#and the whole house smells like toast and freshly made coffee

[dudeshusband]

i'd love to get up just a bit earlier to make rick breakfast and coffee then prepare us both a little lunch if we're working so we can take it with us

[yushi-ni]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ mornings at the dorms 🌷🌷 ᯓᡣ𐭩

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist 🌷🫧🩵

a typical morning at the wishies dorms with sion as your sleepy bf. !! not proofread !! just fluff, taking care of your bf and his members on their day off. ᯓ★ established relationship, mentioning of 'noona' once or twice. this is just for fun, for entertainment purposes only, so don't take it too seriously!! 💌🌷✨ HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

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ʚɞ you and sion have been dating for a while now. as time went by, you had gotten a lot closer with his members as well. being the same age as sion, the others were a bit younger than you. naturally feeling the sisterly instinct to take care of the younger ones, you often find yourself making food, getting them their favorite snacks whenever you visit their dorms, help them out with their house chores, making sure they take good care of their health by giving them vitamins etc etc. you didn't mind, not at all, you cared for the younger ones health just as much as you did for your boyfriend. sion loves the way you treat his members. being the leader and oldest of his group, he naturally takes on the dad role of the team and as you came in the picture; you made the perfect fit as the 'mom' of the group. sion was thankful for all the things you did for him and his team, coming over to their dorms with food to make sure they all eat well after a long day of practicing, dropping off drinks to take along whenever a day full of schedules followed the next day, showing interest in the things each member liked. whether you liked it or not, you always made sure each individual member felt comfortable around you. reminding sion over and over again why he fell in love with you to begin with.

yesterday was a day like many others. your boyfriend and his team had a long day at work, preparing hard for their upcoming japan tour. as the boys all walked in one after the other they quickly freshened themselves up to go to bed as soon as possible. calling it a day soon enough as each one of them was tired and in need of rest. your boyfriend, half asleep and ready to finally close his eyes, sent you a quick goodnight text. telling you he loves you and will update you tomorrow, since he was too tired to give you a small report on his day.

as the next morning arrives, you got up early and well to step out of the house. it's your boyfriends first day off after a couple weeks of overseas schedules and long practice days. before heading to his dorm, you stop by the store to get some things. you make sure to grab some coffee along the way as well since you know your boyfriend will definitely need one to start his day. upon arriving you notice the quiet silence that fills up the guys' apartment. the whole dorm still sound asleep, you smile to yourself, glad the boys got some well deserved rest. after all this time, you know your ways around their place. feeling comfortable in their home, you have no issue being the only one awake. setting down the bag of small groceries you did, you put the drinks in the fridge to keep them cold. fidgeting around in their kitchen you start to set up the things you need to make breakfast for you and the others. completely lost in your own thoughts you mindlessly prepare the food, not noticing the youngest boy walking in to the kitchen. only as the youngster stood right infront of you, you acknowledge his presence. "ohhh goodmorning saku. did you sleep well?!!" you said with a grin as you saw the sleepy state he was in. not much coming from him he just silently joined you as you continued on with the rest of the food. as time passed by, more members woke up one by one. the smell of freshly baked french toast started filling up the air as well as yummy pancakes. greeting you as soon as they stepped in the kitchen, each member thanked you for the breakfast you made. the chairs at the table were taken as the boys sat down, ready to eat!! all.. expect for one. "noona, i think sion-hyung needs a human alarm clock to be awakened from his sleep" riku laughs as he takes his first bite.

as the room filled up with the guys slowly getting more energized and awake, the sound of laughter and chatting soon becomes louder and louder. as you smile upon the view infront of you, you decide to make your way to your boyfriends room. the room was quiet with only the little bit of sunshine peeking through the blinds. enough to see the sleeping figure on the bed. as you silently laughed, you walk inside the room. not wanting to wake him up just yet, you open the blinds to let the morning sunshine in completely. as you look over to your bf, who did not move one inch even though the bright lights filled up the whole room now, you cannot help but smile. sitting on the side of his bed you are contemplating whether to wake him up or let him sleep a bit longer. as you reached out to brush away some of the hair that covers his face, you feel your bf leaning in to your touch. "morning.." he says with his eyes closed, voice still hoarse. "goodmorning, i didn't want to wake you up but i made breakfast for you guys" you lean down to give your sleepy bf a quick kiss. as you come back up, you feel two arms holding you in place. "mmh just 5 more minutes please.." you giggled, "ok you can stay in bed 5 more minutes, but make sure to come out soon enough before the others eat all the food!" you said while holding back your laughter to the view of your bf fighting the bright light. "noooo, with you. 5 more minutes with you.." not planning on letting you go just yet, sion pulls you even closer as he pulls you to lay down next to him. not being able to refuse his cute whiny request, you laid down and brushed your hands over his face once more.

"mmh i don't think i am hungry" sion says as he pulls you impossibly closer. "yes you are!!! i made so much yummy food, you have to try!!" you said, playfully offended by your boyfriends statement. "i think yushi will have finished all the food before i can even get to the table" sion groans as he feels you sitting up straight. "cmon!!! get up, you have to eat!!!" you pushed your boyfriends arms away as you laughed at his state. no attempts were made as sion just laughed and rolled onto his back. "no i was joking, they will leave some for me" he pulled his blanket all the way up to his neck before you snatched it off again. giggling to yourself as your boyfriends eyes shut open by the sudden action, you took both his hands and tried pulling him up from his laying position. "nooo baby please, you said 5 more minutes!!" trying to pull you back down by using his weight in his advantage, you stand your ground and yank his arms once more. "cmon sionnn i promise you can stay in bed all day afterwards!!!" you laughed at your bf as he groans by the thought of getting up. "if you get up now, we can watch that one movie you wanted to see later!" there was no need to repeat your words again since your bf almost jumped up immediately after you said that. eating breakfast now to rush back to bed again afterwards to stay in and watch movies with you?? suddenly the man was hungry and could not wait to try out the food you made for him.

laughing at your boyfriends sudden rushed awakening, you get pulled off the bed as well. "pinky promise, no games or play time with the others first" sion says as he stretches his arms before pulling you close in a hug again, leaning down to rest his head on top of yours. "just movies with the two of us?? mmh i will have to consider the pros and cons" you jokingly said laughing at the way you feel your bf squeeze you a little tighter. "promise, otherwise i am not moving" sion says. "ok ok ok i promise. but first breakfast!!! i even got you coffee!!" you replied to which your bf almost immediately let go of you and walked to the door; "hurry baby, i have places to be" he said as he walked through the door. laughing at your bf, you followed him back to the kitchen. once again being welcomed by a full table, this time all seats taken as your bf took his spot on the head of the table.

walking to the fridge to take out the coffee you got for your bf, you make your way to the table and finally sit down as well. sion, thanking you for the coffee, put his hand on your thigh to give it a quick squeeze as he starts eating. looking around at the left overs the younger members left for you to eat, you smile by the thought of them eating well and enjoying your food. taking your first bite yourself, ryo, why was sitting next to you, started excitedly talking about the things he had done the day before. listening to the younger one, you finish eating and put your chopsticks down, satisfied with your full belly and so immersed in your conversation with ryo, you didn't notice the others started cleaning up already. "ohhh you guys, i will clean up. you can go wash you and do your things!!" you said as the youngsters were chaotically trying to clean up their dishes.

as you were putting away the washed dishes, you felt a pair of arms sneaking around your waist. sion rested his head in the crook of your neck, you smiled at your boyfriends actions. "sionnnn i cannot clean like this" you giggled as your bf only snuggled his face even further into your neck. "mmmh it's clean y/n, very clean, has never looked better" he said as he kisses the exposed skin on your neck. laughing at the clingy boy, you put down the last few things and turn around to face your boyfriend. taking a moment to look at his pretty face, you put your arms around his neck, smiling up to your bf. sion, returning the same look on his own face, leans down as he kisses you. one.. two.. three pecks before he pulls back to lean his forehead against yours. "thank you for making us breakfast y/n, you really are the best" he says before locking your lips in another sweet kiss. a bit longer this time, fully taking in the sweet taste of your lips on his. moving your hands from behind his neck to cup his face, you smile into the kiss. feeling your boyfriends hands find their way to either side of your hips, you pull back. sion, following your lips with his, opens his eyes to look at you. once again, wondering what he did to deserve such amazing girlfriend like you.

putting your hands on his shoulders and giving him a little tap, you say; "so!!! ryo said he wanted to show me his new plushies!!! i have places to be!!" you giggled as you quickly escape your boyfriends hold and run out of the kitchen. sion who was frozen on the spot, left in disbelief for a little second, rushed out of the kitchen, running after you as you were laughing when he caught up to you and pulled you in his grip again. "nice try, you are mine the rest of the day!!!" he laughed as he walked you to his room again. "noona. do you want to play on my switch together?" sakuya asked as he walked out of his room looking for you. "your noona is already booked for today, saku, go ask ryo to play" sion said laughing as he opened the door to his bedroom, still holding you as he follows behind you. "i will play with you later saku, ok!!" you yell as your boyfriend was quick to let out a; "no she won't!!!" before he fully closes the door. leaving the maknae standing in the opening of his own bedroom looking over to yushi and riku who were already settled and cozy on the couch, watching the whole scene unfold. "i don't think noona will play with you today" yushi says as the youngest looks at him with visible question marks on his face to which riku laughingly adds; "you will understand when you get your own girlfriend"

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Giving birth the au natural way

This is a reworking of a roleplay I had recently with @allkindsofpreg

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed working on it :)

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Our midwife was surprisingly agreeable. Which was a shock… first time, clueless parents being left to their own devices to bring forth a baby wasn’t exactly many couples idea of a good time, but for us, we were prepared and ready. We much preferred our own company as much as anyone else’s, and let’s be honest, we find we can be ourselves more when we don’t have a room of people watching us. So we booked the retreat our midwife recommended to us. 2 houses in an area of nothingness, one for us, one for her. We paid through the nose to book them for 2 weeks but we had to be sure so we booked 1 week either side of your due date. We’d spent a week here getting set up when early morning came on your due date accompanied by some mild, but noticeable cramping. A text to the midwife, and a reply saying she was on her way - but if we didn’t need her just let her know when the baby was born and she’d come and do the medical checks.

You swallowed a big gulp of fresh woodland air as you stood on the patio area, the weather thankfully warm enough to not need to wrap up. You were barefoot and wearing a light top and shorts set that you had been sleeping in - by rights should still be sleeping in - but the cramps were getting you excited - you’d waited 9 months for this moment.

You gathered up the hem of your top to rest on top of the impressive expanse of your stomach. The muscles there tightened again and, closing your eyes, leaning against the doorframe. The gentle breeze felt cool against your flushed skin. You pressed a hand to the spot you could feel our little one kicking out against.

“I know, it’s not comfortable for you either, is it?” Another kick in response confirmed it and you smiled. “Well it won’t be long now.” Hopefully, anyway.

You wandered back in the house to scour the kitchen for some light breakfast— you were going to need the energy later. You were just about to pour a glass of orange juice when you felt my arms slide around your pregnancy-expanded waist, my body moulding around your back. You leaned back into me and rested your head against my shoulder. “You should go back to bed,” you mumbled, but I made no move to let you go. “Might be a while before we get another chance.”

“I heard you correctly earlier, and I’ll be damned if you think I’m missing any of this” I say, kissing the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. I release off you and fill the coffee machine and set it to brew “though I suspect I might need this” I say with a grin.

I walk to the door you were recently outside of and look out to the sunrise just starting to poke above the horizon.

“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day to watch a beautiful woman do something beautiful with our baby”

The smell of freshly brewed coffee brought with it a longing. Technically it was fine for you to have a cup, but the nerves were already starting to build and the whole point of coming out here was to keep everything calm and peaceful. Besides, the baby didn’t seem to like it and nauseous was the last thing you wanted to be right now. You just decided to stick with toast and juice.

By the time you had finished preparing your food, the coffee was finished also, so you poured some into a campfire mug and joined me on the patio.

“I’m glad we’re doing this here,” you said, handing over the cup and taking in the view with me. You placed down your plate, and hands now free, you placed them at your hips and arched backward, pulling your shoulder blades together and stretching your lower back. It made your belly stick out even more and caused your shirt to ride up about halfway, getting stuck there even when you straightened back up. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? You find this sexy?” you asked, rocking your hips and rolling your huge tummy around in a little mock seductive dance. “Enjoy it now, before it’s gone!”

I moved around in front of you, my hands clasping around the belly, warm to the touch. I can’t help but smile. “I’ll enjoy it as much as I can… then the next… then the next one after that” I punctuated each statement with a kiss. Suddenly I feel your belly tense and you betray the moment with a slight wince “was that a contraction?” I ask.

“Mmm,” you hummed in confirmation, leaning into my touch and letting out a slow breath, your hands finding purchase on my forearms. This one held on a bit longer, sharpening at its peak, and your grip tightened considerably— your anchor as the pain washed over you. Your stance widened, your knees bend as I supported you and coached you to sway in time with your breaths. Even when it passed you kept your hold on me, looking into the distance and laughing a little breathlessly.

“I guess they started last night,” you admitted, a little sheepishly. “But it was the same as I’d been feeling for weeks now and, I don’t know, I guess I thought labor would feel… different somehow. But they’re definitely closer together now. And stronger.” The aftershocks of that last cramp still twinged and tugged. “So I guess todays the day?”

“We can only hope” I say with a smile. My phone buzzes with a text, I pick it up and read it - it’s from the midwife. She’s texting to say she just arrived and she was going to get bedded down and for us to ring her in case she’s needed - she’d keep her phone on loud so it would wake her. I casually comment that she’s made good time but not really surprising considering the time of day it is.

We hold each other close looking out over the brightening morning.

“Want to go for a walk?” I enquire, “might help get things established? I’ll be nice and even help you get your shoes and socks on!”

Considering you hadn’t been able to reach your feet for some time now, you gladly accept my offer. Grabbing some stretchy leggings and a t-shirt from the dresser, your gaze lingers on the little stack of newborn onesies folded up on top - you give your tummy a little pat—it’s hard to believe that soon there’s going to be a whole new person in the world. You admit you’re going to miss this, the feeling of having someone growing inside me, but you suspect you won’t have to miss it for long. We want a big family.

We start out along the same path we’ve been walking every morning, but only barely make it past the tree line when another contraction hits. You try to walk through it at first, but of course I notice and suggest we take a rest and remind me that this is why we’re here—it’s not a race, we’re not trying to force anything, we’re just going to listen and respond and let it happen.

After an hour, your clothes are stuck moulded to your skin, your hips are aching, and we’re still only halfway through the loop. “This is a lot harder than it was yesterday,” you say, still slightly hunched and out of breath from the latest contraction.

I stop and rub your back, the feeling eliciting a groan of appreciation from you, I then say “come on let’s do the thing”

You smile knowing what I mean. You stretch out, straightening your back as I come in behind you. Reaching around and crossing my hands under your belly I pull up relieving the pressure on your back and hips immensely. Your sigh of relief was glorious. We stood there for a good minute just rocking side to side in the strange form of embrace until you reach down and grab at my hand. The next contraction was building, and I could feel everything in your belly between my fingers. You grunt as the feeling builds, gripping my forearm more and more. The feeling doesn’t last long, 30 seconds at most, but it had only been around 10 minutes since your last one - you were keeping track. They were definitely speeding up.

As your grip lessens on my arm signalling the end of the pain I lower your belly and gradually let go, accompanied by a ‘whump’ sound expelled from you as you took back over the weight.

Still behind you I wrap my arms in the gap between your breasts and the top of your belly hugging you close.

I whisper close to your ear, something about the early morning and complete quiet not wanting me to speak too loudly as I say “sorry baby, I had to… let it go”

Of course the last words were said in a song-song tone as you groaned - nothing to do with the contractions this time. I apologise with “so I started the dad jokes a little bit early.”

You feel a little roll and then a kick up somewhere near your rib cage. “See? Even the baby is protesting,” you whine, rubbing at the tender spot. Alright, maybe you’re a little cranky at having to bear the full weight of gravity again. But it gives you an idea. “Lake?” you suggest.

It’s another two contractions before we get to the clearing, but it’s so worth it. The lake is surrounded by mountains on one side, forest on the other, and the water is crystal clear and still quite cold. I give you a skeptical look, but you’re determined. “It’s warming up now that the sun’s up,” you reason. “Or maybe we’ll just have to huddle together for warmth,” you suggest with a waggle of your eyebrows, without hesitation you pull off your shirt and kick off the shoes you would not be able to put back on by yourself. The leggings are too clingy and stuck to bother trying to take off, so they’re all you’re wearing as you begin to wade into the fresh water.

You take a step in and all the air leaves my lungs in one whoosh. It. Is. Cold. But now here you are, topless, one foot in the water, back straining, and another contraction starting with no feasible form of relief in sight. Suddenly the pressure spikes and this baby feels so heavy pressing down inside you. You let out some noise of surprise or discomfort and I'm there in an instant.

I wade into the water throwing off my top and tossing it into the rough area where your pile of clothes are, my own trousers and shoes still on and soaked through.

“Babe!” you call, though I’m already there—a question, a plea.

I grab hold of your hand as you squeeze for all you’re worth, the pain of the contraction evident. You’re clearly having a difficult time as you let out a low pitched moan as your grip tightens and tightens against my hand. Suddenly you release, gasping a breath out.

“You OK?” I enquire. You nod, not able to speak. A few seconds later you manage “that was a rough one, hope there aren’t too many like that” with a weak smile.

I return the smile to you as your hands release mine and you rub them over my body. “My big strong hero diving into the water to save his damsel in distress”

I gulp, noticing the chilled water having an obvious effect on your nipples, they had already gotten big and dark with the onset of your milk coming in, and now they poked out almost as long as a finger to the first knuckle.

You follow my eyes and see where I have spotted.

“Nipple stimulation is good to bring on contractions you know” you purr at me.

I don’t need to be told twice my hands paw at your breasts, your voice betraying a giggle as I move to the nipples, water from the lake leaving them slippery as my fingers tug and squeeze them. Your hands move from my body to both sides of your belly as you groan - at first with the pleasure of my touch then finally with the effects of another contraction starting its journey on you.

