Fictober24 - Tumblr Posts

Fictober day 2

Prompt #16; "no, I'm not okay" as well as added parts of the whumptober #8 sleep deprivation and flufftober #23 stormy night

Characters: Monkey D. Luffy, mentions of the other straw hat pirates

The dark light of the night sky shone on the decks on the sunny. Waves collided against the sides of the ship with fierce strokes as the ship tilted in their favor. Boards squeaking with a muffled sound from the other sounds. Nothing could be heard well over the harsh sounds of nature.

Nothing but deep blue sea water surrounded the thousand sunny for miles upon miles, covering all of the horizon. No signs of any islands. No random threat encounters, nothing at all. [Hell, the next island wouldn't be closing near until more than a week or two later.] Nothing but the occasional shift in tides throughout the days. It was becoming quite boring very quick for all of the straw hats.

Nothing had gone wrong for some time now, yet something still felt off. Luffy had roamed around the ship, trying to find something, anything, that was different. Nothing- not that he could spot at least. The ship was steered in the correct place, all the food was in the exact same place as usual.. But upon inspection, he felt like he suddenly hasn't eaten for days. It just sat there, uneaten and fresh.. it wasn't *his* fault that it all looked so tasty! The new reddish bump on his head said otherwise that yes, it was in fact his fault. A bit of scolding from Sanji before being shoved out of the kicthen for.the time being. He might have been fussed at by Nami for accidentally changing the course of the ship too, earlier.. But it really wasn't his fault, he just fell asleep..!

The rest of the crew generally weren't doing anything too interesting or new.. Some of them even offered to keep him company, but he had refused with a pout and sad tone to his voice, but he needed something more! He just couldn't tell what. Something he rarely did, to keep his mind busy..

After a long trail of thoughts, he had came up with a few new ideas- raid the food stash, bother Nami or Zoro, play with Usopp and Chopper, watch Franky repair something, get story time from Robin, talk with Jinbei, listen to Brook playing his violin.. Wait a minute. None of those seemed remotely new, not at all.. Huh. That's a bit weird.. Oh well.

As he kept thinking to the best of his ability, he got up and began to roam around the ship once again. He had a bit of a destination in mind for now. His legs moved with a steady pace, one step after another. As he walked, he looked around the area silently. His sandals clapped against the hard wooden boards, providing him with something to focus his attention and thoughts on. He eventually reached his destination, the front of the ship. If he couldn't find something new to do, he'd just take a second or two to himself on his special seat..

As he approached the front, he states down into the oceam briefly. When he diverted his attention from that, he looked up to the figure head and stretched his arm to reach one of the spike shapes that made up the mane-sun of the figure. He let his arm propel him forward and landed safely upon the slope.

He sat down on the same place as he had so many times before, taking in a deep breath.

The gentle breeze was more noticeable now, lifting his hair slightly swaying it around. His clothes wrinkled and flowed under the small pressure too, causing him to feel a cold rush. He shivered. Grabbing his vest, he adjusted it to cover him up more with a few of the buttons now together in a strong and firm hold.

He glanced up at the sky, still desperate to find anything that could distract him from the array of thoughts that he knew would invade ever corner of his mind if he didn't push them away. It was almost as black as the essence of a black hole, but instead holding a dark hint of blue. The color was illuminated by the array of stars that were in the sky. They shine with ferocity, not a single one unpresent from the bunch at this late hour of the night.

How could they just stay there, so free without any interruption?

He wondered. He might not have ever been the smartest, but he at least knew many things. He was wittnessed many things in the short time of his life so far, both good and bad. Even the in between.

He kept staring into the vast space, glancing from one bright star to the next. His eyes held a glum look, one with barely any passion in them. His face looked blank. If you were to observe his face from afar, you couldn't even tell that he wasn't the slightest bit at peace/happy. He simply didn't know what he was feeling. There was nothing more to it.

.. Not that he had yet to realize. Emotions were filling up in his head, but he suppressed them and shoved them into the deepest corners of his mind.

He didn't deal with his feelings good at all. He was never taught how to keep them regulated. He was tossed around and allowed to sob as a child, he hadn't known any better. As the years went by, he had barely changed in that matter. He still got heavily upset, still had terrible mood swings that went just as fast as they came. What else was he supposed to do when he felt something?

But after that event, he slowly realized that maybe it would be better to just push them away when they got too bad. Let himself forget about them for as long as he was able to, not worry about how it all made him feel.

He started to feel like he was out of place. His mind continued to wander as he sat there, drifting to all of the worst things that he had shoved away from his normal train of thoughts about ace, sabaody, and things like that. They were unwelcome to Luffy, but that didn't stop them.

Shades of blue surrounded him everywhere he looked. The sea, the night and morning sky, eyes, food, clothes- it had no limits. It followed him everywhere. He wasn't free from it's nulling and sad-enduxing effects.

But at least the stars were comforting. Every time they appeared, they were always together. Even if they should fade, they would always show back up, United together in the night sky. Luffy envied them in a way- no need to worry about protecting others, No fighting recklessly.

Of course, Luffy enjoyed a good fight, but it was almost pointless when something bad came out of it. His fighting was supposed to better his skills, make him more reliable for all of his friends and nakama.. Not the exact opposite. When someone got hurt, he felt like he was entirely at fault.

It made him feel like he had lost his purpose sometimes.

Dont get him wrong, he loved living- but sometimes he felt like he only lived for the others. The people in his life motivated him like nobody else, even though he could usually do that good enough on his own. Life could be hard as little as he liked to admit. He usually didn't let him steer his actions and demeanor like this, but he couldn't help it. Once too many things piled up, he tended to overflow like a cup that's too full of water. He hated it. He didn't like feeling this way, and certainly didn't want anybody else to see this sight. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

To think that this had all happened just because Luffy couldn't sleep. The thoughts had started maybe a day or so ago, growing more loud and obnoxious until now where he couldn't even try to ignore them. Try as he might, he was not able to avoid them. Temporary solutions, maybe, but they of course never lasted long.

He desperately wanted some company, but most of everyone should be asleep in their respective cabins by now- asides from night watch. Maybe he should go up to the observation deck and see who was there? He could surely talk to them for a bit!.. Or just sit near them, he really just needed someone else's presence around him.

He decided to go there in a while, instead choosing to sit on the figurehead in the cold winds for a bit longer. As he stayed staring at all of the different stars, he layed on his back upon the spot where he sat.

'This isn't too bad,' he thought.

Perhaps all that he needed to help was a good moment or two of silence to himself?

Maybe part of it, but he knew that having one of his friends near would restore his ecstatic attitude back quickly. They always managed to bring his spirits up, no matter when, where, or from what. He treasured each of them dearly, and as held onto his closest treasures just as the typical pirate did. Each crew member had their own special connections to one another, and none was the exact same. Thats one of theany things that made this crew of his so strong. Everyone trusted each other, even if they didnt show it the same for each person.

As his crew had grown, he could tell that they were all getting closer. The firndships that had already begun and progressed were enhanced with each new friend they had gained to join them on their journey through uncharted waters of the vast sea. Despite all of their different goals in life, every body never stayed far from one another. It essentially brung them closer than if they were to have the same goal.. It gave a variety of different personalities and people.

As he focuses on all the attributes of all of his friends, Luffy could feel himself smile once again. The normal grin that plastered his face over and over throughout each day had finally returned. A fit of giggles and laughs erupted from his throat, pleased that he could feel like his usual self once again. He lays there, tapping his fingers, shifting around with energy waiting to be released. As tired as he was, he knew he still had a while to go before he could tire himself out this time around.

Oh well. He would still have plenty of time to nap after this, right? Of course he did!

He mutter an arrangement of words into the crisp night air, letting out a quiet and small yawn.

'Thank you, everyone.. Ace, Sabo, My Crew.. I love you all!"

AN- so basically I just merged some of the favorite prompts from each of the three and combined parts of them in my own way.. Finally day 2 is complete! Just 29 more to go :,)

FICTOBER 2024

as usual i was unable to find any good fictober lists that i PERSONALLY enjoyed for this year, so, keeping with tradition! i made my own! since we're a week from october i figured i'd post it now to let people take a look :^) if you end up using any of it (or all of it) PLEASE DO TAG ME! i'll post a link to my ao3 fictober in the next few days so it'll be up there as well! (plaintext list is below the cut + click for MUCH better quality)

shackles

headless

thunderstorm

journal

sun

clock

sacrifice

moth

aged

catacomb

ancestral

fissure

tentacle

cairn

swamp

statue

vail (NOT veil or vale!)

precipice

impaled

cage

rotten

sunrise

immolation

prisoner

peak

coward

delirium

carved

garden

mandible

(and as always) All Hallows' Eve

FICTOBER AO3 IS UP! four days til we start yalllll

FICTOBER 2024

as usual i was unable to find any good fictober lists that i PERSONALLY enjoyed for this year, so, keeping with tradition! i made my own! since we're a week from october i figured i'd post it now to let people take a look :^) if you end up using any of it (or all of it) PLEASE DO TAG ME! i'll post a link to my ao3 fictober in the next few days so it'll be up there as well! (plaintext list is below the cut + click for MUCH better quality)

shackles

headless

thunderstorm

journal

sun

clock

sacrifice

moth

aged

catacomb

ancestral

fissure

tentacle

cairn

swamp

statue

vail (NOT veil or vale!)

precipice

impaled

cage

rotten

sunrise

immolation

prisoner

peak

coward

delirium

carved

garden

mandible

(and as always) All Hallows' Eve

Fictober Day 1

prompt: "That was good work"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Rating: General

Summary:

Sam's POV: Dean attending Sam's school play "Our Town" (as referenced by Dean in season 1 episode 16)

Dad’s not here.

Of course, Dad’s not here, Sam thought to himself as he peeked out from the curtain. 

Ever since he became a teenager and started developing his own interests, John had started giving him less and less attention. All of his parental attention was reserved for Sam’s more hunting-inclined older brother. 

