your head.

“like i said, a shame.” dazai snickered, poking your cheeks with a clawed finger in tease. “those are what newbies are. they don’t know anything and need to follow you around like a little puppy dog.”

with a glare, dazai chuckles and raises in hands as if in surrender before dropping them down to his side, crossing his legs and looking at you with wide eyes.

“how about i just kill him. your boss, i mean. i could do it with a snap of my finger, just say the word.”

“you can’t kill him, dazai.” you cringe, a cartoonish thought of dazai biting your bosses head off was quite amusing, but you made sure not to let it show.

“sure i can ! he can die of a heart attack, i could twist his insides, make him loosing his footing while walking down the stairs, or—”

“no like, i don’t want you to kill him. i need my paychecks ..!” dazai’s shoulders slump, his toothy smile falling into one of dramatic disappointment.

“ah, you’re no fun, dear.”

the neighborhood streets of yokohama were wet and dark. it had just showered rain, the thick smell of fog engulfing a particular man’s lungs. he stood by a bus stop lamppost, puffing out a cloud of smoke, a thick cigar resting in between his fingers.

“waiting for the bus ?” a voice spoke up from amongst the darkness. the man shifted his eyes to the young adult, eyes smiling like crescents. he was taller than the man, his hair messy and unkept. his clothing were casual, something worn by a house husband or someone who works at home.

“yeah.” the man croaked, placing the cigar back between his lips. the taller individual hummed in response. there was a silence for a moment, the light flickering for a second or two as a car passes by, its wheels going over a small puddle of rainwater on the side before the stranger spoke again.

“you’re the boss of the building not so far from here, yes ? the one with the fancy pillars and open glass windows ?”

“ah,” the mans eyes shone with narcissism. he tossed his cigar away to the ground without thought and pulled out a business card from his breast pocket, handing it to the taller stranger with two hands. “why, yes i am ..! have you heard of me ?”

“i’ve heard plenty.” the stranger carelessly took the card without much thought, glancing at the front and back in pretend attentiveness before slipping it in his back pocket.

“i’ve also heard you have a newbie.”

“oh, yes. he works like a girl. doesn’t even know how to use a copy machine. i’m just hoping the mentor gets their shit together and do what they’re supposed to.” the man grumbled, waving his hands in disregard, only stopping when the stranger chuckles. the business man takes a closer look at the stranger. the light shone on parts of his face in a well manner and, he couldn’t help but admit, this man was quite the eye catcher. a model, perhaps ?

”who’s the mentor ?”

“some kid that’s been working here for a while. a charmer, for sure. doesn’t talk much so i don’t even bother.” the man dug in his pockets to grab his cigar case and lit one up again with well practice. he exhaled and continued. “i assigned ‘em some files, and i swear, that kid flipped me off or somethin’.”

“what’re you gonna do about it ?” the stranger holds back laughter and asks with feigned interest, his head leaning in closer.

“assign ‘em hell, of course !”

the bus slowly rolled up to the stop, its doors swinging open as the man spit out his newly lit cigar, dusting off his clothing and preparing to get on the vehicle.

“you’re not getting on ?”

“no, i’m … waiting for someone.”

the man hesitated and bid the stranger farewell, walking up the stairs as the doors closed behind him. as the bus slowly drove away from the stop, the man standing by the post turned by his heels and walked back from the direction he came from, snapping his fingers once gently with a devilish grin, the moonlight shining on his dark hair. from a distance, he could hear the businessman’s cries of pain, his nicotine filled lungs screeching in anguish.

“where have you been ?!”

“hush now, human ! no need to shout in the middle of the night !”

your hair is still wet from after your shower and your eyes are wide despite the time of night. dazai casually slips off his shoes and walk towards you, a smile on his face.

“i was taking a midnight stroll. isn’t that what humans do when they’re bored ?” you raise up a hand, stopping the demon from coming any closer.

“you reek of cigarettes.”

dazai blinks. he then lifts the collar of his shirt to his nose and sniffs it once before blinking again with innocent eyes. “i do reek,” he responded back. you grumble and point towards the small bathroom, your voice impatient as you demand of him to take a shower. the demon can’t do anything but chuckle and comply. it’ll be worth it by the morning.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #atlas writes !

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fuck-customers · 4 months

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Kind of a fuck customers but also a satisfying story at the same time.

My role in the call center I work in involves taking specifically corporate calls, which means I spend all day talking to “business professionals” (and I use that term loosely) including CEOs. As you can imagine, over 90% of these CEOs are the scum of the earth and the most entitled assfaces on the planet.

A week or so ago, I took a call and went through my usual routine of greeting the cardholder and then began going over verification questions. Since we’re A.) a bank and B.) a bank that handles corporate and government credit cards, we take security seriously and require a caller to be able to verify 3 pieces of information based on what the person responsible for their credit cards put on the account. If they don’t pass, we refer them to their company to get the right details.

So as I’m doing this, the guy on the phone is getting increasingly irritated as he keeps getting the security questions wrong. I’m calm and professional the entire time but firm. Eventually I run out of things to verify with him and tell him that we won’t be able to assist and that he needs to contact his administrator. This is apparently where I went wrong.

“LADY I AM THE ADMINISTRATOR!!” He screeches. Ok, great. I look him up and that’s true but there’s a second admin listed, so I ask him to check in with him. He then yells “THERE IS NO OTHER ADMIN! I’M THE CEO OF THIS COMPANY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!”

I apologize and tell him while that may be true, he still got his security questions wrong and needs to reach out to his account coordinator then. This man then proceeds to scream at me for the next minute or so saying how we’re an awful bank, how he’s had problems with us for years, blah blah and how we have the worst customer service ever. Keep in mind, I’ve been nice and empathetic this entire time but also I’m not gonna lose my fucking job just because a guy in a suit doesn’t know his shit. I give him the email to his account coordinator and stress again that he needs to talk to them. Then this exchange happens:

Him: “So let me get this straight. You are saying you are REFUSING and UNWILLING to help me, right?

Me: “No, actually I’d love to help you, however we have these security procedures in place for yours and your company’s protection and cannot make exceptions for anyone.”

Him: “This is fucking UNBELIEVABLE! I’ve HAD IT with this bank!!”

Me: “Ok, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything else I can do for you before we disconnect?”

Him: “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I NEED YOUR NAME. NOW.”

Me: *gives my first name and spells it for him even though it’s a very basic 4 letter name because I’m a bitch*

Him: YOUR LAST NAME.

Me: “We don’t give out anything but our first name for the safety of our employees.”

Him: *insert that condescending, pissed off chuckle middle aged men do when they’re mad here* “Well I’ll tell you what (My Name), when I close this account and pull my MILLIONS OF DOLLARS out of (bank name) and they ask me why, I’ll make sure to tell them that it’s (My Name)’s fault. And I will see to it that you won’t be able to get another job outside of the minimum wage fast food job or whatever you had before this. How does that sound?”

Me: “Sounds great. Now seeing as how this conversation is no longer productive or professional and threats are being made, I’ll be terminating the call, have a nice day.”

Him: “DO NOT HANG UP O-“

Me: *click*

And that’s how making rich, powerful men rage-cry became my new favorite hobby. Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any feedback on that call; not that I would, seeing as how I did my job exactly how I was supposed to. Anyways I hope I’m his 13th reason. ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney.

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

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— when you play secret santa

Masterlist.

Warnings: kinda angsty, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

There are a multitude of things Bakugou Katsuki hates about the festive period. The freezing temperatures that make it difficult to use his quirk and leave him shivering on patrols, the fake hallmark bullshit that corporations try to sell during the holidays (he deliberately refuses any Yuletide collaborations for this exact reason), the way people seem to only care now it’s Christmas, the crowds and one of the worst things…

Forced fun.

Every year the Dynamight agency arrange a secret Santa, and every year Bakugou refuses to participate. Just another bullshit, meaningless waste of time during the festive period, and he never has any idea what to get anyone anyway.

But this year is different, because this year you worked at his agency. Bakugou groans as he looks down at the piece of paper with a name scribbled on it, his secret santa.

When you asked him one evening as you were leaving if he was going to participate in the secret santa event, he was going to reply with a scoff. Wondering why on earth you were asking him such a ridiculous question, what would give you the idea that Dynamight would want to do secret santa? But it was the adorable, hopeful look in your eyes that had his throat going dry and his heart palpitating as he stopped dead in his tracks. The words leaving his lips before he could even stop it— yeah, I am.

Bakugou hated the way your cheeks seemed to glow at his response, how happy you looked that this year he would be participating.

And that’s why he now found himself with a piece of paper in his hands with a name that wasn’t yours.

He didn’t even know who the fuck it was! Apparently after searching his employee database it was a lady in admin. Now stuck with trying to find a workplace regulation gift in between the long holiday shifts, maybe he’d get one of his sidekicks to get a gift for her instead.

How foolish he’d been to think that he’d get your name, that after all the shit he’d been through in his life that fate would grant him a free pass this once and give him the gift of you. But as always, the odds were against him. Crumpling up the piece of paper with a groan as he threw it onto his desk, tugging his glasses off to rub the balls of his hands into his eyes.

But perhaps he could swap with someone…

Finding out who had you was proving near impossible, it had been easy to get his sidekicks to announce to him who they had for the secret Santa, but everyone else in the agency was proving to be rather tight lipped. Whether it was the fear of their boss, or the fact that one of them may have him, he’d near but given up hope of swapping to get you.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, Bro.” Kirishima shook his head as he tucked into his bento box, a mouthful of rice slurring his words.

“I don’t give a shit, who ya got?” Bakugou pointed his chopsticks holding a piece of Gyoza towards Kirishima before shoving it into his mouth.

“I can’t tell you! It’ll ruin the whole thing,” Kirishima shook his head, “What if I’ve got you?”

“You ain’t got me.” Bakugou knew who had him already, it was a poor man from the cyber security department who seemed terrified when he’d revealed the big secret to the man himself.

“How do you know?” Kirishima sat back in his seat, “Man, this is why you never participate isn’t it? You don’t like fun.”

“I like fun,” Bakugou scrunched his nose in mock offence, “I hate surprises.” He mumbled, and truth be told, he hated not having you more.

“Well, I’ve already bought my gift so I can’t switch.” Kirishima grinned and Bakugou raised a surprised eyebrow.

For how generous and altruistic Kirishima was, he wasn’t usually this prepared. Often ignoring deadlines and leaving things until the last minute which would often result in him racing around like a headless chicken.

“Why don’t you just get her a gift anyway, man? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I can’t do that.” He shot back, glaring across the table.

There was no way he could get you a gift out of the blue, even if it was for Christmas. Being the only person in the agency outside of the secret santa that he’d purchased a gift for would make it completely obvious that he’s in love with you, and the thought of your rejection made him blanch.

“Yeah, you can.” Kirishima continued, “You were gonna get her something if she was your secret santa anyway, so what’s the difference?”

It was a huge difference, it would mean the gift he’d give you separately was far more personal… Even if he would’ve gifted you the exact same thing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Just wait it out man, and think positive. She might have you!” Kirishima smiled as he took a long sip of his protein shake.

The thought of you holding a piece of paper with his name on it had Bakugou feeling all giddy inside, trying to stop the ridiculous smile from tugging on the side of his lips as he pictured you going out to shop for a gift for him. Wrapping it and writing his name on it to gift it to him on Christmas Eve.

It was the only thought keeping him sane the closer it got to the day, finally acquiring his gift late after one patrol as he bought an obnoxiously Christmassy gift bag to place it inside as he brought it back to his agency. Scribbling the recipient onto the tag as he left it with the other gifts sitting beneath the outlandish tree. Bakugou wanted to look for your name in the huge pile, wondering if he could find out who actually had you or what the gift was but instead he made his way to the locker rooms. Tired bones aching from his arduous patrol as he made his way to shower before the annual Dynamight agency Christmas party, refusing to wear a Christmas jumper as he opted for a plain cable knit burnt orange sweater instead.

Turning up to the party late meant that most people had already opened their gifts, the loud bustle hitting him as he weaved through the crowds. Reaching out to grab a flute of champagne as he took a healthy sip as he gave polite nods to his staff that wished him a “Merry Christmas” as he walked through, not wanting to make it obvious that he was looking for you.

Giving up as he spotted the familiar red mop of his best friends hair hidden beneath a bright red Santa hat as he made a beeline towards him. Bakugou’s heart instantly sped up when he noticed who was standing beside him.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you seemed to hang on Kirishima’s every word. Handing him the glass you were holding as he handed you a gift in return. Was Kirishima your secret Santa all along?

The familiar ache returned to his chest at the sight, something he’d never experienced until he met you. His adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you slowly begin to tear open the messily wrapped present. He could make out the garish paper from across the room as Kirishima leaned in to gage your reaction, a huge grin on his face.

Bakugou couldn’t even be mad that Kiri got you as a secret Santa and didn’t tell him because the way your face lights up at whatever Kiri got you makes his heart palpitate. You’re so beautiful.