“I guess it works,” you note before the full force of the contraction takes hold, grabbing onto my shoulders and resting your forehead against mine, breathing in and out slowly along with me as the pain crests. It still hurts, but at least the water is taking off some of the pressure and you’re able to stay present through the whole thing.

When it’s over, you slide your hands down my arms and position me hands back on your breasts. “I think we’re getting the hang of this whole ‘labour’ thing,” you say with a grin as I continue my previous ministrations. You initiate a kiss and push yourself deeper into my grasp and chuckle as you’re brought up short by the belly between us.

Your hands find their way to my chest, my hips, then dip down beneath the waistband of my pants. It’s not exactly an ideal temperature for this, but you still hear my grunts of pleasure as you stroke, massage and tug.

We pause for another contraction—your grip moving a safe distance away from anything particularly sensitive—and you bury your face into the crook of my neck with a groan. The vocalizations help, a long, sustained note that rises in volume, but breaks when the contraction becomes too much and you switch to releasing short puffs of air. When you’re finally able to take a full breath again, you lift your head and look into my eyes. “Maybe we should start heading back.”

“You’re the boss, princess” I grin as I follow you out of the water, watching it drain off down your hips and ass as you get closer and closer to the edge. You give a little wiggle as you feel my hand pressed against your soaked through bottoms making contact with your ass cheek and I’m reminded of the caress you gave me in the water, my own length stiffening at the thought once again. We finally reach the waters edge and find a tree stump for you to sit on as I dry off what I can of your feet using my top before sliding your shoes back on again. I give you a hand putting your own top on as I pull on my own - now wet and sticking to my body, as I give you a hand up and we start our slow, squelching walk back to the cabin.

“Right now I want a nice warm shower” I say, you nod as another contraction picks up. You’re now at the point where you’re coping by vocalising, you stop moving as the contraction is upon you. You groan something in between your moans about the head feeling so low and how much your hips hurt that I come in behind you and squeeze my hands tight against your hips, pressing to try and help.

The force of my hands adds a nice bit of respite for your overtaxed back and pelvis, but it does little to counter the powerful pressure barrelling down in your core. You can’t speak, can’t stand up

straight, can’t focus on anything besides the air moving in and out of your lungs, and even that is a struggle.

Between the increasingly frequent contractions and your slow walk turning into an even slower waddle, the trip back from the lake takes at least twice as long as it did to get there. Our destination is in sight when another contraction hits and you grab onto my forearms—it’s a routine by this point—and bend your knees, getting into a gentle squat in front of you. Everything feels swollen and tight and impossibly full as your womb compresses. You start to wonder if your water breaking would relieve some of that painful tension.

Finally, we make it back and the shower is big enough for a party, so there’s easily enough room for both of us and the birthing ball we’d brought. I start the water, help strip you out of your wet and sticky clothes, and get you situated on the ball before getting myself ready and joining you in there. The warmth—and my hands—soothe your tight muscles as you roll your hips in gentle circles on the ball. It’s almost as if you can feel the head moving down with the force of each contraction and as a result you keep your legs splayed wide. More than once you catch my eyes lingering on your feminine curves. With more than a little assistance, you get up and have me take your seat on the ball; then you sit on my lap facing me, your belly pressing into me, your legs wrapped around mine in invitation.

The slippery ball coupled with the slippery occupants take a lot of my concentration to stay stable as you climb onto my lap, but wrapping your arms around the back of my neck helps keep us upright.

Your belly presses tight against me as you continue to writhe and wriggle as you huff and pant in my ear, your forehead pressed against mine.

I find myself getting hard at the closeness of your body and you react to the feel of the bulge pressing against the underside of your belly by rocking back and forth teasing both it and me.

My hands grip behind your back as you writhe, as I manage to get what little purchase I can on your slippery skin.

The contraction snuck up on you, your mind elsewhere as the all too familiar tightening ramped up, causing you to lean back and grip hard on my shoulders. You suddenly squeal as you feel a release. Whilst the obvious splash was lost in the water running within the shower, your waters had broken, and the sudden realisation that the baby’s head is just right on the cusp of appearing at your lips has you start shaking with anxiety, knowing you’re getting closer to having to push.

“Oh!” Even though you’ve been expecting it, waiting for it, the sudden release still takes you by surprise. Without the cushion of the amniotic sac the head descends quickly and violently, locking into your canal like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “Ohhh,” the exclamation quickly turns into a groan—the new wave of pressure that comes with this contraction is intense and your hand automatically reaches between your legs. There’s nothing there to touch yet, but you swear it feels like the baby is about to fall right out of you.

You slide off my lap and settle into a deep squat. Your breaths are coming in short, frantic gasps and the water running down your face makes it difficult to take in air, so you pitch forward onto your knees, resting your crossed forearms on my thighs and burying your head between my knees. Any other time the gesture would be most salacious, but right now all you want is to get through this contraction without drowning. I do my best to pull your hair back and shield you from the shower head, you manage to pant and curse your way through the worst of it.

You say we need to get out of here, to dry off and get to wherever we want to be for the birth, but even when it’s over you can’t bring yourself to unfurl from your current position. I presume you must be comfortable, as we stay this way for several seemingly back-to-back contractions that leave you trembling, nauseous and a little bit lightheaded. The weight in your hips seems to keep you anchored to the ground.

You recall reading about what labour would be like, how difficult and painful and relentless the transition stage usually is, but some part of you thought that preparing for it would make you more equipped to handle it. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admit, though you’re not sure I can hear your muffled voice over the water spray. Not that you have any choice.

Maybe I did hear you, or maybe I just know you well enough to sense that you need to change positions, because before you realise, the water is shut off and you’re on your feet, wrapped in an oversized towel and my embrace.

I assist you out of the shower and we plod slowly and deliberately step by step into the main living room. Your walking stance still has a widespread gait, almost like you had stepped out of a long day in the saddle, but I know it’s just subconscious with you trying to relieve the pressure on your hips.

I lead you forward to the sofa, where I guide your hands to the armrests on one side. You grab hold and drop down into a partial squat, bouncing a little on your thighs. "Let me get something down here, don’t want to make too much of a mess" I grin, though I think the expression is lost on you, entirely focusing on the weight in your pelvis.

I stroke your back and give it a rub as I step away and grab a few more towels, placing them on the seat and around in front of it. I suspect both the wooden floor, and the faux leather seats would wipe up fine, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

I hear a groan coming from you and look up to see you swaying your hips in a figure eight pattern. You look up and lock eyes with me, you give me a quick smile as if to say that you're OK, and I return the grin with "It's all going as it should baby, you're doing really well. I love you and you're doing a wonderful job."

You suddenly squat down low, using the chair arm as support, roaring as you dip down. I scramble to the side to make sure that there's nothing obvious happening spying a long trail of mucus dripping onto the floor from your crotch. I lift the back of the towel up, exposing your ass as you manage a moment of strained speech "can you see anything?"

"Sorry baby, no." I don’t mention the long trail of slime which I wipe off with the towel. There's no obvious bulging around your lips however. You give a dejected sigh. "I think you were doing really well there when you were using gravity to help, so lets get back to what we were doing in the shower, but maybe a little more upright?"

You nod, and let me take hold of you as I lead you around to the seat. I sit down on it, still noticeably dripping water from the shower from me, and you stand in front of me as I lower myself down. You then drop down into a squat between my legs, your belly hanging low almost touching the ground you squat is that deep - you use my knees and thighs as support. My hands reach over to your shoulders and squeeze as you turn your head slightly and nuzzle into my left hand. The brief moment of calm is lost when the next contraction picks up though, and you're soon roaring out loud once more.

You want to push, but know the urge is coming more from your head than your body. You catch yourself wishing for this to just be over and take a moment to refocus on the present moment. As the next contraction builds, you close your eyes and let your body do what it wants, what it needs.

Your grip on my thighs tightens, concentrating the tension there to allow the rest of your body to relax. Your hips are still restless but keeping them open feels right, so you continue to sway in your deep squat, shifting your weight as your knees swing left, and right, left, and right. You focus the sounds leaving your mouth into one long, sustained hum, the tone increasing in volume and pitch as the pressure intensifies. The pain starts deep in your core and radiates outward, wrapping around your butt, thighs and creeping up your spine and up to your shoulders.

You throw your head back suddenly, arching your back and pulling up against gravity’s strong downward force. The noises in your throat shift to a series of primal whining moans – your whole body trembles as it attempts to deal with the shocks of pain centralized in your core. Just when you think you will surely be split in two, it dulls just enough for you to find my eyes, my focus, my excitement and then you remember… yes, you’re excited too.

I stand with you in the small breaks between contractions to give your knees a break, but the breaks get smaller and smaller and soon there’s not even enough time to change positions before another one is upon you. You don’t want to be stuck in that position, so instead you follow me to a seated spot on the couch. It’s deep enough so that you can settle between my legs and rest your back up against me. I pepper kisses along the line of your shoulder and up your neck as you twist your head so I can place one on your lips. My hands are molded to your generous swell, you placing yours over the top of them, interlocking our fingers as another relentless wave begins.

You pant, moan and writhe through another two contractions before the pressure in your ass and back becomes unbearable - your tailbone feeling like it’s going to snap. You know it must be the baby’s head moving down. Time must be passing, but you don’t know how long it is before the frenzied onslaught of contractions begins to slow and you feel like you can finally take a breath again.

You stand up and sit on my knee, pivoting in the position to swing one of your legs over my thigh, turning yourself sideways so that you can look up at me.

“Hi,” you say, and giggle as I give your bum an affectionate little squeeze. “I think it’s time to decide…” you pause, suddenly filled with nervous energy. I pull you in close, rub your tummy and wait for you to continue. The next contraction confirms it—the feeling, the urge that’s been building slowly until this moment when it now seems so obvious—you try to get the words out but you’re quickly tensed and grunting, trying your best not to be completely consumed by it.

“Need to decide—“ a quick huff, “where I’m going—“ a groan, “hnngh, to start pushing!” you finally yell, slamming backward into me and panting so quickly and heavily that it looks like you’re shaking. One of my hands grabs fiercely onto yours. The other disappears between your legs.

My mind recalls the bits of training and insight given to us by the midwife after we told her we wanted to go it alone. She was supportive, but of course insisted that she was nearby in case anything went wrong. She showed us a demonstration of dilation, and let me practice on a training dummy to see what the different stages felt like, so I was prepared. She explained it was often normal to feel like you need to push too early, so you were pushing against your own muscles rather than pushing into an open hole… it wasn't recommended.

My fingers entered into you, resulting in a small gasp. I immediately noticed how wet your passage was, presumably from the waters breaking, but thankfully I had no issue with snaking my fingers deeper and deeper. What shocked me first was how close to the entrance your cervix was - we had tested early in the pregnancy to see how deep I needed to feel back there, and to be blunt, it was painful pressing in that hard.

I felt the head at that point, my finger tracing around the circle of the entrance, a definite difference in texture between your muscles and the head of the baby. My face beamed. You looked at me quizzically. I replied "I can feel the baby, its right there, you're almost ready to push."

You managed a giggle and a strained sigh as you say "I know, I told you that, don't you doubt me young man when I tell you a need to find somewhere to push."

I look apologetic, but the mirth in your eyes gives away the fact you were just teasing me.

"Lets go outside…" I suggest, pausing a second, half expecting you to say no, that you were too vulnerable like this. You didn’t say anything. I continued. "I figure we wanted the natural air, the calming environment… and I don’t want to think I blew up the air mattress for nothing."

You giggled, but were cut short by another tensing pain. As we hold each other, you groan and howl, but start to wriggle off my lap. I question what the rush is, and you manage between panting breaths "don’t… know… how… long… I can wait."

I walk you over to the door, where you grab onto a chair back from the kitchen table sat by the large window overlooking the wilderness. I first grab hold of a pair of shorts - realising that if someone should walk past, it would be easier to avoid a public indecency charge for you than it would be for me - then pull open the door and rush back in to grab the air mattress I'd blown up the first day we got here.

As I dragged it and hefted it up to get it out the door, you pleaded at me to hurry. Your face showed genuine concern.

I took the mattress down the couple of stairs to a picnic area set outside the house. There was a cleared, grassy area next to it which didn’t have any significant amount of branches or any other sharp things which may burst the mattress, dashing back up for you, I led you down the few steps until you got to the mattress, lowering you down to your hands and knees.

You wasted no time at all, pushing back on your hands and thighs, you groaned, held your breath and gave your first push.

After so many hours of passive endurance, pushing with the contraction actually feels good. It almost seems to counter the internal pressure—almost—like finally being able to sneeze after your nose tickled all day. But it’s still your first time doing it and you’re not used to trying to focus and control those innermost muscles.

You rock back and you’re sure you look ridiculous with your ass high up in the air, but you feel my hands rubbing all along your thighs, coaxing you to relax and keep your hips open wide. For the first few contractions you try holding your breath and pushing as hard as you can for as long as you can. However, all that does is make you lightheaded and tired - and frustrated - that it seems to be fruitless.

I sense your growing impatience and ask if you want me to count for you and coach your pushes. You nod, and when you tense with the next contraction, I start at ten and work my way down to

one. You’re determined to keep going, but I tell me that it’s okay to let go and take a break for a second, that the baby is making its way down and it’s okay to breathe for a moment. You release a pained moan and try to pull in enough air to make it through another push. You’re trying to follow along with my instructions, but between being unable to see my face or feel your progress, having to balance on shaky arms on a shaky mattress… well, it’s just not working like that in this moment.

Carefully, you lower myself down so that you’re lying on your side, belly and head resting on some of the nest of pillows I’d brought out with us. Your knees are bent, one leg resting on the bed and the other flared out so you’re open like a clamshell. I sit toward the base of the mattress by your bent legs, my body angled toward yours so you can see me and your free leg can rest in my lap or over my shoulder. I also have a good line of sight as to what’s happening between your legs.

This puts a bit of unwelcome pressure on your hips, but for the most part this feels better—just as it was this morning, the breeze is fresh and cool against your skin allowing you to focus on my face and what your body is telling you. When another contraction starts, you hook my arm into the crook of my knee and pull it back toward your shoulder - as best as you can around your large stomach. Instead of holding your breath you release it slowly, squeezing your core and curling forward until you run out of air, then inhale just as slowly before repeating the process until the contraction begins to wane.

You lower your leg back down around my waist, put a hand on your belly, and look up at me with a smile. “That was good,” you say, finally feeling like you’re getting into the rhythm of this stage.

I plant a kiss on the top of your knee and join with you in feeling the firm swell that holds our child. “Just let me know if I can do anything” I offer with a little laugh.

Several contractions later you request that I begin holding your leg back—the urge to bear down is becoming overwhelming and you find yourself lost in it and unable to do anything else. The pressure is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and every push feels like something is on the verge of cracking, bursting or tearing.

You’re holding your breath again, but only for a few seconds at a time—it’s all you can manage before the instinct to recoil from the pain takes over. It’s changing now—sharpening, burning—and you let out a sharp cry, your body jerking as your knees try to snap shut against my firm grip. I hold you in place, letting you squeeze me in a death grip even as I wrangle your legs to ensure your hips stay open. I try to rub a comforting hand along your stomach, thighs, and bum. You know you must be making progress when you feel me stretching and circling your vaginal opening, trying to prepare you for what’s to come. I give a few playful flicks to your clit, as if to make you forget how bad that last round of pushing felt. It works and you grind down on my hand, pushing it deeper into your folds.

“How- how close?” you ask, still panting despite the contraction being over.

“You’re doing really well” I say enthusiastically, “Each time you push, you bulge out… a few more and I might even start to see the head peeking out.”

You seem to visibly grow bolder at the news, renewing your stamina as you pull back your leg again, once more hooking it over my shoulder. I lean in with my hands, pressing lightly against the bulge forming in your vagina, the first outward signs of the head attempting to make its way, with your help, into the world.

Each push brings with it a groan of effort, and several huffing breaths as I keep count for you, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand rather than allowing your mind to wander and lose track of the progress rather than just concentrating on the pain in each rush of effort.

You push your crotch into my hands, wiggling a little as I stretch out my thumb in response and rub it slowly in circles around your clit. Your groans intensify to shouts, making me pause my actions, but you gasp in between breaths that its helping, and I shouldn’t stop. I leaned forward as best I could with your leg still up in the air on my shoulder and kissed the bottom of the bump, all the playful and affectionate touching resulting in your smile back at me as the contraction finally finished.

Another three, maybe four pushes later, and finally, the first outward signs of the baby appear at your lips, the teardrop shape stretching out over a tiny fraction of the head.

I almost jump with enthusiasm. “I can see it’s head baby… you’re doing so well… keep that effort up.” My gleeful sounds give you another burst of stamina, as you double up your efforts for the next push, straining hard.

“Easy baby… remember, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. You can’t force it. Take it nice and slow and you’ll get there sooner than you know.” You’re left panting by the exertion of the last attempt at pushing.

Of course, as much as there was some visibility of the head, it soon slipped back in again, your lips closing up around it as the push was let off, but between us, we both knew we had passed another milestone.

Your hand snakes down between your legs and feel around, realising that you couldn’t feel the head, and a little crestfallen, you start to take your hand away.

I grab your hand before you can remove it and put it back into place, using my fingers to separate your lips. Your fingers probe in and just inside, you feel it too, the slick, slightly spongy texture of the head of our baby.

“Keep it there on the next push” I say, as you nod, and once more the need to push is upon you. Feeling your finger being moved out as the head moves out, whilst only a fraction of an inch, gives you more motivation to carry on, and you’re suddenly beaming at me with your smiling face, the awe of the moment capturing you entirely.

“I feel it. I feel it!” Your finger traces a line up and down the slit between your folds—it’s still small and tight, but even your laughter causes the head to bob in and out of sight. “Hi, baby,” you coo, then look up at me and suddenly you’re overcome with emotion. “We’re about to be- parents,” you manage, biting back a happy sob.

I smile down at you, wiping away a stray tear and cupping your cheek tenderly before moving my hand down to the crest of your stomach. Another contraction starts but you’re still processing your feelings so I give the thigh you have tucked around my shoulder a little squeeze. “Don’t cry now, love, you’d only just got your breathing under control!”

