#also back to your regularly scheduled facts...soon

[macabr3-barbi3]

I know you’re on a Vox kick rn but if you get back into Al anytime soon I had a bit of an idea!

Maybe reader was hanging out with Al, not realizing he was courting her (and she was technically accepting) and then she went out and basically cheated on him bcuz she had no clue they were low key together.

Anyway he totally flips and PROVES they’re together…?

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHHHH

I did go the nsfw route with this one so 👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy!!!

Tags: accidental cheating, semi-public sex, , possessive Alastor, tentacles as a gag sort of lol

MDNI 18+ 3.3k words ❤️🦌

You didn���t think anything of Alastor’s raised eyebrow when you accepted Angel’s offer to join him out at a club, or how his clawed hand grips his cane a little bit tighter when he spots you coming down the stairs in the outfit that the spider had picked out for you. You give him a smile and a wave on your way out the door, and if his eye twitches a little bit, well- Alastor was a weird guy.

Which didn’t negate the fact that he was hot as fuck; not to mention a complete gentleman, and funny, and overall kind when he wasn’t in a murderous rampage and eating people. And sure, he had gotten a little closer to you lately- you enjoyed a cup of coffee together every morning, he always made sure to save you a seat at the dinner table, he would get you little trinkets and bits of jewelry or treats when he was out and about in the city. Whenever you accompanied him to Cannibal Town he insisted on paying the tab, and always made sure to walk you back to your door before retiring for the night; he would invite you to his room for evening tea, and you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder only to awaken tucked comfortably into your bed more time than you could count. Last week he had even given you a peck on the cheek instead of just the back of your hand, a sweet blush overtaking his features before he vanished into the shadows, and it took everything in you not to grab him before he disappeared and invite him into your room.

Because Alastor wasn’t interested in those things. That was what you heard from everyone, from Angel, from Husk when you had drunkenly confessed to him at the bar one night. That it was better to just put the idea from your head, the Radio Demon has never shown any inclination towards things like love and romance or sex. You were loving getting closer to him, becoming a companion he enjoyed spending time with, but you had needs that couldn’t be met by the sweet words and kind gestures of a friend.

Hence, your presence with Angel in Consent. He was here to drink and dance; you were here for that as well, but also maybe a quick hookup in one of the club’s sex rooms. It had been far too long since you’d had a decent tumble in the sheets, and the continuous frustration at being so close to Alastor and perpetually unable to touch was driving you mad. You took the first drink that Angel handed you and knocked it back in one go, smiling when the spider whooped like a lunatic and dragged you out onto the floor.

More than an hour of accepting drinks from Angel (he was the one with money between you) and dancing with any and everyone, it was almost, almost what you needed. The air was hot with how many demons were jammed into the space of the dance floor, sweat dripped down your face and the small of your back, and your chest heaved with the force of your breathing when you finally opted to take a break. You squeezed Angel’s arm in a temporary farewell and made your way to the bar. You thought about putting one more drink on his tab but decided against it, opting to ask for water instead.

“Excuse me,” you hear to your right, and you’re met with the sight of one of the demons that Angel worked with; not one of the actors, but maybe a cameraman? Light technician? Either way, he was someone you had seen around Val’s studio before when you came to collect him at the end of the regularly scheduled nights. He was tall and attractive, and his eyes had seen too many of the shoots in Vee tower because they were just screaming ‘fuck me.’ “Think your boyfriend would object to me buying you a drink, pretty thing?”

“Considering he doesn’t exist I don’t think he would mind,” you say, and when he smiles all sharp teeth at you the low buzz of arousal isn’t quite the same as it usually is with another razor-tipped grin.

He wasn’t Alastor, but you would make do.

-.-.-

It’s barely ten minutes later that you’re walking back to the hotel alone with a stain on your nice, borrowed skirt- you figured with Angel’s line of work he would know how to get it out. You had texted him that you were going home already, too miffed about the shitshow in the sex room to ask him to accompany you, pissed enough that you think you can handle any asshole that might try to mess you with on the way. Val’s lackey had hardly managed some kissing and fingering before thrusting himself into you and giving a few quick pumps before he groaned and stilled against you. Pulling out, he trailed across your hiked up skirt and asked if you had ‘gotten there,’ and you laughed in his face before pulling your shirt back up and leaving.

“Fucking men,” you were muttering under your breath, not noticing the shadows that slipped along the sidewalk behind you as you walked with the strange sensation of the man’s release on your thighs. “Either not interested in sex at all or so fucking eager for it they bust before I can even fucking-”

Something slips around your head and covers your mouth, effectively cutting you off. Your hands come up to grab at it, tear it away, and another circles your waist, dragging you back into the dark shadows of a nearby alley. You bare your claws, eyes flashing red and preparing yourself for a fight when you realize the demon before you is Alastor.

A supremely angry Alastor, by the looks of it. His smile is tense and strained, eyebrows drawn down low in a glare as he looks down at you, nearly a full head shorter than him but refusing to cower under his rage- not realizing that you should probably be scared. “Fuck, you scared me,” you start, pulling the slack shadow tentacle away from your mouth, only for it to tighten once again and force you back into silence.

“This manner of betrayal,” he says carefully, like the words are being plucked from him with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, “is unacceptable.” His voice goes full static, the intensity of it almost hurting your ears. “Of all the scum that inhabits Hell I’d never have expected this from you, cherie. Tell me,” he demands, trailing a clawed finger down your cheek and removing the shadow over your mouth. “What could have possibly possessed you to act in such a manner?”

“Alastor, what-” The heat of him so close to you, not quite touching but close enough that the slightest movement would slot your bodies against one another, has your brain fuzzy. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”

“I can fucking smell him on you,” he snarls, and now he does step close enough to touch, caging you between his body and the wall behind you. “His cologne on your clothing, his release on your skin. You claim to not know what I refer to when I could just as soon touch the evidence beneath your skirt before you could deny it?”

A hand comes down to the bottom of your skirt, toying with the hem, and you nearly choke on your breath. The dying arousal you had felt earlier from the demon in the sex room returns at full force, even as confused as you were with the situation, with what Alastor was saying. “Why- fuck, why does that matter? Alastor!”

You cry out in surprise when his fingers reach under your clothing, the brush of his thumb against your inner thigh before he pulls back, the thin substance of your partner’s cum coating his finger. Your face flames with heat when he brings the digit to his mouth and fucking sucks it clean. Somehow, this seems to calm him, his breath steadier and his eyes losing some of the murderous glint to them. “That you would lower yourself in this way,” he murmurs, his smile twisting into something sarcastic and hurt, “when you’ve had an attentive, willing beau this entire time that you’ve not deigned to touch, or asked to touch you in return?”

“B-beau?” His hand has returned to the space below the hem of your skirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin there, only distracting you a little. “What-”

“Perhaps a lesson, hmm? To remind you of who, exactly, you belong to. Of course darling, we’ll first have to rid you of the evidence of your transgressions…” And in a move that shocks you almost as much as it makes your stomach clench and swoop, the Radio Demon drops to his knees on the damp, dirty asphalt of the alley.

Your breath punches out of you when he looks up at you, head level with your lower body, and asks, “or do you have any objections to that?” With his hands fisted in the fabric of your skirt.

“No! No objections, fuck, please” you manage, and then your pussy is met with the cool air of the night as he shoves your skirt up and your panties simply vanish. It’s hardly a moment of anticipation before his tongue is pressed against you, warm and slick and circling incessantly at your swollen clit and then dipping down, licking at you with determination that makes you cry out, the sound echoing in the alley. “Alast-” 

A tendril of shadow pushes past your lips, and Alastor hums against your pelvis below you. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every word. “Already one person too many has seen you in the throes of passion tonight- I’ll be damned if there is another.” He licks your drenched folds again, the strong line of his nose keeping pressure on your clit as he angles his head and pushes in, and your hands fly off the wall to clutch desperately at his hair. The sounds coming from where he’s connected to you are loud and lewd, wet suckling noises as he bends and twists his agile muscle inside of you.

The tentacle thing in your mouth isn’t large enough to choke you, and tiny snippets of sound still escape you from Alastor’s ministrations. Your body feels like a livewire, crackling with energy that stems from where he feasts on you and threatens to shatter outwards, destroying everything in its wake. He pulls back and you whine at the loss, the shadow petting your tongue almost soothingly when Alastor looks up at you, eyes wild. “Almost finished, dear,” he murmurs. “I’ll ensure that every trace of that cretin is gone- he tastes vile, not even this much of him deserves to be anywhere near you.” He releases your skirt at last, his fingers pressing against the entrance of your cunt with a smile and his tongue swiping the evidence of what he was cleaning you of. “A cheap substitution for me, to be sure; allow me to provide a more refined alternative.” His finger hooks inside of you, mindful of the clawed tip, and drags slowly, brushing against that soft spot inside that makes you see the white of static behind your eyelids, makes you clench down hard on the digit before it slides out and Alastor stands to his full height again, satisfied that he has successfully removed the cum of the stranger, hands at his waistband and pulling his belt open with a clink of metal.

He hikes your legs up around his waist, and you feel the hot length of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. "Will you allow me to take you, darling? Feel the sweet clench of you around me at last, and erase every remnant of the unworthy sinner before me?"

“Fuck, yes, Alastor,” you pant when the tentacle slips from your mouth, and fucking finally his lips are on yours, and its everything you had been fantisizing about for months. His tongue glides against yours, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth, and you moan at the taste of yourself on him. Your voice is lost between his teeth when he presses into you, his cock like velvet coated steel against your inner walls, still pulsing and twitching from being right on the edge of your own orgasm. He groans into your mouth when he reaches the hilt, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and bucking his own forward to sheath himself further inside of you.

“Divine,” he murmurs against your mouth, sharp teeth catching on your lips and causing blood to pool on your tongue before he can suck it away. “Perfect, darling- well worth the wait, even considering the situation we find ourselves in.” Its frankly unfair how well spoken he still is, even as he steadily pounds into your willing body without so much as a catch in his breath. “I’ll never again be satisfied unless I am on the verge of spilling into the tight heat of your body. How does that sound, d-dearest?”

Finally his voice cracks, his body stuttering against yours as he fights to maintain his control. “Please,” you whisper, “please, I’ll do anything- I need it.” He laughs against your neck and drags his tongue over your sweaty skin, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be. He fucks into you with a reckless abandon that was surely going to get you caught, moans and whimpers tearing themselves from your mouth when he occasionally releases your lips to nip and suck at your skin. “I’ve wanted- for so long, please…”

“You could’ve had me,” he growls, “at any time. And instead you’ve come to this den of delinquency and allowed another to take you instead. But we’re fixing it now, darling-” His hips slam hard into you, the sound of his balls slapping your skin with every thrust the only thing you can hear under his moans, under yours, the cries that echo within the space between you.

A hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer not for a kiss but to rest his forehead against yours. “Tell me,” he demands, and it feels like a plea with how wide and manic his eyes are, how desperately he bucks and grinds into you. “Tell me you’re mine. Promise you’ll never go to another again- that I am enough.”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly, “yes, Alastor, please-”

“Say it,” he snarls, his sharp teeth snapping inches from your face, his smile possessed as he pounds into your cunt with a feverous need. “I need you to say it, darling, my doe, please-”

“Yours- oh fuck, please, always yours, Alastor- no one else, never again-” He cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth, like he means to steal your breath, to swallow you whole from the inside. He releases your head to rub skillfully at the sensitive bundle of nerves above where you’re connected, and your world goes white as you cum, a scream lost into his mouth as you shake in his embrace, internal walls clamping down with brutal force, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be.He loses his rhythm against you, his pelvis stuttering with a couple more sharp thrusts before he stills, spending himself inside you with long, hot pulses that make you shiver in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

You stand there trembling against one another for a moment before Alastor assists you in standing on your own feet again, righting your skirt and getting rid of the stain on it with a snap of his fingers. He keeps his hands on you after he’s tucked himself away, over the curve of your waist, your arms, fiddling with your hands in the space between your bodies. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and hurt.

“I must know, darling- what was I lacking?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“In my courting,” he clarifies, and cups your cheek in one hand. “I so wish you had come to me first if you had needs to be met- surely you must have a reason for why you didn’t do so?”

“Courting? What are you talking about?” 

He freezes, the static fading from the air around you in mere moments and Alastor searching your eyes. “I mean myself, of course,” he says, and while his voice is clear there’s a hint of surprise to it. “We’ve been courting for the better portion of a year.”

“We’ve what?” You think of the closeness you had shared for a while, the gifts and friendly touches and such that you had been interpreting as mere platonic affections. “Oh Satan,” you breath, as you realize you’ve been misunderstanding this whole time- he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you- he was upset thinking that you had gone elsewhere when he would have been more than happy to-

Alastor’s hand leaves your skin and he takes a step back. “You… you accepted, dear,” he says imploringly. “My- my gestures, my affections. I thought-'' His eyes widen and his smile goes tense, his entire body following suit. “It would seem I owe you an apology, darling. I see that the situation at hand has come about of my own incorrect assumptions.” His shadows retreat, the shape of his form already less than corporeal when you let your hand dart out to wrap around his arm as he tries to slink away.

“No! Wait, please, I didn’t know-” He resolidifies before you, his expression still guarded as he looks down at you. “I promise- if I had known I would have never come out with Angel tonight. I thought- everyone told me you weren’t interested in sex or relationships, so even though I had those feelings I wasn’t going to make it your problem.”

“Hence your presence here tonight.” He sighs, the tension melting from his body as he comes closer again, reaches out for you and holds your face in his hand. “I was trying to be courteous in my courting of you; taking it slow so as not to startle you away. You truly didn’t realize with the time I spent with you, the small gifts and gestures?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything and make you make a run for it.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small, half annoyed half incredulous huff accompanying the movement. “It seems a bit of communication might have saved us both the wasted time. I admit I feel like a fool, for not simply being upfront regarding my intentions.”

You also felt like an idiot- instead of talking to him you had let the others scare you out of months of what could've been nights full of blissful pleasure rather than frustrated tossing and agonizing over your own feelings. Just before you could open your mouth to tell him how sorry you were for the mess you felt you caused, he was already speaking, his voice soft and yet rough around its edges. 

"Well, then let's not cry over spilled milk. Too many moments were wasted already, we won't waste one another with useless apologies, since I believe both of us have made our standpoints quite clear a few minutes ago, don't you agree, darling?"

As if to help you recount, he presses his forehead on yours, a slender arm wrapping around your waist, and you can't help but smile back at his grinning face. He doesn’t release you as he allows you both to drop into shadows, and you can’t wait to see what life will be like properly at Alastor’s side.

[milktei]

Homecoming

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Sickfic, hurt comfort

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers

Requests: Closed*

a/n: hello hello! (is acting like i haven’t been gone for forever), can you believe i found this just sitting on a random note in my phone 90% done???? i literally wrote this over a year ago and never found the motivation to finish it ;-; due to its age toshi might be a bit ooc.

anyways, i’m not entirely back yet but i keep seeing lovely comments and reblogs that just make me want to start writing again ;-; maybe with the haikyuu movie being released soon my motivation will amp back up. ALSO i’m gonna try to start reblogging regularly again

*request box is still technically “closed” but if anyone has some genshin or *ahem* Baldurs gate 3 requests, i may be inclined to write if they pique my interest :)

enjoy!

If there was one thing that you knew for an absolute fact. it would be that volleyball would always be his main priority.

You knew this well before you started dating him, it was part of the reason you refused to admit your true feelings for him. You refused to take him away from his first love. Something that he was so visibly passionate about.

So you stayed on the sidelines, watching wistfully as the boy you had a crush on rose higher and higher, while you stood on the ground looking up in awe. This was comfortable, you were content with just watching and admiring. It was all you thought you were able to do.

Until he had asked you out first.

You had genuinely thought that Tendou was joking when he had told you that the Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you as anything more than one of the team’s managers.

His face was always devoid of emotion. Your interactions were limited to him nodding in thanks as you gave him a towel or water bottle, or him humming in acknowledgment as you relayed to him the notes you took after the most recent practice match.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of him, just outside the gym after practice, heart absolutely racing as he asked you out on a date.

Your first date was awkward to say the least. Having never spoken outside of club activities, you found it hard to keep a conversation flowing as you two sat in a cafe sipping your drinks.

He had walked you back to your dorm that day, but before you could go in, he had grabbed your hand.

You stared in shock at the large hand enveloping yours, “Ushijima?”

Suddenly, you felt a tiny gust of wind and a slight pressure against your forehead. You could only stammer dumbly as you realized the pressure was his lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He was heavily avoiding eye contact and turned his head to the side, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I don’t know much when it comes to this stuff. But I know I would like to go out again… if that’s okay with you of course.”

You gaped at the boy in front of you “I- um we…” you took a deep breath to centre yourself and smiled “Yes I would like to go out with you again Ushijima.”

Your relationship progressed quite fast after that. More dates, hanging out with him and Tendou in their dorm.

You were there for everything, cheering him on during games, you were the first person he would seek out when he won, you comforted him after a loss.

Your relationship lasted through high school and even university. It wasn’t long before you two ended up moving in together.

When Wakatoshi found his place with the Schweiden Adlers you were ecstatic. You had also just landed a great job and it felt like your two were simply cruising through life with ease.

Unfortunately your seemingly perfect life would never last forever.

Being in the v-league, volleyball seemed to fill his schedule more now than ever. Constant practice, games outside of the city even in other countries sometimes.

You hardly saw Ushijima anymore despite living with him. Even when you did, he was tired or just about to leave for practice.

It felt like you were pushed back into the sidelines. Watching hopelessly as he rose higher and higher, to places where you could not reach. It was no longer comfortable, you could no longer look in awe, but in despair as you watch him slip from the already loose grasp you had on him.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you went on a date. Every time you mentioned doing something in his free time he had brushed you off.

Which led you to now.

You woke up to an empty bed yet again. It was your day off so you weren’t rushing to get out of bed.

Yet you felt off.

The dryness in your mouth and throat is what you felt first. Then how runny your nose was. Finally, the cold sweat you were experiencing.

You were definitely sick.

You groaned to yourself and pulled the blanket to your chin. Hoping that you could possibly sleep it off.

Yet your efforts were in vain. After what felt like hours of trying to fall back asleep you realized that you were just going to feel even more miserable without anything to eat or at least drink.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately regretted it. The world spun around you and your entire body shook. You collapsed back onto your pillow and panted at the exertion it took.

As you caught your breath you turned your head towards your bedside table, where your phone sat charging.

Weakly, you lifted your arm and with a bit of effort you were able to grab your phone. As it turned on you winced at how bright the screen was and with bleary eyes you managed to open your contacts.

The words seemed to blend together as you searched through your contacts, you nearly sobbed in relief as your eyes finally focused on the name of your best friend.

You clicked the call button and dropped you hand to beside your ear, preparing for the way your throat would undoubtedly hurt as you spoke.

After a couple rings you heard the person on the other side pick up and you quickly began speaking, desperate to get them to come quickly so that you could hopefully feel better.

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re busy but do you think you can bring me some drinks and maybe food? i’m not feeling the best and I don’t know if I can get up at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone began talking but you could barely decipher it as your head spun and your body shivered despite how warm you were.

“-/n….y/n?”

You froze at the deep voice on the other side of the phone. You pulled away an looked at the screen, nearly breaking down at the sight of Wakatoshi’s name instead of your friends. Quickly you put it back against your ear

“Ah I’m sorry Toshi. I meant to call a friend you’re probably busy you don’t have to come back home.” you said quickly, actually sitting up as you rambled nervously, reprimanding yourself for interrupting his practice.

You had called and texted him during practice before. At one point he was fine with it, responding during breaks or calling you back once practice had finished. But lately you had been greeted with one worded responses, or you were just ignored.

One time you even tried to pry once he got home from practice, asking him about his odd lack of response. That day, he had turned to glare at you.

“I’m busy y/n. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“You’re sick?” your thoughts were interrupted by his voice again. He used a tone much gentler than the one he had used that day.

“A little bit, nothing to worry about I can just call-“ you cut yourself off with a harsh cough, unable to hold back the whimper as your throat throbbed in protest.

“I’m coming home.”

Whether from his words or the fever you couldn’t tell, but a chill ran down your spine

“N-no toshi you don’t have to I’ll be fine don’t leave practice just because of me”

“I’ll stop by the store for some ingredients don’t get out of bed.”

And with that the call ended. Slowly, you took the phone away from your ear and looked at it in shock. He was leaving practice early. Something you weren’t aware he was willing to ever do.

At least not recently.

Only when the shock settled, did you realize just how much your body was protesting you sitting up. So, despite your better judgment, you lied back down, waiting in nervous anticipation for him to come home.

What might have been half an hour felt like forever as you laid in bed. Shivering underneath the comforter despite sweating profusely, rubbing your nose raw from having to blow it constantly, all whilst it felt like you were spinning.

In your haze you didn’t even hear the front door or you bedroom door open. How could you when your body demanded all the attention you had?

Wakatoshi stood frozen in the doorway, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, silent as he took in the state you were in.

How hadn’t he noticed before he left? you couldn’t have possibly entered this state within the couple of hours he was gone.

He felt a tug of unease pull at his heart and willed himself to walk up to you.

“y/n,” he called softly. sitting on your side of the bed.

You flinched at the sound of his voice not knowing he was in the room. Slowly, you opened your eyes and winced at the light in the room.

“Toshi,” you croaked pathetically.

His face softened and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, frowning when he felt how warm your forehead was.

“Hey,” he greeted, he lifted a hand and that’s when you saw a thermometer from the medicine cabinet in his hand “can you open your mouth please?“

Weakly, you did as he asked, and as it sat in your mouth, he quickly walked towards the master bathroom. Mumbling something about a towel.

You didn’t hear him however as you turned your head back towards the ceiling and already felt your eyes drooping again.

You only came to when you felt something cool against your forehead, you opened your eyes to see Toshi looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. The thermometer beeped and when he looked at the reading the crease deepened.

Toshi disappeared for a moment again, making his presence known when he began to take the comforter off of you.

You whined as he did so, shivering even harder as air hit your body. You even sat up to try and grab it back.

“‘s cold toshi,” you slurred.

He was quick to place a thinner sheet on top of you “I know dear, but we have to get your body temperature down.”

As you pulled the blanket closer Wakatoshi opened the bag he brought with him. You heard the rattle of a pill container and then the crack of a bottle being opened. Wakatoshi turned to you and held out some medicine and water.

You reached out a shaky hand to take the medicine, placing the pill in your mouth. Wakatoshi helped you hold the bottle, noting how weak your arms were.

You sighed in temporary relief when you finished drinking, glad that your mouth felt less dry.

Wakatoshi allowed a small relieved smile to cross his face and he quickly helped you lay back down.

“I’ll make you some food, stay here.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable he made his way to the kitchen quickly getting his ingredients ready.

It was only when he was midway through washing some rice when he took a moment to pause.

When was the last time he had cooked for you?

Wakatoshi continued his task albeit feeling guilty thinking about how you’ve been the one cooking and eating dinner alone for some time now. It used to be a shared responsibility. Now he usually came home late so you would put a plate aside for him or he would go out to eat with the team.

He was still deep in though as he pushed the bedroom door open with his back, a tray consisting of a bowl of rice porridge and a cup of tea left a trail small trail of steam as he walked.

You were asleep but woke easily at the sound of his footsteps. It took a moment for your eyes to focus on him.

He gestured with the tray, “Do you think you can eat?”

You looked at the food, perfectly plated and garnished, your mouth watering slightly at the savoury smell.

“I think so. At least a little bit.”

He helped you sit up, and when he saw the weakness still in your arms he fed you himself.

You hummed contently at the first bite of food. You had missed this more than you thought you did.

After about half the bowl was done and your tea finished, you signalled that you stomached as much as your body would allow. Now with your body temperature having gone down and your stomach full you could feel yourself becoming less and less loopy. You watched quietly as he put the tray on the bedside table. When he was finished with that, he sat still on the bed and stared at the wall.

You looked at his face, despite it deceptively lacking emotion, you knew better than anyone else that something was bothering him.

However before you could ask he began to speak

“Why wasn’t I the first person you contacted when you realized that you were sick?”

You froze, looking down in your lap fiddling wIth a loose thread in the blanket.

“…Well…you’ve been busy as of late….I didn’t think it was important enough to take you out of practice. Someone less busy would have probably been willing to come.”

He slowly turned to face you. “You didn’t think that your wellbeing was important enough?”

You shrugged, “Well volleyball is always going to be your biggest priority. I’m just sick it’ll pass.”

Obvious distress crossed Ushijima’s face “y/n, you are my main priority.”

You paused. Perhaps it was time to tell him how you were really feeling instead of dancing around the subject.

“…It hasn’t felt that way lately.” you say hesitantly, your voice small.

Wakatoshi faltered. You kept looking down, almost scared to look him in the eye.

“I was content with that at first, your love of volleyball is admirable, it’s was drew me to you at first. But it always made you seem unattainable. When you asked me on that date all those years ago I was over the moon,” you paused to clear your throat huffing in annoyance as your sickness interrupted you.

“But I can only endure so much Toshi. Nowadays it feels like your going where I can’t reach. You’re always busy, which is understandable for a professional athlete… I just wish it wasn’t to the point where I’m worried about your reaction if I were to try to talk to you.”

There was a shift in the mattress. Then familiar arms that you had been longing for wrapped tightly around you.

“Toshi you’re gonna get sick.”

“It’s fine,”

“but-“

“I’m sorry y/n.”

you stiffened but stayed quiet to let him speak.

“You’ve done so much for me without complaint and I have done so little in return. i’m sorry for letting it get to this point. It took you getting this sick for me to realize.”

A stormy look crossed his face, “I… I’ve been struggling to balance work and home, in return I’ve been neglecting you and letting how tired I am influence my reactions. you don’t deserve that. you are my first priority y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear that fell from your face. You didn’t even know you were crying. For a man usually so quiet and stoic, he always knew what to say to you when he needed to. It was always so endearing to you.

“If I had known you were going to take it this well I would’ve said something earlier,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly, “I haven’t been making it seem that way hmm?”

You shake you’re head but smile back, “no”

He sighs to himself but places a gentle kiss against your forehead much like how he did all those years ago. Your eyes flutter shut and you make let out a pleased sigh. You were much more comfortable than you were when you first woke up.

“We’ll talk more once you get better. I promise,” He eventually says. holding you a bit closer to him.

You nodded and snuggled closer to his chest. While it wasn’t an immediate fix, it was a start.

“Sounds good to me Toshi.”

He smiled down at you “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

that’s my man

Word Count - 7200

Summary: Cole loves to train, and it’s no secret that’s how he’s number three on the Grind ‘24 list. But it’s also no secret that in the summer he loves taking his girl with him to the gym. But what happens when the new check-in doesn’t get the memo that Cole is in fact taken. 

Warnings: jealous girlfriend, easily embarrassed boy, talks of different kinks, VERY sub male, dom female, praising kink, thigh riding

Author's Note: I don’t know a lot about lifting, but I know enough to write this. Also if you're someone who goes to the gym regularly. They are doing a full-body day because you can fight me on it but it’s actually better as far as recovery time. As per usual, I was too lazy to do a full grammar edit, so sorry in advance. Anyway, thank you for reading as always. 

Masterlist

One of your favorite things to do in the summer was go to the gym with your boyfriend. Honestly, you don’t know what it was that made it your favorite summer activity. Maybe it was because you knew Cole cheered you on like no other when you beat a PR. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the only humans who you truly trust as your spotter knowing that man will injure himself before anything happens to you. Maybe it was that somehow he always wears the same damn white snapback and tightest shorts he has. Maybe it was because you loved being able to tease him in between sets. Maybe it was the fact that you were able to just stare at him while his muscles tensed to lifting the heavy weights. If you were being honest with yourself it was probably a mixture of all the above that made you happily jump your ass in the car before him when he asked if you wanted to come. 

This time was no different when Cole walked into the kitchen and hugged you from behind as he asked if you wanted to go to the gym with him. You happily agreed, especially since you couldn’t go the other day with him due to your work schedule. Quickly nodding your head yes, you ran upstairs to get some leggings on, crew socks because you liked lifting in socks, and a random Montreal crop top with 22 on the sleeve. Once you were done, you threw some vans on and went downstairs to meet Cole in the car. He already had the AC blasting and music on. As soon as you buckle your seatbelt, he is pulling off and handing you your water bottle he filled up. “Here you go Mamas” he shyly says, rarely does he call you by that name and whenever he does it makes himself blush. Deciding to reward him for the pet name you reach over and lightly kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby boy.” you can’t help your smile grow as his cheeks get even more red.

It’s like time escapes you and before you know it Cole’s parking the car.  Both of you are shuffling out of the car. Cole waits for  you at the back of the car and flexes his hand, you know he wants you to hold his hand but he won’t say it out loud. A large part of you loves how shy he still is even after almost a year together. Slowly you reach for his hand that isn’t holding your water bringing it to your lips and leaving a small kiss. “Happy baby?” you ask shyly, he didn’t have to answer you already knew the answer. As you watched his cheeks stay that light red color, and smile shyly down to you.

Once you're inside you hear someone call Cole’s name, you turn your head to see it’s a girl you don’t recognize behind the desk. Cole starts to walk over, pulling you automatically due to your interlocked fingers. “Oh hey Chesley, nice to see you again.” Cole starts to make small talk with the girl and you can’t help but notice how she stands dipping over the counter trying to put her breasts on display. As if that’s not already too forward, she lightly touches Cole's upper bicep as his arm rests on the counter. 

“I’ve been great, I’m so glad to see you again… you know after the other day.” Her voice makes your stomach hurt.

“What was the other day?” you ask even though you know ignoring this girl was probably for the best. The little jealousy that started to brew in your gut couldn’t help but want answers.

“Oh you know when you were working the other day. That’s when I met Chesley and you know how the locker room door gets stuck sometimes y/n/n, well she didn’t know how to get it unstuck and she had to use the bathroom” you nodded your head yes but your eyes never left the girls as she wouldn’t stop staring at you “- and I was the only one here so I helped her.” Cole sounded like he had no idea what he just walked into and he probably didn’t. “Oh wait let me introduce you guys - Chesley this is my girlfriend Y/N, Y/N, Chesley.”  