But he can’t avoid the hurt that aches in his chest or the way he feels his throat tighten as he watches how happy another man has made you, wishing it was him that made you look that happy instead.

Lifting his glass up to his lips he downs the rest of his champagne before placing the glass back onto the table, ignoring the lone present sitting beneath the large Dynamight tree addressed to him as he makes his way out of the room, his head down to avoid catching anyone’s gaze as he leaves.

Maybe he should’ve got you a present after all.

But if Bakugou had stuck around the office party, he would’ve seen what Kirishima gifted to you as your secret Santa, and the real reason why you were smiling. The horribly wrapped gift was actually a framed photograph of you and Bakugou at a press interview for Dynamight’s agency. Your eyes gazing up at him in adoration as you both smiled softly at something the other had said while you both acted like you were the only two in the world.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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radioisntdead · 10 days

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Hello hello for the third time!!

Once again, your fics absolutely BLOW my mind away!! And I'm here to request just a silly fic with Angel Dust (platonic) and a feral!child reader, who always gets into trouble with his workplace and the hotel?

(I mostly just wanna read Valentino be shit on lmao)

Yours Truly,

- XIN 💠

(P.S, I RLLY WANNA BECOKE UR FRIEND OMG)

Good evening my dear! You requested this at the perfect time because I had to stop the feral child I am related to from running over the elderly with a grocery cart so that's definitely going to play into this not the hitting the elderly with a cart but the general vibe, ALSO THATS SO SWEET OF YOU TO SAY, I'M OPEN TO FRIENDSHIP JUST MESSAGE ME ON HERE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF I MESSAGE YOU FIRST IT'LL BE FROM THIS BLOG OR MY MAIN ONE (I've been on Tumblr for like 5-6 years now and I still don't know how it works) YOU WILL GET ME YAPPIN' ABOUT HAZBIN, SENDING RANDOM SNIPPETS OF MY WRITING WITHOUT ANY CONTEXT AND MILDLY ODD EDITS OF SOUP

@fuck-this-shit-xin

Favorite babysitter

(Or alternatively Valentino gets beat by a child)

Angel dust & child reader, platonic!!!

Warnings:

I got carried away, Valentino loses a wing and both Antennas, nothing graphic surprisingly no unholy jokes mainly because the reader is a child, this is a shorter one, mild OOC

Angel dust didn't mind children, he preferred not to be around them because well, he wasn't the most child-friendly person to be around

However it was just his luck that the hazbin hotel's resident feral child had decided he was their favorite babysitter.

You had shown up one day at the doorstep of the hotel with a note taped onto you just saying 'Good luck '

It was suspected you were some type of bomb at first but that quickly was pushed aside when it was found you were just feral, you weren't a bad kid you just didn't listen, climbed onto the walls, tabletops, bit into things you weren't supposed too but you could be a very sweet kid, playing with the Egg Bois, helping Charlie by drawing, helping Husk dry the glasses or hunting down roaches with Niffty,

That last activity had been banned since you almost stabbed one of the Egg Bois.

You were a very sneaky and little clingy thing that was evident with you latching onto his legs at random times, sometimes he wouldn't even notice you until it was pointed out or he looked down and bam! There you were wrapped around him like a baby possum sippin' on a juice box.

He made it a point to make sure someone was distracting you as he escaped the hotel to go to work, unfortunately for him Sir Pentious who was meant to be watching you was distracted by his egg minions almost smashing themselves while trying to recreate action movies and you ran after him following him through the city and into the Vee's tower, shockingly due to plot convenience you weren't noticed until Valentino was yelling at Angel dust for who knows what before any work could be done, he pulled out Angel's contract for whatever reason, maybe to make a point? You didn't really know but you didn't like that what looked like a giant dressed up purple grape was yelling at your favorite babysitter so with your little legs you stomped up to Valentino tugging on his wings that acted as a robe, he looked down in fury that quick turned into angry confusion

"Who the fuck brought their child to set?!"

Valentino shouted looking around as his employees looked around shaking their heads, a rush of pure panic rushed through Angel dust, when did you get here? He didn't even notice you? Wasn't Sir Pentious watching you?!

Before he could even get a word out you stomped your leg and pointed at him, eyes full of pure fury.

"Say sorry!"

"¿Qué? What did you just say?"

"Say sorry!"

Valentino leaned uncomfortably in, opening his mouth to say something but Angel had grabbed you in his many arms fully intending to take whatever hit Valentino could throw at you, however you had a different plan, with a large frown on your face you wiggled your way out of Angels arms and pounced onto Valentino, your little clawed hands tearing into his wings, leaving small puncture wounds behind as you climbed up him, the contract that bounded Angel dust's soul to Valentino floated down to the ground.

Valentino yelled out words you couldn't quite understand as his wings flared out, you took the opportunity to steal his hat and bite into it tearing it apart before throwing the remaining fabric onto the ground.

The unholy studio's employees could only watch stunned as you grabbed onto his antennas completely ripping them off, if he couldn't fly because of his damaged one before, he definitely had no hope of it now.

Valentino dropped to the ground screeching, arms reaching up to throw you off only for you to start crawling around his back like a little bug leaving more scratches and wounds

Angel dust once he recovered from the shock of you absolutely tearing apart Valentino tried to grab you fully intending on taking you and booking it to the hotel where you'd be safe,

Unfortunately you were freakishly strong and in angel's attempts of trying to pull you off ended up pulling one of Valentino's wings out.

"Are you going to say sorry now?"

Valentino let out a groan of disoriented pain,

That didn't sound like an 'I'm sorry' to you, so you climbed up his remaining wing and ripped a large chunk of his fluff from it, Niffty would be proud!

"¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento, solo vete!" the still disoriented Valentino shouted from the ground,

You smiled as you stood up from the overlord and skipped towards Angel dust, your eyes caught the contract that had floated to the ground, now you didn't know what it contained because you couldn't read but you assumed it probably meant something to the purple guy and so you decided that you should rip it.

"[Name] get over here' I gotta get you outta here before-" Angel dust started as you swiped the contact off the floor and ripped it to shreds, the smoke-like chain briefly appeared around Angel dust's neck before breaking apart and whooshing away.

Angel was stunned for a moment before a large grin broke out on his face, before anyone could say anything he picked you up, raised a certain finger up and shouted that he was quitting, after all Valentino didn't have his soul anymore, and frankly the work environment would be awkward now to say the least since a child had just inflicted permeant damage to his now former boss, he could find another job.

Unfortunately someone who didn't have good morals called the security team and now Angel dust was running down the Vee's tower holding you, he would pull out the guns that he kept in I assume his ribcage or something but you were right there and the gunshots would hurt your little eardrums, eventually the two of you outran them and returned into the safety of the hotel.

Angel dust sat you down on the ground as he breathed in, catching his breath while Sir Pentious rushed to you lifting you up while asking where you were before looking at Angel in confusion.

"Aren't you ssssssupposed to be at work?"

"I quit! Lil' chronic juice-o-holic over there ripped up my contract and fucked up Valentino! hAh!" Angel said still trying to catch his breath as you slipped out of Sir Pentious's hold and ran to go bug Husk for a juice box.

The news of you ripping Valentino's antennas and a wing out made hotel news, you were lightly scolded by Charlie about taking the violent route but she gave you ice cream and bought you a toy as a reward, Alastor saw great potential in you, Husk patted your head saying that you did good, Vaggie would eventually decide to teach you how to fight, you got being feral down but it couldn't help to teach you to be more calculated, Niffty was happy when you gave her the big clump of fluff for her collection, she already had some from her earlier interaction with the now antenna-less moth but more couldn't hurt!

And Angel dust, well he owed ya big time although he did scold you for following him into a dangerous place [thank goodness you didn't see anythin' unholy or Vaggie would've had his head!]

He spent a little more time with you the following week before he decided to do some job huntin', he would sneak you some candy or a extra juicebox when he could, and the two of you would watch kid friendly Disney or dreamworks movies on the hotel's TV.

Valentino laid down in his hospital room, full of fury that he got injured by a child of all things, a small child that had some type of connection with Angel dust who's soul he no longer owned, he swore that he would get payback against the child, unfortunately for him the mere presence of that child would strike enough fear into him that he wouldn't be able to make a move, and even if he could he wouldn't be able to do anything to the feral child.

He got off easy this time, he wouldn't be as lucky the next he messed with your favorite babysitter again.

Good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed! I'm working on getting the older requests in my inbox done and getting them out next week along with the 100 followers fic with Angel dust! So tune on in for that! Goodnight folks!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #Angel dust & reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader

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chelseeebe · 1 year

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dirty little secret.

NOT MY GIF!

summary: a babysitting gig at one of your dad's employee's houses leads to a filthy affair of secrets with a certain mr. harrington.

a/n: i have not proofread this one bit, i just wanted to get it posted so i could start on some ghostface!steddie hehe. i suppose this is another installment of the older!steve/mr.harrington saga though in my head they're different people.

he's a scummy scumbag but that's okay because it's sexy (don’t do this irl) smut and inappropriate relationship dynamics. r is 23/24 and steve is mid 40's ish.

it had all started fairly innocently.

a simple phone call asking if you could do some last minute babysitting. sure. easy enough.

earn some extra cash for doing absolutely nothing.

your dad had recommended you. someone who worked for him, steve or something or other, you’d met him before but that was years ago when you were much younger.

christ, you had a degree now. navigating the post-grad world. not with much luck.

the actual babysitting had been simple enough, feed the kids, put them to bed and now you could just relax.

the house was huge. obviously not decorated by a man, or at least not on his own. it was all meticulously designed, you’d never know there were kids living here. or anybody at all for that sake.

you’re lounging on the sparkling white couch waiting for this illusive steve to get back from wherever. your dad had said eleven but it was well past.

he makes an appearance at quarter to twelve, sighing loudly as he steps into the large hallway. the door makes you jump, sitting up straight on the sofa as if it were illegal to be sitting comfortably on such an expensive piece of furniture.

you peer over the back of the couch as he walks into the living room. finally putting a face to the name. you’d gone to his wedding reception so many years back, unhappy and moody as you’d been dragged along.

‘i am so sorry,’ he says, shaking his head and removing the tailored suit jacket, slinging it over a chair, ‘the dinner ran over and then it was just awful traffic.. how were they? i hope they didn’t give you too much shit,’ chuckling deeply.

‘no.. no, they were great,’ you nod, smiling weakly, standing up to gather your things and finally leave.

you couldn’t help but notice how tight his shirt was, clinging onto his defined arms. you draw your eyes away quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

‘good,’ he breathes, pouring himself a glass of whisky out of the obviously insanely expensive bottle, ‘d’you drink?’ offering a glass to you.

‘uhh.. not whisky,’ laughing quietly, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the obscenely large room.

‘it’s good stuff,’ he shrugs, still holding the second glass to you.

‘i’m okay.. thank you though,’ you nod, stepping closer to him. he smelled great. expensive.

‘fair enough,’ he laughs, taking a short sip, ‘right.. you wanna be paid,’ digging around his pocket for his wallet.

his pants also incredibly well fitted. there’s no need to mention what they were showcasing.

you give him a tight lipped smile, looking anywhere but his crotch.

his wallet is almost overflowing, stuffed with notes and various cards. you try not to gawp at the sight. your dad most definitely did not flex like this.

he hands you four fifty dollar bills, holding the pile in your palm. fingers clasping your hand. the sensation alone is enough to give you butterflies.

‘that’s too much,’ you shake your head, trying to refuse. a whole two hundred dollars to make mac and cheese and watch television.

‘no no, take it, thank you for coming so last minute, have you got a ride home? i can get you a cab?’ he nods, maintaining heavy eye contact, honestly making you squirm.

‘i drove.. thank you so much,’ placing the notes into your bag, still under his heavy gaze.

‘okay,’ he smiles, ‘i’ll uh- i’ll get your number from your dad for next time.. if you don’t mind?’

‘uhh..yeah sure.’

‘great.. thank you, again,’ his hand brushes against your arm, causing the goosebumps to rise instantly.

you give him one last shy smile and walk to the oversized front door. baffled by the things you were feeling. the small yearning feeling bubbling in your stomach. a man god knows how many years your senior. it felt wrong.

dirty.

the next time you babysit for him, he’s prepared. a bottle of fancy vodka left next to the whisky.

‘you’re a vodka girl, right? i can tell,’ he winks, a deep laugh erupting from his throat as he pours the clear liquid into a glass.

‘ahh.. how’d you know?’ you smile, not wanting to refuse the man, especially as he’d gone out of his way to get this for you.

he taps his temple, holding the drink out to you, ‘intuition..’

the conversation flows on, telling him about your degree and where you planned to go with it. him humbly flexing his own work, talking about the various connections he could make for you.

‘i know you’re robert’s daughter but i just.. i feel like i’ve seen you before,’ his eyebrows squeeze together, knee almost touching yours as his legs spread across the sofa.

