#TO SLEEP- NO MORE AND BY A SLEEP TO SAY WE END? THE HEARTACHE AND THOUSAND NATURAL SHOCKS THAT FLESH IS HEIR TO? THERES THE RESPECT THAT

[spiderwarden]

[smoft-demons]

MC falls asleep on him

_______

Lucifer:

‘…?!’ Is what Lucifer is thinking as your head drops onto his shoulder.

You had cajoled him into doing some of his constant paperwork in a bigger chair for a change. So there’s room for you to sit next to him! You’re not even demanding his attention, or the spare time that he doesn’t have, you’re being very considerate, you just wanted sit next to him, that’s all, you had promised!

Lucifer caved, because he is very soft for his human—even though he’s loathe to look like it. You were in fact being considerate… so he had brought a stack of relatively low-importance papers out of his office, into the living room.

You were sitting on a couch together, him with his stack of administrative papers and you with a homework assignment. You finished yours quickly, so you ended up playing a game on your DDD as you lean against him.

He checks on you periodically out of the corner of his eye. He’s relaxed though—as relaxed as Lucifer gets. This is peaceful. Meditative, almost. He’s happy. All his brothers are elsewhere, his tasks are not too overwhelming, he gets to have a nice, calming afternoon sitting in companionable silence with his favourite housemate…

A sudden weight falling on him jolts him out of his trance. Your cheekbone thunks against his shoulder. He blinks. Processing.

In quick succession, his brain goes like ‘..?!’ then ‘it is mid-afternoon why are you sleeping’ and ‘have we been overworking our human?’ and ‘aww. MC really does trust me that much.’

He adjusts the way you’re situated so you’re more comfortable as he finishes up the last of his work. When he’s done, he takes a moment to just observe. To appreciate your trust in him. Also, to congratulate himself again for his part in the creation of the exchange program, because it brought you into his life.

(He tries to ignore the stubborn twinge of nostalgic heartache he feels as well. You’re reminding him so much of Belphie, from back when his relationship with him was good. He’d never admit it, but he misses having his babiest brother fall asleep on him like this.)

Lucifer gathers up his papers, then picks you up, being careful not to jostle you too much. Let no one ever say he doesn’t take good care of his human. He carries you to your room to put you to bed. Clearly you need the extra sleep. Or… well, he tries to. You’re holding onto him pretty insistently.

He expects himself to feel irritated, but… no. He can’t help but feel a little smug, actually. It’s cute, you’re cute, you don’t seem to want him to leave you. So… fine. He’ll oblige. For a short break.

(An hour or two later, you’ll wake up to the smells and sounds of dinner being prepared. You’re… not under your blanket? No, you’re covered by Lucifer’s ridiculously long coat. It’s warm, soft. It smells like him. In this moment, it’s impossible to miss how loved you are.)

_______

Mammon:

The first time this happened (in your room, watching movies without any of his brothers for once), Mammon was stunned. He had frozen up, stuttered some nonsense to no one in particular, then quickly slapped his free hand over his mouth as he realized he would wake you if he didn’t immediately chill out.

Now though? You’ve been in his life for a while. He’s your oldest friend here. Those movie nights had become a habit, even though it remained rare to have one with no one else joining in. So this has happened a lot, and he’s gotten used to it. He doesn’t react so outwardly anymore, not unless one of his brothers show up to make fun of him.

If they try it, Mammon is rather aggressive about shushing them. At first, because he hated to be so obvious about how much he cares about you, but now that he’s a bit more used to it, it’s because he doesn’t want them to disturb you. He feels like he’s protecting you by keeping his brothers from waking you up. Sometimes, he’s the one who wakes you up by telling them to shut up just a bit too loudly, or silently gesturing for them to be quiet or go away a little too enthusiastically.

His brothers roast him even more for that. Poor thing.

Time and time again, you pass out on his shoulder. During a movie, mid relaxed hangouts with various groups of the brothers, in the rare times when hanging out solo with Mammon is a relaxing low-energy affair, while studying, during the lunch break at school, even in class sometimes. His heart warms, and he can’t help but smile at the familiar feel of you conked out on his shoulder again. He doesn’t even mind if you snore.

Mammon is usually such a loud, high energy person. Neither you nor him finds anything wrong with that of course, it’s one of many lovable things about him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like being able to just chill with you sometimes though. It’s nice.

Eventually, he gets familiar enough with this that he’s willing to move you around to get more comfortable. With time, he learns exactly what ways he can move you without disturbing you. So most of the time when you fall asleep on him, you wake up in some other position. Sitting in his lap, lying down with a sleeping Mammon wrapped around you, being carried to another room, propped up against his side in your next class, being hugged like a teddy bear in his room, etc etc.

He never questions why you’re tired. He just lets you pass out on him. He wants you to be in the best possible condition, and he will happily take all the time with you he can get. He takes this to mean that you also want all the time with him that you can get, that you would rather stay with him than go to bed when you’re tired because you would rather not be separated from him. Just like how he feels about you. Why else would he be in your room as often as he is?

You trusting him enough to sleep on him all the time makes him feel like he’s being a good guardian demon, like he’s as precious to you as you are to him.

He’s a fan of all the free cuddles he gets out of this, too.

_______

Levi:

You’re in Levi’s room with him, set up very comfortably as you’re marathoning an anime together. You’ve been at it for hours though, you’re already a bit sleep deprived, and you’ve seen this one a few times already. You can’t stop yourself from nodding off. Your head drops onto his shoulder.

Levi freaks out.

“afgshrjdxssh—WH-!” He flails. You immediately snap awake again. “You—uhh-!” He shoves you away in a panic, then immediately changes his mind, pulling you back in, then freezes for a moment before letting go of you to flap his hands frantically. “Nonono stay—wait no, you don’t want to—I mean, you don’t have to—I mean, get o—uhh! Um! I mean! S-stay if you want, but I don’t care if you don’t want to—!”

You blink slowly at him a couple times. Trying to parse his contradictory sputtering. You’re tired, you’re not working at full brain power. You figure he means something along the lines of: ‘ooo I’m Levi, I have bad self esteem and I can’t believe you want to touch me, but I want you to, but I can’t say that because I cope with feeling unlovable by acting all tsundere because that way I feel less pathetic, love you though!’

You know. Standard Levi stuff. You love him so much—and you’d be very happy if he started therapy.

For now though, you just grab his arm and pull him closer to you again. You bury your face in his shoulder. This time, it’s unmistakably a deliberate move. Wordlessly telling him that you do in fact love him enough to want to touch him.

It’s like his body just took a screenshot! He keysmashes out loud.

Slowly, he calms down. He puts one hesitant arm around you. You don’t move. He can’t tell if you’re already asleep again or just pretending to be, but either way you seem to be comfortable.

Soon enough, he finds himself smiling like an absolute dork. This… is actually very effective reassurance. He feels all warm and fuzzy and loved. He likes holding you.

It’s reminding him of TSL fluff fics he’s read where absolutely nothing happens except Henry and the Lord of Shadows cuddle. A way for him to experience affection vicariously through a character he relates to and a character he loves, when he really wants hugs himself but can’t have any.

He squeezes you softly as his heart warms. He squishes his cheek against the side of your head.

“I love my Henry..!” Levi mumbles to himself, under his breath. He has no way of knowing if you heard that, which is why he said it out loud. It’ll be a while until he gets the nerve to say it when he knows you can hear.

_______

Satan:

He is HONOURED, he is OVERJOYED, he is MELTING, he is… very carefully remaining perfectly chill.

It’s the same type of happiness as when a cat decides to sit on you out of nowhere. He’s been chosen!

He is SO happy you trust him so much!

He had been reading, as usual. You had been sitting next to him, as usual. You had gotten tired, and without a moment of hesitation you had buried your face in his shoulder and fallen asleep.

He carefully contains all the joy this gives him, so he doesn’t disturb you. He wraps an arm around you, plants a soft kiss on your head, and goes right back to reading.

If you sleep fitfully, he’ll stroke your hair to soothe you.

When you wake up, he’ll ask if you had a nice nap. He won’t make any moves to make you get off him. If you choose to anyway, he won’t react outwardly, because he doesn’t want to discourage you falling asleep on him again. He wants this to happen lots more! So he’ll just smile at you and go back to his book.

But if you don’t choose to leave, he’ll shift you entirely into his lap to make you both more comfortable. He can hug you properly like this. If he’s sure you’ll be comfortable with it, he’ll kiss your forehead before going back to his book. He’s very happy to keep you there.

_______

Asmo:

Predictably, Asmo’s gonna take ALL the pictures of this!

A few in which he doesn’t look at the camera, as if they were candid shots. Some where he’s posing cutely, a couple where he’s kissing your head, a bunch of various angles of your sleeping face. What can he say, he thinks the way your cheek squishes against his collarbone is just precious.

A bit less predictably, he posts none on devilgram. No, these are just for him.

…maybe the best ones are for the group chat. He’s gotta show off his cute human to someone, it may as well be to his brothers. They’ll appreciate you properly. He’ll share after you’ve woken up, though. He doesn’t want anyone barging in to disturb you.

He’ll share the pictures with you as well if you ask, of course! What he will NOT do, however, is risk you deleting them! He’ll back them up first. He’ll store them in a hidden album if you’re shy about them, but he’s not deleting them!

Well, unless you’re genuinely uncomfortable. Then, okay fine. But please let him keep at least one? You’re so cute!

He’ll be more affectionate over the following days. Trying to be next to you all the time, inviting you to his room at every opportunity, pulling you to sit next to him. All because he hopes you’ll fall asleep on him again. Or just lean on him like that, and let him cuddle you. Please, he’d be SO happy!

_______

Beel:

Beel is so used to this behaviour. Belphie falls asleep on him all the time. He’d be the most chill about it.

As if it’s routine, he’ll secure you in your position with his arm, so you can’t fall and get hurt. He’ll rub your back and hum softly to you to help you relax if you don’t seem to be sleeping well. Beel is warm and soft and big and comfy, like the giant teddy bear he is at heart. He’s considerate and gentle. He’s always really sweet to you, and that doesn’t change one bit even when you’re unconscious.

When he inevitably gets too hungry to stay where he is, he’ll just take you to the kitchen with him. It’s no problem, he does this with Belphie all the time. It doesn’t matter how much you weigh, Beel can carry you easily. He thinks nothing of it.

He can cook one handed too if he needs to. He’s got practice—also because of Belphie. He’s chilling, he’s comfortable, there’s nothing unusual about this at all to him.

If the kitchen noises wake you up, he’ll apologize and share his food with you. He’ll tell you outright that he’s happy to let you use him as a pillow whenever you want.

(Also, he makes a mental note to drop you off with Belphie instead of bringing you along to the kitchen and risking waking you up again next time)

If it doesn’t wake you up, no problem! That’s what he expected. He just carries you around as he does what he needs to do around the house. He’ll put you to bed properly if he needs to go outside of course, but otherwise he’s bringing you with him.

When you wake up, he’ll put you down if you somehow indicate that’s what you want. If you don’t though, he just… won’t. He likes holding you. He’d do it so often if he thought you’d like him to.

_______

Belphie:

…Welp. The table has turned, hasn’t it.

People don’t fall asleep on Belphie while he’s awake too often! He’s not usually conscious to experience this! He likes it though. He thinks you’re being so cute.

9 times out of 10, Belphie will take this as his cue to cuddle up to you and join you in sleep. He can always be tempted into a nap. He’d make sure this the comfiest, nicest, most restful nap you’ve ever taken. He’d make sure you feel so safe and loved. You will NOT be disturbed on his watch.

On the rare tenth time, when Belphie isn’t tired, he might whine about being trapped. When one of his brothers points out that he can move you very easily, he glares at them. He maintains that it’s illegal to move when you’ve been chosen as someone’s pillow. When it’s pointed out that he’s perfectly capable of waking you if he really wants to get up, he looks affronted. He would NOT do that, he says. Do they think he’s completely heartless, he asks.

Well. He wouldn’t do that unless he’s feeling particularly bratty. He’d totally do it to any of his brothers… but he’s soft with you. He loves you. Be so for real, do you think he’d really ever pass up an opportunity to cuddle you? No way. He can go shopping later.

He won’t tell you that though. He’ll bitch about it to your face, complaining until you agree to go shopping with him next time, all the while refusing to let go of you.

He already was not hesitating to fall asleep on you, but he somehow gets more shameless and constant about it. Since you’re doing it too, it’s your thing now. You’d be a hypocrite to complain now.

Yeah, he couldn’t be happier about this. Please sleep on him all the time. Enable him even more! He’ll make sure you won’t regret it.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day. 

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view. 

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you. 

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.  

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade. 

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours. 

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad. 

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.  

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.” 

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure. 

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him. 

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps. 

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt. 

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.”  Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” 

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash. 

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet. 

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get. 

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction. 

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops. 

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

[livinginshambles]

I want to be loved first | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Summary: Established relationship and angst: James still loves Lily, it's clear to you. You try to ignore the way your heart aches when you always seem to be second on his mind, knowing you will never compare to her and unsure how much more you can take.

Notes: Its happy ending again, sorry guys. I'd say no beta, we die like fred, but that feels too soon so anyway, spelling and grammar mistakes probably.

Masterlist

____________________________

People have often told you that you need to toughen up and grow a spine. That your lack of backbone had everyone trample on you like you were a crosswalk, and you could definitely say that they were right.

Perhaps that's why you were crying in the middle of the night because of James Potter. He was laying behind you, pressed against your back with an arm draped over you. His face was hidden in the back of your neck, breathing steadily against it as he slept peacefully, unaware of the heartache he was causing you when he whispered Lily's name. Again.

When he'd done it the first time, your blood had run cold, goosebumps showing up and littering your bare arms. Tears had prickled in your eyes at his barely audible, mumbled confession. "Love you so much Lily."

You had turned around to face him and your rustling had woken him up. Eyes still closed, he'd groggily shifted and pulled you against his chest. “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, just a nightmare,” you had responded in a small voice. Your answer had him finally open his eyes, somewhat concerned. He had lifted his arm to yawn against it and then settled it back on top of you in such a way that his hand had easy access to your nape, drawing circles in an attempt to calm you.

“I've got you, love. Nothing can hurt you, as long as I'm here,” he had assured you.

Ironic.

So now here you were lying down, your tears were freely rolling down your face and you were glad that the curtains of the bed were closed, leaving you in a private space, despite sleeping in the boy’s dormitory. It would be another sleepless night for you, it seemed.

When James stretched his arms to reach for you about four hours later, he frowned and sat up, confused at the lack of your presence. He pushed the red drapes aside and peeked into the room. Sirius was still asleep, face down. Peter was most likely curled up inside the pile of blankets on his bed and Remus was sitting up in bed, a book in his lap.

Even though it was the weekend, and you were anything but an early bird, you slipped out of bed in the early morning. You were sure that your eyes were red and puffy and didn’t want James to mention it.

He looked up when he heard James and raised his eyebrows in question when he noticed no one else behind him. “Have you seen Y/N?” James asked, sleep still heavily laced in his voice. Remus shook his head in thought. “No,” he whispered quietly, an eye on Sirius beside him. “I’ve been up since four in the morning though.”

James’ frown deepened. That meant that you had snuck out before that. But why? He got dressed impressively fast and descended the stairs to the common room. You were sitting at the tip of your chair, deeply engrossed into your transfiguration assignment, several books piled, some laying open, scattered across the small table.

You felt two arms securely wrap around you, almost melting in their designated position. “Morning,” James kissed your cheek.

You bit your lip, took a breath, and cast your hurt feelings aside. You turned your head and flashed him a smile. “Good morning, Jamie.” James took the opportunity of your head, tilted upwards at him, and dipped down to press his lips softly against yours, pecking you once, twice. “You’re up early,” he commented and nudged you. He slipped behind you, body fully relaxing into your back now.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied honestly and you leaned back into him. You laughed softly when you noticed his eyes drooping. “You’re tired, Jamie. Go back to sleep.” James made a sound but didn’t move, instead slouching even more against you.

“Hm, no, I missed you this morning. I’ll stay here,” he decided and drifted off to sleep. You didn’t doubt that he loved you.

“Go on a date with me next Friday,” James asked you while he was escorting you to your herbology class. You looked up at him surprised. “A date?” you dumbly repeated, trying not to be too excited about the prospect of a date. James usually ended up having things to do that he really couldn't get out of, so you would always end up canceling your dates.

James laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders. “Exactly. You and me alone. I was thinking of a picnic by the lake, no one else around, and maybe we could snog, but I’m also down to cuddle.” Your eyes crinkled up amusedly. “Don’t you have Quidditch, Jamie,” you raised your eyebrows. “You always have Quidditch practice after class,” you pointed out.

“Not next Friday. I already checked to make sure I didn't double book anything, and I warned Pads that I'm not taking on any new pranks until next week to avoid detention.” he grinned. “Friday will be one of those rare days when I have time to have my girl all to myself the entire afternoon.” His face then turned apologetic. “I know I don’t have much time to take you out, so Friday'll be perfect and I’ll make it up to you.” You threw your arms around his neck and hummed appreciatively in it. “I’d love that.”

James wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a kiss. “Prongs!” Sirius shouted from a distance. “Everyone is already waiting for you for Quidditch practice, how far are you going to escort her? I mean the greenhouse is on the other side of Hogwarts, mate,” Sirius complained but he blew you a dramatic kiss that James waved away with a sour look.

“Go on,” you laughed and untangled yourself from his arms. He quickly pressed a kiss to your lips and sprinted off towards the Quidditch field.

James dropped into the seat next to you. “Long time no see, love,” he said. You snorted. “James, I saw you two hours ago.” James shrugged, and flirtily smiled. “I said what I said.”

Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and class started. You were jotting down everything she said in a neat handwriting, knowing that James would end up asking to lend your notes, of course by offering kisses in return.

You glanced beside you and were surprised to find him hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. Impressed at the thought that he was actually paying attention, you couldn’t help but peer down at his notes and saw that he was sketching a girl.

Though he wasn’t the greatest artist, you could clearly see that the girl on the paper looked nothing like you, and instead had features that were strikingly similar to Lily. When James looked up from his drawing and glanced to his right where she was sitting, her eyes focused on Professor McGonagall, you felt your heart constrict again, but still decided not to comment on it. He was free to draw whoever he felt like drawing, you reminded yourself.

Jealousy is ugly.

You were sitting in the library, helping a third year with Defense against the dark arts theory, when James barged in, earning several disturbed looks and a threatening glare from the librarian.

“James?” you called to him quietly and motioned for him. James’ eyes spotted you and he slid over to you, wringing his hands together, biting his lips and his eyes darting around.

“You’re nervous,” You remarked while you eyed him up and down. “Or you feel bad. What is it?”

James let out a deep sigh at your bluntness, though he supposed it would be better to get straight to the point. “We can’t go on a date next week, I’ve got prefect stuff, gotta patrol.” You stared at him, your disappointment was visible on your face and James looked at the ground.

“But you already had patrol this week? Isn’t it every other week?” You asked, a bummed out look on your face.

“Well, actually, Lily asked me if I could do rounds with her next week,” he admitted. “Her usual assigned partner was injured during Quidditch practice apparently.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You were pretty sure she could ask anyone else for next week or just do the rounds herself as you’ve seen James do it alone for two weeks too when his assigned partner had gone home for a family emergency.

“Is it really vital that you have to go?” You couldn’t help but ask.

"I already said yes." James offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can go on a date the week after.” There was a pause and then, “Actually that’ll probably have to wait for the week after that.”

'Imagine having to schedule a simple date, three to four weeks in advance and even then not being guaranteed that nothing would come in between,' you sighed.

You shrugged, a sudden wave of defeat and exhaustion crashing over you. Why did you have to compete for your boyfriend in the first place? 'How tiring', you realized.

You waved him away. “It can’t be helped, I guess,” you somewhat coldly told him, and turned back to the student next to you who was awkwardly looking away. James stood next to you in silence for a moment, still looking at you. You looked up at the lack of the sound of receding footsteps and looked at him questioningly, waving your hand in a ‘what is it?’ manner.

“I can tell her no,” James said, something that looked like a pout on his face. He hated making you feel bad, despite constantly but unconsciously doing it.

“You don’t want to tell her no,” you retorted.

"I would for you.”

