#actually stripping the sheets/blankets and putting those back on is fine but it's the pillows stuffed animals and bullshit i hate

[bunnyb34r]

They should make something that makes the bed for me bc this shit takes an hour and I'm not even joking 😪

[quickdeaths]

SLEEP MEME

Type of bed: As a child, Shinobu slept in a futon in her parents’ room for a while, and eventually migrated to a futon in her brother’s room. When he moved out, she inherited his bed (a Japanese Single – roughly equivalent to an American Twin) and has kept it ever since. It’s very utilitarian, with a fairly standard frame, dark sheets, and generally un-flashy energy. It’s a place to sleep (sometimes) and little more than that.

Number of blankets: Depends on the temperature. Tokyo is a pretty warm place, and for as difficult as Shinobu finds it to sleep, they find it even more difficult if they’re overheating. Typically, she’s going to just be using the top sheet and that’ll be enough, or paired with a thin comforter on colder nights. Seldom is it cold enough to warrant something more, although neither will she object to a third layer at those rare colder times, so long as it’s not too heavy.

Number of pillows: Typically two. One for her head, and one for her upper back/neck so that she can comfortably read in bed. When actually trying to sleep, they’ll adjust the positioning a little bit, with one stacked atop the other at a bit of an angle. If she had a firmer, larger, generally higher-quality pillow, it probably wouldn’t be an issue, but as it is, one pillow is liable to give her a stiff neck in the morning. She needs that bit of elevation.

Type of clothing: If Shinobu gets back home late, or especially exhausted, she’s likely to strip down to just her underwear and an undershirt, neatly put her clothes away, and then collapse. If there’s a little more preparation involved, or they’re with another person, they’ll likely wear a sleep shirt as well as a pair of shorts. She could use a pair of fine pajamas, but it isn’t the sort of thing she’d buy for herself, so shirt + shorts it is. Anzu is insistent upon the value of fuzzy socks, but so far, Shinobu remains unconvinced.

Does it matter where they sleep?: Not really. Certainly she’s most comfortable in her bed, but she’s a difficult sleeper no matter where she is. Good sleep is rather hard to come by whether it’s in her bed, in a futon, or in a chair. If she’s sufficiently tired, she can sleep anywhere, although it’ll be unpleasant. As someone who travels fairly frequently for competitions, they’ve also gotten good (as good as anyone can be, at least) at sleeping on planes or trains, though it’s hardly enjoyed.

What do they do if they cannot fall asleep?: Oh, any number of things. The most likely thing is to read a book – her personal library is within arm’s reach of her bed, so it’s no trouble to turn the lamp to ‘dim’ and grab something. If that’s not an option, or there’s nothing that catches her interest, she’ll probably leave home. Her father is a heavy sleeper, when he’s around, so it’s easy enough to leave her room, climb down the balcony outside, and then use a small ladder to climb over the estate walls. From there, she might simply go for a walk, or go to a convenience store for something to eat or drink (including coffee, which certainly doesn’t help her difficulty sleeping).

There’s a university library close enough as well – for general public and high school students, it has defined hours, but it’s open 24/7/365 for university students. Shinobu has pulled some strings with her HPA connections to have an honorary university student ID that doesn’t give her university privileges when it comes to checking things out, but does allow her access to the library outside of usual hours. She might read, or use the computers to study or look things up. It’s not uncommon for Shinobu to stay at the library all night, and they have a small storage locker near the train station that they keep clean clothes in for such events, rather than return home.

If she really doesn’t feel like leaving or reading, there are a few things she might do. If her sketchbook is upstairs, she might take a pen and do some sketching if there’s something in particular she’d like to draw. Training is usually not worth it at that hour, between the necessary time for her muscles to relax, plus needing to change clothes and trek out to the dojo, but it’s an option. There’s also always ‘staring at the ceiling and thinking about the crippling pressure to succeed and the need to abandon all humanity and personal needs in favor of properly achieving her purpose as the vessel for the Yaguchi Dojo’s ambitions.’

Frequent dreams, nightmares: Shinobu seldom remembers either. As she tells it, she lacks the creativity required for particularly compelling sleep narratives. As it actually is, she’s probably just too exhausted and stressed and busy most of the time to bother remembering anything that happens when she’s supposed to be resting. Post-despair, of course, brings with it fairly constant nightmares – of Anzu’s death, of Seiko’s death (in all the ways it could have happened, since she doesn’t know), of regrets about how she handled things and how things might have been different. Even good dreams feel like nightmares, since they’re just so obviously fake, to the extent that Shinobu feels trapped inside them. In non-despair, they probably start having nicer dreams eventually, though.

Deep slumber or naps? Deep slumber, when she can get it. Shinobu is far too busy most of the time for naps. There’s just not often a time between school, training, dates, and other obligations to get sleep in the middle of the day. “Night sleep” is the only time she can sleep, and given the choice, she’d prefer it to be easy, deep, and undisturbed. In practice, she occasionally naps in her lab or on the train without meaning to, simply due to sheer exhaustion. If she's around to witness it, Anzu will protect the rare, precious, napping Shinobu with someone else's life (not her own life but, you know, someone's.)

When do they sleep? Somewhere around midnight, or just after. Past 1 is usually a sign that it’s going to be a rough sleep night, with potentially no sleep at all. They get up pretty early in the morning – usually around 5 or 6, in order to eat and get some light exercise in before school – so they don’t like to stay up exceptionally late. Eventually, she probably shifts her entire schedule forward a couple hours, staying up until 2 or even 3 in the morning, but sleeping in later. Really, she’s not a much of a morning person (this is partially why she drinks so much coffee).

What could wake them up? Too much sunlight, a particularly loud alarm, Anzu, her father’s footsteps coming up the stairs (he only comes upstairs when there’s some kind of problem, and his steps are loud). More pleasantly, the gentle rousing of a romantic partner, or only a little bit of sunlight peeking through the blinds, or just “having enough sleep to not need any more” (truly, the rarest occurrence).

Tagged by: @more-than-a-princess (thank you!!!)

Tagging: @ofsavior @foraltruism @thenextbestidol @kirakiras @wouldhope @handbittcn @wxtchpilot @chibitantei @aquaticpearl @fatexbound

[sinner-as-saint]

Crawling Back To You.

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Bucky Barnes had a lot on his plate at the moment. Regrets, fears, nightmares and desperately trying to do the right things to make up for his past as the Winter Soldier. Amongst those things, barely anything made him truly happy, or safe or loved. None did actually - except for you. He met you at a bar once and since then, you’ve been his sanctuary. You both knew he wasn’t quite ready to be in a relationship, yet you were always there with open arms whenever he needed a friend, a shoulder to lean on, or someone to help him take his mind off things. Be it a nightmare, or memories from the past coming to haunt him, or any major or minor inconvenience, the super soldier would find himself turning to you for help. 

Themes: angst, fluff, smut

He woke up on the floor, covered in cold sweat. 

The flashbacks of the nightmares kept resurfacing until it finally faded again. Faded, not truly gone because he knew they’d be back tomorrow again - his past coming to haunt him. He sighed and squinted at the screen in front of him. 

The T.V was on, playing reruns of a show he did not care about. He simply needed the noise to help him fall asleep. The quiet and silence was his own personal hell, so he always needed some sort of background noise to help him out. 

Bucky tried getting some sleep again; tossing and turning on the wooden flooring but he couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was racing, too many thoughts at once. He checked the time, the clock read 1 a.m. He could go on a run, but he didn’t really feel like it. He could go to the gym, but he didn’t feel like working out either. 

He needed something. An escape, a friend. You, he needed you. 

Bucky reached for his phone, and a few taps later he was calling you. He knew it was late but you somehow always picked up his calls no matter what the time was. The rings later, he heard your voice speak up from the other end. 

“Buck?” You sounded sleepy, but not like he had woken you up, you sounded like you were about to fall asleep. 

He closed his eyes and sighed at the sound of your voice. He could picture you, all tucked in your comfy bed, surrounded by pillows and your soft blankets. Perhaps you had lost track of time because of a good book, or perhaps you were up late responding to emails for work. 

“Hey doll. Did I wake you up?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of his living room, his legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Only sometimes did he feel like he was taking advantage of your kindness, but then again he could be selfish when it came to you. You were his, and that’s that. 

You let out a little laugh. “Of course not, Bucky. I was just finishing up some work.” He could hear your sheets shuffling, “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?” you asked, softly. 

Bucky told you he did. Then he went on to tell you exactly what he had dreamt of. Sometimes he felt like he was opening up more to you than his shrink. But truth is, you made him feel like he was more than just a broken soldier, or a problem who needed to be remedied or fixed. You made him feel like he was human after all. 

“I… I’m trying to fall back asleep but…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say it, you understood perfectly. He knew you did. 

Then he heard his favorite words coming from you, “Come over Buck, I’m waiting.” 

He wasted no time in getting up from the floor and getting dressed. Dark jeans, shirt, jacket and not to forget his gloves. Sometimes he wondered why he felt so giddy when you asked him to come over, which was almost every night. He wondered what it would be like to come home to you every night instead, had it been a perfect world. He always felt like he was clinging to you too much, for everything. But then you always told him that you didn’t mind. You told him you loved his company. 

He grabbed his helmet before stepping out of his apartment. There was a light drizzle outside but he didn’t care, he just needed to be with you. He got down the stairs and then rushed to start his mean bike and then rushed to your apartment building. You lived in a much nicer part of the city than he did, and he often wondered why you were putting up with someone like him when you could have a man who would give you a life you’ve always dreamt of. He often asked you that, but you always just smiled at him, you never answered. 

On his way up to your floor, he couldn’t help but feel all warm in the elevator. He counted down the seconds till he could see you. He often slept over at your place, he loved it. Cuddling, making love, followed by lazy mornings, him trying to get you to not go to work and spend the day with him instead. He loved how you made him feel. 

He knocked on your door, already taking off his gloves because he needed to feel your skin against his. Your body heat made him feel so much better. He heard you unlocking the door from the other side and not even a second later, he saw your pretty face smiling at him. Dressed in silk PJ shorts and a t-shirt, you looked breathtakingly beautiful even at one thirty in the morning. 

“Hello there,” you greeted him, smirking. “That was fast.” You teased, opening the door wider to let him in. 

He smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and pulling you in for a hug immediately. You felt his slightly damp and cold jacket press against you but you hugged him back tightly anyways. 

“I needed to see you.” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck. 

“I know.” 

-

You and Bucky ended up in your bed, cuddling under the blankets. He loved the dimmed night light you always had on, knowing that he hated being in complete darkness. He loved how cozy your room was, how spacious and airy but also warm and comfortable. 

The large window by your bed showed a lovely view of the city lights, which were right now blurred by the foggy glass, thanks to the light drizzle earlier. He could tell that the air was cold outside, but in here with you everything was just right. 

He had stripped down to just his boxers and he laid his head on your chest, his face facing away from yours, while you played with his hair and occasionally ran your hand down his back, scratching his skin lightly. His cold metal arm lazily ran up and down your thighs and he noticed the goosebumps on your skin that he was causing. 

He could hear your steady heartbeats and that was his favorite sound in the entire world. It calmed him down. 

You looked down, smiling softly at the sight of the muscular soldier using you as a human pillow. You could hear him let out quiet moans as you gently scratched his scalp. You still remembered the first time you two met, at a bar. 

-

It was late on a winter night, and the nearby bar was rather empty; just a few people here and there. And a certain muscular man in a dark leather jacket caught your eye. He was sitting at the counter, and you were in one of the booths. Eventually, you got up and decided to go talk to him. 

You recognized him immediately. Ex-Winter Soldier, Captain America’s best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

Small talks turned into a couple more rounds of beers. He was a little off and awkward at first but he loosened up eventually. He even walked you back to your car, not wanting you to be alone in the dark, foggy and empty parking lot. 

That was the first time he kissed you, right before he opened the door of your car for you. 

“Will I see you again?” He asked, high off the adrenaline which coursed through his veins ever since you kissed him back. 

“Of course you will. Good night, James.” You kissed his cheek before getting into your car and driving off. 

-

A smile formed on your face as you thought of that night. “Do you remember the first time we met?” You asked softly. 

Bucky turned his face to you, placing his head back on your chest. He was so close that all you needed to do was to lean in a little to kiss his soft, pink lips. 

He smiled. “Yeah, why?” 

“No reason, I just wanted you to remember it.” 

Bucky chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss on your skin, right above your breasts. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What is it?” 

You just smiled at him, “Nothing. You’ve been awfully quiet too.” And judging by the look in his eyes, you could already tell there was something else to his silence. “What is it?” 

He was quiet. 

Sighing, you flipped the two of you around; straddling his waist while he laid comfortably against your multiple pillows. 

“Buck, tell me.” You pressed your palms against his chest to hold yourself up. 

“Sam needs my help with something. Another bad guy, another mission, another fight. Same old.” He sounded indifferent. 

You couldn’t blame him. He had been fighting for decades, non-stop. He had lost so much while doing so, but he also didn’t know how to deal with the calm, and silence and the quiet. There was so much he needed to figure out about himself still. 

“Do you not wanna go?” 

He smiled faintly as he lazily rubbed up and down your exposed thighs. “It’s my job, I have to. Innocent people will be hurt if I don’t. I want to help them.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” 

“I’ll have to leave you behind for a little while.” He didn’t want to. He didn’t know how to be away from you anymore because he hadn’t been for months now. The thought of not being able to hold you close at night and having your heartbeats lull him to sleep was scary.

You smiled down at him. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bucky.” 

He reached out and cupped your face with his metal hand. “And what if you find someone better while I’m gone?” 

You frowned down at him. “Where does that come from?” 

He gently stroked your cheek. “I’m just saying. You deserve someone a little more… normal.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Normal is boring, you seem perfectly fine to me.” 

He chuckled. “Why do you put up with me, doll?” It was a rhetorical question, he didn’t expect an answer because he had asked you this countless number of times but you never gave him a reply before. 

However, you did this time. “Because I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You had been meaning to tell him this for a while now. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know that no one’s ever gonna replace you. I love you.” 

He was a little surprised, his heart raced as he processed everything. How could someone as gentle, kind and beautiful like you fall for someone as broken as him? “Doll… I…” 

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You giggled, then pulled away to look at him. “You deserve all the good things in this world, Buck. You deserve to be loved, and cared for. And if you’d let me, I’d love to show you that.” 

You carefully pressed your lips to his, kissing him with all the love you had. His metal hand held you at the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss; turning your mind into a foggy mess for a little while before he pulled away and stared deep into your eyes. 

You reached out and gently caressed his face, Bucky leaned into your touch. “I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow, perhaps.” 

You leaned in for a kiss again, accidentally brushing your crotch against his erection; making him smirk through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. You purposely moved against him while you kissed him again deeply. 

Bucky soon flipped the two of you back around and settled in between your legs, kissing down your neck. “I’m gonna miss making love to you almost every night.” He whispered against your skin. His voice alone sent chills down your back, and made you feel all sorts of warm and tingly feelings inside. 

Bucky movements were gentle and slow as he took your clothes off, making sure you were both under the warm covers still; kissing you occasionally as he undressed you, and caressed your body as you squirmed under him. 

He kissed his way down your body, until his face was right in between your legs. You moaned as he parted your legs and placed a kiss on your inner thigh, pulling your underwear down your legs and kissing his way back to your wet folds. You threw your head back, and bit your lip; whining when you felt his tongue teasing you gently. The warmth of his mouth was driving you insane. 

His tongue gently teased your clit while his fingers slipped inside of you; stroking you gently while you arched your back off the surface of your bed as the pleasure became slightly overwhelming. You whimpered and squirmed under him as his tongue moved perfectly against you.

He had you coming undone all over his tongue and his fingers in no time, and he licked you clean when he was done. Kissing his way up your body again. “I’m gonna miss your taste.” He was shameless enough to whisper it in your ear; making you blush. 

His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him. You whined as he slipped his metal fingers past your entrance yet again. His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot. “And I’m gonna miss your warmth.” 

“Buck…” You moaned quietly as he replaced his fingers with his cock. 

He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow your whimpers and moans as he pushed his cock into you. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head and watched you grimace in pleasure and pain as his cock stretched you to your maximum. He watched you in awe as your lips parted and you moaned his name once he filled you up nicely. 

You whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force. 

He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him. You heard him swear and felt him bite down on your lip as he sped up into you. He tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips; rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed. Your back arched off the surface of the bed again and your chest pressed to his.  

“I’m gonna miss watching you squirm under me…” he whispered, “as I pleasure you like no one ever will.” He moaned into your ear. “You’re mine.” 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. There was something about the way he kissed you, deeply and passionately; as though he was scared you might just get away from him.

He worshipped your body. He mumbled how good you felt in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He kissed you roughly as he pounded into you; his metal fingers wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure. 

He pressed his forehead on yours; looking down to where your bodies connected so intimately. Then he pulled away to look into your eyes with that animalistic, primal and fiery look in his eyes. His lips parted as he panted while he fucked you like he owned you.

“You’re gonna miss me too aren’t you, doll?” 

You nodded, whining in pleasure. He smirked. His hand left your neck and slid in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit, earning a loud moan out of you. “Say it, baby. Tell me how much you’re gonna miss my cock buried deep inside you…” 

You couldn’t talk as the pressure in between your legs became too much to handle, and you craved for release. He noticed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

“Come on, cum for me… doll,” he swore as he felt you clench around him perfectly. You came hard around him, moaning and whimpering under him as he finished right after you; kissing your swollen lips deeply as he came.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. And you cradled his head; panting as well. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp as he calmed his racing heart. A few moments later, he shifted all his weight right on top of you making you laugh as you tried to scoot out from under him. 

He groaned and pulled you closer. “Come here.” He pressed you against his body and wrapped his arms around. “I love you too, doll. So much.” 

You buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. “I’m gonna miss you. All of you.” You lifted your head up to look at him smiling down at you. “Come back fast.” 

He chuckled. “You know I will. No matter where I go, I’ll always come crawling back to you.”

[tearsofsyrup]

peckish

— It’s Seungkwan’s birthday and you want to surprise him with breakfast in bed. But when he wakes up, there’s a different kind of hunger rumbling in his stomach.

pairing. boo seungkwan / female reader

genre. established relationship au; non-idol au; fluff; smut

word count. 2k

warnings. brief sexually explicit content; domestic af; blonde kwan-ah, now with glasses; poorly proof-read

notes. (belated) happy birthday, uri boo. i wasn’t sure whether to post this or not but here we are and here you go! feedback is ardently appreciated!

-

It isn’t often that you find yourself awake before Seungkwan. But your subconscious must have known that today is special. Not that it makes awakening any easier.

Eyes barely open and limbs stirring sluggishly beneath the duvet, you glance towards your boyfriend. His hair is nothing short of messy against the pillow, recently dyed a warm blonde that you won’t admit exactly how much you enjoy on him. A natural pout puckers his lips, emphasized by how his one cheek is squished beneath him. His skin shines with a golden tan under the shy rays of this morning’s sun. Slow, relaxed breaths leave his nose and you can faintly feel them graze your face. It makes you smile.

But you need to get up before those eyelids of his creak open.

You've always wondered why your body feels ten times heavier when getting out of bed, as if an invisible force is begging you to stay put. And it’s a tempting notion to give in to, despite it only being forged by your own mind. However, the unfortunate nature of breakfast is that it doesn’t cook itself. Not even on birthdays.

So, you rise, the heel of your hand rubbing one eye while the other tries to stay open, balance off as you stand. You don’t bother looking for a pair of pants, aware that you only have so much time before the peace of an asleep Seungkwan will run out, and wander around the bed on wobbly legs and only half your vision with nothing but a pajama shirt and panties on.

You make sure not to stumble into the closed door of Vernon’s room as you pass it, rounding the corner into the kitchen with a long yawn. Eyes blinking tightly and frequently, they scan the poverty of your fridge, not containing much other than an almost empty carton of milk, leftover pizza from a week ago and two bottles of ketchup because Vernon accidentally bought an extra one. And the eggs and bacon you sneaked in yesterday.

As you begin preparing Seungkwan’s meal, you try not to make too much of a racket, in an effort to keep your boyfriend unknowing, even when you accidentally hit your head against the cupboard door that you have a bad habit of leaving open. But it seems to be either that or the fact that you might have jumped with a vocal yelp when the frying pan unexpectedly spit hot oil on your hand, that coaxes consciousness into Seungkwan before breakfast is ready. Because you think you can hear faint footsteps through the hissing heat that your poking with a spatula.

Your lips are already pursed when Seungkwan clears his throat of some post-slumber grogginess.

“Shit, go back to sleep!” You haven’t even turned to look his way before you speak, tone chalky from lack of use and eyes focused on positioning the bacon in a needlessly neat order.

Seungkwan snorts. “That didn’t sound like ‘good morning, honey’ to me.” His voice is even more gritty than yours, something he also seems to notice as he begins clearing his throat again.

You scoff, throwing him a scornful look past your shoulder, secretly delighted by the sight of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Like you violently shaking me out of bed while trying to shove vitamins down my throat every day is a form of ‘good morning, honey’.”

Coincidentally though not surprisingly, he is reaching for his bottle of vitamins as you finish speaking. “It’s not my fault you can’t wake up on your own,” he protests, filling a cup with water. “And vitamins are important.”

You try not to roll your eyes too far back into your head when you resume monitoring the bacon. “Anyway, I was gonna make you breakfast in bed, so go back to sleep.”

Seungkwan gulping down his vitamins sounds from behind you and when you turn your head, there is curiosity in the look he gives you. Your focus shifts back ahead as he comes closer. He sniffs from beside you, eyeing the pink strips of meat.

“You’re not burning down my kitchen, are you?” That earns him a side-eyed glare.

“Hey, three people own this kitchen, actually.”

“Ha! When have you ever seen Vernon make anything except cup noodles?”

The lower of your lips juts outward in a pout, unable to argue with that point. But you struggle to maintain the expression wholeheartedly when Seungkwan smiles, brown eyes dripping with amusement before you. You look away, the corners of your mouth itching.

“Breakfast in bed?” he recalls.

“Mhm.”

“What for?”

You huff a laugh. “Shut up. Go sleep.”

Seungkwan giggles, moving away toward the electric kettle. “Eggs and bacon in bed? Could get grease stains on the sheets.”

“Then stop eating like a child or put a bib on.”

Seungkwan makes a sound of offence and his eyes are wide and accusatory behind the large lenses of his glasses when you twist your neck to shoot him a victorious grin. He scoffs, shaking his head before filling the kettle with water.

“No need to roast me. I’m not a piece of that bacon, you know...”

“Pfft.” Your eyes roll again, the bacon in question slowly turning crisp.

Seungkwan meets you with a low-lidded glance. “You shouldn’t be so mean. Especially on my-”

“No, shhh! Not yet, go back to sleep!”

Seungkwan’s laugh is hearty then, while you keep yourself from being infected by it. He turns the kettle on, placing two mugs on the counter next to it before turning and leaning back with loosely crossed arms.

You squint at the pursed smirk he gives you. “You’re not making coffee, are you?”

His eyebrows jump upward. “I am... Like every other morning.”

You exaggerate the deflation of your posture, pout thrice as dramatic as earlier. “But, you can’t go back to sleep if you’re all caffeinated...”

“Well, I’m not gonna fall back asleep either way, baby,” he says with a grin, the curve of his cheekbones rising higher and accentuating the charming arch of his smiling eyes.

With a heavy drop of your head, you huff. Your plan has officially failed. Staring at the darkening bacon feels demeaning, one hand landing on your forehead where it banged against the cupboard door.

A sudden weight settles atop your right shoulder, making you jump a little before realizing it’s Seungkwan’s chin. The warmth of his chest engulfs your back through the fabric of both of your shirts and makes you realize that you are cold with your bare legs out. He peers over you, watching the sizzling bacon below.

“Sorry, baby. For ruining your plan.”

Your free shoulder shrugs. “It’s fine. Isn’t it the thought that counts?”

He chuckles softly, warm in your ear. “Right.”

Seungkwan’s heat leaves you as he goes to handle the water that’s boiled and you try not to shiver, beginning to lift the now crisp strips of bacon onto a paper towel. While Seungkwan prepares coffee, you reach for the eggs, needing both hands to crack them safely into the frying pan.

You watch Seungkwan with a secret glance, quietly admiring the sharp corner of his jawline and the soft slope of his nose. When he catches you, you admire the smile that grows across his lips too.