‘i uh- i actually went to your wedding, the reception at least,’ you laugh, still heavily avoiding eye contact even though you could feel his eyes boring into your face.

‘oh my god, that’s right.. you were miserable,’ his laughter rumbles through the room, if the house weren’t so big you’d be worried about it waking the kids. not a chance they could hear a thing in this mansion.

‘i was.. i didn’t know you! my dad made us go,’ you giggle, just about meeting his dark eyes before quickly glancing down at his hand grasping the glass, noticing the lack of wedding ring.

he notices, rubbing the empty finger, ‘no,’ chuckling, ‘we’re not.. if you were wondering,’ you can’t tell if it’s a smirk or just his slightly tipsy smile.

‘sorry,’ you breathe, awkward that he’d noticed your attempt at subtlety.

‘don’t be.. we’re still married for now, but we’re not together,’ he nods, seemingly unaffected by the separation.

‘oh.. right,’ you chuckle, unsure of how you’d ended up discussing his divorce at midnight on a friday night. it wasn’t exactly anywhere near where you’d pictured yourself being after graduation.

‘d’you have a boyfriend?’ he asks, shifting slightly to face more towards you, still nursing the neat whisky.

you shake your head, ‘no.. not at the moment,’ staring just past him as to not make direct eye contact.

‘oh, i thought for sure someone would’ve snatched you up,’ his gaze falters, lingering on your exposed thigh, your skirt had slightly ridden up as you’d sat.

‘surprisingly not,’ weary as to whether you should pull your skirt down or let his eyes loiter. opting for the latter.

the attention was nice. unexpected. but not unappreciated. it made your stomach tight, slightly intimidated by his dark eyes.

‘hmm, that’s a shame,’ his tongue runs along his bottom lip, eyes slowly making their way up to meet yours.

you don’t know what to do. where to leave your eyes. his intense stare only worsening your composure. you’d have probably thrown yourself at him if he didn’t answer to your dad. complicating matters immensely.

‘you want another drink?’ he asks, leaning closer, shaking his own empty glass.

‘no.. thank you,’ the words struggle to come out, throat dry at the proximity of his body to yours. the smell of whisky and his cologne mixing to create an intoxicating smell.

‘sure?’ he reiterates, smirking as his eyes fall to your parted lips. mostly trying to regain air into your lungs.

your breath hitches in your throat, suddenly unable to speak, watching as he slowly moves over. cocky smile plastered across his face, relishing in your spreading blush.

he brings his face to within just a few inches of yours, pausing, ‘tell me if this is too much,’ the feel of his breath against your nose.

you shake your head slightly, almost paralysed by his eyes. it was confirmation enough for steve. his lips brushing yours softly, as his free hand moves to rest just above your knee.

your lips move with his, tasting the remnants of the expensive alcohol as his tongue glides across your bottom lip and into your mouth. a quiet gasp comes out as his fingers slide up your leg, his smirk evident against your mouth.

letting him take full control of the kiss, leaning back as his chest presses against yours. he takes full advantage of your new position, fingers creeping up your already short skirt.

you move back fully, back against the soft cushions. he doesn’t break the kiss as he moves on top, sliding between your now open legs, groaning into your mouth when your hands finally touch him.

resting on his shoulders as he manoeuvres his body, fitting perfectly with yours. he pulls back from the kiss, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, looking into your eyes for encouragement.

you haven’t enough time to process anything before his hips begin to move against yours, lips now attacking your jaw line. peppering kisses and gentle nibbles to the skin, eliciting a barely audible moan from your throat.

his hand had found it’s way to your panties, fingers rubbing against the cotton, ‘holy shit,’ he mumbles into your neck, ‘you’re already soaked.’

you recoil, burying your face into the pillow next to your head. this only makes him laugh, his body vibrating against yours as your panties are pushed aside, two fingers circling your entrance before slipping inside.

‘shit,’ you curse into the pillow, gripping onto his shirt.

his other hand comes up, coaxing your face out of the pillow with a gentle hand. when you finally emerge you can feel your cheeks heat up, his blown out pupils gazing back at you.

‘look at me,’ his voice bellows out, ensuring your attention stays firmly on him. you almost want to look away, just to see what he’d do.

there’s a small voice from somewhere up the stairs, ‘daddy,’ it whines and steve groans above you.

‘shit.. two minutes,’ he curses, removing his hand from underneath your skirt, climbing off of the couch.

you’re immediately jolted back to earth. back to mr. harrington’s living room where you were immodestly dressed. you sit up, face screwed up in disgust at your frankly whorish actions and pull your skirt down to an appropriate length.

‘fuck,’ you hiss to yourself, what the hell where you doing? screwing around with your dad’s employee who by the way, was at least double your age, was not on your cards.

you stand, frantic to gather your things and escape before he comes back down. you’d just ignore him if he called again. you could cut the loss on whatever you were owed for tonight.

you’re halfway down the long corridor when he creeps down the stairs, ‘sneaking out?’ his voice appears from behind, making you jump halfway out of your skin.

spinning on your heel to face him, every part of your body heating up with embarrassment, ‘i should get home..’

‘you don’t have to.. stay,’ he grins, walking towards you, one hand brushing against your arm.

you swallow, knowing exactly where that hand had been just minutes earlier. the feel of his bulge moving against your thigh. you almost shudder at the thought.

‘i shouldn’t..’ you manage to squeak out, mind preoccupied by what was hidden under those tight-fitted suit pants.

‘it’s late, i’m sure your dad wouldn’t want you driving at this time,’ he bargains, fingers squeezing around your arm.

‘okay,’ you breathe, relinquishing your stance, it seems it didn’t take much.

‘good,’ he nods, a smug expression overtakes his features, ‘give me two minutes,’ letting go of your arm and walking back into the dimly living room.

you stand awkwardly in the hallway, clutching your small bag and waiting for him to return from whatever the fuck he was doing. it was honestly made worse with the anticipation of what was to come. it was inevitable.

the light snaps off and he re-emerges, clutching onto a small glass of whiskey, motioning for you to climb the stairs.

you oblige as he follows closely, spare hand reaching up to rest on the small of your back.

‘ah.. i don’t think the guest bedroom has been cleaned.. i can make up the bed for you quickly if you want?’ he hushes, hand dropping to hover just above your ass.

you roll your eyes instinctively, it would seem men never grow out of the awful frat-boy tactics. he feigns shock for a brief moment before guiding you further up the hallway, towards his own room.

you hold your breath, entering the room. a large bed with silk covers takes up most of the room. he closes the door softly behind him, flicking on the lamp and setting his drink on the bedside table.

you marvel at the room, the extravagance of it all. it honestly could’ve passed as a five star hotel. he walks back over to you, running his hands around your rigid frame. unexpected overcome with nerves.

‘relax,’ he breathes, nudging his face into your neck, pressing amorous kisses down onto your exposed collarbone.

a small sigh leaving your mouth, which steve loves. taking it as a sign to continue, walking you over to the bed, hands groping any flesh they could.

your skirt flipped up over your ass as he continues the attack on your neck. your hands finally settling on his muscular shoulders, clinging on to his white shirt as you're dipped back onto the bed, his body climbing on top of yours.

'wow,' he mumbles, muffled by the crook of your neck, hands roaming the length of your body, 'so pretty.'

his large palm glides up, lifting your shirt with it, the cold air immediately leaving goosebumps over the exposed skin. only worsened by his soft fingertips trailing along behind your shirt, breaking apart long enough to pull it over your head.

your mouth falling open when his lips find their way to your neck once again, sucking on the tender skin. your fingers absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt, defined shoulders peeking out as you gently tug it down his arms.

moving down to rid him of his pants, not ignoring how big he already felt under your palm, wondering if you'd even be able to take him all.

'y'sure about this?' he asks into your neck, fumbling with your panties as your hand tries and fails to undo his belt buckle.

you nod, cheek brushing against his mess of hair still buried in your neck. he reappears, gazing down at you as your fingers continue to fumble with the expensive, over-complicated belt.

you finally unclasp the metal, gasping as his cold hands brush against your thighs, fingers finding their way to your sensitive clit, circling around, causing a hushed moan. terribly aware that his children were not too far from you.

‘j-jesus,’ you mumble, sliding down his tailored trousers and rutting your hips against his, feeling his already very erect cock against your centre.

he’s still staring down at you, inches away from your face, unable to decipher the look on his face, a mix between animalistic desire and lust.

your legs lock around his torso and he wastes no time in aligning himself with your entrance, only breaking eye contact to look down at the space between your bodies before sliding in, a raspy moan vibrating from his throat.

hand sliding from the back of his already moist neck, down onto his shoulders, his shirt half-off as he thrusts in and out, pressing his forehead against yours. it feels incredibly intimate, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, the sounds of his balls slapping against your drenched cunt.

your head falls back onto the pillow, hair splayed out around you, rhythmically slamming into you. eyes fluttering closed when his thumb finds your sensitive clit once more. he grins when your hips buck against his in instant approval.

'yeah? y'like that?' he breathes, slowing his pace as you clench around him, nearing your climax. you can't open your eyes to look at him, the immense feeling of pleasure growing in your lower abdomen.

his gruff groans only accelerating your orgasm, 'sh-shit,' you babble, digging your nails into his skin as you reach your peak, waves of hot pleasure running through your body, thighs squeezing his torso, pulling him deeper as you writhe against him.

a series of expletives tumble from your lips, loosening your grip on his skin as he continues thrusting into your now sensitive cunt. the sound of your sweet moans pushing steve to his own orgasm, hips stuttering with his final few strokes before pulling out, painting your thighs with his load.

his mouth hangs open as he catches his breath, running a hand through his damp hair, watching as you come back down to earth. you brave opening your eyes, catching his amorous stare, a small smile overtaking his face.

you're unsure of how to feel, slightly embarrassed, still laid bare on the cotton bedsheets, scrambling to cover yourself as he reaches for a previously discarded towel. cleaning the mess he had made on your skin.

'well.. i'm glad you didn't sneak out,' he simpers, removing collapsing onto the bed beside you, fully removing the half-undone shirt from his body.

'me too,' you attempt to contain the smile on your face with the pillow, though it doesn't really work, exposing your smugness.

he sits up slightly, peering over you to the alarm clock on the bedside table, 'it's late, y'should probably just stay here.. just say i got back super late,' falling back onto the mattress.

you nod, not wanting to defy his suggestion. not that you wanted to leave anyway, fairly happy to stay right here with him.

steve pulls the satiny covers fully over the both of you, turning on his side to face you. dimly lit by the definitely overpriced lamp in the corner of the room. his hand comes up to your waist, pulling your body into his.

you're clueless as to how this had all transpired. now in what was technically your bosses bed, falling asleep in the older man's arms with no idea how you'd explain this to your dad in the morning.

steve's lips wake you in the morning, his stubble brushing against your shoulder as you blink, remembering where the hell you were.

you hadn't woken when he'd got up earlier to get his kids ready for school, probably for the best. not wanting to answer questions as to why their new babysitter was still here in the morning, dressed in their dad's shirt.

'good morning,' he breathes, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, strong arms snaking around your waist.

'hi,' you respond, slowly coming to, relaxing into his embrace.

'nancy's taken the kids to school.. we've got a little time before i've gotta work,' you can feel his smirk, wandering hands already finding themselves between your thighs.

'your ex-wife was here?' sounding slightly panicked, knowing deep down that whatever had happened last night would land the both of you in serious trouble.

steve picks up on your worry, planting a wet kiss to your shoulder, 'don't worry.. she just picks them up, we're good,' reassuring you only slightly.

before you can dwell on the thought too much, his erection presses against your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. you giggle, moving your leg to allow further access.

not quite sure what exactly was going on but absolutely elated to be involved.

your dad always had an extravagant party for his birthday. like, unnecessarily big with far too much money poured into it. you’d had to miss the last few years as his birthday fell in finals week.

the last time you remember going was when you were seventeen, you’d sat in the corner for the entire night watching as everyone danced and got drunk. wishing you could’ve been literally anywhere else in the moment.

this year, you’d have to go and deal with the fact steve was also there. in his best suit with those sickly fitting pants, hair perfectly styled and smelling like that intoxicating cologne you loved.

and you’d have to do it all without giving any inclination as to what was going on between you. it was about to be the hardest night of your life.

steve had even helped you pick out your dress. obviously opting for the most revealing option, trying to play it off as just liking you in black. you’d sworn there was a teenage boy alive inside of that man.

the last few weeks had been spent with him, mostly under the guise of babysitting. spending days at a time in his glorious house, waiting for nancy to collect the kids so you could leave his room. indulging in luxurious breakfasts, sharing clothes and enough sex to keep you satisfied for life.

not without plenty of gifts, hand-crafted pieces of jewelry and god knows how many bright bouquets of flowers now littered around your room. even adorning the beautiful diamond necklace you'd received last week, tonight.

your sister had questioned the sudden abundance of gifts but you'd carefully brushed her off, putting it down to some new guy you'd been seeing, she wouldn't know him.

the start of the party was absolutely fine. sipping on some rather expensive white wine, listening to your father go on and on about his life, never missing an opportunity to talk about you and your sister.

it was inevitable that at some point you would have to speak to steve. especially as you were his new babysitter and seemed to be over there a hell of a lot, working.