You laugh, but I’m right— your body is demanding that you push and you’ve got to actually get the baby out before we can officially celebrate. You’re reminded of just how much work there is left to do when your next few pushes do little to reveal any more of the head. With my help, your knee is pulled back almost to your shoulder opening you up wide, you have one arm wrapped around the perimeter of your belly as I keep my palm pressed against your opening. The mound presses out and

recedes in time with your efforts, refusing to retain any progress despite giving everything you have to the pushes.

“You’re doing amazing,” I assure you, and you scoff in disagreement. “You are! You’re stretching, opening up nicely for our baby.”

You might have mumbled something about our baby inheriting an unnecessarily big head from me, but the truth is the baby is just big all over—at our last appointment, they estimated 9lbs+ if you made it to your due date… which is today. You groan and make another attempt at the seemingly impossible task, it always feels like you’re making progress until you stop pushing and it all disappears back into your tight folds.

You rest your leg back down at my side and reach your arms up to me. “I need to move again,” you decide. I pull you up to a seated position and help you swing my legs over the side so you’re perched at the edge of the mattress. It’s low enough to the ground that it’s almost a squat, and I kneel down in front of your spread knees. On the next contraction you curl forward, one hand on the underside of your belly and the other squeezing my shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp as the head lurches forward quickly, but just as quickly my hand is there providing support and counterpressure, tugging gently at the edges of your taut hole. The head jerks back inside when you take a breath, but then you lean back into it, pulling one leg back while keeping the other on the ground for stability. Another quick breath and then you’re back at it, letting out a high pitched cry when you feel yourself widen another fraction of an inch as the stretch starts to burn.

“Don’t let me tear!” you beg desperately between pushes—even though you’re just starting to crown, it feels like you can’t possibly open any more, and it’s almost a relief when the head sinks back inside this time.

You don’t make much progress during the next contraction, and I can tell it’s because of your hesitant pushes— you’re afraid of the pain that’s coming. When it’s over, I coax you down into a full squat in front of me. I don’t say anything, just pepper kisses all over your face and belly as my hands escalate their ministrations between your legs that have you squirming and breathless going into the next contraction. You push again in earnest, a mix of pain and pleasure, throwing your head back in a moan that turns into a shout and something in you gives way—the head making its way past my tailbone. This time when you stop pushing, the head stays right where it is, bowing out the skin of my vagina into a wide dome, a small round cap of hair at its peak.

“That’s it, we’re seeing real progress now baby, you’re doing so well.” My voice has a more muted tone than my yelling, enthusiastic outbursts from earlier, more intended to keep you calm and concentrating on the task at hand.

My fingers trace around the bulge between your legs now, feather light you squirm under my caress.

“That… that’s not fair” you manage to gasp, concentrating on the touch and not the cramping pains that have been your ever present companion for what seemed like hours now.

“You deserve a reward for all the hard work you have done, for all three of us” I say to you, my grin can only be described as devilish. My lips meet yours and we kiss in a passionate embrace - my hand curling around your shoulder in support as you brace yourself on my knee to stop you toppling over.

As we’re kissing, you pull back and groan, yet another contraction starting once more. My free hand which was down between your legs reaches up to caress the bump, then continuing further north it meets a breast and a nipple.

The sensitive area had already been a keen play area between us over the last few weeks, your nipples getting hyper sensitive as they were getting ready to express milk for the baby. My touch caused you to shiver as you recalled a recent play session, and you arch your back involuntarily pressing your chest out to give me more access.

My fingers lightly tug and squeeze the nipple, teasing it back and forth until you expressed a few drops of colostrum.

As I did so you pushed, eyes scrunched tight, panting out loud, all of your concentration on the pleasurable touches I was giving you rather than the pain you were feeling.

The nipple stimulation had an unexpected side effect, the contraction surged unexpectedly. You almost faltered and cried out but managed to maintain your composure, growling phrases such as “come on baby, come on out, mummy and daddy want to meet you” in between panting breaths.

You scream all of a sudden “so… much… pressure!” My hand drops down to between your legs and I feel the sheer amount of the head that’s starting to poke through. Unfortunately there’s still quite a way to go until you’re crowning, but my finger slips in between your lips and the baby’s head, stretching your skin a little.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by yourself, as I press my finger in and stretch you howl out in pain.

“I’m sorry baby but I need to help you stretch. There’s a long way to go and we need to take this nice, slow and easy”

You have moisture at the corners of your eyes as you say you know, acutely aware of how much work you have done, and beginning to realise just how much you still have to do.

“I’m with you” I blurt out, trying to get you back to a good place, your forehead slumping forward and meeting mine, as you pant, the contraction finally passing, my eyes look down between your legs and see the head sitting there, testament to the work you have done so far.

Some of the tension leaves you as you feel the skin stretch further - it’s still heavy and tight, but at least it doesn’t feel on the verge of causing damage anymore—and you sink forward into my embrace. You reach your hand down to feel what I’d just felt, barely recognising your own body. Your lips are hot, puffy and flared out monstrously wide so that they press out against your thighs. Your opening is kept taut and open in a perfectly round “O” and the skin feels so tightly moulded around the baby’s head even as its exit refuses to give way. You know women do this every day… but it just doesn’t seem physically possible in this moment.

“I need to stretch.” You’re telling yourself as much as me, but I nod anyway. “I need to relax long enough to let myself stretch.” You look at me almost pleadingly, and I know what you’re asking.

There’s little danger now of losing sight of the modest crown, so I lift you out of your squat and back up onto the mattress. You’re careful to keep your legs wide, knees falling open to the side as you lay fully on your back. I join you as soon as you’re situated, fitting myself between your hips, propping myself up on one side and hovering over your torso. We share a laugh as we try to find our balance, but soon you’re wincing with the start of another contraction.

“Breathe, baby,” I say gently, my free hand moving between your legs to continue its agonizing work. “Just breathe for now. Your body will do the work for you.”

“And you,” you manage before gritting your teeth and clutching at the pillows shoved in various supportive positions around you. I somehow manage to both stretch your hole and pleasure you at the same time, my thumb and index finger seemingly at odds in their objectives. You can’t help but push a little at the tail end and the burning is more bearable this time.

Between contractions you buck up your hips so both of my hands can work toward opening you up, a mix of massaging and stretching and teasing that has you pulling me on top of you. I kiss you deeply before my mouth moves down your neck and chest, settling over one of your darkened nipples as my tongue playfully flicks and envelops the sensitive tip. You’re so caught up in the sensations that the next contraction—made so much stronger so much faster by the stimulation—takes you completely by surprise and you scream, pulling hastily back on your legs and riding your body’s instinct to push.

“Easy now,” I caution you, pushing back against the growing dome between your legs and carefully supporting the suddenly overly stretched skin. “Breathe.”

“I can’t!” you yell, throwing your head back for a quick inhale before curling forward again.

“Then pant, pant! Hoo-hoo-hoo. Like you’re blowing out a birthday candle.”

You try to emulate releasing quick puffs of air but it turns into one long groan that escalates back into a howl as the pressure of the baby’s head combines with my tugging fingers. You have to press your hands into your trembling knees just to try and keep them open. Another push and you see me looking down between your legs, seeing what seems like the whole outline of the huge head pressing out against my skin still trapped behind my relatively small hole. You collapse backward in defeat.

“It’s too big,” you whine as the contraction begins to fade. You’re sure a lot of women feel that way and it turns out fine, but damn does it feel true right now. I look a little concerned, so you pull yourself up, repositioning so that ypu’re on your knees facing me. You take one of your hands and put it back between my legs and position the other over your breast. With a deep breath in then out again, you announce “Guess we better get to work.”

“Next time you need to push, just make ‘mmm’ sounds OK?”

You look skeptical but nod anyway, and soon you start. You pitch rises, and I tell you to keep it slow and steady, focus on the breathing rather than the pushing.

You nod, as my hands do their work. My hand that’s dipped down between your legs is rubbing and softening the skin between them, pressing back against the hard bulge of the head just agonisingly close.

Your head is tucked into my shoulder, one hand steadying yourself against me, the other rubbing slow circles on your breast and nipple knowing how well that was helping before.

A full minute of that contraction passes and I feel some useful movement between your legs.

“Go and do that again” I say as another one picks up. I can see it’s taking all your concentration not to push hard, your hand that is resting on me shaking and passing the vibrations through to me.

“Think you have another one in you?” I ask as that contraction passes, your response practically begs me “Fuck… no, I need to push”

There’s nothing you can do this time as the contraction begins to build, you reach to grab the hand that was playing with your nipple earlier and press it into the mattress with the force of your push.

My hand cupped under you feels success though, your skin seems to peel apart as the head makes its way out of you, the skin rolling back over the head as more and more of it made its way out from inside of you.

“Back at it, quick!” I say as the push ends, and you do so, more of the head seeing fresh air. My hand pressed against your lips slowly moulds the skin back.

You finally relent, the contraction over with, the head now well on its way to a crown. You look into my eyes and can see I almost have tears forming. “You did it babe, you got over this. Might have a full crown in the next contraction.”

You know in your heart you felt everything but need to feel down between your legs to know it was real. You hand scrabbles down and you trace the outline of your opened lips, smiling, clearly approaching exhaustion now.

No time to rest though as another contraction builds.

Your whole hand can fit over the large dome coming out between your legs now—the skin of your vagina stretched in a vertical mountain over the straining head. It sits heavily right at your opening, a slow burn ready to flame to life at the next push. You keep your hand there as the contraction begins to build, feeling how your body squeezes and compresses even before you add any conscious force. You let out a long, slow breath, waiting until the tension grows and intensifies and you absolutely cannot refrain from bearing down with it.

You groan as you finally give into the primal urge, tilting your hips forward and back in time with your pushes, keeping hold of the delicate ring of flesh, alternating between easing it back and releasing it millimeter by millimeter, push after push until a proper crown begins to form.

My hands rub a circular route from my belly to around the curve of your ass, up your thighs, then back again. Suddenly you hold completely still and I follow suit, my hands poised in front of you for whatever you may need. “Mmm,” You moan, the hum echoing through your whole body as you lean forward with your hands pressed into my thighs as you push down, hard. It burns and you let out a strangled whine, but keep pushing. You take a breath and shuffle your knees open wider and push some more. I’m saying something sweet and encouraging, but you’re too focused to really hear it.

“Come on, baby,” you plead again, slumping forward against me as the contraction ends. “Mummy needs you to work with me here.” I tell you to take your time, that there’s no rush, but that’s easy to say when you don’t have a cantaloupe forcing itself out of your body.

“Maybe next one,” I suggest, trying to keep my spirits up.

“Next one,” you agree. It certainly needs to come soon, you’re feeling weary and exhausted with the effort.

Your knees start to hurt again so I help you unfold your legs so that we’re sitting face to face, your spread legs on the outside of mine with me situated in between. I grab a towel and twist it up into a rope, holding one end while offering you to hold the other. “Lean back,” I tell you when the next contraction starts.

“Holy fuck!” you cry, pulling against the towel as your focused on a powerful push and finally feel the head give some more. Your knees instinctually rise so they’re on either side of your belly, and I have a wonderful view of everything that’s happening. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s burning, it’s- babe, fuck!” you’re muttering explicit nonsense in between howls and wails as the intense searing stretch goes beyond whatever you thought possible. Nearly letting go of the towel and the push you suddenly hear me yelling out in my own exhuberant shout.

“It’s crowning!”

Your head snaps up at me, your expression a wonderful mix of joy, wonder, pain, fatigue and probably a dozen other emotions. Your eyes are wide and your mouth lets out a sudden yell - but it doesn’t sound pained as such, more victorious.

As the head reaches its peak, all the burning, searing pain you had been feeling finally relented, your nerves in your skin stretched to their limit and no longer functioning.

Time seemed to stop for you, your brain going a million miles a minute until your focus is back on me yelling at you

“Stop pushing, you’re at your widest, pant it out, please, you didn’t want to tear!”

You follow without thinking, letting out your breath in a slow, slow exhale. It seemed to take forever in that moment of slowed time between us, but suddenly there was a sound that could only be described as a ‘thwack’ as your tightly stretched vagina lips slid back at speed over the baby’s head.

The next moment seemed to take just as long to resolve in my mind.

Firstly jets of amniotic fluid came gushing out from around the head, shooting all the way across to me and coating my chest.

My view was suddenly focused on the back of a head lodged between your legs, said head being slightly cone shaped following its tight passage.

Pools of fluid were still draining out between your legs.

Miraculously you respond first. “Check for a cord” you manage in a croaky voice.

I nod and let go of the towel which you gather up and put to the side of you.

My hands reach down to the baby’s neck and slide down to the gap between it and your lips. I feel nothing caught.

“You’re good, let’s see, I think the head needs to turn now for the shoulders”

I now have a hand under the baby’s head supporting it as I feel you bounce left and right on your ass cheeks as if you’re shifting your weight to either side, the head rotates sideways and I finally get a good glance of the baby’s face.

I look up and once got tears in my eyes as I say to you “baby looks beautiful love.”

You wish you could see it for yourself too, but seeing the love shine through my eyes at our baby’s face is enough for now. You reach down and it’s still surprising that the whole head is outside of your body, that you can trace the outlines of it’s ears, nose, lips and chubby little cheeks. Your eyes well up to match me and I give your belly one last peck before it’s empty again. There’s nothing quite like this feeling, the power and strength of accomplishing such a feat at direct odds with the

softness and vulnerability that comes with being able to really see and touch your child for the first time.

The relief from delivering the head is short-lived as another contraction reminds me that your work is not yet done. The pressure in your stomach is slightly lessened with the release of so much amniotic fluid, but somehow seems to increase in your hips— seems this baby’s got broad shoulders too. You start panting and grip tightly to my forearm, not quite ready to give everything you have into another push just yet. You ride it out, giving low groans through the contraction until the insistent pressure returns and you feel the shoulders nudging at your opening.

“Are you ready?” I ask, alerted to the change in situation by your grip tightening on my arms.

The answer is an easy, “Yes.”

You move your hands to my shoulders to steady yourself and lean into the push. It’s harder than you thought it’d be for your already stretched skin to give way and as a result you let out a determined growl, then release your breath and dive back into another push. I assist with a little tug and that’s all it takes for the shoulders to pop over your tailbone and fill my opening all at once. You scream at the sudden burning stretch, but it only lasts a moment before the rest of the baby slides out quickly and easily on a river of amniotic fluid.

Your senses and emotions are immediately overwhelmed as this little red squalling beautiful thing is placed on your chest. You’re crying and shaking as you cradle it gingerly—it seems so small and vulnerable, and yet those little fists and feet are kicking out angrily at the uncomfortable eviction into this cold, loud, bright world.

“Hi, baby,” you coo wetly, gently patting its back and reaching for me to join us in the moment. I wrap us up in sun-warmed towels and kneel at your side, laughing through tears and peppering kisses all over your face and our baby’s head. You’re so caught up in the moment—the relief and awe and exhaustion and elation—that there’s one thing you missed. You shift the baby’s body a bit and peek under the towel, and the tears renew afresh. “A little boy!” You look back up at me in surprised joy, but I just chuckle—of course I’d already realised that as I lifted the baby up to your chest. “We have a son.” The realization settles over you as comfortably as me arms around your waist, and you have a feeling we’re both thinking the same thing.

We can’t wait to do this again.

After the brief moment of relief and satisfaction washed over us, I realised we had better call the midwife to make sure everything checked out right with the baby. I pulled out her phone and dialled her number to hear it go off just behind us in the house.

She walked out from the cabin we had rented with a broad smile on her face. I suddenly realised I’d handed her a spare key in case she needed to get in quickly and I couldn’t get away from you.

“You guys did really well. I figured things were hotting up when I heard the screams and moans from outside of my place… had to intervene with some hikers who were heading your way wondering what the commotion was all about. Here…”

She handed us both drinks, as I suddenly realised exactly how late it was. I mentally counted up - I’d been awake 6 hours with you, and no idea about how long you had been up during the night.

You handed off the baby to the midwife who clamped and cut the cord, and handed over the cup as you drank thirstily - all that heavy breathing and yelling had left you parched.

“So… I went to double check because I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be doing this out in the open where any old Tom, Dick or Harry could walk past…”

You grinned, feeling your strength return as you drank the liquid.

“It felt natural to do it in nature” you just said.

“Well… baby gets a good clean bill of health, and I dare say mum has come out all but unscathed too. Well done to both of you”

Another hour or so of paperwork, plenty more postnatal checks, and a complete placenta delivery later, we were laid in bed in the cabin, our small family of three, contemplating what we were going to do for the next week in our cabin.

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 7

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3.

Keyleth loves mornings. She loves the quietness of the world as the sun rises on the horizon, the chirp of birds on the trees welcoming the new day, and the idea that she has an entire day ahead of her. 

When the clock struck 9 a.m., Keyleth was already up, albeit still in her soft green pajamas. Vex’ahlia was still sleeping on the bed next to her, the massive shaggy dog curled at her feet, snoring softly. Keyleth and Vax’ildan weren’t supposed to leave for another two hours, but she wanted to try and get some studying done beforehand, so she picked up her books and headed to the kitchen.

Keyleth quickly turned on the coffee maker, starting a pot of coffee for her and her friends. Since she was usually one of the first people to wake up, she appointed herself with the task of making coffee for everyone. She had found out how much her roommates loved to wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning, and she wanted nothing more but to make them happy. 

As she prepared to start making breakfast, the sounds of footsteps surprised her as Vax turned around the corner, his sleepy eyes half closed, with messy loose hair and wearing only pajama bottoms. The vision of his tanned torso and the unkempt look of his hair was enough to make Keyleth’s heart race as a fire spread through her cheeks. 

“I guess it makes sense that you’re a morning person,” Vax greeted bashfully, his voice still hoarse from sleep, sending a weird warm feeling to Keyleth’s stomach.

Keyleth tried, but she couldn’t stop staring at him, especially his torso, as she noticed little marks of old scars and a bigger one on the left side of his abdomen. She finally willed herself to turn around, and without Vax in her eyesight, she eventually found her words again.

“Wou–would you like breakfast?” She offered, grabbing the carton of eggs.

“Sure, why not.” 

Keyleth tried to distract herself by making scrambled eggs and toast. However, during the whole process, all she could think about was Vax and what he would be doing – she had heard the soft scraping of a chair, so she guessed he had sat down. – Was he staring at her as she made them food? For some reason, that didn’t make her uncomfortable.