It wasn’t like Sam was really vying for his father’s attention in the first place; after all, John had no interest in anything but the chase. ‘Finding the thing that killed Mom’ had been his life goal for as long as Sam could remember. There wasn’t really room for John to be a dad to kids who weren't his perfect little soldiers. Dean could play that role well, but Sam… Sam wanted to have a normal life. A life that John couldn’t give him. At 8 years old Dean had to be the one to teach him how to throw a baseball and at 11 Uncle Bobby had to be the one to teach him how to ride a bike. All John did was teach him how to load a pump action shotgun with rock salt. 

Sam was used to being dropped in a random motel in a random state to get through half a semester before being picked up to start over somewhere else. Six months was the longest he had ever been at one school. This new school in Colorado was nothing different. At least it wouldn’t be different if it wasn't his first semester alone, but Sam was starting his sophomore year without Dean. Ever since dropping out of high school to be a full-time hunter, Dean was hardly around anymore. 

With all this newfound free time Sam decided to look into after-school activities to keep his mind off of how alone he now felt. It also let him stay at school longer so he didn’t have to walk half a mile back to an empty motel room so soon. 

Drama club wouldn’t have been his first choice but the kids seemed nice and sometimes they would practice until 11 pm on Fridays so it was perfect for keeping busy. 

Sam had an unnatural talent for acting developed from the years of having to lie to everyone around him including his own father sometimes. This landed him the role of George Gibbs, the male lead of the fall play.

-----

“So how's school going,” came Dean’s voice from the other end of the phone one week prior.

“It’s fine I guess,” Sam said flatly.

“Oh, come on you gotta tell me all the high school drama now that I'm not there to witness it myself.” 

“I… wouldn’t know.”

“Don't tell me you’re spending all your time in the library again.”

“No... Dean look I gotta go–”

“No no no come on Sammy tell me how it's really going.”

Sam sighs. He knew Dean wouldn't understand his sudden desire to act but he opened up anyway. “I joined the drama club…”

There was a pause on the other end. “...I leave you alone for 2 months and you've already gone full-fledged geek.” Even though they were talking on a phone Dean could swear he could hear Sam’s eyerolls. “So are you playing Dorthy or are you more of a wicked witch kind of guy.” 

“I’ll have you know I got the MALE lead roll,” Sam protested.

“Wait for real,” Dean said dropping the mocking tone. 

His sincerity made Sam get self-conscious again. “Yeah… look just… dont tell dad ok?”

“Why not I'm sure he’d love to know how you're doing.”

“If he wants to know he can call me himself…”

Dean nods softly even though Sam can’t see it. “Well look, I gotta go for real now but... what day is the play?”

“It's next Friday,” Sam said with a sigh.

“Alright break a leg.”

-----

Sam looked out into the crowd again watching as other kids' parents filed in. He knew Dean well enough to know he would tell their dad despite his wishes but Sam didn’t expect John to actually do anything with the information. Despite that feeling, he couldn't stop himself from scanning the crowd every few minutes while they waited to start. Sure enough, there wasn’t a single familiar face anywhere to be seen.

When it was finally time to start Sam took his position and waited for his queue. Once the curtain finally rose he looked out and that's when he saw him. Not his Dad but one better. His older brother. Dean Rushed in clearly disheveled from not showering after a run-in with a monster. He was standing in the back and breathing heavily from running to get there in time but that didn’t stop him from waving at his little brother when they locked eyes. 

"That was good work you did out there,” Dean said affectionately while ruffling Sam’s hair at the end of the show. 

"Just you?" Sam asked. He didn't have to specify, Dean knew what he meant. Sam was wondering if Dad was coming or had any intentions of coming.

"Just me," Dean responded.

Fictober Day 2

prompt: "It's been a long time"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester, Castiel

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Dean's POV: Having to take care of Cas while he recovers from taking on Sam's trauma ("Dude, on my car... he showed up naked... covered in bees." -Dean S7 E23)

After what felt like forever listening to the phone ring, Sam finally decided to break the silence between him and Dean. “He’s not gonna answer,” he said flatly.

“He’s gonna answer,” Dean retorted.

“Dude, we haven’t heard from Cas in like two days. Not to mention, with the state he’s in now… even if he answered you'd be lucky to get anything of substance out of him.”

“Yeah, but it's Cas… He always bounces back.”

“Well, maybe he really is in over his head this time.” Sam stood up to leave. “I’m gonna go check on the other ingredients.”

Dean gives Sam a conflicted look as he leaves before closing his phone and rubbing his hand over his face.

When Cas did finally show up again it was because Dean hadn’t given up. He tried praying to him again asking for help with the Leviathan problem and this time He actually did make his appearance. Lucky for Dean he was outside when this happened because Cas came with the company of an entire swarm of bees.

“Cas?” He said confused as he turned around to face the angel and swat away the Bees trying to sting him. “What the hell is all this? Where were you?”

“I was observing the pollination patterns of honey bees in Europe where they originate from,” Cas explained in his typical monotone voice.

“Europe?”

“Honey Bees are not native to North America as many people think,” He said as if was the most interesting fact in the world. “They were imported from Europe in the 17th century.”

“Ok Buddy,” Dean said dismissively before taking another look at Cas as the bees began dispersing. He turns his head up and pointedly looks at the sky. “Cas… where the hell are your clothes.”

“Cloth obstructs my ability to experience the pollination firsthand.” 

Dean looks down again to see Cas’s skin covered in welts and sighs. “Damnit Cas, you’re covered in bee stings… come inside.” Dean led Cas inside and directed him to put a towel around his waist while he grabbed the first aid kit.

When he returned he pulled out the tweezers and inspected the dozens of red bumps on Cas’s skin. “This might hurt a little.”

“Dean, I can’t feel pain like that.”

“Right… well brace yourself anyway,” Dean said as he started to pull out the stingers one by one. “Your lucky Jimmy wasn’t allergic to bees otherwise you'd be fucked.”

Dean continued to carefully tent to Cas’s wounds making sure to clean off each one with a rag as he went. “It's been a long time since I had to take care of someone like this,” He said softly.

Cas tilted his head to the side. “Are you referring to Sam?”

“Yeah… I am. Before Dad sold the house we used to play in the backyard all the time.” Dean let out a chuckle as he recalls the memories. “Once when he was 4 he hit the tree in our front yard with a wooden sword and it made a bee hive fall to the ground. Poor guy was screaming and crying and I had to take out every stinger just like this.”

Cas listened to his story with intrigue. “Sam is lucky to have you as a brother. I often wonder how brothers are meant to treat each other. Certainly not betraying their trust for the sake of power.”

Cas normally spoke in code these days but Dean could tell he was referring to himself and the other members of the Garrison but he couldn’t help but be reminded of all of the times he and Sam had lied and kept secrets from each other. “You’d be surprised. Come on let's get you in the bathtub so we can stop the swelling.”

Fictober Day 3

prompt: "I know you better"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Alcohol/substance abuse, Mild self-harm implication

Summary:

Dean's POV: In between S10 E3 and S10 E4 Dean slips away from Sam's careful watch to try to deal with his problems independently.

It was windy and cold outside. Not to mention raining. This was the third bar in Smith County that Sam had walked to and with his car still broken down and the only working car being the one Dean took Sam had no other choice but to trudge through the weather in his pursuit to find his brother. This time he got lucky, the familiar 1967 Chevy Impala was parked outside. He went inside to find Dean completely hammered, sitting at the bar. 

“Dean?”

“Sammy!”

“Common Dean, I'm here to take you home,” Sam said, clearly annoyed.

“Nooo. Come sit, have a drink,” Dean said while slurring his words. 

Sam sighed in exhaustion. “Dean, what are you doing? This self-destructive behavior… it’s getting old.” Sam reached into Dean's pocket to grab his keys and Dean was clearly too drunk to stop him. “Let's go,” he said rattling the keys in front of him.

Dean grabbed his jacket off of the back of the barstool and followed Sam back to the car. “You're such a buzz kill,” he said under his breath.

“Seriously, Dean! Look I know you're dealing with a lot right now but this isn't you.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t start with me. I already told you I forgive you for the Mark of Cain business–”

“Sam!” Dean interrupted him.

“What?”

“Pull over. Now.”

Sam sighed again before obliging knowing that Dean would have a fit if he let him throw up in his own car.

The two of them were on the side of the road for about 20 minutes while Dean threw up everything he ate, drank, and took that night. Sam was getting more and more impatient by the minute. “Talk to me, Dean. What's going on?”

Dean groaned. “It's nothing. Can't a guy just get a drink every now and then?”

“Come on Dean… I know you better than that. What's really going on?”

Dean sighed and leaned back on the side of the car. “It's just… you keep saying you've forgiven me… but that doesn't mean I've forgiven myself.” 

“So you thought disappearing, leaving a cryptic note, and drinking so much your liver will never recover was the right way to go about it.” 

“I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“Well too bad.” Sam paused before pulling the note out of his pocket. “Going out to get fucked up. Don't come looking for me in the morning. Signed Dean,” he read off. “You can't just keep drowning your sorrows in alcohol and whatever else you're on right now.”

“It's just alcohol.”

“Really? Because you have a track record you know…” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You think I don't notice how the ashtray in the Impala is always full or how whenever you get a headache you just take pills from an unmarked bag and keep it pushing. You’re reckless and self-destructive and probably borderline suicidal at this point and these problems run way deeper than the Mark and you know it.”

“You're one to talk, you know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I believe I remember you trying to buy sleeping pills off the black market a few years ago not to mention your method to keep the hallucinations away.”

“That was different,” Sam said with a scoff.

“Look. You know it. I know it. Our lives are screwed up enough as it is that we've earned our fair share of illicit assistance.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “That's a twisted way to think… You know maybe Cas was right. We should take a break– a real break.” Sam folded his arms over his chest. “We could drive out to the lake and just spend some time just you, me, and a reasonable amount of beer. How's that sound?”