No more words are exchanged in the comfortable silence between you, until Seungkwan has placed two cups of coffee on the counter next to the stove and his chin is back in your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his warm body and decide not to comment on what you can feel is left of his morning wood against your backside. Seungkwan’s palms run softly over your bare hips and you shudder at the contrasting temperature.

“Why aren’t you wearing any pants, babe? It’s cold,” he murmurs, voice gentler next to your ear.

“I was too tired to care.” You poke slightly at the sunny-side-ups.

“Want me to go get you some clean ones?”

A small smile creeps its way up the corners of your mouth. “What, you don’t like me half-naked?”

Seungkwan laughs. “I like it a little too much, I think.”

With a quirked brow, you wonder if it isn’t a case of morning wood after all.

“I see,” you start. “In that case, I think I’m happy just like this.”

Seungkwan snickers quietly, arms lifting to curve around your waist and hold you tighter against him. Bulge poking at your lower back, he hums a soft melody you cannot place as he watches you move the cooked eggs onto a clean plate and push the pan away from the stove. In an attempt to escape Seungkwan’s embrace, you wiggle a bit and receive a long sigh that brushes across the skin of your neck in return. But he doesn’t relent, simple moving the both of you over with a steadfast grip around you, making you laugh.

“Hey, breakfast in kitchen is ready,” you giggle.

“So, feed me,” he says, grin apparent through his tone.

For a third time, your eyes roll upward, yet you oblige and cut a piece of bacon and eggs for your boyfriend before lifting it into his mouth. He chews it next to your ear, humming with content.

“Wow,” you smirk, arms resting over Seungkwan’s where they hug your stomach. “It’s like live ASMR.”

Seungkwan chuckles. “Thank you, baby. It tastes great.” A sweet kiss is puckered against your cheek.

You twist your neck to meet his face, snuggling into him like he’s a blanket covering you. His eyes meet yours through his glasses and he smiles, wide and pretty, thumbs rubbing against the soft fabric of your shirt. You lean forward, placing your mouth over his and moving it slowly. He reciprocates easily, adding more pressure and quickly turning the kiss more fervent. You feel him hardening behind you, causing a familiar heat to begin aching within the confines of your underwear.

It is first when his fingers sneak up to begin unbuttoning your pajama shirt that you detach your lips from his, lids heavy over your eyes as you watch him. He dives downward and starts pecking and licking at your neck instead.

“Kwannie,” you say with a hushed tone, hand gripping Seungkwan’s wrist weakly. “What if Vernon wakes up?”

Seungkwan huffs into your skin, breath warm. “He won’t,” comes his mumble. “Unless you bang about, like earlier.”

You unsuccessfully suppress a disdainful grunt. “Fuck, I did wake you up when I walked into that damn cupboard door again...”

Your boyfriend grins against you before lifting his head, too amused with the pout you sport. “I’m just teasing, baby. I was already awake by then.”

His giggles are met with disappointed glare. “Bully...”

A quick peck tickles your nose. “Is your head okay, though?”

You shrug. “I’ll live.”

And that is when you notice that your shirt is completely unbuttoned, Seungkwan’s gentle touch pulling it open before placing warm palms over your breasts. You sigh, thighs subconsciously tightening to try and relieve the increasing heat between them.

“Since your first plan didn’t work,” Seungkwan whispers against the shell of your ear and you lean into his erection behind you, “how about we do something else for my-...” Your eyebrows jump at his pause. “Wait, can I say it yet?”

A happy guffaw escapes you, meeting his round eyes with a delighted grin. Gripping his wrist, you guide his slender fingers beneath the cotton of your panties and watch his pupils dilate in real time, his eyelashes dancing with the ends of fluffy, blonde hair. Your hips tense when his skin meets your heat, sensitive with a need for attention.

“Yes, Kwannie,” you finally reply, biting your lip through your wide smile. “Happy birthday.”

...

Later, when the taste of Seungkwan’s release is coating your throat and your knees are aching, he asks if you want to take your vitamins yet. Your incredulous laugh is so loud that you are sure it makes even Vernon wake up.

[ohbeaby]

So the all of the boys we have met really are just rich. The only one who isn’t is probably Mammon but even he is only in debt due to some of his strange spending habits.

So this is just a silly little thought about how the boys might react to an MC who isn’t very rich at all and has habits to save money.

Clothes:

While they all take decent care of their clothes they also tend to just throw them out if a hole is made or a stain appears. Belphie might keep his longer out of sheer laziness but it’s not like he’s trying to fix any of the issues with his clothes he’s just too lazy to go get more.

MC probably has a small sewing kit and some tricks to get stains out of just about any fabric. The brothers try to throw clothes away and Mc swoops in your save the lightly used fabric from the garbage. They also have a small collection of patches and fabric strips that they give to Levi if he needs extra material for his cosplays. All the saved clothes get returned to the brothers who are very confused as to how the holes all got patched up and WHY MC would bother patching them.

This spills over into Purgatory Hall when MC learns Solomon keeps ruining his clothes in different disasters. The issue is the word disaster clearly has different meanings to everyone because MC just about loses it when they learn that the “disastrous” state of his clothes is just some tears and some small spots where a potion spilled.

All the boys confront MC at some point about why they keep fixing their clothes and MC just explains that they find it wasteful to throw the fabrics away when they could easily be repaired and maintained. They’re all mildly impressed but don’t say anything, though there is a distinct lack of clothes being thrown away after everything is done and some even come to MC for repairs.

Food/Soaps/Jewelry/Bedding:

So when MC first got there no one really paid attention to what they were buying for themselves. The brothers simply didn’t care because it’s just some human. As they get to know MC more though they start to pay attention and realize that MC isn’t exactly buying the highest quality in anything. I imagine Lucifer might be the first to actually say something.

MC: I think I want to get some hot coco.

Lucifer: Yes that doesn’t sound nice. Some milk and cream with coco powder- What are you doing?

MC: *holding up a box of instant hot coco* This is what I usually get. Just add some hot water and it’s okay.

Lucifer: *internally screaming at how terrible that sounds compared to what he was imagining* Do you...not know how to make hot coco?

MC: *laughing* Oh I know! It’s just more expensive than this.

Lucifer makes sure to accompany them on their grocery shopping trips and tries to get them to be a bit more open to buying more expensive cuts of meat or cheeses. He just wants them to enjoy some of the nicer things they feel comfortable indulging in.

Asmodeous probably has a heart attack when he realizes MC is just buying the most affordable shampoos and body washes. Poor boy isn’t able to comprehend that MC doesn’t want to drop 100’s of dollars on soaps.

Asmo: But look at how many harsh chemicals are in there MC! Your poor hair isn’t going to feel healthy at all!

MC: I mean...it gets my hair clean yeah? So it’s fine.

Asmo: At least get a body scrub! They help make your skin feel so soft!

MC: Is there one not quite as expensive? The one in your hand is a bit more than I expected.

Asmo: ...I don’t know what’s in the cheaper ones though. They probably don’t have as much moisturizer.

MC: Soooo I don’t need it?

Asmo: *screeching because he doesn’t know how to convey what the issue is*

Asmo takes time to find more affordable products that at least have a similar quality to his high end taste. He doesn’t like it but he does know he can’t force MC to buy the products he would normally use.

Mammon is VERY confused when MC is looking at jewelry of some kind but it’s like glass or shiny plastic instead of actual crystals or diamonds.

MC: Oh these charms are cool! Look there’s a crow!

Mammon: I mean...I guess? They aren’t real crystals or anything though. Looks like hard plastic.

MC: Eh? Why does that matter? *laughing* I’m just window shopping anyways.

Mammon: Window shopping?

MC: You know? When you’re just looking around but not actually going to buy?

Mammon: But if you want it why not just get it?

MC: These charms are each more expensive than my average meal! I can’t just drop that kind of money on little trinkets!

He’s probably the most understanding about all of it since he gets not having money. The realization that MC doesn’t actively seek out anything remotely expensive turns him to trying to save up more money to get them nice things.

Leviathan is probably the one to make MC the most uncomfortable with his spending habits. He is known to spend egregious amounts of money on things that don’t have an actual function aside from just being part of a collection. MC on the other hand will buy little knock off things like key chains or stickers because they don’t want to spend so much on the official merchandise but they still like whatever show or game it is. MC also knows how to make their own cosplays and repurpose things for props and accessories.

MC: *showing Leviathan some cute little charm from Pokemon or something* I love this one it’s so cute. I wanted to get the set but that was quite a bit more!

Leviathan: *sees it and knows immediately that it’s knock off and not even close to official merch* The colors aren’t even close! Look it doesn’t even look like the original character!

MC: I mean it’s pretty close. Maybe it’s just hard to make that color?

Levi: Why not just get the official merch?? It’s much better quality

MC: But the official is ten times more expensive. I think this looks close enough.

Levi: ...okay look I THINK I have an extra set with that character in it.

MC: ...extra set??

Levi: Well I buy more than one so I can sell them later.

MC: More than one??????

Leviathan makes it a goal of his to get MC whatever merch he can for their interests. He doesn’t like the idea that MC just settles for lower quality stuff just because they don’t think they should buy it. This is HIS Henry after all, only the best quality for them.

Satan also struggles hard trying to understand MCs spending habits. He prefers to get new books when he can as he doesn’t like the idea of buying a used book that someone ruined (ie. the corners have small bends or there’s a pencil mark in them, he has high standards for his books lol). The only exception he has is older books that are limited quantity. He gets frustrated when he sees MC carrying books around that look like they’ve been through hell and back in his eyes. He initially thinks MC is the one ruining their own books.

Satan: Really? The semester started a week ago and your books already look this bad?

MC: Bad? I thought I got a good deal on them.

Satan: Well when you bend the corners like that of course they look bad. Is that a coffee stain? Really?

MC: What? We haven’t even gotten to these sections yet. I’m not sure what you’re issue with my books is.

Satan: Well why are the pages all bent here of you haven’t gotten to these sections yet? Are you just incapable of taking care of your stuff?

MC: Maybe it was the previous owner? I take care of my stuff, don’t even try and pull that card.

Satan: ...previous owner? Like you’ve just gone and bought a used book? Why?

MC: Well actually it’s a rental, it was cheaper than-

Satan: RENTAL?!

Satan then insists that he buys MC all new books despite their protests. He isn’t going to sit around and let them use older books if it can be helped though he does start to understand why MC doesn’t mind used books when they show them places with discounted or even free textbooks and PDFs. It’s kind of handy to not have to pay a large sum for a physical copy when he can just have a free PDF of an older version on his laptop.

Beelzebub starts questioning what the humans habits are when he takes them shopping in place of Lucifer and sees them picking up instant noodles and coffee. He may be willing to eat almost anything but even he knows that stuff doesn’t taste the best and can’t be the healthiest for them.

Beelzebub: What about this brand? It’s got those little veggies in it.

MC: But it’s three times the price. I can just chop up some chives and put it in this for cheaper.

Beel: Why does the price matter?

MC: I don’t like spending too much if I can help it. Oh! They have frozen pizzas!

Beel: *increasingly concerned about the humans poor eating habits*

Beel probably starts taking them out to restaurants more or trying to rope them into cooking with him. He isn’t sure if they just don’t know what good food looks like or what their deal is so he’s just going to try and show them and hope they get the hint. He does avoid eating anything healthy they bought, like yogurts or frozen fruit.

Belphegor. King of sleep. Ruler of comfort. The one you know KNOWS how to take a good nap. He is absolutely pissed when he sees MCs room for the first time, most importantly their bed. The pillows look awful and the sheets are the cheapest ones you can get at the store. He confronts his brothers about the humans poor sleeping arrangements to which they all say “it’s what they chose when they first got here.”

Belphie: No. Unacceptable. Throw it away.

MC: You’re being ridiculous, I’m not throwing my pillows away.

Belphie: They don’t even have a shape they’re so flat! You have no comfort standards!

MC: My bed is comfy!

Belphie: The only comfortable part is the mattress which is also the only thing you didn’t choose.

MC: What’s wrong with the rest of it?!

Belphie: Those sheets are scratchy, the blanket is thinner than a piece of paper, those pillows look sadder than a kicked puppy, do I really need to go on?

MC: You’re being completely unreasonable.

Belphie drags Asmo and Mammon to the store to get MC a whole new bed set and even insists on getting them a new mattress. MC gets barred from their room for a few days until everything is set up. Belphie cares, he just wants MC to be comfortable, it’s important to him that MC sleeps well.

Overall I think the boys will learn to be a little more accepting of MCs habits. They also become increasingly more aware of how much richer they are than them and try to make MC as comfortable as they can.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part VII

That Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Requests/asks are open. Give me your opinions, your ideas for this fic, your additional fic ideas. I love hearing from you all!

Robbe didn’t want to get out of bed on Sunday. This week marked the last before exams set in, then everyone would leave for winter holidays. Jens and Aaron lived within a ten-kilometer radius of Robbe’s apartment, but the distance might as well be five hundred with how often they saw each other. Jens called this week in the term “Live It Up Week.” It was their final chance to have some big fun before two weeks’ isolation at home.

No one else knew what Robbe heard last night. He didn’t know what he would tell them. When Jens tried to pull the curtains open to get a jump on a day of mischief, Robbe bound them shut with a simple spell.

“You’re not that tired,” Jens taunted. “C’mon, my sweet Robbe, the world is wide and open for our consumption!”

Aaron joined in. “We have so much to do!”

“Sander can come along, if you want.”

“Oh, no, he met someone else. Sander’s not—”

“The someone is Sander…”

Their voices softened into harsh whispers outside. Robbe clamped his pillow over his head and prayed they’d go away. He didn’t think he could handle anything else today.

It was never anything, what he had with Sander. Nothing that would last. Robbe found it funny, in a kind of morbid way—he wasn’t really upset. Did he want to leave the cocoon of his blankets? No. Was he happy with how anything turned out? Also no. But he wasn’t going to cry over it.

He remembered when Jens and Jana broke up. Jens was in pieces for weeks afterward, although he tried to hide it. Robbe didn’t feel that caliber of heartbreak. If anything, it felt like his speculations were proven true.

He wasn’t happy, he was right. Those emotions were close enough. A comfortable numbness.

Damn, what was he going to tell Aaron and Moyo about his someone else?

The boys rustled about the room, throwing clothes and dropping their belongings. A door opened and shut, and Jens put his mouth right against the seam in the bedcurtains to talk to Robbe.

“Aaron’s gone,” he said. “What happened?”

Robbe didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

“Did you end things with him?”

They were never a thing. What was there to end? If Sander was back with Britt, their relationship returned to what it was before the fake-dating started. Stolen glances across a table. If he wasn’t, well, Robbe would let himself be dragged along for the rest of the term. It was only meant to last a month. He could handle another month.

Robbe kind of wanted to pick Jens’ mind on the subject: what did Sander’s statement mean? Was it an echo of the joke they had on their first date, but serious this time? I could never fall in love with Robbe. Was it an assurance to Britt that Robbe wouldn’t get in the way of their rekindled relationship? Was it something simpler than that, no more than an acknowledgement that things were moving too fast between them?

He didn’t know how to unload all of that on Jens in a decent amount of time, and even if he did, it probably wouldn’t make much sense. Robbe was a shit storyteller.

“You know you can tell me things, right?” said Jens. “Anything. About anything. About… other people.”

“I know,” said Robbe, because he didn’t want Jens to be worried. “It’s exams. I’m stressed out.”

He could hear Jens exhale and relax on the other side of the curtains. “Ah, right. You have to be the smartest out of us. Yasmina got you in a study group?”

“Yeah, I spent the night in the library.” Why not say something like that? It was better than what he’d actually been doing, which was getting his heart broken in a hallway by an overheard conversation.

“Cool. I’ll let you sleep, then.” Jens left the dormitory.

Now that he was alone, Robbe opened his bed to the scene outside. Light streamed in from their window. He knew he’d have to get up if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of appearing casual about this whole thing. Sander didn’t know he overheard.

Robbe wasn’t that unhappy, either, and that should be a sign that things never would have worked.

Yeah. He was fine. It was one night of making out for real.

He dragged his feet out of the blankets and to the floor. It would have been cold, were it not for Aaron’s stray clothing covering most of the wooden planks. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Robbe kicked aside his Potions textbook and watched it slide into the no-man’s-land under his bed. Fuck Potions. He didn’t need them.

He got it back out.

His trunk was a mess of overflowing shirts and trousers. He dug a Hufflepuff sweater from the mix. When he arrived back at the dormitory last night, he hadn’t the resolve to peel off the Quidditch uniform and hang it somewhere to dry. As such, it smelled like wet dog and clung to his skin in all the wrong places. Dumb fucking rain. Robbe stripped down and changed as fast as he could. He left the soggy uniform dangling from one of his bed’s pillars, then removed the dampened sheets from his mattress and tossed them to the ground with Aaron’s shit.

See, functioning like a normal human being. Nothing had changed from yesterday into today.

New plan, since clearly he was an idiot, and no plans he made worked. He would go downstairs for breakfast, spend time with Jens and Aaron, and patrol tonight with Jana as he had neglected to do for much of this week. He could study for his exams in the library, and maybe, if there was time, get in some pleasure reading.

He thought about Sander’s hands stroking his hair. Not the library, then.

After that, Zoë and Yasmina might help him with whatever else needed doing. Zoë knew his relationship with Sander wasn’t going anywhere, so she wouldn’t take much effort to be around. Yasmina had no clue. He didn’t want to have to tell her about it.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

Robbe surveyed the room one last time, trying to muster the will to head for the Great Hall. This was his last week to be free before the end of term, before he entered the second half of sixth year and had to start thinking about his future. He should go have fun with everyone else.

He flopped back on his sheetless bed and shut the curtains.

***

Weekdays did not bring relief. Sander and Robbe shared no classes, but Robbe didn’t even see Sander in the corridors during transition periods. He almost made himself attend Potions on Monday. No dice. Britt sat in the front of the classroom, and he didn’t want to see her stupid smug expression. She knew about him, he thought, even if the fake-dating arrangement wasn’t technically over.

What would he do if he saw Sander? Would they kiss again? Would it be the normal fake relationship activities, except unburdened by Robbe’s belief it could be more? He would put up with it, of course, for a little while, until the opportunity to end it presented itself.

On Sunday night, Robbe was still haunted by Friday night’s kisses and caresses. Dreaming about them. Craving them. Missing them. On Tuesday morning, he just wanted to see Sander again. A glimpse through the railing of a changing staircase. A flicker of movement across the Great Hall. Anything.

Fate had other plans on Tuesday night. Robbe carried his textbooks to the farthest section of the library, the section that would block his view of where he and Sander sat a week ago. One fucking week. How could he have expected Sander to feel anything for him after a week or two? He whipped around the corner a little too fast and ran right into someone else, also carrying a stack of books. They collided, and their materials fell to the floor. Robbe was too caught up in his own thoughts to offer a simple apology. One fucking week.

“Ow!” the girl exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”

“Happens to the best of us,” said Robbe. He brushed off his trousers and began to gather his things again.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, it’s totally my mistake.”

“Now you know better for next time.” Robbe wasn’t sure why he was being so cruel. He wasn’t even that upset about Sander, not enough to channel it onto other people.

“You’re Robbe, aren’t you?”

He looked up. The girl had brown hair and a Hufflepuff tie. He didn’t recognize her, per se, but she did give off an air of familiarity. “Yes, why?”

The girl smiled and extended her hand to help him up. There was a gap between her two front teeth. “I met your boyfriend the other day. At the Quidditch match. The nosebleed section, y’know?”

Robbe remembered now. This was the girl that Sander was talking to instead of paying attention to the action unfolding in front of him. In retrospect, it was so obvious Sander was never as all-in as Robbe was. Go figure. Robbe probably looked like an idiot, what with his stupid fall-from-the-air-and-kiss-Sander plan.

“Right. You seemed to get along well,” said Robbe. There was venom there. He knew she could hear it as she pulled him to his feet. He did his best to soften the blow—it wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t good enough. “Did you enjoy the match?”

“I didn’t really get to,” she laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked your boyfriend to explain things to me. Mistake, huh?”

That was unexpected. Robbe felt a surge of protectiveness for Sander. Sander was never boring, never once, not in all the time that Robbe knew him. Robbe would have killed to be there in the stands instead of this girl, talking to Sander, lavishing in his attention.

“How?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why was it a mistake?”

“Oh.” The girl blushed. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. “He didn’t talk a lot about it, if you know what I mean.” Outside in the corridor, the clock began to chime dinner. Robbe could never go to a Great Hall dinner again, not without Noor staring him down, not without Britt’s air of superiority hovering over him.

He did not know what this girl meant. He hugged his textbooks tight against his chest.

“He kind of focused on one player.”

What player? Sander was bisexual, or pansexual—he said as much to Milan on that one date. It could be anyone on Robbe’s team. It could be Jens, Aaron, heaven forbid Yasmina— and it didn’t matter. Robbe already knew.

“You,” the girl said, almost exasperated. “He wouldn’t shut up about you. Merlin’s beard, I don’t know what it is with you boys. You never understand anything.”

“Everyone under the age of twenty is a certified idiot,” Robbe recited. It was the first thing to come to mind.

“The whole game, it was all, Him there? That’s my boyfriend. That’s Robbe. Look at Robbe. Last time I try to flirt at a Quidditch game.” She reached out and gave Robbe an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Sorry to bombard you. I should get back to studying…”

“Nice to meet you,” said Robbe. She was already leaving the library by the time he realized he hadn’t gotten her name.

He passed the remainder of the evening hiding with his books in various degrees of focus. Jens stopped in at one point to bring Robbe a slab of turkey that he stole from the dinner table, and sat down for a while to chat. Jens was not in Potions. Robbe was the only bitch in their friend group who could handle Potions.

The information buzzed inside Robbe’s head. All he had to do was open his mouth, and he could get everything off his chest at once. This was so stupid. This was his whole life.

What he knew (because making a list always helped):

1. Sander was not in love with him.

2. He was in love with Sander.

3. Sander talked about him to other people.

4. He didn’t much talk to others about Sander.

5. He’d meant to taunt the boys with relationship information, and ended up lying instead.

6. Britt and Sander were probably back together.

There wasn’t any way to cover that much in the amount of time they had. Robbe let Jens quiz him on magical history. They were on the last chapters right now, the ones that covered the most recent wars.

“What was Lord Voldemort’s real name?”

Robbe blanched. “Is that a real question?”

“That’s what it says.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Good. What caused his death the first time?”

“True love or something. I don’t know.”

Jens made a face. “Mm, close. It was actually sacrificial love.” He looked up from the textbook and right at Robbe. “Speaking of love—”

“Don’t say it.”

“I was just wondering,” said Jens, treading carefully, “about how you two left it.”

It wasn’t the time. Robbe hadn’t even had his sexuality crisis yet—still postponing. Let him have that, and they could talk. He couldn’t bear to hear more about Sander today. He wasn’t that upset about it, though. He wasn’t. There was a large, large difference between being upset about it and just not wanting to dish the story onto other people.

“Because I talked to Jana,” Jens continued, “and she said—well, it’s actually kind of weird because she said—she said that Britt’s…” He trailed off.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

“Whatever.” Robbe kept his composure. “I remember now. Lord Voldemort was maimed by Harry Potter’s mother’s sacrifice. She put herself between them and the curse rebounded. That right?” He raised his voice a little too much for the library standards; a few other studying students shot him dirty looks. They could suck it.

Jens put the book back on the table. “If I were you, I’d want to know, so…”

Absolutely not. Britt and Sander were not back together. Absolutely not. Robbe knew it before, but fuck, hearing it basically confirmed made him want to throw up. He felt his eyes watering—some fluke, considering this was always going to happen and he wasn’t that upset. The word “upset” lost all meaning as he repeated it in his head.

“That makes Harry Potter the first and only person to survive a killing curse,” he said. “His parents were James and Lily—”

“He told you, right?”

“Nothing to tell,” said Robbe tightly. “Keep quizzing. I’m going to fail my exams.”

Jens shook his head. “Something happened on Sunday.”

“The Potters were given up by their close friend, Peter Pettigrew. People thought it was Sirius Black.”

“Robbe, you can talk to me.”

“We’re talking right now.”

Jens grabbed Robbe by the arm. It wasn’t that they never touched each other, because they did, but the intensity in a gesture like this took Robbe a little bit by surprise. He shook his friend off. Jens held fast. He seemed to consider a thousand different comforting phrases in a moment. Finally, he settled on, “I want you to be happy.”