“Well, considering that you haven’t told her no by now and are instead here telling me that we have to rearrange our plans, I think you should just go help Lily with rounds.”

James was taken aback by your bitter tone, eyes immediately wide, alarmed that you were really affected by his decision. “Love, I-“

You waved your hand again. “No, I’m sorry,” you apologized before he could. You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted manner. Jealousy was not a good look, you reminded yourself again. “Just really looked forward to that picnic with just you and me.”

“We’ll still have that picnic another time though,” James tried to assure you, but you were no longer looking at him. He realized that the conversation was over and that you wanted to be left alone right now.

“I love you,” James tried one last time and you sighed. " I love you more.” Your words resonated even after James left, knowing that they might be more true than you wanted to admit. You cleared your throat and when you faced the girl next to you, she shot you a sympathetic look.

The last drop was during Potions class. Potions was something you were good at. Maybe not better than Severus Snape, but you did excel in it.

So, if there was one class in which you expected James to want to be your partner, it was Potions class. Perhaps it was arrogant of you to assume such a thing, because when Professor Slughorn had announced that everyone would be paired up, and asked James who he wanted to partner up with, you hadn't expected him to glance at Lily first, which resulted in Professor Slughorn pairing the two together before James could say your name, which in his defense, was what he was planning on saying.

Without sparing you a glace, he left your table to take the seat next to Lily's. Sure, it was mostly a miscommunication issue on Slughorn's part, but did James have to skip over so happily?

“Love you so much, Lily.”

The words repeated in your head when you saw him look at her so fondly and before you could stop yourself, you scribbled a message on a piece of paper, in which you asked him to meet you in the tower, before sending it his way.

You had clung onto James because you were absolutely in love with him and refused to lose him. But it really was a futile battle, you would never compare to her. His first crush, first love, first kiss if you count that one time during ‘spin the bottle’ and his first heartbreak. You’ll always be second, even if he genuinely loves you.

James snapped his head up at you from his attempted conversation with Lily when he got your note, suddenly remembering you, but you were laughing, engrossed in a conversation with a flustered Peter who had almost set the two of you on fire by adding the wrong ingredient. When you left class, you saw James and Lily still talking while calmly packing up.

James entered the tower, holding the note that you had passed him during class. He was smiling cheekily and quickly skipped over, arms ready to wrap around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, no doubt thinking you asked him to sneak away for a snog.

“We need to talk,” you stopped him, and his grin fell from his face, a serious expression now adorning it. “Everything alright love?” he asked, an odd feeling growing inside of him at your tone. He was suddenly rather unsure if he really wanted to.

'Nothing better than to rip the band aid off', you thought.

“I want to break up.”

There was a long moment of silence while James was registering your words, repeating them in his head over and over again to see if there was any chance that he could have interpreted that incorrectly.

“What?” He eventually said out loud in disbelief. Though he wanted to step forward, reach for you and hold you tightly as if to show that he wouldn’t let you go, his body was inwilling to move.

“Why are y-, I thought we were good?” The crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your heart ached for him, but you were determined to stay strong and say your piece for once. To voice your thoughts and go through with tough decisions that you knew would be for the better.

“We’re not, James,” you sighed. “I know that you know that.”

James shook his head in denial. “No, I don’t know that,” he insisted. His brain was racking through all the instances where he did something wrong and - with the exception of next Friday's date - came up blank.

“But you love me,” he stated, mostly to himself, but it came out more of a question. “Of course,” you confirmed without hesitation.

James’ body finally unfroze, and he surged forward, his hands fumbled to hold your hands. “And I love you,” he stressed, panic starting to rise up. “I love you so much, I’ll take a Veritaserum potion if you want. I just, why would you-, I don’t understand the problem-,”

“I know you love me, James. The problem is that I love you so much more,” you calmly interrupted him. James’ eyes scanned your face to look for answers because none of it maded sense to him.

“I want someone who loves me as much as I love him. Someone who gives me all his love, not just a part that he managed to set apart for me too. And I want to be loved first. Not second. I don't want to be a consolation prize because your first option didn't work out.”

James’ eyes flickered in realization, but his head was still shaking in denial. “I am that someone,” he urged, trying to convince you. He shot you a pleading look. “I love you first, I swear.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and you pulled it away from his grasp.

“Not first,” you shook your head sadly. “Not when you call for Lily in your sleep, and whisper that you love her.” You watch as James’ frown deepened, mixed expressions crossing his face in surprise, confusion and even bewilderment.

Would he not even admit it?

“Not when you have us rearrange our plans for her, when you draw portraits of her during class, or when you practically jump to be her potions partner. I'm not stupid, James. I see the way you look at her.” You continued to list off the things that happened just this past week, not even bothering to mention all the things that bothered you the past months. Your eyes looked sad and tired, and you took another deep breath. “So, I want to break up.”

James felt like crying, his mind thinking back to everything you said, and knowing that you were right. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m an absolute twat, I know that. I promise you I don’t love Lily, she’s just still very important to me.” You offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I know she’s important to you, I just think that maybe you don’t know what or who you want. And I won’t share my boyfriend anymore, I’m selfish like that,” You joked halfheartedly. James didn’t react, save for wrapping his arms around you. You allowed James to embrace you and he buried his head in your hair, his eyes closed as if he wanted to go to sleep and forget this was happening.

“Okay,” James whispered. What else was he supposed to say?

You closed yours as well. James would get over you in no time, you were certain. You two hadn’t been dating for that long, and perhaps James could find a happy ending in Lily after all.

James had sort of avoided you after that. You thought he was doing it because he was angry, but in reality, he was just scared that he would burst into tears the moment he saw you, and he refused to watch you laugh happily, swatting your friend while he wanted nothing more than to hold your hand again.

His mind had completely become occupied by you and he stayed in bed over the weekend, mostly wallowing in self-pity and misery.

When Monday started, he had skipped all classes and only dragged himself out of bed for Quidditch practice and patrol with Lily. Walking next to her in silence, occasionally glancing at her, he felt his stomach sink again. How ironic that when he looked at Lily, all he could think about was you.

James walked through the corridor on Friday, on his way to the courtyard to meet up with Lily again to do rounds with her. He hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully without you. At first, he had been thinking about every instance where he prioritized Lily over you, and it had him curse himself out in his pillow. He missed you. It was so ridiculous, but he missed you to the point that he would curl up in bed with a stomach ache.

He had finally drifted off when at some point in the middle of the night, he had been shaken awake by Sirius.

“What?” James had asked, his throat dry and raspy. He’d looked around, disoriented.

“Thought you were having a nightmare Prongs. You kept mumbling her name. How much you loved her,” Sirius had handed James a glass of water.

James became wide awake and sat up straight in panic. “Lily?” He had asked Sirius, his stomach turning with nausea. He still couldn’t believe that he really talked about Lily in his sleep when you were lying next to him.

“What? No, Y/N’s name of course.” Sirius had corrected him. 'Of course,' James shook his head at Sirius’ words. “Figured you were reliving your breakup,” Sirius had explained.

James was looking through the passing windows of the castle where he could see the lake in the far distance. Suddenly something in his brain clicked. What in Godrick's name was he doing, avoiding you? Why was he giving up on you without a fight? You both loved each other; he was just the idiot who couldn’t sort himself out. But it didn’t take him longer than a terrible week to open his eyes.

James’ pace increased and he ran through the corridor. “No running in the corridors young man,” a portrait commented, but he paid it no mind.

Lily was already waiting for him and raised her eyebrows at his disheveled state and the basket that he was carrying. “I can’t do rounds with you today,” he puffed out. “I told Y/N that I would take her out for a picnic and then you asked me if I could help, and I agreed, but it’s so stupid because I should be-, I am choosing her,” James ranted. “I’m not letting you come first, or even second.”

Lily wasn’t really sure what James was rambling on about but gave him a kind smile, nonetheless. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she encouraged him. “Sounds to me like you shouldn’t be here, but somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I definitely should.”

You sat by the lake, skipping stones from a sitting position, not that you were having any luck. You hadn't seen James in a while because he avoided you, and you felt sadness wash over you. You were sure that he would get over you quick enough, but you wondered how long would it take for you to get over him?

You heard rustling behind you but kept facing forward. It was only when a delicious smell reached you, that you turned around, slightly annoyed that someone would really choose this spot to have an afternoon meal at when they could’ve sat literally anywhere else near the lake, as well as choose this moment when you wanted to act like a depressed main protagonist gazing in the distance.

You were, however, not prepared to see James stand behind you, out of breath and making his way over to you, a blanket and food spread out behind him. He didn’t really need to say anything. You understood from the way he showed up here, a hopeful expression on his face.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you got up, dusting yourself off.

"Hi," James breathed. An unsure smile formed on his face when you waved back. "I uh, I brought food." He awkwardly motioned to the picnic behind him and you couldn't help but smile at his adorableness.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else,” you couldn’t help but lightheartedly remark. James let out an airy chuckle, immediately relaxing at your open demeanor.

“100% sure I’m where I should be,” he affirmed. He considered his words and corrected himself. "Where I want to be."

His words had you take off in a sprint towards him and James opened his arms to catch you when you jumped, locking your legs around him. Ironically enough, it felt as if a weight had fallen off of James. His head fell against your shoulder and he shakily laughed while your blouse stained with tears of relief.

"I'm really sorry," he looked up at you, still holding you steadily. You leaned down to press your forehead against his, and your hands came up to his cheeks. "You made up your mind," you said, but it came out like a question, and James nodded hastily.

"And you'll make it up to me."

"Of course," he earnestly replied. "I want us. I'll fight for us." You closed the gap between the two of you.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips.

Not first or second, not more, most or less. He just loves you.

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @shrekscrustybudassy @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @wolfmoonmusic

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 8

"I cannot believe you told my wife your date was with *Lena Luthor*," Alex whispers mid-yell, "before you told me!"

"Would it have changed your recommendation?"

At that, Kara hears Alex pause to consider.

"No," comes the final response. Then, "Did it work?"

Kara flushes-- she'd certainly gotten the reaction she'd been looking for. She just isn't sure she wants her sister to know that they hadn't fully resolved that desire.

"Well enough," Kara returns, settling on an incomplete truth. She'd explain the rest later... eventually.

A muttered curse issues over the line. "Jesus. How did this even happen? Wait-- what happens now? Esme said her next show is in, like... 16 hours, in Denver."

Kara smiles into the phone. "We stay in touch."

She's already received a picture via text, showing Lena with a tongue-out wink and a playful peace sign. Another photo had revealed a sticky bun, with a note that Lena had gotten Jess to swing by Noonan's on the way to the airport.

Though the sight of the sticky bun had made her hungry, the selfie made her pause to absorb the image. From the relaxed tousle of Lena's wavy hair, to the ray-bans hooked on the collar of her shirt, and the luxury of the private plane lurking around the edges.... she wonders if Lena realizes just how far she's letting Kara in, allowing her to see Lena in so personal a setting.

Kara's response had been simple. "Fly safe."

It had earned her a floating heart emoji and a promise to touch base upon landing.

"That's it?" Alex asks, pulling Kara back to the present.

Kara huffs a laugh. "What did you expect? She wasn't going to cancel half a national tour for personal time with someone she only met two days ago."

"Well why not? You're worth it."

"You're only saying that because you're my sister," Kara counters. "Besides, I don't want that for her."

Seeing Lena on stage had proven it's something the woman enjoyed. She thrived on the experience of it, and so did the thousands of fans who came to see her.

Which is why, a few hours after Lena's first Denver show would have concluded, Kara is surprised to receive a call from Lena. They'd facetimed when she'd landed, so the lack of video is her first clue that something isn't right.

"Hey," Kara greets, pressing the phone to her ear as she wipes sleep from her eyes. She'd meant to stay awake to check in herself, but not even a book had been able to keep her from dozing off.

"Hey."

Lena's voice is somber. It's such a difference that a wave of concern wakes Kara the rest of the way.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

There's a short pause before Lena responds. "Nothing."

"How was the show?"

"Fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be calling so late. I just... I wanted to hear your voice." Lena pauses again. "Is that weird?"

"No." Kara listens closely to the quiet that follows, as though it might give her some insight into what was happening on the other end of the line. "Lena..."

"Could you... talk to me?"

"About what?"

"Anything. Just... so I can listen."

Kara's brow furrows. She fights the impulse to dig deeper, to push to find the why. She doesn't need to know. Lena has asked for what she needs-- and it's something Kara is able and willing to give.

"Did I ever tell you that I didn't always live in National City?"

Lena hums a negative, prompting Kara to continue.

"I'm actually from a town up the coast. Midvale. I miss it sometimes. The stars mostly. In high school, I had friend named Kenny, and we would take his telescope to the old barn, and we would chart the skies together..."

Kara goes on, relating many and more of the troubles she and Kenny had gotten up to in those days. She was careful to steer clear of his murder, and the bullying they'd both experienced. Lena needed distraction, not more heartache.

As she speaks, Lena hums occasionally, sometimes even giving a chuckle. When the sounds of her following along peters out, Kara pauses to listen if Lena notices the stop. When no reaction comes, Kara smiles to herself.

"Lena?" she asks softly. "Still there?"

No answer comes, but when Kara increases the volume on her phone, she can hear the steady inhale and exhale of sleep. Kara listens for a few heartbeats more.

"Sweet dreams, Lena."

[captain-hawks]

somewhere only we know

— manjiro sano x f!reader

summary — Even months spent apart can't stop the way your body instinctually reacts to Mikey's proximity, his touch. The way his mouth fits against yours. Especially not when he slips into your house unannounced in the middle of the night.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.2k

content — established relationship, getting back together, angst, feels, smut, fingering, mentions of oral sex, oral fixation, finger sucking, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie

set in an undefined bad!future timeline, circa 2018

You’re traipsing on the precipice of sleep when you smell it—wisps of cold, autumn air, clinging brightly to a distinct, heady mix of bergamot and sage that immediately sets your pulse racing. Despite the silence that hangs heavily over the house in the late hour, you’re well aware of who has silently slipped in well before the mattress gently dips beside you. 

Mikey slides under the tangle of covers with a practiced ease, body curling around yours with a familiarity that makes your chest ache, the steady beating of his heart a reassuring caress against your shoulder blade. His breath is hot against the nape of your neck, a stark contrast to the touch of his chilled skin as he drags his nose along the soft edges of your hairline. 

His calloused fingers are careful as they drift down your forearm, his thumb catching against the inside of your elbow before his hand comes to rest in a loose grip on your hip. Your body goes pliant in his embrace, nerves and limbs reacting on muscle memory alone. You can feel him toying with the small hole in the hem of the shirt you sleep in more often than not—his shirt—his pointer finger skirting the waistband of your underwear in the process. 

“Mikey,” you whisper, vocal chords straining as you say his name out loud for the first time in months. 

You try to suppress the full-body shudder that threatens to wrack through you when he buries his face in the curve between your shoulder and your neck, his hair tickling your cheek. It’s an effort to suppress the urge to reach back and card your fingers through the silken strands. He exhales heavily, dragging his thumb over your hip bone once, twice, three times. 

“Manjiro.”

He pauses at that, finger left hovering in the air, though the ghost of his touch remains. 

(It always has.)

Closing your eyes, you murmur, “You said this was a bad idea.”

You can feel him nod slowly against you.

“You said we had to stop,” you continue, your throat tight as you try to force the words out. The hollow space inside of you quivers at the memory of that night. 

“I know,” he finally speaks aloud in a quiet tone, and your resolve nearly crumples on the spot at the sound of his voice.

“Then why—”

“Please,” he interrupts, his voice breaking on the single syllable, fingers beginning to tremble against you.

“Mikey, what happened?” you ask, chest constricting under the weight of a question you’re not sure you want an answer to. 

There’s a damp feeling where his face is pressed against your skin, and he shudders. “I don’t…I can’t…,” he fumbles for the right words. “I just—”

You should tell him to leave.

You should save yourself the inevitable heartache.

You should remind him of every single reason why he told you he was no good for you in the first place.

But you can’t lie to yourself. 

Not when you sleep in this ratty old shirt every night.

Not when you’ve yet to move the spare key to a new hiding place, one that he no longer knows.

Not when every nerve ending in your body traitorously hums to life at his proximity now.

Not when you know he’ll leave without another word if you really want him to, regardless of the pain his words are doused with.

“This is the only place I feel like I can breathe,” he murmurs, catching your ankle with one of his own. 

“Here?” you ask, surprised by his admission. 

His lips trace his next words against your shoulder. “With you.”

You turn your head, and Mikey lifts his own, staring down at you in the darkness with his lips slightly parted, eyes searching yours. He must see something in your face as you gaze up at him, unable to hide your reaction to his admission, because the corners of his lips fall downward in a frown.

“This is selfish of me,” he sighs in defeat, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

Reaching upward, your fingers skirt the curve of his jaw, your thumb nudging his chin to face you once more. “What did I tell you before, Manjiro?”

–

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this—happiness.”

“Why the hell do you think that?”

“Because I’m not a good person. Because it’s selfish of me to think I can live the life I lead and drag you down with me.”

“Don’t I get any say in this?”

“Your opinion of me can’t change the things I’ve done.”

“Just be selfish with me, Manjiro.”

–

“I can’t,” he chokes out, your breath hitching at the feel of his palm brushing against your wrist as he covers your hand with his before letting his forehead fall against your own. 

Heart racing in your chest, you whisper, “Why not?”

He lets out a strangled sound, tightening his grip on your hand. “Why aren’t you telling me to leave?”

You shift your face ever so slightly, brushing your nose against his. “Because this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe since you left.”

His mouth is so close that the warmth of each breath that he exhales curls around the edges of your lips, a phantom of a kiss that leaves you dangerously dizzy in its wake. 

“And it’s not selfish if I want it, too,” you whisper.

You can feel the tangible shift in the air as the last fragments of Mikey’s resolve crumble to dust, his sharp intake of air the only warning before his lips come crashing into yours. 

Heat blooms in your chest, a small, muffled sound passing through your lips. There’s nothing hesitant about it—the way Mikey claims your mouth with his own. The curve and press of his lips as they warmly slot against yours silently say the rest, more words neither of you has the patience for right now. 

Not when he’s curled against you, one hand caressing the side of your neck as he licks his way into your mouth, a pleased hum vibrating in his throat as you softly moan for him when he deepens the kiss. His thumb scrapes along the underside of your chin, and you open further for him, your body arching as his tongue wraps around yours. 

Your neck aches from the position, Mikey’s chest still pressed against your back. But any thoughts of rolling over to face him fly swiftly out the window when he responds in kind to the way you just moved against him, a low groan tumbling from his lips as he rolls his hips into your backside. His sweatpants do little to hide his stiff erection, and your mouth waters at the way his cock drags heavily between your ass cheeks as he grinds against you. 

Mikey groans into your mouth when you pointedly rub your ass against his cock, urging him to continue. The kiss grows wet and messy, your lips swollen and spit-soaked as he begins to roughly rut into you. 

“Are you wet for me?” he implores softly.

Your panties are already well on their way to being soaked by the gush of arousal steadily leaking out of you, cunt quivering with anticipation at the thought of being filled by the thick length pressing against you.

“Why don’t you find out?” you tease, though it’s a battle to get the words out without moaning when he slips a hand under your shirt and palms your supple breasts. 

Unable to keep your neck twisted in his direction any longer, you lay your cheek back down against the pillow, keening at the way he immediately begins to kiss his way along the hinge of your jaw. Mikey hums as he drags his lips down the side of your neck, stopping to suck at the sensitive skin there, rolling it between his teeth until it’s tender. 

“Do you think I need this?” he asks, abandoning your breasts to slide his middle finger along your bottom lip in question.

He doesn’t need you to suck on his fingers, coating them in spit before he eases you open.

He definitely doesn’t need to, not when a load of sticky arousal has begun to leak out of your panties, coating the inside of your thighs.

Not when his entire thick, throbbing cock could plunge straight into your slick cunt without an ounce of resistance.

But it’s hard to focus when he’s pulling down on your kiss-swollen bottom lip with the tip of one of his slender fingers, harder still when your tongue darts out to lick it, and he slides it into the warmth of your mouth, adding another a moment later. Mikey moans appreciatively at the way you begin to shamelessly suck on his fingers, drool pooling on your tongue as you continue to grind your ass into his throbbing erection. 