“Hi nice to meet you.” you say your other hand is going to wrap itself around Coles arm that was still holding your hand. Not caring if it came off bitchy when you didn’t extend your hand especially since she hasn’t stopped batting her eyelashes at Cole since you got here. 

“Hi. oh Cole well if you need anything I’ll be here. I know last time you forgot your water.” The way she said it slipped like it was some secret between them. But it did cause your face to wrinkle in confusion because it didn’t make sense.

“Water? Baby you never forget your water.” you say turning to him.

“I know, but I was leaving as my mom was calling and I guess I got distracted.” His cheeks are still a soft pink from earlier in the parking. You couldn’t help but smirk at how easily embarrassed Cole gets sometimes. As you glance back to the girl, you see her smirking thinking she’s the reason for Cole’s blush, and something twists in your stomach. 

“It’s okay because I let him drink from mine. Plus you earned it shoving that door open after your… Hard workout” As she reached up to touch his arm again. Cole must have finally realized what was happening and pulled away. He really isn’t big on physical touch from people he doesn’t know and the fact he pulled away makes you smirk.  

“Well we're gonna go see ya” you don’t even pretend to be nice as you pull Cole away. You can feel her eyes following you to the turf as you put one earbud in, put on your playlist, and shove off your shoes. 

“Hey mamas, do you want me to spot you first?” he asks as he sets his water down, as you shake your head no. Handing him the other earbud and he quickly puts it in his ear. 

“It’s okay Cole you can go first today, I need to stretch anyway.” Cole can tell by your voice that something is wrong but decides not to push it. He walks over to the barbell that’s on the floor, adding the proper amount of weight while you finish your dynamic stretching. As you look up you can see Chesley starring at Cole while he sets the bar. 

Possessive isn’t a word you would normally use to describe yourself but as you feel your jaw set with her watching your boyfriend shamefully as he bends down to make sure the weights are fully locked in. Something about this girl shamelessly staring at his thighs makes you want to claim Cole, mark him as yours even though she already knows he is. You glance over at Cole as he moves the bench to behind the bar, knowing that means he’s decided to start with hip thrusts. Cole starts his set of twelve reps, slowly raising his hips each time, you can’t help but let your mind wander as you finally start to make your way over to him. Once he’s done with his first set he sits up shoulders resting against the back of the bench, the bar rolling stopping barely mid thighs. You come up to him from behind, separating your legs so they’re on either side of him and sit down on the bench. Your hands remove his snapback teasingly put it on yourself. “Hey give it back.” he says in a fake annoyed voice. His head tilting back so he can see you with a pout on his lips. Both of you know however that his announce and pout are fake and that he likes when you wear his clothes even if it’s just a simple hat. Your fingers lightly scrap at his head, his body automatically relaxing under your touch. His hands move away from where they were resting on the bar, to moving to the sides of your calves pushing you closer to him as he sinks into your legs. “Feels good love.” softly closing eyes, letting himself get lost in your comfort for a few seconds. Although you love this little moment you're having, the jealousy in you, can’t help but glance up at Chesley, as she quickly averted her eyes as you make eye contact. 

“Alright my time for my set.” you say as you remove your fingers from his hair and place his hat back to keep his hair out of his face. As you find both you moving around the gym, you still find the girl’s eyes following your boyfriend. Later when you were benching you could feel her eyes like a bad itch on your skin. Cole being your spotter could feel you start to slip as you were doing reps until failure. 

Cole hand was right there ready to help you if you felt like you needed as you finished one last rep. But once he saw you second guess the last pushup he didn’t give you a choice. “I got you baby.” as he gently helped you lift the bar to lock it in the stand. 

“I am proud of you know, you realize you just benched as much as Luke does. AND you got more reps in than him the other day!” with a small chuckle. 

“Yeah well he’s barely been in the gym all summer so nothing to celebrate.” you mumble annoyed at yourself.  As you watch your boyfriend bend his head over the bar to look at you, slightly frowning at your pout. 

“Okay so he’s a lazy fucker we knew this. But do you want to hear the lecture about how insane it is that you're a girl and your muscle density isn’t-” you pull Cole down with a smile on your face and kiss him upside down.

“What’s that for?” he mumbles, not fully pulling away. 

“To shut you up but also thank you.” you mumble as you pull away you see Cole’s cheeks bright red and as you sit up you see Chesley looking at you both from the check-in desk again. 

This isn’t your proudest moment and you're not sure if it’s you being frustrated that your spotter actually had to rescue you or just Chesley staring all morning at your boyfriend. But you decide at that moment, to turn on the PDA even more which is wild because you and Cole never have this much PDA in general. It’s almost impossible to find pictures of you online together kissing or even cuddling because you both respect your privavy and like keeping intimate moments private. Slowly you started with little touches as Cole set the weights on the rack for himself. He was so focused on what he was doing barely even noticing at first. But as you glanced up you could tell she took notice and you couldn’t help the smirk on your lips. 

Eventually, Cole did catch on to the fact that you would let your fingers ever so slightly graze his arm, or touch his thigh after a set. Everytime, he did you could feel him getting more shy and almost twitch away from your touch in shock. His cheeks looked like a lobster shade of red almost permanently from all the small touches you left behind. 

Later as you were doing jump ups, making sure your ass was on full display for Cole. He got embarrassed when you put your ass practically in his face instead of easily going from the other side. “Sorry Coley” you whine out as you turn around and see the almost permanent blush on his face from today. Once you jump down from the box, take your hand and lightly rub it down his chest and slowly bite your lip trying to look innocent. His dick twitching in his compression shorts between all the touches and now you are looking at him with that look in your eyes.  

“Hey are you okay, love. You’ve been off since we got here.” he asks suspiciously. The gulp he let out didn’t go past you. Part of you started to feel bad for doing this to your boyfriend all morning, but you also didn’t want to hear his reaction to your insecurities about the new girl. 

“Yup peachy.” trying to make your voice a normal tone but failing miserably. He gives you that look that tells you he knows you're lying. But before he can open his mouth you sigh. “I might… be a little jealous.” you barely whisper as you hide your face with your hands and shove it into his shoulder. Naturally he wraps his arms around you, tightening his grip unconsciously as if it was the most natural thing in the world to hold you. 

“Jealous of who?” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down to have a private moment despite being in a semi crowded gym. It wasn’t often you felt insecure or jealous and Cole knew that you probably didn’t want others to hear about you having an off day.As he looked down at you, finally you felt like showing yourself to him and  you removed your hands from your face. 

“The new girl, she won’t stop staring at you and yeah I know you're hot. But I’m literally right here! She could at least pretend to respect me.” With each word your voice raises to more of an annoyance. 

Cole shyly smirks “ okay let her” as he dips his mouth to your ear. “She’s not the one who’s made me hard right now.” You tilt your head up to him and take your hand to caress his check. 

“Oh yeah?” you can’t help but tease him a little.

His mouth finds your ear again, “ yeah you have me almost begging you in the middle of the fucking gym how badly I need you.” He doesn’t bother removing his face from the crock of your neck, pressing his hard on to your thigh. 

“Oh yeah.” your hand goes to the nape of his neck pushing closer. You hear him make a sound of agreement. “What do you want me to do baby boy?” At this point you should probably stop considering you're in the middle of the gym but you wanna see how far Cole is willing to go before he whines to go somewhere else. 

“I just need you please, you can use me however the fuck you want I don’t give a fuck. But if I could choose I’d have you ride me as you used my cock to get yourself off. When my mouth plays with your boobs and you play with my hair while you tell me how good of a boy I’m being for you mamas.” Cole usually isn’t so forward with what he needs especially in public and it makes you drip at the thought of claiming him. 

“Imma grab my shoes okay baby. Can you be a good boy and go to the car and wait?” you can feel him shake his head yes. “Okay good I’ll drive us home baby. I know you don’t wanna get caught by one of the boys as I’m fucking the shit out of you in the car.” You can hear him grunt as he pulls away from you pulling down the ends of his shorts trying to hide his hard-on. He backs away and turns towards the wall where you discarded your slip-on vans earlier and your water bottle. By the time you turn away Cole is already gone and you can’t help but smirk as you know he’s probably already in the car waiting for you with the AC already blasting. 

You quickly make your way out of the gym but can’t help but hear Chesley try to get your attention. “Oh Y/N you're gone so soon! Is Cole not feeling well? He usually spends hours here… with the boys.” Trying to control your breathing but honestly you wanted to clock this girl but knew that Cole loved this gym, you took another deep breath. “Guess you don’t have the stamina that he does.” Her voice sounding like the scratching of nails on a chalkboard, although you control yourself not to hit her, your mouth isn’t as easily convinced. 

“Actually Sarah was it? We just decided to get some cardio done at home instead. Cole didn’t think the owners would like it if we fucked in the middle of the turf.” Your voice comes out so sweet and innocent pretending that you have no idea why Cole would see anything wrong. You smiled as her mouth fell open, “well see ya around” as you walked out of the gym and quickly made your way to the car. Opening the driver's door you let yourself get settled in the seat, purposely not looking in Cole’s direction. You grab your airpod case and put your airpod away realizing that Cole already put the other one away. 

As you adjusted the seat and mirrors to be able to drive home you could feel Cole’s eyes burning into the side of your face. Finally you decide to give him a little attention, “thanks for listening so well baby.” as you take your right hand off the wheel and put it on his thigh slowly moving your hand up and down. All of the teasing must have gotten to Cole more than you thought because he softly buckled his hips trying to get you to put pressure where he needed it most. “And just when I compliment you for being a good listener you try to be a brat.” Your mouth making a ticking noise of disapproval as you turn onto the highway heading back to Cole’s place. 

“Please, i’m sorry” you can hear the pleading in his voice even though your eyes are 0n the road. It kind of hurts your heart a little denying Cole when he didn’t do anything wrong. 

“I know baby boy, it’s okay, I’m not mad” you say as your hand inches closer to where he needs it. Coming up on your exit, both of you realize you're only ten  minutes away from his place. “What do you need?” you ask softly as your hand gently goes over his bulge and gives a light squeeze. His one hand was going to squeeze your wrist, the other that was leaning against the window flexing as he leaned his head back. 

“I - I na need” you could tell Cole was getting overwhelmed and for once you were grateful you were close to home so he didn’t get too worked up before he could have his release. 

“Do you want me to help you cum?” you ask, your hand still not removed from the bulge that as you glance over makes you squirm from how uncomfortable it looks like it is, Cole shakes his head no quickly.

“Nnn, no. I want you, I wanna taste you mamas.” His words have more of an effect on you than he even realizes. But sadly it logically doesn’t work if you're driving and Cole knows that too. 

“Baby we're five minutes from home now okay and then you can have me I promise.” The hand that was on his bulge moved to his face and squeezed his cheek. The pout on his lips makes your knees feel weak. He shifts in his seat so that he can lean over so that his head is resting against your upper arm. Both of your hands now on the wheel for the first time this entire drive. It takes everything in you not to pull the car over and just take care of him right here but being so close to home it just doesn’t make sense. 

“I know.” you hear Cole mumble, although you're not looking in his direction, you suspect that his eyes are closed and that he’s pouting. Removing your right hand from the wheel you find one of his and put it under your crop top. His head lifts up as he feels his hand move under your shirt. 

“Mamas?" he asks in a questioning tone probably thinking about how obvious it looks to the people we pass as I turn into his neighborhood. 

“It’s okay baby, you got tinted windows.” That's all it took for Cole to unbuckle his seatbelt so he could shift in his seat fully to face you. He dipped head under your crop top and you could feel him push up at your sports bra desperately as his mouth closed on your right boob and sucked. His right hand going across your chest to squeeze the other one. “Fuck bubs. Hmmm..” one hand busy turning on your street, while your other hand goes to press Cole’s head deeper into your chest. His mouth is swirling and sucking hard on your nipple now. Wanting him to know that he’s doing a job you let out a small moan. He moans in response with your nipple in his mouth, the feeling going straight to your core. “Coles were home” you whisper, quickly removing your hand to press the garage remote. Driving into the garage and parking. Cole still hasn’t moved from under your shirt but now that the car is parked at least you can let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

Throwing your head back against the headrest and closing eyes. Your hand going under your shirt to pull at Cole’s hair, not sure where his hat disappeared to but grateful you were able to touch his hair finally. After a minute or so you became antsy to go inside. “Cole baby, it’s time to go inside.” you say in a semi-serious tone. All you hear from Cole is a grunt that you can assume means no as he squeezes your boob not his mouth harder. “Come on baby, we gotta go inside, you're acting like a brat bubs. Don’t you like being a good boy.” knowing exactly what to say for Cole to remove himself from under your shirt and start to move finally. As he pulls away, you catch him in a needy kiss, biting his lip by surprise easily taking control of the kiss. Deciding that you need to move away before you end up not leaving the car. Both of you rush out of the car, Cole running around the hood to meet you picking you up unexpectedly makes you chuckle as he sits on the hood of his car, quickly stepping between legs. He connects your lips again but quickly you take control of the kiss, Cole moaning in response. He pulls away after a minute to catch your breath, and he pulls on your shirt, refusing to use his words. 

“Baby you know you have to use your words. What do you need bubs? You gotta tell me.” you say slowly encouraging Cole to use his words instead of pouting. He also knows when he uses his words 90 percent of the time he gets what he wants. But when he’s in this state of mind, of needing to be taken care of. He tends to struggle with using his voice, which actually turns you on even more but you will never admit that to him. 

“Can I take it off mamas?” softly pulling at the fringe at the end of your shirt. He looks up in your eyes and you shake your head yes. He quickly grabs your shirt and rips it off the top of your head. Quickly making contact with your chest leaving soft wet kisses and soft bites everywhere but not hard enough to leave a mark. The feeling makes you lean your hands back to give him more access. “I wanna taste you.” he whimpers as he continues his attack on your chest slowly moving up to your neck. 

Quickly you move your arms that were extended behind you to around his neck, crossing your legs behind him. “Take me upstairs, first baby boy.” you demand.

“Okay my love.” As he picks you up and turns you both so he can carry you up the few garage steps and into the house effortlessly. Both craving each other, you lean in and continue to deepen your previous kisses, quickly feeling more desire for eachother then before. Cole can’t stop whimpering as you pull at his small hairs at the back of head as he enters the bedroom. He softly places you on the bed, without breaking contact with your kiss. Both of you kick your shoes off as soon as you make contact with the bed. He slowly pulls away sitting up on his knees to catch his breath asking, “can I please eat you out now mamas.” 

Cole usually doesn’t whine for this long, he also usually doesn’t have to wait this long for what he wants. As much as you want to to edge him on and push his limits. The idea of him sinking when he never has before makes you nervous. “Okay baby go ahead.” The smile on his face makes your stomach warm with anticipation. Lifting your hips, you help Cole take your leggings, underwear and socks off. Deciding to take your sports bra off as well. 

“Wait bubs, you gotta take something off too” reaching forward you pull his shirt above his head. Slowly you scoot up on the bed to give him more room to lay down. Leaning against the headboard as Cole dips his head down giving you wet kisses, lightly nipping your soft skin on your stomach as he makes a trail to your pussy. Moving your legs to make more room for himself, keeping his hands on your thighs making sure they stay further apart to give him more access to your core. Slowly he dips his head down and looks up at you waiting for your direction. One of your hands is going to move the hair out of his face, “go ahead baby.” 

That’s all it takes for him, to shove his mouth in your folds licking up and down as if his mouth had been in a drought for days and this was his first sight of water. He closed his eyes enjoying tasting you after begging for it for so long. His hands pressing down on your thighs pushing you closer to you. The hand that wasn’t playing with his hair, going to your boob to play with your nipple. “bubs feels good, always such a good boy for me.” you softly coo your encouraging words to your boyfriend. He decides to put your attention on your clit, moaning as he hears your breath catch in your mouth. The sensation going straight to your core, feeling yourself being worked up. Deciding that if you were gonna cum off of his mouth you needed a new angle. Pushing his face away, he got the message and pulled away, not without a small pout on his lips. 

“Lay down on your back.” your demanding  tone leaving no room for argument. Quickly he laid down beside you, his head resting against the pillows. His leg twitching in nervousness not going past you, as you smirk down at him. Sitting on your knees beside him your hand goes to lightly go over his bulge in shorts. Knowing that it was mean but not caring as the idea came to you. “Bubs you're wearing too many clothes, I’m gonna take your shorts off.” Your fingers moving up to his lower stomach, pushing down in the start of his v-line making him whine a little in response. Then returning your hand to his bulge and giving a light squeeze, Cole bulks his hips in response not caring if he got punished for it. “Babyboy wait, then once you're undressed, I am gonna sit on your face and use your mouth to get myself off.” As you slowly start to pull at his shorts and boxers he lifts his hips automatically to help you. His brows frown, wanting to know what happens next. 

Barely over a whisper he asks “ then what?” 

“I’m gonna tease you, and suck you off until you're begging for me to ride you and let you cum inside me.” Lightly take your pointer finger and trace the vein that’s so visible on his dick. “Do you think you can handle that bubs?” you ask as you start to sit, getting ready to swing your leg over his shoulder. 

“Ahmm.. yeah mamas” 

“Good boy.” Finally, swinging your leg, before you lower yourself all the way down you ask “remember the sign if you need a break right.” making direct eye contact with his hazel-gray eyes. He shakes his head and with that you sit down, your hands resting on his chest for stability. Slowly you start grinding on his face. Cole’s hands go to the back of your thighs, kneading the flush there slowly creeping up to your ass, pushing you even closer to him. Quickly you find your pace, rolling your hands as Cole’s long tongue goes in and out of your core. The pleasure slowly starts to build, you increase the speed of hips rolling, basically just grinding on his face. 

“Yeah right there baby. Don’t stop.” you encourage him. Your nails starting to dig into Cole’s chest, the little bit of pain Cole felt going straight to his dick. His hands are scratching down the back of your thighs. Starting to feel the familiar coil your stomach straightens to tighten. “Fuck I’m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop.” His nose starts to nudge at your clit, as Cole pushes you down making you sit completely on him. That being the final act being enough for the tight warm feeling your stomach to explode. “FUCK fuck I’m coming Cole. fuck” repeating it like a prayer, Cole only mildly slowing down his actions licking up all your juices as you work yourself through your orgasm. Finally, parting from his mouth you crawl down to his boxers.

“Did I make you feel good?” he shyly asks. God how you loved this man, and how he always needed to be reassured that he made you feel good. 

“You did so good baby” you softly tell him, as you straddle him. His hands go to your hips pulling you closer as you bend down so your chest is flesh with him. Starting at his most sensitive spot on his neck, immediately getting his breath to catch in his throat. Smirking as you do kitten licks, finally putting your mouth on the spot and sucking making sure to leave a bruise. “Gotta make sure I mark you so that girl knows you're taken.” The jealous feelings from earlier today slowly rising in your chest again. 

He squeezes his hands on the flesh of your hips at your words. “Mark me everywhere, cause you're the only one who I ever want to see me like this for the rest of time.” His cheeks immediately became bright red, you know that he didn’t mean to confess so much and it was in the heat of the moment. But you can’t help the butterflies form in your stomach. Kissing his cheek giving him nonverbal comfort for his confession. 

Moving on you make your way down his chest, leaving hickies on the center of his chest. Licking down each of his abs, up and down and up again. Then softly biting each ab, probably leaving bite marks, Cole doesn’t seem to care as his moans grow into groans at the pleasure. “Ppp ple- please mamas.” almost as if he’s crying out.

Glancing up at him, you see how overworked he’s getting. “I taught you better than that bubs, use your words.” Your mouth doesn’t leave his lower stomach as you make eye contact with him through your lashes. 

Cole takes a few seconds to collect himself as his hands up and down your shoulder blades, something you know he does when he’s feeling a lot of things and needs to ground himself. “Mamas it hurts.” he whines out taking another ragged breath. “Can you please help me cum.” He begs and you swear you could never say no to him when he asks so politely. You shake your head yes, and you kiss down the side of his v-line. Quickly making your way down, you leave little love bites and kitten licks up both of his thighs alternating between the two. Moving his legs so bent and open more giving you more room to down properly between them. Cole is a whimpering, moaning mess at this point. Each sound from his loops turning you on more and more. Finally making it his almost red tip, softly kissing and licking it between the slit. Cole automatically bulking his hips. Taking your hands you push down on each of his hips so he can’t move them any more. His heads going to your hair and you know that it’s going to be a matted mess but the end of this. 

Taking your tongue, you start at the base and lick down the same vein you were teasing earlier. Then going back to kiss each of his balls which you know he would describe as ‘blue balls’ if you asked him. “Fuck mamas, feels so good” his eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure your finally giving him as your mouth puts the tip in your mouth. Softly sucking, slowly taking more and more until your softly choking. Cole usually isn’t this vocal in bed but you're loving how much he always moans and grunts when you take him in your mouth. His fingers threaded in your hair, as you moved the pace of your mouth. Cole never dares to push your mouth down, scared that he might accidentally hurt you since he knows he’s bigger than most. “Augh I- I am close” he whispers and he starts moving his hips unconsciously. Deciding to quicken your pace to help him cum faster, within minutes he’s crying out in pleasure and curse words as he shoots his cum into you. Continuing to suck until he comes all the way down, and tries to wingle out of your grasp scared over getting overstimulated. Finally you pop yourself off of him, a huge smile on your face as you look up on Cole as he looks properly fucked out, that glow on his skin as he pulls you up to his face. Softly he brings you into a kiss “Thank you mamas.” he whispers once he pulls away for air. 

Kissing his neck softly, as he arms tighten around you. Sitting up stranding is lower stomach, you have a devilish smirk on your mouth. “no love I don’t think I can” Cole says knowing where your brain is going without you even saying it. 

“Oh I think you can, but if you insist I know how to give you some rest while I still get what I want.”  your voice is cheekily teasing as you pull Cole to sit, sitting fully in his lap. 

“What?” he softly asks his forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I'd rather show you.” as you move your leg so you're straddling just his right thigh. Taking your left hand resting it on his cheek to turn his head in your direction. Moving your head to crain of your neck, as you sit fully on his thigh grinding down. Bending down slowly whispering in his ear “what if I just use you again to get off, it wouldn’t be the first time I use your thigh.” His hands tightening on your hips, his grip so tight you would be shocked if you didn’t have little bruises on them later. He hums in response as you softly kiss the hickies you gave him earlier in the crook of his neck as you continue to softly grind on his thigh. “What do you think, you wanna watch me use you as I use you to get off. I’ll let you play with my boobs. While I use you to get off, I’m not evil bubs.” Softly moving down to the spot between his collarbone and neck biting hard as he groans in his pleasure. 

“Fuck. Please” he mumbles as he softly puts his left boob in his mouth tightening his grip on your left hip. That’s all it took for you to roll your hips at a faster rate, alternating between rolls and purely grinding down on him. Breathing between both of you becoming uneven again, as you glance down to softly tease Cole’s cock as it’s already getting hard again. Cole softly bites down on your nipple, removing his mouth to hiss as you continue to softly tease him. “Do you want me to stop, I don’t know if I can get off watching you hard on. I'd rather be riding you.” letting you confess out quickly, your intrusive thoughts taking over as you slip off his thigh fully straddling him again teasing him with your hole. 

“Yeah I need you mamas please.” as he rests his forehead. “Wanna feel your warmth mamas.” You softly kiss his pouty lips, as your core clench at his words, pulling away from kiss whispering yes. Sitting down on him getting used to him, throwing your head back in your mouth at finally feeling full. Cole starts making little kisses on your chest and down the valley on your breasts as you start to bounce softly on his dick. “I wanna make you feel good please.” as he looks up at you silently asking if he can continue his attack on your breasts. 

“Go ahead baby boy.” that's all it took for him to put your nipple in your mouth, his hand kneading your other one, flicking and pinching the hard nipple. His hand on your hip shows the first sign of dominance from him today, by helping you keep an even pace. All that can be heard is your soft moans and skin slapping. Cole takes the hand that was kneading your boob to your ass kneading the flush until you're sure it’s bright red. His mouth going to your other boob deciding it needs attention. “Ugh ugh Cole fuck, you feel so good. You always fill me so well.” you voice is low, filled with your lust for the man you love. Your hand slips between the two of you to give your clit attention, rubbing small harder than normal circles on it. Your other hand moves to his hair, threading your fingers through his dirty blonde hair pulling at the roots. Cole’s mouth opened slightly at the pressure and groaned. 

“Fuck bubs. You feel so fucking good, swear your dick was built for me.” His hand on your hip helps you fasten the pace. His hips help meet your thrusts, making him hit your g-spot with every thrust.  All you can do is moan as you feel your entire body on cloud 9 from the pleasure you're feeling. “Augh augh fuck baby, your always so good for me.” you slur out due to the pleasure you feel from the start of your lower stomach tightening. 

Cole removes his head from your breast to ask “mamas i- i am gonna cum.”

“No” you demand. “Wait for me. I’mm close wait for me. Will let go together bubs.” leaning your head back as Cole leaves wet kisses down your collarbone, quickly removing the hand that was on your ass and lightly slapping it. “FUCK.FUCK. YES YES YES” you scream. Cole going back and slapping your ass a few more times, you can feel yourself about to let go.  “Let go baby, it’s okay.” 

That’s all it took for Cole to lean back and moan in pleasure as he shot his cum filling deep in your pussy and you let go. Both not stopping your thrusts until you come completely now. Cole just holds you for the first time today, kissing down the top of your shoulder while you catch your breath. “I love when you use my body.” he softly admits. 

“Oh yeah” your head softly setting into his neck. Although you can’t see him you can feel him shake his head. His fingers lightly ghosting up and down your back as he leans back so he’s laying down still on top of him. 

“You're the only one who I’ve ever let dominate me.” he admits, your head lifting up in shock.

“What?” The confusion is clear in your voice.

“You heard me mamas. You're the only one I feel safe enough to give that type of control to.” He admits his cheeks become a light pink as he lets his words sink. 

“Thank you baby. I love you.” as you leave soft kisses all over his face. Slowly you lift your hips to remove yourself, but his hands stop your hips. 

“No, we stay like this. I like being close to you.” Turning your bodies so you're both on your sides as he looks directly into your eyes waiting for a response. 

“Okay” you lightly let out, shifting again so you're on your back, Cole’s full body weight on you, as he settles between you. As your legs come up behind his back and hold him there. His face hiding in your breasts, softly kissing the valley of your breasts as he lets out a light thanks closing his eyes. He looks so comfortable you can’t help closing your eyes, your hands playing with his hair. Sleep almost grasps your consciousness. Cole's voice brings you out of sleepiness for a moment. 

“Mamas.” in a questioning tone to see if you're still awake.

“Hmmm” still not bothering to open your eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I like when you get possessive over me.” His tone is as if he’s listing a well known fact, as he snuggles deeper into you as you can feel him pulling a blanket over the both of you. The laugh that escapes your mouth is contagious as you feel Cole’s chest rumble above you. 

“Okay baby I’ll keep that in mind, let’s get some sleep.” you let out, little did you know Cole was already letting out little snores before you could finish your sentence.

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

[betterfettered]

Hello hello we'll be back to our regularly scheduled obey me programming soon but I'm so down bad for blade from honkai star rail right now so I wrote a real quick little thingy about him.

Your yandere kidnaps you

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere, please let me know if reader is gendered)(noncon)(violence against reader)(kidnapping)(forced affection)(masc rage)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)

Part 2

[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

You thought your master’s bondman was not just cute, but also harmlessly so. “Blade”, he called himself, which you thought was so melodramatic that you could not help but smile whenever you happened to see him. On greeting him, you bent your knee and lowered your face as a maid ought to, but surreptitiously peeked at him from beneath your fringe and pressed your lips together to hide a laugh at the stilted way it made him hold himself, the apathy in his expression stirred up into a vague discomfort. For all the chagrin his name heralded, you could not help but see an awkward man who liked heaps of sugar and a touch of salt in his tea, one who would nudge your arm with his knuckles before demanding in monotone that you reaffix his barrette and shivering when your hands brushed his scalp. A hissy cat, a moody kid with overgrown bangs – you were fond of him, and nowhere near as scared as you should have been.

In fact, that lack of fear made it hard to understand what was happening when he first locked you away. His expression not budging out of its typical hollowness, he simply wrapped his hand around your arm and began to lead you; you followed, as a servant did, through halls and down many stairs. You didn’t question it when he led you to a part of the compound you had never been to until a door shut behind you, hard, and you turned in time to watch him slide a bar into place to lock it. When he faced you again, it was to glare down his nose at you with his typical emptiness, this time with more intensity than you were used to.

There was a brief pause, then he raised his hand to your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost just above your skin until you raised your own hand to push his away.

“I o-ought to be going,” you said, taking a step back. “I’ve plenty of work to do.”

That was not the right answer. This time he seized your wrist, hard enough to make you hiss a little, and dragged you further through the hall you had been sealed in. It was hard to focus with your heart pounding so hard, but you tried to scan your surroundings to see where you were and only recognized that you were somewhere dark, poorly lit by dim bulbs and no windows, with his feet leaving prints in the dust telling you that no one had been down here for quite some time in a way that makes your stomach drop, because you have a bad feeling about anything he could need privacy for–

Your fears were validated as he pulled you into a tiny room, some defunct servant’s quarters you’d imagine, containing nothing but a small bed covered in threadbare sheets and a rickety nightstand. Panic overwhelmed you, and you immediately began to struggle against him like mad, your chest seizing up so hard that it took you a while to realize that that loud noise you could hear was you screaming, apologizing, promising to do anything else that he wanted if he just let you leave.