The slab of turkey was going cold in its napkin. Robbe would get in trouble if the librarian happened by his table and saw it there. He picked at it with his hands, because what was the use in manners? The student closest to their table grimaced as she watched.

The clock chimed nine; the library had extended hours during the week before exams. It was time for Jens to leave and hang with Moyo and Aaron, who planned to prank the Gryffindors by moving everything in their common room two inches to the left. Jens made no effort to leave his chair. He opened the book to the bookmarked page. “Fine. Okay.” The stars glittered through the library windows. It was a wonderful night for the astronomy tower. Robbe didn’t want to go anywhere with Jana if she knew about Britt and Sander. “What role did Sirius Black play in the defeat of Lord Voldemort?”

And so the evening went. Stupid fucking weekdays.

***

It was Thursday before Robbe saw Sander again. He wished he hadn’t. For the first time, Sander had his hair styled in such a way that the deep brown roots were just as visible as his bleach blond. His robes were clean. Buttoned correctly. See, here was a person who wasn’t upset in the slightest. Like Robbe. Robbe was already over it.

He froze anyway.

Here was the moment of truth: if the arrangement were still in effect, Sander would run over and kiss him. Robbe waited for it to happen. Sander did not spare him so much as a glance.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t earth-shattering. Robbe did not go to Potions.

***

Friday night was a whirlwind of Quidditch practice and exam preparation. Moyo and Aaron put their moving spell to work again in the Hufflepuff common room, doing their best to scoot everything simultaneously. It gave them away on Tuesday when things moved at separate times.

“McGonagall’s gonna make us turn cockroaches into shot glasses or something,” Moyo lamented. The couch slid a whole foot to the left, taking Jens and Robbe with it. A good five seconds later, Zoë’s chair by the table slid, too. “We can’t turn shit into shit.”

“I can turn your girl into mine,” said Aaron. Moyo smacked him in the back of the head.

Robbe ignored them to the best of his ability. There was so much he didn’t know, and only a few short days left to cram it into his head. He wasn’t sure there was space to fit it in beside Sander.

He wasn’t worried about Transfiguration—the real assignment was turning a bug of choice into an article of clothing. Moyo would be fine. They always were. History of Magic would prove slightly more difficult, if the questions were as hard as the professor bragged they would be. Charms was a breeze if he focused on it, and Herbology was easy enough that he hardly thought about it. There was only one class left to bite him in the ass.

Senne descended the stairs. “Prefect stuff, going out,” he declared. “Robbe, coming with?”

Going with Senne would mean seeing Britt. No thank you. Robbe didn’t answer. He could take Jana later, if it came down to it, but his nightly plans involved sleeping for the rest of forever. Or going to astronomy tower.

It was ages since his last trip. Surely the memory of Sander couldn’t taint the stars over still waters.

“Cool, so I’ll see you guys later, then.” Senne kissed Zoë on the forehead as he walked by. “Stick around if you want to. I won’t be long.”

The door closed behind him, and instantly, Zoë whirled to Robbe. “Isn’t that your job?”

“No,” said Robbe. He read about a Wolfsbane potion for the forty-millionth time and remembered none of it. All his other textbooks darted across his lap and off the couch, coming to rest underneath Zoë’s feet. Moyo and Aaron high-fived. Five books at once was a pretty okay feat.

“Got plans tonight, huh?” Moyo said.

Jens perked up. “Plans? Fun plans?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. With his someone else.”

This got Zoë’s attention. She glanced at Robbe, incredulous.

“I can’t believe you’d dump Sander,” said Aaron, not really to Robbe. “He’s hot.”

“He’s a bleach-blond,” Moyo pointed out.

“That’s what I said.”

“Boys,” interjected Jens. “You’re not being subtle. Shut up.”

They returned to their studying. The common room during exam season was a new locale: several people sobbed right out in the open as they paged through books. Students sat on rugs and in the large windowsill. A group even claimed the stairs to the girls’ dormitory as their space, and cast levitating spells on a handful of marbles they’d thrown out into the air.

Robbe read the page on the Wolfsbane potion yet again and thought of Sander. All he did was think about Sander. It shouldn’t mean this much to him—he wasn’t going to cry over it. Jens’ leg pressed up against his own on the couch. Not a year ago, they were sitting on this same couch as Jens fell to pieces over Jana.

He should tell them. They had that poster board upstairs, an honest-to-God muggle poster board, with that dumb stupid plan on how to get Robbe and Sander together. Operation Sobbe. Obviously it was that. They would be okay with anything he told them, and maybe they could help him through—

There wasn’t anything to get through. Wolfsbane potions are extremely difficult to make on account of their poisonous ingredients and the expenses involved.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Moyo said, out of the blue.

Jens didn’t look up from his book, Hogwarts: a History. “Do enlighten us.”

“Robbe. It’s really not fair.”

Robbe should tell them he should tell them he should tell them—

“Sander’s head-over-heels for him, beautiful specimen of a human being, and he gets someone else on the side.” Moyo cleared his throat to continue. “Noor wanted him, Sander wanted him, hell, half the school probably wants him. He’s flicking them off like flies.”

Now’s the moment, Robbe thought. Tell them.

Moyo’s brow furrowed. He faced Robbe, just as Robbe’s quill lept from his hand and shot three feet to the left. “Kind of weird you didn’t tell Sander. I liked him. I mention it in the hallway, and—”

“You talked to Sander?” Jens asked.

“I want to do some homework,” said Zoë. No one listened.

“No, I mean, everyone overhears things.” Moyo waved his hand in the air to clear that topic away. “I don’t think it’s fair that you get all the action and the rest of us study for our exams.” He laughed like it was funny, and, unsurprisingly, Aaron laughed too.

Say something and fucking tell them, Robbe screamed at himself. The Wolfsbane potion was invented by Mr. Belby and tastes awful.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” said Robbe.

“Clearly.”

“I think I hear someone at the door,” Jens said. He jumped up from the couch to answer it. Robbe felt the air get heavier between himself and Moyo, in a way he didn’t much like. The acid from the Quidditch match, from watching Britt and Sander, from Sunday morning came flooding back into his system.

Lighthearted conversation. Steer it back into lighthearted conversation.

“So—” Robbe began.

Moyo cut him off. “You had it really good.”

“Can someone help me with this Charm?” Zoë attempted. The snowball was already rolling.

“We were rooting for you,” said Moyo. “You were good together. And he clearly adores you.”

Even Aaron was uncomfortable by the shift in tone. “Moyo—”

“Hang on, hang on. The way you kissed each other, I mean, obviously.”

“We’re good at fake dating,” said Robbe, aware it sounded dumb.

“Usually when people fake-date, they don’t use tongue. You’ve been dating him. This whole time. It’s cool, it’s fine. He knew what you thought about it, and whatever. But you really believed that whole Britt excuse?” Moyo took Robbe’s silence as an answer. “Zoë says he gave this whole fucking monologue when she asked, and when he was drunk—”

“Are you slut-shaming me?”

“No, if anyone here’s a slut, that’s my title.”

“Then what are you getting at?” Robbe was three seconds away from his boiling point.

“We’re your friends, and we’ll support you no matter what. I’m trying to. I’m trying.” Moyo sighed. “That’s just… well, it’s shitty. And as a friend, it’s my job to call you out. Illuminate us, please.”

Robbe couldn’t do it. He had a whole list in his head of things to say—things he needed to say. He spent no more than two weeks kissing Sander, only one day of it real, and he missed it like a hole torn in the center of his chest. He wasn’t going to cry over it, no. He wasn’t going to be Jens right now. But fucking hell, Sander must be somewhere making out with Britt at this very moment, and all Robbe could think about was whether Sander drank coffee in the morning, the number of creams and sugars he used. Robbe was so goddamn upset that it was killing him from the inside out.

Hear that, universe? He was upset. You win.

He said the next closest thing. “You think it was my choice?”

The common room went silent. The levitating marbles clattered to the floor. Zoë and Aaron became interested in an illustration of Gillyweed in Zoë’s book.

A painting on the wall released itself from its hanging and moved one inch to the left.

“Uh, door for you,” Jens said. He reappeared, pointed back at the entrance. “You might want to… um. Yeah.” He rushed past Robbe and ushered the boys upstairs. Moyo held Robbe’s glare for a second longer. Aaron took his time, loitering at the base of the stairwell, still trying to puzzle through the conversation he witnessed. Zoë looked briefly between Jens and Robbe, concerned, and followed them out. She brought with her six or so first-years who were using the carpet to spread out all their notes. It was going to be a party in the boys’ dorm tonight.

Robbe didn’t budge from the couch. He didn’t want to see who it was. Probably Britt. Or Noor. One of them.

“Uh, Robbe?”

That wasn’t Britt’s voice. Shit. Robbe pretended not to hear. With luck, Jens hadn’t left the door open, and Sander would be stuck outside the common room for a little while. Robbe needed time to gather his thoughts after everything Moyo said. The remaining students scurried away like mice. Robbe scanned down a page of his History of Magic textbook without reading any of the words.

“Robbe, I—we should talk.” It didn’t sound any closer. Sander must be staying near the doorway. Stupid, respectful Sander.

“Busy!” he yelled back.

“It’s important.”

“So are exams.”

“Robbe, please.” This was more nervous than Robbe had ever heard Sander speak.

“Come in, then,” he invited.

“Um, I think you should come here. If that’s okay.”

It blossomed in Robbe’s chest, for a moment: the oddest sensation of irrational hope. Sander was here to admit his feelings for him. They’d go back to the workshop and kiss ‘til their fingertips burned with magic. The fake-dating thing never officially ended, Robbe thought. Therefore, everything he’d felt over the past week could just be his own taste for dramaticism. Sander didn’t want things to move to fast. It wasn’t a guarantee that he never would love Robbe—

Overthinking. Stop overthinking. “Yeah, okay, one second.”

He rose from the couch, threw open the door, and there was Sander. Eyes trained on the floor.

Fuck.

Sander was a cutout from those Hogsmede dates. He was there, but not really. Cold. He picked at something dried on the hem of his sleeve. Robbe felt himself sitting down across the Three Broomsticks table, wanting without realizing, losing without ever having in the first place. Unattainable. That always was the most important part.

No one ever looked like this when they came with good news.

Sander launched into a pre-prepared speech as soon as Robbe was in front of him. “I imagine you’ve heard by now.”

“I’m doing well, how are you?” said Robbe.

“Sometimes I make impulsive decisions, and they hurt people.” Sander sounded like he came straight from a script. Robbe wanted to pitch himself from the top of the astronomy tower. “I really don’t mean to. You didn’t deserve it. But you have to understand, I don’t—you don’t like me.”

“Are we gonna have this talk here?” said Robbe. Hearing the words from Sander’s mouth only cemented a different truth in his head. He loved Sander with everything he had.

“I mean, we could be friends, or…”

Robbe jumped in when it became clear there was no more to that sentence. “I’d rather it be over, if you don’t mind.”

“Right, over.”

They both stared at their shoes.

“I’ll go,” said Sander. And he went. No more than that. It wasn’t going to be dramatic. It was over.

Just like that.

[angelfishofthelord]

sea of blue or aztec gold

(a fic for 12x16 where Claire got bitten by a werewolf except for Cas is there)

+

The three of them stand in the left corner of the motel room like some kind of conclave of the grown-ups. Claire picks at the chipped gray polish on her fingernails and stares at them between the sweaty strands of hair falling into her eyes. The British guy--was his name Miles or something--keeps twisting his feet around like he wants to leave. Sam and Dean’s voices rise and fall and she strains an ear to hear a few snatches.  

“--maybe Cas--heal her--” comes from Sam and Claire shakes her head. No one sees it, of course, because nobody's even asking her. At twenty years old she’s seen more dead bodies than the average middle-aged adult but sometimes--like right now--she still feels like a kid. Like some wayward youngster who ruined the cake at a party and now everyone is trying to figure out how to fix it without causing a scene.

“--in the area--looking for Kelly--call him--” Dean rejoins.

She bites back a sigh. It looks like a decision has been made already, without the options ever reaching her. Closing her eyes she leans her head down into the crook of her arm and tries not to think about that blessed half second before the werewolf’s fangs sank into her skin. The split moment before her life disappeared and was replaced by the kind of nightmare she’s killed without a second thought

“Hey.” Sam puts his hand on her shoulder and she forces herself to look up. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “You didn’t call Jody yet,” she adds, more as a hope than a question.

“Not yet. Cas is gonna come by and see if he can heal you. He should be here in under an hour.”

Her nose wrinkles and she hikes up the blanket around her shoulders, sliding deeper into the armchair. Castiel isn’t her parent, but he’s going to fuss over her and make that same face where the brow gets all twisted up in concern. Except for he has an additional look of a million or so years of sadness in his eyes, and she doesn’t really have the energy to pretend not to care about him right now.  

“Let him know I said hi,” she murmurs, shutting her eyes again. Pretending to fall asleep is still the surest way to get grown-ups to back off.

She knows when Castiel arrives even before he speaks. His heavy, deliberate footsteps come echoing from across the room. They pause a few paces away and Castiel exchanges hushed words with Sam and Dean before moving closer and putting a hand on the armrest of the chair.

“Claire,” he says and for half a second she swears he sounds just like her dad. Not that she really remembers what her dad sounds like anymore; those memories have been too saturated with blood and confusion, too deeply buried to ever retain the clarity they once had. But there's so much gentle worry coiled around the sound of her name that she almost wants to launch herself into his arms and have him tell her a story that’ll make the bad dream disappear.

Instead she opens one eye and grunts wordlessly at him.

“May I?” he asks and waits until she nods before pressing two fingers to her forehead.

The buzz of grace streaking through her feels like downing a shot of migraine. When she flinches away he immediately pulls back. “I’m sorry,” he says, first to her and then to Sam and Dean who are standing next to him expectantly. “I can’t…the cells are already mutating. It’s beyond my power to-”

“Okay,” Dean cuts him off, tersely. Terrified. “So what now?”

What happens next is a Russian roulette of options. Dean tries to sell her on his plan of being a vegetarian werewolf who eats rabbit heart salads on the daily. Sam explains the details of a risky cure where the sole test subject died. The British guy sputters objections for both ideas, all the while looking more and more unnerved by the whole situation.

Castiel is the only one who says nothing. He sits there on the edge of the bed across from her, hands on his knees as he listens to everything being discussed. “It’s up to Claire,” he says tepidly when Dean presses him for an opinion. She wonders if he’s afraid to interfere in her life again. He still doesn’t say anything when she finally chooses to try the cure. The look on his face, on the other hand, is absolutely rife with sorrow.

In fact all four of them are staring at her with such piteous expressions that it makes her feel nauseous.

She blocks them out by pulling the blanket up and over her head as they discuss who’s going to go get blood from the werewolf who attacked her and who’s going to stay with her. Dean suggests him and Castiel for the hunting team, but Castiel disagrees.

“She could already be changing, we have no idea how fast this will happen. If something…” his voice drops, making the words even sharper to her ears, “…I should be here. I can heal.”

Claire decides that this is the point where she needs to muster up enough strength to protest. But the second she tries to stand up fireworks of pain go off through her body. She clamps down on her tongue to keep from crying out and works slowly, putting one foot down on the linoleum floor and then the other. The blanket drags behind her as she finally staggers to her full height, only to see there’s no one left in the room except for the British guy--Mick-- and Castiel. They’re standing an awkward distance apart, staring each other down with equal parts suspicion and contempt.

“Well,” Mick begins tentatively. “Someone should make sure the rooms beside us stay vacant so we are undisturbed during the…process. Perhaps we should also have some words with the manager, to keep her from being alarmed by anything she might hear.”

“Yes,” Castiel answers and then moves to position himself in front of Claire. The message is clear: he doesn’t trust Mick to be left alone in the room with her.

“I’ll do it,” Mick says hurriedly before turning and leaving the room.

Claire pokes Castiel in the shoulder after the door closes. “Scary,” she teases him.

Castiel turns around, the coldness in his eyes instantly replaced by soft strokes of concern. He reaches out to give her a hand as she sways in place. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She latches onto his arm because her joints are on fire right now and it’s less humiliating to need support than collapsing and him having to carry her. “Just peachy.” The bed suddenly seems very far away. She concentrates on the ugly checkered bed sheet ahead of her like it’s the only thing in existence and pushes her body forward one half step at a time.

Finally her fingertips brush against fabric and she heaves her body over the bed with a groan. Every pore of her skin feels like a miniature furnace. She doesn’t have the strength to scream. She wishes she could, wishes she had a set of lungs that could strip the glass from the windows with a long, curling howl.

Cool petals of water brush against her forehead and she realizes that Castiel has put a wet towel on her forehead. It doesn’t do much to actually dim the fire raging through her veins, but the familiarity of the action is comforting.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The mattress creaks from the corner where he’s taken a seat. “I know how hard this is. You are an incredibly brave young woman.”

“Doubt that angel can get turned into werewolves,” she mutters.

“No, but--” he stops, prompting her to peer up at him from the corner of the towel.

“What?”

He’s sitting there with his hands in his lap again. “Well, I have been poisoned or infected by...things before. It may not be the same but... I know how hard it is to stay in control of both body and mind. What you’re doing, even now, is a testament to your great strength of will.”

“Wait.” Claire tries to push herself up on one elbow but only manages to lift her head a few inches. “When were you infected with what?”

“You should get some rest,” is his response as he leans over and fits a pillow under her head, then moves around to tuck the blanket around her chin. His fingers graze the side of her cheek; they feel like a bouquet of icicles. She leans into the touch desperately and his eyes cloud with sympathy.  

“Your cells are in chaos right now. Your body, your immune system is trying to fight off the mutation,” he explains. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Do you want to call--”

“No,” she says, loudly and quickly. If she allows herself to think about calling Jody--and hearing her voice--she’s going to dissolve on the spot. “Just--talk to me. Tell me about what happened when you were infected. What, was it like an angelic version of the zombie virus?”

Castiel sits down on the bed, still half on the edge like he’s unsure of how much space he’s been invited to take up. “No, there were several different--the first time was years ago.” He stalls, eyes growing distance even as they fixate on the floor below him. “I was full of souls from Purgatory. I…needed them to defeat Raphael. But then the power of those souls changed me. I thought I was God,” he finishes in an embarrassed mumble.

There's a lot to absorb from those few lines but above all the idea of this mild, awkward angel pretending to be the Almighty is what stands out to her. “You?” she laughs faintly. “What did Sam and Dean think of that?”

continue reading on ao3

[atmilliways]

Toki and Pickles, 2, 6, or 9? Any or none, whichever speaks to you. :)

[2+ characters and a number meme]

2, Kissing. 6, Comforting one another. 9, In bed/non-sexually sleeping together.

YOU GOT IT, ALL THREE. 1277 words, lol. Implied Charles/Pickles, sad because it’s set between Black Fire Upon Us and Renovationklok, Pickles is having a bad night and Toki just happens to walk in on it and try to comfort him, and some smooching happens. 

You Know What Admitting Sadness Means

.

Both of these men are competing starfish. They’ve known this for years, since the early days of getting stuck with each other as hotel roommates when on tours, before they had enough money for the big fancy bus with separate rooms, or even hotel rooms that had two double beds instead of just one. Back in those days, Toki’s hair had still been short and he’d always, always slept with a shirt on, even in fucking Florida in the summer. During the other three seasons Pickles, who tended to drink until he felt warm, strip down to his tighty whities, and half-wake up at some point in the night freezing his nuts off, had always appreciated the guy’s ability to throw body heat like a goddamned furnace. 

He had actually told him that once, and Toki had replied cheerfully that yes, he knew that, because his soul was already destined to roast over the spitfires of hell for an eternity of torment and pain for not following the rules laid down by a god that did not forget and did not forgive. Pickles had needed to take a few extra illicit substances that night just to get to sleep and forget the hauntingly empty look in his eyes while he’d said it.

These days, Toki’s hair is long and he doesn’t give two shits who sees his scars anymore. Pickles will automatically wake at the sound of retching out of decades of ingrained habit, unless he’s seriously passed out, but otherwise they’re both deep sleepers and don’t much care who flops on who in the night (or day, whenever, time is fake). And they don’t have to share a bed, but sometimes they do because Toki still gets nightmares. 

But since Charles died, things have been different. Everyone is withdrawn, shaken . . . and so freaked out by the Revengencer attack that they’ve literally strapped rockets to the bottom of their house and launched it into the sky for security purposes. Toki keeps his nightmares to himself because there’s already enough shit going around, he doesn’t want to add to it. 

Except, one night he can’t sleep. The pickled herring he ate earlier isn’t sitting right in his stomach and makes the thought of drinking unappealing. . . . Maybe Pickles will have something he can smoke or snort that will do the trick. He puts on his boots (Mordhaus is a constant construction zone these days, he’s learned not to run around barefoot the hard way) and clomps down the hallway in his pajama pants. 

“Pickle?” Toki stops himself just short of knocking, because knocking politely isn’t particularly metal. Instead, he nudges at it with the toe of one boot. The door creaks open a bit, so he pushes it farther and steps in. 

The room is a mess. Not that it’s spotlessly clean even at the best of times, but with all the repairs their servants are stretched pretty thin and it doesn’t look like anyone’s come to collect the recyclables in a while. It reeks of spilled beer and spirits, stale smoke, and unwashed sheets—but all that is metal, so it’s probably fine. 

What isn’t fine is Pickles, who’s clutching his pillow to his chest instead of laying on it and thrashing sluggishly under just a thin blanket, obviously trapped in a nightmare of his own. Before he can decide what to do Toki steps on a can, and the crunch of aluminum sends Pickles shooting bolt upright with a strangled yell. 

“Sorries!” Toki yelps automatically, holding up both hands. “Sorries, Pickle, ams just Toki!”

Pickles stares at him, wide-eyed and panting, then blinks hard until some of the wild, sleep-glazed look fades from his eyes. “Toki?” he asks hoarsely, and coughs. 

“Sorries, I couldn’t sleeps and I thoughts maybe Pickle will had somesthing whats maybe helps, ands the door—”

“Toki,” Pickles interrupts. To Toki’s surprise, it looks like his eyes are already red-rimmed, not in (just) a super fucked up way but like he’s been crying. His eyes are even starting to well over. Pickles takes a deep breath, and the rest comes tumbling out in a thin, scratchy wail: “Toki, I couldn’t save ‘im an’ he died an’ he, I couldn’t—H-he’s just dead, he’s dead an’ it’s all my fault!”

Fuck not caring about each other by band agreement. Toki is at his side in a second and pulls the smaller man into a tight hug, a cold lump of metal pressed between their bare chests as though Pickles is wearing some sort of necklace with a pendant on it. Tears form in his own eyes because he knows exactly what Pickles means. Toki hasn't dreamed about Charles, but they’re all feeling the guilt these days. For not appreciating him enough when he was still alive. For not getting there in time to save him. Hell, even if Toki had gotten there earlier he still would’ve been too loaded to be of any use, Nathan would’ve had to do it all alone. . . .

“Ams not your faults, Pickle.” Toki tries to reassure, but at the same time this feels like what he’s witnessing might go deeper than simple guilt. Pickles is shaking, pressing streaming eyes against Toki’s shoulder and bawling into his chest. This is something far more raw and brutal, devoid of any of the trappings of pretending not to care. Right now Pickles clearly doesn’t give a shit about one anyone thinks. 

“He’s gone, he’s goooooooooone!”

“Theres there,” Toki mumbles, rubbing his back awkwardly—a tiny gesture in the face of a giant tsunami of grief. 

He holds him until the sobs die down, until Pickles moves to unexpectedly return the embrace. 

“Feck. Toki, I’m . . . I’m real fecked up ri’now, c’you jest—”

“I won’t tell no ones,” Toki assures him quickly. 

At the same time as Pickles says, “—kiss me?” The drummer pulls back just enough so they can make eye contact. “Please, jest, close yer eyes and lemme pretend it’s him, jest one last time. . . .”

“Whats,” Toki starts to ask. He’s interrupted by lips crashing into his, facial hair scratching and tickling around his mouth. 