‘she’s great, isn’t she?’ your dad boasts, standing between you and steve.

your eyes meet his, a sight you’d actually missed all night. taking your bottom lip between your teeth, a small knowing smile on your lips.

‘yeah, absolutely.. i’d be lost without her,’ steve grins, nudging your dads arm. his eyes don’t leave yours, blood rushing to your cheeks, playing it off as just being bashful at all of the attention.

‘you’re over there enough, i’m surprised you let her have the night off,’ your dad laughs, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your arm.

‘ahh of course, she can have anything she wants,’ he clears his throat, continuing to make heavy eye contact, ‘she’s such a big help y’know?’

‘too right,’ your dad laughs, clinking his glass against steve’s.

you want to get the fuck out of there, unsure if you had the strength to not fucking pounce on steve the second your dad looked away.

the chat goes on for a little while, switching topics to unimaginably boring topics like whatever it was they did for work. steve had attempted to explain it to you, not that it was much help.

the small group disperses into their own groups and you’re left stood opposite steve, clutching onto your wine glass trying your damn hardest not to let your eyes falter to his package.

he leans in, whispering into your ear, ‘come and find me in five minutes.. there’s an empty meeting room down the hall, you’ll know which one,’ before pulling away, you suspect to go to said room.

you almost don’t want to. let him sit there waiting on his own as revenge for the flirtatious words he’d spoken about you to your dad. you don’t. obviously.

there was not a chance you could leave him be, especially not with the way he looked tonight.

besides, it was kinda fun. risky. there wasn’t much risk involved when you were at his house. other than dodging nancy in the mornings and hoping praying that the kids wouldn’t walk in in the middle of the night.

you give a quick look around, patting the older woman on the arm as you break away from the conversation you were only half-included in. trying not to trip over your feet as you exit, trying to find this meeting room.

there’s a row of almost identical doors and you want to curse him out when the last door in the corridor is adorned with a large, silver 69 nailed to the wood.

you open the door slowly, edging your way into the room when you’re pulled into the darkness. large hands grabbing at your waist holding your body against his chest.

‘oh my god,’ you say, almost too loudly, holding yourself steady as you grip onto his shirt sleeves.

‘shh..’ he hushes, you can just about make out his features from the small amount of light being let into the room. half of his face engulfed in the shadows.

‘you’re a child,’ you smirk, slightly tipsy and very much desperate for his touch.

‘i knew you’d find it,’ he chuckles, fingers digging into the fat around your waist, eager to feel the skin beneath your dress.

‘you’re not fu-,’ you’re interrupted by his lips crashing against yours, trying to pull you even closer. he’d mesh your skin with his if he could.

your hands move to cup his face, palms running against the stubble on his cheeks. jesus christ he could have you right here. you wouldn’t even care at this point.

his fingers inch your already short dress up, riding to the top of your thighs. you slip your tongue into his mouth, the one tiny bit of dominance you had in this situation.

a low groan rumbles into your mouth as one hand glides down his torso, stopping just above his belt. he manoeuvres both of you backwards, crashing into a rogue desk, fingertips surely leaving bruises as they clutch onto you.

‘we can’t,’ he mumbles, lips resting on the side of your mouth, leaving small, wet kisses as your fingers work on undoing his belt buckle.

‘we can,’ you nod frantically, aching to feel him inside of you.

the metal clanks together as you get it unbuckled, sliding a hand into his pants, palming above his boxers at his growing cock as he grunts into your mouth. falling apart at your touch.

the hallway light flickers on fully, footsteps leading up the corridor, stopping just before the room you were in. you pull your head back, eyes wide, just about seeing his worried expression.

‘well we’re about to do the cake, where is she?’ the voice you now recognise as your sister’s echoes in the hallway.

hand still comfortably dipped into his trousers as your head snaps to the door, making desperate pleas to god and anyone else above that she’d turn back around.

‘shit..’ he whispers, pulling your hand from his boxers by your wrist, distressed as your sister walks further up the hallway and back down.

you’re confident she’s back in the main hall as you exhale, relief washing over you, ‘oh my god,’ you giggle slightly, it was pretty funny now the immediate threat had gone.

steve does not share the amusement, his face straight as zips his pants back up, pulling away from you. you screw up your face in confusion, yanking your dress back down to an appropriate length.

‘jesus fucking christ,’ he huffs, tucking his shirt back in.

‘oh c’mon.. it’s fine, she doesn’t know.. no one knows,’ you frown, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to reassure him.

‘this was a stupid idea,’ jerking his arm away.

‘this was your idea,’ utterly dumbfounded by his attitude, nothing bad had happened so was the annoyance really necessary?

‘i know that- look, you should get back out there,’ he shoos you off to the door.

‘why are you being so weird? it’s fine,’ you breathe, now slightly offended that he was being so mean.

‘go.. they’re looking for you,’ patting your back, ‘i’ll slip out in a minute.’

one of the downsides to an older man definitely included his lack of a sense of humour. you didn’t appreciate having to explain simple jokes or why you found something funny. it was as if he felt the need to be serious about everything.

you shake your head as you slip out of the door, making sure the hallway was empty. there’s a lump in your throat. he still clearly thought of you as a child. someone that needed to be told what to do.

steve doesn’t make eye contact with you for the rest of the night. carefully averting his eyes when you’d try desperately to garner his attention. you don’t even notice him slip out of the door, deserting your plans to go over when the party had ended.

it all felt terribly embarrassing. not that you’d even done anything wrong. it was his idea to go to the room. nothing had even happened, your sister still had no idea anything was even happening between you.

you call him when you’re eventually home and sure everyone else was asleep. sitting cross-legged on your bed, the phone pulled over and resting on your lap.

‘hello?’ he speaks groggily into the phone. you’re shocked he’d even answered.

‘oh hello, d’you remember me?’ you reply, still slightly tipsy and now sharing the anger he’d obviously felt earlier.

he sighs and you can hear him sit up, bedsheets rustling in the back, ‘i’m sorry.. it was just- that was too close.. i can’t lose my job, you know that.’

‘nothing even happened, steve! you’re not gonna lose your fucking job,’ you snap, gripping onto the plastic receiver.

‘i know.. i just have to be careful- we have to be careful,’ once again trying to spin it as if you’d been the one to drag him into the damned room.

‘we are,’ you swallow, vision blurred as the lump in your throat reappears, ‘i know you’re scared but you don’t have to take it out on me.’

he exhales, ‘okay, i’m sorry,’ sounding only slightly remorseful.

‘i wanna see you,’ you sniff, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, ‘can i come over?’

‘it’s late,’ he notes, you can hear the sheets rustle again and the soft padding of his feet as he gets up.

‘that doesn’t answer my question,’ deepening your frown, picking at a loose thread on your shorts.

you can still hear him doing whatever the fuck he was doing in the background, ‘i’ll be there in fifteen.. round the back.’

your frown immediately disappears, ‘okay,’ putting the phone down and jumping from your bed, getting your stuff ready to go.

you’re there waiting for him around the back of your house, an empty dimly lit road. you practically ran to his car when his headlights turned the corner.

sliding into the seat, slightly damp from the rain that’d started, he looks over quickly before speeding off. not giving anyone the chance to spot you.

there’s a small silence before you speak up, ‘i’m sorry,’ apologising for seemingly nothing. it didn’t matter, really. as long as he wasn’t mad anymore.

his hand comes over, resting on your knee, ‘we just have to be careful.. i wasn’t really angry.’

‘i know,’ you nod, though you didn’t. he seemed angry enough. enough to outwardly upset you.

you swallow any feelings of dejection. he'd apologised after all. what was the issue?

steve had been awfully quiet. suddenly not requiring your services as often. being overly cautious about your relationship, calling every few days and only inviting you over when the kids were with nancy.

you’re not afraid to bring it up when you do eventually go over. he was faffing about with some paperwork, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as you sit and watch.

‘why are you being so off with me?’ you speak up, curling your feet up underneath you.

‘hmm?’ he hums, barely lifting his head to acknowledge the fact you’d just spoken to him.

you huff, ‘you’re not even listening,’ crossing your arms over your chest.

‘i am,’ he slowly tears his eyes from the paper, looking over at you, ‘what’d you say?’

‘i said, why are you being weird with me?’

‘what?’ shaking his head, looking back at the numbers on the sheet.

you want to scream. tear the piece of paper into tiny shreds and sprinkle them across the living room.

‘you don’t call me, you don’t want to see me.. i don’t understand what i’ve done,’ you frown, shifting your position to face him fully.

he sighs, long and exaggerated, ‘that’s not true, nancy’s had the kids more.. i just haven’t needed you here as much,’ shrugging you off.

‘oh, so now i’m only your babysitter? you only need me here to fuck, is that it?’

‘you’re twisting my words,’ he finally puts the paper down completely, taking his glasses off and placing them on top of the pile.

‘so what am i? your babysitter or your girlfriend? i’m getting confused,’ sarcastic as you were losing your temper. he was great at evading the question at hand.

he blinks, ‘i’m not gonna argue with you, if that’s what you’re looking for,’ rubbing his temples.

‘answer the question.’

he’d never explicitly called you his girlfriend. you’d just sort of assumed that your relationship had gone past secret hookups. what with all the time spent together, the long hours spent chatting and the occasional, far-too-expensive gifts he’d gotten you.

‘you’re my.. i don’t know, my girlfriend?’ he’s so nonchalant with it all. only pissing you off further.

it was blatantly obvious just why his previous marriage hadn’t worked out.

‘do you want that?’ you ask earnestly, narrowing your eyes at him.

‘well not when you’re like this.’

it must’ve been a skill of his, to make you feel so crazy. so guilty for just wanting some clarification on your relationship.

you’re left speechless, opening your mouth to reply but nothing coming out. you look down, trying not to let him see your tears.

‘you know how i feel about you,’ he sighs, caressing your cheek, running his thumb over the blushed skin.

you nod under his grasp, squeezing your eyes to stop them from leaking.

‘yeah? you gonna stop being silly?’ he says softly, moving in closer. your eyes meet his, watering as a rogue tear slips out and rolls onto his hand.

you felt like a petulant child. like you’d just been told off and needed to be comforted. except, you only wanted to be comforted by him. his touch being the only thing to settle you.

you’d do anything to keep that. even if it meant biting your tongue and being ignored a few times a week.

he smiles when you place your hand above his, leaning into his touch. accepting that to have this, you had to take whatever he would give you.

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negans-lucille-tblr · 3 months

Text

My Worthless Love || Part One

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn.

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: flirting, teasing, mentions of one night stands, fluff, mentions of being uncomfortable with attention, mentions of smut, watching porn, hints of masturbation, mentions of step father/daughter roleplay Part WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Hope you enjoy this flangsty mini commissioned by Tina :)

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read Parts 2-5 when you sub to my site/Patreon!

Dean’s POV

“Holy fucking shit, dude,” Dean gasps out, as he straightens up from taking his shot at the pool table and doesn’t even notice that the white ball goes nowhere near the stripe he could’ve easily potted.

“You okay there, boss?” But Dean ignores Justin for a moment, still too captivated by the girl he’s just laid eyes on, watching her seem to effortlessly glide from the doorway to the bar. “Seriously?”

This snaps Dean’s attention back to his employee, frowning slightly at the look of amusement on Justin’s face.

“What?” he pries, taking his eyes off of the blonde for a brief second to look for the girl again and make sure she hasn’t just completely disappeared into thin air; that would be just his luck.

“I know you’re my boss, but keep dreaming, man,” Justin laughs, stepping up to the table to take advantage of Dean’s distraction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean presses, frowning at him. “You think a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in me?”

“I know a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in you,” Justin scoffs. “Anyway, isn’t she like, half your age?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?” Dean asks, amused.

“Old enough to be her dad by the looks of it,” Justin teases with a smug grin, potting another ball. Dean hasn’t been counting how many that is now.

“Fuck you,” Dean grunts, mildly insulted but more so totally captivated by the pretty girl still standing at the bar, talking to the bar man who is clearly very shameless in his flirting. So Dean’s not the only man she’s having this affect on – that does complicate things a little. Competition is always a challenge. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, then go and buy her a drink and prove you wrong.”

“Good luck with that,” Justin laughs, a smug grin lighting up his face, and as Dean’s eyes land back on the pool table, he realises Justin’s almost cleared the table himself.

