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[cythena]

TOUCH ME TEASE ME FEEL ME UP

❥ — ꒰ notes ꒱ gojo, yuuji, toji, nanami x fem!reader, making out, public (yuuji), semi public (gojo, toji, nanami), cursing, tit sucking (gojo), there’s no sex but very suggestive, everyone gets cockblocked

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ you looked so good for them and they couldn’t resist getting their hands and lips on you

SATORU GOJO ✰ BACKSEAT

he always had ijichi take you two around. he still has no idea how he convinced ijichi to drive you both around. satoru decided to take you on a date to a high class sushi restaurant in the city. you deserved it after the stressful mission you had. so you dressed up. you wore a tight deep blue dress (that he bought for you) and these black heels. he loved the way your legs looked in heels. they shaped your body nicely.

as you walked into the restaurant, he rested his hand on your back right before your ass curved. he couldn’t resist touching you when you looked so perfect. when you sat in front of him he admired your chest and collarbone adorned by the jewelry he gifted you. seeing you made the strongest’s ego swell up even more.

on your way back to the car ijichi texted satoru he would be back to the car in a minute and he didn’t mind at all. he didn’t tell you but he did start rushing you to the car just a little. when you were in your seat he pounced.

he protected your head from hitting the window with his hand. his body crawled on top of you and caged you in. he rubbed his hands against your thighs to pull your dress above your hips. you pushed his head harder against your collarbone. he sucked harshly at your skin until he was confident you had a dark purple bruise. “oh! s-satoru! ijichi-”

“isn’t here right now,” he cut you off and pressed another kiss to your lips. he moved to pull the top of your dress down. now he could see your braless tits. he slurped your nipples obnoxiously loud. “you just look so fucking sexy right now. i’ve been so hot for you since i saw you.”

you whined at his words. he sat up and pulled you down to lie flat on the seat. he lifted your ankle onto his shoulder. his lips focused on kissing your soft ankle and higher. your tits were covered in bite marks illuminated by the moonlight flowing into the car. satoru rubbed two fingers right against your clit through your thin panties.

“you wearin’ a thong?” he teased. you nodded with a loud moan when he squeezed your skin. he shifted his arm underneath your waist to flip you over. “shit- ‘ve gotta see that.”

suddenly someone cleared their throat. satoru languidly pulled himself away from you. his fingers still rubbed at your slit. you scrambled to fix your appearance. in the rear view mirror ijichi’s glasses reflected. you shamefully pulled your dress up and smoothed out the bottom.

“these tinted windows shouldn’t be abused,” the driver muttered to satoru. you could only wished to be as shameless as your boyfriend.

YUUJI ITADORI✰ BEACH

yuuji loved the beach. there was only one thing he loved more, your ass. so imagine his delight when getting to combine his two favorite things. nobara was a genius for planning this day. you had on a cute pink bikini. he remembers you picking it and showing him. it looked pretty online but he didn’t imagine it could look so perfect on you.

the small cups hugged your boobs to your chest and at first you had on the matching beach skirt. he held your hand while you walked to a nice secluded spot to hold for you and your friends. when your spot was ready, you untied the knot at the side and let the skirt fall.

yuuji was looking through your bag for sunscreen at the time. you were facing the ocean while talking to him. when he looked up he caught a beautiful sight of you. your skin was barely covered, it was so delicious to look at. it glimmered in the sun too. he could’ve sworn his mouth was watering. you turned around when he didn’t respond to your question.

“c’mere baby, real quick,” he murmured in a trance. he pulled you onto his lap. his hands played with your ass, fondling and squishing it. your tits were right in front his face too. “you look so pretty, my pretty girl right.” he said with a kiss to your shoulder.

he kissed up your neck and onto your lips. you held the sides of his face as your tongues met. your cunt rubbed against his crotch. he groaned into your mouth. your tongues swirled around each other’s.

“yuuj, calm down,” you giggled. he only pouted and leaned back in to kiss you. you didn’t resist him. your nails tickled his scalp from his undercut. he cock pressed through his shorts. he brought his hand to play with your boob from underneath the thin layer of your top. he pinched and toyed with your nipple.

“‘m sorry baby, your lips taste good. i can’t help it.” his cheeks flushed furiously. your head fell back in a laugh. you kissed his cheeks and stroked his hair. he tasted your strawberry lips again. they were so soft and delicious against his own.

“looking hot y/n! i missed you!” you turned around to see nobara, maki, and megumi walking over. yuuji’s mood deflated now. he hugged you to his chest until you eventually freed yourself to say hi. he laid back on the chair with a towel obviously laid on his lap.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✰ ELEVATOR

getting toji out of the house was a struggle. he didn’t want to get dressed and go to your friend’s party. the entire time you were doing your makeup and getting dressed, he was right behind you pawing at your hips.

you were grateful you made it into the building. your friend rented out a penthouse for her birthday. you stared at the buttons on the wall to the elevator.

“didn’t even know they made buildings this damn tall,” your boyfriend grumbled as he tugged on his collar. you looked at the mirror next to you — bending over to reapply your lipgloss. when toji turned to see what you were doing his eyes immediately fell to your ass sticking out for him.

his hand flew to grab a handful. the impact jutted to you forward a bit and you smeared your lipgloss. angrily, you stood back up about to reprimand him when he shoved you against the mirror. your lip gloss tube clattered to the ground.

his hands swooped your wrists together above your head. one hand locked them together while the other took advantage of the full access to your body. he nipped at your neck, exposed collarbone, and took his time in between your breasts.

“look so good, gotta mark ya up, make sure no man looks at you.”

“toji! control yourself!” you whined. he played with your thighs. his tongue licked a wide stripe back up your neck.

“mad i fucked up your lips?” he taunted. your leg wrapped around his waist, shifting your dress higher. the mirror revealed your lacy black panties that you were saving for him for after the party. you nodded with your lip stuck between your teeth. “poor baby.” he pecked your lips and wiped away the wine colored smudge. his husky voiced whispered, “i’m gonna ruin your whole look.”

the elevator dinged once before both doors began sliding open. toji loosened his grip for a second giving you the chance to push him off. you swiped your lip gloss from the ground and frantically reapplied it while toji fixed your dress. as soon as the doors on either side of you were exposed to the crowd of people.

you hurried to greet your friend with a nervous smile. your hands still smoothed out any wrinkles he left. toji followed behind you, blocking out the bit of your ass left hanging out just for him to see.

KENTO NANAMI ✰ OFFICE

kento was so proud of you for getting a promotion. now you got a new office that needed to be moved into. he offered his assistance to move your boxes into the new place. it wasn’t hard but he just wanted to spend some more time with you.

“you look so gorgeous, princess. i’m very proud of you,” he praised you. he picked you up and spun you around. you giggled once he put you down on your desk. he stroked the side of your cheek. you leaned into his touch.

“thank you, baby.” now kento considered himself a higher class man. he would never act on his perverted thoughts but when he looked down, the button on your blouse was open. multiple actually. enough for the plum colored lace of your bra to peek out.

he checked the time. it was about to be your lunch break. your body relaxed in his arms while he kissed up your neck. he kissed your ear and jawline.

“mhm. what’s gotten into you kento?” you sighed. your hand rested in his hair as he worked around your face. your eyes shut to intensify the feeling of his warm lips on your body. his thumbs stroked the dimples of your back.

“you smell good. do you have time?” he asked already knowing your answer. you followed his steps and checked your clock. he pulled away to look into your deep eyes. you gave him a nod and he reflected your mischievous glint in your eyes and smile.

he helped you to your back and rocked against you. he shoved his suit jacket off, disregarding where it landed. your buttons flew open, displaying your bra. he kissed them before his hands could meet them. your legs wrapped around his waist as your pencil skirt rose. he rubbed your thighs and snapped the strap of your garters against them.

“kento… ‘ts good, feels good,” you purred. he breathed in the alluring scent of your perfume. he’d have to buy you more. it had him rutting against you desperately. he grunted into your skin.

he locked hands with you against your desk. he wrapped the side of your panties around one knuckle to pull it down. he just needed to hear more of you. he had to hear you beg for more of him.

a rhythmic tapping sound echoed in the room. it only hit twice before kento was off of you and pulling your panties up and skirt down. you worked quickly to button up your shirt again.

“just a moment,” you called with a shaky voice. he smoothed out your hair and fixed any details you might’ve missed. “come in!”

the new intern walked in with some papers for you. his eyes flashed around the room nervously. they landed on kento, his slightly wrinkled shirt and gray pants. then they landed on the matching gray suit jacket in the corner.

— © cythena 2024. do not share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 31

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Steve plies you with kisses to the point you can’t breathe. You can’t get away from him. Your top hangs beneath your chest, exposing you to him and the cooling air. He purrs and nuzzles your hair as he pulls you against him once more. 

“It’s getting late,” he purrs, “we should go inside. How about a movie night, sweetie? You and me?” 

You stare at his neck, too ashamed to look higher than that. His hands squeeze your hips and he wiggles his, reminding you of his excitement and your unbidden need. You hate that you feel this way, that you burn each time he touches you. 

“Okay,” you murmur, hoping only for a little bit of space. 

“Mm, alright,” he slips his hands up your sides and grabs the straps of your bathing suit, he raises them up to your shoulders and ties a knot behind your neck. He traces the edges and fixes the wet fabric across your tits, giving a squeeze before he wades backward, “mm, that looks so good on you... how about you go get changed? I left a surprise on your bed.” 

You nod and follow him to the ladder. He lets you go first, tickling the back of your thigh as you climb out. He stays back to close the pool and your heartbeat slowly calms, though you know it’s far from over. 

You’re sluggish as you get to the back door. It’s like you’re stuck in a fog. You know exactly what is happening, what he wants, but knowing you can’t stop any of it has you apathetic. You can only let it happen. 

You go upstairs and pause at the top. You peek down at Steve’s door. It’s closed. Your mom’s in there, she must be. Hidden away. Locked up as you deceive her. 

You continue into the guest room. Your room now, as he calls it. You go to the foot of the bed and stare at the night gown spread across the duvet. It’s a pale blush colour, the top is cotton but the skirt is sheer with a shimmery liner underneath. There’s a frill around the hem and a bow along the chest. 

You strip off the swimsuit and put it to dry on the window ledge. You retreat and cover yourself with the nightie. It’s too small. You’re about to pop out of it as the thin straps are stretched to their limit, you feel your bum peeking out the bottom. 

You try not to let the horror sink too deep. No use in crying. Nothing you can do. You leave the room and descend. The sliding door shuts and you hear Steve in the kitchen. 

You go out to see him with a towel around his waist. Even through the extra layer, his erection prods. He’s mopping up the wet spots you left on the floor. You hang your head, “sorry, I didn’t...” 

“No worries, sweetie,” he looks up beneath his blonde lashes, “oh, baby, you look...mm, you get some popcorn going and choose a movie. I’ll finish this up and get changed.” 

“Right,” you agree and go to the counter, stopping cluelessly before the cupboard. 

“In the pantry,” he points to the narrow door on the other side of the fridge, “bowls are up there.” 

You turn to see him point. You give another nod and obey. It’s easy to do the little things. What, in the end, will hardly matter. 

You enter the pantry and search out a box of popcorn, taking out a bag, and return to the kitchen. He’s gone. You’re not comforted by his absence. You put the bag in the microwave and grab a big bowl from the cupboard. You wait, watching the numbers count down, your pulse picking up with each digit. 

You pour the hot kernels into the bowl and toss the bag. The smell is not so delicious as your stomach churns. You go to the living room and set down your heaping snack on the low table. You take the remote and sit on the section. 

You click on the first title that pops up on the screen. Some redundant romantic comedy you never heard of. You set down the remote and teeter on the edge of the couch. You lower your head and fold your hands. You can’t prepare yourself for what comes next. 

Steve appears before the intro credits end. He comes around as you sit back and he lowers himself next to you. He wears only a pair of boxers. You gulp at your quick glance of his naked torso and legs. 

He’s not looking at the screen and you can feel it. He leans back, slipping his arm over your shoulders. You try to curl into yourself. 

“That nightie, sweetie,” he pets your leg just beneath the hem, “you like it?” 

You nod, “mhmm. It’s... soft.” 

“How about tomorrow I take you to buy some more? We can get you all sorts of stuff? Cute clothes, maybe some toys...” 

“Toys?” you blink. 

“To play with...” his fingertips trail up your leg, “to experiment...” 

He leans in as the television glares in your vision. You stare at the blurring hues as he presses his lips to your temple. You whimper as his hand creeps over the skirt of the nightie and along your stomach. He cups your chest, kneading and fondling, purring as he grazes your cheek with his mouth. 

“Kiss me, sweetie,” he commands. 

You turn your head and meet his lips. He pulls you into him, urging you up onto him as he lays back on the long couch. You turn onto your stomach to keep your mouth on his, your hands on his broad chest. He growls into you as his hand slips up to the back of your head, his other squeezing your chest greedily. 

You moan as you feel a pluck. He drags his hand along your chest and shoulder, following the length of your arm. He guides your hand from beneath you and along his muscled stomach. You squeak as you touch the top of his boxers. He tilts you to once side as your lips part and you try to resist his strength. 

“It’s okay, baby, I just want you to feel me,” he pushes your hand under the fabric and his throbbing tip pokes you. You whimper as he presses your hand around it and groans, “that’s for you, baby. That’s how sexy you are.” 

Your eyes widen as you look him in the face, his blue irises smokey and slitted. You poke your tongue out to wet your lips, shunting out breaths as your chest swells. He moves your hand lower, angling it to wrap around him. He’s thick... or feels like it. He keeps his hand around yours as he guides you down to his base and back up. 

“How does that feel?” 

You can’t speak. You just gape at him. He smirks. 

“Give me another kiss,” he says. 

You do what he says. What else can you do? You tremble as he pumps your hand over him, up, down. You feel the veins beneath the taut skit and a trickle of wetness as you reach the tip. He groans again and pulls away from your mouth once more. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he takes your hand from his boxers and twines his fingers through yours. He kisses your knuckles and rolls his hips, “you are so good.” 

You hide your face as his hand slips from your head and he hooks his arm around you. He sits up and swiftly flips you, spreading himself over you. He smothers you with a kiss. You murmur around his tongue as it invades your mouth. He rocks his pelvis into you, your legs splayed around him. 

He lifts himself away, nibbling longingly on your lip before pulling back completely. He pets your shoulder and rubs his fingertip over the strap of the night, urging it down. 

“I wanna try something, sweetie, stay just like this,” he says. 

He pushes himself up to his knees. He pulls down the other strap and frees your chest. You quiver and stare at the ceiling. He moves over you, straddling your stomach as he tugs down the elastic of his boxers. You squeak again and dig your nails into the cushion. 

Your eyes sting with tears. He strokes himself as his boxers crumple beneath his dick. You can’t look. Don’t look. He shifts further up your torso and hovers over your chest. You seal your lips fearfully. 

He gropes your chest and bounces it. He lowers himself, angling so his dick is between your tits. He pushes them together and tilts back, then forward, his tip hitting your chin as you yelp. He hushes you and does it again, again, again. Each time quicker than the last. More desperate. 

He thrusts and the friction grows hot. He groans and growls, rutting as he shakes the cushions with his frantic motion. You turn your head as he fucks your tits. You hear a noise, a click, then a creak. There’s a soft drone then Steve’s name. It’s your mom! 

“Steve,” she calls again from up the stairs, “where...” her voice trails off and you hear a thump on the wall, “honey, please...” 

Steve moves his hand over your chest, pressing his hand to the front of your tits to keep them together as he uses the other to cover your mouth. His face strains as he fucks harder and harder. He huffs and suppresses a snarl as he hangs his head back. There’s a slicky heat over your face as you close your eyes against the sudden explosion. 