“How come you’re awake this early?” Keyleth asked after a while as she placed the sliced bread on the toaster. She heard the scrape of the chair again, and suddenly Vax was next to her, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard – she couldn’t help but smile as he grabbed her favorite cup – and poured coffee into them.

“I couldn’t sleep very well,” Vax replied with a shrug. 

Keyleth hummed and finished the eggs in silence, dividing them into two plates and adding the toast, and they sat at the kitchen table eating, her books long forgotten on the other side of it.

“Do you have insomnia?” Keyleth asked Vax, who nodded. “Yeah, me too sometimes. I have a really good tea for it. It never fails to make me fall asleep.”, Keyleth smiled at him, trying to keep her gaze focused on his face. “If you want, I can make you some next time you can’t sleep.” She offered.

“Thank you, Keyleth. That would be amazing,” Vax replied bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. Keyleth couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, and her eyes traveled to his arm as he flexed it next to his head, feeling herself melt in her chair.

“Are you okay?” Vax asked her with a mischievous smirk that made Keyleth’s stomach jump. She nodded, looking down as if suddenly, her empty plate was the most mesmerizing thing in the world.

“Just… not used to sharing a house with another man,” she mumbled, “you know... other than my dad.”

“I’m sorry, Keyleth. I can put on a shirt if you’re uncomfortable,” Vax offered, but Keyleth shook her head. “You can always tell me if I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable.” His smile was kind and warm.

“It’s okay. And I will.” She tried to reassure him.

“I’ll clean this up. Go get ready.” Vax gestured towards her bedroom as he started to collect the dishes on the table.

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” She teased him as Vax set the dishes in the sink.

“Go. Before I change my mind!” Vax chuckled, pointing the sponge at her with a menacing look.

Keyleth squealed and grabbed her books, running from the kitchen before he did change his mind and made her clean.

—

Vax knew how to cook. However, it was rare for him to cook his own meals, and because of this, he had never cared much for grocery shopping. He wasn’t a fan of supermarkets either, especially on big holidays and weekends, as they always felt too crowded, but he had to admit that getting groceries with Keyleth was a fun experience.

Vax couldn’t stop admiring how Keyleth fluttered around the stalls, examining all the fruits and vegetables. He smiled as she picked some apples, turned them in her hand to check for brown spots, and then brought them closer to her nose to smell them. Seemingly happy with whatever she was looking for – probably signs of freshness – Keyleth placed them in the cart and fluttered to another display of vegetables.

He was so lost in a trance that he didn’t notice an old couple looking at him with a smile until the older lady approached him, realizing he was standing in front of the display of tomatoes that they were trying to reach. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized with a smile as he pushed the cart a bit forward to give the lady room to reach the red fruits.

“She’s very pretty,” the old lady said sweetly, nodding to Keyleth, who was holding and examining one small pumpkin in each hand. 

“She is,” Vax stuttered, blushing. 

“You two make a cute couple,” the old lady said as she grabbed a handful of tomatoes and left with another kind smile. 

Vax was still speechless and red when Keyleth returned, holding a sizable pumpkin – much larger than what he needed – in her hands.

“Alright, vegetables are all done–” Keyleth scribbled something on the list, thankfully not paying attention to Vax, which allowed him to hide the blush. “Let’s go grab the eggs.”

Vax pushed the cart diligently through the aisles, and as he did, he started noticing that the supermarket was getting full, and a familiar nervousness filled his stomach. He tried to hide it from Keyleth, but soon his hands started shaking, and he stopped paying attention to where he was going, almost hitting someone else’s cart.

“Vax?” Keyleth called his name softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t like crowds,” Vax whispered, glancing around, his body tensing.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Keyleth said before she took off toward the eggs. Although it was easy to keep an eye on her, with her blazing red hair floating behind her back, Vax’s heart only unclenched when she was by his side, placing the cardboard carton in the cart. 

“We can go.” Keyleth nodded toward the registers, and Vax started pushing in their direction. Keyleth stayed close to him, making sure there was some sort of physical contact, either by placing her hand on his arm or pressing their shoulders together. It felt reassuring as if she wanted him to know he was not alone. Once they reached a relatively empty register, Vax tried helping her put the groceries on the belt, but Keyleth must have noticed that his hands were shaking.

“Vax, why don’t you go ahead with the bags? I’ll take care of this.” Her voice was sweet like honey, and Vax felt compelled to do as she told him. He nodded at her and pushed forward, his hand accidentally brushing the middle of her back. Vax felt Keyleth's muscles tense, and she released a shallow gasp as he crossed behind her, and alarm bells started ringing in his head. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned. It took her a while to answer, but she eventually nodded with a smile and a light blush on her cheeks.

By the time they arrived home, Vax felt much more relaxed, and his hands had stopped shaking, so he helped Keyleth put away the groceries.

“You can go to your room if you want,” Keyleth told him. He cocked his head at her, confused. “I know that was overwhelming, so it’s okay if you want to be alone.”

Vax lowered his head in embarrassment and didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t like crowds either,” she confessed. “I don’t like people looking at me. I feel like everyone is judging me, and I can’t breathe.”

Vax raised his eyes to her, seeing her lean against the island, not too far from him, and he nodded. “And it feels like something bad is going to happen.” He added, to which she nodded back.

“I felt safe today,” Keyleth admitted with a blush, “with you there. I knew you wouldn’t let anything bad happen.” She smiled softly at him. Vax blushed and started fumbling with his leather jacket. He felt the same way. Somehow, Keyleth’s presence made him feel less scared, and he realized he spent less time looking around for escape routes and more time absorbed in her fluttering about.

“If you really don’t mind…” He mumbled, and Keyleth shook her head, waving him off. 

“Go. I think I’m going to study anyway.”

“No studying today,” Vax scowled at her. “You need a break!”

“Okay! I’ll just go read a book then.” She chuckled.

“Good!” Vax smirked at her before he left her standing in the kitchen with a look of glee on her face.

[doccywhomst]

So, it's a well know fact that Eight smells of honey, so what do you think the rest of the Doctors would smell like (Yankee Candle Gallifrey Limited Edition Scents Range?)?

this is an incredible question, and i'm extra excited to answer it because i have smell-color/texture synesthesia! most of my senses overlap significantly - so let's switch on the smell-o-vision and see what's up.

first doctor: the attic. dust, vanilla, clean linen, wool. creaking floor boards. the smell that i associate with a bright window in a dark room. warmth. old, yellowing books. humming. somewhere in the distance, windchimes.

second doctor: the back garden. gardenias, petunias, roses. sweet but earthy. grass and rich, damp soil. cold water. a brook babbling over large, rounded rocks. a recorder. two people talking quietly, then laughing.

third doctor: the garage. metal, oil rags, newspapers, old boxes. clean clothes and grimy hands. a sigh of relief. someone scratching out notes with a fountain pen. operatic singing, including the instrumentals.

fourth doctor: the parlor. honeyed whiskey, smoke, old rugs, books. a drunken game of charades. a gramophone playing softly. glasses clinking. loud, booming laughter. scattered applause and a bow.

fifth doctor: the lawn. freshly cut grass, a cup of afternoon darjeeling with lemon. falling asleep in the sunshine while reading. "tangy." daisy chains. birds singing, friends strolling. ozone - chances of rain later. pages turning.

sixth doctor: the scullery. eggs, toast, ham, and fresh fruit. a spice cabinet. lavender soap. freshly-brewed coffee: two creams, three sugars. morning sunlight through a window prism. reading the paper with your feet up. a friendly and intellectual discussion.

seventh doctor: the library. ink, parchment, leather, your grandfather's cologne. brass knobs on locked mahogany doors. a clock ticking on the mantle. vases filled with fresh lilies. dusty photo albums. someone muttering. typewriter keys clacking. ding.

eighth doctor: the music room, adjacent to the library. the scents mingle with lemon furniture polish, old brocade upholstery, and oil paintings. velvet and satin. darjeeling with honey. an open window. sandalwood. a violin: the whole house sings with it.

shalka doctor: the basement near the cellar. red wine, cheese, oak, cinnamon. chaise lounges, wooden chests, decorative beaded lampshades from the 1920s. an Édith Piaf record plays quietly. framed sepia pictures on every surface. a fireplace glows with embers; he's taking a nap. there's a plate of snickerdoodles on the mantle. (thanks, six.)

war doctor: he hasn't been home in a while.

ninth doctor: the main stairway, just past the foyer. a little trace of every room, plus the metal slag and sulfur on his clothes. a dab of vanilla. halfway up the stairs or halfway down? up, he decides. humming, he reaches the top and wipes the blood from his boots. he hangs his jacket on a hook and smiles.

tenth doctor: the master bedroom, if you can call it that. it's mostly storage space: boxes, filing cabinets, drawers, antique desks, and shelves crammed with mementos. maps cover the walls, but he rarely looks at them. his bed is always made, and never slept in. wood pulp, musk, candle wax, ink, and roses.

eleventh doctor: the games room. chalk, polish, tea brewing, a splash of whiskey from the decanter. billiards and backgammon sets. the Candy Land and Monopoly boxes are well-loved but shelved. the arcades along the back wall are dark and dusty. in a corner, a man plays both sides of chess. he sighs.

twelfth doctor: the office. wood paneling, Persian rugs, a jukebox. piles and piles of ungraded essays. a coffee with ten sugars and a peeled orange. black nail polish, chocolate, spice. every book in the room has been read and annotated, twice. dents in the ceiling from throwing and catching a cricket ball. somewhere, a guitar strums. laughter.

thirteenth doctor: the balcony. fresh air. a hammock creaks. an empty flask of vodka, pink sunglasses, rainbow socks with toes. crystals and half-finished machines litter the stone. plants in painted pots, little gurgling fountains, trays of homemade incense baking in the sun. oh, and windchimes.

so, this turned into a bit of a poetry project, haha.... oops. if you got this far, i congratulate you. in the same way that Yankee Candle names can be very abstract, i wanted to capture the general mood of the doctors' scents and how they relate. ❤

[tearsofgrace]

the final rose: chapter 2

i wrote the next chapter only took me a million years

word count: 5.5k, tags: bachelorette, au, deancas fluff, cowboys

read on archive

Cas didn’t want to be here.

Well, that was a lie. 

He wanted to be here… but he wasn’t an obsessed bastard like the rest of the guys here. He wasn’t gonna cheat and fake it to get ahead. He hadn’t even submitted a damn audition tape. 

But he was here now, so he was gonna try. And Lisa seemed like a nice enough girl… maybe there was something there. And the guys, regardless of their questionable motives and outlooks on life, were miles beyond easy on the eyes. They were fucking hot. 

The first rose ceremony had been a mixture of nerves and hope. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was hopeful of getting sent home or getting to stay, but either way, he was here now. And there was no going back (he could leave… but honestly the free food and nice house made it worth sticking around for just a little longer). 

After they toasted, Lisa was whisked away and the producers briefed them on how the different rooms were assigned. Apparently, they weren’t even adult enough to decide their own sleeping arrangements, but he guessed they were probably doing it for the drama anyway. 

There were five or six guys in every room. Which was just fine by him. Until it wasn’t. 

A producer he didn’t know the name of led them up the stairs into the narrow hallway that led into several other bedrooms. He stood in front of one and called out five names. 

“Benny, Harry, Cas, Nick, and, uh,” he glanced down at a clipboard before pointing behind Cas, “Dean. You guys are in this one.” 

Cas felt his stomach drop but he kept his face set, there were still cameras on them, after all. Even at night. Even while they slept. Besides, he could deal with Nick, Benny, and even Dean for the short while it would take for them to get sent home. At least Harry wasn’t so bad. 

The producer moved on and the rest of the guys followed him while Dean and Benny shuffled into the room, followed by the other three. 

Cas walked to the center of the room where their suitcases lay waiting for them and grabbed his, barely sparing a glance at the rest of the guys before climbing onto the top bunk and falling back to stare at the ceiling. 

When he forced himself to sit back up, Benny and Harry had claimed the other bunk bed and Nick had sprawled dramatically on the twin in the corner. Dean was just standing in the middle of the room glancing around dumbly. 

He glared up at Benny who just shrugged and gestured at his claimed top bunk before jumping off it and rummaging through his suitcase. 

“Looks like you’re with me, Winchester,” Cas said, keeping his voice neutral but seething underneath. When Dean looked up at him with barely concealed horror he hid a smile. Time to make the straight boys uncomfortable. “As long as I’m on top,” he added as an afterthought. 

Dean just scoffed and grabbed his suitcases before shoving one under the bed and pulling a pair of gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt out. 

The other guys moved sluggishly after him, sitting up and rubbing their eyes before getting a change of clothes out. He half expected them to sleep in their tuxes… at least they weren’t that sloppy.  

There was only one bathroom on the whole second floor, which was maybe the stupidest part of the whole thing, so Benny, Nick, and Harry all got away to brush their teeth before all the other guys got there. 

Cas climbed down from his bed and grabbed his suitcase, resisting the urge to look up at Dean. It was just them in the room now. 

He was the exact kind of guy Cas had expected to find here. Arrogant, unfeeling, fuckboy vibes practically rolling off him. He was a dick. But Cas had plenty of experience with dicks. 

He changed quickly, and he could almost feel Dean’s eyes burning into him until he looked up and Dean jerked his head away. Cas smirked and climbed back onto the bed, exhaustion seeping in. 

Cas took deep breaths as the quiet sound of Dean’s clothes rustling filled the room. Then the bed shifted slightly as Dean settled in below him. With a sigh, he rolled over and pulled the blankets up closer around his neck. It was going to be a long couple of weeks. 

He woke up late, looking around blurrily as the sun filtered in through the small window in the corner. He could see Nick, Benny, and Harry all fast asleep in the beds across from him, but when he pulled himself down the ladder (why had he chosen a top bunk again?) Dean’s bed was neatly made and empty. 

Cas shrugged and grabbed some clothes from his suitcase before heading to the bathroom. Then he checked his watch, 8:07 am. Okay, so he hadn’t woken up that late. 

By the time he was heading down the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting up from the kitchen. His mouth watered and he rubbed his eyes as he wandered inside, ignoring the camera crew standing to the side and going over a clipboard.  

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said without looking up. “Chris is bringing by the first date card- God, that sounds stupid aloud,” Cas snorted in agreement, “Anyway, he’s bringing it by in an hour or so. I made some food. You hungry?” 

Cas squinted, looking at the man in front of him. This isn’t what he’d expected from Dean. Maybe from Mick or even Benny… They seemed like they had their lives together. But Dean? 

“What are you doing?” he finally asked. 

Dean frowned, looking back to the stove where he was stirring some scrambled eggs. “Making breakfast.” 

“Why are you up?” Cas asked, his head tilting further in confusion. 

He thought he saw a shadow flit briefly across Dean’s face but before he could be sure, it was gone. “Always get up early. It’s how my dad raised me. Now, c’mon. Get some food.” 

“Coffee first,” Cas said dryly, glancing back at the camera focused on them and pushing past Dean to the coffee pot. 

The other guys trickled down slowly, clapping Dean on the back and helping themselves to eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee. 

Dean took it all well, an easy smile on his face, and Cas felt a stab of jealousy. Pretty, a good cook, charismatic, must be a fun way to go through life. 

Some of the guys went out to the pool area, walking around the grounds, but most of them stayed inside, trading meaningless conversation. Before long, one of the producers who had been directing the cameras all morning got the guys from outside and gathered everyone in the living room. 

It’s all so fake, Cas thought bitterly, as the producers explained how there would be a knock on the door, Chris was coming to do the date card, blah blah blah. No one actually fell in love on this show. And if they did… then it was pure chance. 

He tried to school his face, mindful of the cameras, and looked up expectantly when Chris knocked. 

Gordon got up to get it and they watched him go, the forced conversation dying down. 

“Gentleman,” Chris said, rubbing his hands together as he walked into the room. “How’s it going? Liking the house?” 

Cas smiled and nodded with the rest of the guys, his eyes wandering around, staring pointlessly at the other contestants. 

“And what do we think of Lisa?” 

That got a bigger reaction, a murmur of conversation running through the room while a few guys got to say their piece. 

Good for them, they’ll make it into the episode, even if they don’t get chosen for the date. 

“Alright,” Chris said, after congratulating them all again, “Let’s talk about how this works. This week, there’ll be three dates. One group date, two one-on-one dates. If you get a rose on any of the dates, you’re safe. However, if you do not receive a rose on a one-on-one date, you will have to go home. Make the best of those. I have your first date card right here for the one-on-one.” 

Most of the guys had been zoning out through Chris’ whole explanation. They knew how it worked. They didn’t need to watch him say the same words he’d said over and over every year. But at the last sentence, they all leaned forward expectantly as he pulled out a white envelope.

“So,” Chris went on, twirling the envelope in his hands, “Have an awesome week. Enjoy your time with Lisa…” he glanced off at the producers for a thumbs up to keep going, “And I hope to see you all at the next rose ceremony.” 

He set the envelope on the table and they all stared, transfixed, as he left the room. 

Garth, who was sitting closest to it, glanced up at the producers, seeking direction, but got none. 

“Open it!” someone called. 

After a second, Nick shoved past Garth and grabbed the envelope with a sneer. “I’ll do it.” 

He pulled the card from the envelope slowly and Cas felt his hatred for this guy grow. He was looking around at everyone with a slight smirk touching the corners of his mouth, then he cleared his throat. 

“Benny,” he started, and everyone turned to look at the lucky winner. “Why don’t you and me have a reel good time?”

Nick snorted and handed the card to Benny, barely bothering to look at him. 

“Well, brother, you better go get ready,” Dean said, slapping him on the back. 

Benny stood up, looking dazed, and wandered up to his room. 

“Benny?” Michael said, voice dripping with scorn as soon as he left the room. “Like, seriously?”

“I know,” Nick agreed. 

Everyone else sat in silence, looking uncomfortably at the cameras. Eventually, one of the guys whose name had completely slipped Cas’ mind stood up and followed Benny upstairs. After that, everyone dispersed, looking for something to do in this beautiful mansion with no Wi-Fi, no TV, and no connections to their friends. 

Fun. 