Pickles kisses him with longing and passion and urgent desperation the likes of which Toki has never experienced before, not even close. The swamping wave tumbles him head over heels, making it difficult to tell up from down, waking him up in ways he hadn’t even realized he’d been tired; the kiss tastes like booze and snot and sleep-breath and dispair. And maybe . . . maybe it is their manager Pickles wants to be kissing, for whatever reason, but Charles isn’t here. God, fuck, Charles isn’t here. It’s just Toki, and Toki wants to comfort his friend (and maybe even be comforted in return, even if his own feelings don’t run quite as deep). 

They spend the rest of the night together in Pickles’ bed. Sometimes Pickles dozes off, then wakes crying again. Sometimes they end up making out like their lives depend on it, and sometimes it’s slow and soft and so tender that Toki’s heart aches. But eventually Pickles drifts off and stays there, breathing slow and even against the crook of Toki’s neck; he’s finally gone past the dreams to the other side and is actually getting some rest. 

Toki has so many thoughts about everything that’s just happened that he doesn’t expect to fall asleep himself, but eventually he does. 

Both of these men are starfish, but tonight it’s less competition and more collaboration. Pickles lays sprawled on top and Toki stretches out beneath him, one arm looped protectively around his friend. Between the two of them, they manage to take up the entire bed. 

Even the empty side.

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 6

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  (Papyri Harem) Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader,  Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader

Characters:  Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Blue (US Sans), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Additional Tags:  Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, Reader has curly hair,  Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Romance if you squint, Subtext, Let Papyrus be Sassy, Edge Is The Unwilling Dad Friend, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life, Blue Is A Little Shit, I Love Him For It

If you prefer, you can read this fic on AO3.

*Reader, it's time to learn how to be spoiled!

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

It had been a mad rush after confirming she would be going to the skeleton household today.  Or at least she rushed as much as she could and thankfully her muscles were loosening up the more she moved.  While she was going over to bathe and do her hair, she refused to not at least freshen up a bit.  She did just that best she could with a damp rag, some soap, and deodorant.  A quick splash of water on her face and she deemed herself fresh enough for now.  Grabbing a towel, she patted herself dry before she began her multitasking adventure to get dressed and pack her “overnight” bag.  

Eyes raking over her counter, taking in all her products, she found herself blanking on just what products she should go with today.  Usually, she had more time to choose at her leisure.  She couldn’t realistically drag everything with her.  Okay, maybe that wasn’t so true anymore considering the things she has seen the skeletons store in their inventory decks.  Just how that worked she still had no clue.  Monster tech and magic was amazing.  

“I’ll just go with what my hair needs,” she decided and looking into her mirror, she scrutinized her locks and looked for any obvious damage.  Next, she reached a hand up to feel at her curls and pulled one to see how well it sprung back.  Last, she checked her scalp and found some build up, but thankfully no dandruff patches on the skin she could see.  “Moisture and clarify it is,” she stated her final decision and quickly plucked the needed items and product.  She added her body soap, butter, and scrub as well.  

With the toiletries out the way, she dashed back out to her room and placed the bag on her bed.  Her legs burned each time she had to bend over to collect strewn clothes and her arms twinged as she chucked said garments into her hamper.  Floor cleared, she picked out her change of clothes for later--just something comfy to lounge in--and threw on something quick for now.  It didn’t match, but oh well.  Not like she’d be wearing it for long. 

She’d skipped wearing a bra.  She had no plans to wear a bra period today and that was not changing!  Running around her apartment and completing little chores, she found herself reneging on the decision.  She was going over to someone’s house.  Why did it feel rude to skip an undergarment?  Papyrus was her best friend and she was cool with the rest.  Some little voice reminded her that it was a house full of men she was going to.  Skeleton men mind you, but men nonetheless.  Foot tapping as she put away her last cleaned dish, she huffed with a little stomp of her foot before marching back into her room.

“A bralette should do,” she sighed as she dug out an acceptable compromise.  It would be enough to appease the surprising prude in her.  No sense in torturing herself when she was supposed to be relaxing.  The girls now contained, she slipped her shirt back on, and checked her phone for the time.  Time had really flown and she only had a few more minutes.  She spent those last few minutes stripping her bed and replacing the sheets, pillow covers, and comforter with a new set.  She would start a load of laundry, but horror stories of fires starting or soapy flooding from unattended machines held her back.  She’d just have to do it tomorrow.

Smoothing out the sheets and arranging her pillows one last time, she nodded in satisfaction before checking her phone once again.  Time was up.  Grabbing her bag, she left her room to wait in the living room.  Blue and Pap were quite proud of their punctuality and the two would be here any minute surely.  Minutes ticked by while she busied herself on her phone.  She’d even gotten a text back from Coffee confirming he was fine drawing a better reference for her, so long as she modeled for him.  Well, she was going over anyway, why not?  She agreed and all he sent back was a smiley face emoji.  It was somehow intimidating.  How? She had no clue.   Maybe she should have asked for details.

Her eyes wandered to the clock on her screen.  Sighing, she pushed her irritation and worry aside.  She wondered if this would become a trend.  The reasonable part of her knew the two could not always be expected to be perfect all the time.  No one is perfect.  Consistent, but not perfect.  “But would it kill them to send a text at least,” she griped as she stretched out on the couch so as to avoid pacing and working nerves.  Placing her phone down face down on the floor beside her, she settled and closed her eyes.  She focused on the sound of her house settling around her and nature just past her walls.  

She stayed like that, nearly dozing off, until a knock at her balcony door had her jolting awake and gasping as a shock of pain shot through her stiffened body.  Sitting up, she peeked over the back of the couch with squinting eyes.  She was sure she very much resembled a gremlin poking its head up at that moment.  Chuckling at the amusing image that painted, she let her expression relax as she saw her two escorts waiting to be let in. 

It took a minute to get up and open the door for them with her muscles having stiffened up.  From the look the two were giving her, she guessed it was obvious how much she was struggling.

“PAPYRUS, WHAT DID YOU AND EDGE DO TO HER?!” Blue fretted, gloved hands reaching out to steady her and take some of her weight.  His big, round eyelights were a bit wobbly as they flitted from her face to down her body.  Did she look that bad?  

“I’m fine, Blue,” she assured with a little laugh, “Just a little stiff and sore.”  He didn’t look convinced and Papyrus was looking worried now as well.  Oh no.  “Seriously, guys!  I’m fine!  Or I will be, humans just take time to recover from a hard workout like those two gave me last night,” she elaborated, hoping she wouldn’t have to go into the details about human muscles and how they work.  She just wanted her spa day to start.  Silence greeted her and she looked between the two as they shared a long look before nodding.  “Guys-!!!?”  Her question was cut off with a surprised yelp as large skeletal hands gripped her under her armpits and lifted her off the ground.  

“IT HAS BEEN DECIDED!” Papyrus declared as he carried back over to the couch and deposited her on the cushions.  “TO MAKE UP FOR AND REWARD YOU FOR LAST NIGHT, YOU WILL NOT LIFT A FINGER TODAY,” he stated it with such confidence.  She swore she saw sparkles around him.  

Dumbfounded, she could only stare as Blue piped in with just as much enthusiasm.  “YUP! WE’LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING!” he was already moving and she could hear him rifling in her kitchen, “AND WE’LL START WITH THE CHORES THAT YOU WERE PLANNING TO DO BEFORE HEADING TO THE HOUSE.”  Chores?  They were actually going to do them for her? Seriously?  Her lips parted to assure them they really didn’t have to, but a warm mug filled with chocolatey goodness and marshmallows shoved into her hands stunned her into silence again.

“YES.  SO, JUST RELAX,” Papyrus had knelt down to be on eye level with her after taking the throw blanket from off the back of her couch and wrapping it loosely around her shoulders.  “LET US TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING.”  The words were a request, but the tone was a command.  Breaking away from his eyelights, she stared down into her mug as she thought it over.  She wasn’t used to having things done for her.  More specific, she wasn’t used to being spoiled.  She knew how to take care of herself by the time she was eight and even take care of her siblings in some cases.  

Naked phalanges entered her vision before the digits gently tipped her head back up by her chin.  Forced to look into Papyrus’s imploring sockets, she worried at her lip.  “Let Me Take Care Of You, Please?”  Oh.  Oh no.  That should be illegal.  She could feel warmth blooming in her chest and she hoped the gods would be merciful enough to not let her fluster show.   

A deep breath in and slowly let out, she offered an unsteady smile, “Okay, Papi.”  Papyrus practically lit up the room with his pleased smile.  She was doing good until someone cleared their throat and suddenly she remembered that they were not alone.  There went any hopes that she wasn’t a blushing mess.  She regretted peaking at Blue from the corner of her eye as he had quite possibly the biggest shit eating grin on his skull as he sent her waggled his brows teasingly.  She drowned her embarrassment in hot chocolate in hopes the mug was big enough to hide away her burning cheeks.

Blue must have felt merciful today as he asked for a quick rundown of what needed to be done and she filled them in.  He hummed, eyelights rolling to the ceiling, “SHOULDN’T TAKE MORE THAN AN HOUR THEN.  MAYBE LESS!”  He waved to Papyrus, urging him to get up and get started, “LET’S GET STARTED!”  Blue’s sockets seemed to curve as that teasing lilt returned, “PAPI~!” She about choked on her hot chocolate.  That little sh-!  Hiding her pout behind the mug, she sent a little glare the gremlin’s way and he just beamed innocently like he had done nothing wrong.  

The nickname had started as a play on his usual nickname “Papy” and it stuck after she found she couldn’t stop herself from pronouncing that way after one too times.  Whether Papyrus was even aware of the word play was unknown, but Blue, Cash, Mal, and Wine had made it obvious they knew what she was saying.  And all of them loved teasing her for it.  

Papyrus patting her knee brought her out of her brooding as he agreed they should get started and gave her one more firm reminder to stay put and if she needs anything, to call for them.  With that, she was left to nurse her hot chocolate as the two bustled around her home and every now and then they would ask where something was or went.  Comfortable chatter filled her small home.  At some point, Papyrus traded her empty mug  with a simple breakfast of steamed rice and a fried egg.  Something so simple somehow tasted so much better in that moment.  She ended up dozing off after that and they didn’t wake her until it was time to go.  

○●○●○●○●○

Blue had been the one to gently nudge her awake, “We’re All Done, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased.  An amused laugh burst past his teeth as the sleeping human swatted at his hand and tried to turn away.  All she accomplished was smooshing her face into the fabric of the couch she laid on and right in the little wet spot that had formed from her drool.  Edge had once told them that cats sometimes drool when they are very content.  If humans are anything like felines, then he was flattered she felt so comfortable around them, but he needed her to wake up.  He’d rather not move her in her sleep and have her disoriented and confused at the drastic change in scenery.

He poked a gloved phalange into her cheek firmly, “YOUR SPA DAY IS WAITING,” he urged.  She only made a disgruntled little noise, brows pinching and eyelashes twitching.  “PAPYRUS CAN’T SPOIL YOU IF YOU DON’T WAKE UP~” he goaded, voice low so his fellow skeleton didn’t hear.  Papyrus was currently finishing up folding the dressings for her bed.  She mumbled something incoherent and he blew a raspberry before finally just pinching her cheek and pulling.  That did it as her eyes flew open and she jerked to an upright position with a noticeable cringe.  Whoops.  He just offered an apologetic smile as she leveled an irritated glare his way.  

Soon enough, her glare eased and she looked around curiously, “Y’all are done already?” There was disbelief in her voice.  

“YUP,” Blue just shrugged and grinned as he straightened up.  A little magic goes a long way.  Normally, Papyrus would have been against using magic to speed through chores, but he was just as eager to start their human’s spa day.  It was honestly adorable seeing the two interact and he felt a little bad for his brother.   He had some stiff competition.  Heh… “stiff.”  He snorted at his little inside joke and found herself snorting again at the confused and concerned expression she was currently wearing.  He waved off her concern, “SO, ARE YOU READY TO GO?”

Her eyes narrowed as she lifted a brow, but didn’t dig or push him to explain.  Instead, she sighed and gestured to her abandoned bag on the floor next to her sofa.  “As ready I think,” she answered, voice a little unsure.

“DO YOU THINK YOU FORGOT SOMETHING?  I COULD GET IT FOR YOU,” he offered as he picked up her bag and set it on the couch just beside her.  He watched as she took a moment to think.  She was worrying her lip again and he clicked his teeth to get her attention.  As soon she was looking, he gestured to his mouth and she reluctantly released her abused lip.  

“Thanks, Blue,” she laughed as he just gave her a thumbs up, “but I’m honestly not sure.  I tried to cover all my bases and packed as much as I could without taking my whole house with me…”  He could feel that the bag was heavy.  Did humans need so much to take care of their hygiene?  Or was it simply because it was a special occasion?

“WHAT HAVE YOU PACKED SO FAR?” he questioned, nudging the bag curiously.

“Shampoo and conditioner obviously.  But my hair was looking a little dry so I included a hair mask.  Then I have my leave-ins, oils… stuff for bathing…” she trailed off as she listed what she could remember throwing in the bag, squinting at said object as she spoke like it could tell her what it contained.   

Meanwhile, he could feel his eyelights swelling as she continued, “GOLLIE!  AND YOU’RE STILL UNSURE IF YOU HAVE EVERYTHING?” He found himself thankful he didn’t have hair or skin.  It sounded like a lot of maintenance.  

“Well… I just didn’t want to be rude and bring too much,” she started and his sockets widened in realization as she elaborated, “Like I wouldn’t mind doing a body scrub or bringing a bath bomb.  Y’know, pamper myself a bit?”  There was a moment of silence before his eyelights formed into stars as she sent her a brilliant smile.  

“WE INVITED YOU OVER TO PAMPER YOURSELF, SILLY!” he laughed.  She was pouting as he reprimanded her goodnaturedly.  “NOW!  TELL ME WHAT ELSE YOU NEED AND I’LL GET IT,” he demanded.  A few more assurances that it was fine and she was giving him directions to said items.  Back and forth, he would retrieve an item and show it to her for approval before adding it to her bag.  On his last trip back, he nearly ran right into Papyrus who had finished putting up her now clean bed linens.  

“OOF! SORRY PAPYRUS!” he apologized as he dodged the taller skeleton and kept going.

“WHAT’S THE RUSH?” Papyrus questioned as he closed her bedroom door once they were both through and followed after the blue bolt.  

“OH! AM I RUSHING?! SORRY,” Blue gasped, forcing himself to slow down and move at a more reasonable pace.  Stopping by the couch, he showed her the last item and she nodded.  He deposited it into the bag and zipped it closed.  Lifting the bag experimentally, he found it not too heavy to carry.  At least for him, it wouldn’t be difficult. 

“Blue was helping me pack a few last minute things, Papi,” she explained after the curious look Papyrus had given them, “and that was the last one.” 

Blue laughed as Papyrus went to pick up the bag and while he seemed to lift it easily, he still made a noise in surprise at the heft.  “WOWIE! ALL OF THIS IS FOR YOUR HAIR?!” he exclaimed in amazement and soon enough, their human friend was laughing along with Blue.  In between laughs, she managed to explain that not all of it was.   Papyrus seemed to be vibrating in excitement by the end and it had the other two occupants of the room curious what had him so excited.  “HOW THOUGHTFUL OF YOU TO MAKE SURE WE HAVE EVERYTHING TO PROPERLY TAKE CARE AND PAMPER YOU THIS EVENING!” his proud  words seemed to burst from him.  

Blue could only blink at his companion before looking over to the human who was once again in a stupor.  Finally, an intelligent “Huh?” dropped from her lips.  She had looked to him for some explanation, but he just shrugged.  He wanted to see where this went.  Not getting an answer from him, she looked back to their towering, practically glowing companion.  “What do you mean, Papi?” she pressed gently, leaning towards the skeleton in question.

Without hesitation, Papyrus did not disappoint, “GOODNESS, YOU MUST BE IN WORSE SHAPE THAN I THOUGHT IF YOU FORGOT ALREADY.” His words held genuine concern and Blue managed to smother a little snort, determined to hear this out.  “I TOLD YOU THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU.  AND YOU AGREED TO LET US DO JUST THAT!”  

Blue’s eyelights were widening as listened and he could see the human was reacting in much the same fashion as she came to the same realization.  Making eye contact with her, he grinned and his sockets curved with how wide his smile was.  He could see the betrayal in her eyes as he chirped in, “THAT’S RIGHT.  YOU’RE NOT LIFTING A FINGER IF WE CAN HELP IT.”  She looked so overwhelmed and lost.  “GET READY TO SPOILED ROTTEN!” he finished, pointing dramatically at her and Papyrus joined in.  

For a while, she was doing a very impressive impression of a fish out of water before snapping out of it and finding her voice.  “Wait!” she held her hands up, palms out to signal mercy.  He could see the gears in head turning and once glance between the two, he could see her giving in as she slumped.  “I know better than to try and change your minds,” she laughed, lips quirked to one side in resigned amusement, “BUT.”  She held up a single finger as her lips pressed into a determined line, “I have to set boundaries.”  Her brows lifted as her head tilted, signaling them to respond.

“UNDERSTANDABLE,” Blue chimed in, placing his hands on his hips.

Papyrus nodded along, “OFCOURSE, WE WOULDN’T WANT YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.”

Their human sucked in a deep breath before letting it slowly.  “I can bathe myself,” she stated simply.  Blue wanted to laugh, but he understood why she would be worried they might take it too far.  While he was sure Papyrus wouldn’t have tried, he couldn’t say the same for some of their housemates.  Both nodded and she sighed, relaxing back against the couch.  

Papyrus was worrying his hands and Blue looked from his fidgeting hands up to his face, “SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND, PAPYRUS?”  He was ready to get going and had already shouldered her bag as he felt out a shortcut.  

“WELL, I WAS JUST WONDERING IF WE COULD STILL HELP WITH HER HAIR…” he braided his fingers to stop them from fidgeting.  How had it skipped Blue’s mind that most of the Papyri were borderline obsessed with her hair.  Sadly, they had stopped trying to get their hands in it after Cash had told them she and humans like her with curly hair don’t like their hair touched by others.  He’d said she had told him last he tried and he had heard it in gossip as well.  But all that aside, this was the opportunity of a lifetime for Papyrus he realized.  No wonder he was so hyped up.  Looking at their curly haired friend, he was surprised at the soft smile she was sending Papyrus.

“Of course, you can help me with my hair, Papi,” she assured gently and lifted a hand to play with the curl at the end of one of her braids, “What’s a spa day without a trip to the salon?” she winked.  She took a moment to click her tongue as something else occurred to her, “Plus, I don’t think my arms are to the task anyway…” she admitted.  

Blue didn’t have to look at Papyrus to know he was practically shining in joy and soon enough his companion was sweeping their human into a twirling hug.  He could hear laughter turn into a groan and Papyrus was quick to adjust his hold so he wasn’t crushing her.  Once the two had settled, Blue approached and wrapped his fingers around Papyrus’s humerus.  “TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND CLOSE YOUR EYES, BEAUTY” he instructed, chuckling as she stuck her tongue out at him before doing as told.  He would have teased her for pressing her face into Papyrus’s chest, but he needed to focus.  “HERE WE GO!” he warned, mainly for their human companion before the living room was left abandoned as they made one more trip through the void.   

NEXT

[unstoppableforcce]

a new dawn

—CHAPTER NINE: stubborn

pairing: Poe Dameron x reader (modern au)

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: aw I hope y’all like where this is headed and I hope I did Leia justice, you’ll have to let me know! I just love Poe so much and I think this whole chapter is great !!

There were no words at first when he came down the stairs, he just wrapped his arms around you and sighed, letting you take the weight of his exhausted legs for a breath.

The pill bottle in your hand was carefully set back onto the counter as your hands went to lay over his and their tightening grip around your waist. As his head buried into your neck, he was caught between two thoughts, neither of which he wanted.

That he wasn’t what you deserved, and that he couldn’t live without you.

His grip tightened as he thought it, trying to push it all out of his mind. Those weren’t thoughts he was meant to have, Holdo told him that, they weren’t healthy...

“Did she finally get comfortable?” You hummed quietly to him as you held him back as tight as you from your position.

He nodded, “took about a dozen extra pillows but...”

Neither of you laughed, you didn’t have the energy for it.

It had been about two hours in the ER waiting room, him sitting with a nervously bouncing knee watching you desperately try to get any information out of the medical staff but coming up empty at every attempt. Then two hours after that once you were finally allowed to see her, but still waiting for the final test results. And even two hours after that to get her checked out, her medicine picked up, and safely back home.

You had worked a full shift yet you powered through the wee hours of the night like a champion, barely even yawning throughout the whole journey, a rock by his side. But he could feel it in you now as you let out a breathy exhale and fell back into him the same way he had into you, his grip practically all that was keeping the two of you up besides your front pressed against the counter.

You’re not sorry, Holdo had said, you’re grateful.

“Thank you for being with me...” he sighed into your hair, nudging his nose weakly against your ear before leaving an equally weak kiss against the bare skin just behind your ear. “Through everything...”

“There’s no place I’d rather be and you don’t have to thank me, Poe.”

He shook his head against you, “Thank you.”

That got the smallest hint of a chuckle from you, the most your exhausted lips could muster. It was a difficult twist in the tight grip he had around you, but once he realized what he was doing, he let you go until you were turned back to face him, your arms around his neck and shoulders, then he latched back on. “She’s going to be okay.”

After all the tests they ran, the doctors had come to the same conclusion. It really was just a fall as she was going up the stairs, bruising her hip and shoulder on her left side pretty substantially, cut up her elbow as it caught the lip of the stair, needed a few stitches, but besides that, she was going to be fine.

He nodded against you again, laying another weak kiss to the side of your face.

“Hey...” you turned his head with your lazy grip in his curls, making sure your stare couldn’t be avoided, “you’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah I know,” he smiled as best he could manage, “I’ve got you.”

Now was your turn to shake your head, “nah, you do that all on your own.”

One day, maybe that would be true. He would love for that to be true. But for now, faking it til he made it seemed like a pretty good tactic.

“You know,” you sighed, reaching behind you for the bottle of pills, “I bet I can find some pills in this pharmacy,” you vaguely gestured to the stacked collection of orange bottles, “to keep me awake long enough to drive home.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “The guest room is made up, I checked, so no pills for you.”

“Damn.” You joked, this time able to muster a bit more of a laugh, “she’s got some good stuff in here—“

He interrupted you with a kiss, shocking you at first but as soon as your caught on, you dropped the bottle behind you and buried your hands back into his curls.

Poe Dameron was many things. More than anything, he was a good man. But coming in a close second, he was a good kisser, truly amazing kisser when he put his heart into, and he always did. He needed to make sure that each and every time he touched his lips to yours, that you knew how much he loved you, just in case he couldn’t get the words out as often as he knew was necessary for someone like you, someone who deserved everything.

And it was hard not to feel a little high off of you when you kissed back the exact same way.

It had to be nearly three in the morning though and his exhaustion was much stronger than his desire to keep you up any longer after your tiring shift.

“Let’s go to bed?” He hummed against your lips and you nodded. “I’m going to try and call Han one more time, you can go ahead.”

“I’ll wait for you—“

“Nah, I’ll be quick, don’t worry.” He smiled, pressing one last kiss to your hairline before letting you pull away.

“Don’t be long.”

He didn’t plan to be, not as his stare followed you back up the stairs he had just come from. But he promised Leia he’d try again and according to her, he was somewhere for work where the time zones would actually work out better to be calling at three a.m.

Except he didn’t pick up. That was the fourth time that night that it rang out... he didn’t want to linger on it. Not with you waiting on him.

He followed you back up the stairs, silently checking that the light was off in the master bedroom where Leia was, then moving to the guest room down the hall and nudging the door open with his shoulder. And he couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of him. He maybe lingered a minute behind you to try and call Han and there you were, already asleep under the covers, like an Angel tangled up in the white of the sheets mere seconds after your head hit the pillow.

Stripping his jeans and shirt, he got in right alongside you, and quite the opposite happened. He felt more awake than ever even though he knew he was running on empty.

You seemed to sense the tension that flooded back into him even as you slept though, making an unconscious but valiant effort, draping your body over him and trading the plush pillows for his chest instead.

It should have helped, but he just couldn’t fall asleep.

Before he even realized it, there was light flooding in from the one window in the room and from beneath the door he had so haphazardly shut behind him as he fell into bed hours ago. You had moved at some point during the night, he didn’t really remember when, but he reached out for your hand and you still sleepily took it, not yet awake.

He considered trying again to fall back asleep, cuddling up behind you, but a clank of pans got to his ears before he could act, shaking you awake as well.