He cums in thick ribbons over your chin and lips, up to your nose and cheeks, even your forehead. He quakes as you hear your mom struggling to get down the stairs. The couch lurches as he puffs and pushes himself off of you. You stay there, paralysed, hiding beneath your eyelids. 

“Steve,” your mom whines. 

“Honey, what’s going on?” He calls back, his voice raspy and dry. 

“I don’t feel right,” her words slog heavily, as if she can barely form them. 

“Let me get you back to bed,” he coos, “what’re you doing up?” 

“I dunno...” she slurs. She sounds senseless and her footsteps are uneven and staggered. 

“Come on,” Steve coaxes, “it’s fine. I got you.” 

[girlnadian]

Summary. A part of Wato had been expecting Ken to just pop up. She thought that as soon as she deleted the server, they'd be there, right by her side as if nothing happened. They aren't, though. Even with the End Barrens gone, Wato doesn't see Ken again.

Notes. spoilers for watos 100 days video. a fucking ghost possessed me on my 36 hour trip and i banged all of this out while on planes or waiting for planes. i miss kenwato so bad. banner from here

3.8k words // read on ao3

For as long as Wato has known them, Ken has been someone who just disappears. She's used to it—being suddenly unable to reach them for days at a time, only to come back to their shared world one day and find Ken there, with petals in their hair and wearing Wato's colors like they never left. Wato knows that, so she shouldn't have been surprised when they didn't stick around in one place for an entire hundred days, and she shouldn't feel so sick to her stomach when she doesn't see them again immediately after.

That cottage is the closest thing either of them has to a home world, even if it sits abandoned more often than not. Ken and Wato are both busy, constantly, flitting from project to project and slinking back into the world when things get too bad anywhere else. It's the first place Wato wants to go after the End Barrens—the world is green and alive and beautiful, but it's still just her.

<Wato1876> Ken?

No response. Wato gives it ten minutes and then tries again.

<Wato1876> Did you make it out?

No response. Wato's tail thumps nervously against the mattress of her bed. She never saw Ken leave the server, but even if they were online when she wiped it, it should have just kicked them off. They should be here. Ignoring her outright isn't like them.

(There had been something of an argument, and Wato had grappled with that for months on her own. She thinks of Ken and imagines their laugh and It's poetic, isn't it? but she knows they didn't mean it. Ken has never been cruel on purpose. They couldn't have known. She never saw a leave message, but she never saw anything else from them either. She just wants to–)

<Wato1876> Im not mad

<Wato1876> Ken. Please

Wato gives it half an hour, and then she crawls under her blanket. When she falls asleep for the first time in a hundred days, she does it still alone and she doesn't dream.

Wifies hasn't seen them, either. He asks Parrot for her—nothing. Wato reaches out to Avatar, but no one has heard from Ken in months. Weren't they with you? The dread that's been building in the back of Wato's throat starts to become an acidic sort of panic. They should be here. They have to be somewhere, but even with all four of them trying to reach out, no one gets a response.

<Wato1876> Are you okay?

<Wato1876> I just want to know that youre okay

She just wants to see them. She wants to hear their voice (It's poetic, isn't it?)—she did nothing but miss them and miss them day in and day out and they should be here. The End Barrens are gone. Wato reminds herself over and over, pacing the wooden floors of Ken's bedroom: the End Barrens are gone. She should have checked who was online, but she had been so desperate to rid herself of the whole experience—there's no way something could have gone wrong, could it? She's deleted servers with people online before. No matter how many times she replays the process in her mind, she can't fathom what would have been different, but she had been so dazed–

(Ken's room is always so messy. Wato carefully steps over diagrams and blueprints that have fallen to the floor, and stops the restless swishing of her tail so she doesn't accidentally blow any papers under the bed, but she can't bring herself to pace anywhere else.

She crawls on top of Ken's split-colored sheets to sleep, instead of under them, because she doesn't want to disturb anything.)

Four days after leaving the End Barrens and with no word from Ken, Wifies visits. That confusing knot of emotions gets pulled so tight that Wato nearly throws up.

"Hey," Wifies smiles apologetically. "Sorry to drop by unannounced."

When Wifies comes in, he brushes past her in a way that knocks their shoulders together, and Wato fails to stifle the full body shudder at the contact. If Wifies notices, he doesn't say anything. He scans the house, ears swiveling before he smoothes out the motion. Wato's ears flatten against her head.

"Just me here," she confirms. Wifies gives her a look she can't read—that seems to happen a lot with him. She loves him dearly, but sometimes she feels like she never lands right with him. (Ken is better with him.) She turns to let Wifies deeper into the house, and her feet carry her without thinking about where she's going. Wifies follows behind her until she sees the lemon-and-lime decorations of the room.

"Did something happen?" Wifies asks. It's quiet and soft—What happened to Ken?

Wato winces, and then forces a shrug.

"We got… separated, early in the challenge. They still haven't turned up," Wato knows that her voice shakes. She hopes Wifies doesn't call it out. "I'm… I'm sure they will."

The server's only been gone four days, she tells herself. As long as she doesn't think about all the days without Ken before that, it isn't that long. Wifies frowns, like he knows something is wrong but isn't sure what to make of it. Wato isn't doing a good job at reassuring him, she realizes. Four days isn't long for Ken to be gone.

(She's known Ken for so long. She tries to remember their laugh but it's always overlayed with the screech of an Enderman pinning her in place. It's poetic, isn't it?)

The way Wifies is looking at her makes her want to shy away, but she doesn't. His eyes are a duller purple than she imagined, and nothing screams at her, but she still has to force herself to look at him directly. He's solid around the edges. He shifts his weight and the floorboards creak under him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Wato asks.

She only does it to get them out of this room and away from the conversation, but when she hands Wifies his cup fifteen minutes later it remains a firm weight in his hands. Wato releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. As worried about Ken as she had been, she sort of… forgot: she hadn't seen anyone else yet, either.

They chat and catch up; Wifies doesn't say Ken's name and so Wato doesn't, either. Wifies waves idly as he leaves, and Wato walks up to Ken's room and lays on top of the sheets and tucks her tail against her body. She doesn't dream, and Wifies comes back the next day. They busy themselves with idle chatter and discussion about escape room ideas, and Wifies waves idly as he leaves, and Wato walks up to Ken's room and lays on top of the sheets and tucks her tail against her body. She doesn't dream, and she stops messaging Ken every day, and she doesn't hear from or see them.

Ten days after leaving the End Barrens, the door to their cottage creaks open. Wato jolts up like she's been shocked, ears pricked towards the entrance so hard it aches. There's a beat of silence, and the footsteps that follow are paw-pad soft. Someone who's naturally quiet, not someone who's trying to be.

Wato wants to call out, but the name gets caught in her throat even though she'd recognize the cadence of those steps anywhere. She doesn't need to—the door to Ken's room swings open, and mismatched yellow-and-green eyes stare back at her in the low light.

Ken's eyes are wide and startled, and it occurs to Wato that she should be embarrassed about being caught curled up in a ball on their bed. Ken's mouth opens and then closes, and then they turn and disappear down the hall.

"W-wait," Wato makes a mess of the sheets in her haste to scramble up. "Wait! Ken!"

A door slams shut. It's not the front door, though—Wato gets out into the hall and realizes the door to her bedroom is now locked.

Ken is gone in the morning.

<_Kenadian_> im busy

<_Kenadian_> you dont have to wait for me

Wato waits anyway. Any work she has to do, she can do from the cottage—she isn't anywhere near building stages. She lets Wifies and Avatar know that Ken is back and declines Wifies' offer to visit further.

Now that she's seen them (it was them, she's pretty sure—they moved the door and she heard their footsteps), the fact they're avoiding her is startlingly more obvious. There's a fragment of Wato's chest that wants to be angry about that, but every time she replays that brief glimpse in her mind all her frustration turns back into clawing, lonely desperation. She didn't get a good enough look at them, but she thinks… When was the last time she saw Ken wide-eyed like that? It wasn't just surprise; they looked scared.

She tries to be mad, but she thinks about the End Barrens and what it did to her, and then she thinks about Ken. There hadn't been food, she remembers, and then she thinks about Ken. Wato had at least been able to death reset, but Ken hadn't died or returned to spawn once. What were they doing all that time, without a way to eat or regain health?

She doesn't bother texting them to ask, because she knows they won't answer. Ken comes back three days later, and this time Wato makes sure she's in her own room. There's a small tuft of unnatural yellow fur caught in her bed frame—Wato picks up the reminder, soft and physical between the pads of her fingers, and nearly sobs.

Ken always comes back at night, but Wato is never asleep when they do. Sometimes she stays up near the front door just to see them, and on the third time she does, Ken mutters a greeting (It's poetic, isn't it?) before vanishing up into their room again. Every time, Wato trembles with the barely-restrained urge to grab by the shoulders just to prove she can—she doesn't know what she'd do after that, though.

It's weird and tentative. Wato wouldn't even really call it peace. Ken is constantly skirting around the edges of her vision, and Wato doesn't turn her head for fear that if she looks at them directly the illusion will shatter. (She catches them in the morning light, once, on their way out—she notices how thin their wrists look. Ken has always been small, but have they always looked like that? Does Wato look any better?) Instead, her eyes are always just behind them, so she can see the way they interact with the world and remind herself that she isn't imagining them. She doesn't sleep in their room anymore, but she doesn't need to—those same yellow tufts of fur end up all over the cottage again. Ken takes cups out in the morning and leaves them out. They're tangible enough things that Wato doesn't feel like panicking every time Ken is out of her sight, and it's enough, for a little bit.

"Were you looking through my blueprints?"

She catches them in their makeshift kitchen, which is just where the furnaces are. Ken's tail puffs, flicks to the side, and then smooths out again. A few months ago, Wato would have laughed at them for being surprised by her voice. It's the first time she's addressed them directly in… a while now.

Between tufts of fur and moved cups, Wato notices the papers detailing her next project being shuffled like someone was flipping through them. She isn't upset, it was just…

"It looks good," says Ken. "I was just curious."

It was just unexpected. Sharing blueprints is something she wouldn't have thought twice about, before. Ken is always curious. Wato is the one who wants to wait in one place.

"Just good?" Wato asks. She sounds, unwittingly, like she's talking to a nervous stray, but only because Ken is treating her like one in kind. Ken has never called her puzzles just good. This is their art as much as it is hers—they always have something to say.

Ken hesitates. Their tail sways restlessly behind them. Say something, Wato wants to beg. I know you have thoughts. Say something. Don't leave me here.

"It looks good," Ken repeats. Wato supposes good is better than poetic.

Eventually, Wato can't procrastinate with just blueprints and small mockups anymore. She needs to start doing full prototypes, which comes with two more, slightly uncomfortable truths: she needs to leave her server with Ken to start building, and she needs playtesters. Normally, she wouldn't even have to ask Ken—often, Ken would just show up to whatever server she's building in unannounced and then refuse to explain how they got the IP. Now, though, when everything Ken offers her is through murmurs… She's not sure.

"You should just ask them," Wifies says. "If you aren't sure."

The void is easier to stomach than the End Barrens. Wato forgoes a dirt block in her design and replaces it with netherrack. She'll have to give the player a pickaxe to mine it, but if it's a wooden one that shouldn't allow them to get any blocks they aren't supposed to.

"I don't know," Wato says. "Maybe they just need to rest some more."

Not that Wato knows what Ken has been doing, outside the time she sees them at the cottage. It's been weeks, nearly a month, and Wato hasn't explained the End Barrens to anyone—Ken hasn't asked and Wato hasn't asked them either, and Wato doesn't even know how she would explain it to someone who wasn't there and didn't see what it was like.

"Are you just talking about the escape room?" Wifies voice drops, What happened to Ken? and Wato fumbles.

"What else would I be talking about?"

"I get the feeling," Wifies talks slow, like he's choosing his words very, very carefully, "that you two aren't talking much at all."

Wato erects a wall of bedrock. A voice in her head reminds her to be cognizant of the wall thickness, because there's access to a boat in a later room. People think they can get away with two, it says, but you actually need three layers to stop someone from phasing through.

"It's complicated," Wato settles on. It's ultimately not more complicated than the fact she created escape rooms for Wifies' evil creator who was also Wifies, but it sure feels that way—and isn't that so telling. Maybe Wifies thinks the same thing, because he raises a brow.

"I'm only making a suggestion, but it kind of sucks—watching you two like this."

Wato winces. Wifies is right, but…

Ken is back now, but it's so, so fragile. Wato imagines the conversation playing out, and she imagines saying the wrong thing, and Ken leaving and being gone for good this time. If Wato couldn't even convince them to stay with her before, how would she do it now? Is she even ready to share something like this with Ken again?

She thinks about saying I'll ask soon, but she doesn't want to make a promise she can't keep, especially not to Wifies. "I'll think about it," is what she settles on instead. As if she hasn't been thinking about it for months and months already.

Ken must realize she's started building. Wato can see that ever-present and rampant curiosity in the back of their eyes, but they don't say anything. Wato finds herself more and more unsure of what to make of things the longer it goes on. It hurts more to realize that they want to ask but won't—why? Why put them both through this? Why hover if they won't commit?

Wato climbs up to Ken's room and sits on their bed. Their blankets are rumpled and one of their pillows has fallen on the floor. She places herself on the edge of the mattress and waits.

She's banking on the idea that Ken even comes back tonight, but it seems like luck is on her side. The door to Ken's room swings open, and mismatched yellow and green eyes stare back at her in the light, wide and startled.

"Wato?"

"I started building a new escape room," she says, which is—okay, maybe not the most elegant start to the conversation, but the words tumble out as soon as she sees them. Ken furrows their brow and one of their ears flicks.

I need playtesters next. You're the best one I know. Wato imagines herself saying it. She can hear the words in her head in her voice, but they don't make it into the air. Ken stares at her for a long moment, before both their ears fall.

"That's… good, I–"

"Don't you want to be there?"

That isn't what she meant to say at all. Ken freezes, but Wato keeps talking—"Why don't you want to be there?"

"I do!" Ken's voice raises a pitch. They sound helpless. "I always want to–"

"No you don't. You don't always want to be there."

Ken hasn't moved, but Wato stands and starts to pace, shoes scuffing against the hardwood floor. She can feel their eyes tracking her, back and forth, until she asks again, "Why weren't you there? Where did you go, Ken?"

I missed you. I thought about you constantly. I miss you right now, where did you go? Were you okay? Are you okay? Wato doesn't ask and Ken doesn't say—Ken will never fold and Wato will always be left to pick up their discarded cards and try to make a hand. They just watch her. Wato inhales sharply, and Ken in kind makes a wet, choked-off noise.

"I didn't…" Ken tries—she can tell they're trying but she's so tired of it. They keep twitching like they're moments away from fleeing, and if they left again Wato would have no way to stop them again. She can't keep chasing the lie of permanence forever.

"Just go if you're going to go," she bites out. The words feel like a punch to her—she doesn't look at Ken to see how they take it. She turns towards the wall with no clue how long they stand there struggling, and she lets Ken disappear down the hall and then out the front door.

_Kenadian_ has left the game.

Wato doesn't make it to Ken's bed; she sinks to her knees on the floor and lets sobs wrack her body until exhaustion overtakes her.

She gets Parrot and Seawatt to playtest for her, instead. She thinks about asking Wifies, but she doesn't feel like enduring his concerned looks when he notices Ken isn't around. It goes smoothly, if dully. There are no sequence-breaking ways to glitch out of the map, and it's impossible to eliminate cheesing but it doesn't seem obnoxiously easy.

All she needs to do is decorate the winner's platform. No one is coming to playtest, so she doesn't bother checking the user list until paw-pad soft steps come from somewhere behind her. Part of her figured she'd never see Ken again—most of her still imagines this will be the last time.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me again," Ken says. Wato pauses. "After I left, and I laughed at you while doing it—I didn't think you'd…"

Ken swallows. "Leaving spawn was a bad idea. You were right."