Dean went to the producers and started making a list of different foods he wanted ordered. Garth went and sat by the pool, dipping his feet in without even rolling up his jeans. And Cas? He went upstairs to find his book, the one form of entertainment allowed in. 

He read all morning, already feeling like this was going to be the worst part. The waiting. The boredom. The constant cameras waiting for any sign of drama but mostly capturing the most mundane interactions that had ever happened on the planet. 

Benny came downstairs and everyone briefly looked up and wished him luck before he was on his way. 

And then they just waited, ate lunch--someone had ordered pizza. Ate dinner--still no sign of Benny. Of course not. These things took all day. 

Some of the guys decided to stay up and wait to see if Benny got a rose or not. If they had one more person to worry about or not. But Cas was beat. 

He moved towards the stairs and was stopped by a hand on his chest. 

“So?” 

He turned to see Anna staring at him, a clipboard in one hand and a headset dangling around her neck. 

“What?” he asked. 

“How’s it going?” a smile grew on her face. 

“Good,” he said simply.

“Come on, Castiel,” she said, looking around. “You’re doing me a big favor, at least tell me you like it.” 

“It’s going well. I’m glad I’m here,” he forced out, which seemed to satisfy her. 

“Good,” she said, moving out of the way. He started up the stairs but stopped when she called after him, “And Castiel?”

“What?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral. 

Her red hair glowed in the light of the mansion as her face softened. “Thanks for being here.” 

“Of course,” he said quietly, before turning and heading up the stairs. “Of course,” he muttered again once she was out of earshot. 

The next day came and Benny was still there, rose in hand, dazzling everyone with amazing stories of his night with Lisa. They’d gone to a real film studio and helped on set, then had a magical dinner in downtown LA. 

Cas tried to find the part of himself that was jealous, that wanted that time with Lisa, but it wasn’t there yet. It would be… he was sure. Just not yet. 

When the producers pulled him aside for an interview and asked him what getting on this groupdate would mean, he shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” 

When they pressed for more information he fought the urge to roll his eyes before saying, “Time with Lisa matters to everyone right now. But a group date isn’t a one-on-one.” 

Just then, the doorbell rang and they let him go meet the other guys in the living room, a few of them also trickling in from interviews. Garth went to get the card and stood at the front of the room, pulling everyone in with his magnetic yet ridiculous energy. Cas liked Garth. He was one of the only non-crazies in the house. 

“Alright, who’s ready?” he asked playfully, greeted by a loud cheer. Once things had quieted down, he pulled the card out and started reading. “Castiel,” Cas smiled, high-fiving the guys around him with enthusiasm he didn’t really feel. “Gabe,” this should be fun, “Asa, Cole, Garth,” he pointed to himself with a broad grin, “Aaron, Michael, Dean,” Cas zoned out after that, staring fixedly into the faces of the guys around him. 

All told, 14 guys were going on the date. 14 guys sharing time with Lisa. A recipe for the perfect night. 

Cas refocused his attention on Garth, who had finished the list of names and was now flipping the card over to read the date aloud. 

“Gentleman,” he started, and Cas wondered briefly if that was on the card or was Garth’s personal flair, “Let’s bare our souls. Love, Lisa.” 

Confusion settled over the room and everyone around him chattered excitedly about what it could mean. What secrets they would have to tell. Cas glanced up at Anna who had a smile touching the corners of her mouth. 

He’d seen enough seasons of this show to guess what it was. And he was not excited. 

They all got ready upstairs, crowding into each other’s space, barely enough room for the cameras to invade their privacy. He hadn’t seen guys like this care this much about their appearance since he was in college. And even then… well, it wasn’t exactly guys like this

It took three limos to get them all there. Which seemed like an extravagant waste of money but hey, it looked good on camera and that was what counted. 

No one really said anything on the ride. Made small talk, mostly. Not that there was much small talk left when they had no connection to the outside world. But there was something about the tiny interior of the limo, the cameras so close, that even at the producer’s leading questions the guys stayed quiet. 

When they finally stepped out into the bright sunshine, Cas let out a sigh of relief. 

Chuck was there waiting for them, and he gestured to a big building at the corner of the busy street they’d gotten off of and waved them forward, the whole time talking rapidly into the mic by his mouth. 

All the guys started making their way over and Cas followed, glancing up briefly at the sign on the building. Squinting against the sun, he could make out the word “Nightclub” in big block letters. 

Perfect. So it was what he thought. 

He looked back toward the building and saw Lisa standing in front of the big double doors, a broad grin fixed to her face. Her smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help a small smile back as all the guys gathered around. 

She exchanged a few words with a couple of them and then held her hands out to the building behind them. 

“You guys excited?”

“Yeah!” Garth shouted from the back, throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure. 

“Alright, alright,” Lisa laughed. “Anyone have a guess as to what we’re doing?” 

Yep. 

A hush fell over the group and Lisa laughed again. “Well, it’s gonna be super fun. And the best part is, it’s for charity.” 

The group cheered and Cas cast a side-eye at the rest of the group, seeing only Michael not clapping. Dick. 

“Anyway,” she said dramatically, her voice lowering as she turned toward the doors, “let’s find out what you got yourselves into.” 

The room they followed her into was dark and smokey and blue and pink strobe lights lit up the whole space. Loud music was playing through the speakers and Cas had to lean forward to hear Lisa as she led them into the room and directed them into a line. 

Then she turned toward a stage near the front and they all followed suit as the music stopped and the lights dimmed. 

A new song started and the lights started up again, this time in sync with the song. As they all watched, a line of men in cowboy hats (and heeled boots too, figures) walked out to the front of the stage, matching the steps to the beat. 

Yep, Cas thought bitterly. We’re gonna be baring it all. 

The strippers on stage started their dance as the contestants started coming to life, realizing what was happening. Cas watched the stage for a minute--cowboys weren’t really his thing--then turned curiously to see the rest of the group’s reactions. 

Most of them were looking incredulously at the stage, laughing nervously and cheering while their eyes opened to the fact that they were gonna be the ones up there soon enough. 

But something in the back caught Cas’ eye and he peered closer, letting his eyes adjust to the lights and the smoke. 

Dean was staring at the floor, color high in his cheeks, one hand raking through his hair as he shifted side-to-side. Cas glanced slowly from him up to the stage and a smirk slipped onto his face. Then Dean glanced up across the room, and for a split second, their eyes met. 

Cas cleared his throat and looked away, trying to make it seem like his eyes had been slipping over the crowd of guys. Really saved that one. 

Still. It was interesting. In an observationally interesting kind of way. 

Cas filed the interaction away for future reference and turned his attention back to the stage, where the stri- dancers had finished their show to a huge cheer from the guys and Lisa. 

Lisa walked out to the front of the group and gestured to a guy who’d come from some back room and was now standing next to her. His leather jacket was only done halfway up, showing his bare chest beneath. Cas nodded appreciatively as his eyes involuntarily moved up the guy’s body. This was more his style. 

“Boys,” Lisa started, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Scott. He’s gonna be helping us out today.” 

Scott nodded at her and turned to more fully face the guys. “Today, we’re going to be exposing you gentleman,” he paused briefly, glancing at the stage and smirking, “To the fine art of male exotic dancing.” Some of the braver guys in the group cheered again, but silence fell quickly. “Each of you will be performing on that stage later this afternoon. You’ll each have your own coach to help you, teach you the art.” 

Lisa stepped forward and smiled warmly at them. “If you guys are a little nervous, that’s okay. This is about trust. It’s about showing me why you’re here, and showing me you can have a great time. I don’t expect you guys to be great at it,” the guys all chuckled here and she joined in, “But I expect you to have fun with it.” 

“So,” Lisa’s smile widened and her eyes glinted, “Let’s get to some auditions!” 

The guys cheered as Chuck stepped forward, clipboard in hand. “Alright,” he shouted over the crowd. “Everyone up on the stage. Get loose, we wanna see some good dancing up there. You have three minutes to show Lisa what you got, and then we’ll decide which routine you’ll be doing.” 

The lights on the stage were bright, and Cas squinted up at them, resisting the urge to raise a hand. He could do this. He could do some stupid dance moves. He glanced over at Lisa, her head bent over a clipboard with Scott, a smile fixed to her face so natural she probably didn’t even know it was there. She was enjoying this. He could- he had to. 

The audition song went by excruciatingly slowly, everyone busting out their cringey dance moves and making as much eye contact as possible with Lisa. Cas felt the awkwardness seeping through him and his heart rate kicked up. This was just the goddamn beginning part. He could fucking do this. 

And then it stopped. Finally. 

Lisa and Scott made a few more notes on the clipboard they were holding, glancing up once or twice at the guys and whispering without pointing. 

Then Lisa walked forward with the clipboard in her hand. “Ready to find out how you’re stripping tonight?” she said playfully, winking at Michael who was standing in the front of the group. 

The guys all clapped, clearly feeling an energy that Cas didn’t. His world was still spinning, the lights and smoke crowding into his brain and leaving little room for thought. 

“There’ll be four different acts today,” Lisa went on. “Two groups of four--firemen and some policemen. One group of three, those guys will be robots. One duet for the cowboys. And,” she paused for effect, “One lucky gentleman will get to do a solo act all by himself as a bachelor!” 

Another round of cheering and Lisa shushed them all by holding the clipboard high. 

“Should I read the solo up to the groups of four, or the other way?” she asked seriously, looking over their heads at Chuck. 

Before he could reply, though, Michael shouted, “Tell us who the solo guy is!” 

This got a roar of approval from the guys so Lisa shrugged, glancing down at her clipboard as if to double check. 

“The solo act… drumroll, please,” the guys all started hitting their hands on their knees and Cas focused on his breathing, looking down at the floor, away from the lights, the noise… “Garth!” Lisa announced triumphantly. 

Everyone turned to look at him, slapping him on the back and grinning as he was ushered away but a coach. 

“The duet…” everyone started the drumroll again without prompting, “goes to Dean and Castiel!” 

Cas heard his name and looked up, trying to ignore the way everything was moving in slow motion around him. He nodded to the other guys mechanically and fixed a smile on his face, following the coach that took his arm and glancing back to see Dean walking behind him, his face flushed again. 

Once they were out of the room, Cas’ mind started to clear a little more, and he looked around, blinking. He could do this. He’d be fine. Just a duet… at least he hadn’t gotten the solo act. 

“Alright, my name’s Jay,” the coach said, slapping his hands together. He wasn’t bad looking, Cas mused softly, grounding himself more. “We have about an hour before you guys are supposed to get some sort of lunch, and then another two hours after that before call time. Which is plenty of time to learn about a two minute dance.” 

Cas gulped and glanced at Dean, who had lost his flustered look and was standing with a cocky grin on his face. 

“Let’s do this.” 

The guy took them through the steps, and Cas’ mind settled, falling into the routine. The first half wasn’t that bad. Simple stuff, more about owning the move than skill, according to Jay. 

But it was still fucking hard. Cas just wasn’t made to move like this. Not in front of a goddamn live audience. Even for charity. 

Dean, on the other hand, was a natural. He made all of it look easy, like he’d been doing it his whole life. And he did the whole thing with a swagger in his step that Cas knew for a fact had to be fake… but it sure didn’t look it. 

He kept turning to Cas and winking, giving him little pats on the back, hyping him up. And Cas didn’t want to admit it, but it did help… just a little bit. 

After an hour, both Dean and Cas were whisked away by crewmembers for a few interview questions. 

The questions were boring. How was he feeling? Some retroactive stuff like, what did he think when he walked in? How did Lisa look today? 

Cas answered mechanically, trying to seem excited and not terrified out of his mind. 

“And just one more,” Naomi said, tapping at her clipboard. “How’s working with Dean going?” 

“Good,” Cas said immediately, the word ripped from his mouth. “Dean’s good at this stuff.” 

Naomi just nodded distractedly and waved him away. “Right, right. Thanks, Castiel.” 

Cas stood and went into the main stage area where a buffet had been set up. He made a beeline for some honey and toast and then left the room, not bothering to chat it up and see how the other guys were doing. 

When he walked back into the rehearsal space, Dean was standing alone in the room, lifting up and examining the cowboy costumes layed out in the center. 

Cas cleared his throat and Dean started, whipping around to face him. “Hello, Dean.” The costume dropped to the floor. 

“Uh, hey, man.” 

Cas took a bite of his toast and regarded him thoughtfully. “Cowboys?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Dean shrugged and looked down at the outfit. “Wild West was fu-” he glanced at the cameraman behind Cas, “Friggin’ awesome, dude. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a Western?” he added with a lopsided grin. 

“Just Brokeback Mountain,” Cas shot back. 

Dean gulped and dropped his gaze. “I’ve never- I don’t know what that is.” 

Before Cas could answer Ajay walked back in and pointed to the outfits laid out on the floor. 

“Get changed. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right,” he sipped from the iced coffee in his hand and cocked his hip. “Then the real fun starts.” 

In the bathroom, Cas slipped the thin material over his head, his chest starting to feel tight again. He made sure all the velcro was tight (he didn’t want it to slip before it was supposed to come off) and then walked out to the mirror where Dean stood waiting. 

“Looking good, Cas,” Dean said, one eyebrow quirked up as his eyes tracked over Cas- no, over Cas’ clothes. 

“What the hell are we doing?” Cas muttered, hoping it was quiet enough that the mic pack wouldn’t pick it up. There were no cameras in here, at least, thank God. 

Dean frowned. “What?” 

“I can’t- They’re making us strip, Dean,” he said pointedly, still keeping his voice a whisper. “In front of a bunch of strangers. In goddamn cowboy outfits. What the hell are we doing?” 

Dean chuckled a little then stepped forward and reached up, straightening the bolo tie around Cas’ neck. 

“We’re just having some fun. Remember why you’re here, man,” he added, before dropping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. He stayed there for a minute, their eyes meeting, and then he turned. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” he tossed over his shoulder, pushing open the door. 

“Let’s go,” Cas repeated, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was from nerves or-

He shook off the thought and followed Dean through the door. He was fine. They got this. 

The rest of the dance was even easier than the first half. Cas was starting to think he wasn’t going to make a total fool of himself when Jay turned off the music and spread his hands wide. 

“Right. So now, we just got to learn the stripping part of it.” 

Cas gulped, his eyes going wide. Jay pointed out the various releases on their clothing, tips for getting it off easily, and then left them to practice, his trained eyes watching them carefully. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dean got the hang of it in like two seconds. The shirt came off and he whipped it in the air like a lasso before looking at Cas and blushing. Cas just stared back, eyes wide. 

Dean let the shirt fall to his side, his eyes still fixed on Cas, a curious expression on his face. And Cas, he couldn’t help but stare back.

Then, from behind them, Jay cleared his throat. 

Cas let his gaze slip slowly away from Dean and looked to Jay. His eyes were drifting back and forth between Dean and Cas, but after a second, his eyes landed permanently on Cas. “We need you to learn this too, Castiel. We only have about an hour until you guys need to be in hair and makeup.” 

“Makeup?” They both turned to look at Dean.

“Yeah,” Jay continued, “Just simple stuff, makes you look better on stage. Now, c’mon. Let’s finish up here.” 

Eventually, Cas got it. It wasn’t that difficult, the rip-away pants and shirt came right off. Dean’s eyes burned into him the whole time, and he pretended he didn’t notice. Pretended he didn’t see his eyes jerking away as soon as Cas looked up at him. 

He could do this. He was never going to make hundreds in tips but maybe it was enough for an audience of Bachelor superfans.

Hair and makeup didn’t take long, the producers pulled them away for another round of interviews, and then they were standing with the other guys backstage waiting for the audience to trickle in. 

A few of them were fidgeting nervously, but most of them were peaking past the wall, looking at where Lisa sat in the front row. 

They were going second. Right after Garth, who had pulled Naomi to the side and asked to go first. Still, Cas was glad they were getting it over with. Better to go now when his heart was still beating then in about twenty minutes when it had stopped completely. 

By the time Garth was waltzing out onto the stage, a grin that could be described nicely as goofy and more accurately as idiotic plastered to his face, Cas could barely think straight. 

A song Cas didn’t know started playing and Garth opened the buttons on his bachelor costume ever so slightly as he got into his routine. Next to him, Dean chuckled appreciatively and whispered, “Werewolves in London. Good choice.” 

Cas’ could only nod, the song became foggy and distant and the lights danced around him again. He felt his breathing pick up again and he looked down, blurry eyes making out his shaking hands. 

Shit. 

He didn’t know how much time passed. Didn’t notice himself swaying. Didn’t notice the camera guy getting closer to make sure he had a good shot. 

And then he was falling. 

The jerk of arms stopping his fall brought him back to the world, everything coming back into focus. Dean gripped his shoulders tightly and stood him up, pulling him away from the cameras, hiding at the back of the group. 

“Hey, man,” Dean said urgently, his hands tightening briefly before dropping entirely. “It’s okay.”

Cas gulped and silently cursed. Great. Panic attack on national TV and in front of De- Lisa--check. His Bachelorette Bucket List was going great. 

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

“No you’re not,” Dean shot back immediately. 

“It’s-” 

One of the P.A.'s Cas didn’t know tapped the back of his shoulder and he whirled around. 

“You guys are on in about thirty you need to-” 

“Give us a damn second,” Dean cut in. “Look at me.” 

Cas turned back to face him and took a deep breath. 

“You sure you’re good? We don’t have to do this.” 

Cas inhaled deeply again before letting it out. “Yes. I’m- I’ll be okay.” 

Dean met his eyes for what felt like another ten minutes before finally nodding, the concern slipping from his face. “Then let’s fucking do it.” 

He ignored the disapproving stare on the P.A.‘s face at his word-choice and led the way through the crowd and up the stairs. 

Cas followed him, eyes on Dean’s back, too shaken to look anywhere else. 

The music started up and they took the stage, the crowd going wild, Lisa in the front with a soft smile, her hands crossed over her legs as she leaned forward. 

He glanced at Dean just one more time, and then turned to face the crowd. 

Let’s fucking do this. 

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 5 ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary:  You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 2K+

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hola!!!! Hope everyone is safe at home! This continues the story as a some sort of a series re-write. It won’t be something of all the episodes but the main ones of where Spooky appears. Hope you guys like this and always feel free to leave some feedback is so appreciated it.  | MESSAGE BOX | HAPPY READING!!!