When he finally pulls away, you mourn the loss, but your mouth is then quickly occupied by a choking gasp of pleasure when Mikey’s hand snakes its way into your panties, fingers sliding through your puffy, slick folds with ease.

“Oh fuck,” Mikey groans, hotly kissing the nape of your neck. 

All you can do is loudly moan in response when he slips two fingers into your cunt, your soaking wet walls greedily clenching down on the sensation. 

“Mikey,” you keen, saliva dripping onto your pillow as your mouth remains open, body alight with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with lust as he starts to fuck you with his fingers.

And if this were a normal night between the two of you, you know he’d bring you over the edge like this, one hand teasing your sensitive, pert nipples until your wet cunt is gushing all over the fingers of the other. 

He’d tug you up onto your knees afterward, fingers digging into your ass and tongue sloppily lapping at your pussy till you’re nearly sobbing, his voice steady as he urges you to come for him one more time before he fucks you. (And you nearly come now from the thought of that alone—the pleased way he’d rasp, “Good girl,” right after you squirt all over his face.)

But you’re trembling with desperation right now, body aching with a need that hasn’t been sated in months. And you know he is, too. You can feel it in the thinly veiled restraint behind each of his movements.

“Need you inside of me,” you whine.

Mikey’s quick to oblige, the sheets rustling with movement as he kicks off his pants and boxers, one finger hooking in your panties as he tugs them aside, and you relish in the way the lacy material presses firmly into your skin. 

And then Mikey’s entire body is flush with yours as he finally sinks his thick cock into your dripping cunt with one stroke, a white-hot wave of pleasure washing over your body as your tight walls stretch wide to accommodate his girth. 

“Missed you so goddamn much,” he chokes out, groaning deeply when he bottoms out inside of you.

He grasps your hip with one hand as he slowly pulls out, the fingers of his other returning to your tits, groping them while they bounce as he roughly snaps his hips and plunges back into you. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out, caught between the desire to savor the slow push and drag of his slick shaft and the need to be fucked senseless into the mattress. 

Mikey’s torn, too, if his inconsistent rhythm is anything to go by. He alternates between massaging your inner walls with deep thrusts that make you writhe and relentlessly jackhammering into your slick hole, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans while you whimper and moan for him. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” he pants, tugging your shirt upward to drink in the sight of your jiggling breasts as his cock repeatedly disappears into the greedy warmth between your legs.

“Manjiro,” you pant when he pinches your nipple, whimpering and thrusting downward, urging him to fuck you even deeper.

Mikey’s answering moan is wrecked, the lust in his voice tangled in emotion as he gasps, “I love you.”

Every muscle in your body seizes up as a wildfire of pleasure erupts, the ache between your thighs boiling over into a searing, gushing sensation that leaves you trembling while Mikey fucks you through your orgasm, slamming inside of you to the hilt one last time.

A hot flood of cum fills your cunt as his cock pulses heavily inside of you, and Mikey’s arms wrap around your body tightly while your walls milk every last drop of his seed. Breathing heavily, neither of you goes to move, not even when his shaft begins to soften within your velvety grip.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest for months sliding off as Mikey laces your fingers together atop the pillow. Even more quietly, you ask, “Are you staying?”

Mikey’s silent for a moment, body going entirely still before he carefully replies, “Can I?”

You nod, and you can feel the smile that crosses his lips as he presses a soft, reverent kiss just below your ear before he lets out a long, shaky breath.

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[hiitsm]

Beneath the Surface: The Third Piece

Beneath the Surface is for 18+ only.

Angst & if you squint your eyes: Smut, is included in this Third Piece.

Note: a little bit earlier as expected. Work is heavy and I feel like tomorrow I'll be sleeping a lot 😅

-

Other parts of: Beneath the Surface: The Broken Heart Pieces

-

You find yourself in the bustling back of the restaurant, surrounded by the clatter of dishes and the rush of water as you diligently tackle the never-ending pile of plates. Despite the chaos, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort in the routine of it all. This small breakfast and lunch spot has been your second home for over three years now, a cozy haven where you've honed your skills as a waitress.

But lately, things have felt different.

Ever since that fateful day when you discovered the letter on your kitchen counter, everything has been tinged with a sense of unease. The possibility of encountering her hangs over you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over your once-beloved job.

You've made the difficult decision to retreat to the kitchen, away from the front-of-house hustle and bustle, in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the pain of potential encounters. It's a bittersweet compromise, trading the joy of serving customers for the safety of anonymity.

As you scrub at a stubborn stain on a plate, your thoughts drift to Alexia. You wonder if she'll ever walk through those doors again, if she'll ever reach out to you. A part of you longs for the chance to talk, to seek closure, to understand why she left without a word.

But another part of you recoils at the thought, wary of reopening old wounds and risking further heartache.

You've confided in a sympathetic colleague, asking them to alert you if Alexia ever stops by. It's a small comfort, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise tumultuous sea of emotions.

Yet, deep down, you know that even if she does come, you may not have the courage to face her. The pain is still too raw, the wounds too fresh.

In the midst of your internal turmoil, a sudden clatter shatters the silence, drawing your attention to the floor where a plate lies shattered, broken into jagged pieces.

You can't help but see a reflection of your own broken heart in those shards, scattered and fragmented, waiting to be carefully pieced back together.

As you crouch down to begin the painstaking task of gathering the shattered fragments, you're acutely aware of the parallel between the broken plate and the broken pieces of your heart.

There are still too many pieces scattered on the floor.

There are still too many pieces that you need to pick back up again.

There are still too many unresolved emotions that need to be addressed before you can muster the courage to speak to her again.

To see her again.

As you gaze at the shattered pieces on the floor, a wave of emotion washes over you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure.

The memories and pain of your broken heart bubble to the surface once more, tugging at the frayed edges of your resolve.

But you're determined not to let them consume you again, not now.

With a deep breath, you push aside the tumultuous thoughts and focus on the task at hand. The rhythmic clinking of dishes and the steady flow of water provide a comforting backdrop, offering a brief respite from the storm raging within.

As you stand there, lost in your thoughts, you're suddenly startled by a familiar voice breaking through the silence. It's Elena, your kind colleague, gently nudging you out of your reverie.

"Come on, rush hour is over now. We have 5 minutes for a quick cigarette," Elena says, her tone laced with concern.

Though you don't smoke, you find yourself following Elena outside, grateful for the distraction from your swirling emotions. As she lights up her cigarette and takes a drag, you let the cool air wash over you, trying to calm the storm raging within.

After a while, Elena speaks up again, her voice gentle yet hesitant. "She stopped by this morning," she confesses, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Your eyes widen at the unexpected revelation, your heart skipping a beat at the mention of her.

"Lo siento, it was very busy so I couldn’t come to you right away," Elena apologizes, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

You offer her a small, appreciative smile, though there's a tremor of emotion in your voice as you respond. "It's okay," you murmur softly, trying to mask the turmoil brewing within.

Elena continues, her hand finding its way to your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "She asked for you, and when I told her that you weren't here, she panicked and asked if you still work here."

"What did you say?" you ask quietly, your fingers fidgeting nervously.

"That you are working in the back now," Elena replies, her words causing a swirl of conflicting emotions to rise within you. "She looked relieved by the mention of you still working here."

Her words hit you like a wave, stirring up a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within you. Memories of Alexia flood your mind, her unwavering support and encouragement echoing in your ears.

You remember how she always admired your passion for your job, how she found joy in witnessing your dedication and determination. It was her unwavering belief in you that fueled your own confidence and drive.

"She didn’t leave right away. I think that she hoped to still get to see you, but after two hours she had to leave room for the people who had a reservation," Elena reveals softly, her words carrying a weight of understanding.

You absorb her words with a mixture of surprise and longing, the image of Alexia lingering in your mind like a ghost.

Two hours.

Two hours she spent waiting, perhaps hoping for a chance encounter, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos of this busy restaurant.

You can't help but feel a pang of regret at the thought of her lingering presence, her silent plea for reconciliation hanging heavy in the air.

Despite the ache in your chest, you can't deny the flicker of hope that ignites within you at the realization that she still yearns for you, even in the wake of your fractured relationship.

But along with hope comes a wave of uncertainty, a gnawing fear that lingers at the edges of your consciousness.

Will you ever find the courage to face her again, to bridge the chasm that separates you?

As you stand there, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions swirling within, you can't help but wonder what lies ahead.

Will you continue to retreat into the safety of solitude, shielding yourself from the pain of potential encounters?

Or will you muster the strength to confront the ghosts of your past, to seek the closure and healing you so desperately crave?

You don’t have a moment to process all your thoughts and emotions as your 5-minute break comes to an end, and you re-enter the bustling restaurant. With a grateful smile, you thank Elena for her support and the valuable information she shared, before diving back into the rhythm of your work.

A little while later, you find yourself trudging back towards your apartment, the chilly winter rain adding to the somber mood that has enveloped you lately. All you long for is the comforting warmth of a long, hot shower and the soothing routine of cooking a home-cooked meal to momentarily escape the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

Finally reaching your apartment door, you step inside and flick on the lights, only to be met with silence and darkness. With a heavy sigh, you realize that your lights have once again decided to call it quits, adding another item to your ever-growing to-do list.

Undeterred by the lack of illumination, you navigate your way through the dimly lit apartment, shedding your coat and shoes with a sense of resignation. All you want now is a hot shower and a comforting meal to soothe your troubled mind.

However, fate seems to have other plans for you tonight. As you try to switch on the electric plate to cook some rice, you're met with yet another setback. No electricity. With a frustrated groan, you realize that your plans for a home-cooked meal may have to be postponed.

Deciding to prioritize a hot shower to wash away the stresses of the day, you make your way to the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you go. But to your dismay, the water remains stubbornly cold, refusing to provide the warmth and comfort you so desperately crave.

Despite the lack of electricity and hot water, you push through, forcing yourself to endure the chilly shower in an attempt to at least feel somewhat refreshed.

Afterward, feeling slightly defeated, you seek out your neighbor for any insight or assistance, but his response offers little comfort, leaving you feeling even more disheartened.

Returning to your apartment, you settle for a meager meal of crackers, the taste of frustration lingering on your tongue. But amidst the frustration and disappointment, a faint chuckle escapes your lips as you recall a similar situation from the past.

-

Alexia stormed into your apartment, looking utterly drenched from head to toe. The sight of her, soaked to the bone, took you by surprise. You had been cooking, the sound of the heavy rain outside barely registering as you assumed she was safely in her car.

"Did you walk all the way from the training ground?" you ask, bewildered by her appearance. Despite her obvious discomfort, Alexia bursts into laughter at your incredulous expression.

"Why would I walk for 30 minutes when I have a sponsored car, bebé?" she replies with a mischievous grin, shrugging off her oversized coat and kicking off her waterlogged shoes. Despite being drenched, there's an undeniable allure to her appearance, and you can't help but admire her.

As she stood before you, her clothes clinging to her frame in a way that you couldn't help but find appealing, a playful glint danced in her eyes.

"It's just that you don’t have any parking space here, so to me, it felt like a 30-minute trek if I'm being honest," she explained, her words accompanied by an exaggerated sigh as she dramatically approached you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your attempt to maintain a stern facade. "Don't be dramatic," you chided gently, pointing an accusing finger in her direction with the cooking spatula still in hand. "Put on a raincoat next time, or maybe bring an umbrella."

"Bring an umbrella, bebé? I thought you would've come to my car with an umbrella to pick me up and keep me dry," Alexia retorted, her grin growing even wider as she teased you.

With a mock-serious expression, you countered, "Do you want to sleep on the balcony?" but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

"You wouldn't dare do that to me. How else would you get any sleep?" Alexia shot back, her playful banter bringing a lightness to the air between you.

"Alright, let's drop this and finally give me a hello kiss," you playfully insisted, a warm smile gracing your lips as you met Alexia's eyes.

Without hesitation, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, drawing you close as your arms found their way around her neck. With a gentle touch, your lips met in a soft, tender kiss, the world around you fading away in that moment of sweet connection.

As she pulled away, a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Hello, bebé," she greeted you cheekily.

You playfully pushed her away, a chuckle escaping your lips. "You should have a shower while I finish up dinner," you suggested, gesturing towards the bathroom.

A hint of disappointment flashed across Alexia's features as she pouted, "Are you not joining me?"

With a gentle smile, you planted a quick apology kiss on her cheek before gently pushing her towards the bathroom. "And let this dinner burn down the apartment? I don't think so, amor," you quipped, the warmth of your love filling the room as you continued to banter back and forth.

She finally gives in and heads off to have her shower while you busy yourself with finishing up dinner. The sound of running water from the shower fills the apartment, its rhythmic patter bringing a sense of calm to the air. You move about the kitchen, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the looming darkness.

But then, without warning, the electricity cuts out, plunging the apartment into darkness. All of your lights flicker off, leaving you standing in the dim glow of the candles you had just lit. You let out a frustrated sigh, hoping it's just a temporary glitch that will be resolved soon.

Quickly, you make your way around the apartment, lighting up candles in every room. Their soft, flickering light casts dancing shadows on the walls, creating a cozy ambiance that contrasts sharply with the earlier chaos.

As you finish lighting the last candle, you're startled by a sudden squeak and a squeal coming from the bathroom. Your heart skips a beat as you hurry towards the source of the noise, your mind racing with worry.

"¿Bebita, estás bien?" you inquire as you step into the bathroom with a rather big flashlight, which you put on the bathroom sink, concern etched across your features. "You're not playing a prank on me, are you?" you add, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Your girlfriend turns to look at you, her expression more annoyed than amused, in the midst of washing her hair.

Despite her irritated figure, you can't help but be distracted by the sight of her naked body, water droplets cascading down her gorgeous form.

Your eyes linger on her breasts, noticing the way her nipples stand erect against the chill of the water. You're tempted to reach out and play with them, but before you can, she grabs both of your wrists.

"No, bebita, my face is up here," she says, pulling your hands towards her cheeks and planting a playful smack on them. Despite her irritation, there's a hint of amusement in her eyes at your flustered reaction.

"Did you turn off the boiler to make my shower ice-cold? And where is the light?" she asks, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

"No, amor, I would never," you protest, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I know how much you love your hot showers."

"Then why is the water still freezing?" she questions, her grip on your wrist tightening slightly as she pointed with her head towards the tap.

"I think there might be an electricity and hot water failure in my apartment," you admit apologetically, your cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Well, that's just perfect," she grumbles, pouting slightly before her expression brightens with mischief.

"Looks like we'll have to find another way to warm up."

You watch in surprise as she tugs you into the cold shower with her, your clothes clinging to your skin as icy water cascades over you both.

"Alexia!" you exclaim, a mixture of shock and laughter in your voice as you brace yourself against the ice-cold water.

-

As the days passed, the recurring electricity and hot water failures in your apartment weighed heavily on your mind. Each morning, you woke up feeling drained and disheartened, the constant discomfort of cold showers and cold meals taking its toll on your well-being. Despite your best efforts to adapt to the situation, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of frustration and longing for something better.

Night after night, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find solace in sleep. You were feeling cold and the memories of your breakup with her still haunted your thoughts, replaying over and over like a broken record. With your friends away on holiday, you found yourself feeling more isolated than ever, longing for the comfort and support they usually provided.

In the midst of your turmoil, you couldn't help but think of Alexia's mother, Eli. She had always been a source of warmth and understanding, besides Alexia, her keen intuition often sensing when something was amiss. You remembered the countless times she had offered you a sympathetic ear and a comforting embrace, her unwavering support helping you navigate the challenges life threw your way.

This is why you found yourself trudging down the familiar path towards Eli's house, a small duffle bag slung over your shoulder. It was already 10 pm, and exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders, your weary steps echoing in the quiet night. You hoped fervently that Eli wasn't hosting one of her infamous family dinners tonight, where Alexia and Alba would undoubtedly be in attendance.

You were still in the midst of your self-imposed phase of avoiding Alexia, determined to keep your distance for a little while longer. The thought of facing her, of confronting the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between you, filled you with a sense of apprehension and unease.

As you finally reached Eli's doorstep, you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath in and then exhaling slowly. With a flicker of nervous anticipation, you reached out and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the quiet night air.

You hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching, and moments later, the front door swings open, revealing Eli standing there in her comfortable sweats. A bright smile lights up her face as she takes in your presence.

"Oh, hi, dear! I've missed you! Come in!" Her initial excitement quickly gives way to concern as she notices your tired demeanor. "Did you walk all the way? You could've called me," she frets, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.

Her genuine concern washes over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had been building within you. With a grateful nod, you step into the warmth of her familiar home, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. "Do you want some tea?" she offers, her voice filled with warmth and kindness.

You return her warm smile with one of your own, appreciating her thoughtfulness. "Yes, please," you reply softly, the weariness evident in your voice.

As you peel off your coat and shoes, you're grateful for Eli's unspoken understanding, knowing that she'll be there to lend a listening ear when you're ready to talk. For now, the simple act of being in her presence brings you a sense of solace and reassurance.

"Lo siento for coming here so late and unannounced," you confess softly, your voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. You sink into the plush cushions of the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. "My apartment has been experiencing this electricity and hot water failure for a couple of days now, and I've reached my breaking point. I didn't know where else to go."

Eli's gentle smile reassures you as she enters the room, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. "It's really no problem, dear. I'm glad you came to me," she says warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table before taking a seat beside you.

"I know Alexia is away at that event, so it's good that you came here. You can sleep in the spare room and have a nice shower if you want."

Her words offer a lifeline of comfort in the midst of your turmoil, but beneath the surface, questions gnaw at your mind. You force yourself to push them aside, not wanting to burden Eli with your inner struggles. Instead, you focus on the warmth of her presence and the soothing aroma of the tea.

As you glance around the room, your gaze lands on the framed photos of you and Alexia displayed prominently on the walls. Despite the bittersweet memories they evoke, you can't help but feel a pang of confusion at the sight. Eli has always supported your relationship with Alexia, but seeing the photos still hanging up feels like a contradiction in the wake of your breakup.

Eli noticed your gaze drifting towards the framed photos adorning the walls of her cozy living room. "Oh, I need new ones, those are so old," she remarked casually, her tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Her words caught you off guard, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. It was a simple comment, but it left you feeling unsettled and confused.

Did Alexia not talk to her mother about the breakup?

Why were the photos still displayed so prominently, as if frozen in time?

The pain of the breakup resurfaced with renewed intensity, threatening to overwhelm you. You blinked back tears, struggling to maintain your composure in the face of Eli's well-meaning words.

Despite the flood of emotions threatening to consume you, you forced a tight smile and nodded in response. "Yeah, maybe it's time for some new memories," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eli's gentle gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing her features as she reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay, dear?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded again, though the gesture felt hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions. "I'll be fine," you assured her, your voice trembling slightly.

"It must've been tough," Eli continued, her tone gentle yet resolute. "Alexia told me the two of you had a bit of a break. But not in a negative way, in a positive way. Sometimes we all need a small little break, right? To find each other again."

Her words echoed in your mind, stirring up a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty.

Had Alexia truly confided in her mother about the break, painting it in such a positive light?

Or was this just another layer of deception, another mask hiding the truth?

The question hung heavy in the air as you mustered the courage to voice your own concerns.

"Do you think she will talk to me any time soon?" you asked, the words tumbling out with a boldness that surprised even you.

Eli's response was measured, her expression thoughtful as she considered your question. "Qué quieres decir?" she replied, her voice tinged with confusion.

"Alexia told me that the two of you are doing more than fine and that therapy helped a while ago. You both had just been a bit busy, which is why I didn't get to see the two of you much."

The revelation hit you like a blow to the chest, leaving you reeling with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and a glimmer of hope.

How could Alexia lie to her own mother about what had transpired between you?

Did she truly believe that everything would magically fall back into place, that lying about therapy would somehow mend the chasm that had formed between you?

Your eyes welled up with tears, a tumultuous mix of emotions threatening to spill over. In that moment, you couldn't distinguish between the tangled mess of feelings swirling within you—sadness, anger, confusion, hope—all blending together into a single overwhelming wave of emotion.

Eli, ever perceptive, noticed your distress, her expression softening with empathy and concern. "Lo siento, no quise ponerte triste," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into her comforting embrace, enveloping you in warmth and safety. In that moment, all the pent-up emotions that had been swirling inside you came pouring out, released in a torrent of tears and sobs.