"What happened, Ken?"

Ken laughs, but it's rueful and strained. Wato finally turns enough to see them run a hand through their hair.

"I just kept walking," Ken says, "I couldn't eat, because there was no food, so I just walked and walked. No structures, just dirt and Endermen and sometimes water, but never any fish—and I was just on half a heart, forever, and I couldn't die because dying would send me back."

"You could have come back," Wato argues. "Ken, I wanted you there—I wanted you to come back so bad it killed me."

Ken's expression twists up. Their chest heaves, and Wato's vision blurs in turn.

"I was too stubborn, I guess. I just– I just kept walking, and I never accomplished anything, and I was so tired but I had to keep walking. I couldn't come back empty-handed after how I treated you, and if I got to the Nether I could travel through there to get back to you faster, but," Ken's tail coils around their leg miserably. "I didn't make it. I was– was basically starving to death the whole time, and I couldn't regen health, so even falling a couple of blocks felt paralyzing. I don't know."

"Ken–"

"I want to be here, Wato, I promise. I didn't think it would—it was supposed to be a stupid challenge. I saw all your death messages, and when you got the Nether, and when you– you– but I didn't– I'm sorry. Wato, I'm sorry."

At the first sign of tears, Wato lurches forward. Ken hits the floor and Wato goes with them, burying her nose in Ken's soft hair and squeezing her eyes shut. Ken's claws dig into her back, but they're real and alive and here.

"I just wanted to know you were okay," Wato croaks. "It was just… the same thing every day, waiting for something to happen, and it was so lonely. And then the server was gone, but you still weren't there–"

"I'm sorry," Ken whines. Wato tucks their head under her chin. "I didn't want to upset you."

"It was so, so lonely," she echoes, again, a little hollow. "Did you hallucinate, too?"

Ken sniffs, "What?"

Despite everything, Wato laughs. "I started to– I guess I just couldn't handle being on my own, so I started hallucinating. I thought Wifies was there—don't tell him. I haven't told him."

Ken's hair is wet with her tears, but they only press in closer. Wato idly starts to run a hand along Ken's ears—she only realizes now how unkempt their fur is, and when she reaches a hand up to her own ear, it feels the same way.

"I won't tell," Ken promises. "I'm sorry, Wato."

"It's okay," and she means it. She can't remember the last time she felt this okay. Ken remains a warm, shuddering weight in her arms—and it's okay. It's okay. Wato squeezes them tight one more time before pulling back to look at their face.

"Let's just go home, alright?"

She'll finish the winner's platform later, but she'll probably ask Ken to do a run-through of the room before she finalizes it. For now, they reconnect to their server; Ken takes Wato's hand and pulls her into their house. Wato crawls into Ken's bed and Ken settles in next to her, curls their tail around her leg and presses their face into her shoulder as their chest rumbles with slightly uneven purrs, and it's okay. They're both okay.

[thesamoanqueen]

All Dat

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: Smut; errors like always

A/N: I’ll be out for a couple days since is MITB week, but I always do my duty.

She had worked most of the day, watching over and over hours of material, old edits, reading tons of interviews with all the same questions that would probably have been discarded as soon as they arrived. Working away from the creative team without being able to have immediate comparisons was complicated, but she had found a way to make it work anyway, to be efficient and always beyond expectations. She was willing to make more than a few sacrifices to keep herself independent and still be as present as possible in their relationship, especially if she was repaid with a good glass of wine and a dip in the pool with Roman. Well, frankly Roman was all she needed, but that was a whole other story and he kept spoiling her like it was his life's mission so… she could take advantage of the whole package.

-Mmh… this one doesn't get out of here – he greeted her, swimming up to her, to put himself between her legs and wrap his arms around her hips like a vice.

She liked to always look neat, look in her best shape and yes, even show off a bit. It made her feel good about herself, was a boost to her energy, a pamper to her mood and Roman hadn't skimped on compliments since they'd met. Not a single day.

She knew he said it to give her attention and that he appreciated it, but she also knew that new bikini wasn't going to show up for any beach trips or vacations really. Her big boy was possessive and jealous if someone crossed the line and the stuff she was wearing was a bit too an clear invitation to look more and more. She had bought it online, from an exclusive collection in which it looked different from what she was wearing and it bothered her a little, because making images and shots work was her job. The top was fine, it showed what it was supposed to, covered what it needed, but the bottom… either her hips had stretched out more than they should without asking permission or it was the bikini’s fault. It barely covered her under there and Roman or not, she liked to show off with class, she wasn't that kind of woman.

- I don't even know why I bough it – she admitted with a snort, feeling him kiss her stomach, stroking her back and sides with full hands, while she fixed it for the umpteenth time, the water of the pool rising between them and then ending up beyond the edge due to their movements.

- Cause you're gorgeous and you take care of me - Roman smiled amused, slipping his fingers between the aquamarine laces wrapped around her curves.

- You? Since when my bikini is yo business?

- Since everything under these tiny strips is ma business and you’re always good with me – he announced incredibly seriously, leaving another trail of kisses on her belly, to then go down a little more, dedicating himself to her thighs.

Unable to hold back her smile, Y/N started playing with his hair, quiting the attempt to put the bikini in its place to caress him, while he showed her all the attentions as always. She felt his beard brush along her skin, his full lips petting her inner thigh before biting down lightly, hands holding her firmly in place. From the top of the poolside, she watched him move slowly and inexorably in the water, the muscles of his shoulders shiny, the reflection of the lights along the edge of the pool, highlighting his dark tattoo.

- You've been home for an hour… less? – she reflected amused, already knowing how it would end up and she cocked her head when Roman undid the first knot on her hips, still kissing her.

His big hands pulled her towards him, securing her legs on his shoulders, licking a few drops off her caramel skin.

- Im thirsty - he said hoarsely, Y/N holding him by the strands on his head, feeling him go down to the thin strip of cloth that barely covered her.

- Ain't takin you a drink… - yet another mark printed between her legs, a kiss on her abused skin, fingers pulling another lace.

The already ridiculous fabric of her bikini fell off either side of her, bonding to her bare body only at her neck, but Roman left it in place just long enough to bring her eyes back to him.

- Mama taugh me how to do things, I can get myself a drink - he assured with a more deadly expression and Y/N really wanted to laugh, but he stole her breath by placing a sloppy kiss on her mouth and then slipped fully back in the water.

Y/N followed him with her eyes, delighted as always, affectionately scratching the back of his neck as he claimed his place between her legs. She brushed a strand from his face, feeling the heat building in her chest even before it got between her legs, refraining from jumping on him and kissing him for the rest of the evening, night, even her whole life, when Roman planted his eyes on her as he began his work. He pounced on her unhurriedly, spreading her folds with two fingers to give a first lick along her opening. Y/N moaned in excitement at his touch, snuggling her leg a little on his shoulder, seeing him smile cocky as he gave her yet another kiss on the soft thigh before diving into her core. His tongue was a fat pro, and each time he traced her moist contours to sink deep inside her opening, Y/N pulled him a little closer, one hand planted firmly on his head.

- Hn… like this – she encouraged him, fingers tightening in his dark hair, loosening the bun.

- It's been a long…-his mouth sucking first one fold-… day…-then the other-… I missed you – inexorable.

- … I missed you t-ah!

His beard itched against her sensitive skin, pool’s water slowly mixing with her moods each time he spread his mouth wide to eat her, dripping from his face. Y/N felt his breath against her button and belly twisting as he slowly fucked her with his tongue, the liquid heat building inexorably in his eyes and in her core. She rotated her hips instinctively trying to raise it, holding him in place with her hand, because patience under those circumstances really wasn't for her, but Roman locked her down with a gaze. Y/N saw his brow furrow and soon his white teeth slowly pinch at her knot of nerves, causing her to fall in a spasm to rest her back on the stone floor of the pool. She closed her eyes, feeling his big body come forward, pull her forward and soon found herself gasping at the slowly darkening sky. She felt his long fingers, joining the amazing work of his mouth, stroking her, rubbing against her smooth skin, spreading her folds, one hand feeling her stomach, holding her still more successfully than she had ever had with him.

For an unspecified time, Roman kept slowly to prepare her, warming her without haste and Y/N panting towards nowhere, feet now crossed behind his neck to have him close. Under her hands, her breasts naked and wet, rising chasing the increasingly hot breath, fingers that every now and then ended up on the grass beyond the poolside strip. Y/N had the feel that Roman was recharging her, licking away all the excess thoughts of her mind, stripping her of them as easily as he had stripped her of that obscene tiny bikini.

- Turn around and rise that pretty ass – she heard him order almost from afar, but when Y/N reopened her eyes and raised her head, he was already on his knees on the bench inside the pool.

His legs were half immersed, his swimsuit low to leave his hardness ready and shiny for the water. The pool’s lights gave him a dangerous look and Y/N couldn't take her eyes off him until he helped her back up, pinching her side to encourage her to do as he said. He kissed her nose, out of pure affection and she let out a languid smile, sliding her stomach onto the pool’s floor, feeling the rough ground against her nipples, moaning because of it and Ro’s hands. She felt his thighs rub against her ass, the weight of his hard cock past the curve of her buttocks, fingers dragging over her messy opening.

- Don't hold back - she asked in a cry, rocking her body against him once, before he slipped inside her effortlessly, filling her to the bottom.

- Lemme do my things - he said hoarsely, giving a long thrust that left her gasping and immediately another.

Y/N found herself resting her cheek on the ground, staring without really seeing the grass in the garden, the lights twinkling along the walkways, near the deck chairs, flickering as if she was drunk. Roman fucked her slowly and good, his movements were overpowering and for each thrust, Y/N felt his dick slamming against the bottom of her walls, in that sweet weak point that he always seemed to find in any circumstance and position. Her heat kept to build slowly, from the bottom of her belly, from his fingers holding up her hips, from the drops of water that dripped down his chest between their bodies, from the water splashing everywhere. His slow movement made her rub against the floor, her nipples harden and her moans breaking as they reached her throat. Her walls reached out to take him in until she felt completely exposed, holding on to his shaft as he mercilessly opened her, holding him as if they were afraid of him running away from her. Thrust after thrust, powerful, massive, the slimy sound of water and bodies colliding.

- Such a good girl… making Daddy hap-py – Roman growled low and Y/N nodded instinctively, quickly, feeling his hard cock throbbing inside her and the pace increasing.

- Y-yes-please yes

Roman was capable of accelerating almost unnaturally and she never resisted when it happened, begging hopelessly, slamming her hips into him for a better grip, for more even as her folds began to throb nonstop. She felt his strong arm pull her over him, pass under her stomach, to force her back against his broad chest and then come back to rest on her hip, his other hand holding her throat, kissing her shoulder.

-R-Roo ahn – the control he had over her body was almost toxic, but Y/N liked it.

She liked listening to his quicken breathing, his growls of pleasure growing dangerous, lower, synchronized with the throb of her spongy walls contracting, squeezing his full length. She adored his mouth biting her neck, her ear, fingers holding her throat without ever squeezing. She rubbed excitedly on him, fragile against his huge body, gasping as he guided them both to their climax, closer and lower, switching between the raw and slow pace to drive her crazy.

- I-im clo-se

- I know… ssh, fuck

Another kiss, more sloppy, but equally full of love, before bending her again, forcing her to put hands on the floor. Y/N let her head hang down, hair covering her face, as she gathered up what little clarity remained and then lifted it, gasping as she felt Roman give a couple more thrusts, long and confused, his hardness banging between the her walls pleading for a release. She moved back, trying to stay in place as possible and with the umpteenth hit on her sweet spot, she collapsed arching again with a strangled cry and almost immediately feeling Roman empty inside her from the spasms of her core. Gasping and rocking to the full curve of her orgasm, Y/N let him do with her as he pleased, pounding her again and again, until his cock had nothing more to give and he let go too, pulling her onto the bench inside the pool with him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face under his head, still feeling him inside her, hands still gripping her hips. They stayed like this for a couple on minutes, silence cradling them.

- Maybe I could keep that bikini – she murmured at some point, hearing his low laugh, hands caressing her lazily.

- Keep what you want babygirl… all dat stuff won’t stay in place anyway

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[writers-potion]

hi!! im working on a story that takes place at a 2012 public high school - the issue with that is that i was not in high school in 2012 lmao. do you have any tips on how to keep it feeling realistic?

Well, neither was I!! But here are some tips:

Define Your General Setting

Sure, high school has a different feel compared to an average town/city setting. However, it is still a part of the bigger community, and will be impacted by external factors.

What part of the world are your writing about? What's the general economy like? What's the most common occupation of the kid's parents? What's the prevailing fashion/art/music style?

Your teens will be impacted by the popular culture and trends of the time, so start by outlining the general setting!

Fashion

I think this is where schools have changed the most. There are going to be some overlaps between early 2010s and late 2000s, so if you think in the direction of Y2K fashion, it should fit.

On a general note, I think 2010s fashion was vibrant, with lots of colors and flashy items...

Side fringes and backcombed/straightened hair were still very popular

most girls had huge messy sock buns on top of their heads

boys had the Justin Bieber cut.

Jack Wills and Hollister were pretty popular, and a lot of girls had a Paul's Boutique jacket and a Jane Norman bag for their PE kit (or one of the Hollister bags with a topless guy on).

Converse were universally cool, and there were lots of imitation brands.

Open flannel shirt over a t-shirt was a pretty popular outfit.

Skinny jeans and band t-shirts

bright chunky rubber band bracelets.

Vans were cool among the alternative kids.

Getting different colours on your braces was cool.

Most of the boys had at least one of those t-shirts with the buttons and the mismatched cuffs.

School-uniform-wise, short ties with big fat knots were cool, and hard kids would pluck a stripe or two out of their tie.

Tucking in shirts was initially not cool, then it became cool to tuck at the front but not the back.

Lots of boys wore black trainers, and lots of girls wore those ballet pumps.

Girls doing their lips with their foundation, with a thick ring of black eyeliner and spidery clumpy mascara - and having a visible orange line where your foundation met your neck was common.

Multiple ear piercings were popular with the alternative crowd

Belly button piercings were big for girls

Just search up some pictures on Google, you should get plenty of "Early 2010s teen fashion starter pack"

Social Media

Smartphones were already popular, and with the introduction of Snapchat(2011) and Instagram(2010), the social media hype was just starting to boom

Facebook and Twitter were popular - basically everyone was on it

TikTok(2016) and Discord(2015) didn't exist yet

Pictochat

Phones were allowed in the classroom, but phones/laptops weren't an important part of school work like it is now.

Digital Devices

Phones-wise, most people had pretty basic dumbphones (although they were just called mobiles back then), and not everyone carried them all the time

Blackberry (BBM), Nokia, LG Cholate, iPhone if you're rich enough

Most kids were on PAYG phones, so you'd run out of credit sometimes (i.e. no more calls or texts) and have to go to a physical shop to top up. Nobody really had data, and there was always a moment of panic if you accidentally opened the web browser on your phone because it was so expensive. Wifi became a thing around 2012.

Nintendo DSes: Mario Kart, Animal Crossing, Nintendogs

iPods or another MP3 Player

Slag

Slang-wise, Urban Dictionary is a good resource.

Fleek, peng and YOLO were popular with some crowds. Leetspeak was a thing online, especially in nerdy communities. Emoji were starting to take off 

rawr" (or "rawr means I love you in dinosaur") and "xD" as a laughing face 

Music

One Direction, Jedward, Katy Perry, Carly Rae Jepson, Justin Bieber, JLS, Little Mix, Beyonce, Paramour, My Chemical Romance, Bring Me The Horizon, Black Veil Brides, Ke$ha, Eminem, The Killers, OMI, Gotye, Bruno Mars, Macklemore, Skrillex, deadmau5, blink-182, Green Day, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, Lana Del Rey.

Fandom Stuff

Twilight was huge, then Hunger Games.