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

Title: Ain’t Nobody Business 

Chapters: Uno - Dos - Tres - Cuatro

“There is enough food in the fridge to last you at least two weeks,” you told Cesar as you left the bags of extra things for him on top of the counter. “Clean towels and bed sheets in the closet.” 

Cesar looked around your apartment in silence. His body language told you he was deeply unsure about him staying here. 

“It’s not much but… is quiet,” at that moment Lunch Money started to loudly sound in the background. You turned around to see Jasmine dancing to it in the backyard. Your eyes went back to Cesar, “Ish.” 

He gave you a flat smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s the last I can do…” you told him. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “How can someone like you be with someone like my brother?” Cesar’s words were cold and filled with resentment towards his brother. You sighed softly holding both arms crossed onto your chest. 

“Oscar is going through a lot right now,” you told him, “he didn’t want this for you. It’s-,” you let out a sigh trying not to say too much, “it’s complicated, mijo.” 

“Everything is always so fucking complicated and I’m not your mijo.”

“Damn,” you scoffed, “for someone who hates his brother, you damn sure act like him.” Cesar rolled his eyes looking away. “That’s just life, Cesar,” you said. “For now, tienes un techo y comida and you don’t have to sleep inside a car by the street or random hostels. You’re safe here.” 

It was hard for Cesar to see the good in this fucked up situation, after all he was just a kid to have all these problems and to be out of a home. He looked at you with sad eyes before sitting on your bed. “I’m here because Monse is making me say yes to this but… thank you, you’re right I hate my brother but you’re good for him.”

“I’ll see you at school,” you said softly, “try to stay out of trouble. Por favor.” 

Cesar nodded and the corner of your lip curved. Grabbing your bag from the counter you walked out of your place with a duffle bag hanging from your shoulder and strolled to Oscar’s. There were a couple of Santos in his front yard as usual. All of them giving you respectful nods as you made your way into the house. 

Oscar got startled by the loud sound of your duffel bag when it hit the floor. He was cooking something in the kitchen. You chuckled at the way his entire body shook. 

“¿Todo bien?” 

Oscar shook his head, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“The big bad Spooky,” you mocked. 

He clicked his tongue, “Shut up.” Once finally in front of him, he held you by the waist and placed a kiss on your lips. “How'd it go?” He looked you in the eye, silently allowing himself to show the worry he felt through his eyes. 

You gave him a look that let him know he was being well taken care of. Since Oscar was a kid taking care of his little brother has been his only job. He might not have taken the best decisions while doing so but making sure he was okay was always his priority. 

“Cesar is at my place and for now he is safe but…” you sighed, “he is a kid, Oscar. He shouldn’t be in the streets. He needs his brother, he needs to be in his home.” 

Oscar clenched his jaw, having a seat in his small dining room. 

“¿Tu crees que yo quiero que el este en las calles?” he told you, his eyes still full of worry. “Es mi hermano y lo amo pero… esto es complicado.”

You sat across the table from him, “I get that is complicated but there has to be a way to make this right. How long until the prophets know he’s staying at my place? Or something worse happens…” 

“Don’t say that,” he cut you off.

“He is not part of The Santos anymore, you can’t protect him,” you told him. “I know his friends are scheming and trying to look for solutions.” Standing up you looked down at him, “You should do the same.”

Oscar arched an eyebrow, “Do you have any ideas?”

“Maybe start with your boss, Cuchillos?” 

His shoulders tensed at the sound of the name Cuchillos, standing up he stood tall in front of you. “Cuchillos was the one who told me to kick him out, unless I have a good plan that benefies her, I can’t speak about it.” 

You caressed his arm trying to soothe the stress away, “We will figure this out… I don’t know how but encontraremos la manera.” Oscar kissed your forehead, holding your face with his hand.

After the small intimate moment you went into his room and smiled at the smell of Fabuloso. “Did you clean?” You shouted from the room.

Oscar appeared behind you, “Si.” He leaned against the door frame watching you place your bag on top of his well made bed.  

“Where can I put my things?” You asked him. 

He smirked as he walked behind you and reached his dresser opening the first two drawers of it. “Here,” he said and then opened the closet, “and here.”

“You really made some space for me…” you were a bit shooked of how much space Oscar had created for you. He was looking at you with sparkles in his eyes. 

“Wanted you to feel at home so…,” he held your hand and walked you down the hall and into an empty room. In there there was a made up desk and chair, right in front of the window. You recognized the room from years ago, it was his mother’s room.

“You,” you turned to look him in the eye, “you did this for me?” 

He shrugged, the small smirk didn’t vanish, “I know you’re going to need a quiet space to work and there’s always people here… I can’t expect you grading papers by the kitchen when there’s a lot of guys just shouting by the window.” 

You tiptoed your way to his lips, giving him a soft long kiss.

“I guess you liked your small office,” he whispered. 

“I love it,” you said, looking over your shoulder at the space, “but I know it was your mother’s room… It looks like it’s never been used.”

“Is because I haven’t,” he said. “When she died I got rid of all her stuff except this,” he reached the desk and grabbed an old notebook from it. “It was her… kind of a diary. It was the only thing that wasn’t toxic..” 

He held onto that notebook like it was the only good memory he had of his mom and maybe it was. You kissed his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Is nothing,” he whispered back. 

“It is,” you said softly, caressing the side of his face. “You are making sure I am comfortable here and that I feel like home. I love that and… I love you.” 

Oscar’s eyes sparkled when he heard the words I love you. He instantly began to kiss your lips. The soft kiss turned into a more passionate one in a matter of seconds. Your body began to get heated. Leaving the notebook back on top of the desk, he then proceeds to lift your body and carry you into the bedroom. 

/ / / 

You were woken up by a chicano rap sounding loudly from the backyard. Letting out a harsh groan you stood up from Oscar’s bed and walked out of the room. The house was empty but it smelled like someone just lit a cigarette, the smoke was still floating around. Following the music you walked to the backyard to find Oscar and Sad Eyes working on the red chevy impala. 

A smirk formed on your face, watching how sexy Oscar looked working on his beloved car. Sad Eyes cleared his throat when he noticed your presence. Your boyfriend's eyes met yours in a matter of seconds, then his sight went down to your body, chucking to himself. 

You looked down and remembered you were only wearing your Selena shirt. 

Oscar got off his car hood and walked towards you, “Buenos dias.” 

The smile on your face was kissed by his lips, “Buenos dias.” 

He pulled back, looking down. “Nice shirt.” 

“I know, right?” You winked turning around and walking back inside to get ready for the day. 

You weren’t surprised to see Oscar’s fridge to be fully stocked and the coffee freshly made in the coffee pot. He was the leader of a dangerous Mexican gang but damn was he domestic as fuck. You began to make breakfast for you and the two cholos working hard outside. 

“¿Que haces ma’? Oscar entered the kitchen sweat spots showing on his grey tank. 

“Making breakfast for us and Sad Eyes,” you said going back to chopping chilli peppers. 

He slipped the tank off his muscular body as he walked towards the bathroom. “Sad Eyes went home to his ruca. I’m taking a shower.” 

“More for me,” you muttered as you shrugged. 

“Heard that!” He shouted from the hallway, making you laugh.

While Oscar took a shower you continued to cook the rest of the breakfast. You made scrambled eggs with tomatoes and chilli peppers, toast and bacon. Once those were done you served it nicely on a plate and poured coffee for the two. 

“Yo, that smells amazing,” he walked into the kitchen.

Sitting down you shrugged smugly, “¿Que? You think you’re the only one who knows to cook?”

Oscar sat down smirking, “No, reina. You do your thing too.” 

“You better say that,” you said as you began to eat.

“Damn,” he said as soon as he took the first bite and continued to eat.

It was nice to see him eat and enjoy your food. When you two were teenagers you didn’t have this domestic feel, not even weeks ago when you were sleeping with each other. He would always cook or you would always have to run out the door. Staying with him was giving your relationship a whole new aspect and to be honest, you liked it. 

“Good?” You had a sip of your coffee. 

“So fucking good,” he said between bites.

You smiled, “It was made with love.” Oscar’s eyes looked up and shot a wink as he continued eating. “Are you driving me to work?”

“Do you want me to drive you to work?”

“Si.” You said without hesitating. 

Oscar licked his thumb, “What about your co-workers and shit?”

You shrugged, “I told you I don’t care what people say. I’m with you and if they have something to say, they better not say it to my face because I’ll react.”

He was so proud and turned on by your sassiness and by how sure of what you wanted you were. “I’ll drive you, chula.”

You were biting on your bacon when he said that, smiling you winked at him and continued to have the rest of your food. 

He drove you to the school, his hand rested on top of your thigh through the short trip. This type of normal was new for you two but it felt good for both. 

“Look at us being official and shit,” Oscar said, “you made me breakfast, me driving you to work. You are staying with me.” He held your hand and kissed the back of it. 

You leaned towards him and kissed his cheek, “I love it.”

“Yo mas,” he said back. 

He pulled over by the school just in the same moment Cesar and his friends were strolling in. All of them instantly spotted the bright red Chevy and began to whisper between them. You also spotted the principal waiting outside the school. 

“Ma’,” Oscar held your hand before you could step out of the car.

You looked into his eyes, “Mhm?” 

“Careful,” he almost whispered. 

You nodded as you gave him a soft smile and stood out of his car. You ignored the stares some of the students were giving you and strolled into the school. As you continued to walk towards your classroom the principal Ms. Gonzales joined. 

“Good morning,” she spoke after clearing her throat.

Taking a deep breath in, you looked at her and smiled. “Buenos dias.” 

“I noticed that Spooky dropped you off at school today?”

“I’m sorry,” you stopped walking and stood in the middle of the hallway.

“I don’t want to seem like I am in everyone’s business-,”

“That’s something everyone says when they are about to get in someone’s business.” 

She fixed her glasses, arching her eyebrow, “Spooky is the leader of the Santos and I don’t like to explain to the parents of the students that one of my teachers is dating the leader of a gang and also teaching history.”

“My personal life doesn’t take any of my capabilities of teaching these kids.”

“Well, it does get in the way of the image of this school.”

You rolled your eyes not believing what she was saying, “Image? Are we in fucking Brentwood? We have gang members as students, there’s no image to keep up. This is Freeridge.”

Gonzales' eyes went wide open after you cursed in front of her face. “Y/N that is not the proper language to use with your boss.”

“¿Y estar de metiche en mi vida personal lo es? I’m sorry Mrs. Gonzales but what I do outside or work or who I date is none of this school or your business.”

Part Seis

tags are open

@flamingweasley​​ @dolanackles​​ @lcandothisallday​​​ @mmelissarenee​​ @donnaintx​​ @blckgrl-sunflower​

[maknaesdancersrappers]

kinkmas2019: for old times’ sake

member/s: Johnny & Jaehyun

warning/s: DP, triolism, & cuckold

wc:  4.4k

a/n: i just wanna tell everyone to read and give love to chocojaehyun’s philophobia uwu

“Honey.”

You look up from folding the laundry fresh from the dryer and wait for your husband appear from the open door. In a few seconds, he peeks in and smiles at you.

“Honey, would you mind if a friend stays over for a few days?”

“I’d have to clean up the guest room, but I don’t mind. Which friend of yours is staying over?”

Johnny walks over and sits beside you, picking up a shirt and began to fold it. You smile to yourself, although you didn’t mind doing chores, he still wanted to help you with them. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you about him. He’s my best friend from Korea, met him during middle school. Man, we were inseparable until high school graduation.”

“And then you moved away.” You finished for him and he sighed with a nod.

“Yeah. We kept in contact and all, I even wanted to invite him to our wedding, but times were rough for him back then.” He frowns for a moment, “He has a job opportunity here and he doesn’t want to look into buying an apartment if he isn’t sure about getting the job. You’ll love him, honey. He’s great company.”

You hummed, moving onto the next basket of laundry that needed folding, “What’s his name?”

“Jaehyun.”

“And he ended up in the hospital because of those 4 extra shots of espresso!”

You gasped, trying to stop yourself from laughing; especially not at the fact your husband could have died way back, “You are not allowed to have anymore coffee, Johnny!”

“That was years ago! And I don’t even put a single extra shot of espresso in my coffee anymore!” He whines before smacking Jaehyun’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “Of all the stories, really?”

Jaehyun merely chuckles, taking a sip from the coffee you prepared for him. His flight arrived at night and Johnny picked him up from the airport. When they arrived home, it was around two in the morning and you had fallen back asleep despite promising to stay awake for when they came back. 

You woke up early to prepare a complete breakfast, not sure if he had any food allergies so you made sure to even add vegetarian and vegan options. Fortunately, Jaehyun wasn’t a picky eater. Johnny introduced you when they woke up from the smell of freshly brewed coffee and Jaehyun’s been gossiping about Johnny’s high school life with you for the past hour.

“Johnny already told me how you two met, but I want to hear your side of the story. Is it true you kept going back to the cafe you saw him at?”

You scoffed in disbelief, darting your eyes at Johnny, who suddenly took immense interest in finding the berries in his oatmeal. “Is that what he told you? Because in my memory, I was the regular at the cafe and it was him that kept coming back. And I know the baristas can back me up on it.”

Jaehyun snorts, “I knew you made it sound too good to be true.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, “Either way! We met at a cafe, I asked her out, and here we are three years later.”

“How about you, Jaehyun? Do you have anyone in your life?”

He dramatically sighs, prompting Johnny to snicker. He shakes his head at you, “No, I don’t. I’m not into committed relationships.”

Your husband leans closer to you and loudly whispers, “This guy sleeps around; you know how it goes, that whole fuck boy trope.”

“Ya!” Jaehyun scolds, “That was high school! I’ve changed. Give me some credit!”

The three of you finished breakfast and Jaehyun insists he does the dishes, but you refuse, “Not today. I’m sure you’re still tired from your flight and this just routine for me; it might take awhile for me to get used to a third person in the house.”

You hadn’t meant to be a housewife, but ever since you got laid off from work from months ago, you hadn’t found another one and Johnny thought it would be best you rest for a bit instead of going through multiple rejections. You were glad that you had saved up a lot of your money to not worry about paying for your share of the bills.

“Don’t argue with her,” Johnny conspires behind Jaehyun, “Her house, her rules.”

They let you do your chores; Johnny gets ready for his work and Jaehyun keeps to himself in his room, probably unpacking and catching a few more hours of sleep before he leaves before lunchtime for the interview.

For the next days, it almost feels like he wasn’t there at all. You only ever interacted with him when Johnny was around. 

One night, as Johnny cuddled you to sleep, you meekly asked him about how Jaehyun felt about you.

“I think he’s just keeping his distance; you’re my wife and all.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

Johnny shrugs, “Well… I never told you but,”

“Oh my god, you two fucked before, didn’t you?”

He starts laughing, “No! Well—”

You gasped, prying your arms away and turning to face him, “I never knew you were gay!”

“I’m not! Honey, listen to me for a second, alright? Jaehyun and I used to… share…”

The room is dead silent; even the soft music from Jaehyun’s room across the hall could be heard through the walls. You blinked at him, “Share… girls…?”

“Don’t say it like that; you make it sound like we’re objectifying women. I mean, we participated in a lot of… threesomes.”

“Oh.” You feel yourself sinking back into the bed.

Johnny sighs, moving you back around to spoon you. His breath is right in your ear when he starts to explain, “I didn’t really tell you about him because then I’d feel compelled to tell you about everything we did and I don’t know how you’d feel about that.”

“Your past doesn’t define you, baby,” You comforted, “And so what if you were into threesomes? People have different things that get you off.”

“Yeah. Now only you get me off.” He playfully bites your earlobe and you laughed, shying away from the action.

“I’m surprised you had girls agreeing to sleep with both of the same time.”

“It’s ‘cause…” Johnny trails off, “Those girls were… uhm, our exes.”

You turned your head to face him, “What?”

He groans, dragging his hand over his face, “We’d convinced our then-girlfriends into having the other join, sometimes we’d just watch and—”

“Jack off in the corner?” You finished for him with a surprised hitch in your voice. You never thought your husband was into that; he gets jealous when someone from your old work was too buddy with you and he was solely devoted to you, never giving you reason to suspect him for cheating. Yet here you are finding out he lets his best friend sleep with his girlfriends with or without him in the equation. You gasp, slow and softly, “Do you want him to fuck me?”

“W-wha— what? N-no?”

“Then why did your dick twitch against my ass when I asked that?” You sit up once more and stared him down, “Johnny, honesty doesn’t hurt.”

“I don’t want you to think that the idea is so appealing that you’ll force yourself to consider it.”

You suck your lips in and released it with a pop, “Okay, but what if… I’m curious?”

“Really?” He sits up as well, “Honey, I swear you don’t have to say these things for me.”

“No, I’m genuinely curious!” You defended, “I wasn’t very sexually adventurous—and you know that.”

Johnny puts his hands over yours, running his thumb over your knuckles. He’s deep in thought; contemplating the idea until you leaned forward and kissed his cheek, catching him off guard.

“Unless, you don’t want me to, then that’s fine.”

“It’s just,” He licks his lips, “I don’t know how Jaehyun would feel about it. Sure, we did it back then, but that was different. Those were girlfriends, y-you’re my wife.”

“Well, it’s your call, love.” You sighed, grinning as you suddenly straddled his lap and he stares up at you with wide eyes, “Now, let’s take care of that boner you got, hm?”

You were setting the table when Johnny and Jaehyun came back home; earlier today, Jaehyun would be finding out if he’s getting the job or he’ll be finding the next flight home. They paced up to you with somber expressions and you feel your heart sink, “Did you get the job?”

They share a solemn expression and your brain starts formulating sympathetic responses for both of them until Jaehyun smiles and they both pull out wine bottles in each hand from behind their backs. “I got the job!”

“Oh my god! Jaehyun, congrats!”

He shrugs, “It’s at a completely different state though, but still a decent paying job and they’ll provide me an apartment!”

“This calls for a celebration!”

The wine they brought home was downed within the next two hours, the three of you all giddily share the last glasses in the living room while talking about anything under the sun. You weren’t a lightweight but considering this was the fourth bottle of red wine, you were definitely borderline drunk.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for letting me stay this week.” Jaehyun clears his throat, “I promise when I’ll pay you guys back somehow; maybe I’ll host you guys in my new place if it’s big enough.”