As you calm down from the overwhelming flood of emotions, your head still resting on the comforting crook of Eli’s neck, you muster up the energy to speak. You feel a deep-seated need to unburden yourself, to share the weight of your feelings with someone you trust implicitly.

The urge to confide in Eli grows stronger with each passing moment.

After all, doesn't she deserve to know the truth?

What if she holds the key to helping her own daughter navigate through the complexities of her emotions?

Perhaps Eli possesses insights and wisdom that you couldn't offer Alexia, despite your best intentions.

Regrets and what-ifs swirl in your mind, each thought a testament to the depth of your emotions and the complexity of your situation. You can't help but wonder if things might have turned out differently if you had only reached out to Eli sooner, if you had allowed her to be a part of your journey from the start.

Before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out in a quiet whisper and between sobs.

"She needed space.’’

''I didn't know.''

''I don't understand.''

‘’She left me.’’

‘’She left me and told me through a letter’’.

‘’She left me with a letter."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your emotions, yet strangely liberating at the same time.

With each word spoken, it felt as though you were delicately piecing together one of the many shattered fragments of your broken heart.

Holding that small piece closely, you made a silent vow to yourself to safeguard it, ensuring it wouldn't slip from your grasp again.

It was a tender moment of reclaiming your truth, a step towards healing and self-discovery in the midst of emotional turmoil.

-

Note: as we dive deeper into the story, I'm considering switching up the perspective for the next piece. Should I continue with Reader's perspective, or would you be interested in exploring The Fourth Piece from Alexia's perspective?

Your opinion is valued and appreciated, so feel free to share your thoughts openly but remember to always express yourself kindly and respectfully.

[misdeliria]

ENCHANTED; Kento Nanami

I just know Kento would be such a lovely college boyfriend. But not at first.

You would fall for him at first sight and try to get his attention. You’re not anywhere near the top of the class, so you try to get him to help you study and pass the class, only for him to ignore your efforts and friend-zone you.

After that point, you decide to get over him—he’s not worth the heartache. Except, he totally is, and he argues you still need a tutor, and he has to see his intention to the end. And Kento is completely aware of your affection toward him, but believes he can wait out your feelings.

And you spend so much time together at the library that your study sessions don’t end until long after the sun sets. The professor might have more stuff for you to complete, so you take turns spending later evenings at each other’s places, working on assignments weeks ahead of their due date.

Kento is a very considerate host. He makes tea for you to share and pulls out his spare blankets when you show signs of drowsiness. He insists you sleep at his place since it’s already so late.

“Where will you sleep?” You ask him blearily as he guides you to his studio bed.

“I have the means to get comfortable on the floor.” You can’t tell, but Kento is smiling softly at how sleepy and disgruntled you are, and he covers his expression by adjusting his glasses over his nose.

In the absence of self-control, you grab his crew neck to hold him closer.

“Will you just sleep with me?” You sigh, exasperated.

Blood rushes to Kento’s ears and between his legs, but he plays it off with a chuckle.

“Are you confessing to me?”

Your face drops in horror, and you’re suddenly wide awake.

“No, I was just talking about sleeping. Just sleeping,” you quickly explain, releasing his sweater and stepping away. “We could both comfortably fit is all I’m saying.”

After you're both prepared to sleep, it only takes a little convincing for Kento to settle beside you in the full-sized bed. It elates you, but the reality of your relationship with him washes over you like ice water, and you tell yourself This is enough.

Surrounded by the coziness of bedsheets that overwhelm you with Kento's homely scent and body heat beckoning you to his side of the bed, you quickly fall asleep with your hand falling between your bodies—reaching for him.

Kento lies awake for a few hours after you, turning onto his side to keep an eye on you. Every hitch in your soft breath, every subtle twitch in your sleep, makes him want to pull you into him, keeping you comfortable and warm—but he keeps to his side of the bed. He eyes your dainty fingertips, coaxing him to take them in his.

He rations with himself; he doesn't have time for a relationship, he can't dote on you how you deserve. It would be better for both you and him to stay friends.

But do friends do this? Sleep in each other's bed? Spend late nights together under the guise of studying?

What if..?

The thought dissipates when you release a soft groan and scoot closer to him. The innocent gesture makes Kento smile and reconsider his thoughts until he falls asleep with you in his arms.

The following day, he wakes up naturally. The sunlight peeking into his studio excites him for the new day, and he subconsciously reaches for you. His arm falls disappointedly through cold air into warm, empty sheets.

You already left his apartment.

@sarahlovesseb i love you girl

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Older Favorites 8: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week we have the eighth edition of older favourite fics, check under the cut for 19 fics that were uploaded or last updated more than two years ago! Don't forget to comment and kudos if you enjoy them

when will these two wizards kiss already by allmadeofstardust (13590, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A series of canon divergent episodes, exploring potential first kisses the wizards might've had in the final episodes of C2.

Reccer says: Back when C2 was finishing up, I always looked forward to this series updating XD it was a really fun way to feed the beast that spent every one of those last episodes waiting for a Shadowgast kiss to happen. And the ending of the series is really lovely too.

Like 80/20 on the Kinsey Scale by jakia (2772, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Caleb sleeps with Essek and panics about his sexuality. A story about friendship and identity.

Reccer says: I liked it!

By the Light by MoonwalkingCrab (31993, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death

After not hearing from the Nein for months and assuming he had been forgotten, Essek receives a plea from the Nein to help save Caleb. Canon-Compliant until e88!

Reccer says: I Love love LOVE this fic. I came into the fandom right at the end of C2 and have read many really good pre-97 fics - This one is probably my absolute favorite. AMAZING Essek characterization, really nailed the loneliness at his core, I love the take and the headcanons! Also also, while this is absolutely a Shadowgast fic, this is also very much an Essek & The Nein fic. Every interaction is amazing, love the level of detail, adore the pacing, just a really good and soft and well rounded fic!!

in the times in between by jakia (8098, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: mention of miscarriage

While refining a spell, Caleb spends a few days accidentally visiting his parents over the course of a decade and a half. Essek helps the final time.

Reccer says: Kind and sweet, plus excellent mom behavior from Una at the end.

infinity in the palm of your hand by mousecookie (5752, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence

Alternate ending to e116 - The Mighty Nein find a rusted iron door in Aeor, as well as the fallen body of one Essek Thelyss.

Reccer says: Really well/solidly written, with an *amazing* twist that I did NOT see coming - Very good emotions, very good characterizations, just an all-round lovely read written during the fandom's 'When will Essek return from the war?' phase X3 Also also I just ADORE the title!

only code it knows is rote survival by Chrome (12637, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In a world where Trent makes it back to Eiselcross before the Nein do, Essek spends a night under the effects of the Feeblemind spell. Caleb undertakes a duty of care, and the Nein learn how Essek feels about them beneath everything.

Reccer says: Wonderful characters and lovely writing!

like coloured indigo inscribed with my name by KmacKatie (30648, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An exploration of tradition, culture, what is worth sacrificing in finding yourself and family.

Reccer says: I think about this fic a lot. The highs, the lows, the sweetness, the angst. It's existed in the back of my mind for so long that it's kind of hard to describe the particulars of why I love it; I just do. I love the snapshots into Essek and the Nein's lives; the moment in Chapter 4 when the wizards kiss stands out to me as an example of that. The heartache of Chapters 6 and 7 is so well done; the strings of unanswered texts (and Essek's deleted replies) at the end of 6 and "I can’t eat soup without thinking of you." in particular (ESPCIALLY the latter) have stuck with me for years. Essek showing up at Caleb's birthday party after everything... there are tears in my eyes as I am typing this. I just love all of it so much, but the angst in particular really left a mark. And I love the ending so much too. All of it is just iconic and wonderful. To end on a lighter note, shout-out to the remark about Deirta and kumquats, which surfaced in my psyche recently after being dormant in there for so long XD

a certain future by wristpockets (26997, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek keeps trying to outwit The Mighty Nein, and gets stuck in a time loop trying to do so. He's trying to befriend them now, trying to earn their trust, but that's only because it's his best option... right?

Reccer says: While the Shadowgast is a relatively minor aspect of the story, it's a great character study.

Echoes by MithrilWren (1759, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

“Essek finds himself... unsettled by Caleb's new telepathic powers.“

Reccer says: Shadowgast, but with some Somnovem interference! This fic is short, but it packs a punch! I still get a shiver down my spine thinking about the ending.

Somewhere Just for Us by bluebirdsongs (12835, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb takes Essek on a date to the version of the dance hall that lives on the Tower's 8th floor.

Reccer says: This is one of my all-time favorite Shadowgast fics, hands down. It is incredibly tender and sweet, with so many layers of emotion. The concept is brilliant and so well executed. I love Caleb introducing Essek to Zemnian cuisine and this fic is 100% the reason for it. And the flirting and the banter and the DANCING. There's a moment when they're dancing that made me yell in delight when I first read it back in 2021 and I still adore it. And the ending!!! Augh, it's all just so heartfelt. It deserves all the love in the world. (Also, it never fails to make me crave a preztel)

russet inconveniences by marleybone (7328, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek needs a roommate and finds one in Caleb Widogast.

Reccer says: You know a fic is good when you think you've submitting reccs and then you remember the title and immediately have to go pull it up to recc too XD this one is just so fun!!! Caleb is a menace of a roommate and I love that that never stops, even as Essek realizes he's got feelings. The tag "minor inconveniences to lovers" is fantastic XD

Unspoken Love by marsmystic (4187, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“ Caleb and Essek return to Aeor together. A relationship develops. Or was it already there?”

Reccer says: This fic sparks joy! Wizards being besties!! Essek and Caleb’s relationship is so sweet in this. It really highlights how the romantic aspects of it stem from their friendship, which is one of my favorite flavors of shadowgast.

The Mind and The Malady by SaltCore (38945, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

There is a remedy for his illness, of course. There is always a way to unwind magic, but there is always a price. The cost of Essek’s life, now that he’s contracted Hanahaki’s disease, can be paid two ways—one is higher than Essek can bear and the other, well. The other can only be paid by someone else.

Reccer says: Beautifully written and wonderful worldbuilding! Always a fav to reread!

some things time can't fix by Chrome (25930, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is arrested for treason. The Dynasty severs the daemons of prisoners before executing them so they can’t be reborn.

Reccer says: Daemon au! This fic made me feel so many emotions

Like a Steel Trap by kaeda (12519, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is very much into Caleb's keen mind.

Reccer says: Wizards loving wizards for wizardly reasons!

a mirror to the sky by renquise (7432, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek shows up on Caleb's doorstep in the bitter cold of winter and shows him something private

Reccer says: Self bondage fic my beloved! The tension between the two is so good!

To Mourn a Mischief by toneofjoy (81716, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It's an Ever After-inspired AU with magic, where Caleb is trapped with Ikithon but ends up wooing Essek. Follows the plot of Ever After but has some good twists and turns!

Reccer says: The writing gives that fairy-tale feel, and though it follows the plot of Ever After, it's different enough to be exciting. Also love the surprise guests near the end, and the Jester/Essek and Caleb/Beau friendships are so good!

The following two fics each received two recs:t

(your face in my hands is) everything good i need by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (25884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The last person Caleb Widogast, Professor of Modern History, expects to find as he walks in a random pub in a foreign city at the end of a long conference is Dr. Essek Thelyss, eminent Latinist and his sort-of intellectual crush.

Reccer 1 says: This is the first fic in my bookmarks and I've long since lost track of how many times I've reread it. So many moments have ingrained themselves in my memory; Caleb's hands on Essek's elbows when they first kiss. Their later spicy makeout getting interrupted by Essek getting a call. Caleb trying to pin Essek to his door the moment they get to his apartment for kisses and Essek having to get him to slowdown for a minute. Essek thinking Caleb looks like a god as they lay in bed together. "I want a clean break". Essek touching Caleb's new beard first thing when they reunite after Caleb's grown it. Their candelit video calls. I have to stop myself before I just list everything that happens because it's all SO GOOD. Essek Week 2021 produced some just magnificent fics and this is easily towards the top of that list. Reccer 2 says: The exquisite writing, the Demi Essek, the literal sleeping together, and the way their relationship evolves over time.

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome (17169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In which Essek uses Convergent Future to save the Nein in Aeor and has to take the journey out of Aeor with five levels of exhaustion.

Reccer 1 says: SUCH a classic, I distinctly remember reading this one on my laptop at the back of the forum room my study hall was in, right when it was posted. The physical toll of powerful magic is something I ALWAYS love to see explored, so this was already a success on that part. Add in 5+1, hurt/comfort, and Shadowgast tenderness and getting together? This fic still lives rent free in my head for a reason. Reccer 2 says: Such tenter feelings!

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring fics that include good/complicated mom Deirta. Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[krirebr]

I Can't Sleep, Cause My Bed's On Fire

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Dark!Female Reader x Dark!Steve Rogers, established Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, past Ransom Drysdale x Steve Rogers

Word Count: ~3.3k

Summary: In Germany, you and Ransom run into someone from his past. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

Warnings: Horror elements, feeding off people, references to mind control, explicit language, group sex (mmf), light degradation, a little past (and present) heartache, a lot of smut- All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Ahahahaha! Oh god, what have I done????

A HUGE thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who let me flail all over her about this idea and read so, so much of it and talked me through the panic attack I always have when it's time to write smut.

Please come screech with me about this Steve. I'm so obsessed with him.

Ransom led you through the crowd by your hand. You lagged behind him as you tried to take in everything around you. People were dancing in cages, their eyes glossed over. There were humans laid out on tables as vampires fed on them. You saw no fewer than five couples fucking. This place was a wonderland. 

While you were still in France, Ransom had heard rumors of a vampires-only club in Germany, so now, after chasing down leads, you were in Berlin. You hadn’t known what to expect from Valkyrie, but this was more than you could have dreamed. No one was hiding here, pretending to be human, pretending to be weak. Here things were in their natural order. Here, even after only a few minutes, you really felt at the top of the food chain. Your fangs dropped in excitement and you let them stay. You were with your people now.

Ransom took you to the bar, pulling you in front of him and resting his chin on your shoulder. “What do you have on tap?” he yelled above the din to one of the bartenders. They placed a narrow menu in front of you, then moved on to help someone else. You looked at the selection of blood, all different types, ages, and diets. Your eyes wandered down to the bottom of the menu. “Hey,” you said over your shoulder to Ransom, “what do you think the Captain’s Special is?”

He went completely still. “What’d you say?” he asked, deadly serious. Without waiting for an answer he sniffed deeply. “Oh shit. We have to get out of here. Right fucking now,” he said as he started pulling you away.

You stood your ground. “What? Ran, no! I wanna st–”

A chuckle over his shoulder interrupted you. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh, Ransom?” 

He turned around very slowly to face an impossibly broad man, an inch or two taller than him with golden blonde hair and boy next door good looks. This new man looked about ten years younger than Ransom, but you knew better than to take that at face value. He reeked of power and experience.

“Steve,” Ransom said, cooly. “I thought you were still in Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Not for a few decades. It was time for a change.” He gave Ransom an obvious once-over. “You look good.”

Ransom scowled. “Where’s Bucky?”

Steve laughed and shrugged. “No idea. You know how Buck is.”

“I don’t actually.” Ransom said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard his voice be so cold. “I only met him at the end there.”

The grin didn’t leave Steve’s face. “Come on, you aren’t still upset about all that? You knew the score going in, Pup.” 

“There were lots of things I didn’t know going in, Steve.”

Steve sighed. “You always were so stubborn,” he said, reaching a hand out to stroke Ransom’s cheek, and Ransom, right in front of your eyes, fucking leaned into it.

Without realizing it, a growl built up in your throat. Steve’s eyes cut to you for the first time. “Oh! And who’s this pretty little thing?”

At that, Ransom seemed to come back to himself. “None of your fucking business.”

Steve wasn’t deterred. His eyes bore into you. You’d never been looked at like that before. It was like he was looking inside you. You felt like he could see everything you’d ever done, everything you’d ever thought. It made you want to cower, but it also pulled you to him.

“Oh,” he said with a slight moan, “she is brand new. What’d you bring me, puppy?”

“I didn’t bring you anything.” Ransom growled. “She’s mine.”

Steve looked back at Ransom at that. “Yours? As in…”

“Yes.”

He looked at you critically. “Very interesting.” He held out a hand to you. “Steve Rogers. Welcome to my club.”

You took it and said your name. He brought your hand up to his lips and laid a soft kiss on your knuckles, then, as he released it, gave you a smile that you could only describe as predatory. “An absolute pleasure,” he said. He took a breath as if to say more when he was interrupted by someone in a club uniform whispering in his ear. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Ransom. “I have to take care of this. But you should come back tomorrow night. I have a private room in the back. We’ll be able to catch up.” He glanced at you and licked his lips, then grabbed Ransom by the back of the neck and leaned in to give him one of the filthiest kisses you’d ever seen. Open-mouthed and wet. You could tell, even from the outside, how in control of it he was. It both made your knees weak and your blood boil. You were furious at Ransom for submitting to it. When he was done, he rested his forehead against Ransom’s and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Ran. Come back tomorrow.” When Steve pulled away, he winked at you. Then, over your head to the bartenders behind you, “Whatever they want is on me,” before disappearing back into the crowd.

Ransom grabbed your hand and tugged. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growled. 

Once you were on the street outside, you pulled Ransom to a halt. “Who the fuck was that?” you shouted.

“That,” Ransom snarled, “was the fucking Captain!” At your blank look, he let out a heavy sigh. “Christ, you’re still so new. He’s a big fucking deal in our circles, ok? He’s a name. He’s known.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He’s a famous vampire?”

“He’s a powerful vampire!”

“Well, I could obviously see that! It radiates off of him! What I’m asking is, who is he to you?”

Ransom backed himself up against the nearest building and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and sighed again. “He’s the one who turned me.”

“What?” was all you were able to say. You’d known, of course you’d known, that Ransom hadn’t always been a vampire, that he’d been turned at some point. But he’d never said a word about the circumstances and you honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Him being a vampire was just so natural to you, you couldn’t imagine him any other way.

And then you remembered how you'd felt when you'd first woken up when you'd opened your eyes and seen Ransom standing above you – everything you'd felt about him, the man who'd given you this incredible gift. The idea of Ransom feeling that way about someone else – about Steve – filled you with a fire so intense you wanted to spread it through this entire city, burn down absolutely fucking everything. “How long were you together?” You asked and you could feel how your voice shook.

“Less than a decade,” he said like he was trying to dismiss the whole thing. 

You scoffed. “You say that like it isn't a long time!”

“It isn't! Not to him, not to someone that old. He fought in the Revolutionary War, ok? I was a one-night stand to him.”

“But he wasn’t that to you,” you hissed.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then, finally, “No. He wasn’t.”

You’d never felt like this before, not even before, when you’d found out everything Andy had been up to. You’d never felt this all-consuming fire, this hate and despair and lust all swirling together. You wanted to put your fist through the brick wall next to you. You wanted to put Ransom through it. You wanted to fuck him right there on the street. It was only the fact that you equally wanted to do all three things at once that kept you from doing any of them.

Like he always could, Ransom read everything on your face, in your body. “I hate him, ok?” he said, reaching out and softly laying his palm against your cheek. “I hate him so much.” He was placating you but you still leaned into it. 

“You want him,” you whined. It was obvious in the way he’d melted into Steve’s touch, Steve’s kiss.

“I do,” Ransom nodded and you growled. He stroked his thumb along your cheekbone to soothe you. “I’ll always want him, just like you’ll always want me and I’ll always want you. There’s something about that bond – when you turn someone. I don’t know, but no matter how much I hate him, I’ll always want him.”

“And he’ll always want you,” you snarled.

Ransom gave you a rueful smile. “That, I’m not so sure. He’s a couple hundred years old and I don’t think even he knows how many progeny he has. Plus he’s been in love with the same man since he was human. When Bucky came back, I was shown the door.”

You were finally starting to let go of your anger. You moved fully into Ransom’s space, placing one hand on his chest. “Fuck him, then,” you said. “Let’s go back in there, drink him out of house and home and then get the fuck out of Germany.”