Dean rolls his shoulders back and tells himself to focus on the game – if nothing else to knock his cocky employee down a peg or two – and takes his turn, this time potting all the balls he intends to, until only the black remains, and he looks up to flash Justin a wink before potting it. Justin rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion, but doesn’t seem too put out that he’s lost. Justin always loses to Dean, but the kid is getting better the more Friday nights they spend playing.

“You might’ve beaten me, but I can’t wait to see you fail at the next part,” Justin smirks from behind his beer bottle before finishing it. “Y’know, she looks kinda familiar, you are okay with my sloppy seconds, right, boss?”

“If I wasn’t, there’d be no one in this state left to fuck,” Dean retorts, flashing Justin a sarcastic smile and patting his shoulder condescendingly, making Justin laugh loudly.

“Hey, I learned from the best,” Justin tries to argue back. “Fixing a car isn’t the only thing you’ve taught me, y’know.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you already had ‘manslut’ in your resume before I hired you,” Dean argues, before making his way over to the bar.

He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair before he’s gotten too close, and manages to just about slide into the gap between her and the man standing with his back to her talking to a friend. He briefly glances over at her, noticing she’s just as gorgeous, if not more, up close, and clears his throat as he waits to be served. When he catches her looking his way, he gives her a sweet smile, but she doesn’t hold his gaze long enough for him to strike up a conversation, so he thinks on his approach another minute or two longer.

His fingers begin to drum nervously on the bar top as he notices the barman approaching them, and he realises he’s running out of time.

“What can I get you?”

“Urm, two beers and… I’m feeling generous, so whatever this pretty lady beside me wants,” Dean forces a smile, mentally cursing himself for the terrible move.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she insists, “but thank you.”

Fuck.

The barman nods, moving away to get the beers, and Dean clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t wanna seem like a weirdo, just figured I’d be nice, buy a lonely lady a drink.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not weird,” she tells him softly. “I’m just still drinking this one,” she explains.

“Alright,” Dean nods, admitting defeat. He fucked it from the moment he opened his mouth. He let Justin get into his head. He doesn’t deserve to land someone like her now, anyway, even if it does mean he has to spend the rest of the evening listening to Justin tell him he told him so.

“You mean that’s it?” she presses, frowning at him.

Dean frowns back, now completely confused by what’s happening, barely thanking the barman when two bottles of beer are placed in front of him.

“Not gonna persuade me?”

“Do you… want me to persuade you?” Dean asks carefully, now completely lost.

“No,” she replies simply. “Just most men would,” she shrugs.

Dean finds his way through the confusion just enough to consider maybe he’s not completely blown it after all.

“I’m not most men, sweetheart,” he laughs, softly. “Anyway, have a good night.”

He smiles at her once again and grabs the beers, forcing himself not to look back at her reaction to his exit as he returns to the pool table and sees Justin has already set up the next game; clearly having no faith in Dean’s attempt to not be returning.

“Knew you’d blow it,” Justin scoffs, taking his beer from Dean’s grasp.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Dean replies confidently, grabbing his pool cue. “I’ll break.”

“Dude,” Justin whispers, glancing over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turns his head to see the girl from the bar approaching, outstretching her hand to offer him the beer in her grasp.

“For me?” he asks, confused.

She shrugs, playing with the straw in whatever girly drink is in her grasp and clears her throat. “Just to say thanks for not being a creep,” she tells him softly.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he nods, smiling nervously. “Urm, I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she replies, biting her bottom lip softly before glancing over at Justin. “I’ll leave you to your night.”

“No, it’s okay, Justin was actually just leaving, he’s gotta open up shop tomorrow,” Dean smiles, looking over at Justin pointedly. Justin frowns deeply and grumbles under his breath, reaching for his jacket.

“He’s old enough to be your father, by the way,” he grumpily points out to Y/N as he passes her, shooting Dean a smug grin when she’s not looking, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m not,” he insists, hoping that hasn’t scared her off.

“I’m used to older guys,” she shrugs. “So, I’ve seen you get a few good shots on this thing tonight, mind showing me a trick or two?” she asks, biting her bottom lip again.

“Sure,” Dean nods, suddenly a little nervous but a whole lot excited he didn’t screw up that badly.

Three Weeks Later

“I’m not joking, Dean, it was horrible,” she stresses, even though there’s still a laugh in her voice.

“I don’t know, it sounds pretty funny to me,” Dean insists, laughing along. She glares at him playfully, and then looks back ahead of them as they continue to walk the length of the riverside.

“Can you believe this is our third date, already?” Y/N asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

“I think Justin is in more disbelief than I am,” Dean smirks. “The guy was adamant I couldn’t get your attention at the bar that night.”

“A guy like Justin couldn’t get my attention,” she corrects, scoffing.

“He’s convinced that you two have…” Dean trails off, realising that’s a really inappropriate thing to bring up.

“Really?” she frowns. “No, I don’t know him,” she insists, shaking her head instantly.

“I didn’t think so,” Dean rushes to remedy. “I mean, I would believe it from someone like him, but I didn’t… I don’t want you to think I would think of you… I… I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. He just said he recognised you and, he can’t keep track of… it doesn’t matter,” Dean flusters.

But he’s pretty sure he’s upset her, because the smile has completely gone from her face, and now she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth in the way Dean’s learned she does when she’s anxious.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “Forget I said that, please?” he begs.

She clears her throat and nods her head, so Dean tries to relax again and focus on the great third date they were having, and all the hopes he’d had for this going finally somewhere remotely close to a bedroom. But now he’s pretty sure he’s blown that, at least.

“Oh shit,” some guy drunkenly slurs as they begin to pass a bar. “I know you!” He points straight at Y/N who suddenly seems very uncomfortable with the entire situation. “Where do I know you from?” he asks, frowning in confusion.

“That’s a really shitty way to hit on a woman on a date,” Dean calls over, laughing at the guy’s feeble attempt.

“No, I know her,” he continues to insist.

“You’re drunk, dude,” Dean points out the obvious, noticing Y/N getting more and more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention. He moves to stand the other side of her, between her and the drunk man, and puts his arm around her to offer her some comfort, before moving them on swiftly. “Are you okay?” he asks, as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Fine,” she insists, “I don’t know what that was.”

“He’s drunk, he probably just wanted to hit on you,” Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, probably,” she laughs awkwardly, nodding her head. “I just hate the attention,” she explains, hugging herself.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sweetheart, but you do get a lot of it from men. One even walked into a door earlier,” Dean chuckles softly at the memory. “I know you can’t help it, but us men go a little stupid over girls as attractive as you.” But Y/N seems uncomfortable with the praise, so Dean decides to drop it, and clears his throat. “Do you wanna go somewhere private? My place isn’t far from here,” he offers.

“Urm,” she stops, not looking him in the eye as she instead looks out over the river. “I know it’s our third date and there’s certain… expectations that come with that, but I think I wanna just go home, I’m sorry,” she tells him awkwardly.

“No, yeah of course,” Dean reassures her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that,” he insists. While it had been on his mind most of the evening, after what had just happened, he was genuinely offering her refuge and a drink, but he understands how she might have taken it, and now he feels like an even bigger idiot than he did when he brought up Justin. “Listen, I had a great night, regardless how it ends, I just want you to know that,” he tells her.

“Me too, Dean,” she smiles. “Sorry, I think I’m just tired.”

“It’s fine,” Dean insists, shaking his head because an apology isn’t necessary. “Let me get you a cab.”

He steps out towards the road and lifts his hand to flag down a cab, and as one pulls up to them, he smiles down at her.

“Thanks, Dean, I’d like to do this again if you’re still interested,” she tells him timidly.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll text you,” he nods with a small smile.

He’s surprised to see her rock up onto her toes and press her lips to his, and he kisses back for a brief second before she pulls away and gets into the cab beside them. He waves her off once she’s safely inside, and exhales heavily as he watches the cab drive away. Well he didn’t completely fuck it up, which is something he supposes, but he can’t help but think how weird it is that she gets so uncomfortable by male attention, and how reserved she seems to be regarding anything physical.

As Dean begins his walk home he wonders if maybe she’s had a bad experience in the past, or maybe she has no experience at all. She is only twenty one, so it’s not a far cry that she could still be a virgin, and it would make sense why she seems closed off about things. But Dean also can’t help but feel like there’s something she’s not told him yet, like there’s a part of her he’s yet to see, and he wonders if that has anything to do with it.

Dean sighs as he grabs a fresh beer from his fridge and begrudgingly heads towards his bedroom alone, thinking about his high hopes earlier that evening when he was leaving his bedroom, freshly showered and dressed for his date with Y/N, excited by the prospect of her coming back to his place with him. He’d even changed the bedsheets, and sprayed a lot of air freshener around the place. He’d tidied up and made sure there were condoms in his nightstand, and he’d even been out and bought the wine she had ordered the last two times they’d been on dates before. Dean had even gone as far as to not deal with the issue that arose in the shower when thinking about Y/N and what their evening might entail. He didn’t want to waste it on the shower floor, after all.

So now, understandably, he’s a little pent up.

He grabs his laptop as he heads into his bedroom and slumps down onto his bed, taking a swig of beer as he opens up the computer and spurs it to life. Like muscle memory he loads the internet and types in the first few letters of his favourite site, his laptop already filling in the blanks and all he has to do is press enter to be taken there.

Placing his beer down on the nightstand, Dean clears his throat and ensures he’s a little more comfortable in his place as he scrolls the homepage looking at the featured video thumbnails until something sticks out to him. And something finally does. Not his usual type, judging by the title of the video, but there’s something about the glimpse of the girl in the thumbnail that’s appealing to him tonight.

Summer Swallows coerced by Step-Daddy when mother leaves town

Dean’s never really been one to choose this kind of thing, but maybe he’s getting too bored of his regular entertainment, anyway. Maybe it’s about time he spiced things up a little. He clears his throat and readjusts himself once more, clicking play and watching the titles play out. Already bored, he cuts to five or so minutes in, glad it’s the trimmed version and not the full forty minute version the site is advertising if you pay for it. It cuts to an upshot of the man’s face, twisted, his lip caught between his teeth as he groans and stares down his body, and then the camera cuts to the girl playing his step-daughter, on her knees and pleasing him with her mouth, and Dean sits up straight, his eyes widening as he blindly fumbles for his cell on the nightstand and pauses the video right there on her face.

“Sammy?” he chokes out. “You won’t believe what I’ve just found.”

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

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#my worthless love #dean x reader #mini series #dean winchester #smut #angst #fluff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #negans-lucille-tblr

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 27 days

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CYOA C46 Longer Snippet

It might be a while before I can get chapter 46 updated because I'm not feeling particularly well or energised lately, but I did get one scene fully edited to a standard that I'm happy with so the least I can do is share that with you guys while you wait. I've shared a section of this already but changes have been made.

Anyway, check under the cut if you fancy it!

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Saturday 5th March, 2022, 07:53 Members: James Potter, Remus Lupin

================================

James Potter: is there a tribunal you can report employers to when they go out of their way to set employees up with random celebrities who for all we know could be high-ranking members of all sorts of illuminati-run sacrificial sex cults?

Remus Lupin: What on earth are you talking about?

James Potter: andrew garfield hasn't even WON an oscar remus he lost out to casey affleck CASEY AFFLECK how bad does a man have to be to be the most problematic brother in a family that includes ben affleck, remus?!!!

Remus Lupin: Right.

James Potter: he lost out to a man who has been ACCUSED OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT, REMUS if that's not proof that he's a talentless hack I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS

Remus Lupin: In defence of Andrew Garfield, I don't think that's a fair assessment of the situation.

James Potter: and what about the cults the illuminati cults what of the cults, remus? don't try to claim they don't exist i've spent time in la in tinseltown el pueblo i've seen that city's seedy underbelly in the flesh

Remus Lupin: I say this with love; if you ever happened to find yourself in the seedy underbelly of any city, you'd shit your pants.

James Potter: i would not shit my pants i'd be uncomfortable but i'm not incontinent and aren't you supposed to be on my side?

Remus Lupin: I am on your side, but you have a tell when you deflect your anger to the wrong target, and it's pretty much what you're doing now. You know that your mother wouldn't hurt you on purpose, and Andrew Garfield, poor as his timing was, certainly didn't do anything wrong. Neither of them are the actual problem. If you want to talk about the actual problem, I'm all ears, but I can't help you with things that don't need fixing.

James Potter: i should have had him assassinated when i had the chance

Remus Lupin: You never had the chance.

James Potter: i could have had the chance my parents have money

Remus Lupin: They have money, not mafia money.

James Potter: they might do you don't know my mum can be pretty shifty

Remus Lupin: Mate.

James Potter: no i know did you see your girlfriend's instagram post?

Remus Lupin: I didn't know you were following her?

James Potter: i don't, but i've been checking her posts in case lily showed up in any of them and please don't lecture me about how sad that is i'm aware

Remus Lupin: I have no intention of lecturing you. I saw her post, yeah.

James Potter: so you'll know

Remus Lupin: Know what?

James Potter: that she's not upset

Remus Lupin: Lily?