He had been uncomfortable trying to approach you gently, unsure how to do it with his hands reforged specifically for killing and only killing. Subjugation, however, was his only nature, and once you began to act like prey, he allowed his instincts to take over. The nails of your flailing hand caught his face but seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever; he wrenched you forward by your arm hard enough that you stumbled and then kicked your feet out from beneath you while still holding your arm so that he could press you onto your back as you fell. It was relatively easy to pin you after he did that, and he did so by planting his knee downwards into the soft flab of your stomach, driving it in a little deeper when you tried to squirm away and loosing a knife from his belt to remove your clothing with.

He fucked you like a punishment, pushing into you with no foreplay and holding you down by both of your wrists as he thrusted into you hard enough to make your fat thighs clap against his skin. He watched you rather emotionlessly, unmoved by the tears pouring from your eyes and down your temples into your hairline or the whimpers that occasionally escaped your lips despite how hard you were pressing them together. Wracked with pain and with humiliation at your body suddenly being so exposed and shock at how things had turned bad so quickly, how you were suddenly being pinned under him like this used like some disposable toy, you looked just beyond the side of his head and traced cracks in the ceiling while you waited for him to finish. The room had been quiet but for the hoarse creaking of the bed, so you were surprised when you suddenly heard a grunt from him: he freed one of your wrists to bring the back of his hand to his blushing face, covering his mouth as he finished, his eyes growing distant as he stared down at you and his cock pulsating inside of you, making you feel sick.

You expected him to fix his clothes and leave you there, back to his same nonplussed demeanor, but instead he continued watching you the moment that he came back to his senses. As though that would make him vanish, you squeezed your eyes shut and only felt what happened next. He grabbed hold of the bottom of your face with his horribly cold hands, the bandage wrapped around it feeling clammy with his sweat, and then his lips pressed onto yours and his fringe tickled your forehead. You recoiled in shock and disgust, retreating backwards into the mattress and turning your face away from him, wiping your mouth before you could stop yourself. You flinched, expecting to feel the bruising of his hands roughly handling you again, but instead he lied down on you a little gently, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he commanded.

It took you a second, but eventually you complied.

“Now say that you love me.”

“I--… I can’t,” you whispered back.

“You will. Say it.”

It took a long time for you to finally comply, and to his credit he waited in your embrace without moving as he awaited you saying it; eventually, your disgust was outweighed by your worry that he would never pull out of you and leave if you did not obey, so eventually you did finally whisper it into his hair, tears welling up in your voice as you pried the words from your throat.

After what felt like an eternity, he eventually left, but you were not allowed to because he locked the door from the outside when he went. In fact, you were kept in that tiny room so long that you lost track of time. You tried to measure your days by the showers you took in the adjoined bathroom, or the times you’d get hungry and eat some of the food you’d been left the day before, but you could not stop the time from blending together into slop no matter what you did.

It was easiest to measure time in when he suddenly reappeared to see you.

The first few days, upon just the sound of him unlocking the door keeping you shut in here, you would shake uncontrollably and fix your eyes to the ground. Once he entered, you tried to put as much distance between him and you that you could, though that was only a few steps or so. That ruined feeling, the unfamiliar slickness and soreness between your legs would rush back over you in memory and you’d feel overwhelmed to the point of dizziness, your trembling jaw barely able to form “please don’t” as he stared you down impassively. The second or third time you did this, he lost patience with it and dragged you kicking and screaming back over to the bed, but this time he only lied down beside you and rested his head on your chest, then demanding the same two things: to put your arms around him and say that you love him. You obeyed, sobbing, but sooner rather than later you got used to your new routine and became proficient, or comfortable even, in the new ritual of greeting him.

“Welcome back,” you’d tell him when he entered, going over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying him back and forth. Then you’d say you missed him or you were thinking of him or you were happy to see him. You started to wonder if that was actually true: he was your only human interaction, and after (what felt like) a few weeks you felt almost excited to see him, especially when he bought you things you requested, like wine and puzzles and lube and books. You felt like you could kiss him when he brought you a video game from his companion, though he seemed not to be sure what it was.

Well, more like you could kiss him and want to, because you often kissed him, actually. After greeting him you often led him, still emotionless as he always was, over to the bed where the two of you would lie down in the same position, his head on your chest and your arms around him. When you could stomach it, you’d roll over onto him and press your lips to his and moan into his mouth and grind on him, doing your very best to arouse him. Your hope was that if you preempted his lust with seduction of your own, maybe the sex would be easier, maybe you would have fewer nightmares that woke you up screaming. Strangely, your success with this strategy was variable: often times, he allowed your ministrations and then let you ride him until he came, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while his other hand covered part of his face. Other times, he seemed to grow overwhelmed with your affections, flipped you back over and rested his head on you again, burying his reddened face into your chest so you could only see the top of his head. You’d be confused, not sure what to do, and he’d quietly command you to do the same thing he always did: wrap your arms around him and tell him you love him.

Still, no matter what you did, you could not escape that often he wanted to hurt you. You could predict it based on how much blood he was covered in when he visited you or how he seemed to bristle away from your touch, but most reliably he was in this violent mood when he woke up from nightmares of his own, seemingly gripped with unwavering rage that drove him to want to destroy, whether that be furniture or himself or you. If you were unlucky and he went for you first, you’d be awoken by him striking you, hitting your face or dragging you by your hair or roughly tearing your clothes from your body. You learned better than fighting back quickly, as that only made him angrier, and so you just tried to shield your face and go somewhere else in your mind until it was over. Sometimes he’d fuck you dry, hard enough that you bled a little after, other times he’d hit you all over your body until it hurt to move, other times still he’d twist your arms painfully behind your back, lean into your ear, and tell you exactly how he was going to kill you in gruesome detail that made you want to vomit. He only seemed satisfied when your tears had run out and you stopped moving, overwhelmed by pain and despair, and then the room would fall into silence but for the sound of his panting, slowing breath.

After these rages were the only times he’d hold you and tell you that he loved you in a way you knew was meant to be comforting but only sounded flat and disturbed.

Eventually, he let you go (later you learned that it had been around two and a half months after you’d been captured). It was unceremonious – he simply left one day and did not shut the door behind him. It took you nearly an hour to summon the courage to leave, as you could not help but fear that this was some sort of trap, that he’d be waiting just beyond the threshold to punish you if you left. In the end, though, it was not, and after some walking you found yourself back in a central corridor of the compound with business as usual happening around you. It was hard to comprehend how other people were talking, laughing, cleaning, working without bone deep, paranoid fear strangling them. You’d dreamed of your freedom for a long time, of the relief you’d feel to be out of his clutches, but there was no relief to be had.

You could not sleep with any semblance of normalcy after getting out, so you often lied awake at night and wondered why he had gotten rid of you. Had he grown tired of you, bored? Had he moved on to someone else? Had he seen that there was something within you that he had irreparably broken that made you not worth using any more? Part of you worried about this so endlessly because if he was angry that you failed him, you needed to figure that out so you could prepare for him to return in one of his rages.

But another part of you, one that you could not bear to acknowledge, had grown used to making him and his comfort the center of your universe, and now felt lost without him. You wished that he had just kept you until you died.

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

First Argument

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x FashionEditor!Reader (ft. Joshua as a non biological brother)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Series

Note: reader is female

____________________________________

Your composure in facing of anger was something Joshua, your brother, often praised. Unlike many, you refrained from letting small grievances escalate into anger. Never had he ever witnessed you explode in a fit of rage. Your approach to dealing with emotions was one of open communication, preferring dialogue over displaying negativity. Your ability to address problems without an anger was truly admirable, a serene way of handling matters that didn't involve heated emotions.

Mingyu inquired about this trait when he asked your brother if you had ever displayed even a hint of anger. The response he anticipated was precisely what he received. However, a part of him secretly wished to Joshua has seen you express frustration at least once. Mingyu saw anger as an unspoken form of concern, a type of care that often went unnoticed. His sensitive nature often interpreted people's anger toward him as a concealed form of affection they struggled to overtly demonstrate.

Yet, he had never experienced your anger firsthand.

To be honest, it irked him slightly. At times, he questioned if you genuinely cared for him. Since you officially started dating, Mingyu frequently visited your apartment for dates, rest, or simply to check up on you. Over time, he had managed to break almost every plate and glass you had purchased when you initially moved in. Had you been angry? Not once. Your response had been, "It's alright. Could you help me clean this up?"

Admittedly, Mingyu was rather organized. He maintained a structured schedule, checking it regularly to cultivate independence, even though he had his personal manager to assist him. But world wasn't always on Kim Mingyu's side. Last year, he had forgotten to celebrate your anniversary. He hadn't even managed to call or text you. Texting was an afterthought, considering you were hardly ever near your phone. He had also neglected the fact that he was supposed to celebrate with you at your apartment, with dinner followed by a Netflix binge. Instead, he had spent the evening with Jungkook and Eunwoo, returning home around midnight only to find a text from you with a picture of the steak you had prepared for both of you. That had been the only message you had sent. As soon as he had seen it, he drove crazy to your place, only to discover you asleep on the couch, the untouched steaks still waiting.

"Are you here?" he heard you softy mumbled when he approached you, inadvertently rousing you from your slumber. "Have you eaten, Love?"

You had never grown angry or upset with him. Not once.

And yet, he couldn't grasp why this had become a concern for him.

The drive home after your monthly dinner with Mingyu's bandmates was marked by silence. You tended to be quiet unless you were in work mode or surrounded by a crowd. However, tonight your silence seemed more pronounced than usual. Mingyu cherished being the sole witness to your bubbly and talkative side. The way you would pout your lips when a snack you had requested ran out or how you would explain your hardness of choosing dinner menu in an almost nonsensical argument, "I'm just hungry and confused, so don't ask me more questions. Just give me food," never ceased to amuse him.

But tonight's drive was peculiar. A palpable unease seemed to hang in the air as you gazed out the window with your arms crossed.

"You're rather quiet," Mingyu ventured while steering the car.

You turned your head to face him momentarily before stating, "I'm always quiet," then shifted your attention back to the windowpane. Mingyu winced internally, realizing that his comment had been a mistake.

Though you seldom grew angry or upset with him, you did tend to grow quieter than usual when something was amiss. This silence would often persist for the entire day, and you would remain reticent about the issue. Mingyu had grown accustomed to your cycle of silent treatment, but it was beginning to irk him, particularly because you never offered an explanation for your behavior. You would transform into a different person, incredibly quiet, only to revert to your normal self later on. He didn't deny that he occasionally did the same—becoming subdued during rough days or when something troubled him. However, he would always talk to you about it afterward and apologize for his demeanor.

You, on the other hand, followed a different pattern. You never apologized; instead, you would simply end your quiet spell and begin talking as if nothing had happened. It was as if you hadn't ignored him for an extended period.

Mingyu's thoughts were a whirlwind as he grappled with the question of whether he could accept this behavior long-term. Your relationship was almost two years strong, and he wondered if he could tolerate your recurrent silence in response to issues. Would he continue to be content with the way you addressed problems? The question lingered in his mind, its significance growing with each passing moment.

As you finally reached your destination, the two of you remained seated in the car. A question left Mingyu's lips in a mumbled whisper, barely audible. You turned to catch his words, your ears attuned to his voice. The question that you feared most hung in the air, poised to disrupt the fragile equilibrium between you.

"Do you love me?"

Gazing out of the window pane, you avoided meeting his eyes, finding his shadow oddly captivating. You drew in a deep breath, grappling with the question that had been posed. Yet, you remained silent, unable to formulate an answer. His head turned towards you, the question resurfacing, this time laden with depth and gravity. Your insides churned, your nerves reacting to the very question you feared most in a relationship—a question you hoped never to encounter.

The response didn't come easily.

You glanced down at your fidgeting fingers, hearing Mingyu sigh before he unbuckled his seat belt and exited the car. In a direct line, he reached your door, his eyes fixated on your face, while you dared not meet his gaze. As you stepped out of the car, you opened the passenger seat door to retrieve your belongings from work, but Mingyu intervened, taking the initiative to retrieve the box for you.

"I can manage on my own," you mumbled, yet he adamantly refused to let you handle it.

The journey from the parking lot to your apartment felt interminable. Mingyu didn't want to exhibit his disappointment in your presence. However, your response to his question—the lack of response—weighed heavily on his mind. Kim Mingyu acknowledged that he seemed to be the one putting in the most effort in the relationship. He had initiated the first move, the first kiss, the first texts and calls, and he had confessed his feelings first. He didn't wish to paint the picture that you were treating shit towards him in this relationship, but he couldn't help but tally up the times he had made the first move. Your silence in the wake of his question seemed to magnify its significance.

"I'll take it from here. You should head home; you must be tired," you suggested in front of your door, reaching to retrieve the box of reports from your colleagues. Mingyu was unyielding, gesturing for you to open your door.

"Let's discuss it," he finally broke the silence after placing your belongings in your designated work place.

"Discuss what?" you inquired, your nerves betraying your anxiousness, although Mingyu didn't catch it.

Mingyu closed his eyes, "Alright, I understand. You don't love me," he concluded. "But what happened? What caused you to grow so quiet all of a sudden, right after leaving the restaurant?"

You drew in a deep breath, rolling up your sleeves as you readied yourself for the conversation. "I never said I don't love you," you mumbled, your voice soft. "And nothing happened; I'm just tired." You shrugged, attempting to downplay the situation.

Standing before you, Mingyu's gaze never wavered. "Then tell me, do you love me?" he pressed further.

A moment of silence hung in the air before you heaved a sigh, feeling the weight of his presence bearing down on you. Tears welled up, threatening to escape your eyes, your palms raised, rubbing your face as you wiped your tears away as discreetly as possible. The tears betrayed your struggle, and your breath caught in your throat as you struggled with a question that had been your bane. You covered your mouth shut, trying to hold back the tears. Your head shook almost involuntarily, an admission of your inability to answer. And you broke.

Mingyu was taken aback; it wasn't the first time he had seen you cry, but it was the first time he had witnessed tears fall because of him. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace as you cried against his chest. The disappointment he had felt earlier was nothing in comparison to the heartache that surged within him at the sight of your tears, tears that were shed because of him. Amidst your sobs, you muttered apologies and words of self-doubt. He offered gentle reassurance, patting your head while whispering, "It's okay."

Another realization dawned upon him—your love was quiet, just like you. In stark contrast, Mingyu was a loud person, expressing his love vociferously. This discrepancy had unknowingly created pressure within your relationship. He had failed to understand that your love works differently; it was not that your love was quiet, but rather he was the one who failed to truly hear it. Your "I love you" resonated through the moments you shared together, your "I Love you" is all efforts you made to accommodate his wishes, your "I Love You" was through the time you took to repair his favorite pants, your "I Love You" was through the elaborate meals you prepared when he was hungry and too lazy to cook. He hadn't realized that your "I love you" was also reflected in your decision not to return to Paris, as Mingyu struggled long distance relationship.

Amidst the tears, Mingyu cried with you, the realization dawning on him in the midst of your shared vulnerability. Your bodies trembled in tandem, both seeking solace in the embrace of the other. Whispering "I love you" repeatedly, he hoped his words somehow could reply all the unspoken sentiments conveyed through your quiet gestures. But he knew deep down that words could never fully encompass the extent of your love.

As the tears subsided and calmness prevailed, he murmured an apology, acknowledging his newfound understanding. He made a vow to better himself, to strive for a more profound comprehension of you.

"I need your help Y/n. I can't do this on my own," he confessed, holding you close.

"I need you to open up to me about your feelings, your thoughts about me—what you like and dislike. I want you to share your thoughts honestly, because I won't judge you. I'll still love you, even if you make a mistake. I can't read your mind, so I need you to communicate with me. Among all people, you can be completely honest with me. Forget about everyone else; you have me."

You nodded in response to his plea. The atmosphere between you two transformed as his lips pressed against your forehead and then tenderly to your lips. His kiss was a testament to the respect, love, trust, and dignity he held for you. Each kiss from him was always heartfelt, but this particular night, he poured all his feelings into it.

*

As you lay on the bed, you recounted a past incident. "While you were in the restroom, someone mentioned that you might be dating me because of your interest in fashion and my work in the fashion industry." You spoke in hushed tones, the memory weighing on your mind.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, and he demanded to know who had said it. Your reply was evasive, and he sighed in exasperation. "Of course, that wasn't the reason," he stated emphatically, his fingers tangling in your hair. Your gaze met his, his eyes filled with adoration for your beauty.

"I knew that wasn't true, but it bothered me that it lingered in my thoughts," you confessed softly.

At this, Mingyu sighed, his affectionate gaze never leaving your face. "Sometimes, I've wondered why you chose me. Why you would want someone who struggles to express emotions, someone who avoids talking about their problems." You alluded to your attachment avoidance tendencies that had unintentionally taken a toll on Mingyu's heart.

"Even though you tell me almost every day why you love me, it's still difficult to believe that someone would commit their life to... loving me," you admitted with a mixture of emotion, your voice remaining calm.

Mingyu's embrace tightened around you as he realized the depth of your insecurities. He began to articulate all the reasons why you were perfect for him, extolling your intelligence and pride. He described your personality traits that had endeared you to him, and he praised your presence and outward appearance that never failed to captivate him. He painted a vivid picture of you, nearly worshiping every facet of your being. That night, he worshipped you with an intensity of love that you hadn't always felt, but that he had recognized within you. It was love that you hadn't yet grown proficient at expressing, but he was there to bridge the gap.

Because he loved you profoundly, and he knew that you loved him just as deeply.

*

"Why don't you ever get angry at me?" Kim Mingyu posed the question as the two of you sat calmly, savoring the breakfast you had just prepared together in the kitchen.

"Why should I be angry at you?" You responded with a counter-question, genuinely curious.

He gave a nonchalant shrug, his expression marked with an "I don't know" look. "You never seem to get upset with me, even when I do things that are just a little bit dumb or even very stupid."

A soft laugh escaped your lips. "Do you want me to get angry? From my perspective, just because someone makes a mistake doesn't mean they deserve a fit of anger from others."

"Anger just fills my mind with regrets. Silence seems like a better option; it doesn't stress me out as much."

Mingyu nodded, pondering your words. "Is it because I'm used to people getting mad at me? Especially for my clumsiness?" He asked, leaning into the conversation.

You gave a casual shrug, your response a noncommittal "maybe."

Then, a warm smile played on your lips as you locked eyes with him. "But I don't think I could ever be mad at you. You're just too cute, and I love you too much."

Mingyu was caught off guard by your sudden bluntness, his face immediately hidden behind his palms as laughter bubbled forth uncontrollably. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he blushed, his cheeks turning as red as the tomato soup you had prepared for breakfast. He hadn't expected your straightforwardness to have such an effect on him.

"No, go back to your regular self. This version of y/n might be the death of me," Mingyu quipped, swiping away imaginary sweat with playful exaggeration. He couldn't believe the extent to which you had an impact on him.

As the morning sun cast its warm glow, you and Mingyu embarked on a new chapter, ready to pen another story with improved characters, closing the previous chapter behind and embracing a brighter future.

[senashenta]

Everything I Do

Title: Everything I Do

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Just. All the smut. All of it.

Summary: When Dean calls on Cas to meet up with him, even though it’s only been seven weeks since their last meeting, Cas agrees immediately, and books a bus to Lawrence, Kansas. But meeting Dean in Lawrence isn’t all burgers and sex, things are COMPLICATED for Dean in Lawrence. Always have been, probably always will be. Plus, he’s just coming off a positively DISASTROUS Hunt with his Dad. Over the weekend, Cas learns a little more about his boyfriend—and maybe Dean learns a little more about himself as well.

Notes: If you’re coming into this fic blind, it’s the FIFTH in a series, and I highly recommend you read the rest of them first. Just click on the “Horror High et al Master Post” link under the notes here and everything is listed in order. So much smut though. So much. (Especially in the one-shots.)

Literally ended up writing this just to include one specific scene that I WANTED to include in Cerulean Blue and ended up having to leave out. This one, like Cerulean Blue, has a plot (if you squint), so it’s not JUST about the smut, though there IS plenty of that. Also just, like, so many feels.

A BRIEF, SHINING MOMENT OF TOP!CAS AND BOTTOM!DEAN (that was REALLY weird for me to write) before we return to your regularly scheduled Top!Dean and Bottom!Cas. Is everyone happy now? :D;;

Cas is, again, taking a bus from Tallahassee to Lawrence, and teh google tells me that to drive that distance takes 16 hours and 16 minutes. So, adding on time for stops and transfers, I rounded it up to a 21-hour trip (give or take) for him. Sucks not being able to drive (this is coming from someone who, in fact, does NOT drive, so I know.)

Go listen to “(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” by Bryan Adams, if you never have. It’s a fantastic song and ABSOLUTELY embodies Cas and Dean’s relationship in this particular AU: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0pdQU87dc8 <3

HORROR HIGH et al TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

EVERYTHING I DO By Senashenta

[Motel 6, 6850 W. 108th Street, room 2.]

It was only seven weeks after their week together in New York City and the whole Sally debacle, and Cas was already coming off another twenty-one-hour bus ride, this time to Lawrence, Kansas, where Dean was waiting for him, apparently at an actual Motel 6 this time. He hauled his backpack off the bus with him and headed out to the front of the station to hail a cab, and soon he was on his way to the motel, exhausted from his long trip.

Not that Cas was complaining. It would be nice, to be seeing Dean so soon after their last meetup. Usually there was at least three, sometimes four months in-between, and the time always seemed to go by like molasses, even though they kept in touch over the phone and the computer in the meantime.

But something had seemed… different, this time around, when Dean had said he could take the time to meet Cas again so soon. Something in his voice had been off. There had been a sort of urgency there, for the last-minute meetup. When Cas had asked about it, Dean had brushed him off, but Cas knew something was wrong—maybe not anything huge or life-altering, but something.

When he got to the motel in question—a little run-down but not the absolute shittiest place they had ever met up—Cas made his way down the row of doors until he reached number two, then knocked lightly and waited for Dean to answer, hiking his backpack farther up his shoulder while he waited.

When the locks unlatched and the door opened, Dean just grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the room, then kicked the door closed behind him. Cas let his backpack slide to the ground even as Dean pushed him up against the door, kissed him once, briefly—and then just leaned into his chest, the older man’s forehead coming down to rest against his shoulder.

“I missed you, Cas.” Dean muttered.

Cas came back with a murmur of, “tell me what’s wrong, Dean.”

Dean sighed but didn’t lift his head, instead nuzzling closer into Cas’s neck, and Cas brought his arms up around the other man, just holding him quietly for what seemed like forever. “Nothing’s wrong when I’m with you.” Dean replied finally, voice quiet, “that’s the point.”

“Liar.” Cas accused softly, not unkind, and then shoved off the door, jostling Dean in the process, and tugged the other man over to the bed. He quickly stripped out of his trench coat and shoes and then climbed onto the mattress, motioning for Dean to join him. “Come here, Dean.” Dean made quick work of crawling over to sprawl next to him, and Cas pulled him into his chest, wrapping him up in his arms comfortably. “Much better, right?”

Dean just grunted quietly and buried his face in Cas’s neck once more, and the two of them stayed like that for a while, Cas rubbing along Dean’s arm while Dean slowly unwound a little.

Finally, when Dean seemed a little more relaxed, Cas murmured, “do you want to talk about it?”

Dean was quiet for another couple of minutes. Cas just continued stroking along his arm gently, reassuring. “Dad and I…” Dean began finally, then trailed off and pressed his forehead harder into Cas’s shoulder for a second; “we got a lead on the demon—the demon—up in Yakima, and I… I messed up, I…” He made a frustrated noise, then, and huffed by Cas’s neck, “we could have got it, Dad was sure we could have got it, but I fucked up and it got away. It got away because of me, and Dad just—”

Cas could guess that John had just, when it came to that particular demon. “That bad?”

“If we’d had a house, he would’ve kicked me out of it,” Dean said quietly, “he screamed and shouted and told me to get away from him, get lost until I got my head on straight, and so I bailed and—”

“And you called me?” Cas gave a little, brief smile. “Is that why you picked Lawrence, for us to meet up?”

“Lawrence is my home, Cas. Or the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.” Dean admitted.

“I understand.” Cas ducked to kiss by Dean’s temple gently, “what do you want out of this weekend, Dean?”

The older man was quiet for a while, and Cas just continued rubbing at his arm gently, trying to be reassuring. Eventually Dean shifted so his head was leaning properly against Cas’s shoulder. He slung an arm over Cas’s chest, the reverse of their usual positions, and sighed. “Just… be you, Cas. Remind me that I’m not completely worthless, that I’m not a terrible person, just for a couple of days.”

“Dean…” Cas’s hand stopped moving and he wrapped his arms around Dean tightly, holding him close. “Don’t ever think those things of yourself. You’re never worthless and you’re not a terrible person…” Trailing off slightly, he frowned and murmured, “I can’t believe your Dad would actually say those things to you…”

“He’s… hard on me. With good reason. I’m the eldest, and I can’t… make mistakes. Not like that. If I can’t do the job, I’m worthless. If I can’t finish the mission—the big mission—I’m a terrible person.” Dean sounded like he was actively parroting some of the things his dad had said to him. He turned his head to bury his face and mumbled, “I’ve never felt so useless, Cas…”

“Hey. Stop.” Cas slid one hand up to thread into Dean’s hair and tugged gently, “you are none of those things, Dean Winchester.”

Dean made a soft disagreeing noise and left his face buried in Cas’s chest but stopped talking. They were both quiet for a few breaths before Cas began carding his fingers through Dean’s hair gently.

“Dean you are… courageous and strong and fierce, like the heart of a lion. But you’re also loving, giving and caring. You’re the most caring person I know.” Cas hummed softly, considering before continuing; “you’re so gentle, and selfless, you take care of people over yourself. Me. Your Dad. Your brother. Complete strangers. You’re smart, cunning… and funny. You make me laugh all the time. And you’re… passionate, you carry so much passion in your heart, sometimes it’s overwhelming. You have so many fantastic qualities, Dean, I can’t even begin to list them all… but you are not and never will be worthless or useless or a terrible person.”

“Sometimes I don’t think I’m any of those things, Cas.”

“Trust me, you’re all of them and more.” Cas tugged at his hair gently again, pulling Dean’s head up and leaning in for a kiss. “But most of all, you love me. Somehow, for some reason, you love me.”

“For all the reasons.” Dean corrected him softly.

Cas gave him a smile and tipped his head for another kiss. “I love you, too. For all the reasons.” When Dean leaned into the kiss, Cas sighed and murmured, “I’ll always love you, Dean. Until the day I die.”

When they broke apart a moment later, Dean ducked his head back down against Cas’s chest and asked, barely audible, “hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas replied, back to petting through his hair.

And then, just as quietly; “I think I want you to make love to me.”

Cas’s hand paused in Dean’s hair. He swallowed slightly. The two of them had discussed switching things up between them briefly, once before, and Dean had been reluctant at best. Definitely uncomfortable with the idea. And while it was good that he was opening up his mind, Cas wasn’t entirely sure this was the right… time for it.

After a moment his hand began moving again, threading through Dean’s hair gently, and Cas cleared his throat before asking, “Dean, are you… sure about that?”

“You don’t want to?” Dean asked.

“I never said that.” It was just that Dean was obviously feeling… vulnerable, right now. And Cas didn’t want to take advantage of that, do anything that might break the absolute trust they had long ago established between them. Cas hesitated before offering, “Dean, it’s just… with how you’re feeling right now, I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret later.”

The arm Dean had slung over him tightened slightly and the older man paused, licking his lips and then telling him softly, embarrassedly, “I won’t regret anything with you, Cas. Not ever. I never do. And I think… I need this, right now. I need you to take control. Just for a bit. Get me out of my head.”

That Cas could understand. He knew exactly what it felt like to have every coherent thought vacate his brain while Dean worked him over. It could be a reprieve. An escape, when he was feeling particularly badly over something in his life. And how could he deny that to Dean when Dean had supplied it for him so many times in the past, knowingly or unknowingly?

After another moment of frowning up at the ceiling and toying with Dean’s hair absently, Cas finally moved—he disentangled himself from Dean and pushed the other man down onto his back, then propped himself up to lean over him and look at him seriously. “Are you sure about this?”

Dean offered a little quirk of a smile, though Cas could still see the shadows behind the green of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Cas hesitated for another brief moment—then just flashed a smile of his own and leaned down to kiss Dean, firm and decided. Dean seemed to let out a little relieved breath against Cas’s mouth before returning the kiss. He reached up with his hands, one to fist in the front of Cas’s shirt and the other to grab at the side of his neck—and Cas just eased closer, kissed him deeper.

Inside, Cas was freaking out. His nerves were making his stomach twist into knots, though he did his best not to let to show for Dean’s sake. But this was a big deal, and Cas had never done this before—not this part, anyway. He only had the basest of ideas what he was doing. It was almost like their first time all over again.

Which… under different circumstances, might have actually been a turn-on, but with Dean’s current state it just made Cas worry because what if he screwed it up? He really didn’t want to screw it up. He wanted to be good at it. But it would be his first time, and…

“I can almost literally see your thoughts, Cas, and you’re gonna do fine.” Dean spoke up, and Cas hadn’t even realized their kissing had paused, he’d been so distracted by his own spiralling train of thought. “But if you don’t want to do this, we obviously don’t have to.”

Cas let out a breath and nodded, then sat back a bit and pushed at Dean’s flannel shirt. “Take this off. The t-shirt, too.” Then he just reached to strip out of his own shirt, tossing it away with hands that were only trembling the slightest bit. When Dean sat up and pulled off his flannel overshirt, then his worn AC/DC t-shirt, Cas was momentarily distracted by a huge patch of dark, mottled bruising that marred almost the entire left side of Dean’s torso. “Dean…”

Dean lifted one hand to touch against the patch of bruising, knowing what he was going to say. “From… the thing in Yakima. I got off easy.”

“Easy?” Cas repeated, almost incredulous. He supposed there was no blood, but still. That was edging into internal injury territory. Instead of saying any of that, Cas swallowed slightly and carefully pushed Dean down onto his back again, settling over him and leaning to kiss him deeply. When they broke apart a moment later, he pressed another brief kiss to Dean’s lips and whispered, “be right back.”