Ransom rested his forehead against yours, in a mirror of what Steve had done to him, and sighed. “We can’t. We have to come back tomorrow night.”

“We don’t.”

“We do. He’s fixated on you now.”

You took a step back at that and looked at him, confused. “He barely looked at me!”

“Trust me, if we leave now, it’ll become an obsession, and he’ll come after us just to show us that he can. We don’t want that.”

For the first time that night, you felt a frisson of fear. “Does he want to hurt me?”

Ransom snorted and you had the shortest moment to be offended before he said, “He wants to fuck you. Both of us, probably.”

“What?” you asked, surprised. “What would be the point of that for him?”

He snorted again, “Besides orgasms?” he said and then sobered. “It’s a power play. You have to know that every single thing he does is a power play. Ok? You must remember that when we see him again.” 

“Ok,” you nodded, a little frightened by his seriousness. But only for a moment, because quickly your thoughts were overtaken by a broad chest, thick thighs, and a perfect ass. 

You looked up to see Ransom smirking at you. “Yeah,” he said, “whatever you’re imagining, it’s going to be so much better. It’s the best thing about him.” 

You returned to the club the next night. Ransom had insisted on dressing you both – you in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress that barely covered your ass and left your neck and chest exposed, him in a burgundy silk button-down, strategically unbuttoned, and tight black pants that made his ass pop. You were sure that if you could have looked at yourselves together in a mirror, it would have been a sight to behold.

Someone was called to the door when you got there and you were led directly to Steve’s private rooms in the back. You entered into a sort of sitting room, plush seating scattered throughout, arranged over lush rugs and under low lighting. Everything was dark wood and deep reds and blues. It communicated comfort, luxury, and, more than anything else, power.

Steve was already there, sitting in a large, wing-backed leather armchair. He looked, as ever, clean-cut, professional, and in charge. At his feet kneeled a dark-haired young woman, clad only in an expensive-looking slip made of silk and lace. You could smell the humanity on her. It took everything in you to not let your fangs drop right there. Steve slowly, gently, pet her head, like she were his dog. He gave a satisfied smile when he looked up at you both. “Good boy,” he said to Ransom. “I knew you’d come.”

Ransom huffed and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He layed a possessive arm across your stomach. “Of course. Who would dare ignore a summons from The Captain?” he said dryly.

Steve rolled his eyes but kept his smile. “Nothing as dramatic as all that. Am I not allowed to want to catch up with an old friend and his new lover?” Ransom scoffed but didn’t say anything, so Steve continued, gesturing to the woman at his feet. “I took the liberty of having something brought up from my private reserves for us to share. I remembered how you prefer the earthy ones, Ran. This one’s full-bodied and oaky, with the subtlest hint of vanilla. You’ll like it, I’m sure.” He stopped petting her, instead taking her hair in a harsh grip and moving her head to expose her neck.

At that, you couldn’t control yourself anymore, your fangs dropped with a hiss and you lunged forward. Ransom caught you, both arms around your middle and you let out a desperate whine. “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” he said. “My little rabbit still hasn’t quite mastered self-control and I would hate for there to be an accident with one of your favorites.”

Steve scoffed. “Of course, she doesn’t have any control with you being the one to teach her.” 

You felt Ransom stiffen behind you, and you were able to pull yourself together enough to stop fighting to get loose. You sank back into him, partly to comfort and partly to apologize. You’d embarrassed him. You tipped your head back to try to whisper an apology, maybe, but Ransom just subtly shook his head and ran a comforting hand down your side.

“Well,” Steve said, patting the woman on the arm and then snapping at the door behind him, “can’t be helped, I guess. Pity.” He pulled out his phone and typed a message as she got up and left the room. “They’ll bring us something from the bar.”

“Excellent,” Ransom said, still running his hand up and down your side. “We haven’t eaten anything yet tonight.”

“Well,” Steve said with a smirk as there was a knock on the door and someone in the club’s uniform came in with a tray of drinks, “I promise you’ll both be very satisfied.” He passed a tumbler to each of you. “What should we cheers to?” he asked. Then his eyes narrowed in on you. “To new friendships,” he said, with a quirk of his lips.

You raised your glass, then took a sip and moaned. It was delicious, even though you missed the little cries and whimpers that usually accompanied a feeding. 

You were so absorbed in your glass that you were surprised by Steve’s fingers circling your wrist. “You like it?” he asked, his voice low and husky, standing much closer to you than you’d realized. This close, he was completely intoxicating. His scent, the coldness of his touch, his power.

“I do,” you breathed, “it’s delicious.” Ransom’s arm wrapped across your body again, pulling you tight into him. 

Steve ignored the display from Ransom, softly running his thumb over what had been your pulse point when you were human. “I’m glad,” he said. “I’m here to please.”  He began to pull you away by your wrist and Ransom let out a short but obvious growl. Steve took his attention off you but left his hand and tsked. “You always were so possessive. I’d hoped you’d have grown out of that by now, but you’re still so young, aren’t you, pup?”

Ransom scowled. “I always hated it when you called me that.”

“No,” Steve said. He leaned forward and placed a soft but leading kiss on Ransom’s lips, squishing you between the two men. Your whole body was thrumming with need now. Steve pulled away, and Ransom moved his head to chase after him. “You loved it,” Steve whispered.

He grabbed your free wrist with his other hand and pulled you with him as he walked over to the nearest couch, perching on the arm. “Come here, little one. Let’s talk, just you and me.” He pulled you so you straddled his knee, and you could tell that you were soaking his pants leg through the tiny excuse for underwear you were wearing. “Oh, you are a needy thing, aren’t you? Maybe you should stay with me, hmm? I’m much more experienced and have so much more to teach you.”

You could feel Ransom’s hackles rising, even from a few feet away. You turned your head to look at him, still standing by the door, and his eyes were locked on you, just you. You bit your lip to hold back the moan at how he watched. You turned back to Steve and smiled seductively as you said, “And what would happen to me when Bucky comes back?”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. His eyes cut to Ransom as he said, “Jealous little thing!” He jerked his knee up, rubbing hard on your cunt and you gasped. “Yes, I’m sure he’s told you all about how I spurned him. Took advantage of his naivety. As if he ever had any. Is that what he told you? Am I the big bad?” You couldn’t answer him, could barely think, as his knee continued to grind against you. “Oh, little one, you are drenched. How does he handle you by himself? Ransom,” he called over your shoulder. “Come help your desperate thing.”

In an instant, you felt Ransom’s hands on your hips, and you couldn’t help the cry that tumbled out of you. He had your dress off before you could even register what he was doing. Steve groaned at the sight of the black lace that adorned your body. “You wrapped her up exactly how I like. Such a good puppy.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You tore through Steve’s shirt, sending buttons flying across the room. He lunged forward, kissing you, finally, demanding and aggressive, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, making you keep up with him. You felt Ransom’s own mouth on your neck, his hands on your breasts. Your hands fumbled their way down Steve’s abs and into his pants, freeing his cock—long, fat, and so, so hard for you. One of them, you weren’t sure which, tore away your underwear, the sting of the elastic snapping pushing you ever closer to the edge. In your periphery, you vaguely noticed Steve’s arm snaking around you and heard Ransom gasp. You wrapped a firm hand around Steve’s cock and stroked furiously, as Ransom’s fingers (you’d always know Ransom’s fingers) slid between your folds, his thumb quickly finding your clit while two fingers slipped inside you. You keened as he touched you exactly where he knew you needed it and sent you hurtling over the cliff of your orgasm. Your whole body shook with it, only managing to stay upright thanks to being sandwiched between these two men. It felt endless, but as the aftershocks ran their course, and you slowly came back down to earth, you registered Steve’s breaths growing more erratic and Ransom’s groans picking up behind you. You tightened your grip on Steve and increased the pace of your strokes to an inhuman speed until he bucked uncontrollably with a guttural moan and painted his spend all over your front. Seconds later, you felt Ransom’s own release on the small of your back. They both continued to jerk against you, gradually slowing down until the three of you were just one tangle of limbs, collectively trying to catch your breaths. You rested your head against Steve’s shoulder as Ransom collapsed against your back.

Steve looked over you both to the clock on the wall. “Well,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction, “we have about six hours til sunrise, and there’s a bed in the next room. Think we’ll be able to find a way to fill the time?”

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[skyahri]

Remember Part Four |SatoSugu X Reader| HC Series

Part Three Masterlist Ko-fi

A/N: Y'all, I'm so sorry it's so late. My mind has been buzzing in a different direction.

- - - - -

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Satoru..."

He'd been begging to join you on your unofficial outing for the better part of an hour. He'd been following you around, making empty promises to behave and offering you random things in return if you'd just allow him to accompany you. But you knew better, and after nearly thirteen years of knowing the man, it was safe to assume he'd only cause a headache.

"I'm serious. Let me go with you. You don't have to do everything by yourself, you know."

"Satoru..."

Your patience is wearing thin at this point. There's a silent warning that follows the hiss of his name, but he ignores it all the same.

"Just let us in. Let us help."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"I know it has something to do with Suguru."

You froze, staring blankly in front of you for only a moment before turning around to face him. His expression was hard, something that you've seen many times over the years, but never one you'd expect from pre-tragedy Gojo- someone still high on the spoils of his upbringing and blind to the heartache of the real world.

He'd said it with all the confidence in the world, like it was a fact and not some half-assed conclusion he (and presumably Geto, too) had come to. Your lack of response and obvious shock must have been all the confirmation he needed- to say everything that's been on his mind since that encounter in the bathroom two weeks ago. To hell with Suguru's endless warnings about coming on too strong. He was tired of waiting for you to come around.

"You're struggling..." his voice was uncharacteristically soft, like he was worried he'd spook you, "You don't sleep. You skip meals. You disappear without so much as a goodbye. We know you're doing all of this for the greater good, or whatever, but it's hard watching you kill yourself in the process. I just want to take some of the weight off of you, but you won't let me."

You can only stare up at him. He'd tipped his glasses down to the tip of his nose, allowing you to look into his pretty blue eyes. (That asshole knows your weaknesses). It's easy to get a read on him, the seriousness of his words reflecting perfectly on his face. But even if he does mean it, you can't bring yourself to drag him into your never-ending pit of hopelessness.

"I appreciate it, Satoru, but I can't take that kind of risk. This could very well be my only shot and I can't risk losing him just because I can't handle a little pressure-"

"It's not a little pressure and we both know it."

"You just don't understand-"

"Then make me understand!"

"He leaves, Satoru!"

Maybe he's more in tune with your brain than you are, or maybe he just knows all the right buttons to push, because the stress simmering in your mind seems to bubble over in that moment. You inhale sharply and let it all out.

"Things happen, terrible things, and it changes him, and he just... leaves. I can't tell you because I can't risk fucking up our only chance to save him. I just-" a heavy sob breaks through your sentence, but it doesn't deter you, "I love you and you love me, but we love him. We need him, Satoru, and he isn't around. We're not the same. We're sad and empty and it's lonely."

It spills out like word vomit. You can't control what you're saying and you can barely process the actual syllables, but you don't stop.

"I can't spend another decade wearing his shirts that you've spritzed with his cologne and wishing he were there. I can't spend another Sunday looking at the extra chair we keep at the dining table just in case he comes back. I avoid your nightstand because I know you keep a ring in there for him. You and I still text in the group chat even though he's been inactive since that night!"

Satoru is quiet for once in his life. He's been completely stunned into silence, not daring to interrupt your ranting. Your eerily calm pleading turned into shouting at some point and he's grateful for the privacy of an empty school on a particularly busy day.

He hates the tears in your eyes, even more so when they start to drip down your flushed cheeks. He wishes that he had better listened to all of Suguru's annoying lectures about sympathy and empathy (or whatever it's called) because he's grossly ill-prepared for this conversation.

He settles on pulling you into a hug, because while words aren't his strong suit, actions certainly are. He lets you cry into his chest without complaint. You grip the fabric of his school-issued white button-up and let go of all the pent-up grief from the past twelve years.

"So,"

He waits for you to become slightly more composed.

"What are we gonna do about it?"

You chuckle at how unapologetically comfortable he is with himself. You don't remove yourself from his embrace, choosing instead to hide the incoming tension.

"We stop him."

"From?"

"A year and a half from now, Suguru goes on a solo mission to a small village, where he will kill a hundred and twelve villagers. He takes over a cult, whose new goal is to kill all non-sorcerers in an attempt to end curses forever."

Satoru swallow hard. Honestly, what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

"... seriously?"

Well, apparently not that.

You push off of him and punch him square in the chest. It's playful, kind of, lightening the atmosphere a bit.

"Okay, okay. I just mean, like, if Suguru were to switch sides, that's definitely the prerogative he'd take. So, what now?"

- - - - -

You sat across from him on the city bus to your destination, an envelope in his hands.

"This is it?"

There are three newspaper clippings inside. Obituaries, spaced years apart, and non-specific. Names, dates, and kind words, but nothing more.

"Yeah... that's it."

Satoru slumps back in his seat, his blue and white kimono fanning out across the seat. He sighs and slides further down, pouting like a child who didn't get his way.

"Why not wait until we have more information, then? Seems like a waste to me."

"They host a harvest festival twice a year to bring in money, but other than that, it's pretty closed off. This is the only time I can gather information without raising suspicion."

"What are we looking for?"

"Suguru spares two little girls. I only met them once and I didn't have the opportunity to ever ask him about it, so my knowledge is limited. I know they're sorcerers and that they adored Suguru, but nothing else. I was hoping to check out their home situation, if possible. The request the elders send in is very... hostile to say the least, so I was wondering if there was some build-up to the event."

"You think maybe they're being mistreated? Suguru would definitely snap over something like that."

"I think that something happened right around the time the girls would've acquired their cursed techniques. Villages like this tend to be irrationally superstitious. Three unexplained deaths and two girls who can see monsters probably won't go over very well."

Satoru let his head fall onto the window with a loud thunk. His brain was starting to hurt. Is this really what you're up to when you sneak off? Coming up with an elaborate hypothesis based on nothing but (only possibly relevent) future knowledge and guesswork? He'd only been on the case for two hours and he was already drained.

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Depends. I brought some talismans to hide around the area at the very least. If we see anything concrete, we'll return to the school and submit an official request to Yaga."

"I don't understand why we're sneaking around. Isn't future vision a good enough reason to investigate?"

"I'd like to keep this whole thing away from the elders if possible. Yaga and I have an understanding of sorts, but the geezers aren't as amicable."

You knew Satoru could at least understand that much. While he doesn't have the extensive experience you have with them yet, he's still vividly aware of just how scrutinizing they can be.

You can see the restlessness settle onto his face. He hates the back road way of things, preferring to charge in head first and think about consequences later- a big reason (among many) that you didn't initially plan to key him into any of this.

"We can't just, I don't know, ask Suguru to chill out or something?"

You lean over him and flick his forehead. He flinches back and starts to complain, but is cut off by the screeching of the bus's brakes.

The two of you exit the vehicle and make your way down the dirt path that leads to the village. You expected to feel something, anything really, but even once you're past the torii there's nothing. No cursed energy, residuals, or any sign of abnormality.

Satoru must not see anything either, because his brows are pulled together and there's a slight frown on his face.

Even without seeing anything off about the place, it's still weird. The only time you've ever been here before was directly after the massacre. Now, not only are all of the villagers alive, but the whole area is bustling with tourists.

You only have a moment to glance over the sea of people before Satoru is pulling you over towards the food stands. He heads straight for the Takoyaki stand and stuffs a handful of yen into the vendor's hand. He practically shoves one of the trays in your face and takes one for himself before pulling you off again.

"Satoru, stop! What are you doing? We aren't here to dick around!"

Two minutes. It's only been two minutes and yet he's already lost sight of the goalpost.

He doesn't show any signs that he's heard you, instead opting to maneuver through people until you're parked next to a giant oak tree on a small hill. He drops the wrist he had taken and turns around. He's wearing that shit-eating grin, the one that clearly says he's up to no good and doesn't feel all that sorry about it.

"We can do both. Enjoy the sights, eat some food, grab some fresh produce, and gather information. Consider it a win-win situation."

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to come. You never take anything seriously."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing two things at once, princess. Besides-"

He grabs your tray and sets both down on the ground. He turns you around rather aggressively and pushes on your shoulders until you're both sat on the grass, his long legs awkwardlybent on either side of you. He leans forward so his head is over your shoulder and his hands slide down to rest on your elbows.

"Look."

You're rolling your eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting, about to lecture him, but then you see it- two little girls, a blonde and a brunette.

They're with two people who you can only assume are their parents. They seem fine. Happy. Healthy. Smiles on their face, sweet pastries in their hands, and powdered sugar on their cheeks.

You glance around from your elevated space and notice that everyone you can confidently assume belongs to this village looks fine. Vendors are laughing with their customers and farmers are helping kids pick berries off the remaining bushes.

"I don't understand..."

"It's just too early to intervene. We'll come back in the summer and go from there, okay?"

You relax your body and lean back into him.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now,

He hands you the tray kindly this time and leans back just enough so he can enjoy his own while still invading your personal space.

"How about we eat our Takoyaki, browse around a bit, hang up some talismans, and then head back home? Suguru should be back tonight."

He'd successfully worn you down. You couldn't argue with him even if you wanted to. He'd gone with you to the (apparently useless) event, found exactly what you were looking for, and solidified that nothing could be done quite yet.

So what else is there to do besides having to his demands?

"... alright."

Nothing.

He smiled at you.

"Good girl."

Taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts @sadunicorns11 @reiluvr

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[hellfirexwhore]

Come Back To Me - E.M.

BestFriend!Eddie Munson x reader

This is the first thing I have posted on here and the first fic I have written in a very long time, I hope you enjoy! 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

After an argument with your best friend Eddie, you're left wondering what it is that you did to set him off. You feel it might be something deeper than just not liking a guy that asked you out, but is Eddie going to have the nerve to say it?

Hurt/Comfort, Use of Y/N, Friends to lovers, Verbal fight

Wordcount: 2.8k

Memories of the night before cloud your mind as you wipe down the counters in your apartment, attempting to distract yourself with tasks and chores. You've already swept the floors, finished the laundry, and cleaned out the fridge, yet your mind is still lingering on the stupid fight you and your best friend Eddie had. The feeling of heartache won't go away, the anxiety growing more present as the hours pass. 

You and Eddie had never fought like that before. The look in his eyes as his voice raised was something you never wanted to see from the person who usually brings you the most comfort. You said some things you shouldn't have out of hurt and anger, he said some things he shouldn't have, and it all ended with him leaving your place in a huff, cutting the conversation off himself with no resolution. Being the stubborn man he is, you're unsure if he would even reach out and apologize. You knew you owed him an apology as well but the way the fight blew up is still something so confusing to you, and you don't even know if you should be the one to ask for forgiveness first. 

"So, I have some exciting news!" You say, passing a soda to Eddie before plopping down next to him on your couch, folding your legs underneath your body. He raises his eyebrows as if to ask you to go on, and gushing, you do. "You know that guy who's always flirting with me at work? Matt? Well I was cashing out his tab yesterday and he finally asked me out! Can you believe it?"

The messy-headed boy blinks a few times, processing what you've told him and tries to remember exactly who this Matt guy is. All of the sudden, it clicks. He furrows his brow as he pictures the douche constantly looking down your shirt and winking at you from across the bar. Eddie knows you don't notice his gross antics, conveniently for Matt, only noticing the sweet words and generous tips. 

"You mean the guy who brings a different girl to your bar every other weekend and stares at your tits the whole time?" Eddie huffs, eyes widening trying to get his point across. You look at him, puzzled. 

"What do you mean? He does not stare at my tits, and he's dating around, who cares? He's in his 20s, I'm in my 20s, it's what we do." You respond, disappointed that he's being so negative immediately. He's not even pretending to be excited for you like you have to pretend to be every time he says he has a date or one of your coworkers slips him her number. 

"Y/N, come on. He's a total tool." He sets his soda on the coffee table and crosses his arms, obviously annoyed. You didn't expect this reaction from him. 

"You can at least pretend to be happy for me, you know." You mutter, focusing your attention on your hands, not looking at his irritated face. He scoffs, shaking his head at you, still looking at your face though you refuse to look at his. 

"Happy that he finally got what he wanted and he's going to just get into your panties and then never speak to you again? Yeah, I'm elated." 