James Potter: yeah

Remus Lupin: You can't really believe that.

James Potter: yeah i do believe it in fact i don't think she ever was upset

Remus Lupin: I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to what you're saying, except to say that I simply don't think that's true.

James Potter: no no it is true she's not upset at all, she doesn't care about how i'm doing or how it would make me feel to see those photos if she did she wouldn't have let beatrice post them, would she? well?

Remus Lupin: I don't know, I don't think she's curating Beatrice's posts.

James Potter: she doesn't care that i'm stuck here dying for love of her, does she? because she's in fucking paris with her champagne or her baguettes or whatever else they eat over there escargot cheeses and shit she's laughing and posing for photos with a famous actor's arm around her waist as if everything is dead brilliant all of a sudden sorry remus but that's not what upset people DO

Remus Lupin: That's what a lot of upset people do. To save face.

James Potter: but SHE doesn't do that! not with me, never with me, we've always said we'd be honest

Remus Lupin: Maybe that's true, but she doesn't really have you at the moment.

James Potter: i'm right here! i'm not the one who cut her off and i'm not the one who thought we needed a break from each other that was HER, that was all her idea, i've been waiting for her like a dickhead for four days and she hasn't said a word but hey! she's over it! partying with celebrities! now that she's met andrew fucking garfield she's all cheered up and enjoying herself so good for her i guess was he all it took for her to stop giving a shit about me? she doesn't even KNOW him he is LITERALLY just some guy!

Remus Lupin: That's exactly what he is, just some guy who she will never see again after last night, and his meeting her doesn't suddenly mean that she no longer cares about you, or that she isn't upset about your fallout. I have it on good authority from Beatrice and from Lily herself that this isn't the case. In the grand scheme of things, Andrew Garfield doesn't matter.

James Potter: you'll eat your words when it comes out that they fell in love last night i saw his hand on her hip

Remus Lupin: His hand was on her hip because they were posing for a photo.

James Potter: yeah and they're probably sneaking off to some romantic parisian hotspot right now having sex on the eiffel tower

Remus Lupin: What, in front of the tourists?

James Potter: don't laugh at me

Remus Lupin: I'm not laughing. She's not with Andrew Garfield. She's been with Beatrice all day.

James Potter: then he had a prior engagement and they've exchanged numbers and they've been texting at every available second same difference

Remus Lupin: That isn't going to happen.

James Potter: it already happened why wouldn't it happen? why wouldn't he want her? the casey affleck thing aside, i'm sure he's not totally useless

Remus Lupin: It hasn't happened because the hold she has over you is not universal, much as you might believe otherwise. And because Beatrice told me what happened. They chatted sporadically throughout the evening, took a few photos and that was it.

James Potter: maybe beatrice is lying to you because lily doesn't want me to know the truth

Remus Lupin: Why wouldn't she want you to know the truth?

James Potter: because she's figured out how i feel about her and she's trying to let me down easy

Remus Lupin: Given what happened with Skylar, I doubt that she has.

James Potter: please don't mention skylar i regret everything about skylar and you might doubt, but lily's smart enough to get to the bottom of it

Remus Lupin: I think, in this case, that you might be hampered by your understanding of your side of the story. Which Lily has not been let in on. Just try to remember that you don't know hers either. Nor will you, until you talk to her.

James Potter: she doesn't want me to talk to her

Remus Lupin: She probably thinks that you don't want to talk to her.

James Potter: she's the one who asked for a break

Remus Lupin: After you started an argument. Which I don't blame you for, in case you ask me for the twentieth time. But she's had a few days to process it all now, and Beatrice says she's calmed down. Talk to her, and if she doesn't respond you will be no worse off than you are now.

James Potter: if she doesn't respond i'll be much worse off if she doesn't respond it's the end of everything

Remus Lupin: Even if it is, at least you'll know.

James Potter: even you wouldn't be this pragmatic if you were walking in my shoes right now

Remus Lupin: You're right, I have no defence for myself. The only thing I can do is advise you in the way I think best.

James Potter: heavy is the foot that wears the air jordan, i suppose

Remus Lupin: That's odd. Sirius said that you were more of a Crocs man nowadays.

James Potter: i have never bought crocs

Remus Lupin: He said you bought two pairs of Crocs

James Potter: fine, i'm going to drown him in the bath

He isn't doing well.

Sure, James has devilry enough inside him to chuck a vengeful mug of cold water over Sirius while he's lounging in the bath, and laugh loudly at the subsequent, Jaws-like thrashing (he never bought those Crocs! Merely considered it!) but in general…

Yeah. He isn't doing well.

#sarah's choose your own adventure fanfic #snippet

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kiiboslostahoge · 13 days

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A Tech-Demon's Weakness

Summary: Vox is much more angry than usual now that Alastor's back, and it's causing issues with the WiFi. Velvette makes Valentino calm him down, and the man decides to have some fun in the process.

Notes: These guys are supposed to be the most evil mfs even compared to the other overlords, why tf was their scene in the finale so cuteee agghh,😭😭😭, approx 1.5k words

Valentino had a problem. A large problem, in fact. One that he never usually had.

Vox. Vox was too angry to do his fucking job. It made no sense - Vox was supposed to help calm him down, not the other way around!

"That bitch keeps ruining my connection, Val! Some employee lost a day's worth of editing because it couldn't save!" Velvette had said before shooing him off. "Go calm him down so he stops making everything buffer! At this rate, we'll have another blackout."

Couldn't she do that herself? Valentino wasn't meant for these sorts of affairs! If only Vox was here to calm him down - he always did such a good job with that.

Wait. Vox couldn't calm him down, Vox was the one who needed calming! God, why was Vox so angry? The Alastor thing was cute to watch, but not when it ruined their Internet speed.

"Ugh, but I wanted to-"

"Shoo," Velvette said. "Do your job."

Velvette wasn't sympathizing at all, not like Vox did! Valentino was going to get back at that flat-faced man for causing him such a headache.

From Vox's lair, he could faintly hear swear-filled shrieks.

God, this was going to be such a pain. Valentino almost wanted to make Velvette do it but instead, but she'd just yell at him to calm down, and knowing how blindly rageful Vox was right now - that statement would only make him more angry, and the WiFi would only get even worse. Valentino didn't think he could handle the WiFi getting worse than it already was.

No. Calming Vox down would be easy, he knew it. He'd just need to resort to- Unconventional means.

What were the means in question? Valentino would decide that when he got there. He had a small mental list, though.

He sauntered downstairs, where Vox was hissing, furiously eyeing the screen, tracking Alastor like a cat would a laser pointer.

"That old-timey fucker doesn't know shit about this fucking-"

At some point, it had begun to seem like Vox was swearing for the sake of it. The action made sense, though. He had quite some anger to get out, and swear words were an excellent method of expelling anger.

"Vox," he crooned, because he was going to have fun with this. Unlike some demons who happened to have a flat face, a hatred for radio, and hypnosis powers, he wasn't an uptight little bitch.

"What is it?" The reply came instantly. "I'm busy."

And though that was ordinarily true, right now, Vox seemed like a typical chronically-online easily-trolled loser rather than the CEO who had almost all of the Prie Ring under his thumb.

"Relax a little, would you?" Valentino said, pinching at where Vox's cheek would've been were he not a TV screen and earning himself a slap of the wrist. "I hear you're getting a bit worked up over the radio demon."

"Of course I am! He's a-"

Before Vox could introduce anymore colorful swears that even he'd likely never head of, Valentino poked him in the stomach pointedly.

"Ah-ah," he said, unable to be anything other than endlessly amused by this. "You have to calm down, Vox! Can't you see you're acting irrational right now? Why, Alastor could never-"

He was cut off by Vox's static-filled rage.

"Oh, don't even start!" Vox said, but before he could continue his rant, as Valentino's hand accidentally grazed the back of his screen, he let out a static-filled yelp.

Valentino couldn't help but grin. Right. That was one of the best ways to force Vox to calm down.

The thing about the tech demon was that he was ridiculously, mortifyingly ticklish. And with that ticklishness came mortification. Emotional and physical sensitivity? There was nothing more exploitable than that.

"I almost forgot, darling! How could you possibly have let that happen?" He said, and though his statement had little elaboration, Vox knew what he meant.

A gulp was heard.

"V-Val, don't you fucking dare."

Really, though, how could Valentino possibly have forgotten about this? Vox's reactions were much too amusing, and Valentino hadn't even touched him yet! He'd have to do this more often.

"What should I refrain from doing?" He asked, savoring moment of this. A poke to Vox's side, followed by a velp. "This?"

"Prick," Vox said, looking away.

There was really no point to being insulting, was there, now? But this was an opportunity for Valentino.

"I'm hurt!" He said, feigning a pout. "You're so mean to me."

Vox grit his teeth at that, but before he could retort with whatever string of insults he had in mind, Valentino took the chance to dig his fingers into Vox's neck.

Already, Vox was struggling to hold in his laughter."

"I- haah- f-fucking-"

And then, Valentino reached his antenna.

"H-Hahahate you! Gah, fuhuck!" Vox squirmed futilely, namely, it was futile he wasn't actually moving away. Valentino hadn't bothered to hold him down, because for some reason, Vox never did manage to actually pull himself together and actively attempt to leave.

"Aww," he crooned, not bothering to give Vox a break. "Is big bad Vox so ticklish he can't help but lose his mind at the slightest touch? You know, I wonder what Alastor would think if he saw you now!"

Any hope of Alastor taking him remotely seriously would be crushed at that moment. Vox pouted, and at that moment, Valentino couldn't help but wonder.why he found a literal Flat screen television's pouting so adorable.

"Shuhut u-up!" He laughed, more giggled like a child, and it was, in all frankness, quite difficult to take him seriously. "L-Lehet me go, or I swear, I'll-"

Valentino prodded at a small wire end sticking out, and Vox's laughter devolved into pure static.

"There we go," he said.

After a while, Valentino finally had his fill, letting Vox go. Now, it was time to get his work out of the way and-

Wait, what was he here to do again? He'd forgotten.

Nevertheless, he was faced with a huffy, pouty Vox. What could be better?

"Come on, darling!" He said, placing a condescending hand on Vox's back, patting him as if he were a child. Because really, that was exactly what Vox was acting like right now. "Did you really loathe it that much? It isn't my fault, you know how I am. I just had to exploit your complete and utter inability to move away properly."

"Don't bring that up again," Vox said, voice low, almost a growl.

Valentino just tilted his head in amusement.

"What? Your utter inability to escape my clutches? I couldn't possibly do that!" He said. "It was much too amusing. You, completely able to leave at any moment, and yet you couldn't even muster up the brainpower to recognize your obvious escape! Honestly, if I didn't know much better, I'd even believe you were enjoying it!"

Vox slammed a fist on the table, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"S-Stop talking, prick!" He said, and the dots quickly connected in Valentino's head.

Oh. That was what was going on.

"You liked it, then?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. It was just funny watching Vox squirm.

"No I don't," Vox said, attempting to regain his typical demeanor - and succeeding, though Valentino knew him too well not to notice the shakiness of his voice. "I'm not even ticklish. Really-"

His right eye spiraled, and for a second, Valentino felt his thoughts cloud.

"Don't you trust me on that, Val?"

Vox's hypnosis wouldn't work that easily. Valentino quickly put an end to that by reaching for the loose wire, completely breaking Vox's concentration.

"G-Gah! You-"

"I should tell Velvette," Valentino said with a chuckle, because he knew how fearsome the thought of anyone knowing Vox's newfound secret would be, especially someone with as much of a penchant for blackmail as Velvette.

"D-Don't," Vox said. "Please."

Vox used the word 'please'? Miracles, it seemed, were not to miraculous after all.

Nevertheless, the mention of Velvette reminded Valentino that he, sadly, had things to do other than mess with Vox. Like get his WiFi back up to task.

"I won't," Valentino said. "If you stop watching the princess's hotel all the time."

Vox's eyes widened.

"And stop watching for that fucking Radio Demon? I don't really know why you think I'd ever do that."

"Then I suppose I'll just tell Velvette-"

"No, wait! Deal," Vox said, eyes filled with panic. Valentino smirked, drawing up the contract.

"Sign here, darling!" He said, and Vox hastily scrawled his signature onto the contract. Those things were good for more than getting souls.

"Fuck you," Vox said. Feisty once again, it seemed. Though he'd likely calm down shortly after. Hopefully with that, swear words would regain meaning to Valentino. It didn't feel ad gratifying to use them anymore - Vox had been using them so often they'd begin to feel like ordinary words.

Valentino just stayed silent, feeling his face stretch into a grin. He could vaguely make out Vox shooting him a concerned look.

Whatever. He'd discovered a new weakness of his dearest Vox's. And oh God, he was going to have so much fun with it.