Then Cas climbed off the bed and went to his discarded backpack, unzipping one of the front pouches and fishing out the lubricant he had packed. He knew Dean always brought some as well, but he didn’t know where it was, and this was just easier. Once it was firmly in his grasp, he returned to the bed—only to find that Dean had taken the initiative to get out of his pants and boxers in Cas’s absence.

Cas’s eyes swept up the length of Dean’s body and he swallowed slightly before dropping the lube on the mattress and shucking out of his own jeans and boxers as well. And it was the same feeling as their first time, years ago, when Cas climbed back onto the bed with Dean: suddenly it was all very real.

Now, Cas settled over his boyfriend again, ducking in for another few kisses, long and deep and drawn-out, before breaking away and beginning to trail little kisses, nips and licks down Dean’s neck, along his collar bone, across his chest… and he paused when he got to the mottled bruising along his side and ribs, making a special point of pressing gentle kisses all along the area.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmured softly.

“You didn’t do it.” Dean replied, just as quiet, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

Cas hummed out a soft disagreeing sound, but left it at that, continuing to make his way downward, paused to lick into Dean’s navel and smiled a little when the other man squirmed. Then he eased farther down until he could wrap his lips around the head of Dean’s half-hard cock and start sucking, softly at first, then deeper, harder and wetter as his boyfriend’s dick hardened up properly in his mouth.

Dean moaned quietly, his head back on the pillow now and one hand down, fingers threading into Cas’s hair. But still—“Cas… not that I’m complaining, but this wasn’t… ah… exactly the point, here…”

“Mmhm,” Cas hummed out an agreement and pulled off Dean’s cock, letting a hand come up to start stroking him instead. He looked up at Dean with a little smile. “But you’re still tense. You need to relax more before I…” Blue eyes flitted to where the lube was sitting, beside them on the bed. “Trust me, you don’t want to be clenched up for that part.” A pause, then, and he added, “and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, just like you never want to hurt me.”

Dean huffed a groan, hips bucking lightly, and admitted, “that’s a good point.”

Another quiet agreeing sound and Cas just went back to what he was doing, sucking Dean back into his mouth and easing deep, beginning to suck him off lazily, not really trying to get him to come, just trying to get him to relax into it—and it worked. After a few minutes Dean was loose and relaxed against the bed, shifting under his ministrations and offering up quiet, breathy little moans every now and then.

Finally, Cas pulled back off with a soft wet sound and smiled up at him. “You think you’re ready now?”

Dean sighed out another soft moan and tugged at Cas’s hair gently. “Y… yeah, I’m good.”

Okay then. Cas grabbed the tube of lubricant, then nudged at Dean’s legs until he got them into the easiest position to prep him. And yeah, suddenly the nerves were back. Cas shifted slightly and swallowed thickly against the twisting ball of anxiety in his stomach even as he slicked up the fingers of his right hand and then discarded the lube to the side again.

When he hesitated a little too long, then, Dean prodded him gently with simply, “Cas.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ve just never… done this before.”

“Sure, you have.”

“Not from this side of things.” Cas protested softly, but he was already reaching to touch against Dean’s entrance with one finger, just lightly. He looked up quickly for a reaction, but Dean just twitched slightly and didn’t tell him to stop, so he carried on, carefully, slowly pushing his index finger into Dean’s body.

Dean hissed and shifted his hips, obviously uncomfortable but unwilling to admit as much. But Cas knew from personal experience—albeit personal experience in the relatively distant past—that the first time was awkward and weird—at least until the prostate came into play. So, he tried to work through the stretching with the first finger as quickly as possible before gently, carefully introducing the second—and when Dean gave a pained grunt at that, Cas murmured an apology but didn’t stop.

Halfway through stretching Dean with two fingers, when he was pushed as deep as possible for the first time, Cas accidentally bumped into his sweet spot and Dean came alive like a livewire, jolting and crying out loudly. Cas just smiled widely and rubbed his fingers firmly over that spot for a long, drawn-out couple of moments, until Dean was practically begging him to stop.

So, he did, pulling back long enough to add the third finger and going back to fucking Dean on them, though not specifically targeting his prostate now, instead just bumping against it here-and-there while he continued to stretch the other man out.

Soon Dean was reduced to a jerking, twitching mess, gasping out curses every time Cas’s fingers collided with his sweet spot and pulling at the blankets desperately, his cock swollen and throbbing, red and leaking precome against his stomach in sticky blurts. He was absolutely wrecked—and Cas had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

Still fucking Dean on his fingers, Cas ducked down to lick up the underside of his cock, then across the head and into the steadily growing puddle of precome… and Dean gave an almost protesting shout at that, shaking his head against the pillow, hips jolting and bucking at the touch: “stop…! Stop, Cas, you’ve gotta… or I’m gonna… fuck…! Oh, fuck, fuck, please…!”

Cas paused, glancing up at Dean, licking his lips absently, and after a moment, finally pulled his fingers out of the older man, then crawled up and settled over him, his own hips pressed against Dean’s firmly. Looking down at him, he swallowed and offered the same deal Dean had offered him the very first time they had had sex: “last chance to back out.”

But Dean quickly shook his head, and Cas flashed a brief smile, ducking to kiss him even as he adjusted them both and took a breath—then carefully, gently, maybe a little awkwardly, pushed his own cock into Dean’s now-pliant body, sinking deep in one slow thrust.

And oh, shit, that was…

They were both still for a long moment, almost holding their breaths, and then there was a collective exhale and Cas leaned to kiss Dean again, partly to distract himself because the feeling of being inside the other man was almost too much. It was hot and tight and slick in all the best ways possible—and he could only imagine how it felt for Dean right then. It was pleasure in a totally different kind of way than he was used to, and if he didn’t distract himself somehow, he was going to ruin this and come way too soon.

But also, he was vaguely worried about Dean, who so far was silent. Did it feel good for him, too? Was he in pain and trying to hide it? Dean could be so stoic sometimes, had been raised to be that way, so God only knew. Eventually Cas broke off from kissing his boyfriend to duck his head and bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and groaned out softly, “Dean…?”

“Fucking…” Dean’s reply, when it came, was harsh, his voice strained, with a high little pitch to the edge of his words; “move, Cas. Fucking move, before I explode…!” And it was at that point that Dean released the blankets and brought his arms up around Cas, fingers digging into his back lightly, and rocked his hips just the slightest bit, biting back a gasp at the movement. “Cas!”

Cas began to move. He adjusted himself so he could brace on his knees a little and carefully pulled out of Dean, muffling another groan into his neck, then pushed back in again with another muffled sound—almost a curse. It took a little bit, for him to get the rhythm down, the pace, but eventually he was fucking into Dean deep and hot and slow and perfect—and Dean was arching and writhing under him, head back and moaning loudly, fingers digging hard into his back.

And Cas was pretty sure he had managed to find the right angle—that perfect angle—that made the head of his cock slam into Dean’s sweet spot on every thrust into him, because every time he pushed deep Dean’s cries raised a pitch and his nose scrunched up just a little.

He let his own abdomen rub heatedly against Dean’s weeping cock for the longest time before Cas eased back slightly and slid a hand in between them to grasp at it, beginning to jerk the older man off along with his rhythm. And it was a bit difficult, maybe, coordinating the two things, but he managed it—and Dean arched back with a sharp cry the instant Cas’s hand wrapped around his dick.

It all went downhill very quickly after that. Just a few more breaths of thrusting against Dean’s prostate and jerking him off at the same time and Dean was coming, head back and moaning desperately. Cas stroked him off through it until he was done, then let go and focused on taking a couple more, sharper thrusts—then just pulled out entirely and lifted up on his knees, quickly jerking himself off until he came with a groan, pearly cum spurting all across Dean’s heaving abdomen and chest.

Then he sat back on his heels, panting for a moment, before crawling up to lick up the mess from Dean’s skin, long, hot swipes of his tongue, cleaning up both his own come and Dean’s.

“You didn’t have to… oh, fuck…” Dean had one hand up against his forehead and ran his fingers through his own hair, eyes on the ceiling for the moment, pupils still absolutely blown, as he panted for air; “you could’ve come inside me.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed as he finished tidying up the last of the come from Dean’s skin. He swallowed thickly and licked his lips, then crawled up to tuck into Dean’s side comfortably, “but I didn’t know if you wanted me to… so I figured better safe than sorry. Right?”

After a brief pause, Dean dropped his arm and wrapped it around Cas, holding him close. He licked his own lips and managed, “my legs feel tingly.”

Cas laughed and leaned in to kiss by his jaw gently. “You liked it, then?”

“Did I—” Dean began, then broke off and made an incredulous noise. “Of course I—it felt—fuck, Cas you weren’t kidding about the prostate thing!” A huffed breath and he tilted his head to kiss against Cas’s temple, just warm and affectionate and grateful. “I can’t… imagine… having a better first time at that with anyone else. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cas murmured softly, then, “I was so worried I was going to screw it up, though. That’s not the kind of thing you want to have a shitty first time with. And I was really afraid I’d mess up and it would be terrible, or I’d hurt you in some way, God forbid, so…”

Dean smiled a little. “So, you didn’t have as good a time as I did, is what I’m hearing.”

“What? No! That’s not—” Cas quickly shook his head, and when Dean began to chuckle, he swatted at him gently. “Shut up. It felt amazing. You felt amazing. But it was very different from what I’m used to. A radically different kind of pleasure, you know? Or, I mean, I guess you really do know.”

“Mmhm,” Came Dean’s reply, sounding a little sleepy now. He settled further into the pillows and his arm around Cas tightened the slightest bit. “It’s very different, being on the other side of things…”

“Think you’ll want to do it again some time?”

“Maybe… maybe if I’m having another day like today, and I just need to get out of my own thoughts. Not that I didn’t love it, I just think… we might fit together better the other way.” Dean shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling Cas into his chest. Cas smiled fondly, understanding the tired look on his face. Between the emotional release and the physical one, it was a lot. “You mind if I just have a nap, real quick?”

Cas shook his head and ducked in for a quick kiss. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“G’night, Cas. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”

-- --

Cas had been determined to stay awake and watch over Dean while he slept, but in the end their little experiment caught up to him and he fell asleep as well, warm and comfortable wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms. When he woke some time later the blankets were pulled up over him, but Dean was gone—where to, he had no idea. Dean had never been great at the concept of leaving notes.

So, Cas climbed out of bed, cleaned himself up, got dressed, and poked around the motel room until he located some bottles of water in the mini fridge. He made a little victory noise and was just cracking one open when Dean came back in through the door, Starbucks tray in his hand and the faintest hitch in his step. Cas smiled fondly at that last bit.

“Coffee?” Dean offered, crossing over and plucking one of the cups from the tray to hold it out for Cas to take. The younger man happily abandoned the water in lieu of caffeine. Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas was busy opening his coffee and taking the first, blessed sip, but once he was done with that, he let his eyes flit over Dean’s form and asked, “how are you… feeling? Still okay?”

Dean hesitated before giving him a fond look—and then glancing down, almost embarrassed. He was picking at the lid of his own cup of coffee but had yet to open it. “I feel good, Cas, really. I feel…” He trailed off, searching for the right word before looking up again and smiling gently. “Lighter. I guess. It really helped. So, thank you, for… you know.”

“For taking your virginity?” Cas asked around the lip of his cup, tone amused.

A little cough. Dean flushed, just the faintest tint of red, and turned his attention to finally opening his coffee. “Yeah. That.”

If Dean was going to be bashful about the subject, that was fine, Cas decided. Other than the faint embarrassment, he seemed to be alright. He seemed to be feeling better. Said he was, anyway, so maybe he really did just need to get out of his own head for a little bit, and if Cas had managed to provide that for him then… it was good. It was all good.

Cas headed over to the little two-seater couch next to the bed, sat down, took another drink of his coffee and asked, “so, other than the obvious, what did you want to do while we’re in town?”

Dean considered for a moment before wandering over to join him, sitting pressed close against his side, “I know this is my hometown, but I don’t really know much about it. I mean for what things there are to do, that kind of thing. Dad brought us back here a couple of times when we were younger, but he was on business, and we just stayed in the motel the whole time…” And he was talking about all this with ease now, so he must have been feeling better. Cas smiled into his coffee as Dean continued; “so I don’t really know what I’d like to do, except maybe…”

When Dean trailed off, Cas tilted his head curiously. “Except maybe?”

“Maybe… go by the old house? Just to have a look at it. I haven’t been back since the night of the fire.” Dean finished before shrugging and adding, “other than that… I’d be perfectly happy to just stay locked up in here with you until you have to leave. Monday morning?”

“Mm.” Cas hummed an agreement around a mouthful of coffee, then gave him a smile, “my bus leaves at eight.”

“In the morning or night?” Dean asked.

“That’s wishful thinking.” The younger man accused fondly, “of course in the morning.”

Dean sighed and turned his attention to his coffee, taking a couple of drinks before returning to picking at the lid and managing, just softly, “I’m… sorry. For calling you here, like this, last minute. And then being so… blegh, when you got here. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Dean. Dean, look at me.” Cas waited for Dean to look up again, then shook his head and told the older man firmly, “I will drop everything, any time, if you need me. All you have to do is ask. I would do anything for you, you know that. And if it means getting to spend some time with you in the process, all the better, even if you are being… blegh.” When Dean just blinked at him, Cas hesitated, expression softening, before asking gently, “do you want to really talk about it, now? What happened in Yakima? If you don’t, that’s fine, I’m just offering to listen, that’s all…”

There was clear hesitation from Dean for a long moment before he broke eye contact again and went back to picking at the lid of his coffee cup. “Dad’s been… tracking this demon for a long time. Ever since Mom died.” He began, voice soft, “but you know that, I already told you all about it…”

And he had—years ago, at this point, the entire sordid story about the demon and the fire in Sam’s nursery and his mother dying—about his dad’s single-minded quest to track the thing down and kill it. About how his dad had gone out and taught himself to be a Hunter, driven by revenge alone, at first, and then a kind of twisted sense of justice. The same sense of justice he had tried to instill in his sons—and had basically managed to in Dean.

John Winchester wasn’t a bad man, Cas was sure of that, but he was a broken man, and that could sometimes be worse, more dangerous. He was a hell of a Hunter because of it, though.

“Anyway,” Dean continued after a pause, “we got intel that it was going to be in Washington, doing another nursery thing. So, we high-tailed it up to Yakima to set a trap for it. Dad made Sammy stay back in the motel this time, which, I mean, you know Sammy, he was pissed, and Dad and I went in alone. But the instant the demon showed up, it spotted me and I—”

“You?” Cas encouraged softly.

“I fucking—I froze.” One hand came up to run through his hair and Dean shook his head, expression distant as he thought about that moment. Cas reached to rest a hand against his leg, squeezing gently. “I froze, and by the time I got myself moving again the thing had torn through the entire house. Both the parents were dead. Dad and I were both beaten to shit. The place was on fire, and all I could do was grab the baby and make a break for it.”

“Dean…”

“No, I—I royally fucked up, Cas. I got people killed. I’m lucky Dad didn’t—or that baby? How would I have lived with myself if—” Breaking off again, Dean palmed over his face and sucked in a deep breath. “There were already sirens heading our way, so we left the baby on the front lawn and booked it out of there. As soon as we hit the car, Dad started tearing a strip off me, and—well—it just went downhill from there. And here we are.”

“He literally kicked you out?”

“When we got back to the motel, he made me pack my shit and leave. I don’t—I guess I wait until he calls me. He’ll calm down eventually, he always does, but this time… it was the demon, Cas, and I fucked everything up and…”

“Dean, you can’t put all that on yourself.” Cas told him quietly, still squeezing his leg gently, “you’re human. You know how people say there are two danger responses, fight or flight? Well, there are actually three: fight, flight or freeze. This demon you’ve been Hunting for your whole life is like… the Big Bad, the top of the food chain, right? And have you ever actually come face-to-face with it before?”

Dean shifted slightly. “No. We always get close but miss it by a hair.”

“Okay, so you came up against the Alpha Predator for the first time and your body, your brain, instinctively chose the freeze response.” Cas reasoned, “which, admittedly, isn’t ideal, but think about your whole Hunting career so far, has it ever happened before?”

A short nod. “A few times, when I was younger.”

Cas smiled softly and when Dean turned to look at him properly, he leaned to bump his forehead into the older man’s. “Listen, most people would go up against a—a wendigo or a black dog or—or a ghost and absolutely lose their shit. It’s normal to be scared sometimes, especially in your line of work. You just—you learn from it, and you do better next time, right? It’s terrible that those people died, but you can’t blame yourself for being human, Dean. Even if your Dad apparently does.”

Dean closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads tighter together for a moment before easing back again, returning his gaze to his coffee. “This is why I called you.” He told Cas, “because when I get wound up, you bring me down. And when I get broken down, you build me back up.”

“I try to, anyway.” Cas agreed. “Do you feel better now, even a little bit?”

A huffed sigh and Dean nodded, “yeah. I’ll be okay. Just gotta wait for Dad to call me back in, I guess. For now, I’ll stay here. You sure you can’t just… stay indefinitely?”

Cas laughed at that and returned to his coffee, taking another drink. “I have to take off classes and work for our little vacations together. I don’t think it’d fly if I called the university or the Gas-n-Sip and told them I wasn’t coming back ‘indefinitely’. But especially work, my manager is not an easygoing person. I’m surprised she lets me take these days off in the first place. She really rides me.”

Dean offered a little, but genuine, smile at that and joked, “maybe she has a thing for you.”

Cas paused halfway to another drink of coffee, stared off into the middle-distance for a long moment, then gave a little shudder and shook his head emphatically. “I choose not to think about that possibility.”

“Dude, you’re young, you’re virile, you’re super attractive. That ticks off all the boxes!” Dean gave an actual laugh, “I’m just saying, if you want to sleep your way up the ladder, do it now while you’re in your prime and hot!”

“Dean.” Dean continued snickering to himself while Cas leveled him with a flat look. “Dean, are you telling me to go out and have sex with other people because I was under the impression we were pretty exclusive.”

Dean just grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. “We are absolutely exclusive,” He murmured against Cas’s lips, and Cas smiled despite himself, “no one else for me but you.”

“Same.” Cas agreed and kissed him again with a grin.

-- --

They spent the rest of the day in the motel room, just spending time together, doing a lot of cuddling, watching TV, talking about anything and everything, and of course having sex—with Dean on top, the way they usually did it, though when they were done and had caught their breath, they had a surprisingly in-depth conversation about the differences between topping and bottoming. It was only mildly embarrassing at times.

And Dean really did seem to be feeling better about things. He was acting more like himself, though there was still a hint of that shadow behind the green of his eyes—but it was fading more and more the longer Cas was with him. He was laughing and joking again and wasn’t positively despondent anymore. It was good.

That night they ordered burgers for delivery, though Cas gave a token complaint because always with the burgers and Dean promised they could get something else the following night. Dean’s love affair with burgers was nearly as strong as his love affair with pie, and Cas was starting to see why Sam had been so sick of them after years on the road with Dean and his dad. Sometimes Cas thought Dean would happily live on burgers and pie alone.

Well, maybe burgers and pie and Cas.

When they went to bed that night, though, they both climbed in and got under the covers—and Dean arranged them so that he was the one cuddled into Cas’s side, rather than the other way around. Cas just hummed out a soft, affectionate sound and wrapped his arms around the older man, even as Dean reached over his shoulder to turn off the lamp. If Dean needed that little bit of extra comfort, still, Cas wasn’t going to deny it to him.

The night passed uneventfully, and the next morning Cas woke up with Dean spooned against his back, one arm slung over his waist. They had shifted back to normal overnight. Cas sighed softly and pressed himself back against Dean, enjoying the rise and fall of his chest, his warm breath against the back of his neck. Cas stayed like that, just enjoying the moment, the closeness, for a while, until he finally had to carefully extract himself and head through to the bathroom.

By the time he was finished in there and came back out, Dean was sitting up on the side of the bed, yawning hugely and rubbing at his hair. Cas wandered over to leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of his head, lips quirking into a smile when Dean hummed a pleased noise in response. “Good morning.”

“…is it morning? What time…?” Dean muttered around another yawn.

Cas glanced at the clock. “Almost noon but technically still morning.” He informed his boyfriend, even as he lowered himself to sit beside Dean on the edge of the bed. “Do you still want to go to the house today?”

“Ask me again after coffee.” Dean told him, ducking in to kiss by Cas’s jaw. “Shower, clothes, coffee, food. Then we talk about plants for the day.”

A chuckle and Cas just stood again, then reached to take hold of Dean’s hand and tugged him up off the bed, turning to head for the bathroom once more. Certainly, the two of them always took longer when they showered together, but hey, maybe this time they would be able to keep their hands to themselves. Cas seriously doubted it, but stranger things had happened, right?

“This is gonna be one of those forty-five-minute showers, isn’t it?” Dean asked with a little smirk.

“Not necessarily.” Cas replied with a shrug.

Nearly forty minutes later they had run out of hot water but were both extremely satisfied with how the morning was going so far. They climbed out of the chilly shower pleased, relaxed, and sporting goosebumps from the last minute or two of cleaning up. They both dried off quickly, then hurried through to the main room where they pulled on their clothes and finally started to warm up again. Cas made a mental note not to draw out the blowjob quite so long next time, considering the constraints of the water heater. Dean was privately making a similar promise, while simultaneously making a completely contradictory vow to take the lube with them next time so they could have real shower sex.

Being clean, dry and dressed, next came the acquisition of food and coffee. For that they went to a diner down the street (apparently it had been recommended to Dean when he checked in) where they took over a booth along the back wall and were very swiftly served up with two mugs of pretty decent coffee. Dean started drinking right away, but Cas of course doctored his with cream and sugar before taking his first sip.

It turned out to be an all-day-breakfast kind of joint, and Dean ordered the whole shebang: pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, bacon and toast. Also, another cup of coffee. Cas was amazed, once again, that he could put away so much food all at once. As for himself, he ordered an omelette with a side of toast—a reasonable breakfast. Dean practically booed him. Cas just laughed.

The coffee was decent but the food, when it arrived, was excellent. They both ate with enthusiasm—Dean more so than Cas, as usual—and Cas actually called the waitress back over to somewhat sheepishly order a side of bacon when he saw how good Dean’s looked. He would have just stolen a piece from his boyfriend, but he rather liked his fingers intact, as a point of fact.

When they were finished eating—and Dean finished every last bite of his positively enormous meal, thank you very much—Dean paid the tab and left a hefty tip, and the two of them made their exit back out the door.

They walked together, after that, just side by side down the streets and roads of Lawrence, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking quietly between themselves about anything—everything. It was always like that between them, warm and easy. Or, at least, almost always. They did have their occasional difficult moments, of course.

When they turned a corner and Dean suddenly grabbed for his hand, Cas knew they were on the same street that his childhood house stood on. He just threaded their fingers together and squeezed gently, reassuring, and even though his steps faltered slightly, Dean kept on walking.

Dean tugged him to a stop when they got to the right house and both of them turned to face it. Dean’s hand tightened in Cas’s, and he took a slightly shaky breath. “I haven’t been back here since… you know. That night. Whenever Dad brought us into Lawrence, he made us stay in the motel.”

Cas looked at the house in front of them and thought it seemed totally ordinary. It was nice, the way it was now. Rebuilt after the fire. “You told me once you carried Sam out of the house that night, do you remember anything else?”

“Just… Dad yelling, and the fire.” Dean told him solemnly, “the flames were so damned hot. I wasn’t even really close to them, and I could still feel them. Fire burns so bright, and so hot. That’s why I told you, way back when… I don’t have nightmares all the time like you do, but when I do have them, they’re usually of fire. I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

Cas just took a little step over to be closer against Dean’s side and squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry.”

Dean just hummed dismissively, eyes still on the house. His childhood memories were vague, he’d been very young when he’d lived there, but he could tell it was different, in subtle ways. The size of the front windows. The color of the front door. The fabric of the curtains inside the living room. The cutting back of the tree in the front yard. Just little things that kind of skewed his memory, blurred it even more in a way.

And then it started raining.

Cas and Dean both looked up at the sky almost blankly because they still had to walk all the way back to the motel, damnit.

But then another voice piped up from beside Dean with, “I just knew I was going to need this today!”

Both men’s heads swivelled. A pleasant looking African American woman was standing next to them, holding an umbrella over her head—and holding another umbrella out in their direction with a friendly smile.

“Uh.” Cas said articulately, even as Dean just reached out to take the offered umbrella—black with little silver stars—almost on autopilot, a suspicious look on his face the entire time. The woman watched him open it up and hold it over them (but mostly over Cas), looking pleased. Cas glanced up at the umbrella over him and then back at the woman. “Thanks.”

“Oooh, honey,” She drawled as she looked at Cas, her eyes narrowing into a squint, “you do shine brightly, don’t you?”

“I—” Cas began.

But Dean interrupted with, “I’m sorry, do we know you?”

“Don’t be rude, Dean Winchester.” She gave him a little verbal slap and then returned her attention to Cas, even as she continued to address Dean; “but no, you don’t know me. Not yet anyway. I know your father, though. He and I go way back. You can call me Missouri.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times and then he managed to ask, “you know my Dad?”

“I do indeed.” Missouri agreed, then turned to face the house with a little smile. “I keep an eye on this place for him, look in on it from time to time. Today I just knew I had to stop by, and now I see why.” She glanced at them again, then smacked a hand into Dean’s arm and added, “Dean, introduce me to your boyfriend, already.”

Dean jumped slightly and looked sideways at Cas, then back at Missouri. “Uh… this is Cas.”

Cas leaned around Dean to wave his free hand slightly. “Hello.”

“Cas… Castiel.” Missouri said his whole name without even having been told it, and squinted slightly again before blinking as if she were coming to a sudden realization. Her eyes flickered up to the space above Cas’s head just briefly, then she flashed another smile. “Oh, dear, I must remember not to look too deeply with you, musn’t I?” Then she addressed Dean again with, “you’ve got a good one, here, boy. Hold onto him as long as you can.”

“I plan to.” Dean informed her, still obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

Cas just looked up above his own head, but all he saw was empty air and the umbrella. Missouri gave him an almost fond look. “You absolute dear, you don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?” Cas asked.

Dean looked at her with curiosity that bordered on suspicion.

But Missouri just shook her head and turned her attention back to the house. “Never you mind, boys. It’s nothing important. You go on your way, now. There’s nothing here but ghosts and memories. And you take care of each other, you hear me? Have faith. It’ll be important.”

Then she turned around and disappeared down the street, leaving them to stare after her, the rain still pouring all around them. She didn’t even take back her umbrella.

“She was a psychic, right?” Cas asked after a moment.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean responded with a shake of his head. He still didn’t particularly trust most “psychics” and doubted that he ever would. Missouri had felt… different, though. “I’m pretty sure she was a psychic.”

-- --

The meandering walk back to the motel was a lot soggier than the walk to the house had been originally, but they did have the umbrella Missouri had left them with, so they just squeezed together to fit under it, and it kept them relatively dry. Relatively being the key word. When they walked in the door of their motel room they still immediately set to getting changed into dry clothes.

“I guess we co-own an umbrella now,” Dean commented once they were changed. He turned on the clock radio for some music and came up behind Cas, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist. “What should we name it?”

Cas laughed and leaned back into him—but when Dean nuzzled into his neck, he flapped his hands and reached up to push him away, laughing, “off. You’re way too stubbly for that right now. You need to shave.”

Dean grinned and rubbed his jaw along Cas’s cheek anyway. “Are you gonna say no sex until I shave? Is that where this is going?”

“Basically,” Cas laughed again and squirmed around in Dean’s arms so he could plant his hands against the older man’s chest and push him back. Then he pointed toward the bathroom. “Go.”

Chortling to himself, Dean held his hands up in a placating manner and backed away a couple of steps, then moved closer again to duck in for a quick kiss before crossing the room and digging through his duffle bag for his shaving kit. Once he had it in hand, he headed for the bathroom, leaving Cas to entertain himself while he shaved.

“You know,” Dean called out from the bathroom a minute later as he worked on getting the shaving cream lathered up and applied, “when I was first learning how to shave, my Dad taught me three ways: regular razor, straight razor, and hunting knife.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Cas wandered over to stand in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching Dean work with a little smile on his face. This wasn’t the first time he’d watched Dean shave, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“It’s funny,” Dean glanced at him in the mirror briefly before picking up his razor and getting to work, “in all the time we’ve been together I’ve only seen you shave a couple of times.”

“Mine doesn’t grow in as fast as yours.” Cas shrugged, “and I get right on it as soon as it gets past where it is now, it gets really scruffy and scraggly. Not very good looking.”

“C’mon, I’m sure you could work it.” The older man teased.

Cas just rolled his eyes and, when Dean was finished, stepped over to pick up the towel. “Look at me.” And when Dean turned to face him, Cas quickly wiped up the last bits of shaving cream with a smile, then reached to run a hand down one of Dean’s cheeks. “Much better.”

Dean tipped his head to kiss against Cas’s palm before turning back around and setting about actually washing the shaving cream residue off his face, then drying himself off with a clean towel and rinsing his razor clean. He tucked everything back into his shaving kit even as Cas tossed the dirty towel over the side of the sink and headed back out into the main room.

The clock radio was still playing, the same classic rock station Dean had picked out earlier, and Cas made his way over to grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge before leaning back against the counter and opening it, taking a sip. When Dean emerged from the bathroom, fresh shaven but somehow still sporting a little bit of stubble, Cas gave him a fond look.

Coming across to where Cas was standing, Dean stopped in front of him and leaned his hands on the counter on either side of the younger man—then leaned in for a kiss. Cas smiled and kissed back with a pleased hum. “Mmm, you smell nice.”

“It’s just the shaving cream, nothing special.” Dean murmured against Cas’s lips and went in for another kiss—then paused when the song on the radio ended and a new one started. Cas barely noticed, but Dean shifted back a little and took the bottle of water from his grasp, setting it on the counter. He took one of Cas’s hands and tugged him toward the center of the room. “C’mere…”

Cas looked at him, tilting his head curiously. “Dean?”