Harry Potter was everywhere all the time, people would go to midnight releases for the books and movies.

High School Musical was popular, then that crowd migrated to Glee and Mean Girls.

The Olympics were in London in 2012

Other Stuff

Reese's peanut butter cups, Marshmallow Fluff, Nerds, etc. 

Veganism wasn't well-known, but still there were a few

Lots of casual homophbia, kids jsut genuinely not knowing rather than truly hateful towards it

Here are some movie suggestions, that shows school like in early-mid 2010s quite well:

Easy A

The Duff

LOL

For YA Novels - Be Timeless

Before you start doing any of the things above, remember this if you're writing a YA novel: The key of this genre is to feel somewhat timless, taking readers back to their high school years no matter when and where they've gone through it.

High school is the phase where many people feel awkward, unsure of themselves, feeling special in their own head but knowing that they're not really.

And it's not like the problems just disappear when we hit adult life. A major reason why YA novels are so popular is that they address themes that are repeatedly felt by the general human being, often in a such a direct, straightforward way that provides vicarious satisfaction.

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Love Me Knot

helloooo everyone!! this is the fic for this ask from @sleepy--anon that i mentioned was going to be a full fic!! i didn’t intend for it to be a full fic when i first got it but i really just had too much in my mind to make it cohesive enough for an ask soooo fic it is!!

also make sure to check out @mushiewrites’s answer for this ask here bc i definitely stole a decent amount of details from his answer as well lmaooo

but either way, hope everyone likes this unnecessary fic <3

lee!dream, ler!sapnap, ler!george, 2.9k words

enjoy!

--

can you come to my room for a sec

i need help hanging something up

Dream watched the text message pop up on his phone screen as he sat at his computer, switching diligently between his editing software and his email. He picked up the phone, typing out a quick ‘sure’ before placing it back down on the desk and heading upstairs.

When he got there, Sapnap’s door was already half open, so he pushed it the rest of the way and looked inside. Sapnap was kneeling on the bed, looking at him before he even stepped into the room, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the strange look he was given.

“Hi?” He said as he took a few more steps forward.

“Hey, you,” Sapnap replied, smiling sweetly at him. He returned the smile, calmed by it, assuming the previous expression was just a result of him waiting for Dream to arrive. He walked forward more, now in front of the bed, tapping his thigh with his fingers.

“So… what did you need help with?”

“Oh! Right. Well, uh…” Sapnap started, sitting up on his knees and crossing his ankles under him, and only then did Dream notice him reach behind him, movements slow, like there was something behind his back that he didn’t want him to see. Dream narrowed his eyes, his suspicions returning, trying to tilt his head to see behind Sapnap, but he kept blocking the view. “So… I was, y’know, I was looking online and I saw– I saw this cool picture of, like… of how someone had hung up… a poster…“ Sapnap spoke slowly, subtly glancing behind Dream, only making him more confused. He furrowed his eyebrows again, a puzzled look on his face, starting to turn around to follow his eyes.

“What are you loo–”

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, there was a loud scream and something was crashing into Dream’s back, making him yell out in shock as he was tackled face first onto the bed.

“AHH—!“ He screamed, attempting to get a grasp on the situation and figure out what was happening, but he heard the signature sound of laughter that he recognized immediately– not just Sapnap’s, but George’s as well. “WH– GEORGE?!” He yelled, surprised that he was even there.

He attempted to turn himself over, but it became immediately apparent to him that he was not able to do so– actually, he wasn’t able to move at all.

He let out a gasp at the realization, squirming as much as he could, still caught completely off guard and more confused than he had ever been. Sapnap and George were both on top of him, Sapnap sitting on the back of his thighs and George on his lower back. His knees were held together between Sapnap’s thighs as he wrapped an arm around his ankles to hold them up, and his hands were pinned behind his back by George.

“WHAT IS– WHAT–” He twisted his shoulders, trying uselessly to buck his hips against the bed or knock either of them off, but nothing seemed to work. He turned his head to the side, and suddenly his eyes locked on the very thing he had been trying to see earlier.

Several coils of rope sitting on the bed next to him.

He didn’t know what they were planning, but whatever it was, he was screwed.

“No–“ He muttered, his breathing growing more and more panicked as he thrashed with much more urgency. “No, no, no, please– please, wha-whatever you’re gonna do—!” He cut himself off with a frustrated groan when he couldn’t throw either of them off. Usually, that wouldn’t be a problem for him at all, being much bigger and stronger than both of them individually or combined, but being so caught off guard and pinned in such a compromising position made it nearly impossible for him to gain any leverage at all, and it was nowhere near enough to push himself back up.

He watched them each grab one of the ropes, and his heart dropped as he felt them begin to tie them around his wrists and ankles.

“NO! NO, nonono, come ON– WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS?!” Dream tried to get their attention, but it only made them both laugh at his struggle. He groaned again, frustration growing as he strained against their hands and the ropes, curling his toes and clenching his fists as he tried everything in his power to get free, but it only made them push even further. Sapnap pulled on the ropes, tightening them around his ankles and making him gasp in surprise, before tying it off and rubbing his fingers over the knot to admire his work. “What– what are you guys even doing, I– what is the point of this!”

“There’s no point. We just felt like messing with you,” George explained, tightening and tying off his section of rope as a finishing thought, and Dream groaned again. They both pushed themselves off him, leaving him free to squirm and twist his limbs in the rope, a sad and unsuccessful attempt to free himself. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, smiling fondly at their antics despite the fact that they were essentially holding him hostage.

“Cool, congratulations, you’re both idiots, are you entertained? Can I go back to doing my job now?” Dream asked, trying to be cold, though his tone was too soft to warrant it.

“Hmmm… nah, we’re not done with you yet,” George said with a smirk, earning another defeated groan from the man below him. Before Dream could ask what he meant, he felt a strong hand grip the rope around his ankles and pull them up again, holding them in place through his squirming. He watched George take the last piece of rope and hand it over to Sapnap, and it took him less than a second to realize what was about to happen, but Sapnap was already looping it around his binds to tie them together, pressing one knee into Dream’s back to keep him in place as he worked..

“Oh, fuck off!” He complained, squirming harder to try and stop the new tie from happening, but Sapnap was quick and Dream was already totally helpless in his current position. Sapnap tied off the rope, pulling it tight to make sure it was secure, earning another gasp from Dream when he yanked on it, which made them both giggle again. Sapnap moved his knee, letting Dream squirm as much as he wanted– well, as much as he could, really, which wasn’t much more than a few inches in any direction.“This is so STUPID!” He grumbled again, frustration coursing through his veins at how trapped he was, using it as fuel to ignore the tingles in his chest and the butterflies in his tummy as the compromising position.

“Not for us, I think this is awesome, look what I can do now!” Sapnap said, and suddenly there were fingers scratching at the soles of his socked feet, and he squealed in surprise before falling into high pitched laughter.

“AH! Okahahay! Ohokahay!” He said through laughter, slightly muffled as he buried his face partially in the pillow underneath him, already flushed and warm from both embarrassment and his struggling. “N– ahaha, stohohop!” He pleaded, curling his toes, twisting and turning his ankles as much as he could to try and kick off the offending fingers. He yanked at his wrists as well, flexing his fingers as the tickling stopped, and he felt Sapnap’s fingers intertwine with his as he gently grasped his hand. He let out residual giggles as he turned his head to the side, squeezing Sapnap’s hand in appreciation. “Gohod– okay, congratulations, yohou’ve– you got what you wanted, are you done?”

“Nah,” Sapnap replied, squeezing Dream’s hand once more before letting go. “That isn’t even what we wanted to do, it was just too good to pass up.”

“Oh my god,” Dream groaned, rolling his eyes again, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder and one on his thigh. “What– OH, my god!” Dream yelped as he felt himself being moved, and the hands on his body turned him onto his side. He groaned at the new position, squirming and thrashing in hopes that it would give him more leverage, but it actually seemed to do the opposite. He sighed, breathing heavily as he recovered from another round of struggling, and he had no choice but to accept the new position– on his side, his back to the other two, both of them looming over him with smug smiles on their faces. “I hate both of you. So much,” Dream said in an annoyed tone, shaking the hair out of his face.

“That’s okay, we know. Ready to hate us more?” George said, and before Dream got a chance to respond, there were nails scratching at the center of his tummy over his t-shirt. He gasped, eyes wide, as he looked down immediately at the offending hand– George’s, he noticed, but Sapnap’s weren’t much farther away, and he didn’t expect them to stay that way– and the feeling began to register in his mind.

“Oh, shit– wahahait– fuck–” He spoke quietly, very quickly realizing how horrible his current position actually was, every nerve ending under his skin lighting up like fireworks as the scratching motion continued. “Stop, stohohop, stopstopstop–“ His panic grew stronger, his tummy jumping under the touch, and he was unable to squirm or push away from the sensation at all. Dream shifted his hips, trying to curl his legs forward or tuck in his shoulders, anything to shift the forced arch of his back, but nothing seemed to work.

With every push of his legs, there was a pull on his arms, which only pushed his tummy out more forcefully, making him squeal and push in the opposite direction. His laughter was consistent now, growing from light and airy giggles to breathy laughs that made him gasp, which very quickly turned completely breathless as George’s other hand joined the mix.

“Oh gohohod, oh god, plehehehease!” He begged, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to compose himself, to show that it wasn’t getting to him at all and they could totally just give up and let him go, but he had no such luck. “Thihihihis ihis soho mehehean!”

“We know,” Sapnap said fondly, trailing his hands up to join George’s, gently tugging Dream’s shirt up to expose his bare skin, giggling as they both watched his tummy flutter at the cool air that blew over it.

“Nahahaha!” Dream giggled, scrunching his nose up at the new sensation, instinctively sucking his stomach in as much as he could, though it didn’t do much to help him.

George’s nails began to scratch under his shirt now, pushing the hem up even further as they stayed around the same spot and explored around the middle of his tummy and over the front of his ribs, which just so happened to be conveniently pushed forward for him to play with. Dream couldn’t hold in the squeak he let out, biting his lip in embarrassment before grumbling and whining all over again.

“C’mohohohon– nohoho, this suhuhucks– AH!” Dream helped again, this time because of George’s nails reaching the spot below his ribs on the side of his tummy closest to the bed. His squirming kicked up again, more frantic now, as he tried to twist his wrists and turn himself back onto his stomach to shield himself from the unbearable feeling. “Oh myhy gohohod– ahaha, plehehehease!” George laughed at his pleading, keeping up the motion as he pulled his other hand back, using it to grab onto Dream’s elbow and pull him back, pressing down on his upper arm to push his chest out and keep him firmly in place– which Dream did not appreciate whatsoever. “Nohohoho!”

“Aw, Dreamie,” Sapnap mocked, a fake pout on his face as he pulled Dream’s hip back to adjust him as well. He let his fingers trace over Dream’s side, trailing down to the side of his tummy, both hands scratching at the spot just next to his belly button and making him fall into squeals and cackles. “What’s wrong?”

“I cahahan’t dohoho anyhythihihing!” Dream whined, squirming desperately against the binds and bodies holding him in place, trying to kick or push or thrash away from the ticklish feeling that spread through his whole nervous system, but he was completely trapped. All he could do was shake and tremble under their cruel nails, scratching non-stop at his sensitive tummy, shaking his head as his curls fell over his face.

“We know,” George mirrored Sapnap’s earlier words, readjusting his grip on Dream’s arm and using his other hand to hold his shoulder.

Then, Sapnap’s hands moved downward to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and he began scratching and scribbling his nails over his whole lower stomach, squeezing at the spots near his hips every so often, giggling as Dream yelped and broke out into loud, helpless laughter.

“AH— NOHOHO! Nohohoho, nonono, plehehease, please, stohohop!” Dream thrashed as much as he could, his movements much more frantic this time, but still yielding the same results as always, nearly nothing. “PLEASE, I cahahahan’t–!” He begged, squeezing his eyes shut and causing them to tear up from how tight they were closed. His face was still bright red and burning hot, his breathing still heavy and his throat starting to get dry from it. “Sahapnahahap PLEHEASE, stohohop! I cahahan’t tahahake ihit!”

“Aww, you can’t take it, cutie?” Sapnap teased, and Dream nodded frantically at the question. “You don’t really have a choice,” He finished, making Dream groan and whine, laughing breathlessly when Sapnap’s hands moved to scratch up and down his tummy instead. He couldn’t stop the way his back arched even further that the feeling, a shiver running down his spine, and he let out a sound somewhere between a gasp, a growl, and a whine.

“Hmm– ah!” Dream curled his shoulders in more, hiding his face in the pillow again, catching his breath and letting out airy giggles at the different sensation. He had to admit, it felt kind of nice after the cruel tickles he had just been given, and he wouldn’t really mind if Sapnap continued like that for a while.

But, as he anticipated, Sapnap moved right back to scratching at his lower tummy, and he broke into loud and desperate laughter once again.

“FUCK– nahahaha!” He whined, throwing his head back and forth, his only outlet to get his energy out. “Cohome OHOHOHON, Sahahapnahap!” He complained, finally able to wrench his arm out of George’s grasp so he could twist his body to be flat again, able to fully bury his face in the blankets as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Sapnap chuckled as he let go of the bound man below him, unable to keep his fond giggles in as Dream let out his leftover ones, muffled into the blanket he was hidden in. “You good down there, giggles?”

“You guys are actually so stupid,” He muttered, shifting slightly so his voice wouldn’t be muffled. “What even made you think of this shit?”

“Uh… I dunno, actually…” Sapnap replied, resting his hand on Dream’s back and rubbing soothingly up and down his spine.

“Yeah, I think we were just bored and wanted to mess with you,” George explained, subtly reaching forward to fiddle with Dream’s fingers where his bound hands rested near his lap. He could see Dream smile at the action, wordlessly hooking his finger with George’s in acknowledgment before letting him play with them how he wanted.

“I hate you guys so much,” Dream repeated, tone betraying him once again, and the room was silent for a few moments as everyone began to relax.

Well, until Dream delivered a necessary reminder.

“Are you guys gonna like… untie me?”

“OH!” Both men jumped into action at once, all three of them laughing at the situation as they quickly removed the rope from Dream’s wrists and ankles. As soon as he was free, he turned onto his back and stretched his body out, groaning as he felt the tension in his shoulders, hips, and knees that had formed from the position disappear.

He let out a sigh and relaxed against the bed, looking up at the other two and reaching his arms out to them. Sapnap reacted immediately, vaulting himself over to Dream’s other side and curling up beside him, smiling when he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and let his thumb rub gently over his hoodie. George didn’t move as quickly, even when Dream gave him grabby hands and his signature puppy eyes, so Dream threw his arm around George and yanked him down instead, earning a squeak in response as George fell next to him. He chuckled, mumbling a small, “that’s better,” and he ruffled George’s hair before he felt him finally relax into his arms.

George carefully pulled up the fuzzy throw blanket on Sapnap’s bed, covering their legs and getting comfortable where he was yanked to lay, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from slipping shut in the calming atmosphere.

“So, when do I get to do that to you guys?”

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Twenty Eight

( Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller x F!Reader )

CUCKOLDING / APHRODISIACS / TEMPERATURE PLAY

Summary: Will suggests you both try a tasty aphrodisiac, things are guaranteed to get messy.

Day Twenty Eight of @absurdthirst's Kinktober

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, a lot of food talk, food play, licking, biting, teasing, brief oral - female receiving, dry humping, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2k

“So, what have you got planned for tonight?”

“Who says I’ve planned anything?”

Your eyes narrowed, Will doesn’t plan specifically for that night but usually, he has something up his sleeve. He rests his elbows on the countertop, matching your stance to wind you up a little. You cock your head to the side and bat your eyelids.

“How can I deny that look?” He chuckles, “I thought we’d try some natural aphrodisiacs, could get messy though.”