“Hmm what time is it?” You murmured, half awake at best, into the pillow.

“Go back to sleep.” It was only six in the morning, you deserved a few more hours than that.

“Poe?” You reached for him as he began getting up, but he just silenced you with a kiss.

“Don’t worry about it.” He adjusted the blankets over you then moved to grab his clothes back, “go back to sleep.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice...” you muttered, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He did, in fact, have to tell you twice but he was going to let that go, you were barely awake, he couldn’t exactly blame you. But it did kind of feel like you were still trying to make him love you more, even while asleep, and he couldn’t say it wasn’t working.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you pull into the sheets even more, burying your face, now overwhelmed with your slept in hair. It was definitely working, he concluded as he threw his shirt over his head and moved for the door.

Trudging down the stairs and let out an angry sigh when he caught sight of the kitchen just at the bottom, the one he had held you in so very recently, his mood shifting faster than you had fallen asleep last night.

“What the hell are you doing?” He exclaimed, keeping his voice down only to keep you asleep, not to dim his anger in the slightest as he saw Leia holding a heavy pan over the stove. He rubbed over his eyes a few times, just to make sure it wasn’t a mirage, but he knew better than to underestimate her like that.

This was the real woman he called his god mother, stood right in front of him, preparing breakfast when she was supposed to be bed ridden and definitely staying away from stairs by herself.

She seemed unphased however, “I’m making breakfast, I make breakfast every Saturday, Poe, especially since I knew you were here—“

“You were in the hospital last night, Leia.”

“Yeah and hospitals make you hungry, are you trying to tell me you’re not hungry?” She finally turned to look at him, the light bruise on her cheek still prominent against her skin and her graying hair tied up in an intricate braid that seemed nearly impossible for her to have done herself since last night with her bruised shoulder and stitches.

As if he needed more reasons to be amazed by her.

“Leia, I told you to wake me when you wanted to come downstairs, that I needed to help you—“

“I managed just fine on my own,” she shushed him with a wave of her spatula, “does she eat bacon or I can make pancakes—“

He blew out a harsh breath as he reached over her and help her grab the plates she was reaching for. She was so goddamn stubborn... even he could see the irony in his infuriation with it given his tendency to be the most stubborn person around. He had to get it somewhere.

“You fell down the stairs last night.” He reminded her and she rolled her eyes, “you need to take it slow.”

“I don’t go slow, Poe, never have.”

He sighed again, leaning back against the counter to watch her as she worked almost unabated by her fresh injuries. “Leia—“

“Does she prefer pancakes or waffles? Or bacon and eggs?”

Was this what it was like for you to deal with him? The avoiding of any questions related to his heath, the unabashed stubbornness, the unwillingness towards anything that he didn’t want to do... the comparison was uncanny, he had just never noticed it before.

How you put up with him, he did not fully understand.

“Poe?” She was turned over her shoulder to look back at him, brows furrowed the same way his got when he was confused.

He shook his head, “we’re going to need to talk about you moving to a place with no stairs if Han is going to be away for a while.”

“Yeah... I guess I didn’t make as good of a choice there as you did.” She joked, getting a laugh out of both of them, “should have gone for a doctor instead of an international importer...”

“You’re avoiding the point.” He continued but she merely rolled her eyes.

“I can handle the stairs, Poe, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He wished that were true, but he just couldn’t help himself.

His mother used to say that he had the biggest heart in the whole galaxy, she said that was his super power when all he wanted was a cape. And when he stood around at her funeral, everyone who spoke said the same thing about her, Leia specifically.

“You mother used to worry all the time,” Leia had knelt beside him as just a boy, stood in his black suit with the small tie his father had let him pick out with jets on it. “It’s how she showed people she cared.”

Her hands reached towards his tie, adjusting it around his collar, then moved towards to his face and swiped the tear out from under his eye.

“She cared a lot about you, you know that, right?” She reminded, brushing one of his loose curls back.

He was eight years old.

“You never said what she prefers...” Leia continued on, oblivious to his zoning out until she turned back for an answer and saw his stare plastered on the wood beneath his feet, his hand mindlessly twirling the ring around his neck. “Poe?”

He snapped back, rubbing his brow again as he finally answered, “you don’t have to go out of your way for us.”

But Leia’s mind was already moving on, her stare all too focused on the ring around his neck.

“I was meaning to ask about the two of you being back together.”

He shrugged, letting his hand drop from the ring, “ask about what?”

“You going to ask her to marry you any time soon?”

In a futile attempt to avoid her stare, he put his back to the tile floor, as if that could somehow turn her away instead of forcing her to invest herself even further.

“I’m serious Poe.”

His hand moved back to the ring around his neck as his mind began to drift again for a moment.

It was the day he was shipping out for his first tour of duty, his dad was admittedly stoic the whole morning as he packed his bag and drove him to the airport. He was a quiet man in general, but that day more so than any other. But it wasn’t like Poe could say he didn’t know why.

He couldn’t fathom what it must have been like to watch his only son suit up for war, the same war he and his wife both fought in. Kes’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than could possibly be comfortable, driving with arms straight and tense. Poe knew better than to try and shake him out of it.

Kes had to shake himself out of it.

And he did, pulling himself off the freeway long before the necessary exit, coming to a stop off the side of the road.

“Dad, I—“

“Your mother always knew you would be a pilot,” Kes let out through a strained throat, “she would have been so proud of you.”

Poe was at a loss for words, that heart his mother called the biggest in the galaxy nearly shattering as he heard his father’s voice crack.

Kes’s hand dug into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the chain and ring that were all too familiar to him now, the same one he twirled as he thought.

“Not that I think you’ll forget her, but with this around your neck, you’ll always have her close.”

He put it on the second it was put in his hand, he hadn’t taken it off since. He started twirling it a lot more since he met you though.

“If you ever need help shopping for a ring—“ Leia started, snapping him from his thoughts yet again.

He broke away from the memory long enough to shake his head. “I already have a ring.”

Leia’s smile nearly faltered at that, a melancholy happiness somehow managing itself across her face as she took a few steps across the kitchen to lay her hand gently over the ring, right over his heart. “That’s a wedding band—“

He laughed at that, moving his hand to hold hers, “no, I mean I have a real engagement ring.”

“When did you buy it?”

“Six months—“

“Before you two separated? And you didn’t tell me?”

He laughed again, a much heartier chuckle. “I bought it six months after we started dating, right when I got back from my first tour while with her.”

The two of you had been together nearly three years at this point...

Leia’s face shifted into a much more surprised smile, elated by the knowledge and at a complete loss for words, so he filled the silence, still trying to keep his voice down while he rubbed small circles on the back of her hand still held over his heart.

“I was supposed to be helping Snap look for an anniversary gift for Karé, he caught me staring at the rings.” He laughed gently, finally glancing up to meet her stare. “I told him I thought it was too early, you know, I thought it was just my big heart acting up too soon but he... he had a way of seeing through me.”

“How’d you afford it?” She snickered, “I always said I’d help with a home loan or something big like that—“

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it’s not that nice...” he couldn’t help but join her in the laughter. “It’s simple.”

“Where is it?”

He laughed again, his heart warming more and more each second her hand lingered over it and the laughter forced out of his throat. “The box is folded in a sock in the bottom of my underwear drawer.”

“Classy.” She smiled, reaching her other hand up, with a slight flash of pain showing on her face as it was from her bruised side, to brush a ring of curls back onto his head, just like she had done when he was a boy. “Why haven’t you asked her yet?”

He shrugged, “I was waiting for the right moment, then there was the crash and I came back a mess and had much bigger problems to worry about...”

“And now?”

“Now what?” It was your voice this time, snapping him from his thoughts and sending a shock through his body forcing him upright. You were still brushing your hands through your tangled mane of hair as you descended the stairs, “what are we talking about?”

He cleared his throat, looking to Leia who gave him a quick wink then back to you, “she wants to know what you want for breakfast.”

“I want her sitting on the couch and not making breakfast.” You smiled, finally landing in the kitchen and leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek as she easily grabbed you in a hug, “seriously, we can handle breakfast, you need to be resting.”

“Oh hush, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

“I’ve been trying to get her to stop this whole morning.” Poe argued, quickly accepting your kiss as you turned towards him. “She’s insufferable.”

“Well, it’s doctor’s orders this time,” you added, stealing the spatula off the counter before she could reach for it.

“I’m perfectly capable of making breakfast for you two—“

“Go sit, please.” Both you and Poe pleaded simultaneously, laughing as you did.

“You too, Poe.” You urged, nudging him gently as Leia held up her hands in surrender and moved towards the couch, “I know you didn’t sleep last night...”

“I’m fine.” He fought but you further nudged him out of the kitchen, “babe—“

Leia grabbed him and pulled him the rest of the way, making sure to lean in one last time and brush his curls back, whispering in his ear, “I think now is as good a time as any, Poe.”

He merely chuckled, “insufferable.”

But as he helped settle Leia into the couch and sat down next to her, he stole a glance back at you in the kitchen and couldn’t help the smile that fought its way to his lips.

Maybe she had a point.

—

->tags:( pls let me know if I missed you or you want to be added )

@imaginecrushes @somuchrandomshxt @itsamedeemoney @blushingwueen @grincheveryday @tommy-holland @shakespeareanwannabe @mad-hatters-teapot

[hoodoo12]

Oki oki so this might be oddly specific, but imagine, he has a crush on one of his friends, (and they obviously like him back but he’s oblivious) so one day when they have a sleep over or something, and uh oh he’s got a problem so he decides to take care of it, essentially starts getting himself off to the thought of his crush, and well say his crush hears him, goes to investigate and decides to help him, this leads to a confession and a dom crush(if you’re uncomfortable with this that’s oki :3)

Oh heck yes. This one was fun. Thank you!

NSFW, Dewey Finn/f!reader, voyeurism, masturbation, safe sex

The Next Step

“It’s too late to walk home. It’s raining! Just stay here.”

“It’s only three in the morning! I’ll be fine!” “Dewey, seriously. Just stay here. I’ll fix up the couch. And make you pancakes for breakfast.” “Waffles?” he asked in reply, batting his eye lashes at you. You laughed and slapped him on the chest. “If it means you’re not walking home in the middle of the night in the rain, then yes! I’ll sweeten the deal and make you waffles!” He grinned and agreed.

Although it wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture ever made, you set him up on your couch, as promised. With sheets and a real bed pillow even, and not just a blanket and whatever lumpy throw pillow was available. Wishing him a good rest of the night, you went to your tiny windowless closet of a bedroom. You heard Dewey shuffling around for a bit as you stripped down to just your panties and climbed into bed, but soon your apartment was quiet and still, with only the sound of rain outside. That’d always been a soothing sound to you. Usually it sent you right to sleep, but tonight, after being in the bar your brain was too amped to let you drift away. You sighed, tried a different position, sighed again, flipped your pillow--the other one that you were used to having was out on the couch--sighed again, and tried to will yourself to be still. Maybe just pretending to be asleep would trick you into going to sleep.

Closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on the sound of the rain, your ears picked up on another sound. A faint gasp? A muttering? You were familiar with every sound this old apartment made, and those were not usual. 

Creeping out of bed, you quietly opened the door to investigate what fresh hell this place had in store for you. You really needed to find a new place--

You glanced around and took a step into the open living space, trying to be quiet and not wake Dewey, when a sharp gasp, quickly muzzled, caught your attention. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and ambient light from outside even with the rain, helped. What you saw in washed out grey tones, however, was not what you were expecting.

Dewey, your friend, someone you hung out with and had a great time with, someone you’d kinda-sorta developed a crush on even if he was too oblivious to realize it, had his face buried sideways in the pillow you’d loaned him. He’d kicked the blanket and sheets you’d provided off and had shoved his underwear down to his knees. His hand was on his cock, stroking it leisurely. You watched as his hand increased its speed and he pulled his face out of your pillow to gasp and breathe. He moaned a word-- --your name-- --before shoving his face back into the pillow to muffle himself. His hand also slowed, but you saw his hips push upward into himself. Your face was on fire, seeing such an intimate moment. That fire was in your belly too, though; you wouldn’t deny there had been times your hand was at the junction between your legs with his name on your lips too. You should be embarrassed. You should give him his privacy. You should step back into your bedroom. You didn’t. It suddenly dawned on you that you were standing in the dark, watching Dewey stroke himself and hearing your name come out of his mouth, voyeuristically, in just your panties. Was is right? No. Was it hot? Yes. While you debated yourself whether to return to your bed or be bold and finally admit to him you thought about him in a much more intimate way than simply being friends, Dewey opened his eyes. It was hard to read expressions in the dark, but the horrified gasping he gave catching sight of you gave you a pretty good idea he was mortified. That, and his scramble to pull up his pants and cover himself with the blanket that managed to do neither told you more than enough. Still, the fact that he’d been jerking off and obviously thinking about you gave you a rush of confidence you wouldn’t have imagined possible. Almost without thinking, you picked your way barefoot close to the couch. The floor creaked a little under your feet and before you knew it, you were standing beside him. He’d continued to try and readjust his briefs, continued to struggle with it, and instead managed to yank the sheet back up for some semblance of decorum, here in the dark. “You don’t need to to that,” you told him, reaching for the hem of the sheet and tossing it back down his legs, putting him back on display again. “You didn’t finish. I can’t imagine you’re going to get much sleep without taking care of that.” You nodded towards his groin. And who were you?! “It’ll--” Dewey’s voice was high pitched and cracked. He swallowed and tried again, in more his regular voice. “It’ll go away. I’m, uh, surprised it hasn’t already!” He hadn’t removed his shirt, but you let your gaze leisurely stroll over his body. With the help of the streetlights, your eyes had adapted well enough to the dark to see that his nipples poked his shirt, and that his lower belly was exposed. He’d covered himself with his hand after the aborted attempts to use underwear or bed linens. “It looks uncomfortable. There’s no way you’ll get to sleep like that.” His eyes widened. It seemed clear he was wondering who you were too. Sure, you’d touched his arm and wrist and chest even tonight. Sure, you’d brushed his hair back from his face more times than you could count. Sure, you’d hugged him and kissed his cheek(s) randomly, sometimes not even when you were drunk. And he’d done most of the same to you. Maybe he’d never touched your chest, but there had been times he’d slipped an arm around your waist after a really good set when he was really pumped up. But all that aside, neither of you had ever overtly expressed feelings for each other--until you spied on him right now.

Dewey’s eyes flicked down your body, and it suddenly came rushing back that you were standing beside him in just your panties. Your decidedly damp panties, not that he was aware of that. Your feet moved you without conscious thought closer to the couch; you walked like you were going to stop near his head but continued along side it to where his legs stretched out. You felt his hand ghost over the cotton panties covering your ass as you walked past him.

Turning so you looked up his body from knees to face, you raised an eyebrow. His expression, with wide eyes and a loosened jaw, had a bit of hopefulness in it, and his chest rose and fell in a quick but noiseless pant. “Do you want help with that, Dewey, or would you like to finish yourself off? I could leave, or I was thinking maybe I could sit right here?” Over the tops of his thighs, you mimicked the light touch he’d given your ass. For a moment he seemed overwhelmed with the questions. He licked his lips, then repeated it, then swallowed. You used your nails on his legs, and he jumped liked he’d been stung. That also seemed to spur him, because he licked his lips a third time and croaked out, “I’d, uh--I mean, you can stay, it’d be cool if you stayed and Iwouldn’tmindifyousatthere.”

The end of the sentence smeared together and now his eyes squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t believe he’d just asked you to sit on his bare thighs, even though it’d been your bold suggestion. Your answer wasn’t verbal; you simply agreed by balancing on one foot and lifting the other leg to straddle his upper thighs. Your bent knee pushed in between his leg and the cushion on the back of the couch, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His skin was warm between your own legs. Dewey groaned softly as you settled into place. “This okay?” He nodded, his eyes still closed. “So you want to show me how you get yourself off, or would you like me to do it?” In response, the hand he’d been using to shield himself wrapped around his shaft again. You caught your breath as you had a front row view to him giving himself a stroke. Here in the cool grey tones of the dim room your eyes were riveted to his groin. Of course his hand was well practiced and moved along his cock from base to tip; you didn’t miss the squeeze he gave himself when his fist returned to its starting point before repeating the motion. A bead of pre-come glistened at the slit of his head, but he didn’t swipe a thumb over it to remove it. His light moans filled your ears over the sound of the rain patting the windows. Even mostly undressed, it suddenly became too hot in here. Dewey under you, stroking himself off, was arousing, and your hands went to your tits to cup them and play with your own nipples. Tiny thrills of pleasure from that made you shiver, and you moaned a little too. You had an urge to run your hands over him to his chest, to pinch his nipples too, and one hand actually dropped to his hip. Dewey’s hand paused at that touch, although he didn’t stop completely. When you were able to pull your attention from the action at his groin to look up his body at him, you saw that he was watching you with half-lidded eyes and his lower lip caught tightly between his teeth. “Can I?” you asked. Your voice sounded a little raspy, and you realized it was because you’d been breathing through your mouth and your throat was dry. Dewey nodded, even though you didn’t articulate exactly what you were asking permission for. Still, agreement was agreement. Your hand slid from his hip to his belly, skirting his cock but following the thicker trail of hair from his pubic bone to his navel. Rucking his tshirt up as you continued, you left it bunched up by his shoulders as you exposed his chest. Then, just as you’d wanted to do, your thumb and first finger found his nipple, and rolled it lightly. He jerked. That was an okay response, but not exactly what you were hoping for. Since most of this had happened without you thinking everything through rationally, you continued the trend as you leaned over him to put that same nipple in your mouth. If you rolling his nipple was a minor jolt, your lips and teeth on the same spot was a live wire. Dewey arched his back and gave his first actual cry. You grinned around the bit of his flesh you had in between your teeth, and flicked it with your tongue to hear him do it again. His free hand came up to the side of your head and he grabbed it to keep you in place. You obliged, applying a bit of suction this time, and his fingers tightened in your hair as he arched his back again. The move actually bucked you off balance and your fingers spread on his chest to steady yourself. Because you were stretched over him a bit, with his hand and cock trapped under you, you pushed yourself back, dragging your nails down him as you did. He groaned a little, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you’d left off his nipple or because he liked the light scratching through the hair on his chest and belly. As you righted yourself, you felt the tell-tale chill of wet just below your tits; the pre-come he’d neglected to wipe off the head of his cock left a slightly sticky smear there. 

The hand in your hair dropped to your shoulder, then your boob as you sat up. For a moment, Dewey’s hand seemed to have forgotten its task at his groin as the calloused fingers of the other cupped your right tit, and he gently tugged your nipple, like you’d done with his, although softer. You pressed into his hand a little, and caught the quick grin that replaced his slack-jawed expression at the encouragement. The roughness of his fingertips made your nipple harden and you laughed, a little. 

He flashed a bigger smile, the cute one that typically made you feel giddy when you saw it. Here in the dark, wearing only panties, sitting on his thighs, with one of his hands on his cock and the other on your tit, it made a heavier warmth settle in low in your belly. Each of you took a breath.

Out of the blue and without talking about it, the air between the two of you changed. A needy desperation gripped you and seemed to take hold of him too. His fingers tightened and gave your tit a pull. You gasped this time, and bent at the waist to run your tongue over the head of his cock. For the third time, Dewey cried out, and then nothing was happening fast enough.

You stood up to rid yourself of your underwear, holding on to him so you didn’t fall over in your haste. He didn’t release your tit; in fact, he grabbed the other one and squeezed them together, like that was going to help support you. You didn’t care. He also attempted to kick his own briefs further down his legs, but with his hands occupied he was not successful. You laughed and once you were completely nude, you took them by the elastic waistband and shucked them down to his ankles. His hands slipped to your waist, trying to guide you back into position above him. But--

You hated to bring everything to a screeching halt and you were pretty sure Dewey didn’t have anything that he could give you . . . except pregnancy, the rational part of your brain shouted, and that wasn’t what you wanted at this time in your life!

“Dewey--Dewey, wait, do you have a rubber? Wait, I’ve got one in my nightstand--” You extracted yourself from his grip even as he protested and tried to keep hold of you; you scrambled back to your bedroom. He called after you, “Why do you keep condoms in your nightstand? How many guys are you bringing home?” 

You heard the tease in his questions; he was a close enough friend that he knew you weren’t sleeping with anyone. In the back of your mind you actually wondered if the condoms you had were expired or not; you dismissed that thought. It’d be okay. In record time, you’d found the box and were back at the couch. Dewey’d taken the opportunity to rid himself of his briefs and his shirt, finally, and reached for you again even as you tore the thin cardboard of the box and extracted a condom. He guided you over his legs again while you tried to open the smaller package in the dark. Frustrated by your own fingers inability to complete this task as quickly as you wanted, you grabbed it between your teeth to open it.

Finally you ripped it open and, with Dewey hiked up on one elbow to watch the proceedings with wide eyes not just because of the dim lighting but because of arousal too, you took his cock in hand for the first time and rolled the rubber over him. He groaned at your touch and his hand went to the base of his cock to hold himself steady as you kept one foot on the floor and lifted yourself over him. Your fingers slick with lube, you ran them through your pussy, then, even though you were panting from anticipation, you paused a second and looked up at him. “You okay with this, Dewey?” you fretted lightly. He pulled his eyes away from your body and what was about to happen to catch your eyes too. His mouth was still open and his lips were shiny. “Are you kidding me?!” he blurted. “Of fucking course I’m okay with this! Yes--” The second the word that started with a ‘y’ left his mouth, it was what you needed to hear. You sank down onto him before his agreement was complete, his cock slipping deliciously into your pussy with some resistance, creating the most marvelous friction.

Dewey choked his own words off by dropping his head back with an open-mouthed whine. You held your breath as you let gravity help settle you into the cradle of his pelvis with his cock completely sheathed inside you. When your ass rested on his thighs, you stopped and panted in sharp little bursts; the feeling of him so deep in your pussy created a ripple effect of pleasure that spread throughout your body. 

After a second, you rocked experimentally, to find your range of motion. At the slight movement, Dewey’s hands grabbed your thighs and squeezed. He dropped himself flat on the couch and whined again, a keening noise that gave you a little thrill. You put your hands on his chest and leaned forward. Clumsily, you kissed his open mouth, and just as clumsily, he tried to return it. “Don’t most people--” he started to say. You lifted your hips. “--kiss--” His voice cracked on the word. You rolled back onto him. “--before they--” You raised yourself up again. “--fuck?” he finished. You paused, with just the head of his cock in your pussy. “You want to back this up and make out first? Make out instead?” you asked breathlessly. He cranked his eyes open. “Hell no. Fuck me--” His last two words came out more a questioning plea than an order, but you obeyed anyway, even as a final word escaped him, “--please--” Still learning your boundaries, you mostly kept him deep inside you to reduce the chance of him slipping out. You used your core to roll your hips instead of bouncing in his lap; he didn’t seem to care. His voice hitched as he moaned and squeezed your legs in time with your movements. Of course Dewey would find the rhythm in all this. Through your own moans, that made you smile.

With him obviously enjoying this, you chased your own bliss, grinding down on him so his pubic bone put pressure on your clit. That made brighter pleasure arc through you. You slipped a hand around his waist to the small of his back to make him bridge just a little, keeping his pelvis just slightly elevated so the feeling continued. Instead of increasing your movements you kept them small, so he stayed right where you needed him to make that pleasure grow.

A thin sweat broke out over you. You could feel it on him too. It didn’t seem to matter to him that you weren’t engaged in porn star quality thrusts. In fact, Dewey gasped, 

“I’m gonna--oh jesus, I’m gonna come--”

With that second’s worth of warning he bucked up into you with erratic pumps of his hips, almost dislodging you, throwing his head back and crying out loudly. You squeezed him both between your thighs and with your pussy to keep tight to him, and him being so deep inside you finished you off as well. The noise you made as you came rivaled his. Euphoria shut down your senses momentarily; all that existed was you and Dewey joined intimately, on your lumpy couch. As you drifted back to reality, you were shaking and you had to peel your hands off him. Dewey slipped a hand between you to hold onto the condom as you lifted yourself off him. Both of you groaned at the loss: him losing the sweet heat of your pussy and you losing his cock stretching you open. You stood up and waiting to get your bearings for a moment before shuffling to a table to grab some tissues. You passed a couple to him and shoved one between your legs. Then you stood for a moment, watching him extract himself from the condom and wiping himself up as your caught your breath. When he finished, he looked up and reached for you. You held your hand out and he pushed the crumpled tissues and wrapped up used condom into your hand. “Dewey! Gross!” He laughed and grabbed your wrist to try and pull you back down to him. You resisted, twisted your hand in his to take hold of his wrist, and tugged at him instead. His brow furrowed. “What’re you doing?” “Taking you to bed,” you replied. “After all that, you think I’m gonna make you stay on this crappy couch?”