“We’ll look forward to that.” Johnny raises his glass for a toast and Jaehyun clinks his glass against his and you join in. “Maybe by then, you’ll have a lady in your life.”

Jaehyun laughs at this, shaking his head in dismissal, “Maybe.”

You put your glass down and lay your head on Johnny’s shoulder, “Oh, Jaehyun, would you like me to introduce you to some of my friends? If you’re anything like Johnny, then my friends will like you right away.”

He tilts his head at the statement, curiously peering at the two of you, and Johnny chuckles, the vibration of it tickles you.

“Rumor has it [Y/N]’s friends all have a crush on me.” He shrugs the unoccupied shoulder and kisses your head, “But can you blame them?”

You playfully smack his chest and roll your eyes, “You put friendships at stake, John. If you hadn’t put a ring on it, they wouldn’t have stopped pining over you.”

Jaehyun whistles, “Never pegged you to be the type to ruin friendships, Johnny.”

“You know me, Jae, I know when boundaries are crossed.”

“What did you do…” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself from asking, “when the other’s girlfriend started to like the other…?”

Johnny freezes under your touch and Jaehyun’s eyes slowly blinked in confusion until he understood what you meant.

“Oh…” Your husband pauses, “Uhm, well, I don’t think we ever had to deal with something like that. But the girlfriends we had back then weren’t that serious; we’d prioritize our friendship, I guess?”

You look at Jaehyun, who nods to Johnny’s words. You press yourself onto Johnny, humming lowly, “Is that why you aren’t keen about sharing me?”

Jaehyun was drinking the last drop of his wine, almost choking it out when he heard your question. He stares at you briefly before moving his gaze up Johnny, who was at a loss for words.

Feeling brazen and fueled by the alcohol in your system, you sit up and put a hand on his chest, “You liked the idea of it last night.”

“What?” Jaehyun interjects, putting his wine glass on the coffee table, “I thought that phase was done, Johnny. She’s your wife. I can’t—”

“Why not?” You cut him off and he’s taken aback.

“I-I’m not an adulterer.”

“But you have my consent, if ever, and more importantly, the husband’s consent.”

Jaehyun brings his attention back to his friend, carefully asking with disbelief in his voice, “Johnny?”

He’d been awfully quiet the entire time, bringing a hand to your thigh and gently rubbed it. “You said the other day that you miss the good old days.”

“But she’s your wife.” Jaehyun repeats.

“She is and she’s also right… You know I wouldn’t do this with any other guy, man. No one’s gonna know except for the three of us and we’re celebrating right now; what better way to celebrate than having sex.”

“With your wife.”

You sighed, “Okay, if you’re not up to it, then I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything afterwards, twiddling his thumbs in awkwardness. Johnny takes the hint and announces that they should get ready for bed and you start cleaning up, but Jaehyun insists that he does that for you and you relent after Johnny convinces you to.

You pondered about the situation as you took a quick shower. It was a little disappointing that Jaehyun wasn’t up to it, but it didn’t entirely upset you either. The last thing you want to come off as to your husband’s best friend is that you’re a wanton woman and you most definitely didn’t want to force him into doing something he wasn’t comfortable with. It’s commendable that he cares about you and Johnny’s marriage more than getting laid and you might not have known him from way back, but you can tell that he’s matured from being the “fuck boy” Johnny claims him to be.

As you dry your body off with a towel, you can vaguely hear voices outside the room but think nothing of it. Maybe Jaehyun was just dropping by to say good night or something. You put your bathrobe on and tied it around your waist, flipping the light switch off as you stepped out. A gasp escapes you when you see Jaehyun standing by the foot of the bed with Johnny, your hand instinctively gripping at the chest area of your robe.

“Honey,” Johnny says, “Jaehyun changed his mind.”

Those words alone made your knees quiver in excitement, “Oh? What changed your mind?”

He shrugs his shoulders, forcing out a chuckle, “I don’t know… for old time’s sake?”

“Are you still up for it, hon?”

You nodded your head, trying not to make it seem like you’re eager to do so.

Johnny turns to Jaehyun, “Well, she’s all yours.”

“No ground rules? Uhm, I don’t have a condom.”

“No condom. I have an implant,” You wave your hand, “Johnny and I aren’t financially ready to have kids so we don’t need the condom if you’re worried about accidentally impregnating me.”

“Okay, then.”

“Ah,” Johnny exclaims just as he sits on the chaise where you do your make up, “Her ass is mine. I miss it.”

You roll your eyes at him, scoffing to yourself as you approached Jaehyun. You looked up at him, seeing the faintest sun spots across his cheeks and the daintiest mole near his eye. During the entire time week, you never stood this close to him. “Can you lead and I’ll just… follow along?”

He gives you an easy smile, nodding at your request. “Okay.” He whispers.

Jaehyun reaches up behind you, tugging at the bun you put your hair into before getting into the shower until your tresses cascade down your back. He puts his hand on the knot you made over your robe and waits for you to give him a signal before pulling it to release the sash.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears; almost feeling scandalized to be undressed by a man who isn’t your husband. You glanced at him, seeing his figure leaned back and enjoying the show so far.

“Don’t look at me, love. I’m not the one touching you.” He reminds and you bring your face back up to Jaehyun.

He starts to peel the robe off you, one shoulder at a time, before he lets it fall to the floor. Under his breath, you could hear the softest sound of astonishment as his eyes raked down your body, making you feel more confident than shy.

Jaehyun ducks his head down and you think he’s about to kiss you, but he dives straight onto the crook of your neck, giving it the softest little pecks. His hands ghosted over your waist, like he was still unsure if he could touch you.

You pulled him closer by the nape, threading your fingers through his hair, and pushed your bare chest against him as an invitation for him to hold you.

He gets the hint, gliding his palms over your back. His hands were so warm, a little rough, but the way they danced over your skin made it seem otherwise. He starts to nudge you, moving you closer to the bed and sat you down on it.

You watched him pull his shirt off and you almost felt your mouth water at the sight of his body; and you thought Johnny was fit. Jaehyun’s muscles were more defined, rippling with every movement he made. You’re distracted by the evident outline of his cock in his pants and you looked up at him as you touched his belt.

He gives you a little nod and you begin to unbuckle his belt and pop the button of his pants, like a child eagerly opening a birthday present. You push his pants down and Johnny chuckles at the corner of the room, “Oh, Jae, you’re gonna love this.”

With the praise from your husband, you hook your fingers over Jaehyun’s underwear and tugged it down until it joined his pants around his ankles. His cock bobbed as it escaped its confines, not fully hard, the head was blush pink with prominent veins trailing down his length.

You took him into your hand, lightly squeezing the base before running your fist along his shaft repeatedly in a languid motion. You felt him grow in your hand, thicker and longer with every throb; at the first pearl of pre-cum, you took him in your mouth and Jaehyun groaned, instinctively putting a hand on the back of your head.

You inched your way down, easing him closer to the back of your throat; flattening your tongue against the underside. When you hollowed out your cheeks, he curses; gripping at your hair. The pain zaps through your scalp and it makes you moan, which sends extra vibrations around his cock. You grab his hips and hold him steady, taking all of him into your mouth until the tip is right at your throat and you can feel him about to cum.

But then Jaehyun pulls you away, forcing you onto your back on the bed with a surprised gasp.

“I’m sorry, was that too harsh?”

“Don’t worry, she likes it rough.” Johnny has a hand over his crotch, palming himself over his pants.

You scoot further into the bed, spreading your legs to present yourself to Jaehyun. You bite down on your lip, turned on by seeing your husband touch himself and Jaehyun’s cock dripping with your saliva.

He crawls over your body, kissing up your legs, hips, and settled one of your breasts, sucking at your nipple while thumbing your clit. He pushes two fingers inside of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch; your walls welcoming his fingers eagerly.

“You’re so wet.” Jaehyun hums, moving his mouth over to your other nipple.

You start to writhe once he reaches deep enough to brush his fingertips over your sweet spot. You buck right into his hand and the sight makes Jaehyun chuckle.

“Are you already coming? From my fingers alone?”

He retracts his fingers and sits up, spreading your essence that coated his fingers over his cock before propping your legs over his thighs.

You impatiently waited to have him, switching your gaze to Johnny, who had kicked his own pants off and seeing your husband’s cock, red and leaking, only whet your sexual appetite. Your attention is brought back to Jaehyun when he runs his tip along your folds, teasing you for a few seconds until he stops right at your entrance and begins to push in.

You gasped, sitting up and throwing an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders. You watched as enters further into you; an abhorrent scene of another man sinking his cock inside your depths that only your husband had access for the past three years. 

Jaehyun scoops you up by your ass, having you straddle him as he knelt. “Can you show me how you ride Johnny, [Y/N]?”

“Of course,” You laughed, putting both your hands on his shoulders and raised your hips up, “I’ll show you how I make him go crazy.”

You sank back down him immediately, making sure you clenched when he was inside you all the way to the hilt before repeating the action. Maybe you’ve grown accustomed to Johnny’s dick because everything felt different with Jaehyun; the way he stretched you, the way he hit deep inside, how he held onto you, and urge you to keep going.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned, falling back a bit, letting go of your hips to support his weight.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Johnny comes up behind you, shedding his shirt off, and taking the lube you two kept in the nightstand for special nights. He coats his cock with what’s left in the tube, a telltale sign how much you’ve used it, and kisses you, using his clean hand to cup your face. “Been addicted to her pussy since the first time.”

You giggled at him, only to gasp when his (very cold) lube coated fingers probed your anus. You sucked your bottom lip in when he pushes a finger inside.

“Ah—” Jaehyun hisses, “You’re getting tighter.”

“[Y/N] is just excited.” Johnny gets onto the bed behind you, replacing his finger with the head of his cock. “Hell, had I known she wanted to be in a threesome, I would have booked you a flight here myself.”

He eases himself inside of you and you halt your movements on Jaehyun, mewling as you took every inch of Johnny. Jaehyun sits back up, guiding your legs around his waist with a wicked smile on his face. It was a little unsettling to see his scheming expression, but Johnny trusted him and that’s enough for you to trust him as well.

“I’m not gonna last long.” Jaehyun admits, gripping at your ass and spreading it apart for Johnny.

“Let’s show my wife how we did it back then, hm?” Johnny kisses your neck.

They start to thrust into you in pattern that seemed premeditated; when one was entering, the other is pulling out. Each of them had their own particular strength when they thrusted and you’re a moaning mess in between, holding onto Jaehyun for some sort of support. Johnny’s hands roughly kneaded your breasts in his palms while kissing marks down your nape and shoulder.

You couldn’t stop the choked moans and gasps falling from your mouth, overwhelmed with so much pleasure you’ve never had before. You couldn’t even open your eyes, tightly shutting them knowing they’d just roll back into your head. The knot in your stomach is unfurling at such a fast rate that you didn’t feel your orgasm hitting you until you’re twitching violently, trapped between two strong bodies.  You let out a cry, slamming your back against Johnny’s chest and digging your nails in Jaehyun’s biceps.

Johnny angles your head towards him, drowning your cries with a kiss. “You’re doing good, baby. Can you hold on for me and Jaehyun, hm?”

You mewled, unable to stop your body’s trembling, gasping for air as if it’s been knocked right out of you.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jaehyun grits through his teeth, hips moving a little more desperately and unsyncing with Johnny’s movement, causing another whine to emanate from you.

“Inside.” You begged, peeking out from one eye, “Cum inside.”

Jaehyun looks at Johnny, who nods at him.

“I’m close, too.” Johnny grunts, keeping the pace of his thrusts.

You heaved loudly, feeling another wave of your orgasm coming. You take one of their hands and put one over each breast, motioning for them to squeeze them. They don’t have any qualms about it, quick to obey what you wanted.

Jaehyun comes first, stilling completely and shooting his hot seed — and even that felt foreign to you. He grunts, slowly pulling out despite your walls clamping down since Johnny was still going at it from behind. He falls down on his knees and pushes his leaking cum back inside of your with two fingers, plunging his digits repeatedly.

You come with Johnny; bodies reacting differently when ecstasy hits. You grabbed Jaehyun’s wrist in a vain effort to stop him, violently quaking in sporadic bursts. Johnny, on the other hand, hollows out into you, groaning loudly and throwing his head back. It’s been awhile since you’ve done it anally, but you swear it feels better and better every time.

Retracting his fingers, Jaehyun sits back on his legs, catching his breath as he watches Johnny pull out of you and smiles when he hugs you to his chest, kissing your hair. You’re on the brink of falling asleep when Jaehyun starts to move off the bed.

“I’m gonna shower.” He groans, stretching his back. “Damn, I can’t be that old.”

“I’m gonna shower, too.” Johnny moves you off of him and delicately lays you on the bed, “I’ll get you a wet towel.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, glancing at Jaehyun. “You, too, Jaehyun. Thanks for… this? I suppose.”

He chuckles, “Thanks, too.”

“If ever this pretty little thing wants a round two,” Johnny pinches your ass, making you yelp, “And you’re still single, then…”

“Yeah, sure. Give me a call.” Jaehyun stands up, after slipping his underwear on. “Maybe I’ll stay single for you guys.”

“Aw,” You coo, “Don’t hold back, Jaehyun. She’s out there; who knows, maybe she’d like to join.”

He snaps his head at you, eyes wide with shock before moving to Johnny, who does the same. You shrug your shoulders at them, faking innocence at what you’ve just suggested. 

“I’ve made a monster.” He conspires, prompting you to slap his thigh. He laughs, grabbing your hand and kissing your ring. “But we’ll never know until we try.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun laughs, “Let me find her first!”

[thesunshinebunny]

Idk if your taking requests right nowww buuut can you do Erik and Damian fighting over s/o? Ahhh sorry if I’m weird nahsjshjd I love ur writing btw❤️💕💖

Oh boy…ohhhhhhh boooy!!! The house is on FIRE

Thank u so much for your sweet comment ❤️❤️❤️❤️

PD: I maaaaaaaaaaaaayyy have used as reference The Prince vs The Brute episode (maybe, it’s a big maybe)

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The day started like any other, a normal day. The sun rising at the horizon, one or two birds singing, the wind hitting lightly on the window and the heat of spring entering through the pores of the skin. Except that, in a normal life, you don't have five incubi sleeping under your same roof, waiting like any mortal for the first rays of the sun to start a productive day. Nor on a normal day is the slight knock on the door, knowing that one of the incubros awaits your response on the other side of it.

But these were normal days for you.

With a hoarse voice you allowed to enter the incubus who was waiting patiently, ignoring the reason for his morning awakening.

"I'm sorry it's too early, I couldn't go back to sleep and ... well, I made you breakfast"

Ahh, Damien, as thoughtful as ever. Even in your sleepy state you could feel the sweetness in his voice and how his feet moved on the carpet, avoiding making any noise that could bother you.

"This is the best way to wake up, thanks Damien." You felt the sheets sink to the empty side of the bed. Damien put the tray on the nightstand and waited for you to straighten up and be able to calmly open your eyes.

It took a few seconds, but when you were finally able to take your eyes off, your sight was rewarded with the warm orange-haired smile. But when your nose unconsciously smelled the aroma of toast with Nutella, your stomach growled with hunger. What a shame.

"Pff- hahaha, I'm glad to hear that you're hungry. I did a lot of things to tell the truth ”

He was right. On the tray you could see the pair of toasts, a cup of freshly made black coffee, a glass with orange juice, a bowl with small slices of fruits and some mini waffles in the shape of a bear.

"How adorable Damien, thank you very much."

"Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness, but ... oh, I see you've already been awakened." Erik was standing under the doorway, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. His gaze however didn’t find yours but his younger brother.

"Good morning Erik, the flowers look beautiful"

"Ah yes! These flowers are fresh from the gazebo, I hope they’re for your delight, your Highness ”

He put the bouquet down on my nightstand and gave you a nice smile before heading back to the door. "I was going to say that breakfast was going to be ready in a few minutes, but apparently my brother went ahead"

And with that he closed the door, leaving you and Damien alone in the room again.

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During the noon and afternoon, having the mansion almost empty, you devoted yourself to review notes and books that were left in virtual classes. But still spending boring hours just reading, you also had the time to teach Damien. For weeks you was teaching him to read and write and now he can write the whole alphabet and read kids short stories. Sometimes you can see the frustrated face when he try to read your books and don't succeed. 

And that's where you come to the rescue! (baby steps Damien, baby steps)

“The audi… audio-visual montage is a process of uniting… uniting…”

"Uniting pieces of film to create sequences, ending in a final tape"

You appeared discreetly in the library doorframe. Damien was trying again to read a book from one of your subjects and from what you could hear, he had improved, but he had problems him a few words.

"You know the whole book backwards?" Damien scoffed slightly, setting the book down on the small coffee table.

"More or less, I mean, they are going to take an exam soon, it’s better to learn it as soon as possible"

You sat next to him on the sofa, leaving some children's stories on the table. A friend of your parents, who had become a father few years ago, lent them to you for a certain time.

"Thank you for helping me, but you shouldn't waste your time on me." He put his hand over yours and gave you a slight yet sad smile.

"No problem Damien, I like to help you and spend time with you" His eyes began to shine, but not because he’s about to cry, on the contrary, you could see a slight happiness in them. Which disappeared when a melody began to sound from the living room. 

Someone was playing the piano. 

The tune was slow and smooth, I would say even romantic. You and Damien went down the stairs to the source of the sound. In the living room, sitting at the piano, was Erik with a small glass pot with a red rose on it.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness, Damien. I'm sorry for the sound, but it had been days since I played a little ballad and seeing this little rose when I returned from work gave me the necessary energy ”

His slow voice accompanied the notes of the melody, as if he’s singing. As you went down the big stairs, Damien stayed behind you, watching as his older brother used his boring compliments. Perhaps the evening sunrays made the scene more romantic than Damien wanted to accept.

He watched how your gaze was lost between Erik's skillful fingers on the piano and how his gaze was lost on your innocent and happy smile. Damien's eyes flashed with determination; determination of not to let his brother win your heart.

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"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!"

"I'm trying to make us dinner, I don't know what you are trying to do"

A great uproar could be heard coming from the kitchen. Damien and Erik were apparently trying to cook in unison, but they couldn't get along with each other, much less make a decently cooked meal.