Your stomach does a somersault.

“It’s not the powder is it?”

That night with Frankie and Santiago was enough to put you off the stuff even if it was all good fun. You felt the after effects for days.

“I couldn’t possibly do that to you, sweetheart. My suggestion is a lot more tasty.”

The corner of your lips curl as he steps away from the breakfast bar and heads to the fridge. Opening the door, you hear the crumpling of a plastic container before other food stuff was placed on top.

When he turns round, you know exactly what he’s thinking. He puts the pallet of strawberries and dark chocolate on the counter in front of you.

“Do you know how to melt chocolate without burning it?”

“I looked it up online,” he shrugs, “but I did get squirt chocolate just in case.”

Oh yes, things were going to get messy.

You offer to help him melt the chocolate, the instructions he found were intended for a microwave but you saw it best to use the stovetop. It’s easier to burn in the microwave, at least this way you can keep an eye on it.

He dumped a huge bag of chocolate chips into a pyrex bowl and placed it on top of a pan of boiling water. He gently folded it, his large hand wrapped around a spoon, until it became a smooth, glossy liquid.

“Ok, grab the strawberries,” he said.

You’d washed them and presented them in a bowl to make them seem romantic and followed him to the bedroom.

“I don’t think that blanket will survive chocolate,” your brows knot.

“It’ll be fine, Bunny.”

He’d happily buy a new one anyway, to match his sheets better. He spreads it out so it covers the bed and rests the hot bowl, taking the tea towel back to the kitchen. You switch on the lamps and put the strawberries down.

When he comes into the room, he switches off the main light.

“Better take those clothes off,” he smiles knowingly.

“Even the underwear?”

“Even the underwear.”

Naked, the pair of you climb onto the bed. He stretches onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and you sit on your legs near him. The bowls were balanced precariously in the middle. Your eyes explore how the light hits his body, light shadows casting under his abdominals leading towards the v shape forming between his hips, his flaccid cock.

“You’re already distracted.”

Your attention comes back to his face, his expression soft. 

The temperature in your cheeks rises.

“Do you want any of these delicious looking strawberries or—“

“No, I do,” your mouth was watering but not from the fruit.

He always thought it was cute when you got flustered, the embarrassment spreading to your flushed chest.

Taking the biggest strawberry, he dipped it in the chocolate and twisted to stop it from dripping. He brought it to your lips and you opened your mouth before sinking your teeth into the juicy fruit. The sweetness of the chocolate took away the sharpness, blending it into a satisfying taste. It took over your tastebuds and you hummed as you swallowed.

“Thought you’d like it,” he said, dipping it again, bringing it back to your mouth for you to finish.

“I better not be eating all of these myself.”

“I’ll have a couple.”

You return the favour except Will has the capability to eliminate the strawberry in one bite.

“It’s no fun if you do that,” you sigh.

“I much prefer watching your mouth around it.”

You fumble and drop an entire berry in the mixture, “I’m not scooping that out.”

The two of you continue until he refuses and feeds you a few more. His once smooth motions become sloppy, purposefully smothering the berry in chocolate and smearing it over your lips.

“Only one more,” you say, gesturing a hand, “I’ve already had too much.”

He nods, dipping the last strawberry, submerging it so it’s fully covered. Bringing it to your lips, he pulls it away and you pout, your attempt to chase it failing.

“Here.”

He holds his hand steady and when you’re millimetres away, he draws it along your cheek.

“Will!”

The strawberry is shoved into your mouth before you have the chance to argue. You talk as you chew.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe I did.”

He waits for you to finish before stretching, his face coming to yours. His tongue licks the chocolate from your cheek then he kisses your lips. You blink when he moves away from you, your lips parted in surprise.

He dips two fingers into the bowl, “It would be a shame to waste all this chocolate.”

You open your mouth to him as he slips in the fingers, wrapping your lips around the thick digits. Your tongue rolls and twists as you suckle softly, making sure you take all the sweet coating. His fingers pop from your mouth.

“You trust me?”

You smile coyly, “Of course.”

Straightening up, he reaches for his bedside table and opens a draw. He pulls out a silky ribbon, wide enough to cover your eyes and shuffles behind you to tie it on. It wraps around your head three times, your fingers hovering incase it needs to be held in place yet it doesn’t. You feel the knot tighten, bunching up your hair as he double binds it.

“Can you see anything?”

You shake your head, all that was in your vision was the colour pink.

“Promise.”

You nod as he takes your hand and kisses your palm. He moves in front of you, fingertips skimming your legs and stomach before he speaks again.

“Lay back.”

You lean, hands planted on the mattress as you unfurl your legs from beneath you. Carefully, you rest your upper body to the bed and spread yourself out, toes accidentally poking him as you did so. You breath deeply, trying to focus on the bed, on him.

“I’m ready,” you call out.

He coats his two fingers and thumb before spreading the chocolate over your lips with his thumb, you happily accept it. Once you’ve licked most of it off, he draws down your neck, feeling your vein pump underneath the skin. He stops as he reaches your collar bone, leaning back to admire his work. Licking his lips, he settles his hands either side of your head, dropping his face gradually.

His hot breath dances across your neck and your breath stutters.

He presses his tongue flat and licks over your collarbone, lapping up the sweetness all the way up to your jaw. You moan, tipping your head so he could get underneath. He kisses your jawline before lifting himself up again, arm lengthening to grab the edge of the pyrex bowl.

Mixing the liquid with the spoon, he gathers as much as he can.

He lifts his legs, placing them on the outside of yours and look down on your relaxed frame. He tips the spoon above you, studying as the chocolate begins to fall on your skin.

The initial droplet makes you flinch.

Shaking the piece of cutlery, he decorates your body in line of chocolate from your chest to your belly button. He admits it goes everywhere, some of it spraying on his thighs, others blobbing on your mound, along your bikini line.

Once he’s done with that, he discards the spoon and scoop with his fingers. He smears some around the curve of your breasts and over your nipples, a couple of brushes on your thighs. You feel two fingers cover your lips in chocolate and hear the slurp as he cleans his own fingers. He doesn’t tell you this but you assume you’re not allowed to lick it yourself.

He starts at the bottom.

His hands come down to your legs as he draws up with his nose. He flattens his tongue as he runs up your thigh, feeling you shiver, your breath hitching. When he reaches the crease between your hip and leg, he nips with his teeth before quickly soothing with his tongue. Then he repeats the action on the other side.

He notched the tip of his nose against your clit as he licked your folds. You shiver, your arousal pooling on his tongue and you feel him smile as your legs close around his frame.

As he pulls back, you wriggle your hips, desperate to get him back.

“Please, just a little more.”

He shakes his head, tutting before moving onto the droplets either side of the long strip. You moan as you welcome his lips back to your body, even if it’s not at your wet pussy. He swiftly took away the chocolate with the point of his tongue, grazing softly with teeth.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what your view would look like if you weren’t blindfolded. The flecks of platinum blonde in his crown, the muscles working on his broad shoulders as he brings himself close, arms holding him steady. And as he continues to lick and bite, your every honeyed noise would make his cock twitch and grow.

Your belly was getting warm.

Once you’re clean around the edges, he goes to your stomach, laying his tongue flat above your belly button. He drags it up bit by bit, not rushing, savouring the taste as you arch your back for him to take. Flicking his tongue up at your chest, he goes back to the bottom to start over, making sure he gets as much off as he can.

Next, he moves onto your breast, tucking under the curve to get the chocolate there before focusing on the nipples. Using the tip of the tongue, he circles the edge, nudging the mini metal balls that make your nipples go puffy. He takes one in his mouth and sucks gently, hearing the sigh escape from your lips as your head tips backwards.

He nips you just for good measure, your one hand running through his hair, tugging lightly.

Moving to the other, he does the same thing but when he bares his teeth, he nibbles before biting harder.

“Fuck,” you hiss, pulling his hair to match his strength.

He soothes with his tongue and mouth, popping your nipple from his mouth. Removing your hand from his head, he lay it down to the mattress as he straightened up to admire the view.

Your chest was beginning to rise and fall more frequently, skin shiny from his saliva and the corner of his lips curl when he notices the chocolate still on your lips. He expected you to lick it off ages ago, that sweet tooth of yours making it hard to resist, he was impressed.

Taking your ankles, he hooks them over his waist before returning to you, pushing his crotch into your mound. His cock is heavy, hot as he ruts into your folds, his length brushing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine, ankles locking to bring him closer, seeking the friction to satisfy for building desire.

He returned his hands either side of you, stopping his hips as he hovered his face in front of yours. He can hear how shaky your breath is, see your throat bob as you swallow in anticipation, his breath dancing over your cheeks.

Sinking down, he slotted his lips to yours, the chocolate smearing over your cupid’s bow and catching in his whiskers. Your tongues both fight for dominance, licking the sweet treat from each other’s faces. His tongue forced it’s way into your mouth. He starting to roll his hips and caught your thick groan.

As he began to pull back, he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, sucking hard for that last sugary hit. 

Your lips were prickling.

He moved away from you when you chased his lips, hips halted and you heard him chuckle wickedly as he crept further away.

You scream through gritted teeth, throwing your head back as your fingernails buried into the covers.

“Will, please, just fuck me already.”

Will laughed, chocolates and strawberries really were aphrodisiacs.

[pablitogavii]

after a bad match reader cheers her boyfriend gavi up. fluff

I just had the same idea :) Great minds think alike!

Another draw...it's been three games that Barça hadn't won and you knew how difficult your boyfriend deals with loses especially since the whole El Clásico debacle at Camp Nou.

pablito<3: just arrived home amor <3

You smiled at the message happy that he always remembers how much you worry so he always tells you when he arrives from a travel.

"Mom, I'll sleep at Pablo's tonight!" you quickly grabbed your school bag before kissing your parents and driving to Pablo's apartment.

princesa<3: open your door Pablito <3

Pablo was laying on the sofa watching some TV while still feeling disappointed and angry with yet another poor performance when he got your text.

He smiled quickly rushing to open his front door quickly pulling you into a tight hug happy that you were finally with him again...he really needed your company now.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming amor? I would have ordered us some food, maybe lit some candles?" Pablo was smiling and you blushed at his romantic side shaking your head before kissing him once more before he led you inside.

"I wanted to surprise you, Pablito. And I missed you so much!" you say while taking off your shoes and he couldn't wait any longer to grab your body and carry you to the couch.

He laid you down before getting on top of you and laying his head on your chest nuzzling his head into your neck as his way of asking for cuddles...you thought he was so adorable.

"I need you so much right now amor.." he said sounding quite sad and you knew that he was surely still going through the loss at Getafe.

"Shh I'm here Pablito..I'm not going anywhere" you reassured him and he nodded kissing your neck sloppily while you ran your hands through his hair gently.

"We just can't get back up from the Clásico...even fans are saying how horrible we are and I'm trying so hard amor..every game and every training I give my all and I get are yellow cards and provocations" Pablo was opening up which wasn't usual but you were glad he trusted you to be vulnerable when he needed it.

"Mi amor you shouldn't feel guilty when you are giving your all and true fans know that...as for the provocations, they are targeting you because they see you as a threat so just ignore them..like you told me to do with those mean girls online" you giggle hoping to lighten the mood and it worked since he pulled you closer looking up and kissing your lips.

"They are jealous of my princesa bonita..because they know how madly in love I am with her..and how special she is to me" he smiled and you did as well kissing him once more before leaving light kisses on his face while his eyes were shut.

"Let me give you a massage Pablito, I promise it will help?" you say and he opens his eyes smiling more before getting off you and taking off his t-shirt leaving you in awe.

He was working really hard on his physique in the past few months and it was certainly starting to show..his abs were flexed and his arms veiny and delicious...you were taking your time to appreciate them.

"Should we go to bedroom or do you want to check me out some more amor??" Pablo teased and you blushed getting up about to walk past him but he grabbed your waist pulling you back and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Te amo mucho mi amor.." he said into your neck and you smiled turning around and cupping his face before kissing his lips again lovingly.

"Te amo Pablito..come on" you grab his hand guiding him to the bedroom where he laid on his stomach while you grabbed some lotion and sat besides him before starting to massage tense knots in his back.

After only a few minutes, Pablo was moaning in pleasure as his muscles started to finally relax and his thoughts cleared focusing on the magic your fingers brought to him right now.

"Feeling better amor?" you came closer to his ear whispering gently not wanting to disturb him peace and he just nodded with his eyes still closed never wanting you to stop...it's the best he felt in months.

You noticed half an hour later that Pablo was softly snoring and you smiled kissing down his back gently before pulling blanket over his exhausted body and turning the light off in the room.

It was still early for you to sleep so you grabbed your book and went to the living room making some tea. You only finished one chapter when a familiar curly haired boy peaked through bedroom door with a big pout on his handsome face.

"You left me amor.." he said like an adorable puppy and you put the book away smiling wide at his adorable childish behavior.

"Come cuddle me please??" he asked blushing a little and you smiled nodding your head and running to give him a hug as he pulled you into the bed and cuddled closer to you once more.

"You keep me calm amor..I couldn't do it without you" he said sleepily and you kissed his head feeling so happy to have found someone like Pablo to love and be loved by.

"Talk to me..I just want to hear you voice" he said and you smiled running your hand through his hair once more as he relaxed against you.

"What should I talk about?" you whisper

"Us...in ten years..where do you see us amor?" he said and you felt your heart racing thinking about your future life with Pablo loving how neither of you had doubts that you were meant to be together forever.

"Well...we will defiantly still be in Barcelona and I will be with a best midfielder in the world.." you started feeling his smile against your neck.

"Married...you will be married to the best midfielder in the world amor" he said and you blushed nodding your head in agreement thinking of yourself as future Mrs. Gavira...it will always sound like a dream.

"And we will have a house....with a big garden..where I can plant roses" you say and he listens carefully taking in every detail so he can bring it to life over the years..he wanted to give you everything you wish for.

"And a big pool so I can jump with PabloJr. into it and annoy you every day" Pablo added and you took a moment to realize what he had just said blushing more looking down at his sparkling eyes.

"Pablo Jr.?" you repeat and he nods proudly with a big smile.

"We can have more than one....preferably three if you ask me" he said smirking and you have him a shocked face.

"Easy now...they will all have to be inside of me first" you remind him and he raised his hands in surrender before you both giggled.

"It's all about what you want, my vida...I'm here to give you everything you set your mind to princesa" he said and you smiled nodding your head and placing your lips on his once more into a sweet kiss.

"In that case, I do have one request for you.." you say seriously and he raised his head a little waiting to hear this request of yours.

"I want you to always love me the way you do right now...to make me feel peace and to never change yourself because I love you just the way you are right now..my angry bird" you tease and he smiled kissing your lips passionately before nodding his head and giving you a pinky promise (ofc!)

Hope you like it :) It's short but sweet <3

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Marble Head Unearthed in Rome

Construction workers have unearthed a white marble head in the historic center of Rome, the city’s mayor has revealed on social media.

Posting a picture of the mud-covered relic on Twitter on Thursday, Mayor Roberto Gualtieri wrote: “#Roma continues to return precious evidence of its past: a splendid intact marble head was found during the works in Piazza Augusto Imperatore attended by the @Sovrintendenza.”

Gualtieri went on to add that archaeologists and restorers are now “busy cleaning and studying the find.”

The Sovrintendenza Capitolina (Capitoline Superintendence) manages, maintains and enhances the capital’s historic and archaeological heritage.

The impressive piece, which is thought to be part of a statue of a female divinity, was discovered in a foundation uncovered during the works for the “redevelopment of the Mausoleum of Augustus and Piazza Augusto Imperatore,” according to a statement published online by Rome city council. It said that the head was found on the eastern side of the area currently being worked on.

It was thanks to the “attentive work of the archaeologists of the Superintendence” that the relic was uncovered, the statement said, adding that it is hoped that the discovery will help experts “deepen the knowledge” of the city’s ancient history.