With the same flash of adorable smile, he got up and followed you to your tiny bedroom, where it was darker. You dropped the trash he’d handed you into the bin along the way. Settling onto your mattress, there was a moment of the punchy, flustered awkwardness that accompanied first time intimacy. Well, you’d been bold up to this point, so why stop now? You snuggled close and his arm automatically went over you. You kissed him properly on the mouth. Dewey made a squeak of surprise, then he sighed, relaxed, and his tongue tentatively touched yours. You lapped at his but kept it soft. When you each ran out of breath, you stayed pressed against him.  “Thanks,” he mumbled in the dark. “Thank you,” you replied quietly. You wondered what he was thinking and if he was regreting it; you could both talk about what all this meant when the sun was up. He cleared his throat. Maybe he wanted to talk about it now-- “You’re still making me waffles, right?” Even if he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. His chuckle shook you both and he found your mouth again even as you pinched him, and eventually both of you settled down enough to fall asleep together. 

fin!

[yamithediaperdork]

Shopping with daddy OR Don’t be a brat!!! (My hero academia)

When your going to school, is there any better time of the year then summer vacation? Hell no, even if your school is far more awesome then most since your in training to be a superhero. And getting to spend your vacation with the love of your life, in a beach side cottage not far from a little town? Even better! However there could also be one tiny little problem with getting to share a bed with the love of your life for three months, If the prideful blond hair hot head failed to mention that he's a life long bed wetter. This was the sad fact facing Shoto as he woke up for the fifth morning in a row soaked by his boyfriends urine. The more powerful (in terms of raw power as well as muscles) teen scowled at Katsuki as the blond was still blissfully unaware of what he had done, snoring softly and sucking on his thumb. Grabbing his pillow Shoto was tempted, sorely tempted to whack the blond in the face with it, but instead held his breath and counted back from 10 before replacing it. "Wake up doofus. you soaked the bed. again." Shoto said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. Katsuki snorted and slowly opened his eyes. "hmm what? Nggh.." and turned over, tugging his pillow over his head. "Five more minutes mommy." he said in a sleepy voice. Shoto smirked at that, but reached over and grabbed the pillow. "I'm not your mommy, and you need to get up. We're taking care of this today bed wetter." he said, though he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. Katsuki grumble and then opened his eyes, sitting up in bed and yawning, then froze. "I..I Uh.." he stammered, quickly realizing that he was in the pee soaked bed. "You wet the bed. I know. come up, Outta bed, I need to get the mattress out to dry. Again." Shoto said. "M-Maybe it wasn't me! you ever think maybe YOUR the one pissing the bed like a fucking toddler?" Katsuki huffed, blushing but scooting out of the bed all the same. "Really? I'm not even gonna dignify that with a answer. go get in the shower." Shoto said, rolling his eyes. "..Yeah ok." Katsuki said and scurried off. Shoto sighed and got out of bed, the poor mattress had been new but already was doomed to be pee stained for the rest of it's life. Stripping the blankets and sheets off of the soaked bed, he walked to the washing machine by the bathroom, glad to hear Katsuki was showering and stuffed the soiled bedding as well as his own soaked shorts in the machine, then noticed that Katsuki had 'thoughtfully' left his pissy PJ bottoms out for him. '..At least he's not trying to hide them till they stink the place up.' Shoto thought and added them to the wash and started up the load, before moving in to join his boyfriend in the shower.

After a nice hot shower, with some nice hot love making, Both boys were dressed and clean, and sitting down to enjoy a breakfast. Shoto was having toast and egg, while Katsuki was finishing off his box of Cap'n Crunch. "we're gonna need to go into town today." Katsuki said between mouthful's, milk dribbling down his chin but at least he was leaning over the bowl so his light green muscle shirt was getting milk stained. Shoto meanwhile was in a loose white t-shirt and both boys were rocking tan shorts and black sandals. "I was going into town anyways. and you're coming with me." Shoto said, carefully finishing ff the last of his food. "oh, what we getting? we're good for food otherwise..heh." Katsuki got a impish look on his face. "Unless you wanted ta check out that sex shop i pointed out last time you horn do-" "Oh for the love of..No. we're getting you bed time diapers." Shoto cut Katsuki off. the blond choked on his last spoon full of cereal and when he could speak glared at Shoto. "No.Fucking.Way!" he growled. "This isn't up for debate. You can either come with me willing, and have a say on what brand of diapers I get you, or you can go over my lap and get a spanking and be put on time out till I get back." Shoto said, and finished the last of his coffee, silently daring Katsuki to try and call his bluff. The fact of the matter was, Shoto had learned quickly that the only way to calm the brat down when he got going, was a good old fashion trip over a knee. (well actually, it had been Katsuki's mother who had let him in on it) "..Your a butt you know that? a total, farty BUTT!" was all the blond said. "mmmhmm. Do the dishes up while I put the mattress out on the railing to dry." Shoto said and got up and started to leave the room. "and flip me off again and I'ma wash your mouth out. " he added, not even turning around. "...How does he fucking do that?" Katsuki muttered, quickly lowering his hand, and getting the dishes gathered up from the table.

with each boys chore down, they headed into town, walking since it was just a five minute walk. or at least it normally was. Katsuki had decided to stage a silent protest of sorts by going as slow as he could, and it took them a full fifteen minutes to get to the all-mart. "Keep pressing your luck and I'll get a stroller for the walk back." Shoto warned the brat. "You don't have the BALLS to tr-" Katsuki started, and quickly faltered, looking down at the ground. "Y-Yeah ok." Shoto wished that he hadn't of made the threat as Katsuki was even more sulky now. Hoping maybe the bed wetter's attuide would improve with a little bit of a delay in getting his bed wetting pants, Shoto steered the cart to the grocery side of the store first. "...I wanna get more then just Cap'n Crunch." Katsuki spoke up as they came up to the cereal aisle. "Oh? "I want candy. LOTS of it." Shoto smirked, it was more or less sounding like the bed wetter had offered up a price of sorts if he was gonna have to get the bed wetting pants. "I think we can swing that. though you're not eating it all at once. last thing I want is you bouncing off the walls." "Oh come on! I'm not THAT bad!" "Remember what happened on Easter? the foot prints on your mother's ceiling?" Shoto asked. "W-well that was uh..you know..I got a big bag of those cream eggs..and..i didn't want them to melt..and Mom didn't have any room in the fridge!" Katsuki huffed, blushing. "That's not how I remember it..but fine. we'll go with your version of events. just not a lot at once, OK?" Shoto offered, smirking. "Yeah fine. Whatever!" Katsuki sulked. "Get the Cap'n crunch, I'll get the candy."   and with that he took off and Shoto just knew the brat would be coming back with a armful of sweets. "he's lucky he's amazing in the sack." he muttered, and wheeled toward the Cap'n Crunch.

Coming around the corner after getting the brat his cereal, and picking up a ag of coffee for himself, Shoto just smirked seeing Katsuki coming back towards him, arm's fulled with big bags of mini chocolate bars, cream eggs and the like. 'And in accordance with the prophecy..' he thought but kept his mouth shut. "Did you leave anything on the shelf for others?" Shoto teased. "heh, yeah, but not for lack of trying." Katsuki said then noticed the coffee in the cart. "Ick, why do you drink that stuff when we have chocolate syrup and milk at home?" "because a certain sweet tooth glares at me when i go to use any." Shoto teased. "heh. well you got me there. Alright, let's go and pay for this and get back home." Katsuki said quickly, starting to head for the check outs and reaching back to tug on the cart. "Nice try. we still have something else to pickup." Shoto said. "Come on, give me ONE more chance!" Katsuki whined. "If I thought that would really make a difference I would. now come on." Shoto said and started to head towards the pharmacy end of the store. "..This is bullshit! get them if you want, but I'll be waiting outside!" Katsuki growled and started to stomp his way out of the store, drawing attention from other customers. Katsuki Bakugo, you get your butt back here right this instant or I'm putting all of your candy back!" Shoto threatened. "I'm NOT going and getting stupid diapers with you! Diapers are for babies and I DON'T FUCKING NEED THEM!" Katsuki yelled, apparently unaware of all the people looking at them as he stomped a foot but was turning and facing Shoto. At least he was unaware till a teenaged girl started to snicker. "YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY BITCH?!" Katsuki growled, spinning around to face her, and Shoto moved quick. Grabbing Katsuki by the ear he gave the boy a firm swat across the butt. "little man, that is eno-" He started, talking over the yowl from Katsuki, but even then he was cut off as a loud thunder poot escaped from the blonds backside. "..Katsuki when was the last time you-" Shoto started to asked. Katsuki's bowels were a fickle thing, and the boy could go for days without a movement, but when it was ready to come out, he had little to NO warning time. "i..I.." Katsuki whined, and then with a crackling poot the back of his shorts started to darken and blossom out. "N-Nooooo!" Katsuki whimpered and whined, but was helpless to do anything as days worth of heavy food destroyed his briefs and weren't doing the shorts any favor either. the crowd was watching with mixed reactions, though most was amusement, at least until the smell hit them. and a few were just shocked at the mass growing in the back of the boys pants. Shoto should of felt bad for him, but given he'd been acting like a total brat and he was positive had been about to use his quirk on that girl, he was all out of mercy. "great, Just great. it's not enough that your wetting the bed every night, now your pooping your pants too?" Shoto asked, hands on his hips. "I..But..I.." Katsuki whined. "that's it mister man, we're going and getting diapers alright, and NOT just for night time! and I'm putting that candy back, clearly junk food is the last thing you need." Picking Katsuki up and carrying the mortified blond over to the cart, Shoto was sure that the blond knew what coming from the little bit of a fight he was able to put up. It didn't do him any good though as Shoto sat him down with a loud squish in the baby seat of the cart. "MAYBE if you watch your mouth and behave, I MIGHT let you keep the cream eggs. but your on thin ice mister." Shoto said and shook a finger at Katsuki who whimper and started to bawl, even as the crowd started to clap and cheer in approval. "one last thing, Say sorry to everyone." Shoto said, and stepped aside,. Katsuki sobbed and hiccuped, and though teary eyes looked at the crowd. "I.I'm sowwy." he lisped babyishly. The crowd loved it.

After that Shoto wheeled the cart to the pharmacy area and picked up not one, not two, but three of the extra thick overnight diapers that the store carried, as well as getting some baby bottles and a package of pacifiers. Katsuki started to wail loudly at that point so Shoto, after getting permission from a employee, opened the pack of paci and popped one in the smelly teens mouth. part of the crowd had followed them, since well they didn't really get much excitement and this beat the re runs that were playing on TV at the moment anyways. As Katsuki suckled on it and whined, a chuckle spread though the crowd. Shoto also got permission to open one of the packs of diapers and was allowed to use the usually employee's only bathroom to get the little stinker changed. the crowd helped up somewhat, offering to take back the candy as Katsuki got changed and Shoto just reminded them to leave a bag of the cream eggs for Katsuki, he had been behaved so far since going poopie. Getting Katsuki in the bathroom, Shoto shook his head. "I hope you understand you brought this ALL on yourself. if you hadn't of dragged your feet, or had all your little fits we'd of been home by now." he said, tugging the stinkers shorts off and tossing them in a trash bin. Katsuki wisely kept his paci in, and nodded, but reached for his short futilely as they went though the air into the trash can. "no no, those shorts are ruined buddy. and I'm NOT buying you a new pair. you'll be waddling home in diapers." Shoto said, smirking and Katsuki laid on his back on the cold floor, fists going to his eyes and rubbing them as he suckled and whimpered big time. Katsuki's lucky Ultra-man briefs were all but ruined and Katsuki paused in his crying to look down, then up at Shoto and shake his head no. "Buddy, their ruined.I have to toss them." Shoto said. Katsuki shook his head no again and brought his hands together, pleading. "-sigh- alright..alright..you can keep them.. but I'm not carrying them." Shoto said, and then smirked as he took out a diaper. "Butt up." Katsuki got a confused look on his face and pointed at his poopie undies. "Yeah I know. they're still poopie. you wanna keep'em, you can wear them under your diaper, and YOU can wash them in the sink wen we get home." Shoto said. Katsuki wrinkled his nose and shook his head no, going to hook his thumb in the waistband. "No no no, You made your case, and won. enjoy the fruit of success." Shoto said and gently but firmly moved the brat's hands away. "Now butt up." Katsuki started whimpering again even as he lifted his butt up and plopped back down with a squish on the soft diaper, and whined as Shoto started to sprinkle him with baby powder , then just took the top off of the container and dumped half of it in. "Don't wanna get attacked by a hoard of fly's on the way home." Shoto explained. Taping the diaper up, Shoto helped Katsuki get to his feet and laughed at how cute and ridiculous the now big baby look, his legs bowed out and he was clearly having trouble walking, doing a weird baby learning to walk waddle. As they started to head for the door, Shoto noticed that there was a black marker on a clip board on the door, for checking off a list of things to be cleaned and smirked. "Hold it a second stinker." he said, grabbing the marker and then getting behind Katsuki, kneeling down and writing. 'Warning! Poopie diaper! (sorry about the smell)' Putting the cap back on the marker and replacing it, Shoto lead the big baby out.

Their groceries, the ones they were keeping, had been taken up to a checkout as for obvious reasons the cart had to be cleaned, and the crowd chuckled and laughed, with some people even snapping pictures as Katsuki was lead, Holding daddies hand, to the check out. everything was scanned in fact save for the bag of cream eggs and the clerk gave Shoto a question look, smirking at the same time as Katsuki wiped his arm over his eyes and looked at Shoto hopefully. "oh..I suppose. I'm just a big softie." Shoto said and leaned down, kissing the big babies head. Paying for the groceries and heading out the door with Shoto carrying the heavier stuff and Katsuki the light stuff, and the big babies hand in daddies, Shoto realized that his summer vacation was going to be even better then he could of dreamed, if not a little more smelly.

The end

[queerbutstillhere]

since you said prompts were open,I know Im cheesy and its a cliche but timkon "oh no we got mistaken for a couple and there's only one bed" or just them being dumb and confessing i love getting together fics

(I take your prompt, and raise you both + Jason being Jason)

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Okay, I'll get us some takeout and then come back and help you bandage yourself."

"Sounds good."

Tim watched Conner Kent turn around and walk right back out the door of the apartment they had gotten off of Jason. After they had, unsurprisingly, done some dumbshit, they needed a place to lay low, and bandage Tim up. Not exactly hiding from Bruce, but they didn't want to go back to the manor anyway. So Tim had called his big brother up, and Jason had grumbled about a million complaints and then gave them an address and a pin code. The apartment clearly hadn't been used in months, but it would serve their purposes.

Tim carefully stripped from his Red Robin gear, pulling off the armor pieces and wincing in pain the whole time. He routed around the fully stocked bathroom and found towels and soaps, and then got into the shower, nearly screaming as cold water dumped onto his injured body. He adjusted it to be about luke warm so he wouldn't freeze to death or scald his sensitive, damaged skin. Once he had carefully scrubbed his hair and body, he got out, drying off, pulling his pants back on as he had no other options at the moment. He left the rest of the armor on the floor and grabbed the first aid kit.

He opened the bathroom door and could smell Chinese instantly, which meant Kon was back.

"Kon, where you at?"

"Tim. Come here."

Tim followed the voice into the bedroom, or what he assumed was the bedroom, he hadn't gone in there yet. Conner was standing just past the doorway, arms crossed.

"What?"

"Next time you call Jason, maybe make it clear that we do actually need two beds."

Tim sighed, staring at the queen sized bed.

"I'll take the couch-"

"Like hell you will, mister let me get thrown out a window into a dumpster. Shut your dumb mouth and go sit down so I can bandage you up."

Tim glared up at his best friend but spun sharply in his heel, marching over to the sofa and plopping down onto it. His body screamed in agony. Conner came over and crouched in front of him, slowly and gently beginning to bandage him up, warm large hands careful every time they touched him. Tim watched as Conner worked intently, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Oh the things he'd like that tongue to do-

Wait. Don't think about that, not now, he'll be able to tell-

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tim said, keeping his tone even.

"Okay..."

Curse his superhearing.

After Conner bandaged him up, they got their Chinese and sat on the sofa, watching the really crappy old TV that had a line of static through the middle of it.

"Did Jason say why he has this safehouse?"

"Just said it was a backup."

"Still don't know where he actually lives?"

"Oh, I do, there's just a unspoken code not to go there."

Conner chuckled, looking over with a mouth full of fried rice and General TSO.

"Well, I'm gonna take a shower," Conner said, standing and stretching.

Tim watched the lines of his muscles through his tight suit. Then he ripped his eyes back to the tv.

"Okay."

If Conner thought he was acting weird(he did), he didn't say anything, just walked away. A few minutes later, Tim heard the water running. He stood, collecting the trash and throwing it away. Then he took his stiff body into the bedroom, finding sheets and blankets for the bed and slowly making it up. Then he found pillows in the closet and threw those on too.

"Hey, Kon!"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"I found some clothes, you wanna see if any of them fit you?"

"Hell yeah."

Tim was routing around in a drawer when he sensed Conner behind him, he didn't turn around, just grabbed some sweats and a shirt. And then he turned around and his eyes met Kon's bare chest.

"Thanks, Tim."

The clothes were snatched from him and Conner stepped back, easily pulling on the sweatpants, which, if anything, were a little long. The shirt was pretty snug, so he immediately ditched it. Tim just turned back around, finding another, smaller pair of sweatpants, and a smaller shirt that knew would still be too big on him. He stiffly pulled off his uniform pants, back to Conner, despite the fact that he could feel the Kryptonian's eyes on him. They hung off his hips, and he had to tie the drawstring tightly just to prevent them from falling off. The shirt hung off his shoulder and just had to much extra material, but he'd accept it, since he got too cold sleeping without a shirt.

"You gonna actually go to sleep?" Kon asked, watching him from the doorway with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah. I don't have anything I can work on to keep me up. So I guess I'll try."

Conner nodded.

"Okay. Good night, Tim."

"Conner we both know you're not fitting on the sofa, get back here."

The man stopped just out the doorway, then turned, eyebrows raised.

"Tim?"

"Come on, you big lump, I won't kill you if we share the bed. We used to do it when we were younger."

"Yeah, keyword, younger. Which means when I was smaller."

Tim ignored him, walking over and getting in bed, pulling the surprisingly soft sheets up to his chest.

"Conner."

There was a small sigh, and then Kon flicked off the light before walking over, carefully getting in next to him, laying on his side.

"Night."

"Night."

Sleep did not come for Timothy Drake for quite a while, he was too busy thinking about how Conner. So what if he had feelings for his best friend? It was pretty normal and wasn't gonna kill him or anything. Even if it felt like it was tearing out his heart every time he saw Conner flirting with someone else.

When he did wake up, there were strong arms wrapped around him. He didn't question it at first, just pressed back into the warm firm body behind him, letting his eyes stay closed. He had even started drifting to sleep when he realized something. His eyes popped back open and he looked down at the arms, one hand was shoved up under his shirt, finger splayed against his ribs. The other was under his head, and he was mostly using it as a pillow, rather then the actual pillow. Slowly, he shifted his head, looking behind him. Sure enough, Conner was who was holding him, breath lightly stirring Tim's hair as he slept.

Tim took a few deep breaths. This was fine. It was fine. This happened in their sleep, so it's not like it was a conscious decision. It was fine. After nearly ten minutes, he felt Conner start stirring, and then with a sigh, he pushed forwards, nose going into Tim's hair at the same time that he pulled Tim tight against his chest. Tim was literally unable to move, he groaned in pain as Conner pressed in on his injured body, and immediately the pressure stopped, Conner going stiff.

"Tim?" He asked softly, sounding concerned.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just don't squeeze me like a teddy bear, Kent."

"Sorry!"

Conner didn't move his hands. Tim sighed lightly, pulling a hand up to rub his eyes.

"You were having a nightmare, by the way, and when I held you, you calmed down, and then I guess I just fell asleep. . ."

Tim nodded, showing he understood. He could tell Conner was concerned.

"Okay. We should get dressed and go see what havoc Bats has waiting for us," Tim mumbled.

"We just woke up, Tim. I need like a solid ten minutes just to fully wake up."

"Baby."

"Workaholic."

Tim sighed, just letting his eyes close and his head stay on Conner's arm. He could almost hear his smile. He wished he could mask how hard his heart was beating. After five minutes, he pulled away from Conner and stretch, sitting up after. He lifted the shirt, looking down at his bruised torso to see if his bandages stayed in place. Then he froze as he felt fingers on his spine. They gently ran up, all the way to his neck, then back down to his hips, tugging the material of the shirt slightly as they went.

"Conner?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't really know."

Tim turned to look at Conner, who was now laying on his back, his arm extended to Tim. The super smiled lazily.

"Hey."

"Hi. Wait-"

Conner sat up, grabbing Tim's face lightly, and without warning, pressed their lips together. Tim squeaked in surprise, a hand coming up to Conners wrist, but he didn't pull away. He didn't want to. He just leaned forwards into Conner, letting him take the lead and softly kiss him. After a minute, Conner pulled away, smirking lightly.

"I knew it."

"What?"

"I may not be a Bat, but I can tell when someone is pining, Tim."

Tim huffed, pushing at his chest.

"Then you shoulda done something about it earlier," he grumbled, throwing off the blankets and getting out of bed.

"Tim!"

Conner followed him, snagging his hand and gently pulling him around.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Are you annoyed?"

"No."

"Tim."

He sighed, crossing his arms. "I just don't want this to be like all the other people I know you've dated. This isn't just a fling, Conner, okay? It can't be."

"Okay. Not a fling, I promise."

Tim narrowed his eyes. Conner sighed, putting his hands on Tim's shoulders.

"Tim I've wanted to date you since before I knew I even liked guys, okay?"

"Oh."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Conner smiled, ducking his head down to kiss Tim again, just once this time, lightly.

"That's even better then I thought it'd be," he hummed out.

Tim gave a small laugh and hit his chest.

"Dumbass!"

[jae-bummer]

An Earthworm’s Purpose

Request: Hi Kay!! I’ve been binge reading your fics and I’m in love with your writing 😫 Can I request a scenario/imagine of Monsta X’s Wonho? Super fluffy, Wonho is on tour and reader is missing him (they’re dating), Wonho is on his way home to reader & reader has no idea. Reader goes to bed and is woken up by Wonho crawling into bed. Also sorry if I dictated that wayyyy too much but I thought about it and thought you could bring it to life ☺️     

Pairing: Monsta X Wonho x Reader

Genre: Fluff

**Disclaimer: GIF is not mine! if you know who it belongs to, please let a girl know so i can give credit!!)

.

“It says poor connection,” you grumbled, flopping over in your bed. Your boyfriend’s image had become obscured by the blurry iPhone screen.

“Really? Everything is coming through on my side!” Wonho’s chipper voice called from the abyss. You could tell he was smiling, even without seeing his face.

“Oh good, so you can still see all of my unattractive features from this angle,” you laughed, making sure to emphasize your multiplied chins.

Wonho let out an amused giggle, one he normally did before nuzzling his face into you. “Even when you try to look like an earthworm, you are still a butterfly.”

“And what makes the butterfly superior to the earthworm?” you gasped in mock offense. “Earthworms have purpose, and what is the purpose of the butterfly?”

“To make me smile,” he chuckled. “But that’s my personal answer, I’m sure someone much smarter than me has a better answer.”

“According to Google, butterflies exist to be eaten by other things,” you muttered, squinting at your screen.

“No wonder you’re so tasty,” Wonho laughed.

“You’re so greasy,” you groaned, flipping back to your FaceTime call. Wonho’s face was still hidden by a poor connection.

“I was wondering why your screen paused,” he sighed. “I should have known you would be searching something.”

“You know me,” you grinned. “I always want the right answer.”

“Oh? So is there a right answer to every question then?” he teased.

“Absolutely,” you nodded. “Speaking of, I have a question.”

“Of course you do,” he laughed, his face finally popping on your phone screen.

“Ah, there you are!” you smiled easily.