"Really Eddie? You think I'm just going to sleep with him? He asked me to get coffee, like a real date. I was excited about it." 

"You can be excited about it, but I know what's going to happen and I guess I just didn't think you were this naïve." 

That's where it exploded. The hurt look on your face must have gone unnoticed because he didn't let up. Over the next 15 minutes at least, words were thrown like stones, voices were raised, and by the time Eddie was called a dick and you were called a crybaby, the argument was too far gone. You didn't even fully process what had happened until your front door was slammed with Eddie on the other side of it, storming toward his van. 

Now here you are, alone and sad in your kitchen clutching a rag. You can't wrack your brain enough to find a reason why he would be so upset that you have a date with a guy he doesn't even know. You're not stoked about the dates he's been on or the girls he's been with, but you push that to the side for the sake of the friendship. Now that it's your turn, you expected some sort of positivity, fake or not. 

You've been harboring feelings for your best friend for as long as you can remember, but all of those feelings were pushed to the side years ago when you realized he would never feel the same way. If he did, he would have said something by now, so why hold on to something that won't happen? 

Hours passed and it felt like an eternity since you'd last seen your favorite person. The attempt to distract yourself has been a total failure all day, but at least your home was cleaned top to bottom. Nothing can get the words he said to your out of your mind and you were certain you would be thinking about it until you saw him again. 

Before you knew it, it was 10pm. You headed into your bathroom to attempt to make yourself more comfortable and get ready to cozy up for the night. Without thinking, you threw on one of Eddie's old Sabbath shirts he left at your place, a pair of black cotton shorts, and some comfortable socks that bunch around your ankles. After pulling your hair up messily into a clip, you hear a timid knock on your door. You can practically feel your stomach drop to the floor as you pad across your apartment to the front door. You peek out of the peep hole and to your surprise, an anxious looking Eddie is standing there. He's playing with his rings, twisting them on his fingers. 

You slowly unlock the door, taking a deep breath before you open it completely, taking a good look at your best friend standing there in an old Hellfire tee shirt and a pair of red and black pajama pants. 

"Hi." He says quietly, carefully stepping across the threshold when you open the door further to let him in. You close the door behind him and turn to see he's looking at your face, waiting to see if you're still mad at him. 

"I didn't think I'd hear from you today." You respond, walking to the couch to sit down, leaving room for him beside you. He sighs and takes the empty seat, still fidgeting with his rings, a nervous tick he's had for years. 

"I was going to go to bed but I've been thinking about this all day and I couldn't go to sleep again knowing you're upset with me." He's looking at you through the thick curtain his bangs create across his forehead, looking vulnerable and sad. You can't help but get lost in his baby cow eyes, but you're still unsure of what you're going to say to him. 

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to say, Eddie. I've been thinking about it all day too, sick to my stomach about it." It's true. You had been close to dry heaving since you woke up this morning, a knot in your stomach refusing to leave, solid as a rock, sitting as a burden. 

You don't like conflict, especially with the person you trust and love the most, yet here you are having to face the conflict itself as it sits in front of you looking like a scared puppy. Either tackle it now or it'll be left unresolved and make you sick for days to come, hell, even weeks. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten upset with you, I should have told you how I felt without getting mad." Eddie wants to grab your soft hands and hold them in his calloused ones. He wants to grab your face and drill his point into your pretty head of how sorry he is for getting so upset. You didn't deserve it. He knew that. He knew it was his stupid feelings getting in the way and he knew that if he let you go out with this Matt guy, he would end up with you crying on his couch, and that's something he can't stomach again. 

Eddie has seen you date other guys before, none of them ending particularly well, and he picks up the pieces of your broken heart each time, never one single complaint leaving his lips. A much as he loves you coming to him for comfort because he wants to give it, it shatters his heart to see you hurt. That's what's so fucked up about this. Instead of cleaning up someone else's mess, he needs to clean up his own because for once, he's the reason for your sadness.

"We both said things we didn't mean, Eds. I just don't understand where it all came from." It's your turn to fidget with your fingers, looking down at your hands and focusing on the chipped, dark green polish. You made a mental note to repair your manicure, but that can wait for a time you're not on the verge of tears. 

"Look, I'm happy someone asked you on a date and I would have been more supportive if it was anyone but him." Eddie replies softly. He seems genuine and solid in his opinion of the guy who made a move on you. You feel there's something deeper going on here, an alternative reason as to why he rubbed Eddie the wrong way, but maybe it was simply just Eddie trying to protect you. 

"What do you have against Matt? You've never even spoken to him. I don't understand." You say, looking up at the fuzzy-haired metalhead. Eddie shakes his head before he continues.

"He keeps an eye on you so I keep an eye on him. I know how he treats his dates. I see the way he looks at you and it's gross, Y/N. I got angry with you and I shouldn't have. If you saw the way he is when you're not looking, you would never have agreed to go out with him. You're not naïve, I'm sorry I said that." You don't notice the way Matt ogles you, even when he has a girl with him, but Eddie does. You don't notice the way he doesn't even pretend to care about whatever his date is saying to him, but Eddie does. You don't notice how he makes comments about your body under his breath, but of course, Eddie does.

"I didn't know.." You shake your head, grossed out by the way you were so blind to the way a guy who's been flirting with you for months, making you feel good about yourself, is actually a shitty guy and it wasn't just Eddie being ironically judgmental. 

"I know, sweetheart. I just get protective over you. You, Wayne, and Dustin are the most important people in my life and I just couldn't let you get treated badly by some asshole. That's no excuse though, and I really am sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Ed. I know you're just looking out for me." You place your hands on his, keeping his fingers in one place since he can't stop absentmindedly picking at them. He looks at your hands and sighs, running a thumb over the silky skin of the top of your hand. 

"No, don't apologize. I was a total douche last night and I don't feel good about it. I promise the next time you get a date, as long as he's not a predatory asshole, I'll pretend to be happy and give you the support you need." He doesn't even realize what he had said, but even if he did, it's too late to turn back now. He had been planning to say something for a while since pretending his feelings for you don't exist hasn't helped him one bit over the years. Everyone sees it but you, and he can't understand how but he kicks himself for feeling the way he does. 

"Pretend? Eddie, why would you need to pretend?" Confusion washes over you, and a little bit of hurt. If Eddie was your friend, your best friend at that, why would he need to pretend to be happy for you? Is he worried that someone else would take away from your time together? You've made it clear that you wouldn't let someone steal you away. He should know that by now.

"Look, I've been talking to Dustin and he told me to stop being a pansy, so here I am, not being a pansy." Eddie takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he opens them and catches yours in his gaze. He adores the confused look on your face, but can't keep this in anymore. "I don't want you to go on dates with other guys, Y/N." 

"I need you to think about what you're saying to me right now and how you're saying it." This isn't happening. You must be misunderstanding because there is no way Eddie is implying what you think he is.

"I know exactly what I'm saying and the way you invaded my mind today just solidified it. I need to get this off of my chest. I don't want you to date other guys because... I want you to just date me." He's speaking slowly, not because he's trying to dumb it down for you, but because he wants to be very clear in what his words mean. He wants you to know just how much he means this.

"Wh- huh?" Your mind is racing. The knot in your stomach is unraveling, but it's jumping around like a child on a trampoline. 

"I know, okay I'm not trying to make it weird. I know you're my best friend and I shouldn't be saying this to you and if you want, I can just leave, we can go back to normal, and pretend this conversation never happened. I'll get over you, it will just take some time, I'm sorry." He shakes his head, looking back down at your joined hands, pulling his away. You stop him before he can fully break the contact of your skin that's now suddenly burning at the touch. 

"Don't." You say abruptly. 

"What?" Eddie quickly looks back up at you and sees the soft look in your eyes. He searches them for any trace of doubt. 

"Don't get over me." You've never imagined yourself being so bold. You've never even imagined having this conversation with Eddie. 

"What are you saying?" What he's really asking is if you're messing with him. He's asking if you're confused, or misunderstanding, or playing some cruel joke on him. 

"I'm saying I want you. Jesus H Christ, I've wanted you for years but I never said anything because I didn't want to freak you out and ruin what we have." You've never seen Eddie's eyes light up so quickly. He looks like he's just been gifted Ozzy Osbourne in a box on his birthday. 

"What?! We could have been making out this whole time?!" He grasps your hands even tighter as you burst into laughter. Your giggles are music to Eddie's ears and he's just beaming.

"Eddie oh my god." You lean forward, the laughter subsiding. You place your forehead against his and you can feel his breath fan your face. You're still in shock. 

"I can't even tell you how fast my heart is beating right now. I think I might pass out." He breathes out. He laughs softly, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. 

"We can't both have heart attacks right now!" You say, smiling bigger than you have in a long time. You both just sit there for a few minutes, really taking in everything that's happening. This doesn't feel real, everything you've wanted for so long coming to be something that actually exists. Eddie wonders how he got this far without passing out or hyperventilating but for now, you're just relishing in each other. 

"So.. About the whole making out thing.." Eddie murmurs, his hands traveling to your hips and giving them a squeeze. 

"Shut up and kiss me, nerd." 

So he does. 

[zepskies]

In Bad Weather

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along?

[Set in S15 - "Fix It" for season finale]

AN: I had to finish the finale (maybe?) of this story verse before the end of Hispanic Heritage Month. 😘 This is the third installment of "Midnight Espresso!"

Song Inspo: “We Made It” by H.E.R. (<- On repeat. Seriously if you haven't heard this one, you'll thank me later.)

Word Count: 7,600

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smutty smut, angst, hurt/comfort, body insecurity, body appreciation, heartache, followed by the fluffiest fluff…

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Al Mal Tiempo

Dean can’t remember the last time he woke up quite like this.

“Shit,” he grunts, clenching fists into the sheets.

He hears a muffled giggle underneath them.

He’s lying on his back, one knee starting to bend as he jolts on reflex. But familiar hands are holding down his thighs, as even more familiar lips caress him through his sweatpants.

Dean raises up the blankets and sheets to see your slightly frizzy-haired head pop up. Your playfully mischievous eyes meet his.

“Hey,” you greet him.

He raises a brow at you, smiling incredulously. “Hey.”

You then give him an annoyed look. “Do you mind? I was working on something.”

You try and cover yourself back up with the blankets, but Dean tosses them down your body. He wants to see you in that tank top and those little shorts. He's already getting a nice view of cleavage, no bra, and you’re straddling his thighs. His knees slide up to press against your ample behind.

“I do mind, actually.” His voice is still coarse with sleep. He clears it a little, and he smirks. “I was getting some good Zs in. You know, before I was interrupted.”

Your hands glide smoothly up his thighs, your nails catching on the fabric. You tilt your head at him.

“You really want me to stop?” you ask. Dean can’t readily respond, because he felt the shape of your words against his dick.

He moans, his eyes closing, fingers gripping the mattress under him when your mouth and tongue continue to outline the shape of his cock through his pants.

“I think I could finish you just like this,” you tell him, and still, your lips never leave him. “Or…maybe I’m feeling generous.”

Your nails hook on the waistband of his old sweatpants. The elastic has practically no give as you pull down the hem and expose his risen length. Shooting him one more smile, you let your hands glide down between his hips before you finally take his waiting cock into your mouth.

You love the sound of Dean’s voice, especially when you have him like this. His hand buries in your hair, tangling in the curls.

“Fuck, baby…” he mutters.

That’s kinda the idea, you want to say, but your mouth is preoccupied. Your lips and tongue move over him slowly. And soon your hands join to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking whatever you can’t take fully in your mouth.

You know he’s enjoying himself when his hand tightens in your hair. His breathing becomes labored, but still too steady for your liking.

You decide to pick up the pace. In your mind you think of a song to keep a good rhythm.

Devórame otra vez, ven, devórame otra vez…

Que la boca me sabe a tu cuerpo. Desesperan mis ganas por ti…

“Wait, wait,” Dean says, guttural in his throat. He stops you for a moment with his hands on your shoulders. You look up at him in confusion, but you oblige him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern.

“Nothin’.” He shoots you a weary, lopsided smile. “Just thinking I want to have enough mojo to give you a good morning too.”

You snort. Mojo. This man.

But you shake your head. “You’re the winner today, baby. I just wanna make you feel good.”

It’s been a long year. You all had dealt with Michael taking Dean from you, at least for a while. Now Michael is gone, thanks to Jack, and they’d managed to reunite Jack back with his soul…but there’s still Chuck to deal with. It hangs over you all like a malevolent cloud.

So you want to help Dean take his mind off all that, just for a little while. And maybe part of you thinks that if you love him that much more, he won’t despair as much over how Chuck has been manipulating the brothers Winchester…basically their entire lives.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, however, when Dean grasps your arms and tugs you up until you’re level with his chest. His hand finds your cheek, brushing his thumb there, then slides into your hair.

He smirks. “We can both be winners.”

A smile spreads across your lips, just before he pulls you into a kiss. Passion grows one into many, with hands disappearing under each other’s clothes to remove them.

Strong hands part your thick thighs further, and long fingers find their way down between them. First teasingly along the seam of your pussy, then slipping inside to get you ready for him.

Your face buries in his neck as you moan encouragements into his ear, not all of them in English. By now, he’s learned a lot of what you whisper in Spanish. It still makes electricity spark down his spine, no matter what language you’re speaking in.

He knows when it’s time when the warm inner walls of your core are slick and gripping his fingers tight. But when he removes them, you shudder.

Both of you are breathing hard by the time he actually lines himself up inside of you. You use his shoulders for leverage, and the pads of his fingers circle insistently around your clit as you slowly sink down on his cock.

A keening cry escapes from your throat, while his free hand grips hard on your ass.

“Ah, fuck,” he grunts. Your walls are already fluttering around him, squeezing him like a vice.

You pant for breath. Your loose hair falls around both of you, shielding you from all other thoughts and sensations other than this.

“You feel so good,” you breathe, shifting your hips experimentally. “Always so good.”

Dean nods, and you know what it means: For me too.

He sits up and crushes you against him, bare breasts against his chest. (He loves the feeling.) He wraps an arm around your back and twists, until you’re underneath him and laying against his pillows. He encourages your thighs to stay wrapped around his waist as he begins to pound into you.

You breathe a short laugh. “Can’t let me stay on top?”

Dean grins. He grabs your hand and manages to press a kiss to your palm in between strokes. He knew what you were trying to do earlier, by taking care of him, but he can’t help it. He’s a giver.

And he knows exactly how to give it to you, shifting the angle of his hips to have you arching underneath him, gasping, clinging to his arms.

Thanks to your earlier treatment, that about does it for him. He can’t stop himself from a shuddering release inside you (praise fucking be for birth control, he thinks), but he still makes sure you come with him. He strokes your clit at the same time as his last deep strokes, and soon your voice washes over him as you call his name.

Afterwards, Dean rests his forehead against your shoulder, laying a kiss above your breast. He just woke up a few minutes ago, and he’s already tired.

“Okay. I need a damn nap,” he pants.

A giggle pours out of you. You rub his back soothingly.

“That’s what you get for doing all the work,” you tease. “I tried to help you.” 

“Help with what?”

Both you and Dean freeze at the sound of Jack’s voice. He’s just opened the door to your bedroom like you two hadn’t expressly reminded him about privacy.

You yelp in shock, and Dean’s face screws up in a glare as he reaches back fast for the closest blanket to yank over you both.

“What the hell!”

“Oh…sorry,” Jack says, shielding his own eyes. “Sam just wanted me to tell you that breakfast is ready.”

“You didn’t need to tell them right this second!” Sam calls from down the hall.  

“Knock, man! We knock on closed doors in this house!” Dean says. House. Bunker. Whatever.

He adds, “Or better yet, when my door’s closed, you give it a five-foot perimeter. Understand?”

Jack nods quickly and flees the room. “Sorry!”

The door slams shut behind him. Dean shakes his head. You can almost see the fumes coming out of his ears. You’re embarrassed and blushing, but you’re also biting your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Dean looks down at you.

“It’s not funny. He needs to fuckin’ learn,” he says. His brows are still furrowed, but his mouth twitches upwards. “Should’ve locked that damn door.”

You reach up and twine your arms around his neck. Your lips get tantalizingly close to his.

“You’re still balls-deep inside me,” you remind him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s kinda funny.”

Dean’s lips purse. He doesn’t want to smile, but you’re making it difficult. Your hands slide down his chest, toying with his nipples as they go. You press a kiss to his throat. Meanwhile, your thighs squeeze his hips, reminding him of where he's still deeply buried. You smile when he utters a faltering sound.

"You tryin' to start something else I'll have to finish?" he teases. You give him a playfully narrowed look.

"Sure you got the mojo?" you toss back.

Raising a brow, Dean shifts out of you a few inches, just to push his half-hard cock back inside. You moan a bit, brows furrowed when the move stirs a tremor of arousal in your core. He hardens up fully at the sound, at the feeling of you clenching around him.

He smiles. “Well, well. I’m thinkin’ Round 2 after all.”

You smirk up at him and give his ass a nice little smack. “Then it's my turn for a ride.”

With a huff, he lets the twist of your hips and soft hands push him onto his back.

In the aftermath of Round 2, both of you are spent before you’ve even gotten out of bed. It’s a rare lazy morning where you don’t want to be bothered with another hunt, or even getting dressed just yet.

You have the cover of the warm sheets and blankets. Your back rests against Dean’s side, up against the headboard. His arm is wrapped around you, his hand intertwined with yours as you play with his fingers.

He’s catching up on Dr. Sexy MD, but you’re admittedly lost in thought. You bring his hand to your lips, and you just hold it there.

Dean glances at you and finally notices your contemplation. He strokes a thumb over your ring and pointer fingers.

“You okay?” he asks.

When you register his voice, you merely nod. But Dean isn’t convinced.

“Baby,” he presses.

It finally earns your attention. You look over at him, and you realize that he knows you too well to be fooled. You sigh, in a way that has Dean pausing his show and giving you his full attention.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks.

With your free hand, you rub at your eyes and cheek. “Sam and Eileen. My heart just fucking breaks for them.”

You’re thinking about what happened a couple of weeks ago. After learning that Chuck manipulated Sam, who found the spell to bring Eileen back to life, she just…left.

Part of you wants to be angry with her; you love Sam like he’s your own brother. But you understand her as well. Being tied to Sam and Dean Winchester is like being tied to twin hurricanes. You’ve just been in this for far too long to let go of them now.

Dean nods at your admission, but he doesn’t have an answer for you. He hurts for his brother too. Part of him even feels a little guilty, having what he has with you, when Sam’s bit of happiness just keeps slipping out of his fingers.

“Maybe they just need some time to sort themselves out. Cooler heads and all that,” he says.

Time. You hope that’s all they need. However, it also makes you wonder about other things.

“That’s not it, is it?” Dean asks. He’s watching you shrewdly, and your lips thin into a line.

“Dean, what if…”

“Yeah?”

You hate yourself for even thinking it, let alone saying it. But you and Dean had survived this long on honesty, above all else. You can’t hide this from him anymore.

“What if Chuck manipulated us too?” you ask, in a small voice.

Dean’s face slackens. His hand releases yours, and he turns to face you more fully.

Emotion begins to clog in your throat and burn in your eyes.

“What if you and I would’ve never met if…” Your voice trembles, unshed tears clouding your vision. “And even if we did, would you still have kissed me that night? When we got back from that hunt—”

“Hey,” Dean protests, but now that you’ve begun, you can��t stop yourself from spilling your latest insecurities—the ones you’ve been holding onto ever since Chuck revealed himself as the villain of the whole world.

“I mean, what am I?” you ask. “Just the diversity casting in Chuck’s story?” 

“Don’t you say that shit to me,” Dean angrily snaps.

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.”

You feel how tense his body is, but your temper snaps just as well.

“Oye, mira ver,” you warn him.

You’ve levied that at him enough times that he knows all too well what it means. 

“Watch it, my ass,” he retorts. “You should know better than that.”

You frown at him, but he reads the thread of insecurity in the downturn of your lips, in your eyes that are starting to shine with tears. That always breaks him down.

Dean sighs and reaches for you then, cupping your cheek and brushing a thumb tenderly at the corner of your eye. He’s even angrier at Chuck for making you doubt yourself…and doubt him. 

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says.

You hesitate, but you go willingly back into his arms. You turn over and let him gather you against his chest. You rest against him. Your head tucks under his chin, and your leg slips between both of his.