“Listen. Do you know this song at all?” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist and Cas automatically lifted his own to slide over Dean’s shoulders and around his neck. Dean smiled softly and leaned their foreheads together lightly, then began roughly singing along with the music: “don’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for. You know it’s true. Everything I do, I do it for you… for you…”

When Cas felt himself being rocked back and forth on his feet, just slightly, he suddenly realized what was going on. “Dean, are we dancing right now?” He asked quietly, incredulous. He actually had to take a second because this was probably the last thing he would ever have expected from his boyfriend.

“Just shut up and move your feet.” Dean instructed. “Have you danced with someone before?”

“I—yeah, once, in sixth grade. The teacher made the girl dance with me, and it was obvious. It was humiliating.” Cas muttered, looking down at his own feet, trying to get them to move in some sort of proper order. He was kind of just shuffling instead. He frowned at his own incompetence. “Dean, I—I don’t know how to—”

“Relax. Breathe.” Dean murmured with a smile, “you obviously weren’t thrilled with dancing with that girl, but this is me. You know I won’t care if you’re awkward. That girl in elementary school didn’t count, okay? And I’m not her. I want to dance with you.” He tightened his arms around Cas just slightly before adding, “all you have to do is kind of… step back and forth in time with the music. Just move with me.”

“Usually when you say that we’re about to have sex.” Cas complained, but licked his lips absently and carefully eased his steps into a relatively decent rhythm with Dean’s. The song continued to play, and from what he was hearing it was nice. Finally, Cas hesitated before leaning his head down on Dean’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d like a song like this.” He admitted.

“Mmm…” The older man hummed out a pleased sound when Cas’s head came down on his shoulder, and he continued the slow dance they were sharing, closing his eyes to listen to the music and feel Cas in his arms. “Power ballads are okay occasionally and Bryan Adams is allowed sometimes. Everything I Do is iconic, and the lyrics…” Trailing off a little, he sighed softly and finished; “they make me think of you. Of us.”

“Did you pick a song for us without even consulting me?” Cas joked softly.

Dean laughed, just a quiet rumble from his chest. “Maybe.”

Cas didn’t really mind. It was a nice song and from the few lyrics he had managed to pick up on, Dean was probably right. It fit them. Cas privately thought he would look up the song online later. “I’m not even mad.” He admitted, “I just never thought about us having a song, that’s all.”

Dean didn’t reply to that, just falling silent as they continued to dance in a slow circle in the middle of the room. Cas finally closed his own eyes and, while keeping one arm wrapped around Dean’s neck, brought the other hand down to rest against his chest, feeling out his boyfriend’s heartbeat as the music continued.

It was… pleasant, once he relaxed into it. Warm and affectionate, a new kind of intimacy. A little smile tugged at Cas’s lips, and he pressed a gentle kiss against the side of Dean’s neck, making Dean hum out another happy noise. This was nothing like the awkward dance he had been forced to share with that unhappy girl back in sixth grade. This was… love, encompassed by a single action. He almost wished it wouldn’t end.

Unfortunately, the song was only about six minutes long and was followed by a much harsher, jarring one. Dean gently slowed them to a stop but kept his arms around Cas—and tilted his head to kiss by the younger man’s temple. “Do you know how much I love you?” He asked, then answered his own question with, “because it’s more than life itself.”

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s chest and wrapped his arm back around his neck with a sigh. After a moment he lifted his head up and leaned in to kiss Dean gently. “You know I love you, too, Dean. More than anything.”

Another kiss, and then he shifted back to take hold of one of Dean’s hands and tug the other man over to climb into the bed, reaching to turn the radio off on the way past. Once they were both settled down on the mattress, Cas tucked neatly into Dean’s side and Dean’s arm around his waist, Cas returned his head to Dean’s shoulder and let one hand come up to play with Dean’s pendant almost absently.

They were both feeling relaxed, loved and closer than ever in the little bubble they had temporarily established for themselves.

“So how was your first dance?” Dean asked after a few minutes of companionable silence, “since that shitty one in grade school didn’t count.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips, and he buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, pressing a kiss there, then replied, muffled by Dean’s shirt, “it was really nice. Thank you.” Then he turned his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder properly again and wondered, “where did you learn to dance?”

“TV, mostly.” Dean admitted with a grin. “I never really went to school dances; they weren’t my kind of thing.”

“You would have been popular at them, though. You are unreasonably attractive.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“I think you’re trying to be humble, but don’t. Because you are. Unreasonably attractive, I mean.”

“Hate to break it to you, Cas, but so are you.”

“I’m what now?” Cas laughed and swatted at Dean lightly. “Don’t even joke.”

Dean just smiled up at the ceiling. “I’m not. You’re freaking hot. You are not the one who got lucky in this relationship, I am.”

Cas was quiet for a minute, then lifted his head to look down at Dean properly. “You… actually mean that, don’t you?”

Even after years of being in a relationship with Dean, Cas had trouble thinking of them as equals. He still saw himself as awkward and weird, no matter what Dean tried to tell him. He secretly thought Dean was kind of slumming it with him, if he was honest, even though he’d been told time and again that he was beautiful, amazing, something precious to be treasured.

Now, Dean sighed and let one hand come up to thread his fingers into Cas’s hair gently, then tugged him down for a kiss, long and lingering. When they parted, he just asked softly, “why don’t you ever believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…” Cas leaned into the hand in his hair and closed his eyes with a soft little sound. He had never had the best self esteem, and while being with Dean had certainly helped with that, helped build him up, it hadn’t cured it entirely. “I just don’t see myself like you see me, I guess. That’s all.”

“Cas,” Dean tugged at his hair lightly to get him to look at him, and when blue eyes opened again and flitted to meet Dean’s, the older man gave him a little smile. “I am not the reason people look at us when we go out together. It’s gorgeous, gorgeous you they’re looking at.”

“To be fair I think they’re probably looking at you, too.” Cas managed after a moment.

“So, they’re looking at both of us. But at least half of that is because of you.” His tone was sincere, and Dean continued stroking through Cas’s hair reassuringly. “You have… amazing bone structure. And downright gorgeous eyes. A beautiful smile. Your skin is perfect. And your hair is so, so soft and touchable. It looks soft and touchable, too.” There he paused before grinning and asking, “do I need to start talking about your body?”

Cas flushed red slightly and shook his head. “No, I, ah… get the idea.”

Dean tugged him down for a kiss. “So, just accept the fact that you are a freaking phenomenally beautiful person and lets’ move on.”

“Move on to what?”

“Well,” Dean grinned up at him, “you said no sex until I shaved. And I shaved.”

Cas blinked down at him—and then began to laugh softly. He leaned down to kiss Dean again. “Don’t look so excited, it would make saying no like kicking a puppy.”

“Don’t be that guy, Cas. Don’t kick the puppy.”

Another snort of laughter, but Cas shifted around, sitting up properly and swinging one leg over Dean to settle straddling the older man’s hips. He braced his hands against Dean’s abdomen, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt a little and leaned down for another kiss. After a moment he murmured against Dean’s lips; “I would never kick a freshly shaven puppy.”

Dean laughed, head falling back and entire body shaking with it, and this time it was Cas’s turn to grin. Actually grin—hugely. Then he eased his hands under the edge of Dean’s shirt and pushed it upward. “No, no, come on, no laughing right now, be serious, we’re going to do this. Take this off.”

Dean just kept chortling, but leaned up to pull his t-shirt off, discarding it to the side. Cas continued to smile widely and ran his hands up from Dean’s abdomen to his chest, feeling out his warm skin and muscle. He sighed deeply, eyes going half-lidded and licking his lips. “And you think I’m the beautiful one? You’re a freaking adonis. I thank whatever fates aligned to put us together every day. I am so grateful that I get to be with you…”

“Cas…” Dean reached up to grasp at the side of Cas’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, hard and deep, and when he eased back it was only by an inch to murmur, “take your clothes off.”

He didn’t believe in fate—not the way Cas did. He didn’t think things were pre-written for them, for anyone, he believed they made their own way in life. What he did believe in was this—what he had with Cas, what had grown between them in what seemed like an instant, so long ago, and continued to this day. He put his faith in Cas, in their relationship—in their love—and he didn’t think he would ever look back from that.

He definitely didn’t want to, at the very least.

Now, Dean watched Cas straighten back up and pull his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side—and then the two of them were kissing again, hot and wanting. And it was probably unfair of him, to keep Cas all to himself, to hoard him like gold, but he couldn’t help it, not when they came together so perfectly, fit like puzzle pieces, were so obviously made for each other.

After a moment, Cas broke off, giving Dean one more, brief kiss, to start trailing kisses downward, along his neck and over his chest, against the ridges of his abdomen to nip just under Dean’s navel, making him twitch, and shuffling himself down in the process. When he’d gotten as far as he could go, he sat back up and worked open the button and zip of Dean’s pants, then lifted up onto his knees to tug them down a little, just enough to free the older man’s flagging cock.

Then a soft hum and Cas eased to the side on the bed and ducked down to suck Dean’s cock into his mouth, loving the feel of him hardening up the rest of the way against his tongue. He sighed and closed his eyes, beginning to bob his head slowly, an easy, casual blowjob that Dean normally would have enjoyed immensely, however—

This time, after a few moments of his breath becoming heavier and heavier, Dean reached down with one hand to thread his fingers into Cas’s hair and gently tugged him up and off his cock. Cas came willingly, licking his lips as he looked up at him and made a quiet questioning noise.

“I want you, not just your mouth.” Dean explained with a sigh.

Cas smiled at that and crawled up to give him a proper kiss again, his tongue tasting of salty precome. “So, take your pants off, then.” And then he proceeded to ease away and take his own advice, climbing off the bed long enough to get out of his jeans and boxers—and also to grab the lube from the bedside table while he was at it.

Dean just focused on getting himself the rest of the way out of his own jeans, kicking them away, followed by his boxers, before reaching one hand out for Cas, who took it and climbed back onto the bed with him—then stumbled slightly and half-fell on top of him. Cas muttered a quiet apology, but Dean just laughed and pulled him into another kiss, even as Cas slid into his lap, straddling his hips again, and pushed the lube into his hand.

Swallowing slightly, Cas adjusted himself while Dean opened the tube of lubricant and squirted some out, slicking up his fingers before capping it again and dropping it off to the side. Then he reached around Cas’s side and down to start easing his fingers into the younger man, who just buried his face in Dean’s neck in an attempt to muffle himself a little bit.

The first finger hardly felt like anything anymore, and Cas took a couple of deep breaths while Dean worked it into him, in and out gently, before offering softly, “I’ve… tried this on myself before, you know. A couple times.”

Dean actually paused at that, and even though Cas wasn’t looking at him, he could see the kind of blankly surprised look on his face. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“Keep going.” Cas urged, shifting his hips, and Dean finally started moving his hand again, carefully introducing the second finger—and smiling a little when that made Cas gasp. “I—ah—sometimes I miss this so much, especially when we’re… a-ah… apart for a long time, and I just… a couple of times I’ve gotten desperate and—”

Dean shoved his fingers deep at that point, right up against his sweet spot, and Cas broke off to muffle a cry against the other man’s skin. Dean rubbed the pads of his fingers over Cas’s prostate for a long moment before easing off and going back to stretching him out. “Christ, Cas… I would pay to see you do that.”

Cas just shook his head, hips pushing down against Dean’s hand as he gently pushed the third finger in, a stinging burn as he stretched out farther. “S’not the same.” He panted, hands grabbing at Dean’s shoulder, kneading there restlessly, “can’t reach as deep, doesn’t feel as—a-ah!—good…! A poor, mmh, poor substitute at best…”

“Still sounds hot.” Dean told him, and Cas could hear him grin, even as he was easing his fingers out and sliding his slick hand down Cas’s thigh. “Your turn now, Cas…”

Nodding against his neck, Cas pushed himself up, licking his lips absently, and shuffled around until he was in the right position, then reached down to grip Dean’s cock and hold it steady as he slowly sank down over it, plunging deep and taking the other man into himself in one smooth motion. His back arched and his head fell back slightly, a sharp cry in his throat. Cas bit his lip to muffle it, then gasped out, “oh, God, Dean… yes…!”

“Not that I ever thought you were,” Dean told him around a barely-swallowed moan, his own head back and his breath coming faster, his hands moving restlessly as he tried to resist the urge to thrust up into Cas’s perfect, silky heat, to give him a minute to adjust, “but you are not the gawky, awkward high school kid you thought you were anymore, Cas…!”

Cas could only whine softly at the compliment, licking his lips as he began shifting his hips just slightly, so completely stuffed full he couldn’t even put it into words—had never been able to. Somehow there was comfort in the fact that Dean knew how it felt now, too, though.

“You’re amazing,” Dean continued on, hands sliding up Cas’s thighs and in toward his abdomen to feel the younger man’s stilted breath, then farther up to his chest; “you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re loving, you’re loyal, you’re incredible…” he trailed one hand, drifting up to tangle his fingers in Cas’s hair, tugging to get him to look at him, “you’re fucking hot.” He finished with a grin, then; “and the best part is you’re mine.”

“I… I like being yours…” Cas managed to gasp out, a touch embarrassed, followed by; “Dean, c-can we please… have this conversation… when you’re not… inside me…?”

But Dean just shook his head, “you don’t listen when I’m not—ah—inside you.” And then; “Cas, move…!”

A brief nod and Cas licked his lips before beginning to rock himself over his boyfriend, just slow, careful little rolls of his hips that moved Dean only the slightest bit in his body but gave them both some of the friction they were craving. Cas’s hands were down, kneading against Dean’s abdomen—and Dean had one hand tangled in Cas’s hair, the other grasping at his chest, thumb rubbing over a pert nipple before sliding back down to hold at his hip tightly.

Dean was hard as a rock inside him, and Cas was almost painfully hard himself, but he still drew things out, continuing his little, almost gentle rocks of his hips for a while until Dean grew frustrated and bucked up against him—at which point Cas gave a breathless laugh and accused, “impatient…!”

“Just because I want you…” Dean grumbled, but settled himself again, just pulling at Cas’s hair and tugging him down for a kiss.

The new position, leaning over Dean like that, made the older man’s cock grind right up against his prostate, and Cas gasped out an almost startled moan against Dean’s mouth. “Oh, God!” Then he shook his head, pressed one more kiss to Dean’s lips, and straightened again with a groan, going right back to what he had been doing.

When Dean swore under his breath and dragged the hand in Cas’s hair down to his hip, Cas swallowed thickly and managed, “just… just let me make love to you, Dean. Let me have this… slow and deep and not just—ah—screwing... let me feel you…”

And suddenly Dean understood. He watched Cas continued to move over him, now just the slightest bit harder, blue eyes closed—and abruptly grabbed at the younger man, pulling him down and kissing him hard, then tumbling them over so he was the one on top. Cas went down with a startled yelp but didn’t complain when Dean settled between his legs and his cock slid into him again, deep and firm and full.

Cas took a minute to catch his breath, then wrapped his arms around Dean and gave him a vaguely surprised look. “Wh…?”

His boyfriend smiled and ducked down for a kiss, bracing himself on one forearm and sliding his other hand down to nudge at one of Cas’s legs. “You wanted to make love, so we’re going to make love.” He told him softly. “Unless you were really set on being on top.”

Cas shook his head and when Dean leaned their foreheads together, he sighed deeply and smiled fondly, then just lifted his legs up to wrap them around Dean’s hips, ankles crossed just below the small of his back, and murmured, “make love me to me, Dean.”

This time it was Dean who started moving his hips, just shallowly and gently at first, carefully working his way up to deeper, more forceful thrusts—but nothing ever got hard. Nothing ever got rough. Cas arched and panted and moaned into it, head back and eyes closed until Dean drew him into another kiss, pressed their heads together so they could look into each other’s eyes as he continued to move.

Staring into Dean’s eyes when they made love just… laid Cas’s soul completely bare, opened up everything he was, he thought, left him nowhere to hide. The first time it had happened it had been a revelation. Now it was just reaffirmation of their love. Of the trust that existed between them. He saw many things in Dean’s eyes, too; beautiful things that he would never forget. Entire universes.

When Dean finally had to break eye contact and duck to bury his face in Cas’s neck, Cas slid one hand up to thread his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair gently and began rolling his own hips to meet Dean’s thrusts, slow, deep and hot.

And this was exactly what he’d wanted. Why hadn’t he just started out like this to begin with? Then again, they had made love with Cas on top before, so there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t work out. This was better, this time, though… so much better.

Dean shifted slightly, bracing his knees to push his cock deeper into Cas’s body and Cas was left to arch into it with a gasp, his own head falling back against the pillows, hair mussing there, eyes closed again as he panted for air, the hand in Dean’s hair twisting and tugging at the soft strands along with their movements. His other hand, meanwhile, was holding against Dean’s back, by his shoulder, fingers digging in sharply. He had been known to leave marks in the past—and Dean was usually pleased when he did.

Now Cas tightened his legs around Dean, spurring Dean on to increase his pace, moving faster and a little harder but with just as much feeling behind it, fucking into Cas until both of them could do nothing but pant and moan loudly, Dean beginning to trail messy kisses along Cas’s neck and shoulder and Cas eventually dragging his nails down Dean’s back, leaving sharp pink tracks in their wake, to let his hand come to rest at the small of the older man’s back.

Hissing softly at the scratches, Dean gave a breathless chuckle and accused, “tease.”

“Not… teasing…” Cas panted out, loving the feeling of Dean moving inside him—of his muscles shifting and bunching under his palm. “Just feels… oh, God… so damn good…!”

Dean grunted out an agreement and just ducked his head against Cas’s shoulder again, burying his face as he began to move faster, harder, working them up to the edge, finally. Cas threw his head back, panting out a cry as Dean worked him over—and it always ended up this way. The last few minutes were almost always fierce despite their initial intentions—but definitely not in a bad way.

Now Dean just fucked into Cas hard and deep, aiming to purposefully jam against his sweet spot as much as possible, and Cas wailed, clinging to Dean for all he was worth, frantically trying to work his own hips to keep up with the other man. He didn’t last for much longer, his orgasm crashing over him only a few moments later, leaving Cas to gasp out another sharp cry and arch against Dean, coming hard between them.

Dean was next, taking a few more, hard thrusts that made Cas whimper before coming deep inside Cas—and there was something deeply satisfying about that every single time. Dean was still for a long minute before collapsing on top of Cas, panting against his shoulder with a grin. “…awesome.”

“So… so you keep saying.” Cas gave a breathless laugh, head back and eyes closed, and smoothed his hand up Dean’s back, fingers trailing along the new scratches lightly, making Dean hiss in a breath again. “Sorry about the, ah… scratches.”

“Mmm… don’t be… you know I like it when you do that.” Dean hummed and nuzzled into Cas’s neck warmly. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas’s lips quirked into a little fond smile, and he opened his eyes, lifting his head from the pillows to glance down at Dean. “I love you, too.”

After a couple minutes of catching their breath, Cas kicked Dean off of him and they cuddled up together, sweaty and sticky and otherwise dirty, definitely in need of a shower. But later. For now, they were just enjoying the afterglow. It was always nice when they got to do that.

That night, after they got cleaned up, they went back to the diner for dinner. Dean ordered a burger and Cas got pasta, and it was just as good as breakfast had been. Cas watched Dean eat quietly, privately pleased that the other man seemed good again, after the day before, and visiting his childhood house earlier. He had been worried about that; about the effect it would have on Dean. But Dean seemed perfectly happy with his burger and fries and just spending time with Cas like regular people, the beginning of their weekend now just a memory.

When they finished eating, they went back to the motel again—and spent the rest of the weekend, until Cas had to leave on Monday, locked up in the room together, just reassuring each other that everything was alright. Would always be alright. With them, anyway.

On Monday morning Cas woke up early. He always woke up early on the days he was leaving from their weekend meetups, like his body was trying to remind him that he only had so much time left. He rolled over in bed and tucked himself into Dean’s side, and Dean curled around him, wrapping him up in his arms, protective, somehow, even in his sleep. It made Cas smile to himself in the darkness of the room.

When Dean woke up some time later, when the sun was finally starting to properly rise, Cas was caught watching him sleep and could only give a sheepish smile. “Hey… good morning.”

Dean stretched and settled on his back with an arm around Cas and an amused smile on his face, “am I really that interesting?”

“You are.” Cas slid one arm over Dean’s chest and leaned his head down on his shoulder. “To me, anyway.” He hesitated before saying just softly, “I have to leave today, Dean.”

Dean’s smile faded at that. “I know. I hate these days.”

“Me too.” Cas agreed, tightening his arm over Dean. “This sucks.”

“It always sucks, Cas.”

“I know, but…” Cas adjusted his hold on Dean, bringing one hand up to trace his fingers against his chest absently. “I just think it would be nice, sometimes. If we could be together all the time.” Then he added quickly, “I know we can’t! You can’t quit Hunting and I can’t exactly go on the road with you, your Dad would commit murder… but I mean…”

“I hear you.” Dean chuckled, “there’s times when a normal, run-of-the-mill life with you sounds really good. But with the way things are… it’s just not possible. So, we’ve gotta just make the best of it, right? These weekends aren’t so bad. They’re like our own private little world, but all over the place. Like we own the whole country.”

“Sort of.” Cas admitted with a little smile. That was a nice way of looking at it. He lifted his head and leaned up to give Dean a soft kiss. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.”

“A sad Castiel is no good.” Dean said against his lips with a smile of his own, “so hey, what do you want to do this morning, before we have to go to the bus station?”

They ended up taking a shower together and making love under the running water, and even managed to avoid running out of hot water in the process. Then they went back to the diner down the street for breakfast, where Dean once again stuffed himself silly and Cas watched him with an amused smile the entire time.

By the time they finished eating and got back to the motel, Cas had to pack up his things so they could head for the bus station, and he did so with marked reluctance. Once everything was packed and ready to go, Dean pulled Cas into his arms and held him close for a long, few minutes until they simply couldn’t put it off any longer, at which point they left the motel again and headed downtown.

Goodbyes at the bus station were long and lingering and sad on both sides, but particularly for Cas. These partings were always hard on him—or, at least, he showed it more easily than Dean did, anyway. They stood together at the bus terminal, waiting for his boarding call, facing each other, foreheads pressed together and holding hands, Cas’s backpack at their feet, and completely ignoring anyone and everyone around them—until it was time for Cas to leave.

Cas’s automatic response was to grip tighter to Dean’s hands, but Dean gently eased away, murmuring a soft apology—and that he loved him. Cas just wanted to cry. He always wanted to cry in these moments. But eventually, after another boarding call, Cas had to release his grip on Dean and pick up his backpack to board the bus.

The last thing Dean did before Cas climbed onto the bus was lean in for one last kiss and whisper softly into his ear, “everything I do, I do it for you.”

Cas carried that with him all the way home.

Look into your heart you will find There's nothin' there to hide Take me as I am, take my life I would give it all, I would sacrifice Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more You know it's true Everything I do, I do it for you, yeah -“(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” by Bryan Adams

THE END

[lady-bess]

Fallout - Chapter 8 "Back to Basics"

Jack Daniels x F!Reader Explicit/18+ (Minors DNI please) Chapter Word Count: 6.4k Chapter Tags: Trauma response, description of training, description of weaponry, use of a gun, PTSD/Trauma flashbacks, traumatic reaction, grounding, slight intimacy, description of wounds/scars, beginning of a friendship, drinking, eluding to being drunk at times (sensibly).

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<- Previous Chapter (Ch. 7 - "An Encounter")

Training Jack proved to be somewhat difficult - especially when he finally had a weapon placed back in his hands.

A/N: Thinking of changing the artwork for this series...thoughts? Also I'm officially scrapping an upload schedule. I started this as an every Wednesday idea, but I've found it too restrictive. I'm now just going to upload whenever I had a chapter ready! It'll still be regularly that this series gets updated, but that just gives me a bit more freedom!

Your time spent in the bar after work was somewhat different to how you first imagined it to be. Rather than the tipsy affair you had in your head, instead you opted for nursing a whiskey while plotting what training you could offer Jack. You swilled the contents of the glass around briefly as you contemplated what you had planned, your eyes scanning over scrawled notes littering the book you’d been using, before you were joined by a familiar southern drawl. 

“How’s it coming along?” Tequila had asked as he slid into the booth with you, a cold beer in hand. He took a swig of the drink as he got himself settled in next to you as you both awaited the rest of your party to join.

“I think I’ve got it nailed down. Here,” you pushed your notepad over towards Tequila, “have a look and see what you think?”. 

Tequila took another swig from his bottle before setting it down on a coaster and turning his attention to the book you’d been jotting down notes in all evening. Although your meeting with Jack was brief, combined with what Tequila had already told you about his rehabilitation after Jack had left had given you a good framework to start plotting with. You knew before Tex had given you more information that this would have to be a very different training plan, but you hadn’t anticipated just how different. 

Time. That was going to be the main difference - even in spite of the fact Jack had been a very well respected, and highly trained, agent for so many years, there was not an element of this that you could rush. Normally your goal was to get recruits to a high standard as fast as possible, and as you only ever dealt with the weapons training it was simple for you to streamline the process. All your training could be simplified as the more you practise, the better you get.

But Jack would have to be different. The kind of trauma he had faced over his life, totally unchecked too, made you take a different approach. You wouldn’t even dare put a weapon in his hands for a few weeks at least, and only would on the advice of Loretta. 

Tequila nodded slowly as he read over your notes, following the words with his finger - an endearing trait about Tex you’d picked up on when he told you about his dyslexia, and the struggles he sometimes had when it came to the admin side of his job. He’d found ways to make it work for him, and never didn’t turn in his reports, but there were still times you’d see him struggle. Your handwriting probably didn’t help, either…

“Looks good, London,” he said, smiling as he handed you the book back, “are you gonna start training him right away?” he asked. You nodded, placing your ribbon page marker into the book before closing the cover and tucking the book back in your bag. 

“No point delaying things. I imagine Jack’ll want to get going soon anyway. Sounds like he’s been itching to get back out there,” you said, returning to nursing your drink. Tequila chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. 

“You’re not wrong there. For months he was fine, and didn’t want to really think about it. But these last few weeks he’s turned a corner and there’s been a huge shift in him - and for the better, too. He’ll be pleased to know you’ll want to start immediately.” 

You smiled at Tex, finishing the last of your drink. 

“It’s good to have you back. I missed you; we all did,” you said. He pulled you in for a side hug, squeezing you tight into his solid frame. He planted a soft kiss in your hair, then released you. 

“I missed you too, kid.”

You’d spent the rest of that evening catching up with Tequila, finding out about his life in the UK with Astrid, who when she joined the table the two of you both almost broke down in tears after finally being reunited. She coddled you in her arms and it was like no time had passed at all - suddenly it was over two years ago,  the night before you found out where you were being stationed, and the two of you were drunkenly hugging like your lives depended on it. 

Tequila and Astrid would be staying States-side for a while, but that didn’t stop the two of you treating that night like you’d never see each other again. By the time the morning rolled around, and you peeled yourself off your bed, you cursed the fact you’d let Astrid talk you into three rounds of shots to finish the night off. Getting up to brew a pot of coffee, you thanked your lucky stars you’d told Jack to not meet you until the afternoon, and opted to type up his training plan from your work laptop at home so you could at the very least nurse your hangover in the comfort of your sweatpants and no bra. 

Jack’s training plan was a solid one, and this was probably the most thought you’d ever put into a recruit’s programme. Which sounded bad, given that for over a year it had been your job to train the next generation of recruits - but Jack was complicated, he wasn’t a fresh slate like so many who walked in through the doors of your office. There were so many adjustments you needed to make before you could confidently loosen the reins with him like your other students, even if he did technically have more experience than you in this line of work. 

The major adjustment you’d had to make with him was significantly dialling back on the combat and weapons side of things. Having spoken to both Tex and Loretta to get an idea of the kind of rehab programme he’d been undertaking, it was clear that the very last thing you should consider was putting a weapon in his hand. Which was something you knew anyway, but after re-reading his therapy notes once the caffeine hit your system that morning, you thought twice about also getting him involved in physical combat. 

That afternoon, once you’d made yourself look somewhat presentable, you’d started at ground level with Jack, and so began the next two months of you being his 1-on-1 trainer. Meeting at your office, he’d then been given a tour to the site as if he were a fresh-faced twenty-something who had been poached by Statesman, with no prior secret service training under his belt. He’d met all his new colleagues, some of whom he already knew , and learnt about all the recent developments that had happened since he’d been taken off active duty. 

Then, the admin work. How you didn’t pull your hair out with him you’d never quite understand - for a man who had been in a job literally engulfed with technology for the best part of two decades, it was like watching a fawn how to walk on ice when it came to him getting to grips with the new system and the way in which things were filed. Long gone were the days of brown envelopes containing classified information, a system he was so comfortable with, and in with digital. 

After the twelfth consecutive training day of getting him used to the system, you almost lost your rag at him. You were behind on your own paperwork now, with Jack’s training slowly becoming to the detriment of your own cases. At just turned four o’clock one afternoon, with your head in your hands, you grumbled at him. 

“How did you manage before?” you’d asked, genuinely curious how he’d gotten by if he was this shit with technology. He’d just shrugged, wiping his hands across his face in equal frustration at the fact he couldn’t grasp it. 

“I’d had assistants for years! I never needed to worry about any of this shit,” he’d said, which suddenly answered a lot of your questions. 

Jack was the biggest pain in your ass you’d ever known. You thought that for someone who had been given a second chance at life that he might be a little more grateful to the training you were giving him – and in the discreet manner in which you were giving it. Jack didn’t make it easy for you; for as much as you were happy with the cover story that he was brand new to Statesman, the former senior agent spent a fair bit of his time out chatting to other colleagues in a way where it was very obvious he clearly had a past with the company.

But still, you persevered. Sticking to your word, you didn’t tell anyone who he really was, even when you were asked about it. Schmidt had enquired about him on a few occasions.