“Sounds like a load of crap,” Dean says flatly. After letting the silence drag out he finally gives a real answer. “We can leave in the morning after I sleep this off.”

Fictober Day 4

prompt: "No, we're not doing that"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Charlie Bradbury, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel

Rating: General

Summary:

Charlie’s POV: Charlie is staying over and somehow (despite protest) is able to get the trio to join her for a Dungeons and Dragons one-shot.

“No, we’re not doing that. No way,” Dean ranted as he walked through the bunker.

“Why not,” Charlie whined.

“Because I’m not a complete and total nerd.”

“You larped with me once before.”

“That was different. We were undercover on a case.”

“You did get really into it,” Sam adds as the two of them have now brought this conversation into the library.

“You shut up. Cas back me up.” After getting no response he turns around to find Cas nose-deep in the Dungeon Master’s Guide and Player’s Handbook reading about oathbreaker paladins. “Cas?”

“Hmm?” he says lifting his head up. “I think playing this game could be fun,” he says innocently.

Dean rolls his eyes but caves in pretty fast after hearing Cas’s enthusiasm. “Fine I'll roleplay but I refuse to do math for a game that's supposed to be fun.”

“It's basic addition,” Sam says.

“Ok poindexter.”

After some deliberation and character creation, they ended up with a pretty well-balanced party with Chairlie as the dungeon master. Cas was playing a human oathbreaker paladin while Sam was an elven sorcerer and Dean was a half orc barbarian.

“The three of you have just been hired to attempt to hike to a mysterious cave and find the dragon’s hoard,” Charlie started while adding a voice for dramatics. “You're approaching the entrance to the cave, what will you do?”

“There's a stat on my character sheet that says stealth. Does that mean I can sneak in?” Sam asks.

“Yeah so roll the 20 sided dice and add that number.”

“14. Is that good or bad?”

“That's not bad, you actually rolled higher than the passive perception of the three goblins you find gathered in the mouth of the cave.”

“Ooo I use the… Message cantrip to communicate that to the other two.”

“I wanna run in and hit them hard,” Dean says. “With my… greataxe.”

“Awesome roll to hit with the D20 and then add your proficiency bonus and then if you get high enough you'll roll the D12 plus your attack bonus and–”

“You lost me,” Dean says holding up a hand.

“Oh my god give me these,” Sam says taking the dice and rolling them for Dean. “18 to hit.”

“Thats a hit. Roll for damage.”

“6.”

Charlie narrates the goblins surrendering in fear. “The goblin is downed to one hit point. He and his companions cower beneath the shadow of Deanigar the great. Please don’t hurt us, we'll give you whatever you seek, they say.”

“Tell us where the dragon of this cave resides!” Dean said, slamming his fist on the table.

“Yeah you're totally not a total nerd,” Charlie added sarcastically before jumping back into DM mode. “Roll intimidation with advantage.”

“In English?”

“Roll the dice twice and take the higher number.”

“This game is so weird,” Dean mumbles. “17… plus 2?”

“A 19! That's awesome! The trembling goblin points you in the right direction through the cave.” Charlie then handed Dean a map drawn on a sticky note.

Dean studied the note as if it's an ancient scroll and declared the path forward. “Onwards Samington for our glory is near.”

Fictober Day 5

prompt: "It's a new day, let's go"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Castiel, Dean Winchester

Rating: General

Summary:

Cas’s POV: The drive to Maine to find Raphael was long and treacherous for Castiel. He was used to flying wherever he needed to be in an instant, it was Dean who insisted they drive (Season 5 episode 3)

“Dean perhaps we should stop for a few hours so that you can sleep,” Cas suggested after hours of driving across the country in the middle of the night.

Dean sighs. “I’ll be fine.”

“Your lack of sleep impairs your driving. You keep swerving in and out of the lane.”

“You know if you wanna zap your feathery ass to Maine without me you can. You didn’t have to ride with me, I can just meet you there.”

“If I go early Raphael may sense my presence while I wait for you.”

Dean nodded and kept driving. After another few minutes, he drifted lanes again causing Cas to have to grab the steering wheel to keep them out of sudden danger.

“Dean I am begging you to get the necessary hours of sleep required to operate a moving vehicle.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I refuse to pay for a motel room. I'll pull over and sleep in the car if you insist.”

“I could dri–”

“Absolutely not,” Dean interrupts as he pulls to the shoulder of the road. 

Time stretched on as Dean slept. Minutes felt like hours, and all Castiel could do was watch him. The way time passed in a human vessel was something he was still adjusting to, especially when Dean insisted on traveling by car, refusing to let them teleport. It meant Cas was forced to experience each drawn-out minute in its full, deliberate passage.

For the hours Dean slept, Cas could do nothing but think—about his place in this war and his role in the universe. He thought about those who had betrayed him, and those he had betrayed in turn. About being abandoned by his God, his creator… his father. But above all, his thoughts lingered on the human he had grown close to, the one now sleeping in the front seat while he sat quietly in the back.

Dean was simply human. Not an angel, not a divine being, just one of God’s many creations. So what exactly made him so special? He was Michael’s vessel, a chosen hero, but he was also just a man… imbued with a strength that few other humans could ever hope to possess.

Often Dean’s actions confused Cas. He fought battles not for glory or recognition not even for the pursuit of justice, but for the people he loved. for reasons that seemed… imperfect, yet profoundly human. He was like a star, bright but destined to burn out. And perhaps it was that impermanence that made him so fiercely alive.

When Dean did finally wake up it was under Cas’s watchful eye. He rubbed his hand over his face and sat up to see Cas sitting in basically the exact same position he was in when Dean went to sleep. It was about 5 am and the sun was just rising. 

“You been there all night?” Dean asked in a tired and raspy voice.

“Where else would I have been?”

“I don't know man. You can fly. It's not like I have you on a leash.”

Cas just tilts his head to the side. 

“Whatever.” Dean sits up and takes his keys out of his jacket pocket. “It's a new day, let's go.” 

Cas gets out and moves to the front passenger seat and the two of them head off towards Maine in their crusade to find Raphael. 

Fictober Day 6

prompt: "I'm not giving up"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester, Ben Braeden

Rating: General

Summary:

Dean's POV: Dean tries his best to bond with Ben as he steps into the stepfather role (between seasons 5 and 6), but Ben isn't immediately receptive to his attempts now that he's older. Despite this Dean had his ways of making sure Ben warms up to him.

Being a stepfather didn’t come easy to Dean. It was an uphill battle, remembering how to be as caring and protective as he was for Sam when they were growing up, but now for a kid much younger than him, and who had only ever known a life with a single mom. Ben wasn’t as traditionally masculine as Dean had expected, but that didn’t matter to him as much as Ben seemed to think it did. Dean knew firsthand that strength had little to do with fitting into some mold and he had nothing but respect for the way Lisa raised Ben by herself. 

Dean was determined to make sure he could step up where he could. He definitely still saw bits of himself in Ben even though he had grown out of that leather jacket/80s rock/girl-crazy phase he was in when he was 8 years old the first time they met.

-----

Dean sat across from Ben at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers absently while looking at the math worksheet in front of them. Ben had been staring at the same problem for a while now. He had to ask Dean for help since his mom had left the two of them together while she went to the grocery store. 

“Look,” Dean said, “when I was your age, school wasn’t really my strong suit, so believe me, I get it.” He paused, unsure of how to be helpful with only the bare minimum math skills to pass the GED test.

Ben looked up at him, confused. “So… you’re saying you don’t know how to help me?”

Dean chuckled. “No, I’m saying we’ll figure it out together. You and me, one problem at a time. How about that?” 

Ben lets out a sigh knowing that this worksheet is probably gonna take them all night.

-----

Dean held a baseball in his hand, testing its weight before tossing it toward Ben. He was able to catch it, though not as smoothly as Dean would’ve liked.

“Good catch Bud!” Dean called. “Now, let’s see if you can throw it like a pro.”

Ben threw it back, but it was wide, and Dean had to jog to catch it.

“Not bad, but you gotta aim with your wrist, not your elbow,” Dean said as he returned to his spot. He tossed the ball underhanded, giving Ben another shot.

“Can’t we just call it a day?” Ben said 

“Alright fine,” Dean caves. “Let's head back in. But I am still planning on teaching you how to fix a car engine tomorrow. 

Ben turns around and rolls his eyes as he walks back into the house.

-----

“Hold the flashlight steady,” Dean told Ben as he worked on the Impala's engine. 

Ben sighed and adjusted the light awkwardly. 

“Now hold it down and to the right…” Dean instructed, narrowing his eyes at the engine. “No, that's the left.” 

Ben’s frustration built with each correction. He shifted the light again, but it was clear he wasn’t into it. Dean, sensing the growing tension, tried to stay patient, but it was getting tricky. 

“Alright, you know what... just hand me the flashlight,” Dean said with a sigh, still trying to keep things calm. “Why don't you go into my toolbox and see if you can find me a torque wrench?” 

“I don’t know what that is!” Ben snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. 

“That's okay–” 

“No, it’s not! I don’t know how this stuff works!” Ben threw the flashlight down, his face red as he stormed out of the garage before Dean could say anything else.

Dean wiped his hands on the oily towel, frowning at himself before heading inside to find Lisa. 

In the kitchen, Lisa was stirring something on the stove. “Did Ben come this way?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, he went to his room,” she answered. “Why, what happened? Do I need to go talk to him?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, I got it… I think I need to apologize to him.”

Dean knocked softly on Ben’s door. “Hey, can I come in?” he asked gently. 

There was silence for a moment before Ben’s voice answered, quiet and uncertain. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Dean opened the door, stepping into the room. Ben was sitting on the bed with his arms crossed. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his tone soft. 

“Look, I know I can be hard on you sometimes, but I need you to understand something,” Dean started, trying to find the right words. “I grew up with a dad who didn’t exactly give me much room to screw up. It was all about survival and learning things the hard way. And I guess I’ve brought some of that with me, even though I don’t mean to. I’m still figuring out this whole… dad thing.”