“The newly found head, of elegant craftsmanship, sculpted in Greek marble, probably belongs to a statue of a female divinity, perhaps Aphrodite, of natural dimensions. [It] shows a refined hairstyle of hair gathered at the back thanks to a ‘tenia,’ a ribbon knotted on the top of the head,” said Capitoline Superintendent Claudio Parisi Presicce.

He explained that the head was unearthed, intact, in the foundation of a late antique wall.

According to Parisi Presicce, the head had been “reused as building material.” The workers found it lying face down and protected by a clay bank on which the foundation of the wall rests.

Though it may seem surprising that an antiquity was found in this state, it would not be uncommon, the superintendent said.

“The reuse of works sculptures, even of significant value, was a very common practice in the late Middle Ages, which allowed, as in this case, the successful preservation of important works of art,” he added.

It appears to be from the Augustan era, according to Parisi Presicce. He said conservators and archaeologists now hope to restore it, while also aiming to identify the subject and determine how old it is.

By Gianluca Mezzofiore and Lianne Kolirin.

[bangtanhoneys]

BTS MOMENTS - Taehyung & Grace

Sick Day

The group could count on two hands how many times they all had come down with the same illness within days of each other - it usually started with Jungkook then it went through to Seokjin then it made its way through the rest. There was always a guarantee that by the time it got to the last member, the previous one would be better. This time it had hit Taehyung first and hard - he was suffering from a bad cold and full body aches, making it even more difficult to get him up in the morning. 

They were two weeks away from their comeback and every day had been filled with practices, practices, training, the gym, filming and more practice. It was inevitable that they would get ill around this time, when they were all tired and not sleeping well, not eating well didn’t help. 

It was early evening and they had taken a break from dance practice, Namjoon ordering dinner to be delivered like he had done the previous two nights and the rest of them spread out across the warm floor. Hoseok was running through some final moves with Seokjin, Yoongi was fiddling with his laptop to finish off some beats and Jimin with Jungkook were spread out across the floor. Grace leaned against the cool mirror and closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath before downing the rest of her water. 

Suddenly a dead weight landed in her lap and she jumped, opening her eyes to find a tired Taehyung sprawled across her thighs. Today hadn’t been a good start for him - completely blocked nose, blocked ears, sore throat that made him sound like a frog and he just wanted to go to bed.

“Noona,” he croaked he rolled onto his side and used Grace’s leggings to wipe his sweat from his forehead. “Tired. Want to go home.”

There was the other side to a sick Bangtan - they all became cuddly monsters when they got sick, Taehyung being the worst. 

“I know Tae,” she sighed as she run her fingers through his knotted hair. “We’ve only got two hours left and then we’ll get you home. You can have a hot shower and we’ll dose you up on more meds, get you feeling better.”

She caught Jin’s eye, clearly seeing the ‘how is he’ question in his gaze and she shook her head at him. She then watched as Jin spoke quietly to Namjoon and Hobi, hopefully organising this dance practice to finish sooner rather than later. They were all dead on their feet and an early night was going to be much needed. 

Grace watched as Taehyung rolled onto his back then pushed himself up, nudging her so he could lean back against her chest. “You big baby,” she chuckled as she adjusted him in her arms, resting her chin on the top of his head then began to rock him. Dinner wouldn’t arrive for another half an hour or more so she may as well let him get a little nap in now.

What she didn’t see was Hobi discreetly take his phone out and capture a photo, soon uploading it to Twitter with the caption: “Grace and her baby bear.” It was completely worth it even if she did give Hobi dagger eyes once she saw it online. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 7

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes. 

A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale. 

You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot. 

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see? 

You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers. 

You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night. 

You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck? 

“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.” 

You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess? 

You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat. 

“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.” 

You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked. 

“I’ll bring the glass back--” 

“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.” 

“I will, mom.” 

“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.” 

Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster. 

You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes. 

“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.” 

“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably. 

You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any. 

You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door. 

You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?” 

“Erm. Okay. Here.” 

You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile. 

“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.” 

“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you. 

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.” 

You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much? 

“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?” 

“No,” you answer dully. 

“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges. 

Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m teasing--” 

“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him. 

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.” 

You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door. 

“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.” 

🏠

It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious. 

You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing. 

You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension. 

Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway. 

“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.” 

You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful. 

“Sweetie?” 

“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.” 

You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.” 

Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight. 

“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you. 

“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.” 

You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you. 

[wiltf]

teeny bit of 🔞 but mostly early dating exploration / light humour / lil bit of love with seven and jen

not even the music blaring from jen’s phone manages to cover up his thoughts. try as he might, as their own voices roll over him, tinny and reminiscent of someone accidentally covering the microphone while trying to record, seven kind of wanted to just sink into the leather of the car seat until there was nothing left. little bit of burning shame and also that floaty feeling he was still getting used to. all culminating in his stomach twisting into knots.

“‘m sorry.”

“sev, i told you it was fine.” the leg jennifer had thrown over his was still bopping along to their song, and as he peeks under his arm, he can see the small twists that suggest she was following the choreography, too. “it happens.”

honestly, even he couldn’t tell what kind of noise left him, but jennifer was moving. leaning over and hand on his thigh to brace herself. hand hitting all parts of the car until she seems to find whatever it was she wanted from under the passenger seat. “drink some water, take a breather, and—”

“jen, you’re sounding like—like a doctor, or something. it’s weird.”

the bottle is a little too warm, pressed into the side of his face that she had access too. enough that it encourages him to finally pull his hands away from his head, and try to not completely pass out at the dishevelled jennifer in front of him. his shirt, far too loose of a neck, letting seven stare all the way down into the way the little pendant around her neck was stuck to the still sweaty skin between her breasts. messy and loose hair. she sits back on her heels, somehow not managing to completely fall off balance, and seven just has to curl away. not think about the rose on her underwear, embroidered and familiar.

“you’re too hot.”

pressing his face into the seat, jennifer’s “thank you?” is accompanied with a light laugh, and she’s digging at him. trying to get him to turn over. sitting on the backs of his legs eventually, even though the angle is all wrong and it’s pulling at his hips. which jennifer likely knew, as her fingers start to massage along his exposed skin, from where his pants were still sitting low and shirt was riding up.

“seven, you’re being stupid. who cares if you like… ‘came early’, or whatever. honestly your refractory period is pretty solid so like—”

seven doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he hits a level of incredulity that manages to overshadow whatever embarrassment was still lingering. “what the fuck have you been looking up online, jen? ‘refractory period’?!”

“i’ve been doing research, butthead.” insult accompanied by sharp pokes in his side. “it’s like, i dunno, the time between an orgasm? and well, you’re young—even if you act like an old man—so generally it’s a few minutes and then—”

seven groans, dragging out the “stopppp…” until her laughter dies down. one long pause, before he rolls over again to look at her. “why were you looking this up?” like yeah, of course he had ended up down some sort of wikipedia spiral at some a.m. time, but seven couldn’t deny his curiosity, enough that he finally relented, rearranging limbs and clothes to sit on the backseat now, opposite jennifer.

a jennifer who grinned in that particularly devilish way she did, when some awful and possibly illegal idea crossed her mind. some people may have called it smug, or smarm, but seven leans in to greet the way she loops her arms loosely around his neck, playing with his hair. “i was doing research… and not just porn, either,” she winks, and seven feels his cheeks colour, “i found some pretty cool, like, forums, journal articles—not just sealed section for us, babe! top shelf research shit.”

oh, he remembered those magazines. the sealed sections. the way jennifer had been huddled over them with anyone else morbidly curious on what might be on display for that particular month. and yeah, of course he had read them too, especially once they had hit puberty running. and even his mother suggested that it might be worth having a look, with those far too know-it-all smiles and eyebrows, which in hindsight. okay. maybe he should’ve thought about it instead of brushing it off then, thinking his mum was being ridiculous about it.

but now they were here, in the backseat of her car, not in completely unfamiliar territory, because seven had definitely had her hands down his pants before. but there were some particularly wild stories that came out of those magazines which seven knew he would never forget, and all the facts just faded away.

“you are weird as shit.”

and she laughs and kisses him and bumps his nose with hers. and they’re still figuring it out, really. teeth clicking and nails that cut a little too far, so seven isn’t that concerned about ‘research’, because hell, he’d even spent some time looking stuff up too. not whatever jen had, using specific terms and telling him to stay hydrated, now, you need it more than i do, because he wasn’t a freakin’ weirdo, and he calls her that all over again, as she giggles about some fact she looked up (something about the cardiovascular system affecting his dick and she recommends getting exercise in).

“wanna try again?”

seven makes a hum, back of his throat, but can’t help the way he feels his whole damn face scrunch up. okay, lawless, you got this, you can ask her this. “are you—are you, like…” hand wave, relatively south, “interested? or wet, or… i don’t know the word, stop looking at me like that!”

“are you asking me if i’m turned on?”

he just wanted to cover his face and roll over. again. “i guess?!”

the feeling only rises as there is a drawn out pause, where jennifer’s face goes through several stages of emotions. eventually, it seems to land on a wonderfully pleased if mollified smile; the kind that played around the corners of her mouth, as if she was trying to fight it. “do you want me to tell you what it’s called or—?”

“jennifer, i swear, can you just—”

“i’m kidding! yes, i am very turned on by you—always, duh.” butterfly kisses, over his cheeks, lips, temples, nose, that punctuate her next question: “did you wanna touch me again and see for yourself?”

“i don’t… know. fuck,” and with that, seven lets his head fall back, hitting the top of the seat. “i don’t know what i’m doing right now, and i don’t wanna fuck it up for you, y’know?”

“‘for me’?” is the echo, followed by a snort. “sev, sex involves both of us. that whole ‘two to tango’ shit, y’know? okay, yeah, sometimes more, and i guess by yourself can count technically as well—”

at his raised brows, she waves her hands in an almost apologetic way. “off topic, sorry, but… babe, we’re both in this, and i do want you to feel good as well, okay? one of the few times this isn’t just about me, i know.”

and she’s trying to get a rise out of him. play it off and rib him. it works, of course it does, when seven can’t help the smile. meets her insistent kisses with his own.

“look, i want to christen vlad,” and with the apparent chosen name of her car, jennifer lovingly pats the back of the driver’s seat headrest, “with you, but we don’t have to. we don’t have to have sex—i would rather, like, not fuck right now, and just wait for sunrise, than have you all wound up, okay?”

one day, she would stop jabbing him in the sides for an answer. “okay?” but it was not that day, not anytime soon. “okaaaaayyyyy?” and jennifer is practically crawling over him, getting in his personal bubble (not like she wasn’t already under his skin constantly), poking and prodding for a response that would satisfy her. the grin doesn’t reach her eyes, as there is that tension in her brows, the worry there, for him.

“i still can’t believe you chose that as a name.”

it’s easier to deflect. to hide the fact that seven caught her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers and yeah, he was okay. more than okay. embarrassed and swallowing his feels all the way down into the soles of his shoes, but okay. because jennifer was all relaxed and giddy and pulling his hair free of the headband, peppering whatever skin she could find with those lips of hers.

“my naming choices are spectacular, and you’re just jealous i got an impala first.”

with a shift, he’s back against the seat proper, jen in his lap. seven keeps his hands on her waist, pulling his shirt up, finding warm skin and freckles he’d memorised since the first day he’d seen them. open mouthed kisses along the top of her breasts, following awkward tan lines from a bikini top that wasn’t sitting straight and that one half moon scar just below her collarbone from where she’d fallen from the monkey-bars as a kid. truthfully, seven could’ve just buried his face right there, between her tits, and just stayed a while. breathing her in, feeling the way her body practically hummed under him.

yet in the only moment she pulls her hand away from him, jennifer accomplishes several things in no particular order. with all the practice dedicated from someone used to dressing and undressing in cramped spaces, she manages to not only remove her own underwear, but encourage seven to raise his ass enough to pull his jeans and boxers down. there was also the stretch to the middle console at the front of the car, which was accompanied a frustrated groan when whatever she had been fishing for not being there.

“hold on,” is the grumble, as she twists completely off his lap to move between the front seats now. passenger side glovebox, seven was sure, but well. he was suddenly and acutely aware of the music playing from her phone (track six, blue blooded beard, not the best but it’s why no more team votes were allowed for names), and her ass swaying to it. possibly annoyed swaying, were that a thing, but,

“jen,” and seven swallows thickly, now, slowly. clenched fist on his thigh, angling enough to brush a knuckle against his definitely hard dick. “your—you—mmm, this is a really good look for you, y’know?”

“really?” hair flicks back, and she looks over her shoulder. smug, of course, but that high flush on her cheek betrays her. in particular, when she holds up what she was looking for. “i mean, did you wanna do it this way or…?” and jennifer lets that question hang there, right there, definitely making sure there was not a nearly enough oxygen or blood reaching his brain.

“another time, definitely, get over here—fuck!”

seven manhandles her back onto his lap, and he’s grumbling, he knows. touching and mumbling and kissing, whatever he can find, as her wrist is loose now, slack and rolling a condom down over his dick. mindful of sensitivity, as she says, which definitely has him roll his eyes and seven would have said something about her being a know-it-all, thank you, if jennifer hadn’t decided in that moment to touch herself.

he’s sure he says something like she was too hot, but whether it came out as just a sound was something else. all wrapped up in the way he’s acutely aware that he isn’t moving, uncertain hands that don’t leave her hips, jen doing all the hard work. if seven could think, let alone talk, there was a smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue about this being a better workout for her than her many attempts at a gym membership. but it doesn’t make it out, his head hits the headrest, and jen. oh, god, jen. takes his hands in her own, holding them there, either side of his face.

forehead to forehead, contact only broken by open mouthed kisses and lips that drag and sweet nothings. seven had learned somewhere along the line — of fumbling their way through crossing a dozen lines about dating a band member — that jen talked a lot. breathless, absolutely, but the words that left her were always so painfully sweet. mostly mumblings to herself, he figured the first few times, because her eyes were screwed shut then, just as they were now, while she kept going. maybe he was never supposed to hear it, but seven couldn’t help himself, watching the way her face shifted with each movement of their hips, how her lips just continued to move with each praise.

and jennifer says, i love you i love you i love you, like it was a prayer. like seven was not fully at her beck and call, caged under her, intertwined fingers and every damn nerve ending on fire. almost weird to consider (and that was the best descriptor he had rattling around in his brain, really). few short months, dating and kissing and fucking and jen had said that all before. smiling and bright and it was always a phrase of hers that would echo in him, days on end.

but that was before, this was now, and seven feels the corner of his eyes prickle. a sniff, and fuck, he thought he was quiet, hadn’t gone still, shit, fuck. fuck! squeezes his eyes shut, but jen hits the brakes, hands releasing his, and,

“sev? seven? holy shit, babe, are you crying?”

seven wants to laugh and blow his nose and isn’t sure what to make of the situation right now, because he can only pull the collar of his shirt up, as if it might swallow him whole. holy fucking shit, seven lawless, you actual idiot. can only sit there, while jen gets off him, moves around — and of course there’s hardly any light coming in through the thin fabric of his shirt, so he can only make out a shape, because fuck!

“why are you crying? did i do something?” tentative hands, barely lingering for more than a beat, thigh, forearm, top of his head. “what’s going on, seven? talk to me.”

swallows the will to try to sass his way out of this, because seven knows jen wouldn’t take that shit lying down. when he’s at least eighty percent sure he wasn’t about to start leaking from the optical area once more, seven pulls his shirt down to find the very, very concerned face of lamb, jennifer lamb, his—

oh, god, it just hit him. he’d never referred to her as his girlfriend before. it was always just seven and jennifer, jennifer and seven. but this was—this was insane, right? to worry about this now? getting all limp-dicked over technicalities when she had just been telling him to get some cardio in, and yeah sure, seven was sure jen didn’t have a problem with a label like ‘girlfriend', right? right?!