#hazbin hotel tickling #lee!vox #ticklish!vox #ler!valentino

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elisela · 1 year

Text

you’re my only hope sterek, 1k, thanksgiving fluff

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek!” Stiles says, looking frantically around the kitchen, phone shoved between his ear and shoulder. “I know that usually you’re supposed to thaw the turkey for days but last night I was nominated as the place to go for everyone who didn’t have a place to go and all the store had was a fifteen pound frozen solid turkey and I’ve left it out since I bought it but the damn thing is still frozen solid and I’m supposed to serve it in four hours. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The wooden spoon he’d been looking for is balanced on the open refrigerator door. He snatches it up and spins to stir the gravy, the only thing he could think to make ahead of time that Lydia won’t kill him for nuking in the microwave right before dinner.

“You can cook it from frozen. It’ll take longer, about five hours, but serve some drinks and your friends will be fine waiting.”

Stiles looks at the compound butter he’d gotten—he can read recipes, thank you, he’s just in a panic—and frowns. “What am I supposed to do about, you know, seasoning?”

“Pull it after two hours and season it then. You’ll have to baste it, but you’ll be okay.”

“Great,” Stiles says, then curses when he realizes he’d laid his dish towel too close to the burner and it’s smoking. “Thanks!”

-----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“This isn’t a turkey question, is that okay?”

The voice that comes through the line sounds almost amused. “We’re here to answer all of your Thanksgiving dinner related questions.”

Stiles taps the pie pan on the counter. He’s unsure if it’s necessary, but he’s seen people do it to regular cakes on YouTube, so why not? “Dangerous,” he says, “because I have a lot of questions. Like—why? How is this the thing you want to spend your time doing on your holiday? What are your qualifications, anyway? Because for all I know you could be making shit up, but I have to admit the turkey is no longer frozen solid under your possibly-sound advice. Which leads me to: can I bake a cheesecake at the same time as a turkey? The oven’s at 375 if that makes a difference.”

“If that—you shouldn’t be cooking your turkey at 375!”

Derek sounds affronted, and Stiles would find that cute—at least he finds his semi-outraged voice cute because for God’s sake, it’s a turkey—but he doesn’t have the time. “The cheesecake, Derek. Can I do the cheesecake at the same time?”

“Not unless you’re good with soggy turkey skin. The steam from the water bath will affect it too much.”

Stiles frowns. “Yeah, the … water bath,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound like he has no idea what he’s doing. “What if I don’t mind soggy turkey skin?”

“You mind soggy turkey skin,” Derek says firmly, and Stiles laughs.

----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Seriously, you’ve been at this for three hours,” Stiles says, because he had fully expected to get someone else on the line. Unless Derek is the sole employee—volunteer? He has no clue—he should have gotten someone else by now.

“Try eight,” Derek says. “Please tell me you turned the turkey down.”

“I’d feel bad lying to you,” Stiles says, grinning. “So it turns out I forgot the rolls, and I have a box of pancake mix but it says I need eggs, which I don’t have because I used them all in the cheesecake. Help me, Obi Wan, you’re my only hope.”

There’s a pause, and Stiles has a moment to hope he hasn’t broken Derek’s brain before he finally replied. “Oh, you’re thinking about making biscuits.”

“That’s what I said,” Stiles says, poking at the cheese sauce for his hopefully tolerable mac and cheese.

“You did not, but you don’t need eggs. Or pancake mix. Google a recipe for drop biscuits and so help me do not bake them at the same time as the turkey.”

“Aww, you know me so well, boo,” Stiles coos, and flips off the burner. “Why do you do this, anyway?”

“So people like you don’t give your friends and family food poisoning,” Derek says. “You’re safe, by the way, if you keep roasting the turkey at 375. It’ll be charred.”

“Drama queen,” Stiles mutters, and then puts his foot in his mouth by asking, “you’re not too busy cooking your own dinner?”

“My family’s across the country,” Derek says after just a moment. “My sister usually made dinner for us and her friends, but she just got married so she’s with his family.”

“Sucks, dude,” Stiles says, cursing when the doorbell rings. “Gotta go. Hopefully Scotty brought the alcohol or I’m gonna have a riot when they learn the food’s not ready. Thanks again.”

He hangs up, pauses, and calls right back.

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, “you should come over here. We’ve got plenty of food. Some of it even edible, thanks to you.” He gives him his address before he loses his nerve, adds in a few key landmarks he’s near just in case, and hangs up before Derek can respond.

---

Lydia looks at him suspiciously when the bell rings, glancing around the room like she’s mentally counting the people in it and wondering who the hell else Stiles knows that’s not currently in the room, which, rude, but he’ll deal with that later.

Or not. He probably won’t bring it up at all, because she would have been right if he hadn’t been calling the turkey helpline all day, and he doesn’t want to get into it.

For now he sidesteps Scott, who had been helpfully on his way to the door, straightens his shirt, and flings it open.

Holy good Jesus.

He probably gapes—not his most attractive look, but he can’t be blamed when the man standing on his front porch is the literal definition of perfection. “Hi,” he manages to say, “Derek?”

It’s probably not Derek. It’s probably Jackson’s new boyfriend checking up on him, or a neighbor ready to yell at him for taking up so many parking spaces with his guest’s cars, or—

“I never caught your name,” the man says, and it’s Derek’s voice, it’s Derek, and Stiles is still standing like an idiot half-hanging out the door.

“Stiles,” he says, and waves a hand automatically to brush off the inevitable question. “I’m glad you came. Come in, come in.”

Derek’s shrugging out of his leather jacket, and if Stiles wasn’t already formulating ideas to make Derek fall in love with him, he certainly is the moment it comes off and reveals a soft looking maroon sweater underneath it. “Well, you said I was your only hope. Come on, Skywalker, show me your kitchen.”

#sterek #sterek fic #thanksgiving #fluff #eli writes #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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ilexdiapason · 8 months

Text

(part one here) (part four here)

Oli doesn't try to broach the subject again until the pizza is delivered and the ice cube is a soaked-up puddle in a napkin on the coffee table.

When he does, though, it's with his hands in his lap and his best efforts to not sound like a scolding teacher. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Martyn, in lieu of answering, pulls open the pizza box and wiggles a slice free from the still-stringing cheese. His fingertips bounce it between them, ginger; he bites down and clearly regrets it. Still, he chews, mouth caught in a conflict between ventilating the heat and keeping his secrets sealed tight shut behind it.

"Come on," Oli continues, gentle as he can push it. "I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

Martyn swallows. He looks like he's deliberating.

He must decide, whatever the stakes of this crisis are, that Oli's worth it, because he does reply.

"You know," he says, quiet, "I wasn't kidding when I said you should keep your computer away from me."

"Do you want me to take it upstairs?"

"I mean - bit late now. But yeah, that'd probably help."

So he probably has the conviction that something, somebody, is listening in through the machine. That's understandable; if whatever his situation was involved him being able to join some random strangers' games, he probably had a computer, and it was probably monitored, which would explain why he's so terrified of being tracked. It makes about as much sense as anything else in this exchange does.

Even if it didn't, though, Oli still would have taken his laptop back upstairs, tapped out a quick notice that he'd be unavailable for the rest of the day, and tossed it on his bed - and his phone beside it, after a moment's thought. Martyn's comfort is what really matters here.

"There we are," he says on his way back in, "the highest-tech thing in the room now is probably the microwave."

Martyn offers him a thin smile, which feels more like progress than anything else.

"Right." He sits back down, takes his own piece of pizza (which by now is a far more edible temperature than it must have been when Martyn tried it), and gets the whole thing down before he takes another shot. "You want to start, or shall I?"

Martyn exhales amusement. "Go on then. Tell me what you know."

"Not a lot," Oli admits, "apparently. You don't make a lot of sense. You fell out of the sky, you still seem fairly surprised that things are real, you didn't know we’d been playing Minecraft - and you were calling me CHEST agent, which isn't a job title my company offers, as far as I'm aware. What, were you born in a video game?"

"I told you I was born in Nottingham."

"That might have been a cover story!"

"Nah. Wouldn't lie about that. I am a real boy, Gepetto, you can believe me on that one."

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure about you," Oli says. "All this talk of being in there, though. I don't know. VR?"

"Something like. You -" he hushes his voice, even though it's the middle of the afternoon and the neighbours won't be home "- you're, like, a normal CHEST employee, then? Front end stuff?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm a software dev. If it's a front, I'm not in on the secret."

"God," says Martyn, "okay, so you're still not safe, but… okay, telling you this now, you're not getting the whole truth. But your company sucks and you should quit your job."

"Sucks like questionable QA policies or sucks like torturing teenagers in the basement?"

"I - shit," says Martyn, "a lot of those agents might have been folks like me, huh. Damn. Least I never killed anyone."

"I seem to remember you being pretty handy with a knife."

"Yeah, 'cause none of that was real, I was a bloody rat in a maid dress. You can't be on at me for killing people there."

"Suppose Jimmy killed the gardener."

"Exactly!"

"So, what, CHESTCorp have figured out how to turn VR into R, and you got caught up in it?"

"Not CHEST," Martyn takes another go at his slice of pizza, "just Doc. It's real experimental stuff. You're lookin' at test subject number one, I'm pretty sure."

"And now that you're not a test subject any more," he finishes, "you're having trouble readjusting."

"I guess. It's just… y'know, like, it's nice to be back, but… weird. Incredibly weird."

"Two and a half years would do it," Oli nods.

They take another lull to properly eat. Oli hadn't realised before this how starving he is; he would have thrown something together from the groceries he'd picked up if he hadn't had a guest to entertain. Martyn, too, seems fairly intent on ingesting an entire pizza by himself. His mother’s voice sounds inside his head, urging him to slow down, but Oli ignores it. If Martyn ends up with stomach problems it’ll just be another stark reminder that he’s not… trapped in a virtual reality simulator, he supposes.

“So, er,” he picks back up, once they’ve cleared the wedges and made more than a dent in the pizza, “what now?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve gone through all that. Nobody’s going to believe you, I assume, if this stuff’s as top-secret as it seems to be.”

“Kinda thing you’d need a two-hour primer with your therapist for,” Martyn nods, “and a lot of faith in doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“But, what, do you just… go home?”

“I’d like to,” he says. “I would really, really just like things to go back to normal.”

There’s a silence. But they can’t rings clear as a bell in the air between them anyway.

Martyn looks down at the last three slices of pizza. “You should take me home.”

“You’re sure?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be a big surprise for my parents when they get back home from work. And then I’ll add you guys on Discord, and hopefully we’ll be able to talk more on there?”

“Hopefully,” says Oli, meaning it more than anything. His entire life’s been pretty much flipped on its head by this encounter. “We’re always wondering about you, y’know. Or, I mean, I am. Owen probably thinks you’re there from Apo, Apo probably thinks you’re there from Owen, all that, but… Hard not to wonder who the hell you really were, when you would never act like it was actually a game.”

“I mean, it’s all a game, isn’t it, really?” Martyn muses, half-distant. “Just in the long dream now.”

“Is that from the End Poem?”

“Is it?”

Oli shakes his head. No time for all that. “So I’m driving you back to Nottingham, and… you’ll DM me when you can?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the best he can ask for.

Martyn refuses to tell Oli his exact address, just asks him to drive close enough that Martyn can walk the rest of the way home. It’s understandable - a CHESTCorp employee knowing Martyn’s exact location is, apparently, an incredibly dangerous thing - but still a little concerning. He’d at least like to be sure that Martyn won’t be getting poached back by this Doc guy at the earliest notice. Still, Martyn’s comfort remains the most important thing, and so he leaves his Google Maps at home.

It’s a bit of an autopilot drive, even without directions. Oli feels the wheel under his fingers, the pedals under his feet, like they’re abstracts. He looks over once or twice and sees Martyn glued to the window, to the mirrors, hypervigilant; he hopes that Martyn feels a little more real now than he did before.

They’re idle at a semi-populated roundabout when Martyn straightens his back. “Second exit, then pull over,” he announces.

“Almost there?”

“Pretty close.”

Oli obliges.

Martyn, with just the barest tremor in his fingers, pops the car door and steps out.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The words leave Oli’s mouth in a rush, the emotion behind them probably more visceral than Martyn is expecting, if the way he startles at them is any indication.

“Because - ‘cause if you need a hotel, or cash, or -”

“No,” says Martyn, “no, I’m fine. Promise.”

He hesitates, hand on the open car door, a few more seconds.

“And thanks,” he finishes, “I don’t - I’m not - I don’t know. Appreciate it.”

Oli understands what he’s getting at. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Nah, I’m gonna throw myself right in the Trent when you’re gone,” Martyn smiles, and Oli dutifully ignores the crack in his voice. Blame it on the last vestiges of teenagehood.

“And if you do end up needing to - I suppose erase all traces of your old life online… then it’s been an honour.”

“Yeah.”

“... Good luck.”

“Talk to you later,” Martyn says, and slams the car door closed.

All Oli can do, once he’s ambled out of eyeshot, is mechanically drive back home.