Ben looked down at his hands. “I’m not like you, Dean. You can fix cars or throw a baseball… I don’t know how to do any of that stuff.”

Dean sighed. “I know. And that’s okay. Your mom did an amazing job letting you grow into your own person, and I’m not here to change that one bit. I’m here to help you become you. The best version of you. Doesn’t matter if that means knowing how to work on cars or not.”

Ben glanced up, his voice soft. “But you… you’re so good at this stuff.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get there overnight. You should’ve seen me when I started, it was a disaster,” Dean said with a smile. “You’ve got time, Ben. And hey, you don’t have to be into all the same stuff I am. That’s not what makes you strong, okay?”

Ben nodded, still quiet, but Dean could sense he had said the right things this time.

“Hey, buddy, I’m not giving up on you yet,” Dean said calmly as he ruffled Ben’s hair.

Ben smiled a little.

“Why don’t we head back to the garage and finish that engine? I promise I’ll be more patient this time.”

Ben hesitated, then nodded. “Okay… but I still don’t know what a torque wrench is.”

Dean laughed. “That’s alright. I’ll show you.”

Fictober Day 7

prompt: "Follow me if you want to live"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Cas's POV: Cas goes on a werewolf hunt with Sam and Dean now that he is human and trying to become a hunter (circa alternative season 9 where Dean didn't kick Cas out of the Bunker)

The classic 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up to a taped-off crime scene in Aspen, Colorado. Sam and Dean stepped out in their steam-pressed suits, ready to pose as FBI agents investigating a series of grisly deaths.

Dean approached the sheriff, flashing his badge. “I’m Agent Plant, and this is my partner, Agent Page.”

The sheriff squinted at Dean and Sam, then looked over at Castiel, who was standing stiffly behind them in a rumpled trench coat, clearly out of place. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Agent Perry,” Cas said in his usual deadpan tone.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “They sent three FBI agents for an animal attack?”

“He’s a trainee,” Dean said with an awkward chuckle, trying to get ahead of Cas's lack of undercover skills (or any social skills, for that matter) but also give a reason for him to be there.

“Isn’t this the third animal attack in a month?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

“It’s Colorado. We have all kinds of mountain animals out here,” the sheriff replied, dismissing the concern.

Dean kept pressing. “Regardless, we’re gonna need to take a look at the body and get the address of the victim’s family.”

The sheriff sighed and led them toward the crime scene.

“Called it! It’s definitely a werewolf,” Dean said confidently as they walked back to the car with the case file in hand. “What else could it be with the heart missing like that?”

Sam shook his head. “Let’s just talk to the family first and see what we’re working with before jumping to conclusions.”

Dean shrugged. “Alright, fine. But I’m telling you, heart missing? It's textbook.” Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was sitting quietly in the backseat, staring out the window. “You ready for a werewolf fight, Cas?”

“As ready as I guess I'll ever be.”

Later that night, the trio found themselves parked outside their prime suspect’s house. It was a quiet neighborhood, and Dean wasn’t leaving anything to chance. They settled into the car for what could be a long night.

Dean tossed a fast food bag into the backseat where Cas was sitting. “Taco Bell tacos: the best stakeout takeout in the country.”

Cas blinked at the bag before gingerly pulling out a taco. “Stakeout takeout?” he repeated, clearly confused but trying to follow along. 

Sam was scanning through the case notes while chewing on his own taco. “Okay, so get this, Coach Mavis, the ex-PE teacher from the high school is always taking sick leave around the same time every month.” 

“Maybe it's a menstrual cycle thing,” Cas suggests.

“Coach Mavis is a guy,” Dean says. 

“–and he wasn’t all that well-liked by any students. Werewolves often hold grudges in wolf form and go after people they don’t like. It would make sense to be a teacher from the school since that's the only thing the victims have in common. I mean– they weren't even in the same grade in school”

“Hey, eyes on the prize you two it's stakeout time.”

Hours passed, and they still hadn’t seen anything suspicious. Then, out of nowhere, there was a loud crash from behind the house. The three jumped out of the Impala and rushed toward the noise, weapons ready.

Suddenly, the sheriff appeared out of the shadows, eyes glowing and teeth protruding. Before they could react, he lunged at Sam, knocking him to the ground and dragging him into the forest behind Coach Mavis’s house. Dean and Cas ran after firing bullets and trying to get Sam back to safety.

In the chaos, Cas got separated from the brothers. His heart pounded as he pressed his back against a tree, hiding, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t used to feeling fear like this but the cut on his leg from running into a branch reminded him just how mortal he is now that he's a human. The feeling was overwhelming.

Dean’s voice rang out in the distance, “Cas! Where are you?”

Cas peeked out from behind the tree just in time to see the sheriff luging at Dean now. He panicked, stumbling backward as Dean dodged and shot at the werewolf successfully injuring it. 

“Follow me if you wanna live!” Dean yelled, extending his hand toward Cas.

Without hesitation, Cas grabbed his hand, and Dean yanked him up from the ground. Together, they sprinted back toward the Impala, running hand in hand until they reached the car where Sam was already waiting in the passenger seat with a makeshift sling on his arm. They jumped inside, and Dean floored the gas, speeding away before the sheriff could catch up. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Cas asked, still panicked from the confrontation and the sudden realization of his mortality. 

“Were dropping Sam off somewhere safe and then circling back around to take care of him once and forall.”

“Dean, I dont know if… I– I’m not as good a hunter as I thought I could be.”

“Don’t worry Cas we won't get separated this time. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Fictober Day 8

prompt: "Are we happy"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester, Endverse Dean Winchester

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, the F-slur

Summary:

Dean's POV: Dean has a conversation with Endverse!Dean where they commiserate about the future of his relationship with Cas and how it reflects on his own sexuality.

Dean had a lot to think about after his conversation with himself from five years in the future. He was right about one thing, saying yes to Micheal was completely out of the question.

He continued to watch as his alternative self packed for the upcoming mission they were gonna take. It was weird watching himself in the third person. After a few minutes, he finally decided to break the silence left by their previous conversation. “Have we always looked like that when we walk?” 

“Would you be quiet? I only have like an hour to prepare to kill the devil… my brother– our brother.” Future Dean pivoted so he wasn't looking at his past self anymore. It was just as weird for him as it was for his younger counterpart. “Just because this isn’t your timeline doesn't mean the situation is any less severe.” 

“Come on, I have so many questions.”

“Are they about the mission?”

“...No”

“Then I don't wanna hear them.”

“Don’t be like that. When are you gonna get another chance like this? To talk to yourself face to face.”

“I can just look in a mirror.”

“Yeah well, I got questions about our future.”

Future Dean sighs. He hands his past self a pile of shotguns. “You get three questions, I’ll answer whatever you wanna know… but you clean these while we talk.”

Past Dean hesitates before asking his first question “...Any other regrets? Other than the whole ‘not saying yes when you had the chance’ thing.” 

“...Cutting Sam off. I’m pretty sure that’s why he decided to say yes… and I never got to truly forgive him.” 

“That’s all?” 

“...yeah.”

“Bullshit. I know my own lying tells.”

“...I guess sometimes I regret what I said to Cas… but only sometimes.”

“What did you say to him?” 

“Does that count as your second question?”

“Uh– no.”

“Then I've already said too much about it.” 

Past Dean things for a minute. “Oh I know… my question is what's up with Cas?”

“Very clever,” future Dean says sarcastically. “Fine but it's a long story so buckle up.”

“Buckled.”

“Basically… Cas never left my side when the world first went to shit. You know– I don't know exactly when in 2009 you're from but that's when it started. He turned to me after his search for God went nowhere but I barely ever gave him the time of day. And it's not like I couldn't relate I mean… I know a thing or two about being abandoned by your father when you need him most…” 

“You shouldn't say that kind of stuff about Dad.”

“No, I know… but it's not like neither of us have ever thought it before,” he said. “Anyway, back to Cas. He was just always so anal-retentive and uptight that I never appreciated what he brought to the table.” 

“What table?”

“...After some time I started to suspect that Cas… well I thought he might have had a crush on me.”

“Oh,” past Dean says genuinely surprised.

“You didn’t know?”

“Well, I mean… I thought that he was just like that with everyone I didn’t think it was…”

“But regardless of his feelings, I didn’t think I could, ya know… reciprocate them.”

“Well yeah… were not…” Dean cut himself off. “We're not… are we?”

Future Dean looks down. “Living in an apocalypse camp will do that to you… make you think about things you never had to think about before… things you repressed for years…” 

“We can’t be…”

“No yeah, I'm with you. That's why I slept with every woman I could… to prove it.”

“Prove it to who.”

“To me… to you… to every version of myself in every period of my life.” 

“And what about Cas… what did you say to him?”

Future Dean sighs. “I said… that he should think about finding a girl… or else people will start to think he's a faggot.”

“Why would you say that.”

“Because it's true.”

“True for him or for yourself?”

“Ourself” future Dean corrects him.

“No way I’d never–”

“But you did… because I did.”

“But you said you only sometimes feel regret about that…”

“Yeah… anyways we have to leave soon come up with your last question."

“...Are we happy with ourselves?”

“Happy?” future Dean said with a scoff.

“Well not happy– happy but… it's just you’re throwing a lot of things at me and between what you said to Cas and the way you treat the women around here… there's no way you don’t regret how it went down more than you're letting on.” 

“... You're right. If I could go back in time I’d tell Cas to never change anything about himself.”

“And what about you– what about us?”

“It's too late for us.”

Fictober Day 9

prompt: "Don't listen to me, listen to them"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Sam's POV: Stereotypical body swap episode. Sam is stuck in Dean's body and Dean is in Sam's after an unfortunate run-in with a witch during their latest case.

“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam yelled from the motel bathroom.

Dean, dead asleep, jolted awake at the sound of Sam’s voice… or what he thought was Sam’s voice. Groggily, he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What? What is it?!”