“sev, babe, i can see you, like, talking all up in there. i’ll accept a noise to let me know you’re… okay? are you okay?” a vague hand wave to his head, because jen knew him better than he knew himself, and seven was all kinds of scared and sad, and honestly a bit horny, and a little more in love with her than it had occurred to him, as everything in him raced, full throttle.

tongue too heavy to form an actual sentence that made sense, but damn if he wouldn’t try — because seven’s eyes start to get pinpricks again. because he was so fucking in love with her, right now, always, forever (he was so damn sure of it).

“look i just wanna say this, and i mean, i don’t know if you wanna hear it—and i’m sorry for ruining it, ruining now, and your plans, and it’s not just like… fuck. i don’t know what i’m saying.”

seven doesn’t watch the way jennifer’s face no doubt went through a wide variety of expressions, before a very gentle, “do you want me to like, touch you anywhere?” comes from her. still not committed to one spot, but her hands were off, now.

“no, no, i mean, yes, no—fuck! i don’t know!” heels of his palms against his eyes, seven keeps the pressure there until he’s seeing stars and whatever tears threatened to spring from him left.

“breathe… you’re really freaking me out here, dude.”

too much drawn out silence, as seven can’t get a word out and jennifer just sits there. waiting. waiting for him to actually say something that doesn’t sound like he was having a meltdown, third degree. what he wouldn’t give to be able to just turn back time, even a few minutes ago, where he didn’t think about the fact that jen had said she loved him, and he hadn’t spiralled, and maybe she just liked having sex with him—that was a fair assumption, right?

just say it, lawless. just fucking say it. he wouldn’t know the reality until he said it.

“i love you.”

deep breath. head first dive. seven opens his eyes, and repeats himself, for each and every time jen had said those words to him. maybe it was too much, too forceful, too idiotic to assume. but it tumbles from him, broken dam and all that poetic wording normally crammed into the hours dedicated to songwriting.

when seven finishes, it’s all too much to wait, really. wet his lips and wait, wait, wait, for the fragile state of this relationship, whatever it was to her, to just. end. tells himself he’d take it gracefully, bow out and all that, but that’s a lie.

biggest one he’d told himself to date.

jen fidgets, then. twisting earrings and rings and necklaces and the hem of her shirt and it’s her turn to tear up. to get all snotty and arms around his neck and she’s apologising, for hugging him, not asking. laughing about this situation they got themselves into and jen’s million miles a minute sentences crash into his ears — worried she’d hurt him, mostly, but he picks up the thoughts of thinking seven wanted to end it, and that. well. she loved him, too.

madly, badly, always, she says, a kiss punctuating each word; signed, sealed, delivered. the laugh that leaves seven is just as much relief as it is in amusement, at the two of them. the two idiots, now, back of her car, half dressed and sun rising.

and a little more in love than what they started the night as.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: FINAL CHAPTER

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Characters in this chapter: Dean Winchester, Mrs. Butters (mentioned), Jack Kline, Meg Masters, Billie Pilgrim, Pamela Barnes, Rowena Macleod, Gabriel, Crowley (seen but not heard), Missouri Mosely, Alex Jones (seen but not heard), Lydia, Emma Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Castiel Novak, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Casey Wood, Jo Harvelle/Victor Henriksen/Nick Iblis/Zeke Gadreel (mentioned), Sam and Jess Winchester (mentioned), Tessa Porter

Warnings/tags for this chapter: if you've read this far, you're golden xox

Words in this chapter: 5K

Author's note: Cute Sparkle Gryphon Meme

Emma driving is for @stusbunker. Love you, sis.

Thank you to Stu and to my 12yr ride or die @brrose-apothecary for read-throughs and late-night convos and for being my friends.

CHAPTER TEN

A week to the day before Dean is to be released, he and the others say goodbye to Jack. Mrs. Butters in the kitchen helps Dean bake and decorate a cake with a very cool screen print of Red Hood that Pamela found online, and Meg commandeers Jack's phone to add Pamela's, Dean's, and her own contact info to his address book.

"Hope you don't mind if I call you sometime, kid," Dean mutters. 

There's a tight, heavy knot in his chest that he can't loosen. He wants to keep in touch with Jack so he can celebrate his successes. He doesn't want to be the old Dean who keeps in touch out of fear that Jack will stumble with no one around to catch him.

But deeply woven within that knot is an intense foreboding, stoking Dean's fear of letting Jack walk out the door.

"Of course," Jack answers, distracted by his pinging phone, telling him his Uber is one minute down the street. "I'll text you."

Dean nods and chews his lip. "We can trade me-mes," he says, watching the kid not watch him. 

Dean has to actively restrain himself from pushing the flop of hair from across Jack's forehead and demanding the kid's attention. The knot spirals around his organs and rib cage into his gut.

"Meme," Meg says, trying to help Jack straighten the strap of his bag.

"What?" Dean asks.

"It's pronounced meme. Like theme," Meg answers, stepping back into place next to him.

Dean shakes his head as his heart jolts and dives at the sight of the white Honda pulling up in front of the big glass doors.

"Good luck, Jacky." Rowena appears at Dean's other side, looping an arm through the crook of Dean's elbow. "We'll miss you, sweet boy."

Meg mirrors Rowena, hooking her arm through Dean's. Dean drops his chin to his chest with a sigh, realizing how transparent his anxiety is to his friends.

"Ciao, baby," Meg bids the teenager a farewell, watching him stumble over his own sneakers toward the door.

"Bye, guys," Jack calls with a wave. "And thanks for the cake; it was really good!"

And then he's gone.

Dean starts a list of everyone with whom he needs to make amends. Emma's at the top of that list, so he always remembers how far he's come and can fall.

Castiel is the closest second.

Before Emma walked in on him with Max and Anna last year, Dean could sleep at night by telling himself he hadn't imposed on anyone or lied, cheated, or stolen. He told himself that he cleaned up his own messes and that he was just fine with death, closure, and a whole fuckin' bottle of Jack. 

Then he broke his little girl's heart. 

"Do you think you were trying to prove something to Castiel that day?" Billie asked.

"I think you know what I was doin'. Why don't you tell me what I was tryna prove?"

Billie was right as usual; Dean wanted to prove to Cas that he wasn't worthy of Cas's respect. Dean knew that kid was going to die if someone didn't go in there — and probably even if someone did — and he decided to be the kamikaze pilot because fuck everybody who still had faith in him; he wasn't worth their concern.

"The list!" Meg plops into a seat next to him with two cups of coffee. "Dean Bean, that list is hella long. You should pare it back for your first round."

She takes a sip of her coffee, handing him his as she peers over the rim of her cup.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. "Every single person I think of makes my stomach hurt."

"Did you show it to Billie yet?" Meg slides her stocking feet into Dean's lap.

"Not yet. Meetin' with her in 10." He twists in his seat to accommodate her.

Meg nods. "Drink your coffee and keep me entertained ‘til you gotta go."

She burrows into her seat with an impish grin, and Dean smirks back as he sets to work, kneading her heels and thumbing the knotted muscles in her arches.

Four days after Jack, Meg is discharged. Pamela decides to stay beyond her discharge date for extra support from Billie and Cain. 

After their morning hike, Meg and Pamela say their goodbyes, and Pamela heads to Billie's office to plan another family session for the coming weekend. 

Dean waits with Meg for her sister Dani's arrival. Meg is keyed up and wide-eyed in the best way. Her fresh face is framed with braids on either side, compliments of Pamela, her sky blue backpack secured over her (Dean's) too-big hoodie, scuffed-up but neatly tied hiking boots, and softly worn jeans. 

Dean thinks she looks like she's headed off to college with her entire life ahead of her, and he thinks that look is fitting as fuck.

"I put Dani's number in your phone; she still has a landline." Meg rolls her eyes as she absently twists the straps of her backpack.

Mere days before Meg was admitted to rehab, Dani inherited their childhood home and land after months of legal battles surrounding the farm. After she and Meg made amends, they planned to renovate the old farmhouse together. Meg told Dean how thankful she is to have the project to keep her on her toes, not to mention her adopted niece Kaia. 

Meg's phone chimes with a text from Dani.

"She's just around the corner," Meg breathes, flicking her eyes to meet Dean's. "Three days?"

"You got it, sister." Dean pulls her in for a hug. "I'll be outta here, and we'll be 2.1 together. Right?"

"Right."

Last week, Dean and Meg realized that they had grown up less than 10 miles apart. There's not even one excuse Dean can think of to not continue their morning hikes and coffee at least once a week, and he can't wait to witness Meg's inevitable bloom outside this place. 

He sees Dani pull up and releases Meg. 

"Keep an eye on PB," Meg murmurs, pulling away and not quite meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean nods silently as Meg drops her gaze to her feet and shuffles toward the door.

"Goodbye, love!" Rowena calls from the lobby's catwalk, and Meg looks up with a wide grin and a wave.

"Take care, kiddo!" Gabe waves from beside Rowena, with Crowley lurking behind them both.

Dean wins Meg's gaze one last time before she finally climbs up inside her sister's Jeep. 

"How are you feeling about everything, Dean?" Billie asks.

He's nervous and excited, a little bit scared but mostly hopeful. He's determined to make amends with people and looks forward to seeing his little girl outside therapy and hugging his niece and nephew.

"Good," Dean answers.

Dean doesn't fool himself into believing he can repair all of his faults in 28 days. His provisional relationship with Billie was hard-won. He respects her knowledge and advice, but he'll never be open enough with her to tell her everything.

"Good," she replies. "Don't forget — 90 meetings in 90 days. Look for a sponsor..."

Billie rattles off the rules that Dean used to consider common sense. After the last few weeks, though, Dean has realized how bogus the phrase common sense is because so many people walk around without knowledge that Dean's taken for granted since he can remember knowing anything. The fact that that phrase masquerades itself as a universal truth is kind of bullshit, in Dean's opinion.

"Yeah, I remember: how long have they been sober; are they full of shit; do I like them—"

"You know I have to say these things, right?" Billie smirks and arches a brow.

Dean chuckles and nods. "Am I stealin' your thunder?"

Billie actually laughs.

The night before he leaves, Dean does all his laundry except his pajamas and packs his bag. He leaves the bag on what was Jack's bed six days ago, denying the 47th urge to call the kid because he promised himself he wouldn’t call Jack before Jack called him. 

In the dark of night, the emotions he accepted earlier at face value become garbled and daunting. He starts to see the edges of rational thought being peeled back by the demons lurking in his subconscious, slithering out to tell him that he's foolish and undeserving and will fail.

The sober experience of his darker cognition is fascinating and frightening. He takes a good chunk of time lying there, stunned to his core that he was ever blind enough to fall for this.

"Fuck off," he mutters as he rolls to his side. "I'm gettin' the fuck outta here and on with my life."

The next morning, Dean and Pamela go for a hike like usual. They have coffee, and she sits with him while he smokes.

"You gonna be OK?" he asks.

"What, without you and Megan, the 2.1 twins?"

Dean startles at Pamela's tone and arched brow.

He never meant for anyone, not even Crowley, to hear his and Meg's 2.1 mantras. It was never about their lack of faith in anyone else. It was always about their bond and shared need to hear it from the other one to get them through.

"You're not subtle, either of you," she drolls, shifting her gaze to the woods. 

"PB..."

"It's fine, Dean." She peeks back at him. "And, yes, I'll be fine, too. Once I get my ground legs back and earn more trust from my mother-in-law."

"Sammy can help, ya know," Dean reminds her of when Sam visited and heard her case. He told Dean on the spot that he wanted to help her, and Dean wasted no time relaying the message and ensuring Pamela had Sam's phone number and email address.

"He can, legally, and I'll call him." Pamela nods, keeping her eyes on the wooded area just beyond the deck where she and Dean had just walked and laughed. "But Jesse's mom hasn't let me forget for one second how much she doesn't trust me."

Dean doesn't take his eyes off Pamela's trembling profile. "Then make her."

Pamela blinks and inhales a stuttering breath before glancing over at Dean with watery eyes. She sniffles as she accepts Dean's open, outstretched hand to squeeze. 

"Thank you," she whispers, letting the tears fall. "I'm gonna miss you, ya little shit."

Dean laughs as he pulls her in for a hug.

At 12:25 PM, Pamela is seated on the desk, arching across the expanse to help Alex pick a dress for her sorority's spring formal, Rowena is explaining to Missouri the plot of the last murder mystery she starred in, and Gabriel is practically gnawing Dean's ear from the side of his head with small-talk. 

"Gabe?"

"Yeah, man," Gabe turns to face Dean head-on, cracking his knuckles and bouncing on his toes.

"I'm gonna need you to dial back the Tigger impression by at least five clicks, OK, because I'd like to be somewhat chill when my kid gets here to pick me up."

"Oh! Right. Yes." Gabe salutes Dean before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back to watch the door. He mutters chill to himself a couple of times before the familiar deep blue BMW rolls up in front of the door.

"Oh, my word, look at that," Rowena marvels as she and Pamela join Dean and Gabe at the door. "The wee lass is all grown up! Ye must be so proud, Dean."

Dean nods. Emma's a gift that he'll work the rest of his life to deserve getting, and he'll always be proud of her. But his heart fumbles over the fact that he missed the milestone of being the one to teach her to drive.

Lydia steps out of the passenger side, waving from the curb.

"Well, go on," Pamela encourages Dean. "Get out there and show 'em what you're made of, Daddy."

Dean's heart swells to near bursting as he hugs everyone goodbye, including Missouri and Alex.

"You take good care of yourself, Dean Winchester," Missouri says with a kind Missouri smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he nods before scanning the faces of his friends and walking out the door into his future.

"How's the Casbah sound?" Lydia asks from the back seat.

Dean loves the Casbah, and Lydia knows that, but he can't answer her; he's too busy watching his baby girl drive a fucking car.

Lydia shifts forward as Emma signals, checks her mirrors, and carefully changes lanes. 

"Pretty wild, huh?" she mutters over Dean's shoulder. "Just yesterday, you were teaching her to ride a bike."

Dean huffs a small chuckle and nods his head. "Straight from a trike to a two-wheeler. No trainin’ wheels for my girl."

Emma rolls her eyes over a blush and a sheepish grin. "So. Casbah?"

"Casbah," Dean confirms with a grin of his own, turning his shaded gaze toward the horizon.

"Hi," he starts, glancing around a circle of people of all ages and walks of life. "I'm... Dean. And I'm an alcoholic and addict."

"Hi, Dean," from the crowd.

Dean nods and draws a deep breath, struggling to keep his head up and maintain eye contact with each person. Ugly fears and insecurities threaten his spirit, but he shoos them away.

"I'm 28 days sober, and I feel... good. Went to dinner with my little girl tonight. She and her mom're waitin' for me down the street at the ice cream place." 

The strangers in the circle fidget, mumble, and nod. The tension he feels is all about himself and his inability to just blend the fuck in. He knew doing this all over again with a new group of people would be hard. Then, his eyes land on a burly, bearded guy with clear blue eyes and an encouraging smile. He holds the man’s gaze like it’s a life raft.

“I’ve only been out a few hours, so I still have to call and apologize to everyone for fuckin’ up so bad.”

The man nods, shifting forward in interest. The kind of attention the man is giving him might make him feel like a bug under a microscope under other circumstances, but the man’s earnest compassion and engagement serve to embolden Dean.

“The first call’s the biggest, but they’ll all be tough. My buddy — my best friend and former boss — that’s kinda the eye of the storm. I think if I call him first, that’ll help me get through the others.”

It feels good to think out loud and strategize, knowing his audience has been there and done that. Dean’s especially keen to learn where his potential new friend has been.

After the meeting is done, Dean makes his way over to the man in question. There are two other people trying to talk to him, and Dean starts to worry that he’s one of those guys Billie told him about who accepts everyone’s sponsorship request for status or whatever.