“Tex says he’s new, but I’m not convinced y’know. Is there more to it?” he’d asked one afternoon you’d gone to get coffees. You’d just shrugged it off, answering with a non-committal, “Not that I’ve been told”.

But in spite of how much you wanted to ring his fucking neck some days, Jack gradually got the hand of it. He saw how much effort you’d put in, and when he’d noticed you not leaving your office one night just to catch up on your own work, he’d seen the sacrifice you were making to your own caseload just to make sure that he was getting the training he’d needed. 

Filled with guilt, he’d brought you a latte that next morning ( with an extra shot of espresso) , and had started pulling extra hours himself to make sure he had it nailed. He would repeat anything he didn’t understand time and time again until he cracked it. You found him one night cooped up in the library by himself in the corner, desperately typing away on a laptop. The smallest quip of a grin could be seen on his face, and you slinked away that evening with a sense of pride that he’d finally started getting it. 

After that night, spending time with Jack slowly got more tolerable. You’d be lying if you said that the two of you hadn’t got off to a rocky start - he was someone who had been so used to getting any privileges handed to him on a silver platter, and now for the first time in years he was actually having to work for it. It had obviously ground his gears, and he’d resented you somewhat while he was getting to grips with everything anew. As his training officer, you became the face of all his misfortune, in his mind you were the reason that he wasn’t progressing faster. 

But once he got over himself and let his ego calm down, he started to see that none of this was your fault, and instead you were doing everything in your power to help speed this along. In a way he started to admire you - how you held yourself, how kind you were, and how far you had come with Statesman in such a short amount of time. The two of you might have still butted heads from time to time, but on the whole it was getting to be a much more amicable relationship the two of you had. 

Finally, Jack started making progress in leaps and bounds. Not only was he finally getting the hand of filing the paperwork, and making record time for some of it now after hours of practice, but Loretta had finally cleared him for using firearms. 

“There ain’t a guarantee he’s totally ready. There never will be, child. But his sessions have been the most positive since I met the guy. I’d say it’s worth a try ,” she’d said. 

You were nervous about the prospect of Jack handling a weapon - you’d read his file and knew what a marksman he used to be, and how he could handle himself in seemingly any situation. Of all the agents who were serving with the organisation at the time of his accident, Jack had suffered the fewest injuries across the entire team, even in spite of how long he had worked here. There was a part of you who worried that he’d try and relive his glory days, and go too far too soon, and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. 

But you trusted Loretta, and if she said his sessions were becoming more positive, and that this was worth trialling, you had no reason to not believe her. She was an honest woman, worth her weight in salt, and would never suggest Jack do something if she didn’t think he was ready to take on the challenge from a mental standpoint. 

So, just over two months after your formal introduction, you were finally in the weapons department. Jack marvelled at how the room had changed since his time in here last - even though this is where the two of you had met, he hadn’t really paid much attention to what this room was like. His focus had more so been pinned on the woman in a waistcoat who was to be his training officer for the foreseeable future… 

There were so many safety features installed here in comparison to when he was last in here for official training duties. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the dozens of additional locks and biometric keypads that now covered the cases of weapons and internal doors to the weapons room, a clear indicator of what went wrong with him. 

You let him have a session just getting used to the feel of the weapons room now - even if Loretta had said he could try the weapons, you were in no hurry to put a gun in his hand on the first day. You’d been strict about it, locking away all bullets and magazines behind a biometric lock tailored to you before his session had even begun, just to make sure that he couldn’t suddenly flip a switch and go all trigger-happy. 

But to your great relief, he didn’t. He happily took in his new surroundings, made notes as to the newer weapons that had come in since his time, as well as just get a feel for what a gun felt like again. 

Jack smiled taut down at the small silver revolver, engraved with Statesman’s ‘S’ on the leather handle. It was not all too dissimilar to the kind of pistols he once carried. It was almost bittersweet to handle them once again, and you stood back and watched how he reacted to having them in his grasp once more. 

“You alright?” you’d asked him. Jack had simply nodded, caressing the metal with his thumb gently, before putting them back in their allocated holder. 

“Yes, ma’am. With your permission, I think I’d be ready for us to start using them in training, if you saw fit,” he’d said. 

Truthfully, you no longer had a reason to say no. Loretta had cleared him, and after a couple of sessions where any and all ammunition had been under lock and key, you were satisfied that he was as ready as he could be to start that part of the training now. 

So, you agreed. 

But when it came to those sessions, you were instantly regretting your decisions. For the first time in weeks you were seeing the cockier side of Jack again, the side you’d come to learn  would come out in a situation when he thought he was the only person who could know the answer. It wasn’t very often he would drag up his prior stint with the agency in a session with you, mainly due to the risk of someone overhearing who was not meant to know anything about his former moniker. But also because he’d agreed, along with yourself, Champ, and Loretta, that he’d likely fare better if he didn’t focus on what once was, and instead only looked forward to what would be. 

You weren’t sure what exactly got into him this morning to make him such a colossal ass , but you had no fucking patience for it anymore. You were almost ready to call the session to an early close, but after making him wait for so long to give this a go, you figured you owed it to your student to at least let him have a go. 

That didn’t mean he remotely appreciated your generosity. 

“I know how to hold a fuckin’ gun, Mimosa,” Jack said, anger evident in his tone and an annoyance seeping in. You rolled your eyes ( for the fifteenth time this session, you might add ) and sighed as Jack gripped the handle on the pistol. 

“You used to know, Seltzer,” you said, earning you a disapproving grunt from the former senior agent. You knew it pissed him off no end to be called by anything other than Jack, or Whiskey, but that was a title his own stupidity has forfeited. You’d happily remind him of that whenever he so needed it - it helped to bring him down a little bit, you found. Normally you’d call him Jack, but today you couldn’t be fucking bothered with his childish attitude. 

“Stop callin’ me that,” Jack murmured under his breath as he started loading the pistol for the first round of shots. He had hoped you wouldn’t notice, but unfortunately for him your hearing was significantly sharper than what he gave you credit for.

“Seltzer, I’ll have less of that,” you said. Jack’s eyes darted up to meet yours, a flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks as he realised he’d been made. You couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath as you caught the agent, virtually red handed, embarrassed that he’d been found out. 

Or slightly angry. You weren’t sure. 

“Sorry,” he said coyly, breaking eye contact. He rolled his shoulders back, warming up his muscles to get into position and start firing the pistol at the target.

You furrowed your brow as you watched how he held himself, lining his body up for the shot. The muscles in his shoulders tensed all wrong, his arms weren’t bent properly, and his feet were far too close together. You leant back against the bench at the back of the room, lined with weapons and ammunition, and crossed your arms across your chest. Jack wouldn’t hurt himself if he took a shot like this, so you didn’t need to intervene from a health and safety point of view. But you wondered if he took a shot like this, which would inevitably be off-target, it might make him realise he needed more help than he imagined. 

Jack got into position, albeit the wrong one, and inhaled sharply. He knew something wasn’t right, he could feel it. The gun felt too heavy, his arms were locked up, and his body felt like it was twisting in a manner that was now foreign to him. This was something he’d done day in, day out, for over two decades. He plainly refused to accept that he’d forgotten this ability, and instead of doing the sensible thing and asking for a correction, he carried on.

Like an angry bull going after a bull rider.  

He inhaled sharply and squeezed the trigger, releasing a bullet from the barrel, his breath never exhaling as he took the shot. The sensation of the bullet flying out the barrel careered up Jack’s arms and left a shaking feeling coursing round his body, his muscles still locked up and not releasing even once the bullet was out from the barrel. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the bullet fly out across the room, and avoid the target completely. 

Jack sighed at the miss, but what frightened him more than the disappointment that he’d failed was the feeling he was left with after. Not anger, not frustration - but anxiety. Even long after the sound from the shot firing had ceased ricocheting around the bunker the two of you were in, the noise continued to ring in his ear. 

The pitch of the bullet ringing around in his head got louder and more high pitched with every passing moment, and he screwed up his eyes to try and make it go away. It felt like the beginning of a sharp migraine piercing through his skull, and he’d not felt pain like this in a long time. It all concentrated near his temple, where the scar from his accident stood prevalent. 

A few seconds after the failed shot, you looked to Jack and saw that he wasn’t making any effort to move. Not just to get into a better position, but to do anything. He wasn’t reloading the gun, he looked as though he was barely breathing; the only thing that was moving was his face, which was painted with a pained expression. 

“Seltzer?” you said, pushing off the bench to step closer to him. He still held his position, but you could see that something else was taking over control over his body. 

He didn’t respond to your voice. Truthfully, he didn’t hear it. The ringing of the gunshot ran around his head, bouncing off the sides of his mind and sending a piercing shriek through him. Jack grunted, faltering on his stance, and fumbled with his weapon slightly as he tried not to drop it from the pain the noise brought him. He panted, quickly flicking the gun to have its safety mechanism on, before dropping it to the ground in a panic. 

“ Jack ?!” you said, now actually worried. At the use of his real name he seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in, and his eyes darted around to meet yours. Your heart shattered as you looked in them, and all you could see reflected back was fear. 

“I- that’s never- I don’t know-,” he stammered, his mouth dry and making it almost impossible for him to form a coherent sentence. You unfurled your arms from across your chest and went up to him, reaching out and gently placing your hands around his trigger hand to comfort him. 

Jack shook throughout his body, and beneath your palms you felt every nervous quake which ran down through to his fingers. You gently applied some pressure, trying your best to ground him, employing techniques you’d picked up at MI5 for trauma responses within your colleagues. You’d all seen some shit in your time, and it had become rather useful you’d found. 

Jack closed his eyes, his ears still ringing and the world around him spinning while he stood in place. His heart thudded in his chest and he could hear every beat as blood rushed through his ears. He found himself clinging to you like a lifeline, finding that your touch was the only thing keeping him from completely spiralling. 

With your other hand, you softly interlocked your fingers with his which rested by his side. His hand gripped yours tighter and you watched as he screwed up his eyes to try and calm himself, his breaths deep and steady. With a gentle voice, and getting closer so that you could speak in just a whisper, you spoke. 

“You’re alright, Jack. I’ve got you,” you said. He had no reason to trust you yet on a deeper level, aside from the fact you’d kept the secret about his identity for over two years. But in this one act alone he learned more about you than he perhaps knew about some of his colleagues whom he’d been working with for several years. He’d spiralled a few times over these last two years, and had to learn on his own how best to bring himself back to square one - but perhaps with you by his side, that might be easier. He never imagined that somebody else might be able to quell his troubled mind in any way, let alone how he so desperately needed. 

Slowly, the grip Jack had on you began to loosen, and his eyes opened. You smiled softly up at him, never once letting go of him as he regulated his breathing and began to calm down. He shot you a watery smile once he was calm anew, and you felt him trying to retract from your grip. You let him, pulling your hands away. 

“You alright?” you asked, letting his hands slide out from yours. Jack nodded. 

“Yeah, I- I think so. I’m sorry, ‘bout that…,” he said, looking almost perplexed as to what had just happened. You smiled softly and tipped your head towards a bench at the side of the training room, notioning for him to join you. He followed you to the bench and watched you remove your Stetson, setting it down on the seat to your left, before beckoning for him to take the one on your left. 

“When did you last fire a gun, Jack?” you asked. He shrugged, then sighed. He took his own hat off now, revealing the head of thick brown hair beneath it - albeit slightly more grey at the roots than what you recall from seeing in that photograph of him just over a decade ago. 

“On the day I got injured. One of the last things I heard was gunfire, before I-,” he sighed, again, “-yeah…”. 

“I’m sorry, Jack. Tequila eventually gave me the details of what happened that day,” you said, looking up at him. It was then, without his hat on and so close to you, that you saw the scar on his temple. You gently raised your hand and brushed your fingertips over the scar, and Jack grimaced as you did. Deep down he didn’t hate how the feeling of your soft touch was on his skin, but he couldn’t show such weakness. Not when he was trying all he could to appear tough. 

He sighed solemnly, letting his tough facade slowly fade from view. Of all people, there was no point hiding this side of himself from you - you needed to know as much about how he was doing in order to help him, and he’d be damned if he was about to face setbacks all because he didn’t want his pride to get damaged. 

You retracted your hand from his scar, not wanting to draw too much attention to the area, and instead reached over to take Jack’s hand in yours. Your fingers softly slid between his, but it was Jack who responded with a tightening grip. 

He smiled faintly down at your intertwined hands, the feeling now so foreign to him. It had been a long time since anyone had shown Jack physical affection, and even longer since that affection felt like it came from a place of love and care. After his wife passed he’d not wanted anything with women beyond meaningless hookups, and the second things began to feel more intimate, he’d shut things down. On a couple of occasions he’d entertained the idea, but those relationships never lasted longer than a few months, and as soon as he felt as though she cared more for him than he felt he deserved , he ended things. 

So something as simple as having his hand held, while completely clothed, was almost bizarre. But he noted, as he watched your fingers softly curl around his, and your thumb caress the back of his, that he didn’t hate the way this felt. 

“Thank you, Mimosa,” he said softly, “You’re a credit to this organisation, you know?”.

“Yeah?” you asked, turning to now look at Jack. He turned his head and smiled at you, a pair of deep brown eyes boring into you and making you feel warm and comforted from the inside. Even though it was you who was helping him right now, you yourself took comfort in the gentleness that was reflected back at you. 

“Yes. Tequila really undersold you,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, not remotely surprised. 

“Oh jeez, do I want to know what he said about me though?” you giggled, and Jack laughed with you now. 

“Only good things, Mimosa. I promise!” he explained. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” you snorted. 

“Oh, stop,” Jack chuckled, his hand gripping yours tighter, “I very much got the impression that the two of you enjoy winding each other up. So for him to still be able to sing your praises? Yeah, I trusted that he meant every word. And he wasn’t wrong; not about a single thing.” 

“Thank you, Jack. That means a lot to hear,” you smiled. 

Jack nodded, then cleared his throat and loosened his grip on your hand. He’d calmed down enough now that he felt as though he could clear up in here for the day, and didn’t want to burden you any longer with his feeling of not being alright. He’d make a point to go and see Loretta after your session, he thought, and as you let him retract his hand from yours, both of you grabbed your stetsons and stood up. 

“You feelin’ better?” you asked, and Jack nodded, putting his hat back on his head. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m gonna head and see Loretta before our next session, just to go over today. But I think for now I’m gonna have to throw the towel in,” he smiled. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” you said, shaking your head. “This was always going to be a strange adjustment, and a big step to take. See Loretta, and perhaps next session we’ll do more work in weapons that don’t involve guns.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Got anything in mind?” he asked. You grinned, looking over to one of the wall panels which was filled with ropes and lassos. 

“I might have some ideas cooking up, yeah,” you chuckled. 

Jack followed your gaze to the cabinet, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t get a twinge of excitement at the thought of gripping a lasso again. It was one of the parts of his job that he missed the most, the power that came from being so nimble with a whip or lasso. 

He noticed, as he turned back to look at you, the way your fingers danced over the handle of your own whip. He’d seen it before, but he grinned as he watched you fiddle with it, he noticed it was a very similar model to the one he once owned. The way the small switch stood out on the end, signifying yours would turn electric at a moment’s notice, had a buzz go through Jack at the thought of you using it. 

He’d been wanting to ask for a few weeks why you chose that weapon - it wasn’t exactly conventional when he made the choice, and with the amount of technological advancements that had come along since his time he very much doubted that it was any more preferable now. You turned back to look at him and were greeted with a cheeky grin, a far cry to the face of the man who you had just seen almost broken not ten minutes before you. You furrowed your eyebrows in curiosity, and folded your arms across your chest in defence.

“What made you decide to have a whip as your signature weapon, by the way?” he asked, that playful smirk never diminishing. 

Ah, fuck. Busted. 

You cleared your throat, a warmth dancing across your cheeks at the reality you were now faced with. You knew that your decision to carry this weapon out of slight admiration was bound to come up one day, but you had hoped it would be much further down the line than this. You began trying to pace away from Jack, your feet moving towards the door. 

But something stopped you. 

Jack reached out and placed his hand on your arm, effectively stopping you in your tracks. Now you were really done for. You dared to make eye contact with the cowboy again, and butterflies swirled in your stomach as you did. 

“Well? Come on, don’t keep me waitin’. I don’t know many that would choose such a weapon. Colour me intrigued!” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled to yourself. You figured there was no better time than the present to rip this bandaid off, anyway…

“Fine, fine! Twist my arm, why don’t you,” you began, clearing your throat and inhaling sharply before continuing. 

“I read your file before I knew about you from Tequila, and your stats impressed me immensely. Your success rate, how little you got injured, and the kind of missions you were involved with. From a professional standpoint, I admired the work you did,” you said. “And then I finally got the chance to speak to Tex about you. He told me so much about you, but one detail that always stood out was your choice of weapon. I’ll admit, I was intrigued.”

“Really?!” Jack said, dropping his hand from your arm and replacing playful smirk for a smile of genuine joy. You chuckled as you watched him, slightly giddy, at the prospect that you might have for a second been inspired by him.  

“Yes, really . I couldn’t get my head around the benefit of a weapon like this,” you gestured to the whip by tapping the handle that was hooked to your hip, “But I was interested in finding out. So, on the downlow, I had my training officer show me the way with one”. 

“Who was your T.O?” Jack asked, the two of you now heading towards the exit. 

“Eve. She’s just got back from a prolonged, and well deserved, break. Have you ever worked with her?” you asked. Jack smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure. Does explain a whole lot about you and your training style though, given she shaped you into an agent.”

“She’s the best. I’ve missed her these last couple of months, but it’s been nice to not be worried about her getting injured recently,” you said. Jack shrugged before opening the door for you, allowing you to step out of the weapons room, then followed by him. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From what I recall Eve seemed to have a knack for getting herself into a pickle even when she wasn’t working!”. 

You laughed to yourself as you locked the weapons room door behind the two of you, turning the key in the lock and then entering the code 719002 into the door. He wasn’t wrong about Eve - even if he hadn’t worked with her for a couple of years, his assessment was alarmingly accurate. She was the best agent you’d ever worked with, but her ability to get caught up in minor self-inflicted accidents was almost comical. 

“You’re not wrong, I’ve seen her trip over thin air before,” you said, still giggling. Jack laughed with you, and then softened as you turned to look at him. 

“Thank you, for today. And for your patience in general. I know I haven’t been the easiest agent to train,” Jack said. You chuckled. 

“You can say that again,” you told him, winking playfully as you tucked the key to the weapons room in the inner pocket of your jacket. 

“Sorry,” he winced. 

“It’s nothing, Jack. You’re a pain in my ass, but… I’m coming to like having to deal with your… quirks ,” you chuckled. 

“ Quirks ?!” he said, not able to hold back a laugh. 

“Yes, quirks! You’re bloody impossible sometimes!”. 

Jack laughed with you, then shook his head in amusement. He knew you weren’t wrong, and that he had been reluctant to some of the changes which had been made recently, but every day he was grateful for the attention and devotion you showed him. 

“Okay, okay, fine . I’ll admit it!” he said, raising his hands as though he was in surrender. You giggled, playfully patting the side of his right rib cage gently as a physical way of telling him to knock it off. 

Jack smiled down at you, feeling totally relaxed in your presence. There hadn’t been many instances in the last two years where he’d felt like he was genuinely calm, or at peace. But something about this friendship that was blossoming between the two of you made him feel like nothing had ever gone awry, and that life wasn’t perfect. 

He had to drop his arms down to his sides fairly quickly, as he found the longer he stayed fooling around with you like this, the more he had the urge to pull you in for a huge hug. Something told him that you might not be totally against that, given the fact you’d already not shied away from using physical touch with him where needed, but that was a line he knew he shouldn’t cross. 

“Go see Loretta, Jack. And have tomorrow off, or use it for database study. I don’t want to overwhelm you given today,” you said. Jack nodded. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know when I’ve had my session,” he said. 

“Thank you. I’ll liaise with Champ and Tequila, and let them know about this too. You just get yourself some rest,” you insisted. 

“Thank you, Mimosa. I’ll see you soon,” he smiled, and then the two of you parted ways, heading off into respective parts of the building for the rest of the afternoon.

Even in spite of the drawback Jack had faced today, he was able to walk away optimistic, and with a spring in his step. He knew he still had a long way to go, and the hours he’d need to put into it would be nothing short of monumental. But with you as his T.O, he could actually begin to imagine his life after this was over. 

A second chance. Not one he ever thought he’d deserved, but one he was slowly beginning to earn. 

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[something-tofightfor]

The Truth Is Out There: Closure

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Art Conservator/Restoration Specialist FBI Agent

Word Count: 7,390

Chapter Rating: M (language, talk of drug use, mentions of sex)

Series Warnings: Sex Pollen (with a twist), no use of Y/N, female reader insert, Reader works for the FBI in art restoration/conservation and has a nickname that is used often by Marcus. In this house we cannot stand Teresa and Jane and that is reflected in this story.

Summary: The morning after brings new challenges for you and Marcus, but you’re both surprisingly prepared.

Author’s Note: This is the end. and I hope it’s satisfying for you. Thank you all for reading and for following along and for leaving me so many fantastic comments and reblogs. I’m going to start going through and replying tomorrow, so please don’t think I’ve been ignoring you. 

Thank you for letting me take some time off from regularly scheduled projects to crank this one out. I had a BLAST writing it. 

I might come back to these two at a later date - who knows. We’ll see. I appreciate every single one of you that encouraged and supported this story from beginning to end. You are incredible. 

Masterlist / Unrequited / One Breath / The Truth / This Is Not Happening / Three Words / Soft Light / Sleepless

He opened his eyes well before you did the next morning, Marcus careful not to jostle the mattress too much as he came to. Did yesterday really happen? Taking a breath, he turned his head to the side, catching a glimpse of your profile in the thin beam of light shining through the closed curtains. It did. 

Marcus used every ounce of self control not to reach for you. Instead, he closed his eyes again, a contented smile spreading across his face. It finally did. 

Keeping you at arm’s length for a year had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. The fact that everything had come to a head in one unforgettable night wasn’t something he fully understood, but he knew he couldn’t question it. 

Not when that single night had given him exactly what he’d wanted - and what you’d wanted - in only a few hours. Marcus rolled toward you, extending his arm and slipping it over your body. Part of him hoped you’d stay asleep. Another part of him wanted you to wake up just so that he could watch your features come alive as you also realized that the previous day had been something that you’d actually experienced. It wasn’t just something that we imagined.

You stayed asleep though, your quiet breathing steady. It only took him a few seconds to move even closer, the tips of his fingers dragging up and over the center of your back with just enough contact that he could feel the heat from your skin. We’re going to have to get up, but it can wait. Marcus closed his eyes again, exhaling - and he let his mind wander. 

It had started as soon as he’d landed in DC, getting settled in his new position and used to his new team. He’d met you after only a few days on the East coast, and despite the fact that he’d still been waiting on Teresa’s answer to his questions, he’d been drawn to you. 

It was a physical attraction, sure. Just because he was with Teresa didn’t mean that he was ignorant of what was happening around him. But it was also the way that you’d been so confident in your position, greeting him with an air of professional interest and telling him you’d heard of him - that you were excited to work with him. It was the way you were friendly but not overly so, understanding of the fact that he had a woman in Texas that would be moving to be with him as soon as she could. 

You kept your distance, though you never shied away from being his friend or striking up a conversation. And he’d appreciated the way your eyes flashed when he told you what had happened with Teresa and Jane, your sympathy genuine but not at all the same kind of pity that so many others were unable to hide.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I guess  that means you’re going to need an actual friend out here, hmm?” You shrugged your shoulders, cocking your head to the side. “DC’s a lot busier than Texas, Agent Pike. Plenty of people here that might try and steer you in the wrong direction if you let ‘em.” 

He paused, putting a hand on his hip and eyeing you. “You’re going to point me in the right one, then? Toward all the good people?” It was easy to talk to you and even easier to joke with you, and after a couple weeks of silently moping in his half-unpacked condo, it felt good to relax, even just a little. “How do I know you’re not one of the ones that are going to -”

“You don’t.” You leaned back in your chair, holding out both hands and shrugging. “Guess that’s just something you’re going to have to find out for yourself.” 

The friendship had bloomed quickly, you and Marcus eating lunch together a few days a week when your caseload allowed it. You went out together with the rest of your team, the two of you teaming up on trivia nights and getting to know each other in the safety of additional company. It was enough for Marcus - the man not wanting to jump into yet another ill-timed infatuation with someone that had sparked his interest. It was especially true since he couldn’t get Teresa and the way she’d treated him out of his mind. 

And then, after another month and a half - and his return from Texas without having any sort of meaningful conversation with Teresa -  you’d started trading text messages back and forth outside of office hours, sending him restaurant recommendations and updating him on the shows you were watching that you thought he might enjoy. The texts turned into hours spent together binging those TV shows and movies, your friendship growing stronger by the day and naturally evolving faster than he’d been prepared for.

It had been Marcus that invited you to dinner alone for the first time, and Marcus that started the actual flirting. It was Marcus that had taken your hand and squeezed it while you walked through the Constitution Gardens. 

But it was you that laced your fingers with his, you that leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you watched TV on your couch. And it was you that kissed him for the first time - the press of your lips against his cheek a chaste thing, despite the look in your eyes when you pulled away.. That kiss had come after he’d given you your nickname - a half-assed explanation that sounded much better in his head sounding hollow as he spoke it. 

He old you one of the reasons for your nickname, but he hadn’t been able to tell you the entire truth. 

He hadn’t been able or ready to admit that he didn’t only call you Scully because of the way you were with him at work, but because if there was one thing Marcus understood, it was thinly concealed desire and feeling things that you couldn’t explain. And those were two things that it was getting harder for him to ignore the more time he spent around you. 

You’d never pushed him for more, and he appreciated that. He was content to be your friend and only your friend because it meant that nothing would change between you and leave him more alone than the failed relationship with Teresa had. It was selfish and he knew it, but the thought of losing you - or even pushing you away when you realized just how much Lisbon and Jane still affected him - was something he refused to consider.

That lasted until one day you’d been in a terrible mood at work. 

After a few hours of coaxing, he finally got the explanation that a date had gone terribly the night before. Hearing the disappointment in your voice yet again led him to throwing his hands in the air and telling you that if you wanted to go on a real date, he was right there. 

Waiting for you answer in the silence of your office had been nerve wracking, but you’d agreed much faster than he’d anticipated. That simple yes set an almost perfect few weeks -  including a series of dates that weren’t much different from what you had been doing previously in terms of where you went and how you spoke to each other - into motion. 

Those dates, though, had been accompanied with more touching, tentative hugs and timid pecks on the cheek that turned into deeper kisses and bodies pressed together. But each of those nights ended with Marcus feeling guilty that there was a part of him that felt the Teresa situation was unresolved - that he still wanted to talk to her and say his piece.  

And that guilt grew the closer you and Marcus got to actual intimacy. He found it harder to concentrate on you and your time together when she was nagging at the back of his mind. It all came to a head when the two of you had ended up on his couch, Marcus atop you, balanced on one knee and his other foot flat on the floor. 

It was too much, and even though it was happening at a much more reasonable pace than with Teresa, he knew you deserved more than what he was giving you. So he’d put a stop to it, explaining everything as best as he could without giving everything away.

He’d expected you to end the friendship then and there, your frustration with his continued focus on Teresa ruining what the two of you had built. But you didn’t. And to your credit, you never purposely let him know how much it hurt to step so far back that the two of you left real space between each other on the couch again, or that you didn’t take each other’s hands as you walked down sidewalks or send each other the same types of texts that you’d grown accustomed to.

There was distance but it was never outright cold between you. As things settled back into a semblance of what they’d been, Marcus resigned himself to watching you date again. He even went so far as to ask you about each one, though he had to choke the words out every time. 

You did the same with him when he started casually seeing women in an attempt to get back out there. But he saw the hurt in your eyes and heard it in your voice when you replied to his stories or asked follow up questions. She doesn’t want the answers but she’s still curious.

He’d done a much better job at hiding his emotions than you had. On the inside, he was suffering. 

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it wasn’t Teresa or lingering feelings that were keeping you apart. It was only him, and his fear of losing something else he cared about because he’d failed. He still wanted to officially close the Teresa chapter to his own satisfaction before anything happened between you, though.

So when the opportunity presented itself, he jumped. 

He’d told you that it was happening because above all else, Marcus wanted to be honest. He wanted you to know that he was trying, and needed you to understand that he was trying to move forward. But he didn’t anticipate just how much knowing that he would be seeing Teresa would bother you. And as he sat at home on Sunday thinking about it, he knew that he’d fucked up big time by bringing it up the way he had. 

As soon as he’d seen Teresa, the woman stepping out of the hotel she’d asked him to pick her up from, Marcus knew that the decision he’d made was the right one. He felt nothing but contempt for her - no tug on his heart, no butterflies in his stomach, no heat rising in his cheeks. The whole time they’d been at lunch, catching up without actually talking in depth about anything, his mind had been on you. So when he saw that there was a missed voicemail with your name attached, he hadn’t been able to listen to it soon enough. 

And when he’d heard your voice - and the barely concealed terror in it, though you’d tried to stay calm - throwing cash onto the table and sprinting toward his car had been the only logical response. 

“M…Marcus? You’re breathing hard. Are you alright?” Sucking in a breath, he refocused his attention, finding that you were already awake and studying him. Shit, I missed it. “You trying to figure out how you can get out of bed without -”

“Absolutely not.” With the hand on your back pressed against your skin, he raised a brow. “I’m just thinking, I guess. About -”

“About how it’s like none of yesterday was real?” You frowned, head turning toward the pillow as you yawned. “About how aside from being sore and tired, I feel absolutely fine, and not at all like ten hours ago, when it felt like if you weren’t inside me, I was going to lose it?” 