“I love you,” he says, and his voice rumbles above your head. “That’s it. That’s all that matters.”

You bite your lip. “But—”

“No buts,” he says. Though his lips slowly tug at a smile. “Well, not that kind anyway.”

He gives your bare ass a playful squeeze under the sheets. You huff in amusement and swat him back.   

“Ya, coño. Enough,” you say with a laugh. “I probably have bruises back there.”

He just grins. “So you get what I’m saying?”

You let out a sigh. You push back enough to see his face, and you give him a soft smile.

“Yeah.”

Dean nods, but he still sees the worry in your eyes. He tries to stamp down the rest of your insecurities with a kiss, slow and deep.

You break away from him after a while to ask, “Ready for coffee?”

Dean sighs through his nose, but he hums in agreement.

“Will you make it how I like?” he asks.

A smile breaks across your face. 

“Café con leche?” you offer. 

He nods. “Yeah, please.” 

“So polite,” you remark with a raised brow. “What a change of pace.”

His mouth edges into a smirk. When you turn to get out of bed, he makes sure to give your ass one last smack. You jump a little with a yelp, but he catches your smile in the mirror above the dresser.  

Dean watches you shake out your curls and get ready for the day. You spend a lot of time blow-drying and straightening your hair, but he likes it like this too. Natural and wild. 

He likes that you wear the “dream catcher” (formerly known as your hole-ridden Journey shirt) a lot less. He likes that you’ve stopped feeling the need to wear anything to bed at all, if you don't feel like it; that you’re more comfortable with yourself. Comfortable with him.

But your smile drops. Dean sees the gears of your mind continuing to churn as you get dressed.

He has a feeling, despite his best efforts, that you’re still not convinced about the Chuck thing. And while Dean won’t admit it, that cuts him deep.   

Six years ago…

Las Cruces, New Mexico

The first time Dean met you was, of course, in a bar.

It didn’t take all that long for him to notice you, if he remembers right. 

You’d agreed to play pool with some guy who also speaks Spanish with you, and you seem genuinely into the game. So much so, that you don’t seem to notice how the guy is eyeing you. 

Dean doesn’t like the way the man’s gaze drags over your every abundant curve. Yeah, he’s been doing the same thing, but he likes to think he’s a little more classy about it.

He’s sitting at the bar with a half-drunk beer in his hand, watching the game out of the corner of his eye. He’s so invested that his beer is already flat and unpleasant, but when has that stopped him before?

…But then, Dean notices what you’re doing. You’re playing possum, making bad shots on purpose. His mouth curves behind his beer.

Little minx. 

Until you sweep the guy for all his money, that is. 

Dean watches the show in amusement. Secretly, he notes appreciation for the tight jeans, V-necked top and ankle boots. The red lipstick is the same shade as your manicured nails, and it all works well for you. The fullness of that pretty mouth would certainly work well for him.

He catches the way you sweep your hair out of the way, and the deceptive concentration in your eyes when you line up a shot on the second round. Your first turn.  

You then sink each of your cue balls expertly, without missing one. 

The swindled man gets mad, shouting at you in Spanish. You reply to him calmly as you lean on your cue stick. He gets even louder and reaches for the money, but before Dean would’ve intervened, you stab at the man’s foot with the cue. 

Your quick and clever hand gathers the money that you won, but because you seem to be kind at your core, you leave him thirty bucks for “gasolina” while he holds his foot. 

You surprise Dean further by joining him at the bar.

“Good game,” he says, giving you props with a smile.

You give him a smile back. “Thank you. Want to join me for another one?”

Your English is smooth, and so is your voice. Dean raises a brow at you.

“Even though I saw your little takedown there?” he asks. “Think I just saw all your moves.”

You laugh a little. “Not all of them.”

Was that a bit of flirtation in your eyes? Dean’s smile deepens into a smirk.

“But don’t worry,” you say. “I know how to play fair.”

He hits you with a bit of charm, lowering his voice with (he thinks) just the right amount of flirtation back.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Your smile deepens too, despite your blush.

Cute, he thinks, before he follows you back to the scene of the crime. AKA: the nearest pool table.

Dean wracks up the billiards and sets up a new game. You hand him his cue, and he gestures at you.

“Winner goes first,” he says graciously.

“Hmm, thought you were gonna say ladies first,” you reply.

“That too,” Dean says. “I’m a gentleman, after all.”

You snort in response. “I’m sure you are…”

“Dean,” he supplies. He earns your name by the time he sinks four balls in a row.

You sigh as you level him with a look. You seem to realize that the two of you are more than evenly matched.

“Don’t worry,” he says, shooting you a grin. “I won’t take all your money.”

And yet, when it gets down to it, he misses his last shot by a hair.

You watch him suspiciously when you two make it back to the bar.

“You wouldn’t have thrown that last shot on purpose, would you?” you ask.

Dean ducks his head and smiles, somewhat liking the fact that you caught him red-handed. You’re smart. 

“Now, what kind of gentleman would I be to take your ‘hard-earned’ cash?” he asks. It earns a burst of laughter from you, with the shine of your teeth.

“You could buy me a beer though,” he shrugs.

“Wow. Okay, Señor Smooth,” you tease. Though you get the bartender’s attention and get him a fifth of whiskey instead, of the good stuff too.

Dean considers asking you out right there. Sam is waiting back at the motel, but Dean is willing to book another room just to get you to himself for the night. And if possible, for however long he’s in town. 

“You know,” you say after a while, halfway through your Long Island iced tea. “The thing you’re hunting? It’s not a garden variety spirit…it’s El Duende. Creepy hobgoblin, basically. I’ve been tracking it from three cities over.”

Dean is figuratively (and almost literally) set back on his heels. He tilts his head at you, furrowing his brows.

“You’re a hunter?” he asks.

You laugh at the look on his face. “I saw you and another mountain man at the police station earlier…though nice look on the FBI get up. Think your ID guy could hook me up with a new CIA badge?”

Dean smiles. This is gonna be fun. 

Now: 

People were starting to disappear.

Billie, the new Death, was doing this. Dean was convinced. And Sam thought everyone from the Apocalypse world (and others who shouldn’t exist in this world) would be on her list. Ultimately, you all couldn’t save anyone. Not even Eileen. 

You and Dean both comforted Sam on that terrible night. Though he was still distraught as he decided to organize the other refugees with Jack and Donna. 

You stuck with Dean in his plan to raid Death’s library for Chuck’s book; the only thing in the world that told the story of how he would meet his end. 

You chose to back up Dean in his plan, but really, neither you or Castiel thought it was a good idea to poke the bear known as Billie. Not for a book that none of you could read, except for Death herself.

But now here you are, in Death’s library, watching with worry as Dean holds Death’s own scythe against her.

“I didn’t hurt your friends,” Billie grits out.

“What?” Dean asks.

She laughs humorlessly. “You’re in the wrong place, Dean.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“People are gettin’ gone. I’m guessing it’s Chuck,” she says. “And that means, you’re just wasting time.”

Her hands are braced against the weapon poised at her throat. She already has a stab wound in her shoulder. She tells him that the earlier wound he gave her has festered. It’ll never heal. Eventually, it’ll kill her.

But she intends to take you, Dean, and Castiel with her.

Billie becomes the hunter, following the three of you back through the portal into the bunker. Dean’s hand is so tight around your arm, making sure you’re keeping up with him and never falter. Castiel does his best get you and Dean to safety. And after he wards it against her with his own blood, only the old dungeon is safe for you all.

For now.

Billie pounds on the door, over and over. She’ll break through the warding eventually.

You grab onto Dean’s sleeve, just to hold onto him. He brings you close to him in a protective embrace. You see the panic in his eyes as his mind scrambles to find a way out of here, knowing deep down that there’s nothing any of you can do. Castiel is nearly powerless. You’re all trapped. 

“That wound is killing her,” Cas says. “We might be able to wait her out.”

His gaze is on the floor, though he briefly looks up at Dean. He shakes his head.

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we fight.”

Dean shakes his head. He pulls away from you to lean against the wall.

“We’ll lose,” he says. Your heart breaks at the way he looks, shame-ridden and defeated. “I just led us into another trap…all because I couldn’t end Chuck. Because I was angry, and because I needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”

His eyes are red and burning. Yours swim with tears of dismay. You want to correct him as he continues to vent, speaking with a certainty that it was Chuck all along.

Dean looks at you then, and at Cas. He’s close to tears when he says they should’ve stayed with Sam and Jack. That everyone was about to die. And he can’t stop it. And he can’t stop Billie when she breaks through that door.

You don’t know what to tell him to ease his guilt. All you know is that despite everything, you made your choice to support him in this. To stay with him. 

You made your choice a long time ago, you realize.

“Wait,” Cas says. His blue eyes burn with realization. “There’s one thing she’s afraid of. One thing…strong enough to stop her.”

Dean’s eyes widen. Cas uses what strength he has left to push you and Dean away, and he summons the Empty.

Dean pulls you further along with him as the formless void coils up like ink through the walls and cement floors. It drags Billie into its darkness, but it claims Castiel with it, as it once promised it would.

After the angel gives up his life, you and Dean are holding each other against the wall, on the ground, shaking and each rocked to the core.

You’re able to break out of your shock sooner than Dean, who just saw his best friend die.  

You kneel beside him while he sits, and you hold him to you while you cry. He can’t speak, but you know his guilt is eating at him.

His phone rings, startling you both, and it’s Sam. Dean can’t answer it. He covers his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if that could stop the ache in his chest. You press a kiss to his hair, his temple.

“He saved us, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you tell him. He shakes his head. You know he doesn’t believe you, but when he grasps your arm, his hold is desperate. 

“It’s me,” he says. His voice is shaking and ragged. “Everything I do turns to shit. Everyone around me pays the price. That’s just how it is…if you were smart, you’d hightail it as far as fucking possible from me.”

Your breath gets trapped in your lungs. Your heart feels like it’s shattering.

“Dean…baby, look at me,” you say with a sniffle. You gently hold his face, and he lets you raise him up. Your eyes are bright with new conviction.

“No one," you tell him, "not even Chuck can force me to love you the way I do. And not a damn thing can stop me from staying with you.”

Dean has tears burgeoning in his eyes. You caress his cheek, rough with stubble he’s let go too long.

“There’s a saying. Al mal tiempo, buena cara,” you tell him. His face shows a glimmer of confusion. “At bad weather, put on a happy face. It means even in difficult times, there’s still a reason to keep going. Right now, you are my reason.”

Dean considers that. He squeezes your arms unconsciously, as if grounding himself in you.

At the very least, he’s grateful that he’s not alone. And after a moment, he nods. You press a kiss to his cheek, and then his forehead. His eyes close at your comfort, your affection. He doesn’t think he deserves it, but he accepts it anyway.

“Come on, let’s get you off the floor,” you say. You start to help him up…but your body stills. You feel a strange prickling across your skin. 

Dean notices the shift, with growing unease in his gut. He grips you tighter and calls your name in concern.

Your gasp is the last bit of your voice that Dean hears before he watches you turn to dust in his arms.  

Buena Cara

Four years ago…

It’s the morning after you and Dean shared a midnight espresso. The morning after your first kiss, your first confession, and your first time.

He wakes tangled up in you, and the sheets, which are somehow tied up in knots around his legs and yours.

“What’d you do here, woman?” he asks.

His voice is still gruff with sleep, and he lays on his stomach. You giggle almost silently next to him. You’re lying on your back with the sheets somehow covering up to your chest. One of your legs is tangled with his.

“Nothing,” you claim. He snorts and moves closer. His lips find your shoulder, lazily burning a path downwards. But when he grips the sheet and tries to expose more of you, you grasp his wrist on reflex.

Brows furrowing, Dean glances up at your face. You’re biting your lip, and he sees signs of insecurity in your eyes.

“You haven’t seen me in the daytime yet,” you joke. Yet another one that isn’t really a joke, Dean realizes.

He really wishes he could find your goddamn ex and bash his skull in. Because Dean would like nothing more than to just spend the rest of the day in this bed, mapping out the smooth expanse of your tan skin.

So he slips his arm underneath you. You utter a little squeal in protest, but he manhandles you until you’re resting on his chest, bare skin against bare skin. You look down at him with fondness, touching his cheek. Dean stares up at you with a reserved frown.

“What’s it gonna take, huh?” he asks. It’s like you don’t believe he wants you, even now.

You bite your lip as your fears creep in behind your eyes, like black ink coiling in your mind. That he just likes your personality. That maybe he just wanted to try something “different” with you, a thicc-thighed, fat-assed Latina, instead of the petite, slender girls you’ve seen him go after in bars.

“You could have anyone, Dean,” you point out.

Dean’s frown deepens, his brows furrowing. His hands lower on your back, squeezing the curve of your waist and soft hips.

“Anyone’s not naked in my bed,” he says. His voice is stern and matter-of-fact.

You attempt a smile, but he’s not convinced. He blows out a breath and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Your ex sure did a number on you, didn’t he?” he remarks. 

Your eyes widen. The more you think about it, maybe he did.

But maybe it wasn’t just him…

You tear up and blink against them, trying not to let them fall. You had thought you were happy with your curves. You really did.

You didn’t realize you had internalized so many of these negative thoughts about yourself, but here Dean was, forcing you to confront them. You’re grateful, but you also don’t know what to say.

Dean’s brows draw together. He holds your cheek. 

“Okay. It’s all right. We’ll work on it.” He kisses your forehead. He also wipes a tear from your cheek. “Don’t cry, baby.”

A laugh gets choked in your throat. “You should know this about me by now. I’m a crier.”

“Yeah, you’re also rockin’ a bit of sex hair,” he says, tangling his fingers further in the wily strands. “My kinda woman.”

You sigh through your nose. This man.

You can’t help but smile softly. The tip of your finger traces his jawline, down to his chin.

“Want me to make some coffee?” you offer. “I can have you try a cortadito with breakfast.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Two shots of espresso, warm frothy milk on top,” you reply. 

“God, two shots? It’s a wonder you ever sleep,” he quips. “But I do like the sound of frothy. I’ll whip us up some eggs.”

“And bacon?” you ask.

“Of freakin’ course, bacon.”

With that agreement, you two slowly get out of bed, shower, and go to the kitchen, where Sam looks bleary-eyed and annoyed at the kitchen table with his coffee mug. But he doesn’t have it in his heart to truly be mad at you and Dean. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” Sam says wryly. “Just, next time, put a sock on the door or something. So I know when to break out the ear plugs.”

Now:

Sam finds Dean sprawled on the dining room floor the next morning after Castiel has died, and you have disappeared, along with everyone else on Earth. 

Dean is surrounded by empty beer and liquor bottles. Sam’s heart clenches as he starts to help his brother.

“All right, let’s get you off the floor,” he says. 

In his words, Dean only hears your voice. He shoves Sam off him and stumbles into the kitchen.

There Jack is starting to wash dishes. He takes your little cafetera coffee maker from the stove, preparing to dump the old grounds. Dean grabs it out of his hand.

“Leave it alone,” Dean snaps. He slams it back on the stove where you left it. 

Jack is wide-eyed, but Sam gives his brother a patient warning with his eyes. Dean ignores it and heads for his room.

“Sorry,” Sam says on behalf of his brother. 

Jack shakes his head with tears in his eyes. “It’s okay, I…I understand.” 

He already misses you too. You’d become a kind of older sister to him…and Castiel. Well. Cas was the father Jack will never have again.  

Sam agrees with a nod, clapping Jack comfortingly on the back. 

Sam ventures down the long halls of the bunker to Dean’s room. He pushes the cracked open door, and sees his brother sat hunched on the edge of his bed, hands bracing on his knees.

Sam walks in, swings Dean’s desk chair around, and sits down across from his brother. He rests his forearms on his knees and waits. 

When Dean eventually looks up with red-rimmed eyes, Sam’s heart breaks a little more. For Dean, and for himself.

“We’re going to end this,” Sam promises him.

“We tried to give Chuck what he fucking wanted,” Dean reminds. “We offered to end ourselves, man. He wouldn’t bite. He won’t bring ‘em back.”

Dean’s voice cracks at the end there. Sam takes a deep breath, and lets it out just as slowly.

“We’ll figure out a way,” he says. “We always do.”

“That’s just it,” Dean says, with tired, glassy eyes. “I don’t think we can do it this time.”

Sam’s throat tightens. “Then I’ll believe for both of us.” 

By the time Chuck is done snapping his fingers, Sam, Dean, and Jack are the only people left on Earth.

Until they encounter the Michael of this world, formerly trapped in the cage. They hatch a plan. And even though the angels don’t cooperate, they manage to play straight into the real plan.

Jack is the ace up Team Free Will’s sleeve, and as it turns out, that bomb inside the kid (made of the first Adam’s rib) was good for something. The nephilim absorbs the power of Lucifer, Michael, and ultimately Chuck himself. 

Jack is the one who saves the world. 

Before Dean leaves with his brother and Jack, away from that grassy cliffside in Lebanon, he turns to Chuck.

“Answer me this. Did you…” Dean says, struggling with how to formulate his question. “Meeting my girl. Was that us? Or was it just another manipulation?”

Sam watches his brother with concern. He sees the way Dean’s hand is already itching for his gun. Chuck is human now, and Sam knows how tempting it would be to truly end it.

Chuck himself is still prone on the ground, sitting up with wariness behind his eyes.

“I didn’t tug on that thread, actually,” he admits. “Made sense to let you have a glimmer of happiness, something to hold onto. To fight for.”

Then he looks up at Dean with a tremulous smirk pulling at his lips.

“But I did wait for the perfect moment to dust her, didn’t I?”

Within seconds, Dean’s gun is slipping into his hands with the safety cocked back, the barrel lined up for a straight shot between Chuck’s eyes. Sam barks a warning, but Dean doesn’t altogether care. He’s furious, sneering at the former god who cowers like the coward he is.

“Dean?” Sam calls to him. It’s a question and a warning all at once.

Dean’s mouth works, quirking at a humorless smile. He cocks the safety back in place and lowers his gun with a shaking hand.

He stalks back to the Impala and doesn’t look at his brother.

The only three people left alive in the world ride back into the empty streets of Lebanon, Kansas.

When Jack snaps his fingers, it’s like this little planet is reborn. 

Suddenly, it’s filled with life. People walking their dogs, their kids, hailing cabs, nearly rear-ending each other’s cars in traffic while texting. It’s like the chaos never happened, and equilibrium is restored.

Even the shaggy dog Dean found last week bounds up to him. He bends down to pet the dog’s furry head, scratching behind his ears. Dean’s going to actually have to come up with a name for this thing now. 

And yet…

In a world full of color, Dean still just sees gray. 

He and Sam say a bittersweet goodbye to Jack, who ascends into Heaven. Dean can only hope the kid has a good WiFi signal if they ever need him again, like if he can’t find…

The forgotten cell phone in his pocket buzzes on a ring. He shares a wide-eyed look with Sam, licking his dry lips before he reaches into his jean pocket. He flips the phone over and finds your name across his caller ID.

With a shaking hand, he swipes his thumb across the green button and raises the phone up to his ear. He can’t even make his voice work right away. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to.

“Dean?” your beautiful voice greets him. 

His lips pull at a tremulous smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You let out a relieved breath. 

“Oh, thank God. I’m here at the bunker. Where are you?”

Dean wants to quip that Chuck had nothing to do with it, but he humors you. 

“Not too far,” he says. He gestures to a smiling Sam, and together they haul ass back to the Impala. 

“Promise?” you ask. Dean grins.

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

Once again, you’re tangled up in the bed you share with Dean. Almost every morning without fail, he teasingly grumbles as he tries to free his legs from the knotted sheets. 

“What the hell did you do here, woman?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” you refute. Though your giggle betrays your guilt while he continues to struggle. “You’ll just have to stay in bed then.”

You drag him back to you, and it’s not unpleasant to be welcomed back to the soft warmth of your body. 

“We’ve got some monsters waiting,” he reminds you. 

“They can wait,” you say, and ply him with a lazy morning kiss. It heats up in passion as your hands slide under his shirt… 

But of course, one of said “monsters” predictably starts banging at the bedroom door. It opens a crack, revealing a head of light brown hair and tearful hazel eyes. 