“While I would love to distract you now that you can actually see me,” Wonho cooed. “The anticipation is killing me. What’s the question?”

“Fine,” you hummed. “When are you coming home?”

Wonho’s beaming face slowly sank into a solemn expression. He heaved a deep sigh before beginning to bite his lip. “Y/N.”

“Remember, there is a wrong answer,” you prodded, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted. Judging by his expression, you knew whatever he was about to say was already tearing him up inside.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t answer at all,” he said quietly, his eyes looking past the camera and into his hotel room.

“Not giving an answer is just as bad as giving the wrong one,” you chided. “Now don’t look so serious!”

“How can I not be!” he groaned. “When I know what I have to say will only bring you heartache.”

“It’s all about presentation,” you grinned. If he were beside you, you would have been poking his pecks. That would have made him laugh.

“Not soon enough,” he sighed, finally allowing some sort of answer to be heard.

“Which is?” you continued.

“Weeks?” he winced. “Over a month?”

“Over a month,” you croaked. “Not the right answer.”

“But it was the truth,” he nodded. “You can’t fault me for choosing not to lie to you. Kihyun’s partner has been convinced he would be coming home for at least two weeks now.”

“I appreciate the truth,” you sighed. “It still doesn’t mean that I want to hear it though.”

“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” he said with another small wince.

“Flattery is not a bandage, sir,” you grumbled.

“I thought you would want me to say something you like to hear,” he murmured.

“What I would like to hear is that you’re coming home,” you muttered.

Wonho sighed again as he stared with pitiful eyes into the camera. He reminded you of a battered puppy on one of those animal shelter commercials.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumbled.

“I’m just looking at you,” he said quietly, his pout somehow growing deeper.

“The hell you are!” you gasped. “Now I just feel guilty.”

“It’s getting late,” Wonho managed. He looked away from the screen before scrubbing a hand roughly through his hair.

Now you felt bad. You knew what it looked like when Wonho began to shut down, and you loathed yourself whenever you were the one responsible for it.

“Jagi,” you said with a slight whine.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” he continued, chewing on his lip. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said quietly, remorse coating your every thought.

Without another word, Wonho disconnected the call.

You knew you were being selfish and immature, but when Wonho traveled, the distance really seemed to become endless. Letting out a breathy groan, you flopped onto your stomach and stuffed your face into the thick blanket on your bed.

Why did things have to be so hard?

.

Wonho grimaced as he hung up the phone.

“Tell me,” Minhyuk said softly, filing his nails. “How does it feel to be a big, fat, LIAR.”

“Well, I think you took it a bit far with the “fat” part,” Wonho pouted. “But just so you know, it felt terrible.”

“Good because it should,” Minhyuk nodded. “Y/N deserved the actual truth.”

“But if I said the actual truth, then it would ruin the surprise!” Wonho gasped.

“Oh, you only call it a surprise because Kihyun threatened to skewer and barbecue you if you told Y/N the truth and it got down the grapevine to whoever he’s dating,” Minhyuk sighed. “Personally I thought you would be a waste to skewer and barbecue, too much muscle.”

“But you just called me fat,” Wonho muttered.

“Not when it comes to cannibalism,” Minhyuk laughed. “Only lying.”

“Why do you make things so weird?” Wonho winced, shaking his head as he plopped beside his friend.

“I’m so unappreciated,” Minhyuk whined.

Wonho rolled his eyes before putting an arm around the younger man. “You’ll be just fine...

...and so will Y/N when I end up coming home early.”

.

.

You scrunched your lips, attempting to blow at the rogue strand of hair that had fallen over your forehead. Furrowing your brows, you leaned against your front door as you attempted the action while simultaneously sliding off your shoes. It was late, and you weren’t surprised to see the clock close to the AM hours as you struggled over your threshold. With Wonho out of town and barely responding to your texts, you had thrown yourself into your work. It felt nice to think about things that didn’t concern him when he was all that you craved.

You knew you had been wrong in your last call. You knew you weren’t being fair to him and were well aware of his career before the two of you ever began dating. It wasn’t like his schedule was a surprise to you, but it was just draining sometimes. It was easy to recognize that his work was difficult, but it was hard to realize that the toll wasn’t just on him, it was on everyone who cared about him as well.

Tugging your phone from your pocket, you rolled your eyes as you saw a lack of notifications lighting up the lock screen. If he wanted to be aloof and punish you, you probably deserved it.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Grumbling to yourself, you walked down the hallway, stripping your clothes as you went. You were too tired to eat anything and you didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Crawling into your bed, you barely managed to turn off the light before your head hit the pillow and you fell into a deep sleep.

.

Small snores echoed through your bedroom as Wonho’s feet gently padded across the hardwood. It was impossible for him to keep the smile from his face as he took in the curves of your sleeping body, desperately holding back the urge to let his fingers to roam the skin he had missed.

Walking as quietly as his large frame would allow, he winced with every small floor board groan or miscellaneous apartment noise. He wanted to get in bed before you realized that he had been lying to you for the past week. Partially because he was deathly afraid of Kihyun, but mostly because he couldn’t wait to see your surprised expression.

Leaning into the mattress, he held his breath as your snoring faltered. He tried not to chuckle. You only snored when you were dead tired, so it would most likely take a lot to wake you. Crawling with snail like speed, Wonho finally eased his way toward the mattress. His biceps pulsed with the effort it took to lay his body easily onto the sheets, only releasing a breath when he was flat on the pillow top.

.

.

You felt like someone was watching you. Unsure if it was part of a weird dream or reality, you didn’t want to move. You couldn’t confirm if it was true or not. There was no Wonho here to protect you from any potential peeping toms or burglars. Surely if you remained asleep, they wouldn’t attack you. Who attacks a sleeping person?

Slowly peeling one eye open, you swept your vision across the room, cataloging every shadow. You knew you should have never bought that dumb ficus. It made such a good spot for potential creeps to hide behind.

Letting your eye adjust to the darkness, you finally opened the other, surveying your surroundings in full.

It was then that you noticed there was a sizeable weight added to your mattress and something was placed in bed beside you.

No, not something.

Someone.

You let out a small shriek as you took your pillow in your arm, poised to defend yourself as you yanked back the comforter with your opposite hand.

“Good to see you too,” a sleepy Wonho smirked.

“Won-Won-” you stuttered, looking at your boyfriend in disbelief. Shock and relief flooded your system, but any emotion was quickly replaced by anger.

“SHIN,” you screeched, slamming him in the torso with your pillow. “HO.” Another slam. “SEOK.”

“Hey, hey!” he gasped through laughter. “Don’t kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would smother you!” you whisper shouted. “I just want to make you hurt like you’ve made me hurt the past few days, you big...big meanie!”

Wonho laughed again as you pulled the pillow from your view and truly got a good look at his face, albeit in the darkness. There he was, your smiling, incredible, handsome boyfriend.

“I SHOULD kill you,” you began quietly, your anger now turning into happiness. You felt the tears begin welling up on your lashes. “But...but I would miss you too much.”

You let out a wail as you flopped toward him, allowing him to wrap you in his muscular arms. Nuzzling your face into his chest, you took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe he was here.

“Is this a dream?” you wept. You focused on Wonho’s soft chuckle as he peppered your forehead with dozens of small kisses.

“Not a dream,” he confirmed. “But a pretty good surprise if I do say so myself.”

“You’re so mean!” you gasped, allowing him to kiss your face despite your hurt feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Isn’t this much more fun than you knowing I was going to show up?” he laughed.

“Fun isn’t the word,” you muttered. “I hope you got the response you wanted.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on making you cry,” he hummed. “But I am glad that the tears are happy ones...they are happy, right?”

“Yes, you turd,” you laughed. “They’re the happiest tears I’ve ever cried.”

“Good,” he sighed, pulling you closer to him. “Those should be the only type of tears you cry.”

Tilting your head up, you grumbled in agreement before deciding to press a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “You’re home,” you confirmed more to yourself than to him.

He laughed before scrunching his head backward and pressing a kiss to your nose. “I am.”

“You know,” you giggled. “You kind of look like an earthworm from this angle.”

Wonho let out a loud shout of a laugh. “You know, someone once told me earthworms were superior because they have purpose.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Like creating manure.”

“A purpose,” he hummed, completely ignoring your snide comment as he pressed his face against your hair, deep in thought. “And I think my purpose is to love you.”

[bcbdrums]

Moments

So this came after three days of writing thousands of words that ended with writer's block, and I needed to write something else.  And this little thing popped into my head.

It can be read as a sequel to "Empty Embrace" but it also stands alone.  Enjoy!

---------

The lair was too cold, and the bed was too hot. Shego rolled over for the umpteenth time that night and squished her pillow under her head. That was even more uncomfortable, so she rolled to her other side again. The sheets twisted at her feet, and with a groan she sat up and threw back the blankets. She stripped off her pajamas, shivering in the chill, and then straightened the sheets. She fluffed her pillow and lay down again, pinching her eyes shut and willing herself to sleep.

The only problem was, each time her eyes closed she saw the past twenty-four hours on a high-definition replay. From Drakken's abduction by the Lorwardians to their being approached by the authorities who wanted his plant mutagen, she remembered every moment in vivid detail and she couldn't turn the memories off.

She pulled the blankets higher, covering her nose as she shivered. She opened her eyes and stared at the darkness of her room back in the Caribbean lair. She hadn't slept at all since Drakken's abduction. There had been the twelve hours on a plane to the mainland, the attempt to steal a rocket, teaming up with Stoppable, actually finding Drakken, and then—she shuddered—saving the world.

When they finally agreed the world had had enough saving—when the National Guard had stopped them—they spent another hour arguing with the authorities about Drakken's rights to his own invention and about their right to their freedom. The world had a common enemy now, why bother small-town villains? Especially when the world was only free because of them.

Drakken had gloated all the way back to the lair about his newfound status in the eyes of the world and how everyone owed him their allegiance due to his heroics. He was sure he'd be ruling the world in no time. Shego had only bantered with him for a few minutes, exhaustion winning over the desire to belittle him even when those yellow petals popped out around his head. And when they had returned by accident to their recently destroyed but favorite lair, she realized she was too tired to care.

Three hours of attempting to sleep later, she was about ready to give up. Maybe some mindless TV would help...

She threw the hot blankets back again, and shivering she put her pajamas back on. After donning her robe and slippers she tiptoed out to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she poured the glass she realized she was famished, and she tried to remember when she last ate. She frowned when she couldn't, and opened the fridge to make a snack. The dim fluorescent lighting showed only orange juice and nearly-empty condiment jars. She moved next to the cupboards and found them bare as well.

She furrowed her brow. Even when lairs were destroyed, Drakken tended to leave the electricity on just in case of situations like the one they found themselves in. So what had happened to the food?

She downed two glasses of water and then poured a third before heading back to her room. She'd have to ask Drakken about the food in the morning. At least he was getting sleep...

As she passed his door in the hall she had a flash of the abduction again: the beam pulling him up and away from her, the terrified look on his face, and then the ship vanishing up into the stars. The fear she'd felt in the following hours—that she'd find him dead—clenched irrationally around her heart again, and impulsively she stepped back to his door and put in the code to enter.

She expected to quietly peek in on him sleeping, the room bathed in its ominous yellowish glow from the moat. But that's not what she saw.

Drakken jumped when the door slid open, as if he'd just been caught attempting to swipe her DNA. He was sitting cross-legged atop the bed in his pajamas and slippers, the ceiling-mounted TV playing an old 'Pals' re-run, and the bed was absolutely covered in food. There was a full bagged loaf of white bread, open jars of peanut butter and jam with knives sticking out, a giant bowl of popcorn from which several kernels had escaped, a bunch of bananas with one empty peel dropped on the floor, and a half-empty gallon of milk sitting up atop his tricked-out headboard. There was also a mug steaming with something. Probably chocolate milk.

"Oh," Drakken said, his voice muffled. Shego saw him swallow and noted the sandwich in his hand. "Shego. Wh-what—"

He was interrupted by a coughing fit, and he reached up on the headboard behind him for his mug.

Shego crossed her arms and frowned. "This explains why there's no food in the kitchen. You going to eat everything in the lair tonight?"

Drakken downed the contents of his mug and then set it back on the headboard.

"I happen to be hungry, Shego. There was no food in captivity on the alien warship."

Shego felt a pain in her stomach. Probably from hunger, not worry. He was fine.

She watched as he dropped some formerly-unnoticed chocolate bars in the mug and then poured milk over it. Then he produced a ray gun from under his pillow, adjusted the settings to low, and used it to heat the cup.

"Well..." she said as he stirred the beverage, "I'm hungry too. You need to put this back."

He glared at her. "I'm not done yet."

She stepped into the room and picked her way across the moat until she was next to the bed. She cringed at the sight of the mess up-close.

"Just pick something so I can eat too. I haven't eaten since... Since..." She tried to remember again the last time she ate. They'd never had a chance to eat at the lair in the Pacific. So it must have been back at the Himalayan lair... "Rrgh, just give me something!"

She grabbed the bananas and turned to leave, but found herself thrown suddenly off-balance by a force pulling her from behind. She stumbled back against the bed and fell on it hard, the peanut butter and jam jars bouncing up and rolling off onto the floor.

"Hey!" she said, turning around with her hands flaring. He let go of the bananas with a gasp, wringing his hands where her glow had burned him. The bananas charred black in her grip with a sickly sweet smell, and she tossed them in the moat where they sank with a hiss of rising steam.

"What did you do that for!?" he whined, picking up pieces of popcorn that had bounced out of the bowl when she fell.

"You grabbed them!" she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Nghh... I went out for those..."

Shego's brow rose as a sudden pang of fear caused her heart rate to rise.

"Did the peanut butter survive?" he asked, leaning over the side of the bed and casting his eyes around.

She stood up and picked up the two fallen jars and set them on the headboard behind him, where the lids already lay. She drank deeply of her water and set the glass down.

"When did you go out?" she asked slowly.

He settled back against the headboard and resumed stirring his hot chocolate.

"About an hour ago... Why?"

Shego blinked. Why indeed? She crossed her arms as she considered her strange reaction to his words. Half the time she never knew where he was, nor did he know where she was. They had never had that type of schedule, where they reported on each other's whereabouts.

But the sudden fear at not knowing where he was...

"Do you want a sandwich?"

She blinked out of her brown study and looked down at him proffering the bagged loaf of bread with an uncertain expression. She took it after a moment and turned it over slowly in her hands as she continued to think.

The aliens were gone. He could go out for groceries. She should be glad he went out for groceries...even if he did hog them all for himself. He wasn't going to be abducted again...

"I, ah...can't sleep," he said, getting her attention again. "Would you like to watch 'Pals' with me?"

She looked up at the TV playing the embarrassing sitcom, and then back to his anxious face. Was that why he'd gone grocery shopping in the middle of the night?

"Sure..." she sighed, setting the bread down and stepped back around the headboard. He scooted over and swept off the blankets, a tiny smile on his face. She rolled her eyes when he patted the space next to him and she grabbed the popcorn bowl, tossing a few pieces in her mouth as she leaned back on the headboard and stretched her legs out.

He turned up the TV volume with the remote and in two huge bites finished off his sandwich.

"Do you want some cocoa-moo?" he asked with a grin.

She fought the urge to say something about his immaturity and just nodded, tossing more popcorn in her mouth. The tiny morsels in her stomach let her know how hungry she really was and she set the bowl down between the two of them and reached for the bread loaf again.

Drakken produced a second mug from somewhere and dropped the chocolate bars inside before pouring the milk. She watched him use his ray gun to heat the beverage with care as she spread a thick layer of peanut butter on one slice of bread.

"There!" he said, presenting the mug to her as she finished putting her sandwich together. "It's perfect. Try it."

She raised a brow, but sipped cautiously from the warm mug. Her second brow joined her first. "This is really good."

He smiled and sat back again, grabbing some popcorn before he sipped from his own mug. "I'll make cookies tomorrow."

She chewed a bite of her sandwich and sat back with a sigh, turning her attention to the TV. Cookies? Why not... She deserved a break, after everything that had happened. So did he.

She glanced sideways at him. With the low collar of his pajamas, she could see the swollen, reddened slits in his skin where the flower petals kept emerging from. She craned her neck to look for the vine, but wherever it came from was hidden.

She thought again about the moment the mutagen had taken him, like a moment out of a cheesy cartoon. She had been afraid then, but of what she wasn't sure. Thinking back, he could have died then just as easily as he could have been killed by the aliens.

She curled her knees up to her chest with a sigh and took another sip of her hot chocolate. Whatever had gotten into her head that told her he was constantly in danger needed to stop. He was fine. Dumb luck had saved him again, and nothing could happen to him while she was right there in the room to protect him.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noting her posture.

"Yes," she said quickly, startled at having been caught in her worried thoughts again.

He looked contemplative. "You could...put your toes under my blanket," he suggested.

Her heart was racing. Why? He was fine.

She wiggled the red bedspread and sheet out from under her rear and then tucked her toes under, pulling them up to her shins.

"Can you turn the TV up?" she asked. Maybe the show would drown out her thoughts.

She watched the bars rise on the screen and she took another bite of her sandwich. She tried to catch on to the story, but she wasn't even sure who all the of the characters were. She'd never been able to get into sitcoms. They either over-complicated or over-simplified life. And the characters were all the same in the end.

She leaned her head back with a sigh as she finished her sandwich and dug into the popcorn. She'd ask him to change the channel, but she was concerned it would start an argument. She was pretty sure he liked that show. She knew enough about it to know it always had the type of sappy endings he was attracted to.

She glanced at him again and saw he was grinning happily at the TV. Yep, definitely his type of show...

He must have felt her eyes on him, because his expression suddenly became guarded. His eyes slowly slid to the side and then he started slightly when he realized she was watching him.

"...What?" he asked, shoving some popcorn in his mouth.

She took a drink of her cocoa-moo— Cocoa-moo? I've gotta get some sleep... —and thought quickly for something to say.

"Do those hurt?" she asked.

His eyes darted nervously from side to side. "What?"

She lazily brought her hand to his neck and ran two fingers lightly over one of the reddened slits. "Those."

He only shied away slightly from her touch. "Ah...they itch a little. So does the vine," he said, reaching down the back of his shirt to scratch.

She smirked tiredly. "Figures you'd be allergic to your own super-powers."

He glowered at her for a moment before hunching forward and pulling the edge of the blanket into his lap to fidget.

"What?"

He gave her another frown. "It's not funny."

Her smirk grew. "It kind of is."

"I didn't design it for this. I don't even know what it might do to me."

She looked at the real fear on his face and her heart started racing again. What if the mutation really wasn't compatible with his body? What if she woke up one day to find...it had killed him?

Almost as if in response, the flower-tipped vine started emerging from the back of his neck. She leaned away in disgust, and he gasped when he saw it creeping around his face.

"Can't you feel that?"

He swatted at the vine and it retreated out of sight.

"Not...really," he said. He took a sip from his mug and held it close to his chest, his eyes filling with worry.

Shego set her own mug on the headboard behind her and moved the popcorn bowl forward so she could scoot closer to him. She pulled him back with one hand on his shoulder until he turned to look at her.

"Okay, first thing tomorrow you get to work figuring out exactly how this happened. It can't do too much damage to you overnight, right?"

She had intended the words to be reassuring, but he looked even more worried than before.

"Have you ever seen plants grow?" he said bitterly.

Her heart beat even faster. "L-look, the aliens didn't get you and a stupid plant isn't going to get you either. Okay?"

He looked up at her in surprise, and she drew back at the sudden intensity in his eyes. She realized then that her voice had been shaking. Was she shaking? She was shaking.

She reached behind her quickly and grabbed the mug of cooling chocolate.

"How much sugar is in this stuff, Doc?" she said, staring down into the brown liquid.

"Just the usual..."

She set the mug down and leaned back again, reaching for more popcorn. "Probably shouldn't have that much sugar on an empty stomach."

He crossed his arms and leaned back with a frown. "Well, if you hadn't destroyed the bananas."

"Just watch TV," she said, stretching her legs out again and pulling the blankets up to her knees.

He fell silent, and she listened to the voices and laugh track from the TV for only a few minutes before her thoughts drifted back to the plant mutation.

Could it really kill him overnight? What if he was allergic? How could she stop an allergic reaction to something that had become part of him?

She glanced at him cautiously out of the corner of her eye. He was frowning again, and looking concerned. She sighed. The last thing they needed was for both of them to start freaking out. He needed to sleep so he could start working on a solution in the morning. And she would stay awake all night to make sure he lived to see the next morning.

She leaned across him and grabbed the remote, startling him into a jump, and turned the volume down.

"What—?"

"You done eating?"

He blinked. "Yes..."

"Then you need to get some sleep. Did you sleep at all on that alien ship?"

He blinked again. "No..."

"That's what I thought. So you've been awake for about...forty-eight hours?"

Her eyes widened as she double-checked the calculations in her head. His guilty nod confirmed that she was thinking straight. That meant she'd been awake that long too. The last time they'd slept was the Himalayas.

"At least..." he finally said.

"Yeah..." she sighed deeply. Suddenly she felt the exhaustion of every single one of those hours, and fought the urge to rub her eyes. "So, sleep."

He seemed to shrink in front of her. "I can't."

"Will it help if I stay here until you fall asleep?"

He looked slightly less afraid. "Maybe..."

"Then I'll stay," she said, fighting a yawn.

He blinked twice, seeming to consider it. "Okay."

He settled back against the headboard again, his eyes falling half-closed as he stared at the TV and let himself relax. She turned and leaned sideways against the board and watched him, noting the reddened slits on his neck again. He said they didn't hurt... So if the petals popped out, she would pluck them.

Now that they weren't talking, the dialogue coming from the TV suddenly seemed clearer. She glanced at it as she shifted to make herself more comfortable, pulling the blanket up over her folded legs. Whatever the plot was about, it was obviously fake. All the characters were smiling.

She yawned. How Drakken could enjoy something so lame...

His eyes fell closed and then jerked open. He glanced over at her and shifted uncomfortably.

"Sleep, Doc," she ordered quietly. "You'd be more comfortable if you laid down."

He shook his head. "No, this...this is fine."

She looked at him skeptically, but he turned back to the TV.

She watched the battle as his eyes fell closed and jerked open several times in succession. She yawned again and turned her head back toward the TV. Apparently this was going to take awhile...

---------

The first thing Shego was aware of was the sound of running water. Then, the feeling of being well-rested. She smiled and stretched herself out from head to toe...and then she froze. She was far too warm. And it took only another moment to figure out why.

She was pressed against another body, the person's arms wrapped tightly around her. The arms were familiar, and yet they weren't. She took note of her own arms wrapped around the person's back, and one of her legs between the person's and linked behind one of their heels.

Her heart began beating faster, but she kept her breathing even. As she cast her mind back to the night before it wasn't hard to guess the exact identity of the person holding her. That's why the arms where familiar—they had frequently embraced her without permission in the past. And the running water she heard was obviously the moat.

Part of her was panicking as her heart beat harder and every one of her nerve ends began tingling. But another part of her wanted to hold on tighter and go back to sleep.

Why?

Because if she let go now...it would never happen again. And she wanted it to.

She wanted it to...

She cautiously opened her eyes and tilted her head back. The first thing she saw was yellow, and her brow twisted in confusion. Then she realized she was looking at flower petals and she cautiously lifted one hand to push them aside.

Her head was tucked under Drakken's chin, and all she could really see was his stubble. But if she lifted her head up she could just see one of his closed eyes past his high cheekbone.

He sighed lightly, and she felt her heart beat even faster. She carefully lay her head back down and nestled her face back into his chest. When he woke up, he would freak out... Probably run away, splutter something nonsensical, and then accuse her of something ridiculous.

She closed her eyes. Yes, going back to sleep was definitely the better option...

---------

Drakken's eyes flew open. Something was wrong. He had only to take a breath before he knew what it was.

Someone—Shego—was pressed up against him in his bed and trapped by his iron grip. He let her go and leaned back with a gasp, preparing to shield himself from attack.

But attack didn't come. She was asleep.

His brow twisted in confusion as his breaths came in great heaves. He yanked the petals out of his neck and tossed them aside, staring at her. She looked...peaceful. Calm.

Very un-Shego-like.

She made a small sound of discomfort and he bit his lip as he felt one of her legs between his, pulling against his heel. He had to get out of there, fast.

He realized then that her arms were also around him, and he swallowed nervously as he gently started to pick one up and lift it off.