“Y… yes?” He laughed at how serious you sounded, leaning closer to settle his forehead against yours. “All of that?” The room was quiet again, the only sound the soft rustle of the blankets as you stretched your legs. “You were going to lose it? Is that really -”

 “Shut up, Marcus, and kiss me good morning already. I know you want to.” You moved even as you spoke, repositioning yourself without lifting your head so that you could press your lips against his. He kissed you in return, both eyes slipping closed before his hand slid even further up your back, urging you closer. You parted your lips at the first sign of his tongue, and as the kiss deepend, Marcus’ instincts took over. 

Marcus leaned in, your body twisting so that you were on your back, some of his weight shifting to settle atop you. To his surprise, you gasped and then nipped hard at his lip, the man jolting away from you and frowning. What the - “Absolutely not, Agent Pike. My body needs at least a few days to recover from that marathon last night, and -”

He laughed first, the sound ringing through the room, and seconds later, you joined him, his body slumping against yours again as he lowered his head to kiss you quickly. “That’s not where this was headed, Scully. I swear. It -” 

The ringing of the phone interrupted him, both of you freezing at the sound. There’s only a handful of people that know we’re here, so … “Looks like it’s time for our debrief, hmm?” You shoved him away, groaning. “Do you think they’ll let us shower before we’re expected back in the office?” 

— 

Two hours later, he was in one of the briefing rooms, waiting. 

After your showers - separate and not nearly long enough for his liking - you’d headed back to the J. Edgar Hoover building, the same three DEA agents and your boss waiting to greet you. You’d been separated almost immediately, Deanna and an FBI agent pulling you down one hallway and Scott and Cavanaugh leading him in another. 

He’d gone through a repeat of the previous day’s testing, answering questions about how he felt and what had happened in the hotel room while under the influence while he was poked and prodded by a nurse. Marcus answered everything, doing his best to give straightforward and simple answers. He hadn’t wanted to reveal anything but facts because it didn’t feel right to talk in detail about what had happened without you present. 

And once the initial questions and examinations were over, the secondary ones began. 

Those felt much more routine, and even though Marcus was more than certain he didn’t need to take precautions when it came to anything getting shared between you, he let the nurse perform her duties. The woman took even more samples and offered treatment in the form of preventative medication, though she was clinical about it - putting Marcus at ease.. 

The last thing that happened before he was escorted to the conference room was a mandatory hydration IV. Marcus planned on using the down time to think through everything, preparing himself for what came next. Instead, he dozed off in the chair as the liquid flowed from the hanging bag and into his arm, cheek resting on the palm of his right hand. 

Scott had assured him that you’d be joining him as soon as you finished your own examinations before excusing himself to confer with the DEA. But in the ten minutes Marcus was alone and waiting, the silence seemed to stretch on and on. I hope she’s alright. I hope - 

“Brought you breakfast.” He heard your voice when the door opened, Marcus’ head whipping toward the sound. “I made them go and get us something that wasn’t from the cafeteria.” You had a bag over one arm and a cardboard drink carrier in the other - two cups of coffee nestled inside. “Banana chocolate chip pancakes with cinnamon and extra butter and syrup for you, and -”

My favorite. “Did you make them go to Ted’s?” Marcus reached for the containers, his eyes locked on the bandage on your inner arm, though he was smiling. She had an IV too. “Because -”

“I did.” You slid into the seat next to his, turning to stare at the man. “It’s the least they could do for us, right? I swear I’ve never been poked and prodded so much before.” Tapping on the lid of one coffee cup, you raised a brow. “This one’s yours. Not sure caffeine is the right call after an IV to rehydrate us, but … fuck it, right?” 

He grinned and reached for the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. “Shit, Scully, how’d you have time to think of doing this? It was go-go-go for me, up until the IV.” 

“Same here.” You wet your lips, picking up a piece of toast. “But as soon as they told me I had 40 minutes to sit, I brought up the fact that you and I hadn’t really had a chance to eat since yesterday afternoon. I think Deanna’s assistant is afraid of me, because that girl ran out of the room almost as fast as I gave her our order.” Afraid of you? Hmm. 

“Thank you for thinking of me.” He bit into the pancakes, barely holding back a quiet moan of satisfaction. “And thank you for thinking of Ted’s, because this is perfect.” 

“You uh…” Clearing your throat, you lowered your chin and took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again. “You said once while we were out with the team that after a night of good sex, there was nothing like pancakes to set the tone for the next day.” Holy shit, she remembered that? That was just while we were all hanging out and having some beers. I didn’t even know she heard me. “I guess I just sort of assumed that last night was good, and -”

“Hey.” He set his fork down and reached for you, settling one hand on your forearm. “You assumed right.” Marcus squeezed, saying your name. “Very right. And I know that we didn’t really get to talk earlier, but after we get out of here, maybe we could -”

The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from you, and the sound of your sharp inhale was paired with the drop of his stomach as a third person stepped in. No fucking way. “Scott told me to come in here and wait. I’m here for the debrief.” 

“Why?” He frowned as he spoke, leaving his hand in place on your arm. “Why are you -” 

Teresa’s eyes moved between both of you, one corner of her mouth twitching at the placement of his fingers. “Because I heard a lot of what happened in the hallway, and they’re covering their bases, Marcus. You know how these things go. Better to be safe than sorry and let me know what I’m allowed to say.” 

You were quiet, but he felt the way your muscles tensed, your back going straight. Of course this is … shit. He gave you another squeeze and then let go, returning to his food. There was a tension in the room that was almost as palpable as it had been the day before when there was glass between you and Teresa, and as he chewed through his meal, Marcus looked everywhere but at the dark haired woman across the table from where you sat. 

“Well this is awkward.” You pushed your to-go container away a few minutes later, crossing your arms and leaning back. “I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced, Teresa.” Marcus watched helplessly as you shifted on your chair and then leaned forward, arching a brow. “But Marcus has told me so much about you I feel like I know all of the most important things.” 

He didn’t know what you were doing - or what you hoped to accomplish - by making conversation with the other woman. He knew where you stood when it came to your feelings about Teresa, and actually had a better idea than he had only hours earlier. But that doesn’t mean that I want her to be a part of this, or have her feel like she - “Marcus does like to talk.” Teresa was eyeing you, lips set into a smirk. “But he didn’t say anything about you yesterday.” 

It cut through him - but the woman was right, even though he hadn’t kept you from her for the reasons Teresa was implying. Fuck. Fuck, she’s going to ruin it again. And after last night if that happens, I’ll….  I don’t know what I’ll do. He sipped his coffee again, coughing quietly when you spoke up. “Nah, I imagine he wouldn’t have. We got into a fight over the weekend, so we weren’t actually talking yesterday morning.” 

“Didn’t seem like that yesterday. He got your voicemail and we came right over.” She frowned, looking between the two of you. Marcus opened his mouth to reply but you beat him to it, the man watching as you lifted your coffee and took a long sip. 

“It’s complicated.” You set the cup down, one fingertip tracing over the lid’s edge. “But you’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” You were toeing the line - and he would have been lying if he tried to say it didn’t turn him on to watch the razor thin patience you had for the woman play out in real time. 

It wasn’t all on Teresa - and he knew that you knew it, but he wasn’t going to intervene after so many months of you suffering quietly from a distance. I want to see where this goes. “Look.” She sighed, head shaking back and forth a few times. “I tried to call you a few times last night. I know we didn’t leave things in the best place yesterday, Marcus. I’m sure you were stressed because of whatever was in that room, so…” She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip. “So maybe after the debrief, we can go somewhere and talk? Finish the conversation we were having about -”

“No.” He flattened both hands on the tabletop, scoffing. “Teresa, I was stressed yesterday but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said. In fact…” He risked a glance over at you, the tiny smile on your face knowing. “It was more true than you realize. I think after this -” he gestured to the room, finally looking at Teresa. “I don’t think we’ll need to say anything else to each other again.” 

The words affected her - he’d give her that. He could see the hurt in her eyes, watched as her lips parted in surprise and she recoiled slightly in her chair. But I don’t feel… I don’t feel bad. At all. “Can we do this alone, please? Not with someone else in the -”

“Oh, just feel free to pretend like I’m not even here.” You laughed, waving one hand in the air. “It’s what I’m going to do about you as soon as Scott and Cavanaugh come in and we start this.” He barely contained his laughter, Marcus’ chest going tight at the easy way you were responding to the woman - like you had nothing to lose. I guess she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter what Teresa thinks of her, and she knows that I … 

“Well that’s rude.” Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “Marcus and I are -”

The opening door startled all three of you, and as your SSA and Scott stepped into the room, you went quiet. Good, let’s get this over with. “Good morning, you two.” Cavanaugh dropped into a seat at one end of the table, folding his hands together. “Feeling alright?” 

Marcus wondered what the other man knew, and when he caught his eye, the glint of amusement there told him that Cavanaugh was well aware of what the drug’s properties were. Great. “Yeah. Tired, but yeah. Feels kind of like a hangover but without the headache?”

“It does.” You agreed, reaching for your coffee. “We fell asleep early last night, too - and didn’t wake up until this morning. You’d think we’d be well rested.” Spinning your cup in a slow circle, you bit your lower lip. “How long will this last, Scott? Deanna said you’d give us all the details.”

“Feeling tired is normal.” Scott nodded, sliding folders across the table to you, Marcus and Teresa before he and Scott opened the remaining two. “Even if you do nothing to alleviate the symptoms of ingestion, people have said that they were tired after taking it, just because their bodies were in hyperdrive for so many hours.”

“Symptoms of ingestion?” Teresa wet her lips. “What -”

“Agents, before we start, I wanted to let you know that you’re off for the rest of the week.” Cavanaugh said your names, one hand slicing through the air. “And that means until Monday. Fully paid, since this isn’t a punishment, it’s just to make sure that any lingering effects aren’t going to keep you from doing your jobs.” Because they think we might just jump each other in the field?

He opened his mouth to argue, but Marcus realized that he didn’t want to. If we’re both off, then that means … You turned your head slowly toward him, a smile on your lips. That means we can spend more time together. “Got it, boss.” You nodded at Marcus before returning your attention to the other man, one finger tapping on the unopened envelope. “Do we get to keep these?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Scott spoke, sighing. “The existence of this is being kept classified for right now. We can’t keep it off the streets entirely, but keeping people from knowing about it is important. As both of you know, the effects are powerful. And even though it takes some time to kick in, they linger.” He was nodding as Scott continued, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. They do. “The information will be available for you to access on an encrypted network, but the actual paperwork we need to keep, we just wanted you to have something to look at today if you wanted to.” 

“Ok, but what does it do? All I saw was the two of them getting irritable. It didn’t seem … that bad. Is it dangerous?” Teresa was looking between the DEA agent and the papers, frowning. “Lapis? What does that even mean?”

“Might want to use layman’s terms, Scott.” You took a deep breath. “Skip the scientific bullshit and just get to the truth. Make it a little easier for everyone to understand.” 

“What is said in this room is classified information, first and foremost.” Scott looked around the table, making eye contact with each of you. “Agents, you’ve given us separate reports, and have already covered a lot, but there are some things that I’ll need to ask before you go, just to tie up loose ends.” Sure. Understandable. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “Ms. Lisbon, th-”

“She’s married. Her last name is Jane.” Marcus barely held back a snort of laughter at your interjection, watching as you pointed. “See? Ring on her finger.” You were antagonizing the woman, and Marcus couldn’t say he was surprised. She’s not normally like this. I wonder … I wonder why now. 

“My apologies. Mrs. Jane.” Scott pressed his lips together. “The drug that was concealed in the paintings is a new variation of a recreational drug that is used in a variety of ways. As best as we know, it was developed to be a tool for less… intensive interrogation.” Interrogation? He snuck a look at you, taking in the confused expression you wore. “There are two components to it that interact, and one of them is… the easiest way to describe it is a truth serum. But it’s a little more complicated than that, because it doesn’t exactly force the truth, it just lowers your capacity to reason and results in … well, not holding back.” 

“So basically, you say the first thing that comes to mind.” He nodded, Teresa eyeing Marcus before turning her attention to you. “Yeah, that definitely happened.” 

“It did.” Scott laughed, pointing at you. “And since you inhaled smaller doses for longer before Marcus entered the room, that part was something that we saw while you were still in there together.” You nodded twice, though you stayed quiet. He risked a glance at Teresa and saw that the woman’s attention was still focused on you, her brows knit. She has no idea where this is going.  “The other component of Lapis is a drug that increases sex drive and raises the body’s level of arousal to the point where it becomes almost impossible to ignore. However, from what we’ve learned and observed, the impact is more potent toward someone there’s already a connection with.” 

He heard her gasp, Marcus watching as Teresa lifted a hand to cover her mouth. He expected her to turn her attention to him, but instead the woman still stared at you, the look in her eyes hard. Why is she angry? It’s not like this was planned. “We talked about it last night, Scott.” You reached over, touching Marcus’ hand. “And we’re both curious about why this combination is … what’s the point of mixing those two things together?”

“Think about it.” Cavanaugh leaned forward, both palms flat on the table. “People already tend to be a little more uninhibited and honest during sex, especially with people they’re involved with. But what if that was magnified? What if that honesty lasted?” Marcus’ frown deepened, the man shifting in his chair. We were honest between the sex, too. And before … and … after. So - 

“Oh, shit.” You stood, pushing away from the table and crossing your arms. “People might not even realize that they’ve been drugged. And if they do, they’ll just think someone … I don’t know, roofied them or something. Marcus and I were just talking without thinking before we spoke, and it felt normal up until we got into the room … oh, shit.” 

“So this is how criminals get people to talk. It’s how they’ll be able to find out secrets and what people are hiding, or what they really think.” He scoffed. “Slip someone the powder, or -”

“We’ve actually seen it in pill form, too. It’s the same color blue, and that’s how we knew what it was.” Scott held up a hand. “But both of you are right. Taking it, you’re not in any real physical danger from the drug itself. Yeah, it’ll make things … interesting for a while, but you both said that by the time you’d exhausted yourselves, you were able to go to sleep. You were in control of yourselves the whole time, you just couldn’t stop with the honesty.” Or the sex. 

“So you’re telling me…” Teresa began, her tone full of disbelief. “That the FBI put the two of you up in a thousand dollar a night hotel room just so that you could have hours of sex?” She rolled her eyes. “You said that you were fighting yesterday morning, and the two of you aren’t even together. Is that a joke?” 

“No, Teresa, it’s not.” Marcus leaned forward. “What was the alternative? Letting us go home? Telling us to get into our cars and drive somewhere? Having us spend the night in the clean room, with a wall of glass windows and fifteen cameras?” He pointed at the door, the anger rising in his chest. “We were drugged on FBI property, and putting us up in that hotel was the best way that they could keep an eye on us and make sure -”

“So they watched you? Did they film it?” She smiled, but there was no joy in it, the woman closing her eyes briefly. “Was there someone in the room with you to make sure you were alright?” 

“No. But I’m sure they were somewhere in the building.” You sounded calm and when Marcus looked over at you, he saw that you had a hand on your hip, the other arm hanging loosely at your side. “Right? If we’d needed you for anything, all we had to do was call.” 

“Exactly.”  He took a breath. “There was no reason to stay with you. You’re both adults, and you understood the risks of staying in the same suite while under the influence. But if either of you had reacted badly to the Lapis, we would have been there in minutes to get you to a hospital.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Long story short, the two of you are part of a very small group of people that have been exposed to this drug - that we know of. Your reaction to it is in line with what others that we’ve encountered have experienced, though certain responses were … heightened. And getting to observe you in the beginning stages of effect and to interview you again today has helped. So has having such a large quantity remaining to study.” Good. At least something worthwhile for them came out of this. 

“And me?” Teresa tilted her head to the side. “What does me knowing this do?” 

“Mrs. Jane, to be honest, if you hadn’t been in that hallway last night, you wouldn’t need to be here today.” Cavanaugh sighed. “We brought you in here so that you understood what you’d seen, and could give you a chance to ask questions if you had them.” He paused, fingers moving restlessly over the folder on the table. “You weren’t impacted by the drug itself. You didn’t experience what these two did, and when you leave here today, your life won’t be changed in any way.” That’s not quite true. “We take care of our Agents, as you should know, and we wanted to be sure that they had the support they needed. The hotel was close, so it made much more sense than keeping them here or sending them home.” 

He didn’t know why they were explaining things in such detail to the woman. Teresa had already gotten much more of an update than Marcus would have given her, but as the silence stretched, he realized that he didn’t care. “Do you need her in here anymore?” Marcus gestured toward the woman, shaking his head. “Because you said that you had more questions for us, and I’m assuming it’s based on what happened in the room.” He took a breath, wetting his lips. “I’d rather she not be here for any of that.”

“But -” Teresa flipped open the envelope, averting her eyes to scan the pages. “You haven’t explained anything. It’s a truth serum sex drug, so …” She flipped through them, looking up at Scott. “What if only one person takes it? How would they react to being around someone else that didn’t?”

“Well we can’t answer that, Teresa, because both Marcus and I got dosed.” You sighed, lowering your head. “All we know is what happens when two people take it.” 

“You sure that truth part wore off? Marcus seems normal, but you’re being extremely -” 

“I don’t need a truth serum to be honest with you, Teresa. I’ll do it just because I don’t like you..” Leaning forward, you propped your chin on one hand. Ok, seeing her like this is … damn. He wanted to kiss you - wanted to grab you and pull you back into his lap and wrap his arms around you, and three other people - including his ex - being two feet away didn’t change that. “And you and Marcus aren’t anything anymore, especially since he just made it pretty clear that after today, he doesn’t -”

“The data will be available to you on a closed network, Mrs. Jane. We’ve told you the basics of what we do know, but like with any new drug or substance that we’re made aware of, it’s going to take time to learn everything about it.” Cavanaugh stood, interrupting the two of you and crossing his arms. “But I agree with Marcus. I don’t think you need to be in here for the last of their debriefing, so if you want to come with me, we’ll let them finish.” No, wait. 

“Wait a second.” He took a deep breath, eyes locked on his former fiancee’s. “Can I have a few minutes with Teresa before she goes?” Marcus’ heart was pounding, but he’d never been more certain of anything in his life. “I’m sorry to be a pain in the ass, and I’m sure you’re on a schedule, but -” 

“Of course. We can go into the hall and let you have the room.” He looked away from his ex and at you, not knowing what to expect. But you looked hopeful, the set of your shoulders straight. And without thinking, he reached a hand out. 

“Marcus?” You blinked, stepping forward and taking it. “Are -”

“I meant it.” He didn’t look away. “All of it. I just need… to do this.” 

“Of course.” You squeezed his hand as you leaned down, kissing his cheek. “I meant it too.” When you straightened up and let go, you grabbed for your folder before following the other two men from the room. 

After the door closed behind you, leaving him sitting across the table from the second woman he’d thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, Marcus reached for his almost empty cup of coffee. “What do you want to say to me, Teresa?” 

She pushed away from the table, gripping the edge and then glancing up. “I thought … I thought that coming here, we’d talk about what happened. I thought that we’d have time to really… catch up.” Catch up? That’s what you thought? “But now it seems like you just want to get rid of me to get back to -” She pointed at the doorway. “Her.” 

“You mean get back to my life?” He laughed, running a hand through his hair and then over his jaw, fingers catching on the stubble there. “Teresa, a couple years ago, I thought you were going to be my life.” He knew that once he started speaking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Say what you need to say, but don’t … don’t go overboard. “I couldn’t wait to get here with you and start that. Start … fresh. But because of what you did? Because of how badly it fucked me up? I couldn’t do any of it.” 

“I didn’t -” She scoffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “The way you reacted wasn’t my fault. I thought you’d understand.” Yeah, you thought. 

“The way I reacted was my fault, and I know that. But the way you treated me? The way you left me for another man ten minutes after accepting my proposal and agreeing to move out here with me? The way you didn’t even try to explain?” He slammed his coffee cup onto the table, the top coming dislodged and sliding slightly askew. “You really think that calling and saying “Hey, Marcus, I’m not coming. This case made me realize a lot of things. I hope … I hope you don’t hate me” was the right thing to do? I figured it was Jane, but had to hear about it from Fischer.” 

“It was hard, Marcus. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about you, I just couldn’t …” 

“Then you shouldn’t have agreed. You shouldn’t have led me on. Dating is one thing, and I understand keeping things casual, but the commitment?  I was an idiot for letting it happen the way it did, and an even bigger idiot for thinking that I could actually compare to him in the long run.” Marcus wet his lips, finally looking away and toward the room’s windows, which were completely covered by closed blinds. “I shouldn’t have had to compare, and I know that now. But it took me way too long to get to that point.” He pointed at where you’d been sitting, head shaking back and forth. “Yeah, Teresa. I want to get back to her. I want to make up for all the lost time I spent not letting myself believe that I could actually have what I wanted.” 

He took a breath, thinking. There was more he could have said - letting the anger he’d felt for so many months seep into his voice entirely, or raising his voice like his father had done so many times with his mother. But that won’t help. It never does. “I won’t apologize for something that I… that I don’t regret.” 

“I know.” He smiled. “I stopped expecting an apology a long time ago. All I wanted from this was for you to let me explain. I needed to know that you understand that this is it. We’re not friends. We’re not anything, not anymore.” He settled back in the chair, rolling out his shoulders. “Not that you care, but … I’m actually kind of glad the Lapis happened. It was the push I needed.” 

“With me?” 

“No, not with you. With her.” Not everything is about you. “But I don’t need to tell you this, I need to tell Scully, so…” Say goodbye. “So if you’ve got nothing to say, then I’m good, because the sooner we finish this debriefing and I get out of here, the better.” 

He wondered if she’d say anything - wondered if the woman would respond to what he’d laid out. But the look in her eyes didn’t change, and when Teresa stood, reaching for her bag, Marcus knew that it didn’t really matter. It never did. It never should have. She fidgeted for a few seconds, the woman’s frown deepening and her jaw working like she wanted to say something. 

But she didn’t, letting out a breath and then turning toward the door. Teresa paused with her hand on the doorknob, turning to look back at him. “I have a daughter, Marcus. Patrick and I, we…” He felt nothing at the admission, though he thought back to his last conversation with the other man - when he’d asked what Patrick was offering Teresa in the future. Good for you. “I could never regret her.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to. Congratulations.” He fell silent, watching as Teresa bit her lip and curled her fingers into a loose fist before relaxing it. 

“I… goodbye, Marcus.” She opened the door and then walked through it, pulling it shut behind her. Once he was alone in the empty room, he let this breath out in a rush, covering his face with both hands. The only thing he felt was relief, a weight finally lifted off of his shoulders. It’s done. It’s over. 

A knock at the door startled him, Marcus’ head shooting up as you peeked your head in, a soft smile on your lips. Let’s start over. “Marcus?”

“Sorry, nobody in here but the FBI’s most unwanted.” He kept a straight face but you didn’t, the smile turning into a grin as you stepped fully into the room, making your way over to where he sat. 

“Unwanted? What do I have to do to change your mind about that?” Stopping as you reached him, you took a shallow breath. “You alright?” 

“I’m great.” Tilting his chin up, he nodded, . “I’ve been waiting for that for a long time.” You murmured the word good back at him and then settled back into the chair you’d vacated, angling it to face him. “But I’ve also been waiting for this.” 

“For what?” Narrowing your eyes, you bit your lip. “A -”

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” Scooting closer, he reached for your hand, letting his fingers trail over your knuckles.  “I’ve got some unexpected time off of work, so we can make it a late one…” 

“Yeah.” The smile was back, your eyes lighting up as you leaned in, your lips pressing against his for a split second. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

— 

Thank you again for reading.  Tag list reblog coming soon. 

[nikolizzie]

How to make friends in the IRL Magical Girl Community

Something I’ve noticed after being in the magical girl community for around 7-8 years now is people not knowing where to find other magical girls! As someone with many magical girl friends I talk to pretty much daily I think I might be qualified to help you out!

First and foremost, join places like discord servers that are specifically centered around magical girls. While solely posting to a magical girl account on tumblr or wattpad can help you're more likely to only have people like or comment on your post rather then having actual conversations. Thats where discord servers come in! Not only can you post all the same things you would already be posting but you can also actively interact with people outside of likes and comments!

"But Lizzie!!! Where am I supposed to find discord servers!!!" I recommend searching terms like "Irl magical girl" on disboard or looking for people on tumblr or wattpad who have promoted magical girl servers in the past! In fact, I'll tell you one right now!

This video is sponsered by Mahou Planet-! /j But seriously I can't recommend MP enough! It is one of the most (if not THE most) active magical girl discord servers and is (in my experience) the friendliest by FAR. I'm not gonna list out every benefit of Mahou Planet (you can check out @mahouplanetofficial for that!) but one thing i DO want to mention is the personalized channels.

If you're reading this post, im gonna take a guess and say that you've probably struggled with joining a server but being to nervous or intimidated to start talking to everyone. That's where Mahou Planet's pernsonalized channels come in to help! As soon as you join you can request a personal channel that you can talk about anything you want in (within the server rules!) People who share you're interest might stop by you're channel to talk to you and its a quick and easy way to get comfortable in the server with less of the anxiety!

Okay back to you're regularly scheduled program.

Although earlier I mentioned that solely posting on tumblr or wattpad wont help you befriend people alone, I do think its a very useful tool to help meet new people. For example, MP only recently started promoting on tumblr and has already gained over 10 members in just 2 days. If you were to make your own server (whether it be on discord or something similar) promoting it on tumblr, wattpad, or something similar can really help boost your members and in turn meet many new magical girl friends!!

That's all I can think of for now! If you noticed any spelling mistakes no you didn't. Now go forth into the world and make some magical girl friends !!!!! (and join mahou planet its very cool)

feel free to send in asks if you have more specific questions and i’ll do my best to help you out :]

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a match-up for Harry Potter! Specifically the Marauders Era.

Female, She/They, Pansexual

Plus size!, but more thighs (and boobs) than anything, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, i have glasses,

My personality is loving, patient, (surprisingly) smart and good at classes, but that's probably bc I'm determined and work hard- I can be really sassy though, nurturing, I have to stick to a semi strict schedule, forgiving, and I guess caring, also im an ambivert!! (I just kinda looked up personality traits and went with what I thought fit me. Bear with me.)

Likes: Reading, writing, SWEATERS, school, candles, blankets, sour candy, chocolate, sunflowers, sunsets, the moon

Dislikes: When my schedule gets completely destroyed, sudden and really big change, people who chew with their mouth open, feeling really embarrassed and like everyone is judging me, olives,

Extra fun facts: I have chronic headaches, bad knee problems in my right knee 😍, if I have an assignment I will always do way too much for it

Hope that's okay and you're okay with doing this, and I hope i did it right!!! Sorry for any spelling mistakes :)

Annos, please never apologize for spelling errors, lol. I don't know if you've read my posts, but I can not spell either. I am incredibly reliant on Grammarly, and my partner makes fun of me for it regularly.

Also, does anyone else pretend/feel like that lady from Mulan when they do these matchups? No, just me. Aight, I'll be in the corner now.

~~~~~MATCH UP~~~~~

Annon, I must match you with the sweetest boy of the tricksters.

Remus Lupin

~~Headcanons~~

This man would bake you and buy you the best chocolates. He will curb your sweet tooth like no tomorrow.

He respects a girl who is not afraid to be herself, and if anyone tries to put you down and make you get in your head, he's not scared to be a big bad wolf ( see what I did there )

He loves it when you can put up with his three headaches. Wait, he means friends.

He would want to study with you all the time, so much so that James, Sirius, and Peter complain about missing their friend.

MANS WOULD WEAR MATCHING SWEATERS PROVE ME WRONG

Remus strikes me as the guy who will get you flowers just because, so expect to be showered with your favorites. However, he always forgets that he should buy you flowers on a holiday.

Though he is afraid of the full moon, watching the skies with you any other time has become an enjoyable pastime, especially to see you light up.

When he has to hide away for the full moon, he makes you a goodie basket to 'remember' him by till he comes back.

If you are ever feeling unwell or hurt, he will carry you up to his dorm and make you comfy in his bed. He will get you all the fixings to cure your ailments. I'm talking hot water bottles, heavy blankets, blackout curtains, water, pain medicine, and, of course, cuddles.

~~~~~Blurb~~~~~

You sat in the library waiting for Remus to arrive for your study date. As you finished your potion essay for him to look over, an exhausted, panting Sirius appeared before you. You looked up at him, amused, "Y/N, I am telling you we need him for Quidditch. Please, please, tell him to skip Hogsmeade this weekend." As Sirius was begging, he got down on his knees.

Around the corner soon came James looking almost as exhausted as the other boy in front of you. You chuckle into your hand, knowing that the Librarian will soon grow tired of the Maurder's antics. "Boys, you know he is his own person, right? What makes you think I have any say." You looked at the boys innocently. With a scoff, Sirius stood, wrapping his arm around James' shoulder. "Y/N, the man is so in love with you that he talks to you in his dreams. Of course, he will listen to you."

Before you could open your mouth again, James and Sirius were on the floor, this time due to a perfectly timed nudge to the back of their knees. Remus looked up at you and smiled softly, "Hi, my sweet. I brought you some treats." Placing down your candy, which he knew you favored, he sat across from you, ready to study.