“...I know someone I think’ll be a good fit f’you, Sorento. Lemme reach out and see when he might could grab a cuppa coffee.”

“Thanks, Benny. Never thought my sponsor’d fall off the wagon, ya know?”

“I hear ya, brother, and I’m sorry. You take care, and I’ll get right back, ya hear?”

The taller, darker-skinned man nods before backing away, and the other person Dean thought was waiting to talk to Benny follows.

“Hey, Dean.” Benny smiles, extending a hand. “I’m Benny. Glad you could make it tonight.”

Dean nods, accepting Benny’s hand and shaking it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate your support.”

“You’ve got it, brother.” 

They chat about the ins and outs of meetings and sobriety for a few minutes until Dean realizes that Emma and Lydia are still waiting for him. 

“Well, I gotta go catch up with my daughter, but uh... thanks again.” 

Dean shifts his weight, having flashbacks to his teen years and the first time he asked someone out on a date.

“But I was wonderin’ if you were a sponsor to anyone else? Or... if you had room for one more?”

Benny smiles wide and bright. “It’d be an honor, Dean. What’s your number?”

On his first full day outside, at 9 AM, Dean starts dialing numbers.

"Hey, Cas," he pauses to cringe at the tremor in his too-eager voice. "It's uh... it's Dean."

There's a split second of silence, and Dean almost hangs up.

"I know, Dean. I have your contact in my phone with a picture of you and Claire from Thanksgiving."

The memory of that day is bittersweet to Dean for a dozen reasons, not the least of which was Claire's mental health at the time. She'd run away from home less than a week after her mom lost her months-long battle with ovarian cancer. Cas had just gotten Claire back and decided to have a small gathering at their home to celebrate her return.

Claire didn't feel like celebrating.

"He just doesn't understand," Claire whispered through the tears that Dean worked overtime to wipe away.

"Maybe he doesn't understand exactly how you feel, honey, but he does love you."

"Does he even miss her?" Her trembling lip broke Dean's heart all over again.

"I know he misses her. He loved your mom, Claire. So much."

"He's so... happy."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. 'Coz you're home. You're his little girl and his only family. Try to understand that." 

"Dean? Are you— are you there?"

Dean jolts from his reverie and shrugs off Cas's matter-of-fact mention of that day lest it gives his demons the upper hand again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I'm calling..." Dean takes a deep breath and looks out his kitchen window to watch a couple of squirrels chasing each other through the parking lot. 

"Cas, I'm sorry. You're my best friend, and I love and respect you, but I defied your order and endangered the team. I broke at least four laws that day and put you and the department under scrutiny 'coz of my own fucked up mess. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out that I could help myself and that I'm worth helping, and to stop hurting other people."

Cas is quiet for longer this time. Dean yearns to fill the silence or turn back time or run away and hide. Instead, he breathes through it and waits for whatever response Cas gives him because this is sobriety.

"You made it.” Cas’s tone is full of pride and satisfaction.

Dean anticipated 17 scenarios, but this takes him off-guard. Before he can ask what he means, Cas fills in the blank.

"I read about rehab and the likelihood of people making it through their prescribed programs. The statistics are 30%—"

"Yeah, and my group was only seven people, so 30% is 2.1." Dean can't help but chuckle. Cas doesn't know about his and Meg’s joke, but it doesn't matter because Cas is family, and family just gets it. 

"Well, apart from the impossibility of the existence of .1 of a human being, it's good to hear your voice, Dean. I missed you."

Dean smiles so wide his face hurts. "Missed you too, man. How's Claire?"

Through Cas's heavy sigh, Dean can hear the smile in his voice. "Claire is Claire. She missed you as well. Once you're settled, we want you to come over for dinner."

Cas doesn't rebuke Dean. He doesn't rehash the past. He doesn't tell Dean he can't come back to work — because Cas knows that Dean already knows all of that, and neither of them has time for anything but catching up and reconnecting.

"I'd love it," Dean replies. "Thank you. For accepting my apology and letting me say what I needed."

"Always. I knew you'd make it and that our relationship would endure another shift. We will always be friends, Dean."

After his call with Cas, Dean calls Bobby and Ellen. They're less gracious than Cas with their acceptance, which doesn't surprise Dean.

"You were supposed to protect your team, Dean, not put them in danger!"

Dean doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t make excuses. He listens to Ellen yell and damn him to Hell until she’s crying so hard that Bobby takes the phone away from her.

As Ellen’s sobs fade in the distance, Bobby speaks. “How you holdin’ up, boy?”

“I’m good, Bobby. Thanks for takin’ my call.”

“Never wouldn’t,” Bobby answers. “Stay strong, kid. We both love ya; she just needs some time.”

“I love you, too, Bobby — both of ya.”

Jo flat-out blocks his call. Her resistance surprises him even less than her mother’s ire. He won’t give up on Jo, no matter how hard she makes it for him. He knows deep down that she hasn’t given up on him either.

Casey’s gasp is her answer. 

“Case.”

“You OK?”

“I am. Now.” 

He lets the memories of her soft, dark eyes and gentle, capable hands loving him more than he could bear carry him through the call.

“I’m sorry, Case. I hurt you so many times, and I never made it easy to be with me. You’re a beautiful, beautiful woman, whip fuckin’ smart, and so good.”

“We’ve been over this, Dean...”

Dean doesn’t cut in where she’s left a vacancy. He won’t take advantage of her anymore. He waits for her to pick up her thoughts. He wants her to say what she means.

And she does.

“Dean, I... I’ll never regret you or resent you.”

After a moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Dean knows she’s crying.

He calls Victor, Nick, and Zeke, each awkward, compulsory, and hostile, respectively, but being uncomfortable is Dean’s new normal. And, for some reason, he kind of digs it. So, he’ll continue to make amends, no matter how it makes him feel.

After a week outside, Dean and Meg finally find a hiking trail they like and a coffee place they love before hitting the Lowe's Garden Center.

“Is this a joke?” Meg pokes at the limp lavender plant with indignation. “I can’t even believe they have this out for sale.”

“What do you care? We’re not here for lavender.” 

Dean wanders a few paces down the aisle. He’s never tended a plant in his life, so he researched and decided on a spider plant to start.

“Maybe I’m here for lavender.” Meg continues to inspect the small section of drooping topiaries.

Dean stops and glares at her over his shoulder. “You told me you wanted a buncha succulents. You said you wanted a ‘cool little terrarium’ or some shit.”

“Maybe I decided to also get lavender.” Meg shrugs, lifting one of the pathetic florals.

“Now that you’ve seen the stellar selection of lavender?” Dean arches a brow.

“Maybe I want a challenge,” she mutters, squatting with one plant to compare it to another.

“Maybe, maybe, maybe...” Dean rolls his eyes and turns smack into Castiel.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” Dean takes a step back, gripping Cas’s shoulders. He can’t believe his luck at seeing him while he’s with Meg.

“Hey, this is my friend, Meg.”

He motions to Meg, who is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with three dead plants in front of her. 

“Meg..." Dean snaps her to attention. "This is Cas.”

Meg blinks up at the men from where she sits on the ground. 

“Well. Hello, Cas.” 

She abandons her brief fascination to stand up and swipe her jeans and hands clean before shaking Castiel’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The fire chief looks adorably confused as usual, as he takes her hand in his. “And I have heard nothing about you.”

Meg side-eyes Dean, and he almost laughs out loud. She’ll drag him later for not telling Castiel about her, but the only reason he didn’t was to let her show him herself.

“Whatcha here for, Cas?” Dean watches his friends reluctantly release each other’s grip.

“Tomato plants and strawberry plants. You know how much sun our side patio gets.”

Dean nods. Before he can reply, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s the notification he set for Pamela, and his gaze darts to Meg, who’s pulling her own phone from her back pocket.

“Hang on, Cas — got a message I need to look at.” Dean pulls his phone from his pocket. When he looks down, his world tilts.

Jack’s back.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters with a sigh before snagging Meg’s worried gaze.

“I take it you’ve received bad news?” Cas asks.

“Well, it ain’t good,” Dean replies, pocketing his phone. “Dinner Thursday?”

“Yes. Claire wants dumplings. I’ve had two failed trial runs making them, so it could be an... interesting meal.”

Meg snorts at Dean’s side, drawing his attention. “Cas’s a terrible cook.”

“No shit?” Meg exaggerates with her hands on her hips.

“I need to go — get the plants and ingredients for tonight’s test.”

Meg stifles a cackle, and Dean hip-checks her. “OK, well, lemme know if I can help with the dumplings, Cas.”

They say their goodbyes, and barely before Castiel is out of earshot, Meg starts in. 

"You didn't tell me your 'weird little friend Cas' was hot, Dean."

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes. "I thought it was implied when I said you'd like him, Megan. Just gather your sad little flowers so we can go."

“Meh, I want succulents.” 

Dean spends the entire rest day bashing himself for waiting to call Jack. He wanted to give the kid space. He wanted to respect him, and... fuck, he can’t save everyone.

He calls Benny so he doesn’t drag Meg down his rabbit hole.

“Whaddaya want outta this, Dean? To call the kid and gloat?” Benny asks.

Dean cringes. “Is that what it sounds like?”

“Little bit.”

“Man, I’m not tryna be a martyr here; he’s a kid!” Dean really believes what he’s saying just as much as he tries to see what Benny sees.

“He’s a kid, but he ain’t yours, and he ain’t you. Remember your boundaries and your goals.”

Benny’s right, and Dean’s reminded of why he chose him to be his sponsor.

“Thanks, Benny. Thanks for takin’ my call, and thanks for being a great sponsor.” 

That night, Dean stumbles across something online that stuns him for a second. It’s labeled as Cute Gryphon Sparkle Meme. It’s a greyscale drawing of a cartoon gryphon with a sort of paint-by-number chart of how to color it based on your own interpretation of the instructions like “the color that best describes ‘cute’” and “the color that first comes to your head”.

Dean shares the link with Jack, hoping he gets his phone back soon so he can appreciate just how cute it is.

One month, eight hikes with Meg, and three trips to the garden center for more plants (because Dean has now decided that he fucking loves plants) later, a familiar, feminine voice jolts Dean from his reverie in the produce section.

“Dean?” 

He turns from where he’s filling his hand cart with all he needs for the guacamole he’s bringing to Sam and Jess’s tomorrow to find Tessa Porter.

“Tessa!” Dean smiles easily at her smile and how she moves closer to him without hesitation. 

She’s fresh-faced, her hair’s in a ponytail, and she’s wearing workout clothes. Dean drops three good-sized avocados into his basket and turns his back on the vegetables to focus on the woman facing him.

“You look great, Dean. How’ve you been?”

“Thanks! You just come from the gym? You look great, too. Not at all like you just worked out or anything, but fit. Like healthy. And glowing.”

He bites his tongue to stop from shoving his foot down his gullet.

Tessa grins and chuckles quietly, peeking into his basket. “Yoga class. Making some guac?”

Dean draws a breath and nods, looking down at his ingredients. “Yeah. My brother requested it for a cookout tomorrow. He says I make the best guac in three counties.”

Tessa tilts her head and purses her lips. “Hmm. I’ll have to try it sometime.” 

She snags Dean’s gaze, and he’s suddenly out of breath. 

Does she know what he did? Is she hitting on him? Have her eyes always been that color?

“Yeah. I’d uh... I’d like to make it for you sometime.”

Dean swears her irises change color as they stand there — honey to jade to turquoise to cerulean.

After a few beats, Tessa raises her eyebrows. “Are you going to ask me for my number?”

Dean blinks then chuckles, shaking his head. “I gotta ask somethin' else first — you know about rehab, right?”

Tessa nods. “I know. And I know you aren’t supposed to date right away, but... I’d like to be friends. If that’s OK? I’ve missed seeing you around, Dean.”

“Friends,” he echoes skeptically.

He and Tessa never discussed dating before because it would have been against department policy, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every chance he had. Still, they had a genuine connection — which is the real reason, even in Dean’s most reckless state, that he never crossed a line with her.

Tessa nods again. “For now — friends. Think you can handle that?”

Dean holds her soft, kaleidoscope gaze for a moment before shifting his basket to his other arm and reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Here.” He hands his unlocked phone to Tessa. “I would very much like it if you’d add yourself to my contacts so I can call ya sometime.”

Tessa grins again as she accepts the proffered device to quickly input her name and number. She flicks her eyes to his again as she hands him back his phone.

“I look forward to hearing from you. See you soon, Dean.”

Tessa looks him up and down before turning on her heel and sauntering away.

Dean’s eyes drop to the sway of her hips, and he shakes his head. 

“Hate sayin’ g’bye but love watchin’ her walk away,” he mutters under his breath with a hearty chuckle before heading to the aisle with chips and crackers, stifling the urge to Leprechaun kick next to the bananas.

Fifty-eight days sober feels pretty damn good.

Epilogue: coming soon

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist | Dean Winchester Masterlist | MJ’s Masterlist

[flojouno]

now i’m thinking about hair. i never had black friends growing up. didn’t have a black classmate until freshman of high school, then moved to a different school with no black students in sophomore year. hell i didn’t even have black online friends. now i have more black online friends (i don’t leave the house so black irls is tricky) and even THEN im not very close to them.

so my experience with my blackness has been centered by my family. my dads side is the worst cause my grandma hated black hair (given she grew up when our hair was called nappy and messy). she always complained when i wore it naturally. insulted me and constantly questioned when i’d get it “fixed”. my mom is from the islands so she appreciates it. she doesn’t understand how americans do their afros tho (she kinda just wets the hair and add oil and call it a day. no shaping or anything). i think my sister and cousin are the only ones who know how to take care of our hair! they both keep theirs really short.

i really like color and longer hair. i despise wearing wigs and weaves aren’t for me. it’s either dying my natural hair or braided extensions/other styles like locs or twists etc. i prolly do have more options but my mom does my hair.

it’s so fascinating to think about how other people get their hair done. friends always tell me about how they got their hair cut, dyed and fixed up in salons and barbers. it’s so fascinating and it’s like. a few hour process!! or less!! mine is like a whole weekend thing. never is a one day thing. never. cut the braids shorter, take the braids out, detangle then wash well, and prepare to braid. that alone takes most the day for me. plus my mom does it alone 9/10 of the time. she works on her feet all day so she needs more breaks, we don’t have good spots to have us both sitting while she does it, and taking out my own hair is awful and nearly impossible. do you know how tiring it is to fiddle with the top of your head for hours? that’s a whole workout right there! i can only do so much!

by the time my hair is washed and detangled again i’m exhausted. so is my mom. we usually continue it for the next day. preparing my hair and then braiding. i never learned to braid when i was younger so learning now isn’t ideal on my own head. but my mom and sister help which im so grateful for. i used to be so tender headed when i was little but my mom stopped yanking my hair as hard and now i can handle it better. a lot of my memories are sitting in the chair in front of my mom, me sleeping or on my laptop/listening to music on my phone, while my mom watches her shows. i have thick tight curls and my hair is getting longer each time i take out my braids (which is good since my hair had grown super slow my whole life. i blame all the relaxing and straightening). so getting each braid in is hell.

of course it’s also being braided with the fake hair. whatever color i wanted, and now im getting more creative with the styles! making bangs or putting beads or leaving the ends open or braiding all the way down with charms and stuff. it’s the best way i can do to express myself! it’s my hair! it takes time and effort and work to get my hair done. i’m stuck with it for a while so i better like how it ends! having my hair braided makes my life so much easier, especially since i’ve had depression since 10 years old. it’s been a struggle to take care of myself at all, so having the huge HUGE possibility of my hair getting knotted and matted and dirty was also right around the corner. braiding has been my savior.

not sure what this post is but i like talking about my hair :3 don’t get a lot of chances too. i never realized how much my hair means to me.