Sam stormed out of the bathroom, and Dean squinted, only to be greeted by a bizarre sight… himself.

“Oh yeah, don’t listen to me. Listen to the random sketchy bartender telling you to try this weird drink. What could possibly go wrong?” Sam, now in Dean’s body, ranted sarcastically as he paced back and forth. Dean tried to calm him down, to no avail. 

“How was I supposed to know she was a witch?” Dean shot back defensively, trying to keep the panic at bay.

“I literally told you to be on guard while we’re in this town,” Sam, still pacing, crossed his arms, glaring at Dean in a way that only Sam could… except it was in Dean’s face, which made it all the weirder. 

“How was I supposed to know the shot was a body-swapping potion?”

Sam sighed, exasperated. “You know what, Dean, I’m hearing a lot of ‘How was I supposed to know’ and not a lot of ‘How am I gonna fix this.’”

Dean rubbed his temples, looking at his reflection in the mirror across the room. “Okay, okay. Let’s just call Cas and Rowena. Maybe one of them has an answer.”

A little while later, Dean was finally able to get a hold of Rowena from Sam’s phone. Cas had already zapped himself into their motel room and was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to figure out what the big deal was since he was used to having to navigate different vessels.

“Well, isn’t this just hilarious,” Rowena said over the speakerphone, clearly amused by the situation. “Body-swapping spells can be quite the spectacle.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean grumbled sarcastically. “How do we fix it?”

“Oh, it’ll wear off on its own, dear. Give it 24 hours, and you’ll be back to your proper bodies.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Sam groaned. 

Cas finally chimed in. “I don’t see why this is so troubling for you two. I can still see you both clearly as you are. Your souls are unchanged. It’s just a different vessel.”

“Thanks for your profound insight, Cas,” Dean muttered. 

“Yeah, humans don't really operate in ‘vessels’ the way angels do,” Sam added.

Cas tilted his head to the side but continued anyway. “In the meantime, I can help you track down the coven that’s been stealing souls. It’s likely tied to the bartender who served Dean the drink.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said dismissively as he rummaged through Sam’s duffel bag. The two brothers shared a similar sense of style due to having to share all the same thrifted clothes but Dean still always found his ways to stand out and he was determined to make one of Sam's shirts work for him.

Sam glared at his brother. “Alright, here’s the deal. You’re not allowed to eat complete junk like you normally do while you’re in my body.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Sammy.”

Sam crossed his arms. “My body is a temple, Dean. Don’t be an ass. I can literally feel your body falling apart on me. You should probably try eating healthier, too.”

Dean gave a nonchalant shrug. “I eat fine. A burger now and then never hurt anyone.”

Sam groaned in frustration. “Just… please, Dean, no red meat.”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it.” 

The fight with the witches was pretty run-of-the-mill they were able to figure out who the head of the coven was and put together some witch-killing bullets. The only issues came up from Sam being stuck in his brother's body and vice versa. Dean found himself unable to kick down doors because he wasn’t used to the way Sam’s strength differed from his, and Sam found himself being frequently hit on by girls. 

The next morning, after the coven had been dealt with and the 24 hours had passed, Dean and Sam woke up back in their own bodies. Dean studied his hand, feeling like himself again, while Sam gave him a long, tired look.

“So, you didn’t destroy my body with junk food, right?” Sam asked cautiously.

Dean smirked. “Would you relax?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Next time, please don’t accept random drinks from sketchy bartenders in witch towns.”

“Hey, lesson learned,” Dean said with a grin. “But admit it… being me for a day was kinda fun wasn't it?”

Sam shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

Fictober Day 10

prompt: "Is this normal?"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Jack Kline, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Rating: General

Summary:

Jack’s POV: Jack is experiencing weird human things (a common cold) for the first time and he goes to Sam for help

Sam was sitting in the library reading a large ancient book on demons. Jack nervously walked into the room to talk to him but changed his mind and walked back to his room.

A few minutes later he returned to the library before chickening out again and retreating to his room.

The third time he walked into the library Sam finally said something before he could walk away. “Do you need something, kid?” he asks.

Jack hesitated. “I think I'm having a problem…” he said cryptically.

“What kind of problem?”

“A human one… I think.”

“Come sit,” Sam instructed. “What's going on?” 

“I’m experiencing… pain,” he said as if it were a question and not a statement. “In my head… and all over– but mostly in my head. And it's not my thoughts its like my brain itself is hurting.”

“Huh,” Sam said as he put the pieces together that Jack was probably just experiencing his first headache. 

“There is also a discomfort on the inside of my esophagus and inside of my nose. Is this normal? Am I dying?” 

Sam chuckles slightly at the questions. “No, you're gonna be fine. Sounds like you just have a cold or something. Don’t worry it’s normal for humans to get colds, they go away with time and rest.” 

“Rest?” 

“Yeah. Why don't you go back to your room and lie down? I'll come take your temperature and bring you some medicine in a bit.”

“And I’ll be okay?”

“Of course,” Sam reassured him. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

Jack went back to his room glad he was able to ask Sam about his ailments but still troubled by them. He was still so new to life that all of it was just as stressful as it would be for any newborn baby but Jack was actually old enough to be worried. 

Cas had a very limited knowledge of what was normal for humans since his experience as a human only lasted for a few months and Jack found it hard to ask Dean anything. Sam was the only one he could go to for things like this. 

When Sam came back to Jack’s room he had Cas in tow. 

“Sam told me you might have the flu,” Cas said as he sat on the edge of Jack’s bed. “May I?” he asks as he holds his hand up to Jack’s head.

Jack nods and Cas places his fingers on his forehead to check the state of his immune system on a molecular level. 

“Just as Sam suspected it’s an upper respiratory tract infection,” Cas said.

“Which is a clinical way of saying common cold,” Sam added as he poured 20 ml of Tylenol into a tiny cup. He had run up the street to pick it up because he didn’t want to have to try to teach Jack how to swallow a pill while he was already stressed. “Here drink this and then some water,” he said handing him the medicine and a water bottle. 

Jack did as instructed and then set the water on his nightstand. “So is that going to make this feeling go away?”

“Not immediately,” Sam said. “It'll take a bit to kick in and even after it does your symptoms overall might get worse before they get better but it'll all be over in a few days.”

“Ok,” Jack said finally calming down a bit.

“I brought you a box of tissues in case your nose starts running, cold drops if your throat is still bothering you, and a trash can in case you get nauseous.”

“And I can stay to watch over you,” Cas added.

“Now get some sleep and we'll all be right here if you need us.”

1. “that was good work” | Koffee x Reader

Summary: One day, Mikayla disrupts her private chef. Could it be the beginning of something great?

Rating: PG

Genre: Romance, fluff

Word Count: 1068

A/N: So I’m doing Fictober! I’ll be challenging myself to publish daily this month which I believe will heal the overly critical relationship I’ve had with my writing the past few months. I suspect it will feel good to just write more and worry less about reception and perfection. Most of what I write will be short blurbs like headcanons and drabbles. Feedback is always appreciated! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, the link is in the pinned post on my page.

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You had your routine down to a science. Show up once a week, put on your headphones, and get to work. You’d been cooking for Mikayla for a few months now, but it never felt like a job. She was always somewhere in the house, but you never saw her. It suited you just fine—no awkward conversations, just the rhythm of your favorite tunes as you chopped, sautéed, and cleaned.

Today was no different. You had already started on her meal prep, humming along to your playlist. The sizzle of vegetables filled the air, and you twirled a wooden spoon in your hand, feeling completely in your element.

Then, out of nowhere, someone cleared their throat. You froze, heart skipping a beat, and pulled out one of your earbuds. Standing in front of you, wearing an oversized hoodie and track pants, was Mikayla.

"Mi nuh mean fi startle yuh," she said, her voice lilting in that vaguely familiar honey-like voice, the one you’d only ever heard through walls or faintly from another room.

You fumbled with the spoon, almost dropping it in the pan. "No, no! It’s fine. I just—uh—I didn’t hear you come in."

Mikayla laughed softly, the sound warm and easy. "Doh mind me. Mi always see yuh vibe." She made a little dance move, mimicking how you must’ve looked swaying to the music. Your face heated up immediately.

"Uh, yeah… I, um, like to get in the groove while I work."

Mikayla glanced at the counter, eyeing the half-prepped meal. "Do yuh eva consider a teach mi fi cook?"

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her right. "Me? Teach you?"

"Why not?” she said, stepping closer and peering into the pot on the stove. "I want to learn, but mi feel like mi too frighten fi di kitchen, yuh know? Yuh mek it look easy so."

Your heart did that weird little flip it had started doing ever since you first saw her up close at the beginning of the job. Back then, it was professional—just introductions. But now, with her standing here, asking you to teach her to cook? This was different.

You tried to play it cool. "Well, uh, it’s not that hard. You just need some basics, like how to chop properly and—"

"A wha' yuh call dis?" Mikayla interrupted, picking up a kohlrabi like it was an alien artifact.

You stifled a laugh. "That’s kohlrabi."

"Kohlrabi," she repeated, raising an eyebrow as if the word itself was suspicious. "It look strange."

"You’ll get used to it," you said, pulling out a cutting board. "Alright, let’s start simple. I’ll show you how to chop."

You demonstrated with another kohlrabi, your hands moving smoothly as you sliced through it. When you handed her the knife, she stared at it like she was about to defuse a bomb.

"Mi nuh promise nuttin' good here," she muttered, gripping the knife awkwardly. Her first cut was more of a hack than a slice, and the kohlrabi flew off the counter and onto the floor.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Mikayla gasped, her face a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"I warned you!" she said, laughing along with you.

"Okay, okay, let’s try again." You picked up the runaway vegetable and handed it back to her. "This time, gentle. Just follow through with the knife."

With some hesitation, Mikayla tried again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a solid improvement. You smiled. "There you go, that’s better!"

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "Yuh zimme."