She made another sound and moved in close to him again. His heart was pounding. He didn't know how this had happened, but it wouldn't matter. As soon as she woke up, he was dead. He tried this time to pull his leg away.

The result was the same as before, with both her arms and her leg tightening their grip on him. What was he to do?

The petals popped out around his neck again, one of them smacking her in the face. Her eyes flew open.

He opened his mouth to start apologizing and choked on his own breath as her eyes lifted up and narrowed on his.

"I... I'm—"

"What time is it?" she asked.

He blinked. Didn't she realize where she was?

"Um..." he glanced past her at his bedside clock. "It's...2:14. PM."

His eyes widened. How long had he been asleep?

"I'm still tired," she said through a sigh, her arms circling tighter around him. He felt one of her hands reach up to his neck and her fingers begin to run through his ponytail.

"Um..." His voice was shaking. "Shego... Um...don't you think—"

"Doc," she interrupted impatiently, closing her eyes and tucking her head under his chin again. "Just go with it."

What was happening? Why wasn't she killing him? How did they get there?

"Close your eyes," she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

He blinked. He looked at the clock, at the TV, at their cocoa mugs... At her dark hair splayed back across the red blanket that was tucked up tight around them both. When...how had this happened?

"But..."

"Close your eyes. And put your arm down."

He realized his arm was still hovering above her, not daring to touch her while the other was trapped under her. He held his breath and slowly lowered his arm down to rest on her side.

"Wait..." she said. He felt her shift away and he instantly pulled back, waving his hands defensively.

"Shego, I swear I have no idea how—" He stopped, his brow rising quizzically.

She had leaned up on her side and was pulling her sage-colored robe off revealing her darker green cotton pajamas underneath.

"Too hot," she said in explanation, tossing the garment aside before flopping down and snuggling back into him. One of her arms slipped up his back and the other up his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders. His breath caught as her leg slipped between his again and her heel hooked behind his.

He looked down at her at the same time she looked up, his eyes wide and lower lip trembling.

"Dr. D.," she began, her voice soft. "You saved the world. For once...just relax and don't worry. Don't worry about anything. You deserve it."

Her fingers were lightly kneading his shoulders as she looked at him, her eyes entreating. He swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat and gently wrapped his arms around her. Her expression softened into an almost-smile and he sighed shakily, slowly weaving his fingers into her hair.

She closed her eyes, and he saw her smirk before she set her head under his chin again.

"Hmm," she hummed.

"Wh-what?" he asked, bringing his hands up to her shoulders and pulling her closer.

"Hero," she teased, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

He grimaced for a moment at the thought, but it was short-lived as he felt her pull herself closer to him. His heart was pounding, but...he remembered her words. Don't worry...

He closed his eyes and nestled into her hair with a contented smile.

"Back at you."

[ain-t-bovvered]

Epiphany 9

read first ACT 1

EDIT:  @waywardbaby​

Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters. But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably,  or at least that’s what they told you anyway.

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack

Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst.

You woke up startled, air deprived and bathed in cold sweat. 'Not again' you groaned internally, a pair of arms tightening around you.

“Y/N?...” Dean's sleepy, confused voice.

“…sorry I woke you…” you sat up at the edge of the bed, gathering your hair into a quick, messy bun to cool off. Dean’s hand rubbed your back, shifting closer.

“Talk to me.”

You turned to him, smiling bitterly. “Just a nightmare, I’m okay.”

“About?”

“I don’t know…”

“Y/N…”

“I really don’t, Dean. I can’t know. Cass made it so that I wouldn’t remember nightmares or dreams about that time. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and you kissed it softly, “Stop thinking that it’s your fault.”

Your eyes fell on the rest of him. Bed hair, after sex glow, some of your marks still on him, angry and red and just a blanket, barely covering his lower half. 

He caught you staring and smirked. Of course, he did.

“Like what you see?”

You smirked back, turning to him completely, your hand sliding to his chest, pushing him back down, you follow. Both sighed when your lips met in a chaste kiss that lasted probably less than Dean’s purity pledge.

“Yeah…” you said breathlessly, “... as a matter of fact, I do like it.” 

His hand pulled you down again, you fell on him and ...GROOOWL…

“…”

“…”

“Was that me or you?” he asked, surprised.

“…that…was me ...I didn’t really eat a proper meal yesterday. What time is it anyway? you asked, propping your chin on his chest. In the bunker’s quarters, there was no natural light so it was impossible to know if it was night or day.

“Uhhmm, barely 7.”

“Should ...should we make breakfast? Sam’s probably already up.”

“Actually…” his hand grabbed your ass hard, and you yelped. “I was thinking of something else for breakfast, that didn't  include my little brother!” You giggled and kissed him softly as if you just gave him the good to go. He flipped you over and kissed you hard. He was going to repeat the great performance of the night before when your stomach protested again. You started giggling, turning red at the effort to control yourself and pulling the pillow over your face. 

His head fell on your shaking with laughter chest and he snorted. 

“Breakfast.”

“Breakfast.” came your muffled voice. 

With one of his plaid shirts on, and swimming in it, you picked up your clothes and he watched you smugly from the bed.

“...you are certainly enjoying the show Dean! Thanks for the help…! Where the hell did you throw my shirt?” you huffed, bending down, Dean’s head following your movement as his lips smacked.  

“Stop looking at my ass!” you said as you opened the door to peak outside. “Okay, the road is clear…” you turned to him, only to find him walking to you in all his naked glory. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish which was trying to breathe out of the water. Your brain struggling to form words. 

“…”

“What?”

“I’m trying real hard not to look down right now ...soooo hard!” 

You bit your lips trying not to smile and keeping your eyes locked on his. He smirked and pulled you to him to kiss you, grabbing your ass again. Before you could reciprocate, he slapped it, pushing you out of his room.

“I’ll wake up Sam if he’s still sleeping and call Jack. We’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” he said winking, before closing the door in your face.

“…assbutt!” you muttered.

“I heard that!”

Fresh out of the shower and in new clothes, you trotted down the hallway to the kitchen. You mourned the loss of that cozy, plaid shirt that smelled of Dean but better avoid getting Sam choked on his breakfast. Or even worse, having to endure the teasing, at least for the time being. As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by a very domestic view. Dean, with a grey t-shirt and washed out denim, fumbling at the stove with a kitchen rag draped over his shoulder. Sam in sports gear, sitting and pouring coffee into the mugs, with an apple in his mouth. Jack was sitting patiently and when he saw you, he smiled and, bless his soul, got up to give you his seat.

“Good morning Y/N!”

“‘Morning Jack! Please sit down. I need to stretch my aching, old bones.”

“Why? You had a workout session last night or somethin’ ?”

Your head snapped to Dean who was filling plates with eggs and bacon trying not to laugh. 

“…No …Dean…I think I PULLED a muscle while sleeping!” you said between your teeth, welcoming the hot cup of coffee Sam handed you.

“So…Y/N…” Sam started, grabbing your attention. “I didn’t hear you come back yesterday. How did it go?”

“I got suspicious looks, skeptical looks, lecherous looks. I got names, I got sales and I got drunk. I guess it went well!”

“…Okay…I’m glad, I guess.” he snorted, “When’s the next trip?”

“Soon. A day or two. This time, if Dad lets me…” you said, giving Dean the stink eye who choked on his eggs. 

“I’ll start with the new one near New Orleans and then those two in Florida. It’s still not too hot around here. I’ll cross out those first so I don’t fry myself this summer.”

“I guess you have it under control then. Let us know if you need anything.” 

Sam got up and placed his plate in the sink. “Well, I’m out. Later guys!”

“Jack do you have anything to do this morning?” you asked, taking Sam’s seat.

“I don’t think so.”

“Driving lesson? I don’t have anyth-OUCH!” something bumped into your shin and you looked at Dean,  “What!?”

“You want to give the kid driving lessons?!” he hissed between his teeth as if Jack couldn't hear him.

“I promised him, and this afternoon I have to work on the samples.”

“But –”

“I’d like that.” Jack smiled and you looked at Dean triumphantly, biting the strip of bacon.

“Anyway, where’s Cass?”

“Angel radio went online again.”

“Case?”

“We still don’t know.”

“Umm ok. Jack, you done?” you asked and he nodded handing you his plate. “Great! Let’s go!” you said chirping. Dean’s hand caught your wrist.

“Jack, go ahead, I need to speak to Y/N.”

The boy nodded and exited the room. 

You rolled your eyes and turned to face Dean.

“I’m not gonna fight you on-mmmpf…” he suddenly trapped you against the table, kissing you deeply, your hands fisting his shirt as his got lost in your damp hair.

He tugged gently at it to guide your head back and you looked at him with hazy eyes and labored hot breath, “Jesus! You are infuriating!”

You snorted softly and, closing the distance to graze his lips, you whispered: “…workout session, really?”

“Where is Jack and Y/N?”

“Driving lesson,” Dean answered grumpily while scanning the police bulletin. Sam’s eyebrows shot up looking at the mess on the desk.

“Case?” he asked walking up to Dean, rubbing his shower, wet hair with a towel.

“Maybe…” 

Sam peeked at the scattered papers, browsing through them.  “Dude..” he snorted and Dean lifted his eyes puzzled, “Why are you specifically looking into Louisiana news?”

Dean snatched the paper from his brother's hands, “I’m not.”

“Do I need to remind you that I perfectly recognized your I-got-laid face?” he said, plopping down onto the chair across Dean, picking up another sheet of paper.

“…you want to help or not?”

“Sure.” Sam chuckled.

Pressing your fingers on the bridge of your nose, you called out: “Guys? We are back!”

“Library!”  

“Here!” the brothers answered back.

“Before we come in, I need to ask you not to freak out. Especially you Dean.”

They looked at each other confused, then they saw you with Jack right behind you, coming in. Dean’s eyes widened in shock

“What the hell!?”

He was in your face in a flash, quick hands tilting your head up.

“It’s nothing…” his gaze fell on Jack behind you, his mortified face smeared with some dried blood, holding a bloody tissue against his hairline.  “Jack?”

Gently removing his hands from your own face, you tugged at them and his eyes were on yours again, “It’s not his fault, don’t freak out!”

“What happened, Y/N ?” Sam asked, handing you a tissue. You used it to dab your nose.

“Jack got scared when some animal crossed the road and he slammed the brakes. Nephilim strength and all ...my face hit the dashboard and his head hit the steering wheel. My nose is still bleeding because, you know…” you gestured yourself, “ … human!. It’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt anymo-UGH…”

Dean had pressed the tip of your nose with his finger and the sudden, sharp pain made your eyes tear up. 

“It’s not broken at least,” he said clenching his jaw. You grabbed his arm again, looking at him with pleading eyes. He exhaled softly and looked behind you at Jack who was nervously avoiding his gaze. “Kid, you alright?”

“Yes…it doesn’t hurt anymore…Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“Pfff, it’s nothing! …look…” you said, bumping your shoulder with his. “It’s dangerous to stop like that, and we were lucky the road was deserted. But you did it to avoid an animal.” You winked at him, “I do that too…when I can…” You smiled reassuringly, pried the blood-soaked tissue from his hands and turned to the boys, “I’m gonna go wash this mess off."

Dean made a move to come with you but you nodded to Jack and Sam who was patting him on his shoulder, “HE needs you right now.  Go be papa.” you said grinning and walked to your room. Dean watched as you lifted your head up again and quickly put Jack’s tissue in your pocket, but didn’t think much of it as the task of reassuring the most powerful being in the universe fell on him and his brother now.

Confused, you looked down at your hands, sweaty under the blue, neoprene gloves.

“What the…”

Without noticing, you had put the tissue with Jack’s blood, in a sterile envelope. In front of you, several labeled falcon test tubes on a rack, each with a piece of bloodied tissue inside. Wobbling you stepped back. 

What …what happened? 

You heard a buzzing behind you, the centrifuge had finished its cycle.

“When did I ..?” 

Something wasn’t right. You remembered saying to Dean to look after Jack and then…nothing. You made an effort to recollect the rest and felt a sharp pain. You grabbed your head and at that moment you heard a knock.

“Yes?” you shrugged off the lab coat and the gloves.

“Y/N? You alright?”

“Sam !” your body bolted to the door, opening it a bit. You squeezed through the tight space and closed it quickly behind you. “Yeah, the bleeding has already stopped.  What’s up?”

“It’s been almost an hour since you disappeared. Dean didn’t find you in your room so we were looking for you”

“Ah yes, I thought I'd put in some hours in the lab, so this afternoon I’ll have more time to be lazy and do nothing.”

“…Oh okay…well, there are some sandwiches, if you are hungry.”

“Famished!”

“Found her in the lab.”  

Sam announced, entering the library, you trotting behind him trying to match his pace.

“I should have known you were nerding.” Dean scoffed, throwing a wrapped sandwich at you. You weren’t ready and you juggled it between your hands trying to not to let it fall, and failing miserably. Clearing your throat you quickly scooped it up off the floor, huffing your hair out of the way and straightening up, so very quickly.

“Wow…!” both brothers said together.

“Where’s Jack?” you asked, sitting down.

“Moping in his room,” Dean said, chewing.

You made an unhappy sound and Sam scoffed. “He’s okay Y/N. He wasn’t hungry and wanted to finish a series he started last night”

“What time do you want to leave for Louisiana?”

“…I haven't thought of it yet. Why?”

Dean squirmed in his seat, casually balancing the beer bottle on his knee, “Oh…nothing just…you know… asking.”

Sam hid a knowing smile. “Dean’s found a case in New Orleans!” he blurted out, taking a bite from his sandwich, very pleased with himself and watching Dean scowl at him in panic. 

“Oh…?”

“…Yeah, some vamps…nothing fancy. Probably just some poor bastards who got turned during Mardi Gras.” He looked nervously at you, “So, I was thinking…I don’t know …maybe…”

“He’ll give you a ride.” Sam finished for him.

“Yeah well …it’s the same direction”

“…Such coincidence, right?” you snorted smiling, “Alright, alright. Can I ride shotgun for the first few hours, at least?” you asked Sam.

“Oh, I’m not coming,” he grinned. “I’ll stay here in case Cass comes back from heaven with some news.”

“Right… cool…”you scowled at Dean who just winked at you over his beer and you had to hide your smile behind your food.

“God…! You two are embarrassing!” Sam whispered but neither of you heard.

The afternoon passed with you closed up into the lab and Sam and Dean teaching Jack how to care for firearms and sharpen the machetes for the vampire job. After dinner Cass came back without news, for now, saying he’ll try again the next day.

“Y/N …! Your nose…” he squinted at you, face closing in. You had developed a bruise and it started to hurt more during the day. He touched your forehead with two fingers and suddenly, energy tingled through your body to your face, the pain a long gone memory.

You widened your eyes, touching your nose and looking at the boys open-mouthed. But they dismissed your surprise with a  smirk.

“Soooo, drinking night?” you asked patting the boys on their shoulders “Can we bring Jack out to enjoy life instead of keeping secluded in this hole?”

“I’m not sure it’s a –” Dean started.

“Great, I’ll go get him!” you cut him off and you were already down the corridor, completely missing a baffled, mouth left open, Dean. 

You knocked on Jack’s door and opened it. He was laying on his stomach in front of the computer, completely absorbed. Perfect visual of you during college.

You shook his arm and he looked at you startled. “Y/N …your nose…is better!”

“Cassie’s angelic fingers… that came out wrong. Anyway, change clothes. We are going out to drink.”

“Why do I have to change?”

“Because you are wearing a star wars T-shirt, which is great… but here,” you said, picking up a white t-shirt and the camel jacket laying on the chair, “Put these on and go join the others.”

Moments later you found them waiting for you. You had opted for a simple, casual skater dress, a cropped denim jacket, biker boots and your perfect shade of matte red lipstick. The one that you'd need holy water to rub off. Your hair was kept in a side braid with some strands framing your face. What you were most pleased with, though, in your outfit, was a thin, velvet choker adorning your neck. It was an accessory you loved and wore whenever you could.

“Did you even change?” you asked, looking at them. Apart from Cass, who had his own thing going on with the trench coat and Jack, the brothers were...well, they looked like always did.

“Of course! I changed shirt, see?” Dean said pointing at his red shirt, which was actually …pretty hot. “Sam even brushed his hair.  He’ll scare the ladies away with that luscious mane”  he joked, Sam’s bitchface, a precious reaction.

“Sure ...or maybe they'll come on to you and you won’t know which one to choose!”

Dean’s smile dropped and he looked at you nervously.

“What’s up with that anyway?” he said, pointing at your neck. “Missing the 90s?”

“...I want it that waaaay!” you chanted, skipping past them and up the stairs.

“...Gross!”

“Wow…this is busy!” you shouted over the noise of talking people, clicking billiard balls and music. You saw an empty table in a corner and dragged Jack there with you, the others following. Sam and Dean took your orders and went to the counter.

“So…everything’s ok so far?” you asked Jack.

“It’s noisy, but I like it. There are a lot of people.”

“It’s gonna be ok Jack. You’ve made a lot of progress. It’s unlikely you’ll hurt someone.”

“Geez, thanks, Cass!”

Later into the night, Dean went to hustle at the pool tables to gain some money dragging Cass with him. It was because of his poker face, he'd said. Sam had vanished somewhere and you hoped he was with that brunette you'd seen before, making eye contact with him. You and Jack stayed at the table watching the scene.

“Having fun?” you mused, slouching on your seat and looking at him.

“Yes, this is fun!” he smiled sweetly, taking a sip out of his, now, warm beer.

The alcohol had started to have its effects half an hour before and you still had to finish the third round but you were growing weak at drinking.

“Dean’s made a friend!” Jack said. 

Your ears perked and your eyes searched for him. They landed on this cute, blonde girl who was clearly flirting the fuck out of him. You were not the jealous type and you knew Dean was also a nice person so chatting was nothing to worry about and he clearly wasn’t affected but damn … you bit your inner cheek.

“That he did…” you said bitterly, shifting your eyes to the people who were dancing to some folk song. 

“Hey, Jack.. ever danced?” 

Without waiting for an answer you dragged him by his arm into the crowd.

“I don’t know how!” he shouted over the music.

“I don’t know either!” you laughed back. “Let’s just copy the others!”

You grabbed his hands and watching other couples you started to get the hang of it. It looked like something you often saw.  Fast, jumpy and fun. Jack was stiff as a pole and it hadn't been easy for you to make him unwind a bit, but half an hour in and you were now both dancing. 

Horribly, yes but Jack was having fun. 

You called a break when he stepped on your toe for the fifth time and moved to the edge of the dance floor.

“ ’s that your girl?” you heard some guy question Jack who looked at you, confused.

“…She's my friend.” he said.

“ Great!  Wanna dance?” he asked, turning to you this time. 

“Umm…actually …n-” but before you could say something else he grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the crowd. You tried to resist and strained your neck, searching for Jack but people blocked your eyesight and calling after him was impossible over the loud music. Irritated you switched your attention to the stranger.

“I didn’t say I wanted to dance with you. Please, let go. I can’t leave my friend alone.” he started to sway you to the music, still dragging you around. You played along, trying to get out of it the easy way. 

“Aww come on, he’s old enough and there are plenty of girls who can keep him company. None of them lookin’ as good as you, though.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Ok…thank you, that’s sweet. But I’m here with someone, actually.”

“Yeah! I saw you entering with the village people but they are all busy, right now. Tall fella disappeared with a nice piece of ass, uncle blue eyes is cashing money and red shirt is busy with blondie.” Your heart skipped a bit at that, and you tried to look where you had seen Dean last but you couldn’t see over all those tall people.  

“Honestly… his loss!” he forced an arm around your waist, keeping you tightly against him. Your arms tried to push on his chest.

“Listen ...I'm flattered, really. But I’m here with my friends, I just wanna have fun.”

“That’s what we are having now, no?” 

He twirled you around from one side of the dance floor to the other, moving you further away from Jack. If you could barely see him before, now he was nowhere to be seen. 

This was starting to irritate you. “Look, you seem like a nice guy…a nice, forceful one. Maybe you didn’t hear me well enough. Let. Me. Go. I don’t wanna dance with you now.”

He laughed, twirled you around again, and embraced you tightly. This guy had a steel grip and you couldn’t wriggle your hands out of his.

“I like your accent!” 

“I like my hands free!” you retorted. You tried again to squirm out of his arms but he was squeezing too tight, almost hurting you. Now, you were starting to panic. What if Jack read the situation badly and snapped? 

Oh shit!

“Ok, listen! It was nice but I really have to go look for my friends, now,” you said, turning your head to him. You jumped, startled as you found his face mere inches from yours.

Uuuuh, nope!

You stretched your head back, your back curving away from him, but he followed you and you felt his breath on your skin. Turning your head to the side, you had time to see a very angry, stone-faced Dean coming your way.

Fuck.

Before you could warn the poor bastard, Dean grabbed him by his shirt collar, hauling him off you with too much ease, and he landed on his ass. Dean’s icy gaze stared down at him, literally warning him to stay down. A couple of people stopped to stare at the scene, probably looking for something to record and laugh about later. The guy stood up and you could see he was now pissed.

“I was giving your main bitch some fun! No need to be possessive…” he blurted out.

Oh’ no!

You hurried to grab Dean’s arm, right before he made a move to punch the moron. “Dean! Dean, stop it! I don’t care” 

He turned to look at you, his fist still raised.  “Come on! Let's go! You can teach me how to play pool, yeah?” 

He gave another dirty look to the guy and lowering his arm, let you lead him away.

“That’s a nice leash you have around your neck!” the guy called out, loud enough for both of you to hear. You felt his arm muscles clench under your fingers.

“Son of a-” he turned, with every intention of slamming the idiot but he had run somewhere, the instinct of self-preservation probably having kicked in. “That coward!” you heard him growl, then his attention fell on you. “He didn’t touch you in weird places, right?”

“Nope! I think he was going for forced kisses before forced touches ...thanks,” you said, the last word almost whispered.

“You are more than capable of looking after yourself. Why didn’t you flip the guy?” his tone stern. 

What the hell?

“I didn’t want to make a scene. Me and Jack …? We were having fun…” 

You saw his disapproving, sulking face before he resumed walking to the table, dragging you by the arm and the irritation rose again. 

“…And from what I’ve seen… you too ...were having fun.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, dropping your arm and turning slowly to you. You groaned at his smug smile. “My, my, my …is that…?” his smile only growing bigger. “Are you jealous…?”

“What?!...’Course not!! ” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Son of a bitch… you are! Look at that pout! Adorable!” he joked.

“I really want to smack your face right now” you spat through gritted teeth. Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze. “Let’s just go back to the table,” you said covering your blushing face with your hand and marching by him, ignoring his little laugh.

 Before you could surpass him, he grabbed your forearm, twirling you around and into his arms. He kissed you deeply and quickly and whispered in your ear, “Don’t be. I don’t have the energy to put up with another. You’re already a handful!”

You smacked his chest playfully, “Good to know!” 

You walked to the table trying to squeeze between the crowd, having Dean right behind you with a hand on your nape to guide you through it. Suddenly, you felt really really hot. Better save this idea for later, too.

“Well, that was fun!” 

You jumped onto the kitchen counter and opened the plastic bottle that Dean had tossed your way, taking a few, long gulps of fresh water. “God I’m glad this place is underground,” you said, shrugging off your jacket.

“Sooo…leaving after tomorrow is cool with you?” he said leaning on the table across from you.

“Yep….you know ...I'm not sure if you are being considerate or wished really, really hard for some case to be on the same direction I'm going.” you smiled, smugly.

He smiled back and crossed the space that separated you two, his hands grazing your thighs, face inches from yours. 

“Y/N, how dare you…! Vamps are a serious threat…” he said lowering his face to kiss your jaw, your head moving to give him better access. “Sitting this one out goes against my morals!” 

He pulled you closer and you opened your legs to welcome him.

“Oh yes! I know but... I saw the ‘case’” your hands smoothing the crease on his red shirt right above his chest.  “... And that’s a poor excuse of one!” you looked up at him from under your eyelashes. He opened and closed his mouth in embarrassment.

“…well…” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking like an adorable, little shit. 

You lifted your legs and locked them behind him, bringing him forward, as he lowered to your lips. 

“Can I drive?” you asked, grinning.

He smiled into the kiss and picked you up, “It’s cute that you still ask me that”

“One day, Winchester… One day!”

Your muffled giggles faded away behind door number 11.