“Mo-oooom! Cari keeps hitting me after you told her not to,” cries your son. 

His older sister stomps behind him, so he ducks into the room to flee from her, heading for the bed and jumping into your arms. 

Dean sighs, hiding his disappointment. You give him a secret smile while brushing back your son’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. To Dean, you gesture with your eyes at the doorway, where your nine-year-old daughter peeks in. She eyes her little brother in annoyance. 

Tattletale, her face says. 

“Caridad,” you call to her in your sterner mom voice. “Come here, please.” 

Cari is most definitely a daddy’s girl, and she beelines for her father. He picks up the nine year old and settles her on the bed, tucked into his side. 

“Robbie’s a crybaby,” she says. 

“No, you are!” Robbie cries indignantly. He tries to push her, but you grab his hand and push it down to the bed. Dean has to do the same with Cari when she tries to pinch her brother.

“All right, all right, enough,” Dean says, with all the authority his own father once had. “Can’t we all just have one morning in peace?”

That’s when Dean’s phone rings on his nightstand. He sighs and answers it, and it’s Sam, asking what time you and Dean plan to come over his house today for the Fourth of July barbecue.

“Give me a couple hours to wrangle the kids,” Dean replies. He has to curl an arm around Cari so she won’t throw another pillow at her brother. 

“Tell Eileen I’m bringing the dessert,” you chime in, calling to Sam in the phone. 

“You got that?” Dean asks his brother. A moment later, he reports back to you with a nod.

“He’s wanting the fluffy cake thing,” Dean says. “The sweet one with the lil’ cherries on top.”

“Tres leches?” you supply with a smile. 

He nods again. “Yeah, that one.” 

“Not a problem, but let’s get them cleaned up so I can start baking,” you say. Though you grunt as a small bare foot kicks at your side.

“Hey!” you reach for your daughter’s arm. “Ya, that’s enough. Te calmas, o te calmo. Los dos, coño.” 

Dean snorts, watching his children now wrestling each other in the middle of the bed despite your best efforts to keep them apart. 

“Easier said than done,” he mutters. He hangs up with Sam and then surveys the familiar chaos in front of him. 

“All right, you guys want to see your cousins?” Dean bribes. The kids actually pause and perk up at that. 

“We’re going to Uncle Sammy’s house?” Cari asks.

“Yep, so quit screwin’ around. Let’s up and at ‘em,” Dean says. “Brush your teeth and wash your face, then meet me downstairs for breakfast.”

“Can we have Cap’n Crunch?” Robbie asks.  

“No, Raisin Bran,” Cari insists. You have to laugh a little, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Your daughter surely is a special sort of child for genuinely liking Raisin Bran. 

“Fine,” Dean agrees to both with a nod. “Get to it. Come on, let’s go!”

He claps his hands until the kids are up and out of his bed, running to the door. 

“Don’t run!” you warn them. “Caridad Marie Winchester, stop pushing your brother, or you’re not going anywhere.”

The door hangs open as the sounds of small feet patter down the hall, accompanied by childish giggling and yelling. You sigh and lean back into the pillows, closing your eyes. 

“I’m already tired. Why did we have two of those?” 

Dean smirks and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. You keep him close with a hand in his shirt. 

“If I remember right, having the first one was so much fun, you just couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he teases.

“Is that what happened? I seem to remember some tequila and cajoling involved,” you smirk, cracking your eyes open. You pull him to you and kiss him thoroughly. 

Both of you try not to lose track of time, but in the ten years since retiring from hunting, learning how to be civilians, true partners, and parents, you’ve become pros at stealing the small moments for yourselves. 

“Come on, babe. Don’t you want Cari to have a little bro?” you mock in his deeper voice. “They’ll protect each other, be each other’s best friends.”

Dean chuckles at your interpretation of him, giving a teasing yank to one of your stray curls. 

“They will, one day. Sam and I didn’t really get each other until later on.”

You smile at that and raise your hand to the beard he’s trying to grow out. You remember him teasing Sam for sporting a “ferret” on his face, once upon a time. But it seems that both Winchester brothers are well-suited to the lumberjack look. 

“Maybe we can get Sam and Eileen to keep the kids tonight,” Dean suggests.

You like the sound of that. Cari and Robbie take any chance for a sleepover with their cousins.

You run a hand down his chest. “You’re saying I’m going to get all this to myself tonight?”

He grabs your hand and kisses it. His gaze holds a familiar heat that makes you smile. Your fingers wiggle teasingly in his grip, which curves his lips as well. Your wedding rings gleam in the lamplight.

We don’t have time now, but we will later, his gaze promises. 

So with a sigh, he releases your hand. 

“All right, lazy. Time to get a move on,” he teases. He then points at you. “Good face.”

Buena cara. Your smile deepens as you start to rise out of bed. It’s become his thing with you, starting the day with a good face. 

Nowadays, you don’t often have a reason not to. 

“I’ll make coffee,” you offer, as you do most mornings. The one time Dean tried to make it your way, he burned the bottom of your coffee press. 

He tosses you a smirk as he pulls on a new shirt. He then digs in his side of the dresser for a pair of jeans that don’t have jelly stains, imprinted on with small fingers. 

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he agrees. “I think today’s a two-shot kinda morning. What do you think?”

You sidle up behind him at the dresser and swat him on the ass. He jolts a little, making a rumbling sound as he eyes you in your little black nightgown. It’s a warning, not to start something you two won’t have time to finish.

“Sounds about right.” Bracing your hands on his hips, you lean up on your toes so you can rest your chin on his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. You smile.

“Two cortaditos coming up.”

AN: Aaaand I am soft. 🥹 I've been wanting to get to this for a while now. If you like it, let me know! ❤️

Some more Spanish translations for ya:

This is a callback from "Devour Me" with “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez.

Devórame otra vez, ven, devórame otra vez… Que la boca me sabe a tu cuerpo. Desesperan mis ganas por ti…

Translation:

"Devour me again. Come, devour me again…

Because my mouth has the taste of your body. My lust for you is exasperating."

“Te calmas, o te calmo. Los dos, coño.”

Translation:

“Calm down, or I’ll calm you down. Both of you, damn it.” [😂 I think every Latina mom has spouted this at least once lol.]

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is “Dream With Me.” It's set in the time gap in this story. Specifically, in 15x20:

Summary: When your ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. (AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.)

▶️ Next Story: Dream With Me (PART 1)

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[harlowsbby]

Love Sick

- It’s a good thing the two of you broke up. - Annie.

- I agree with Annie, now you can focus on yourself! - Maddie

- he was an asshole anyways! he didn’t even try to fight for you! - Megan

You rolled your eyes as you finished reading a few messages you had gotten from your friends. Tossing your phone somewhere on your bed you rolled yourself up in your covers and sighed.

You missed Jack and you missed him dearly, even though you knew deep down that this breakup with him might’ve been the best move you couldn’t help but to feel as if it wasn’t.

You haven’t seen him since you left Louisville that night, but you figured he left you with no choice right? He didn’t bother coming back home that night so you took that as his answer.

You knew all the two of you needed was a single conversation and maybe just a little motivation but as of right now you were going on your first week without him, and truthfully you missed him.

Just as you were about to close your eyes and try and sleep away the heartache your phone started buzzing again.

“Fuck what do they want now.” You groaned and unraveled yourself from your blankets and went to get your phone to place it on dnd till you saw who the message was from.

Urban

- you down to fly out to Louisville?

————— —— time skip———————-

“Jack, dude get up! You look like someone who just got their heartbroken or some shit.” Ace told Jack which caused Urban to elbow him into the side.

“Ouch, what the hell was that for?” Ace groaned and held his side.

“He did get his heartbroken you dummy he just needs to go through all the different types of emotions I guess.” Urban said.

Jack hasn’t been doing all that well ever since the two of you broke up, he knew just leaving you that night was wrong on his end but he didn’t know what to do, he was tired of the fussing and fighting.

“Can you two just let me be? Let me be heartbroken in peace.” He groaned and pulled the blanket back over himself.

“Sorry but we can’t do that, tonight is the last show for No Place Like Home Tour so I need you to get up and go get ready for rehearsals dude.” Urban sternly stated.

Urban hated seeing Jack like this and he hated that Jack had to push his feelings to the side, but he had one last show to put on.

“What if I just cancel tonight? And give all the fans their money back yeah I think that’s a good idea.” Ace rolled his eyes. “The Jack I know wouldn’t do that, you hate letting your fans down so get up and let’s go.”

Jack knew they were right the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his fans that traveled long and far to see him.

“Fine, but after tonight just let me listen to my Drake and be heartbroken in peace?” Ace laughed. “Whatever you say boss.” Ace and Jack walked outside to the sprinter, Urban had told them that he’d be out there in a second.

Urban did a double look around making sure everyone was gone before taking out his phone and texting you.

Y/N

- you down to fly out to Louisville?

Not even a few seconds after he sent the message you had texted him back.

Y/N

- call me…

He looked around once more and once he saw the coast was clear he called you. “Urban? Why do you want me to fly out to Louisville?”

“Jack misses you okay and I know you miss him.”

“But we broke up Urban I don’t think I should fly out there, nothing is going to change.” He huffed.

“You don’t know unless you try I want the two of you to talk and figure things out, please I need my friends back together.”

You bit your lip and thought about it, maybe if the two of you did talk it out maybe just maybe someone good could benefit from tonight.

“Alright fine just let me know where to meet you at.”

“At his show tonight I’ll let security know you’re coming in.” You nodded your head even though he wouldn’t be able to see you. “I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll see you soon Urban.” You hung up the phone and flopped back into your bed.

“What am I getting myself into.” You mumbled to yourself.

———————time skip———————

The entire plane ride you were on ten, your nerves we’re all over the place and your anxiety was on hundred.

You tried distracting yourself by playing games on your phone or taking a little nap here and there but your mind kept drifting off to the last time you spoke to Jack.

Flashback.

“Talk to me Y/N.” You continued to ignore him causing Jack to sigh.

“Can we act like adults here and talk? This whole ignoring me game is childish as hell Y/N.”

“What do you want to talk about? Because every time I wanted to talk you just brushed me off and acted like you couldn’t be bothered.” You spat.

“Please let’s just talk I wanna resolve this.” You chuckled bitterly. “Okay so who is she? Because what from I’m hearing you’re everywhere with her.”

Lately Jack has been going out super later and coming home super later and of course it was starting to worry you. You’ve been cheated on before and you’d be dammed if you stuck around and allowed yourself to be cheated on again.

Instead of waiting around the house all day you decided to follow Jack to see where he’d be, just to find him having some sort of dinner or lunch with his supposedly ‘long time friend’

“She’s a friend I knew from high school and we’re just catching up on lost time.” You rolled your eyes.

“If that’s the case why couldn’t you tell me about her? Why do you have to sneak around.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.” You chuckled dryly.

“Not that big of a deal? You know what I’ve been through before and I’m your girlfriend so what makes you think this isn’t a big deal.” You yelled out.

“See this is why I have to sneak around behind your back because you make everything into a big deal, maybe if you weren’t so insecure within yourself I wouldn’t have to keep shit private.” He spat.

“What did you say?” You spoke your voice barley above a whisper. “I said maybe if you weren’t so insecure I wouldn’t have to keep shit from you.” He repeated again without hesitation.

“Maybe if I’m so damn insecure you should just leave then, I wouldn’t want you to be with someone who was insecure.”

You expected for Jack to come over to you and to apologize and make things right but he didn’t, he did the complete opposite.

“Maybe you’re right I think that is for the best.” And that was the last time you saw him.

Flashback over.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.” The flight attendant smiled at you and brought you out of your daze.

“Oh right I’m sorry.” You quickly apologized and got up and grabbed your bags. You sent Urban a text letting him know you just landed.

He sent you a text back letting you know to just have the driver take you to the arena and he’ll have security waiting in the back to take your bags to the hotel.

“Here goes nothing.” You sighed and leaned back into the seat of the car, the entire car ride there you couldn’t help but to think about what was going to happen or what was going to be said.

“Jack let’s go it’s time!” Nemo told him and Jack made his way to the back of the stage.

Jack was trying to focus on tonight being a good night but he missed you and wanted you here with him, he felt guilty the way things ended with the two of you.

“You ready?” Urban told him and Jack gave him a half smile. “Not really but shows gotta go on right?”

Urban so baldy wanted to tell Jack that you were here and that tonight was going to end well but he had to keep it a secret.

“By tonight I’m sure you’ll be in a better mood.” Jack rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt it but come on let’s get tonight over with.”

After the show Jack made his way backstage to where everyone cheered and congratulated him on a great tour.

He was thankful for everyone in the room but all he wanted to do was get back to the hotel.

“Where are you going so fast?” He stopped walking when he heard that familiar voice. Turning around he was met by you.

“Y/N?” He whispered as if he was dreaming. You smiled and nodded your head. “Hi Jack.” Before you were able to say anything else he was making his way towards you and pulling you into his embrace.

“I fucking missed you so much you have no idea.” He spoke, a few tears forming in his eyes.

“I missed you too Jack, I’m sorry for ever doubting you, Maggie told me that your friend well let’s just say she doesn’t exactly like guys.” Jack laughed and pulled back from you.

“I’m sorry for what I said it was wrong of me, forgive me?”

“I’ll forgive you under one condition?” He grinned. “What condition is that?” You smirked which caused Jack to have a look of worry.

————————————————————————

“And your total will be $300 dollar and 34 cents.” The cashier smiled up at Jack who had a frown displayed on his face.

“Are you sure it’s that much? I mean what the hell did you even buy babe.” Jack asked and looked down at your small Sephora bag.

“I only got the necessities babe.” You told him even though you knew full on well you were lying through your teeth.

“Fine, here you go.” Jack handed the lady the card and she swiped it without any hesitation. Once she handed Jack his card back the two of you were out the store.

“So where are we going now?” You asked him as you looked around all the different shops at the mall, you looked like a kid in a candy store.

“What? I thought we were done baby?” He panicky asked. “Done?” You huffed. “You broke my heart remember? You owe me a shopping spree.”

Jack groaned as you dragged him along he knew by the end of the day that his feet along with his bank account was going to be hurting.

(Idk about this 😭 I rewrote this about three times but I hope you all enjoy it!)

(Also idk how to make gifs so I just added a piece from the music video 🧍🏽‍♀️😭)

[kissami]

☄︎. *. ⋆ PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME SO ALONE •°. *࿐

➵ in which cloud needed a reality check before it’s too late.

➵fem!reader with she/her pronouns!

➵ warnings: OOC cloud ??? jealously, mentions of aerith and zack, NOT PROOF READ BECAUSE IM LAZY LOL

‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ‎ Pearls~ Sade

‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 0:20 〇────── 4:33

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‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀‎ ‎ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Cloud never felt such confusion and heartache until this very moment that he was sitting in Seventh Heaven, drinking to his heart content.

Why did she leave me so alone?

He felt his hand itch towards his pocket, his phone that had her picture as his lock screen that he remembered taking when the two left Midgard for a small trip to watch the stars for the first time, had showed no notifications from anyone.

I miss her.

He thought as he chugged down the last remaining sips of his drink. He looked up, making eye contact with Tifa, his eyes pleading for another.

“I’m cutting you off tonight, Cloud. I can’t stand seeing you mope around like this anymore. You need to talk to her.”

He wanted to stubbornly say no and say he would do it later, that he just wanted to relax and drink to really think of what to do, but he knew she deserved better.

A better explanation, a better boyfriend even. But he was selfish. He was so selfish to leave the way he did and still wanting her back in his arms right after.

“I…I can’t…she hates me.” He whispered, playing with the red string on his arm as it seemed rather interesting now that his best friend had her attention on him.

“You know [Y/N] better than all of us, Cloud. You know she would never hate you no matter what you do. Bless that girls heart because she has more patience than anyone I’ve known.”

Cloud knew she was right, tifa always was as annoying as it was.

But yet, he still felt embarrassed, insecure, and scared that if he went back home, this would be it, that this was the end of the two.

“[Y/N] told me what you did. You’re a mean loser who deserves to sleep on the streets tonight.” Yuffie huffed as she juggled around three materia orbs in her small hands.

“I didn’t mean it.” He tried to explain, but his friends glances were all he needed to know to really fix things up before everything became worse.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t meet you so soon after her.”

He felt his chest ache and his eyes burn as he remembered those veil words escape his mouth earlier that day.

The two were arguing about god knows what, it was a pointless argument but you were so head on to stay talking about the situation instead of walking away like he would do, you really wanted to resolve this.

But he wouldn’t listen and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

You rather a brick wall than having to hear that sentence leave his lips.

You rather not ever hear a response from him again than ever feel the way you did the moment he yelled at you the way he did.

“For what it’s worth, Cloud. Y/N, truly loves you. Nothing would ever make her hate you, no matter how much sometimes we wish she did…maybe there would be someone who would truly love and appreciate her kindness.” Tifa bit her lip at Reno’s sincere words, everyone knew he what he said was honest from his heart.

Cloud knew it as well, which made him clench his jaw even harder.

Yuffie groaned, glaring at the red head as he shrugged, but everyone knew why he was pushing Cloud this way.

‘Just a little closer to the edge and he’ll jump.’

“I wonder how Zack would react with you crushing not only on his dead girlfriend, but being so hung up on her that you’re abandoning your own. I’d be embarrassed to even be mentioned in the same sentence if I were him.”

“You bastard!” Tifa made a small squeak as all the drinks on the bar were splashed away, a frail body now taking their places as the blond held a deathly grip on the turk’s neck.

“Cloud!” Everyone yelled, trying to get his steel grip on Reno off, but he wasn’t giving up just yet.

“Hurts doesn’t it? Words cloud, words hurt.” The two stared at each other, trying to beat the other from the harsh glares the two were piercing one another with. Usually Reno would back off rather quickly, joking around how serious Cloud looked.

But cloud was the one to look away this time. No words came from him as he picked up his buster sword, ignoring everyone’s concerned looks as he walked out of Seventh Heaven and into the cold night.

He grimaced as he saw his apartment that he lived with his girlfriend up ahead. No lights shinning like they usually would, the curtains drawn and no noises were heard. You could hear a pen drop from how quiet it was.

That scared him.

Cloud quickly unlocked the door, frowning as it already was unlocked when he knew [Y/N] and how she’d always lock the door after she came in or out, paranoid of the possibilities that could happen.

He almost lost his balance as he saw all of her clothes thrown all over the place, her shoes in the mix as well.

He walked slowly, gripping his sword tightly and made his way to their shared room. He couldn’t think straight, scared something or someone had taken her away from him once again.

But he felt a sense of relief when he heard sobs and sniffles coming inside yet his heart was aching at the same time.

Knocking on the the door slowly, Cloud felt his heart beat going faster than usual, hearing the way it gotten quiet all of a sudden.

“Go away, asshole.”

Ignoring her words, Cloud opened the door gently, his eyes immediately falling on her form that was sitting next to the window, the moon looming over her as her crystal like tears illuminated in the moonlight.

She looked so pretty when she cries.

Cloud placed his things down, making his way over. He felt his hands begin to shake as he gently picked her up and placed her on his lap.

A tight yet soft grip was launched onto her waist when she tried getting up, but to no luck she was staying put.

“Please just listen to me, okay? I want to apologize to you, baby.” He placed his cheek onto hers, feeling the tears that streamed down her face onto his as he held her and he continued.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for saying such hurtful things. I’m so glad I met you when I did. I said that out of anger, out of frustration and you didn’t deserve that. It was so wrong of me.”

He felt his own tears brim his eyes as he spoke and felt her form pausing as she took everything in.

“What Aerith and I had…it’s over and done with. Even if she…even if she was alive right now, deep in my heart I know I’d still fall for you. I’d go through that pain all over again just to be able to see a glance of you for just a second even if it meant you’d never would’ve been mine. You make everything worth fighting for and I’m so sorry.”

No words were spoken for a good while, but Cloud cried as he felt her sob in his neck, wrapping her arms around him as she faced his front in the chair they both sat on.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“I know baby, I know I am.” He moved her hair out of the way as he looked deep in her eyes, taking every crevice on her pretty face that he would never get tired of looking at.

“I love you, so much. Please don’t hate me.” A soft chuckle escaped her mouth and her head shook in disagreement.

“I could never hate you, Cloud. No matter the circumstances I could and never will hate you.”