As you both moved onto the next step—seasoning the dish—you found yourself more and more distracted. Every time Mikayla leaned in to ask a question or brush past you to grab an ingredient, you were hyper-aware of how close she was. It didn’t help that every now and then, your hands would bump or she’d flash you a quick smile that made your stomach flutter.

"Raatid- mi add too much," she muttered after pouring half the bottle of garlic powder into the pot.

You smirked. "Maybe just a little. We can fix it."

"Yuh a lie," she said with a laugh, shaking her head. "Yuh nuh haffi be nice 'bout mi terrible cooking."

"I’m serious! You’re not that bad," you said, your voice a little quieter now, as if admitting some secret.

She paused, catching your eye for a beat longer than before. "Mi glad yuh here," she said softly, her usual playful tone replaced with something gentler.

Before you could even process that, the pot bubbled over, and both of you scrambled to fix it, the moment lost in a flurry of sizzling and laughter.

Maybe you didn't do as well as you could have, and maybe there was a little too much garlic in the sauce, but as Mikayla smiled next to you, her laugh still lingering in the air, you didn’t mind one bit.

You wiped your hands on a towel and glanced at her. "That was good work," you said, grinning despite yourself.

Mikayla raised an eyebrow, smirking back. "Good? After mi nearly mash up di kitchen?"

You chuckled. "Hey, we made it through without burning anything down. That counts for something."

She smiled, the kind that made your heart flip. "Well, I’m proud of us."

As you handed her the spoon, your fingers brushed lightly against hers, and you both paused for just a moment, eyes meeting. Mikayla’s smile lingered, softer now, as if she noticed the shift too. The room felt warmer, though the stove was off, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“Yuh really patient, yuh know?” she said, stirring the pot slowly. Then, with a playful smirk, she added, “An’ cute when yuh serious.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh… thanks,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up.

She glanced up at you with a playful grin. “Maybe mi should mek yuh come by more often den.” Her tone was light, teasing, but the way her eyes lingered made your heart skip a beat, leaving you wondering if there was more behind her words than just a joke.

Mikayla ladled the food into two bowls and placed them on the counter. She slid onto one of the stools, resting her elbows casually on the counter, and nodded toward the other bowl. 

"Come siddung,” she said, her tone soft but playful. “Yuh nuh gaan leave mi eat alone, right?"

2. "it's been a long time" | Letitia Wright x Reader

Summary: Will a familiar face reignite the spark you thought was lost?

Rating: PG

Genre: Romance, slow-burn

Word Count: 1911

A/N: So I’m back for day 2 of fictober! As always, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

The evening sky over London was in that strange twilight zone between “charmingly moody” and “probably going to rain on you at the worst possible time.” The kind of night that made you grateful for indoor events, even if that event happened to be your high school reunion.

You stood just outside the venue—a modest hotel ballroom near the Thames—mentally bracing yourself. Who even goes to these things willingly? Most people would rather delete all evidence of their teenage years, not voluntarily relive them with people who last saw them in braces and questionable fashion choices. But here you were, about to step back into a room full of people who probably remembered you as that awkward girl who tripped over a bench on Sports Day.

“Just get through it,” you muttered to yourself, taking a deep breath and pushing open the door.

Immediately, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia—both good and bad. The venue had tried for elegance, but it felt more like someone had half-heartedly Googled “classy” and ran with the first result. Large printouts of yearbook pictures, of all things, lined the entryway, and there was a photo booth where people were already cramming themselves for awkward snapshots.

You hadn’t taken more than a few steps before Jamie Winters—the man who looked like he was still mentally stuck in Year 11—bounded over to you with a wide grin.

“Hey! You made it!” he exclaimed, already launching into some story about football and glory days.

You nodded along, sipping the cheap wine you picked up near the door, though your mind was elsewhere. You hadn’t come here for Jamie Winters and his incessant recounting of a single goal he made during a game none of you remembered. No. There was only one reason you were here tonight.

And then you saw her.

Letitia stood on the far side of the room, her warm brown skin glowing under the lights and her long, toned legs appearing out of a sleek skirt suit. She was in conversation with a few other classmates, though it was clear she wasn’t paying much attention to them. Her eyes scanned the room, and when they found you, they lit up with unmistakable recognition.

A jolt of nerves hit your stomach. This wasn’t like seeing an old friend; it was more like facing an unresolved chapter of your life. In high school, the two of you had hovered around each other, never quite breaking into that next level, despite a connection you couldn’t explain. You hadn’t spoken to her since graduation. No texts, no social media, nothing.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed her until right now.

Letitia’s smile widened, and without breaking her gaze, she excused herself from the group and started walking toward you. The crowd seemed to part for her effortlessly, like she commanded the room with just her presence. She always had that quiet, easy confidence—the kind that made you simultaneously want to be around her and feel totally inadequate in her orbit.

When she reached you, she grinned and said, “Well, well. If it isn’t the bookworm. How’ve you been?”

Your throat went dry, but you managed a casual smirk. “It’s been a long time.”

Letitia let out a laugh, one of those soft, genuine ones that made your heart skip. “Yeah, too long. Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I could say the same thing,” you replied, trying to keep your cool despite the fact that your pulse was doing its best to sabotage you. “I figured you’d be too busy, you know, taking over the world.”

“Hardly,” she said, leaning in a little as if sharing a secret. “But I did come back to London, and apparently this reunion was calling my name. You?”

You shrugged. “Same. Still here. I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You always were. Remember Mr. Thompson’s history class? I swear you were the only one who actually cared about that ridiculous essay on the Tudors.”

You groaned, covering your face. “Don’t remind me. I had a lot of misplaced academic ambition.”

She tilted her head, still smiling, though now there was something softer in her expression. “It suited you. You always knew where you were going, even if the rest of us were just trying to survive.”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t realized she’d noticed you at all, not in the way you noticed her. “Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone really knows where they’re going at sixteen.”

Letitia raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. But you were always different. Still are.”

The compliment landed square in your chest, and suddenly, it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. You could sense the shift in the conversation, the same subtle tension that had always hovered between you two.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Letitia said abruptly, glancing toward the dance floor, where a few people were trying and failing to get some kind of party started. “I don’t think we really belong at this cringe fest, do you?”

“God, no.” You laughed, relieved and intrigued by the sudden suggestion. “Where should we go?”

“I know a place,” she said, winking as she turned and headed toward the door.

You followed her out into the night, the cool air a welcome change from the stuffy ballroom. She led you down a few winding streets, the sounds of the city wrapping around you like a familiar melody. Eventually, you found yourselves at a quiet, little pub—warm lights spilling out onto the pavement, the hum of conversation just loud enough to feel lively but not overwhelming.

As soon as you stepped inside, you felt more at ease. Letitia slid into a booth near the back, her low-cut hair appearing to dazzle under the dim light. You sat across from her, the table between you suddenly feeling like both a barrier and a bridge.

She took a sip of her drink and looked at you thoughtfully. “You know,” she said slowly, “I always thought we’d stay in touch after school.”

Your breath hitched. “Yeah…same.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Then why didn’t we?”

You didn’t have a good answer. Or maybe you did, but it wasn’t something you were ready to admit. “Life, I guess. Things just…got in the way.”

Letitia watched you for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But maybe we can change that now.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, smiling that slow, knowing smile that made your heart do flips, “maybe it’s not too late to pick up where we left off.”

You stared at her, trying to read the depth in her gaze. The tension between you was thick, almost tangible, and yet there was an ease to it too—like the two of you were finally stepping into a moment that had been years in the making.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Letitia beat you to it, her voice low and full of promise.

“Besides,” she said with a playful smirk, “we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

3. “I know you better” | Janelle Monáe x Reader

Summary: There's no way your boss is jealous of your coworker, right?

Rating: Mature

Genre: Romance, smut

Word Count: 2759

A/N: Back for Fictober Day 3! This time with spice. Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You were fiddling with the coffee machine, determined to figure it out without spilling coffee everywhere, when—

“Boo!”

You jumped, nearly spilling your cup. “Victoria!” you shouted, spinning around. “Seriously?”

Victoria leaned against the counter, grinning, her bright brown eyes full of mischief. “What? You looking way too focused on that. I had to.”

“I’m trying not to break it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “That’s basically my goal today—don’t break anything.”

Victoria laughed, her balayaged hair bouncing as she flipped it back into place with her claw clip. “Good job then, sis. You ain’t explode anything yet, did you?”

“Not yet,” you sighed. “But there’s still time. Director Robinson’s probably waiting for me to mess up her schedule again.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You still stressing over that? It ain’t like she would fire you. She’d have to start doing her own work if she did.”

“She’s not that bad,” you said, a little defensively. “She’s just… different.”

Victoria’s grin widened. “Different, huh? Like the singing in the middle of meetings or showing up to work dressed like an extra on the Purple Rain set?”

You crossed your arms. “So what? She’s quirky. That doesn’t mean she’s not good at her job.”

“I mean, sure,” Victoria said, laughing softly, “but let’s keep it a buck, it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s humming Rick James in the elevator.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Okay, fine, she’s a little weird. But she’s under a lot of pressure. Plus, she’s actually really nice.”

“Oh, I know she’s nice,” Victoria said, “just… not in a ‘boss’ way. More like a freaky auntie.”

You snorted. “She’s definitely got her own style.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Victoria said with a wink. “But look, you only been here a few months, and you’re already on top of it. If you got past the singing and outfits, you should be alright.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “Thanks. I’m just trying not to get fired.”

“Girl, please,” Victoria said, waving you off. “You’re her right hand. She’d probably get lost in her own office without you.”

“Yeah, because marketing’s so much less chaotic, right?” you teased, finally starting to relax.

“Hey, at least we don’t get musical numbers in the middle of the day,” Victoria shot back, grinning. “But if you need a break from all that, I’m always up for lunch. We can talk shit about my punk ass supervisor.”

“Deal,” you said, smiling. “And thanks for the jump scare. You really know how to brighten someone’s day.”