James popped up from the floor, "Look, Y/N, he's even wearing a matching jumper with you! We have asked to match as a group of friends for ages. You can't tell me this man isn't whipped." You laughed at the remark, watching Remus nudge the back of James' knee again, causing him to collapse.

~~~~~EXTRA~~~~~

(You are looking up at the stars with the whole friend group. Your head is placed in Remus' lap. Peter is asleep lounging on the grass. Sirius, James, and Lily are all leaning back, looking at the stars.)

Y/N: Do you think that when the first people watched the stars, they thought they were crazy when they started moving each night.

Sirius: Wait, do the stars move each night?

James: I thought it was the moon that moved.

Lily: Sometimes it amazes me how you two breathe on your own.

Remus: (rubbing his temples, feeling the headache coming on) I'm glad someone else said it.

I hope you enjoy!!

[sakumasmut]

I wish I had horny thoughts to share, but the head is just full of soft Himeru. Both him being soft and being soft with him. Also the fact that his hair must be super soft. I wanna run my fingers through it so bad. Watch him get so sleepy from a bit of physical affection. Dozing off soundly right then and there. From tense to completely boneless in seconds. Good luck getting him to move. But why move at all? Stay on the couch... or bed... snooze a little too. Might as well when used as a pillow by the pile of vaguely human-shaped goo. There's no going anywhere anyway... because no way you'd ever have the heart to wake him, right?

Also (because this is a smut blog after all lol): sleepy sex best sex, I will die on this hill. It'd be really hard to convince him not to get up early (or would it really? If he doesn't have any urgent work... the protest is little more than keeping up appearances...) but once you do? No one is moving - at least not to get up - anytime soon. The sort of day where being awake and asleep blur into one, much like the lines between your bodies blur when he lazily grinds into you... or just cockwarming... spooning... the good stuff.

Semi-related other way of making him relax and melt? Peg him. I wrote half a novel on that for a reason. It needs to happen. He deserves it.

An oddly specific scenario (maybe one day to be written properly) lives rent free in my head about him just coming home exhausted, but the kind of exhaustion and stress that lingers and won't allow him to relax at all. If he feels like it, he gets to vent, whether it's actual verbal complaints or just him sounding generally disgruntled lol But while that helps (as does the aforementioned playing with his hair or giving him a much deserved backrub) instead of passing out with his head resting on your thighs like he usually would from that alone, it's clear the situation calls for more drastic measures. Cue the strap. Maybe he doesn't ask outright, maybe he doesn't even know how badly he needs it himself, but when a completely unintentional touch on his butt (Can't skimp on that! It's part of the back, so it gets rubbed. It's only right. Doesn't matter that he's flat as a board...) provokes such a sweet (not at all a reason to be embarrassed, Meru!) reaction, how could you not? I don't think him the type to be overly inclined to sub regularly, but after a day like that? No thinking for Himeru please and thank you. And just handing over the reins to be fucked silly is certainly the nicest way to ensure that. It's fine to manhandle and order him around a little, he's happy to do as he's told. But make sure to reward him plenty. He works so hard. Better appreciate him.

Lmao okay, never mind. This did end up horny after all. Mission accomplished.

I did contemplate whether to sign off with the emoji I still have claimed since you asked for a sign of life from your anons, but I feel like after this ramble you as well as anyone who's spent more than 5 minutes on the smut side of the enstars x reader fandom knows who wrote this anyway lmao

- @deepersea

I’d be surprised if his hair wasn’t soft to the touch, he’s got a whole makeup and skincare routine, so fancy shampoo and conditioner seem like they’re hand in hand. Definitely something you wanna run your fingers through rather than ruffle up.

Sleepy sex!! always good!! I do think meru isn’t the type to stay in bed too long in the morning, even when he has no work he has a sleep schedule to maintain. but a bit of lazy grinding won’t do any harm, maybe it’ll even wake him up. if you reaaaaally insist on clinging to him, he’s not against sleeping with his cock inside you, pulling you close so that he wakes up to your body warmth embracing him in the best way. though trying to pull out without you noticing is a whole separate thing, maybe it’d be better to wake you up with some thrusting instead…

I fully agree with you when you say pegging could fix some of himeru’s problems. getting him to be vulnerable is hard, but I’d assume if you’re already in a relationship with him he’s got lots of trust in his partner. so, if they want to help him relax, after a stressful day, he’s not going to decline. I imagine during foreplay you can run a finger down his spine and get lovely shudders if not moans from him, so while you’re pegging him, stroking his cock and rubbing circles along his lower back, you’ll probably have him cumming in seconds.

and let me know if you still wanna keep the sign off! I usually delete them if the owner reveals themselves like with crow

[lieblingspulli]

The Embrace : SKZ

W.C: 3.1k

Leeknow x Reader

Summary: Very soft Leeknow hours. Minho is a committed boyfriend, he’ll study what you study! 

A.N: I know it’s unrelated to SKZ but Jimin’s Face album came out and it's honestly sooooo good. Y’all should listen to it 🫣ANYWAYS back to our regularly scheduled program.  Hahaha, I listened to It's Not That Serious by ASTN, You by Vietra and other songs similar to these. It’s not related but the vibe is there. Also got inspired by lots of Renoir paintings and a particular Egon Schiele titled, The Embrace (1917). Enjoy!

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

Minho felt strangely at ease. Here he was, reading, out of all people. Truth be told, Minho was never one to read. He always had something better to do, like practice his dance techniques or go out to eat with his friends. In fact, Minho would probably rather do anything else than read. He just wasn’t a reader. And that’s O.K. That’s what you always told him at least. Minho was never one to read, but for you, he’d do anything. 

You owned hundreds of books. You loved to paint and you loved to talk about being creative. Minho thinks that most of your creativity comes from the books you read. Just thinking about you having fun made Minho relax. Whenever you painted, you loved to have him in your company. You would teasingly beg for him to be your muse, but he settled to be an observationist instead. He loved to just watch you paint, coming up with color combinations he could never have thought of himself. He loved when you got hit with inspiration and ran to your makeshift painting studio (really just the extra bedroom) in order to capture it. 

These days, you were going to school for fine art and you were never really struck with spontaneous ideas. Minho could see this really bummed you out. The studio was always a mess, you never had enough time between assignments and class to clean everything up. Minho would have cleaned it for you, but he was afraid he’d disturb your method of madness. He knew what it was like to have a particular system to feed into your creativity. Every artist liked things a certain way. He thought of all the times he practiced by himself, having a carefully curated schedule of practice to keep his brain alert and ready to dance. To sing. To write. He knew that, out of all people, you’d be the most understanding of this and vice versa. 

These past few weeks had been grueling and seriously draining for you. With critiques coming up, you were always frantically painting. The colors you chose seemed less vibrant to Minho. There was less spark to it. Less love in it. All he wanted to do was wrap you up in support and try anything to make you relaxed again. 

He even forced you to go to the art museum with him to study other paintings, citing it was strictly for school purposes and not actually just to force you out of the studio. He had pushed you along the exhibits, pointing out the few paintings he did recognize. But he felt it wasn’t enough. His lack of knowledge didn’t bridge the gap between the two of you and Minho felt too far away from you to provide you the support you needed. The museum date was still fun, but it didn’t fulfill the goal for either of you two. 

As soon as Minho opened the door after coming back from the museum, you hurried to the studio to survey your latest batch of portraits. Minho huffed in annoyance and got straight to work. Even though he couldn’t paint, at least he could still make the effort to know what went on in that brain of yours.

Without making a huge racket, Minho chose every book you had on art, art history, and art technique. Eyeing the pile, Minho decided it wasn’t enough. He set them aside in a hidden spot and ran to grab his keys and jacket. 

With a quick kiss and goodbye, Minho feigned that he had to run to the store really quickly. You absentmindedly agreed and continued stressing over the lighting perspective in your portrait. He felt bad leaving you in such a dark place by yourself but he had to do it. 

“Bye honey!” Minho yelled as he ran out the door. 

For the next hour, Minho scoured the local library for books he could possibly gather intelligence from and he even bought some reading supplies, like a stupid cat bookmark with googly eyes and reading tabs that had llamas on them. Minho’s confidence was high as he carried his books in the tote bag that the local library gave him in through the front door. As expected, you were still in the studio, this time with a coffee. He peeked into the studio through the doorway and observed you for a second. 

“Babe?” He called. 

“Hm?” He heard you say, but you didn’t turn around. 

“Are you okay?” Minho entered the room and padded over to you before eventually reaching for your shoulders and giving you a small massage. He kissed your shoulder and he felt you loosen up, relieving all the tension in your neck and shoulders. He heard you sigh in defeat. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He whispered and kissed behind your ear. You closed your eyes. 

“I can’t get this stupid painting right Minho. It’s driving me crazy. Batshit crazy!” You raised your voice a little and strained through your frustration. He massaged your shoulders deeply, thinking about how little help he provided. 

“How about I make you dinner then? Let’s take a break.” He tried enticing you out of your chair and gently pushed you to lean back against him. “Sound good?” He kissed the top of your head. You looked up and he saw your glossy eyes, full of frustration, exhaustion, and anxiety. He gently smiled at you. 

“Yea, let’s go.” You whispered as he petted your hair back. 

A couple hours later, you were taking a hot shower and Minho was in bed, beginning to read from his pile of books. He had post-its and a pencil in hand as he flipped through the pages. He was currently studying the history of oil painting. Your favorite medium was oil, so he began with that. 

While you showered, he read. While you painted, he read. While you took naps, he read. Whenever he wasn’t dancing and on tight schedules, with you or comforting you, and cooking, he was reading. Of course, you were so preoccupied with your deadlines, you thought he had just taken up reading as a hobby to wait out your lack of attention towards him. Minho was a sneaky one. 

Luckily, Minho had a great attention span when applied. He could rotate through 3 books at the same time, which improved his reading efficiency. Minho felt like an old man, truth be told. Even the members noticed. He usually brought the smallest book in the pile with him to work and read while he was on breaks. Jisung and Changbin incessantly teased him, but he also had a lot of support from people like Hyunjin who often gave him tips from his own experience. Through this process, Minho rapidly expanded his knowledge of the world of art and its creative processes. 

Although he primarily did this for you, he also gained inspiration for his own creative processes too, using the vivid imagery to evoke certain emotions in his dance and song repertoire. There was a noticeable difference in his demeanor now that he was so focused on his books. Everyone in the group was quite confused at first, but when he explained it to them, they were all gungho on the plan. 

You finally began to become suspicious of Minho’s behavior after you got home one day and really looked at the books on his bedside table for once. You had just changed out of your class painting overalls when you happened to stroll by the bed and drop your hair clip. After picking it up, you made eye contact with his nightly stack of books that he usually read in bed as you got ready for bed. At first glance, the books seemed normal, but then you read the titles out loud. 

Color and light techniques in Oil. Mary Cassatt in Practice. Renoir and Other Masters. Pencil, Pastel and Everything In Between? What?

You flipped through the pages, finding tabs on particular pages, marked with small post-its and even multiple bookmarks, all stupid looking animal bookmarks. You laughed out loud at first. You didn’t know Minho liked art. Usually he was so clueless about it that when you went to museums with him, you often had to explain to him the significance of basic paintings like Monets or Renoirs. What was he doing with advanced painting technique books? 

Unfortunately, Minho was gone for the day, busy with press and recording sessions for his group’s upcoming comeback. You wouldn’t see him until at least 11 p.m. You put the last book down where you found it and began searching the apartment, convinced there was more. As you made your way through the living room, you found two large piles with museum catalogs, art magazines, books and more. You were astonished with the obviously large pile in front of you. Some had post-its on the front cover, marking them finished or for return. You were left with just as much confusion as when you began to look through the books. Was Minho learning this… for you? 

You picked up a particularly interesting looking one called, “Toulouse-Lautrec in Color Study.” It had several chapters on the usage of color and lighting within his paintings. This book seemed to be bought, not borrowed, telling from the way Minho’s writing was scribbled all over the pages. Some were stupid comments, like her face looks gross and others were genuine observations such as the orange of the paper gives his skin a tone without using any extra color, suggest to Y/n? You continued reading through the comments, realizing he was marking these up for you. Almost all the comments were suggestions and notes to convey to you. You started to tear up, knowing that someone who hated to read and hated to study had willingly studied for weeks, gathering knowledge just to understand and help their partner. You gently placed the book back on its pile. 

The sun began to set and you sat on the couch, feeling a headache come on. Not quite sure what to do with this newly acquired information, you ate a bagel and proceeded to take a nap. Your studio sessions at school had worn you out to the bone. Earlier today, your professor recommended a complete overhaul of your portfolio, citing it just lacked that special tonality of color and depth. It frustrated the hell out of you. You groaned and smashed your face into the pillow before slowly succumbing to the sleep you so well deserved. 

-

Minho came home to a dark apartment. Usually it wasn’t loud, but it also wasn’t dark either. He set his stuff down at the doorway and carefully removed his shoes, trying to be quiet. Either you were gone, or asleep, he assumed. Minho walked through the apartment, scanning for any sign of life. When he finally got to the bedroom and peeked in, he found you face down on the bed, not even covered in a blanket. He laughed and carefully climbed into the bed, careful not to jostle you around. As you softly breathed, clearly in dreamland, he observed your fluttering eyelashes and your slightly parted lips. Your skin glowed in the soft lamp light. Your hair softly was pushed behind your ear. He adored when you looked relaxed, it made you look like an angel. 

Recalling that you had class today, he carefully got off the bed and headed over to the kitchen to prepare a light dinner. As he fished the ingredients out of the fridge, Minho hummed a soft tune. He thought about how much he admired your tenacity to continue your art as he cut his veggies. Minho dreamily thought of you and him in the future, in a house, with cats and maybe a kid. He sighed, hoping he could relieve your stress. 

When you opened your eyes, you blearily made eye contact with the stack of books on Minho’s side. As you blinked, you remembered your findings. The tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them and sluggishly propped yourself up, still tired from the day’s work. Although most of the time, this was simply exhaustion from all the work you’ve been putting into your art. You heard some clinking from the kitchen and recognized Minho’s humming through the silence of the bedroom. 

The apartment was warm as you trudged through the kitchen doorway. Minho immediately looked up at you and smiled. You gazed lovingly at him, in his kiss the cook apron and his teddy bear kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty.” Minho snickered. 

“Oh stop it.” You felt the words coming thick out your throat, still not used to talking quite yet. “How was work?” You asked before sitting at the island. Minho grunted in response. You took that as not good. 

“Choreo got changed for some performances and it didn’t go well. It was the first day of rehearsing these changes. Felix kicked my shin. Jisung bumped into Chan. Changbin is Changbin.” He scoffed. You giggled at the thought of Jisung running into Chan. 

“What did Changbin do to you?” You laughed. Minho glared at you. You put your hands up in innocence. “I take it back.” Minho chuckled and turned back to his sizzling pan. 

“How was your meeting today in the studio?” He asked behind his back. Now it was your turn to grunt. Minho raised his eyebrow even though you couldn’t see his face. 

“Oh?”  

“Yea, my portfolio basically got dumped in the trash.” 

“Oh no, did Mr. Fuckface say that?” 

“Yea, he said it didn’t have that ‘spark’ or ‘depth.’ ” You airquoted and chuckled bitterly. “I think it’s the colors. I just can’t get them right. The tones aren’t matching up or creating the depth of shadows I usually can do.” You sighed and leaned forward to rest your head on your hand. Minho poured the pan’s contents into a bowl and placed the pan down before turning around to look at you. He studied your posture and face. 

“Maybe it’s the stress.” He suggested lightly. You looked up at him and gave him a face. He shrugged and wiped his hands on the towel. “Baby, you spend all day cooped up in that bedroom, trying to will out a painting that’s not there. I can see and feel the stress radiating off of you.” 

“Minho, I have deadlines to meet.” You defended yourself. 

“Y/n, you’re burnt out.” He countered and served two portions of the food he made. You grumbled a thank you when he set the plate in front of you and sat across from you. Minho reached out for your hand and you obliged. His thumb rubbed circles into your palm and you stared at his hand. 

“I love you, you know that right?” Minho said. He continued to rub circles. Your mouth flattened  to form a line. 

“I love you too Minho.” You sighed and felt your throat close up with emotion. 

“Baby, I think you should rest for a while. You’re clearly burnt out. Let’s do something fun, go somewhere cool. I just want you to relax.” Minho’s voice tightened. If you began to cry, he would too. It was a domino effect. Minho continued. 

“You inspire me, you know. I love what you do. You work so hard, it makes me so proud to be called your boyfriend. It makes me want to create just like you do.” He lovingly gazed at you and you kept eye contact with him. 

“You’re the idol here though.” You strained to talk. You felt defeated, honestly. By the lack of confidence in your work and by the mush of ideas in your brain. Then you remembered the books. This cheered you up considerably. You continued to listen to Minho speak. 

“I know it’s hard right now, but I want to help you more. I want to pitch ideas to you and observe and help. I-” He hesitated with his words. “I just want to be there with you when you feel it’s too hard to keep going. I know I can do it.” His voice wavered. You wiped a tear from your eye. 

“Hey, let’s not cry.” He laughed. You laughed in response. 

“You’re actually the most angelic person ever Minho. You read all those books just to help me?” Minho’s eyes widened, caught in the spotlight. He blushed and his ears got red before he looked down at his plate. He shyly smiled at himself, nodding and looking up. “Yea, I just wanted to be able to help you more than I could have before. I felt limited. Dumb.” He rubbed his ears. Your eyes widened and you leaned forward to grab his other hand. 

“Hey, Minho. You are not dumb. You are intelligent and kind and terribly creative. It drives me crazy how smart you are. Don’t say that.” You held both his hands in yours. “Baby. Seriously, you inspire me so much.” Minho giggled shyly. The apartment was silent. 

“Did you seriously do all that for me?” You whispered, as if there were people around. He nodded. “Yeah.” 

Your jaw dropped and he smiled widely. 

“You’re crazy and I love you so much for it.” You kissed his knuckles. Minho’s neck got even more red than before. 

“Come here.” You got up and he followed in suit. You wrapped his firm arms around your shoulders and yours snaked around his waist. Minho allowed you to do whatever you wanted with him, he was all yours to keep. He listened to your soft breathing as he gazed into your eyes and lips. He melted right into your arms and held you tight. 

Not long after, he heard sniffles and felt your chest constrict sporadically. Minho gently rubbed your back and swayed, letting you cry your frustrations out. Little did he know, you weren’t just crying out of frustration, but out of so much love. You felt what it was to actually want to work harder, knowing that even though things were hard, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Minho kissed your head and you squeezed his shirt in your hands. His strong arms held you tight. 

Nothing could compare to the ethereal feeling Minho felt in his heart, being held like this and feeling the warmth of the apartment you two had made a home together. He absolutely adored everything about you. He wasn’t ready to let you go quite yet. 

“I love you Minho.” Your whispers were muffled by his chest. He sniffled. “I love you too Y/n. I always will.”

-

[theelispace]

The 12 Worst Things of New Jersey (The State I live in)

1. Would it kill you to say "please"?

Chivalry and etiquette are foreign concepts to many New Jerseyans. And it’s fair to assume that on any given day, you’ll encounter an impatient, impolite, disrespectful or downright nasty human-being who shares your lovely Garden State. Not every resident is a hollering, boorish brute, but take a roadtrip to the American south and you’ll realize that the stereotypes about northeasterners being rude are pretty much true.

2. Our traffic mimics "Mad Max"

Infuriating traffic makes sense for our most-densely-populated state. But does everyone have to be such an impatient, over-aggressive maniac? And don’t even start with the maddening array of jughandles and traffic circles.

3. NJ Transit's cruel tricks

To plan your day with the notion that NJ Transit's train or bus will arrive on schedule is to also account for bouts of rage as your pickup becomes delayed — and then canceled altogether. How could it get worse? Oh yeah, how about a crumbling infrastructure?

4. Our eternal civil war

Want to start a meaningless argument at your next dinner party? Ask the table “Where’s the line between North and South Jersey?” and then sit back as everyone spouts a meaningless opinion. Here’s the thing: There are no definitive, state-slicing barriers now, and there never will be. Let it go. (Plus, if we don’t unite, how will we ever conquer Delaware?)

5. And another thing ... our food battles

The pork roll vs. taylor ham discussion is worthy of its own slaughter. The stupid box says Taylor pork roll, people! Both sides are correct. Just let us enjoy our nitrate-soaked meat circles in peace. The same goes for subs/hoagies, Italian ice/water ice and sprinkles/jimmies. A state divided by its snacks is a state on the brink of collapse.

6. The soul-crushing property taxes

This gripe is based purely on fact: New Jersey boasts the highest property taxes in America, by far. The in-state average is now above $8,000 per household. Alabama, and its median property tax rate of $398, sounds awesome right about now.

7. The Pulaski Skyway

Between the merciless potholes, narrow lanes and hairpin exits, the dreary Pulaski feels more like the key in a Batman villain’s plot for Gotham-wide destruction that a structure that still exists in the 21st Century.

8. That wretched Turnpike smell

Anyone who regularly passes by Exit 13 on the Turnpike, and the nearby Linden Cogeneration Plant, already shares this grievance. The intense sulfur stench is especially putrid in warmer weather — coming soon! Though New Jersey is often unfairly mocked for its smells, it’s hard to defend this one.

9. Jersey Shore headaches

A day trip to our beloved surf and sand should surely be a serene occasion. But between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the traffic bottlenecking into the area is inescapable. To park, one must choose to shell out for an overpriced lot, or circle endlessly. Once on the beach, you endure every other frustrated family in its loudest, most obnoxious state. There’s just too many of us — we should try an odd-even system, ala the ‘73 oil crisis.

10. The Jersey meatheads

Are New Jersey’s drink-slugging, muscular buffoons different from the rest of the world’s? Yes. It goes back to the rudeness aspect — much of our population already has the tendency to morph into an inconsiderate jerk at any moment. Add in the misguided sense of entitlement that comes with not being able to touch your own shoulders, and you have the bombastic Jersey meathead, whose sole purpose is to ruin your night at the bar, club, or concert.

11. Our lousy customer service

Why are New Jersey’s service and retail employees all stationed behind a wall of indifference. In supermarkets and convenience stores — anywhere where you encounter a cashier — there’s a good chance you’ll be told to have a nice day, though it’s blatantly obvious they couldn’t care less. And why do New Jersey restaurants get so bent out of shape about separate checks? It almost always leads to a better overall tip!

12. It's us against the world

What other state’s residents need to constantly protect themselves from punchlines and mockery as soon as the cross into foreign lands? If you’re in California and you say “I’m from New Jersey,” don’t you immediately feel like as though a cloud of judgement has rolled in? Sure, we defend our spot and debunk the stereotypes, but a lifetime on watch becomes exhausting.

13. Why do we stay?

Well, have you tried the pizza here? But seriously, beneath all this quibbling, New Jersey is a special place, where many folks are willing to live. Our traffic and crowds are proof of that. And despite its flaws, we love this crazy land.

Oh, and did I mention the pizza?

Okay which is worse

New Jersey or Florida?

[blackboujeebeauty]

Sis, You Need A Mental Health Day: 5 Signs That You're Overdue

Taking care of yourself mentally, emotionally, and physically is the highest form of self-love. When you're feeling stressed or overwhelmed, it can be tough to remember that your mental health is just as important as your physical health when getting caught up in the motions of life. If you're experiencing any of these five signs then Sis it's time for a mental health day!

Emotional Distress

Emotional distress occurs when you experience an extreme level of unpleasant emotions that affect your thought process, decisions & routines.

Emotional distress can manifest in many ways, including worrying about things that are not real or circumstances that are out of your control. It can also include feeling like you cannot cope with the demands of your life, or feeling like you have lost control over some aspect of your life.

If you're feeling this way, the first step is to acknowledge what is happening and where these feelings are rooted. You may not be aware of it, but stress can lead to a number of symptoms in your body—from headaches and insomnia to anxiety and depression. If you feel any of these symptoms, it's time for a timeout!

Sleep Deprivation

If you're not able to get your beauty rest the way you need to due to your mind evading your peace then we gotta fix that. Sleep deprivation can cause an array of problems, from poor health to mood issues. Sleep is important for our health and well-being. It helps us feel rested and energized so that we can be productive in our everyday life with a clear mind.

Sleep deprivation makes it harder for us to concentrate on tasks at hand because when we're tired our brain does not function as it regularly should. Sleep deprivation can make you feel tired and irritable throughout the day—and those symptoms are often mistaken for being depressed! In fact, they're just signs that it's time to adjust your nighttime routine to get back to that beauty rest that will keep you feeling refreshed and ready to handle your day ahead.

You Feel Unaligned Spiritually & Emotionally

You've been making fear-based decisions, and your stress levels are through the roof. It feels like someone or something else has taken control of your life and emotions, and it's not you anymore.

You feel like a stranger in your own body.

You feel like you are different than you used to be.

You feel like you have lost your identity.

It feels as if someone or something else has taken control of your life and emotions, and it's not you anymore.

Brain Fog

Have you been having trouble remembering things? Do you find yourself forgetting what appointments are coming up on the calendar or forgetting your thoughts easily? Are the small details of everyday life slipping through the cracks? If so, then it may be time for a mental health day.

Furthermore, if you find yourself struggling with other tasks, then it might be time to find a day that you can declutter your mind and get it back on track by having a well-needed mental health day that doesn't require much thought or action.

Feeling Drained

It's normal to feel tired after a hard day's work, or when you're stressed out and your mind is racing. But when that fatigue lingers for more than a couple of days, it may be time for some much-needed downtime. The reasons behind this exhaustion vary from person to person—it could mean anything from anemia to depression—but one thing is certain: The best way to combat it is by getting some well-needed relaxation time.

You've been feeling a little drained lately, which is hard to pinpoint, but you know it has something to do with how you're spending your time. You know that taking a break and getting away from your phone, computer, TV and other distractions will help you recharge so that when you get back to yourself after your mental health day, things will seem better—and they will!

So don't wait another moment before making sure that your schedule includes some quiet time as soon as possible. You deserve it!

Sis, It is okay to not feel okay, but what is not okay is ignoring your body telling you that you need to RELAX and SLOW DOWN. We live in a world where we are constantly told that we need to keep working, keep being productive, and keep going and if we don't we are labeled 'lazy' or having a poor 'work ethic' but the truth is having too much of something is never healthy. Taking a mental health day or self-care day can help prevent burnout in the long run by giving your brain some rest from all its hard work. Sometimes you may even need more than just one day to get yourself back feeling right and that is okay too!

In 2023 we are no longer sacrificing our mental well-being and physical health to keep up with a world that is going to always be in constant motion whether we choose to or not.

Do you need a bit more Self-Care in your life? Download your FREE copy of the 30-Day Self-Care Challenge and begin transforming your life TODAY!

[pitty-aegis-parlor]

The 12 Worst Things of New Jersey (The State I live in)

1. Would it kill you to say "please"?

Chivalry and etiquette are foreign concepts to many New Jerseyans. And it’s fair to assume that on any given day, you’ll encounter an impatient, impolite, disrespectful or downright nasty human-being who shares your lovely Garden State. Not every resident is a hollering, boorish brute, but take a roadtrip to the American south and you’ll realize that the stereotypes about northeasterners being rude are pretty much true.

2. Our traffic mimics "Mad Max"

Infuriating traffic makes sense for our most-densely-populated state. But does everyone have to be such an impatient, over-aggressive maniac? And don’t even start with the maddening array of jughandles and traffic circles.

3. NJ Transit's cruel tricks

To plan your day with the notion that NJ Transit's train or bus will arrive on schedule is to also account for bouts of rage as your pickup becomes delayed — and then canceled altogether. How could it get worse? Oh yeah, how about a crumbling infrastructure?

4. Our eternal civil war

Want to start a meaningless argument at your next dinner party? Ask the table “Where’s the line between North and South Jersey?” and then sit back as everyone spouts a meaningless opinion. Here’s the thing: There are no definitive, state-slicing barriers now, and there never will be. Let it go. (Plus, if we don’t unite, how will we ever conquer Delaware?)

5. And another thing ... our food battles

The pork roll vs. taylor ham discussion is worthy of its own slaughter. The stupid box says Taylor pork roll, people! Both sides are correct. Just let us enjoy our nitrate-soaked meat circles in peace. The same goes for subs/hoagies, Italian ice/water ice and sprinkles/jimmies. A state divided by its snacks is a state on the brink of collapse.

6. The soul-crushing property taxes

This gripe is based purely on fact: New Jersey boasts the highest property taxes in America, by far. The in-state average is now above $8,000 per household. Alabama, and its median property tax rate of $398, sounds awesome right about now.

7. The Pulaski Skyway

Between the merciless potholes, narrow lanes and hairpin exits, the dreary Pulaski feels more like the key in a Batman villain’s plot for Gotham-wide destruction that a structure that still exists in the 21st Century.

8. That wretched Turnpike smell

Anyone who regularly passes by Exit 13 on the Turnpike, and the nearby Linden Cogeneration Plant, already shares this grievance. The intense sulfur stench is especially putrid in warmer weather — coming soon! Though New Jersey is often unfairly mocked for its smells, it’s hard to defend this one.

9. Jersey Shore headaches

A day trip to our beloved surf and sand should surely be a serene occasion. But between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the traffic bottlenecking into the area is inescapable. To park, one must choose to shell out for an overpriced lot, or circle endlessly. Once on the beach, you endure every other frustrated family in its loudest, most obnoxious state. There’s just too many of us — we should try an odd-even system, ala the ‘73 oil crisis.

10. The Jersey meatheads

Are New Jersey’s drink-slugging, muscular buffoons different from the rest of the world’s? Yes. It goes back to the rudeness aspect — much of our population already has the tendency to morph into an inconsiderate jerk at any moment. Add in the misguided sense of entitlement that comes with not being able to touch your own shoulders, and you have the bombastic Jersey meathead, whose sole purpose is to ruin your night at the bar, club, or concert.

11. Our lousy customer service

Why are New Jersey’s service and retail employees all stationed behind a wall of indifference. In supermarkets and convenience stores — anywhere where you encounter a cashier — there’s a good chance you’ll be told to have a nice day, though it’s blatantly obvious they couldn’t care less. And why do New Jersey restaurants get so bent out of shape about separate checks? It almost always leads to a better overall tip!

12. It's us against the world

What other state’s residents need to constantly protect themselves from punchlines and mockery as soon as the cross into foreign lands? If you’re in California and you say “I’m from New Jersey,” don’t you immediately feel like as though a cloud of judgement has rolled in? Sure, we defend our spot and debunk the stereotypes, but a lifetime on watch becomes exhausting.

13. Why do we stay?

Well, have you tried the pizza here? But seriously, beneath all this quibbling, New Jersey is a special place, where many folks are willing to live. Our traffic and crowds are proof of that. And despite its flaws, we love this crazy land.

Oh, and did I mention the pizza?

I have never visited or know about New Jersey, though I’ll keep that in mind!