So that was InTheLittleWood. Friend group cryptid, unethical experiment, man with more trauma than Oli could ever begin to help him deal with… but man he was able to feed, and house, and walk through an emotional response, which is better than nothing at all. The one person in the world who Oli could almost hit with his car and have that be a better situation than the one he’d just escaped from. Still a mystery, too; he’s left Oli with far more questions than answers, left him returning to an empty house and wishing he’d been selfish enough to make Martyn stay a little longer, talk a little more.

Oli picks up his phone where he’d tossed it in the bedroom.

He has one new email to his work address.

Human Resources 3:04 PM

to me ˅

Subject: Performance Review

Dear Oliver,

You have been scheduled for a performance review. You are required to report to our Shoreditch location by 09:00 tomorrow, Tuesday December 12th. Failure to comply with this request will result in disciplinary proceedings, which may lead to your subsequent termination.

Regards,

Dan

Human Resources

CHESTCorp UK

Ah.

That’s… well.

The word termination is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that threat.

… Okay, so they’re working to a deadline now. That’s fine. He can deal with that. Martyn’s been dealing with far worse, right?

The friend request, at least, flips through from pending to accepted.

TheOrionSound — Today at 16:14

[Attachment: Screenshot_20231025_161408.png]

InTheLittleWood — Today at 16:14

Shit.

(end! now on ao3, if you’d like to leave a comment slash kudos slash bookmark!)

#ilexworks #reverse isekai au #itlwlore #oli theorionsound #martyn itlw

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sleepynxri · 2 months

Text

“In hindsight, I should have looked at the instructions"

A/N: THE DEMO IS FINALLY OUT OMG!! Congrats to the devs and the whole team for releasing the demo!! I love it so much to the point I think I'm the first one to make an x reader of it lol. But I chose my favorite (for now)Vince!! And a certain person might like it as much as I do hehe. I might not get his full personality right since it is still the demo and the characters might change their personalities depending the route you pick on the official release, but do enjoy everyone! And requests will be open until further notice. And of course spoilers for the demo!!

P. S. The reader is demisexual! If you don't know what it is it means a person who feels sexually attracted to someone after creating a close bond with them! It made sense to me since in the demo the mc was a bit rude and judgemental in their thoughts regarding their interactions with the different love interests. But hey! If you don't like it then just ignore this part! Enjoy it however you like hatchlings!

Pairing: Vince Matador x gn! reader

Warnings: curses, no use of Y/N only You/I

What did I get myself into?

A sigh of exhaustion released itself from your mouth as you headed out from the diner where you now currently work at.

Who knew that you had to use the first few weeks of your summer in an unknown town after your car suddenly broke down in the middle of nowhere?

Fuck Fate and itself.

You started on walking around the streets of the said town, it was interesting to say the least. Almost everyone in this vicinity at least knew each other if they were a neighbour or a regular. You felt out of place whenever someone pointed out or asked if you were new around.

The only thing that wavered your mind was the interaction inside Cup o Jo Mama. The new part-time job you’ll be doing until you’re able to pay for both the hostel you were staying in and the repairs of your broken down car. (Srsly how did I should have checked it out before going on a long ass fucking road trip??)

Chris was quite a timid character to have as a co-worker, but I am quite the observing person to see how he changes personalities so directly. It concerns me sometimes but it wasn't my business to get into anyone’s personal lives.

And that Wyatt fellow…. Can’t say that the headlines were wrong about his looks. He was attractive, but his personality is that of a stereotypical rich people lifestyle. It's best to not not meddle myself into his work and business, if he was staying in Brine Bay in the meantime.

Placing your headphones over your ears, you started to tune out the noises, you needed some alone time after all the shit that just happened. Familiarising your steps to avoid on getting lost - (Fuck you btw Dante) again.

Clicking your tongue slightly in annoyance after remembering a certain front desk employee who didn't tell you the actual direction towards the diner you were supposed to go in.

Without you knowing, a familiar sheriff and an unknown male suddenly were seen in the corner of your eyes. Jean looked optimistic as ever, but to your surprise- he was with someone else who looked like the opposite of him.

Why not see what they’re up to?

So… . The guy’s name is Vince. Jean momentarily left you both together to help with the white haired males socialising skills. You didn't mind, but you did feel guilty for forcing him to be with you. So you thanked him for staying with you.

You didn't expect the male to give you a half- smile. It almost caught you off guard. It was so pretty…

You shook your thoughts away and gave your own warm smile. Vince was a nice fellow, since he didn't know what to show you, you suggested that he showed the areas where he likes to stay at. You bonded with him with his different favorite places in Brine Bay. You were touched on how he could trust you to these places. You knew it held something for him to show you these areas.

Then you met Kevin….

You almost laughed loudly after hearing the nickname Vince gave him.

A fucking highlighter? You didn't think the male held so much humor. (Or your humor is just broken)

Kevin was a nice fellow. A bit flirty (then again who isn't? Almost everyone - not Dante- has started flirting with you before you could even muster a response to any of their introductions) but a passionate theatre kid.

‘pre’?? Is that a word or a different language? You’ll probably ask the next time you interact with him.

After saying goodbye to the green haired male. You and Vince were left alone together again. You pointed out how it was getting late so you and him started your way back to your hostel.

“Are you enjoying yourself? “ You paused after hearing Vince’s words. You… didn't expect someone would ask this question towards you. I mean it is technically your first day here after all.

You can feel the stare of Vince from the corner of your face as you racked up an answer for him.

“I… . Can't say much. My car broke down, Jean found me, he drove me here, I met a lot of people, found a part time job… . It's overwhelming to say the least” a flash of worry crossed the eyes of Vince as he tried to find the right words to reply.

But you beat him to it.

" But… I am enjoying it. I never expected to have an adventure while on summer break. It's new…. But not unwelcoming" a chuckle escaped your lips as you watched the sky growing darker.

“That's… . Good to hear” Vince relaxed his shoulders with another pretty smile he has. Your heart flutters after seeing it again. This was the second time you’ve seen it but you already knew you’ll always remember that smile he has.

Exchanging numbers with him was… eventful. It was cute to see him flustered while nervously asking if you wanted his contact number (who wouldn't accept his advances?)

You knew you had to take your chances and placed “Vimpire" as the contact name for Vince. (He’ll probably be disappointed but who’s to say he’ll just chuckle after you have him a silly nickname)

You told him your farewells and headed back to your temporary room. Doing your nightly routine and wearing your night wear.

You decided to call someone before heading off to sleep. The first person that popped up from the idea was Vince.

“Ah.. who is it?"

“You forgot about me already?" You teased slightly with a small chuckle as you looked outside the windows while watching the luminescent sky radiating from them.

“It's you… . I-i didn't expect that you would be calling me already” you wanted to tease him more but you asked him first if he arrived home already. He was still walking from home and you both decided to stay in the call for a while.

“Can I ask… why the sudden call? “

Fuck it.

" Is it bad that I wanted to hear your voice before I head to sleep? “

A pause could be heard from the other line. You grew worried when the call suddenly hung up and you panicked. You tried texting him but he suddenly beat you to it with a call.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I panicked!" A rush of apologies came after you answered the call. It was a relief to hear that you weren't stepping over boundaries and you asked him if everything was alright.

He reassured you, telling you that he just took time to process on what you said before. You couldn't see it but he was smiling on the other side of the phone (if Jean saw this he would be supportive yet teasing the poor boy).

“Hey uhm… if you have time after your shift ends… I could show you more around town? “

You were shocked again after hearing his words. This is the second time you got shocked by this man alone. You wonder what he got plans for you next.

" I would like that” you smiled warmly from the invitation. As you both continued chatting until you both shared your farewells.

You yawned and stretched your body and headed off to sleep.

You hope you can see Vince’s smiling face again.

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay

Lavendeer Studio Discord Server

Disclaimer: I am not part of the Lavendeer Studio team, I'm just placing the links here to whoever wants to play the game or wants to join the server for more updates and upcoming events!!

#Threads of You: Beyond the Bay #Vince Matador x reader #Vince Matador x fem reader #Vince Matador #Vince Matador x male reader #Vince Matador x gn reader #male reader #female reader #gn reader #first post #im nervous

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mitsuyeaah · 11 months

Text

more than art.

— geto suguru x f! reader

cw: art gallery owner!geto, art gallery employee!reader, just pure fluff-ish!!! geto trying to flirt :)

a/n: my first time writing a (short) fic for jjk & geto!! apologies in advance since i haven’t really grasped geto’s character that well! i got inspiration hehehehehe

as you made your way to the office, you caught a glimpse of a tall figure slipping into one of the restricted access areas of the art gallery. you furrowed your brows as the male confidently walked inside and past the stanchions held together by a red velvet rope. the loud clicking of your heels reverberated through the quiet gallery as you made your way to the area the mystery man went, annoyance bubbling in the pit of your stomach, ready to tell him off.

“excuse me sir.. you’re not supposed to be in here.”

the man, genuinely shocked, whipped his body around to face you. he was dressed in a white button down, tucked into a black dress pants—the sleeves of his top rolled up to expose his veiny forearms. his onyx hair was securely wrapped into a bun, some stray hair cascading down his handsome face.

he raised his arms up in defence, giving you a sheepish smile, “oh! i’m sorry.. i was just looking at how this place was coming together.” you opened your mouth to say something in retort but abruptly stopped when you noticed how familiar the man in front of you looked.

those slender eyes and black earrings..

oh. oh. suguru geto

shit. he was the owner of this art gallery; a wealthy man. old money. you should have known, you’ve seen him close deals with several artists who’s art works don this massive gallery. your heart dropped as you quickly placed your palm to cover your lips in shock.

“o-oh my goodness! i’m so sorry, mr. geto! my bad, please, take a look for as long as you want!” you could feel heat spreading throughout your body as you profusely apologised, embarrassment engulfing you.

geto let out a small chuckle, his tone was full of velvet and honey. “no, no, it’s okay! you were just doing your job, i like that.” he wandered further down the vast room, analysing each framed work with such keenness in his eyes.

“hmm, this one’s quite the photograph, isn’t it?” he turned to look at you, finger pointing at the framed photograph behind him. you found yourself taking quick hasty steps to get closer to the man. “y-yes, indeed! i am actually very fond of this artist. the way they make such use of natural lighting.. it brings so much colour and emotions into the photograph. almost like you’re inside it.”

your eyes scanned the art before you, tracing every curve and bend of it as you allowed yourself to get lost within it’s artistic uniqueness. geto, on the other hand, studied the way you looked at the photograph with such passion. your eyes glimmering under the light like it held stars within them.

he thought you were cute.

“hmm, i like how you describe it.. kind of like reading between the lines, but in terms of art. most people don’t really appreciate the feelings behind every piece of art work.”

warmth crept up your cheeks as he complimented you. suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. your hand mindlessly reached up to your nape to scratch at it as you felt warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“ah.. thank you, mr. geto.” “oh, drop the formalities. just, suguru, please.” you hesitated for a bit but nodded, “yes.. suguru.” you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

the two of you mindlessly walked around the room, being cautious of the art in the room that were yet to be displayed. you’ve never really spoken to suguru up until now but there was just something between the two of you. your personalities clicked with one another. both of you meeting in the middle.

there were times where you rambled on about the photograph in front and he’d finish your sentence like he was reading your mind. and the both of you would just look at each other in awe, laughing at how bizarre it was.

you also didn’t miss the way he stole glances at you from the corner of your eye while you admired the art work ahead. your skin burned under his onyx gaze but you pretended not to see it, like it didn’t affect you at all.

“this one is truly beautiful.” you gaped at the photograph.

it was a photograph of the vast ocean. endless hues of cerulean engulfed the entirety of the photo—hints of sparkles of white here and there from the reflection of the sun. your eyes traced the curves of the gentle waves that creased the vast blueness. it was very detailed. to some, it was only a photograph of the water but to you, it showed how truly vast the ocean was. the unexplored depths of it, and the beauty of its azure body.

“mmm, beautiful indeed.” suguru muttered from beside you, his tone was a little off. almost like a dreamy sigh.

this time, you slowly turned your head to him. you were once again met with his intense onyx gaze, it was fixated on you.

you weren’t going to lie, it made your breath hitch. “..the art work..” you didn’t even make sense but you nervously chuckled, meekly pointing a finger at the photograph on the wall but suguru just shrugged, a small smile forming upon his lips. “oh, i am looking at a piece of art.”

your heart pounded against your chest as he said that without faltering. shit, was he flirting with you?

before you could say anything, he spoke up once again, “you know.. i’d love to talk about things more than art.. if you’re interested.”

#geto suguru #geto drabbles #geto fluff #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk geto

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velvethopewrites · 7 months

Text

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro. There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate.

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once. As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle.

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy. They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow. Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…” Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah)

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

#suptober23 #destiel #prompt:starlight #dean and cas #meet-cute #my writing #biting nails here #like posting stuff is scary #wth #I am not used this anymore #castiel #dean winchester

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