“Anytime,” she said, raising her mug. “Here’s to surviving another day with our sanity mostly intact.”

“Barely,” you said, clinking your cup against hers.

You and Victoria were in the middle of laughing when Director Robinson appeared in the doorway, catching you both off guard. She leaned in with an easy, almost casual smile. Her short frame was draped in a burnt orange suit, adorned with funky accessories that somehow worked despite their oddity. Her chocolate skin seemed to glow against the bold color, and your gaze lingered on her long eyelashes and babydoll-like face, framed by doe eyes, soft cheeks, and a button nose. You felt a strange flutter in your chest, an unexplainable warmth as you took in her beauty, though you couldn’t quite understand why.

“Well, well, well,” she said smoothly, her voice cutting through the room like velvet. “Look at you two, thick as thieves. I’ve been searching high and low for you.”

You straightened up, your grip tightening on your coffee cup. “Oh, sorry, Director. I was just taking a break with Victoria.”

“Mmhmm.” Robinson’s eyes flicked to Victoria, then back to you, her smile widening. “And what exactly were you discussing? I hope I’m not interrupting anything… personal.”

Victoria shot you a playful look, clearly amused. “Just catching up. Nothing too juicy, Director.”

Robinson’s gaze lingered on Victoria a little too long before she turned back to you, her smile never faltering. “Catching up, are we? How delightful. Well, Victoria, I’m sure your little corner of the building misses you desperately. Don’t let me keep you from… whatever it is you do.” Her tone remained light, almost whimsical, but there was no mistaking the undertone of dismissal.

Victoria chuckled, giving you a wink. “See you around.” And with that, she slipped out, leaving you alone with the Director, whose focus shifted entirely to you.

She took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly in a way that made you feel like she knew more than she should. “Now, Miss,” she began, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You and Victoria seem… cozy. How long have you two been ‘catching up,’ exactly?”

You felt the heat rise to your face. “Oh, we’re just friends,” you stammered. “We used to be interns together, that’s all.”

Robinson raised an eyebrow, her smile playful yet knowing. “Mmm, I’m sure. But here’s something to think about,” she said, leaning in with a wink. “Spend too much time with Victoria, and you might catch her vibe. She’s got that energy, always looking at you a little too closely, don’t you think? Could cramp your style… unless you like that kind of attention.” She flashed a sardonic grin, as if you were both in on a secret.

You blinked, completely thrown. “Wait, you think—No, it’s not like that at all. We’re really just friends.”

Robinson’s eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “Of course, of course,” she said, her tone smooth as silk. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to see anything… unnecessary develop.”

You swallowed hard, feeling like you were trapped in some bizarre game. “I appreciate the concern, but seriously, there’s nothing going on.”

“Good,” the Director said, straightening up, her tone slipping back into that easy, natural flow. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to focus on than office romances. Now, let’s get back to it. I have some exciting new ideas for the filing system that are going to blow your mind.”

You followed her out, still trying to process the whole conversation, wondering how a coffee break with Victoria had spiraled into this weird, almost flirty lecture. But then again, that was Director Robinson—always leaving you more confused than when you started.

You’d been sorting through a mountain of documents for three hours, the office now eerily quiet after everyone else had filtered out. You leaned back against the desk, squinting at the papers under the dim light of a desk lamp, the glow casting a warm hue that felt strangely intimate in the silence.

Just as you were about to dive back into your work, you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Before you could turn, the Director’s voice wafted over your shoulder, smooth and easy, sending a jolt of surprise through you. “You’ve really got a knack for this, you know.”

You jumped slightly, then turned your head to see her standing there, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a relaxed smile on her lips. “Oh, hey, Director,” you said, trying to play it cool but feeling your heart race.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she glanced over the papers. “You’re doing a fantastic job,” she continued, her tone casual yet intimate. “Really. These documents are starting to look more like an organized masterpiece than the usual chaotic mess.”

You shifted slightly, acutely aware of her presence. “Thanks, I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Ah, but you’re more than just keeping up,” she said, gently rubbing your right shoulder as she continued to read over your left. The warmth of her touch was unexpected, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s all about that attention to detail. Tell me, how do you manage to stay so composed while everyone else is running around like headless chickens?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your focus on the documents, but her proximity was distracting. “I guess I just try to stay organized. It helps me avoid mistakes,” you replied, your voice coming out steadier than you felt.

“Mmm, good approach,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “But let’s be honest. There’s more to life than just work, don’t you think?” She paused, her gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “What do you do for fun outside these walls?”

You felt a flutter of nerves at the question. “I—uh, not much lately. Just focusing on settling in.”

Janelle tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Just settling in, huh? No hobbies? No wild nights out? Come now, you can’t tell me a bright star like you has no scandalous stories to share.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, the way she was looking at you making it difficult to find your voice. “Not really. I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” she said, leaning in even closer, her tone conspiratorial. “I bet there’s a little rebel in you, waiting to escape. A night out, perhaps? Or maybe someone special who’s been keeping your attention?”

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the question. “Honestly, it’s just work. I haven’t had time for anything else.”

The Director’s laughter was warm and inviting, but it felt charged, like the air before a storm. “Poor thing, you really need learn to carve out time for yourself. Life’s too short to be all work and no play. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a more intimate whisper, “you should call me Janelle. No need for formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

The way she said your name sent another rush of heat through you. You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “Okay, Janelle…”

“Much better,” she said, her voice silky as she straightened up, releasing your shoulder. “Now, tell me about your ideal weekend. What does that look like for you?”

You hesitated, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. “Um, I guess just hanging out with friends, maybe going out for dinner or something.”

Janelle leaned back, crossing her arms and regarding you with a mix of curiosity and mischief. “Dinner, you say? With friends or a special someone?”

You couldn’t help but fidget, the question landing heavier than expected. “Just friends. Really. I mean, it’s not like—”

Janelle interrupted, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Not like what? Come now, I promise I don’t bite… much.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly, as if genuinely interested in the answer.

You bit your lip, glancing away, feeling like you were trapped in a delicate dance. “Just friends. That’s all. Nothing romantic going on.”

Janelle studied you for a moment, and the room felt charged with unspoken tension. “Well, I’d say you’re due for a little romance, don’t you think?”

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling inside you as you met her gaze, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something unknown.

You watched Janelle with a mixture of fascination and apprehension, her gaze intense as she leaned closer, her body practically brushing against yours. She placed her coffee down with deliberate care, the movement slow and almost theatrical, as if she were choreographing a moment.

“Really,” she said, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, “I think what you need is someone who knows how to treat you right. Someone with a bit more... experience.”

Your heart raced as she stepped closer, effectively caging you between her body and the desk, the warmth of her presence enveloping you. The sudden proximity made it hard to breathe, and you could feel the tension in the air thicken like molasses. 

“What do you mean by ‘experience’?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to keep your composure.

Janelle tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Oh, you know. Someone who understands what a woman like you truly deserves. Someone who can take charge, show you what you’ve been missing. You may think you know what you want, but…” She leaned in even closer, her eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “I know you better.”

Your heart raced as her words wrapped around you like a spell, making it difficult to form a coherent thought. “I—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger gently resting against your lips. “Just imagine it. Someone who can help you unwind after a long week. Someone who knows how to treat you, to bring out that wild side you’re hiding.”

You swallowed hard, caught between the thrill of her words and the uncertainty of the moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Janelle’s expression shifted, her gaze piercing into yours with an intensity that felt like a challenge. “Oh, but you do. Deep down, you crave something more, don’t you? Someone older, someone who knows how to navigate... complicated feelings.” She leaned in even closer, her breath warm against your skin. “Isn’t that right?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you met her gaze, the playful teasing morphing into something more serious, more alluring. It felt like she was unraveling something inside you, and you didn’t know whether to lean in or pull away.

“Janelle, I—” you started, but she cut you off again, her voice low and sultry.

“Just think about it,” she said, her body barely an inch away from yours. “You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are. Let me show you what I mean.”

The room felt charged, every word hanging in the air like a dare, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was only the beginning of something that could change everything.

The tension in the room was electric, wrapping around you like a tightly wound coil ready to snap. Janelle's gaze locked onto yours, her presence overwhelming as she leaned closer, her body nearly pressed against yours. The air was thick with anticipation, and every second felt like a countdown to something inevitable.

“Just think about it,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. “You deserve someone who knows how to bring out the real you. Someone who isn’t afraid to take what they want.”

Before you could process the weight of her words, Janelle surged forward, her lips crashing against yours with a fierce intensity that left you breathless. It was no gentle kiss; it was primal and demanding, igniting a fire deep within you. Her mouth moved against yours with a desperation that was intoxicating, a raw force that sent your heart racing.

You gasped, caught off guard, but instinct took over as you melted into her, your hands finding their way to her arms. Janelle deepened the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a boldness that made your head spin. The heat radiating from her body enveloped you, and you felt yourself being pulled into her orbit, losing track of everything else in the world.

Janelle’s hands gripped your waist, pushing you back against the desk, trapping you in place. The urgency of her touch sent shockwaves through you, igniting a wild craving you didn’t know you had. You could feel the tension building between you, an undeniable chemistry that simmered just below the surface.

As she pulled back slightly, her lips barely brushing against yours, you could see the hunger in her eyes—an insatiable need that mirrored your own. “I know you want this,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it.”

You blinked, your mind racing, but before you could formulate a response, Janelle closed the gap again, kissing you harder, more forcefully this time. It was as if she was claiming you, each movement deliberate and commanding, as if she were saying without words that this was where you belonged.

You were lost in the moment, your heart pounding in your chest as your body instinctively responded to her. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the heat between you, the way she made you feel—alive, desired, and utterly consumed.

“God, you’re perfect,” Janelle murmured against your lips, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Just give in.”

Your heart raced as her kiss deepened again, her hands roaming your sides possessively. It was a whirlwind of passion, urgency, and a hint of danger that left you craving more, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something explosive.

Fictober Masterlist

A/N: Here I will be keeping track of my daily fictober updates. Feedback is always appreciated <3

"that was good work"

"it's been a long time"

"I know you better"

"no, we're not doing that"

"it's a new day, let's go"

"I'm not giving up"

"follow me if you want to live"

"are we happy?"

"don't listen to me, listen to them"

"is this normal?"

"well, that worked out great"

"did you hear that?"

"that's not the point"

"did you stick to the plan?"

"let's try this"

"no, I'm not okay"

"strangest thing I ever heard"

"you always have a plan"

"this is getting ridiculous"

"I saw your eyes light up"

"we've done worse"

"why are we doing this again?"

"we can fix this, I know we can"

"you didn't do anything wrong"

"it consumes me"

"you were the first"

"let me remind you"

"just say what you want"

"how did this happen?"

"I won't let you down"

"it's always been you"

4. "no, we're not doing that" | Ari Lennox x Reader

Summary: Has living with your new girlfriend tested your limits—or opened your heart?

Rating: PG

Genre: Romance, fluff

Word Count: 737

A/N: And we're back for Fictober with Day 4! How do y'all feel about me expanding my fictional universe? Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You sat cross-legged on the couch, cradling a warm mug of tea. The soft patter of rain against the window created a gentle rhythm, almost lulling you into a state of calm. But that peace shattered when the front door swung open, letting in a gust of wind and the unmistakable chaos of Ari.

She stumbled in, soaked to the bone, her dark curls clinging to her face as she shook them out, sending water droplets across the room. Her oversized hoodie dripped onto the floor, and despite the mess, she was laughing—a sound that tugged at something inside you, even as your frustration began to build.

Before you could say anything, you noticed the small movement in her arms. At first, it looked like she was just adjusting her grip, but then a tiny head popped out from under her hoodie. A puppy, no more than a few months old, squirmed against her chest, its blonde fur slicked with rain. Big brown eyes blinked up at you, wide and innocent.

“Look who I found outside!” Ari’s voice bubbled with excitement, her melodic voice carrying through the room. “I couldn’t just leave him, could I? Poor thing was just sitting there, looking up at me like this.” She tilted her head, mimicking the puppy’s wide-eyed stare.

You blinked, a knot tightening in your chest. “Ari, it’s pouring out there. Do you want to get sick again?” You set your mug down, trying to steady the wave of irritation rising inside. It wasn’t just the rain, or the puppy—it was everything. The clutter, the late nights, the sense that your space was no longer yours. What had started as a temporary stay while she looked for a new place had turned into months, and now she was bringing home stray dogs.

Ari stepped closer, water pooling around her feet. She held the puppy out for you to see, her eyes shining as she smiled. “Would you rather I left him in the cold? We have to let him stay!”

You stared at the tiny creature wriggling in her hands, your resolve weakening despite yourself. “No,” you sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “we’re not doing that. Look at this place—it’s already a mess.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, she looked almost hurt. But she quickly masked it, holding the puppy closer to her chest. “He doesn’t take up much space,” she said softly. “And I could clean up more, if that’s what you need.”

Your frustration flared again. “It’s not just the cleaning. I can’t handle this... this chaos. You keep leaving things everywhere, and now you want to add a dog? It’s too much, Ari.”

She bit her lip, shifting her weight. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. But I love it here. With you.” Her voice had softened, and for once, she wasn’t smiling. “I just thought… maybe he could increase the happiness even more.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. You rubbed your temples, trying to find the right response. She wasn’t wrong. You did love her energy, her warmth—but it was overwhelming, suffocating even. Still, you couldn’t deny the flicker of guilt creeping in.

You let out a slow breath. “Fine,” you said, your tone more resigned than anything. “We can keep him… for now. Until we find him a proper home. But that’s it. And he’s not chewing my shoes.”

Ari’s face lit up, her grin wide and infectious. “You won’t regret it! I promise.”

As she scooped the puppy back into her arms, cradling it gently, a small part of you softened. The rain continued to fall outside, but somehow, the room felt a little warmer. Maybe the mess wasn’t the real problem. Maybe it was the fact that, deep down, you knew Ari was wiggling her way into your life, just like the puppy. And no matter how much you resisted, it was starting to feel like she wasn’t going anywhere.

You glanced at her, rolling your eyes with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Just don’t let him take over the apartment.”

“Oh, no promises,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I have a feeling he’ll fit in just fine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension melting away. For now, the chaos felt manageable. And maybe, just maybe, it was starting to feel like home.

5. "it's a new day, let's go" | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Can you build a future when your girlfriend is still looking back?

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Romance, angst, fluff

Word Count: 628

A/N: Here we are with Fictober Day 5. And I'm finally writing for Riri! Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You’d been free for a month now, trying your best to get your life together, but Riri had only been out for a few days, and already, it was like she couldn’t sit still.

The apartment wasn’t much, but it was something—a place to start over. You’d spent the past few weeks getting it set up, making it cozy. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous, but after everything, you were grateful just to have a space that was yours. That you worked for. Riri, though? She had other ideas.

She was pacing around again, her energy bouncing off the walls. The little living room, the one you had taken so much pride in decorating, felt like it couldn’t contain her.

“Ay, we gotta make sumn shake.” Riri muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you caught it.

You sighed, glancing at her. “Riri, what is it now?”

She turned to you, eyes wide, like she was ready to spring into action. “We can’t live like this. You think this is it? I can’t sit here and play house while we broke. I ain’t built for it.”

Your stomach dropped. You’d been waiting for this. You knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. “We ain’t broke, Riri. I got this place. I got a job lined up. We gon’ be alright.”

Riri scoffed, shaking her head. “A job? What, they paying you pennies an hour to clean up after other people? We could be getting plenty bread if we made one move. Just one. You know that.”

You stood up, crossing your arms, trying to keep calm. “Riri, we just got out. You really wanna go back to all that? We got a chance here. We can do this the right way.”

Riri’s face twisted in frustration. “I was locked up for eight months, listening to folks who ain’t never had shit talk about what was finna happen when they got out. They don’t know what the fuck going on. But we know what’s good, baby. Don’t act like you ain’t miss it.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, firmer this time. “I don’t miss any of it. What, you wanna always be looking over your shoulder? Waiting to get caught again?”

Riri stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know I ain’t scared of that. We were good at it. I just hate seeing you in here, tryin' to make it work on scraps. You deserve better.”

You looked around the small apartment, feeling a pang of frustration yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. “I got better. I got us this apartment. We ain’t livin’ fancy, but we free. Ain’t that enough?”

Riri’s eyes softened a little, but she was still restless, like she was fighting a battle inside. “I don’t wanna see you struggling, Mama. I wanna give you more than this. You know I could.”

You reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer to you. “We don’t need more. We need this. A real shot. I worked hard for this place, Riri. I ain’t finna throw it all away just ‘cause we miss the money. We gotta be smart now.”

She stared at you, the tension in her shoulders easing a little, but she still looked torn. “But what if it ain’t enough?”

You held her hand tighter, locking eyes with her. “It’s enough for now. It’s a new day, let’s go. We got each other, and that’s what matters. We’ll make it, but we gotta stay straight.”

For a moment, Riri was quiet, then she let out a long breath, her whole body relaxing. “Aight,” she mumbled, though there was still a flicker of doubt in her voice. “We’ll do it your way. For now.”

6. "I'm not giving up" | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Can you build a future when your girlfriend is still looking back?

Rating: Mature (due to language)

Genre: Romance, angst

Word Count: 533

A/N: So we have made it to Day 6 of Fictober! Everyone seemed to want the drabble from yesterday to continue, which I agree is a good idea. I'll keep the word count low so I can continuously update this alongside the other stories I'm working on. Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul

You stood at the sink, scrubbing the dishes from another long day, but your mind wasn’t on the soap suds or the dull hum of the kitchen lights. No, you were replaying the conversation with Riri over and over. You'd told her it was enough for now, but in truth, things weren’t fine.

The pay from the dental office was short again—second time this month. You could barely cover rent, let alone the bills that kept stacking up. Going to your evening dental assistant program was the only thing that gave you a sense of hope, but even that was wearing you down.

Riri walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching you with that sharp, calculating gaze of hers. "You ain't told me how work was today."

You shook your head, gripping the sponge tighter. "Same as always. Pay was short again."

Riri scoffed. "The fuck? We supposed to keep living like this? You finna let them keep punking you out your money like that, Ma?"

"Riri, I don't have time for another job right now. I'm going to school every night—"

"Yeah, for that certificate shit," Riri interrupted, folding her arms. "Look, I get it. You got dreams. That's cute, real cute, but at this rate, you finna be working these bullshit jobs for the next ten years just to pay off the student loans. And where that leave us? Still scraping by."

You put the plate down, wiping your hands on a rag as you turned to face her. “I’m not giving up. You think scrubbing toilets and mopping floors is easy? I’m doing everything I can.”

Riri sighed, running a hand over her face. "I ain't saying you not, but you gotta see reality, baby. If things don’t start looking up soon, I might have no choice but to go back to my old ways."

Your chest tightened. “What you tryna say?"

"I'm saying, I can hold us down," she said softly, but there was a hardness in her voice. "But I ain’t about to sit here and watch you kill yourself over chump change. We got options. I’m not letting us starve just 'cause you wanna play by the rules."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the frustration bubbling up. “Riri, I’m not about to throw away everything I’m working for just ‘cause things are rough right now. I know it’s hard, but we can’t go back. Not now.”

Riri stepped closer, her voice lowering. "And what if you don’t make it through that program? What if they keep shorting your checks? You ever think about that?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words, but you held your ground. "I’m making it through. One day. I’mma even get a degree. I’ll get there, Riri. I just need time."

She studied you for a moment, then nodded, but you could still see the tension in her brown eyes. "Aight, I hear you. But if things don’t change soon, we gon’ need a different plan. I love you, but I can't sit still forever."

You watched her walk out of the kitchen, her words lingering in the air like a storm cloud that hadn't quite passed.