"Erik, it should be impossible to say this, but you are burning the water."

"And you Damien, dear little brother, you don't know how to clean a fish bone"

"Do you think you can do better?!"

"What The Hell Is Going On Here?!?!" James stormed into the kitchen to find his two younger brothers barely making a pitched battle in it. Pots scattered on the countertops, small puddles of water and bits of scales on the floor. You didn't have to have the ability to read minds to know that James wasn’t just fucking them up and down, but that he was counting from 0 to 1000 in milliseconds so as not to kill them right now.

“Both of you. OUT. NOW ” Both brothers left the sight of James with their heads down and when they were about to cross the threshold the brunette spoke again “If you have something to fix or just want to have a real fight, go outside to the gazeboo”

When they went out to the dining room they could hear their brother talking on the phone, apparently ordering Chinese food since the food had been spoiled.

"If you end up destroying the plants I will kill you"

A minute later, loud screams could be heard from outside the mansion.

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"What's going on outside? Who is fighting?” You ran downstars to the dining room trying to understand the situation. You had heard a few small screams a few minutes ago, but didn’t understood a word, not even the context.

"Miss / Mister, you better stay out of this..."

"James? What do you mean?" The incubus was standing in front of the front door holding two bags, apparently of Chinese food. Weird coming from James, who was always willing to cook.

“Well… let's say… Erik and Damien have some business to settle. I don't think it's a good idea that you get involved. ”

You understood very well the fighting between brothers, it was something that an outsider to that bond couldn’t fully involve. You’re about to help James bring the food to the table when the screaming from outside increased.

"YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOW HOW TO SEDUCE ?!"

"WITH OR WITHOUT MY GIFTS OF SEDUCTION I WILL MAKE THEM FALL IN LOVE WITH ME"

What? What they were fighting about? Or… maybe… for WHO were they fighting?

"I LOVE THEM. I LOVE (Y/N) AS I NEVER LOVED BEFORE”

Oh no. They were fighting over you. 

That’s not good.

"I LOVE THEM TOO, AND I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THEIR HEART WITHOUT FIGHTING"

You bolted out the door of the gazebo and opened it wide. Even before opening it, you could feel a slight charge of their powers, they were about to transform into their original form and it was better to stop this.

"You better stop that RIGHT NOW"

Both brothers were frozen in their places. Damien's skin tattoos peeked over the collar of his shirt and Erik's eyes shone with that golden color characteristic of his race. They stared at you for a long time, so long it made it uncomfortable. You were about to speak again when Erik cut you off.

“You heard our fight, we have nothing to hide" His eyes returned to normal and he gave Damien and you a sad look.

"I don't want to continue fighting anymore" Damien instead tried to avoid your gaze, like a sad and wet dog, but something in the environment prevented him from avoiding it for a long time.

"Me neither" Erik looked you straight in the eyes while giving off an intense aura "The decision is yours, your Highness"

"Erik! You can't ask them like that out of nowhere”

"It’s not our place to decide who is best for them. It’s their heart”

"In that ... you're right" Damien walked to position himself in front of you "The decision is yours"

.

.

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[imnotwolverine]

A warm heart(h)

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: The Christmas vibes continue, including some cute moments with Marianne, Henry’s mom. No smut, just fluff this time <3 Have a nice Wednesday! 

Word count: 3.985

Disclaimer: fluff 

--

This is part 14 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the Masterlist here. 

--

< Go back to part 13

He speaks just like his father, I thought, looking at the two men as they were chatting.

I was sitting in the back of the car while Henry and his father were sitting in front, their melodic voices having an animated conversation which I couldn’t quite follow over the loud racket. Was it about Henry’s motorcycles? Or Kal? 

I soon gave up my futile attempts to figure it out as the car continued to hurdle itself over the loud, bumpy country road that seemed to go on for miles now. I let out a silent sigh as I pressed my travel weary head against the cold glass of the SUV and looked outside. The fields were freshly frosted with white tips of snow, the crisp white merging almost seamlessly with the grey sea in the distance.

The Jersey Islands were every bit as picturesque as Henry had described them. Its rocky cliffs held up an island that was coasted with a number of quaint little villages, a natural reserve, a castle and a zoo. Especially the zoo held a special place in his heart. He had spoken about it in great length while he had shown me some pictures of the Durrell challenge - a yearly running event he was an ambassador for. Yes, this island sure seemed nice and I could totally imagine him as a small boy, running through the fields, climbing in the trees and diving in the sea on a hot summer’s day.

‘You okay back there dear?’ Henry’s voice awoke me from my stare. I sat up a bit, leaning forward so he could hear me over the loud noise. ‘I’m fine.’ The car shook wildly as it drove over a pothole. ‘Could use a cup of tea though.’ I said, touching his cheek. He smiled, moving his head slightly to rub his cheek into my hand. I sniffled, seeing the look his dad was giving us.

Colin was everything you expected a dad to be. A big, burly man with a small heart and that unmistakable dad humour that made everyone cringe in slight embarrassment. The same embarrassment I kind of felt right now, as Henry finished his very eager cheek rub by planting a loving kiss in the palm of my hand. Henry and Colin shared a look between them that I could not fully decipher, but it sure was something along the lines of; “Like it or not, dad, I’m going full PDA in your face.” To which Colin thought “Oh will you now? Be careful before me and your mom start doing the same.”

I snickered at the thought.  

‘We’re almost there lovebirds. Almost.’ Colin rumbled.

—

This week was all about Christmas. We had started off with a small dinner at our place with some of Henry’s friends on Monday. Henry and I had cooked some simple fair since we had little time on our hands, but it had been fun nonetheless. Henry’s friends were surprisingly normal people. Mostly middle aged, slightly balding men with wives who definitely over-plucked their eyebrows. And boy could they drink. It had been a while since I last had a hangover, but Tuesday definitely was hangover day. Much to Henry’s amusement, who had had his hangover from hell just a week earlier. Aren’t we quite the pair?

Thursday we had flown to the Netherlands for a Christmas dinner with my parents. And I must say. I don’t think I’ve ever, ever in my life, seen my mom act this awkwardly around guests. She was fidgeting endlessly, getting up at every whim to ask Henry if he really didn’t need anything else. Coffee? Tea? Beer? Wine? She had downed almost a whole bottle of red wine before she had calmed down to the point that we could have an actual conversation. Poor mom. Thankfully, other then a bit of an awkward start, it had been nice. Kal had totally captured my parent’s hearts - yes they are dog lovers - and Henry’s down to earth, relaxed demeanour had further calmed their worries about “their daughter dating this movie star”.

And now we had finally arrived at his parent’s home. A house that quite perfectly fit the bill of “countryside”, it’s shape barn-like and the large number of classically glazed windows offering a lovely view over the crisp white fields around us.

The car drove up a small driveway as the wheels crunched over the freshly fallen snow. ‘Good thing you arrived early. There’s more snow expected later this afternoon.’ Colin said in his rich brit accent, turning his steering wheel to park the car underneath the carport. ‘Home sweet home.’ Henry cheered in equal vibrant brit timber - he sure got his voice from his dad - jumping out of the car to reach for my door and hold it open. I felt slightly embarrassed by his never ending gallantry as I accepted his reached out hand. ‘Milady.’ He smiled, earning an amused chuckle from me. ‘Darling.’ I mused, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before moving to the back of the car to help his father move our suitcases inside.

—

The house was surprisingly large. We arrived in a spacious hallway, which was heavily decorated; wreaths wrapped around the staircase railing, hundreds of small lights that adorned every nook and cranny, and a small Christmas tree to boot. If you think English countryside at Christmas, this was probably the first thing you’d imagine.

We stalled our suitcases next to the door as Marianne appeared from the kitchen, her appearance every bit the dainty housemother. She was wearing a pink apron, her pale blond hair neatly coiffed, as her hands were still wrapped around a big white mixing bowl. ‘My dears! Come in, come in! Let me put this down real quick.’ She moved back inside the kitchen as Henry followed her, his step as excited as that of a kid who just came home from school. I followed them, walking into the spacious kitchen.

What a dream kitchen. In the middle there was a large oak and grey granite kitchen island with some bar stools, which was surrounded by dove grey kitchen cabinets stretching along one side of the wall, the other wall offering a handsome view over the surrounding meadows through the many, many windows. The air was already filled with a mixture of scents. Roasting meat, spices, sweet cake, a hint of coffee. Hmmm. I took an appreciative deep breath while Henry gave his mother a big bear hug.

‘It smells delicious in here Marianne!’ I exclaimed as she unfolded herself from Henry’s embrace, reaching out her arms to also give me a hug. She smiled. ‘Well it’s Christmas only once a year!’ She cooed, wrapping her skinny arms around me. I noticed in the corner of my eye that Henry had already moved to the stove, stirring one of the pots and eagerly sniffing in the smells. ‘Mmm! This is going to be delicious mom. Any idea when the others will arrive?’ Henry asked, looking at his mom as she joined him at the stove. ‘Not until five [o’clock]. Piers and Charlie are out for a long hike with the wives and kids.. and they only left like..half an hour ago. So plenty of time to get comfortable. Can I get you two something to drink? Eat?’ She put the lid back on the pot that Henry was stirring, gesturing him to sit down. He smiled, kissing his mother on the forehead before moving to one of the bar stools. I also sat down and sighed: ‘A cup of tea, no milk, no sugar, would be..most welcome right now.’

Marianne nodded, a half-smile painted on her lips as she noticed the exhaustion slip through my smiles. She didn’t hesitate a moment to put a kettle on the stove. ‘And you dear?’ She quickly peered at Henry, whom had aimed his gaze at me. I looked from his mom back at him, a silent question in my eyes. ‘You okay dear?’ He brushed a hand over my back, looking at me intently. ‘I’m okay. Really. Just a bit tired. A cup of tea would do me wonders right now.’ I said, offering him a reassuring smile. He nodded, his lips turning in a soft smile before looking back at his mother. ‘Tea would be lovely mum, thanks.’

—

A few hours later the others returned from their hike. Within moments the quiet house was filled with trampling children’s feet, laughter and the rich smell of the hot cocoa I had been making together with Marianne - I had been helping her out in the kitchen.

It was the first time meeting Charlie, Piers and their wives and children, but thankfully this was once again a really relaxed meet-up. The Cavills - or should I say Cavilleers as they called themselves? - truly appeared to be a friendly lot. They acted like I had been part of this family for years already, which was the best and most comforting feeling in the world.

While dinner was being prepared the kids had folded themselves in some blankets in front of the television, the adults busying themselves with setting up the table and sipping on well-earned glasses of hot, spiced wine. This was as Christmassy as one could get, I decided, leaning against one of the kitchen countertops while Marianne instructed the men what should go where.

‘How long have you been cooking them Christmas dinners now?’ I asked as she turned back around to sip on her wine. She shrugged. ‘Forever and a day. I believe I started when I met Colin. And well..now there’s five grown boys and then some.’ She smiled, taking another sip. Piers had wandered back in the kitchen. ‘Anything else?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly. ‘Oh no, that’ll be all. I think in 15 minutes we’re ready for the first course.’ Marianne smiled. Piers didn’t waste a moment, turning on his heel and slipping back to the living room where the others were residing.

I felt her grey blue eyes giving me a warm, yet curious look-over. ‘It’s quite different without all those fans around, no?’ She winked, walking back to the stove to stir in the curried leak-potato soup that was slowly heating up. ‘Yes. A whole, whole lot more relaxed. And thank you again for having me for dinner. Truly. Shall I toast the toppings real quick or do you want them fresh?’ I asked, moving to the kitchen island where all garnishes and toppings were neatly splayed out.

‘Oh perhaps that’d be nice. Yes, a quick toast of the almonds would be great. Good thinking.’ She smiled, pointing at a pan I could use. ‘Do you and Henry cook together?’ She asked as I started toasting the almonds, her hand still languidly stirring the soup. ‘As often as we can, though on workdays it’s currently mostly me doing the cooking since he’s home much later.’ I shrugged, tilting the pan with a short tug to skilfully flip the roasting almonds. ‘And for you and Colin?’ ‘Same.’ She shrugged in turn. We both chuckled.

‘You know I’ve never seen him so..openly affectionate with anyone.’ Marianne said, offering a cheeky smile. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks - or was it the hot stove? - and smiled awkwardly. ‘Well I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never known any other Henry.’ Our eyes met again, both amused. ‘Has he always been so chivalrous?…That’s the word right? Chivalrous?’ I asked. ‘Yes, that word totally befits him. Oh goodness. From the moment he could talk he’d say “please” and “thank you”. Obsessing over these fantasy books of his, imagining himself to be Sir Lancelot or the likes. The courteous behaviour kind of stuck from there.’ Marianne crooned, recalling the sweet memory. ‘That’s adorable… And so befitting him.’ I chuckled, removing the almonds from the fire.

‘And I heard he met your parents? What was that like?’ I heard Marianne ask as I scooped the almonds back in a small container. ‘Oh..super awkward. But fun nonetheless. It’s was a bit of a challenge for my parents to speak English and well..let’s say..my mom was not totally ready for his good looks?’

Marianne laughed heartily as she turned away from the stove to give me another look up and down. ‘My dear you are so pretty yourself I hardly believe you never brought home some handsome gent before you met Henry.’ She praised. I shook my head. ‘Only one. And he was good looking, sure. But not..the Henry-kind of good looking. If I had been my mom, I’d TOTALLY have stared as well hahah.’ We shared another knowing look before both bursting out laughing, the hot wine making our cheeks glow.

‘Ladies…’

We quickly straightened our faces, suppressing further chuckles as Henry appeared in the doorway. ‘Are we almost ready for the first course?’ He asked, looking at both our rosy cheeked faces, an amused smile brushing over his lips. We both nodded, wide smiles on our faces as Marianne turned down the hob and took a deep breath to calm her chuckles. ‘Yes dear. Let us eat. Can you call for the others?’ She said, laughter still thick in her pretty brit accent. Henry nodded slowly, not fully wanting to leave now his curiosity had peaked regarding the conversation me and his mom had just had.

“Go” I gestured with my eyes, seeing him hesitate. He peered at us for another moment. ‘Alright then. Keep your secrets, fair ladies.’ He said, winking and striding back towards the living room.

And so started the yearly Cavill Christmas dinner.

—

A half a wine rack of wine bottles later, the kids put to bed and the fireplace cracking, we had settled down for a cozy night.

The others were playing a board game on the kitchen table, while me, Henry and Marianne had made ourselves comfortable near the fireplace. Marianne had sat down on one of the couches, me and Henry on the opposing couch. We spoke a bit about some meddling subjects. Maintenance of the house. Colin’s retirement. The health of some family members. Holiday plans from Marianne and Colin.

I couldn’t help but slowly sink deeper and deeper into Henry’s chest, the fireplace and his heavy arm blanketing me in a soothing warm embrace. Before long my eyes started to droop, my ears no longer registering the conversation as I fell into a most welcome slumber after this long month of almost constant travelling.

—

‘So how are you two doing?’

His mother’s voice sounded through the thick veil of sleep. Were we still in the living room?

Probably, I decided. I could feel the gentle heat from the fireplace near us and hear the distinct sound of fire crackling. I got intrigued by the conversation and couldn’t help myself but remain completely still so they wouldn’t know I was listening, feigning to still be deep asleep, my head now resting on Henry’s lap.

‘Good mom. So good.’ Henry spoke. I could imagine him smiling right now, as his hands were slowly caressing my hair. ‘I didn’t know a relationship could be this ..normal. I feel like a normal person with her and that is more than I could ever have asked for.’ He halted petting my hair as his body slightly shifted, one of his hands untangling from my hair as I heard some soft footsteps on the carpet near us. Probably someone was reaching him a drink, as I now felt his abs press into the back of my head as he bent forward.

‘Thanks,’ He said, relaxing back into the seat, his one hand free hand continuing to caress my hair softly.

‘Oh darling. I can’t be happier. Finally! Goodness..’ His mother’s voice was a bit shivery. ‘Mom..’ Henry said sweetly - probably giving her that sweet, knowing smile. ‘Oh I’m being silly. It’s just..ooph..’ She snouted her nose in something. ‘..It’s just that I was feeling so sad for you. You were trying so hard. And all these girls. They were nice..but not quite right..not for you. You know?’ She spoke, her voice still a touch emotional. ‘I know mom. I was there…believe it or not.’ He sighed.

I could almost feel his eyes look at me, were it not for the fact that I couldn’t actually see as I was pretending to still be asleep. I imagined the way he was looking at me with those silent, ocean blue eyes. Full of admiration and love.

It made me think of a question one of my friends had recently asked; whether I got insecure when being around him - since he was so good looking - and I had simply answered; never because of him. There was not a slither of a doubt in my mind he thought me beautiful, the centre of his love and affection. If anything, he doused me with so much PDA I sometimes came to the point of complete embarrassment (sorry colleagues, sorry friends). 

All the more glad I had been when he had kept it on the down low when his little nieces and nephews had joined around the dinner table, their curious faces quietly deciding whether or not I was “cool”. 

‘And I heard from Sarah that you are taking a bit of a hiatus from work?’ His mom continued. ‘Oh..no, not really a hiatus. More like..getting my schedule to a point that our relationship doesn’t completely revolve around me and my work. We’ve decided to split our schedules. Half the year she follows me around, the other half of the year I follow her around.’ He said. ‘Oh my!..So you are really serious about this. Oh Henry! Sweetheart! I’m so happy for you. This is just so good. OH!’ Her voice quivered again.

‘Is mom being the good ol’ sensitive Sally again?’ Charlie’s voice sounded from the doorway.

‘Oh stop it you.’ Marianne retorted, sniffing her nose again. Henry chuckled softly. ‘It’s fine mom.’ He said sweetly as Charlie’s feet shuffled to the couch Marianne was sitting on. ‘It’s okay mom, we love you all the same.’ Charlie crooned, the couch whiffing as he plopped down next to Marianne. ‘Oh Charlie, don’t tease. And weren’t you playing a game?’ ‘Yea, though I’m..unfortunately..on the losing end, so a few moments respite to come up with some new tactics should be allowed.’ Charlie said. ‘Ah, Piers still kicking your butt?’ Henry chuckled. ‘Not even. It’s the ladies you oughta watch out for.’ Charlie chuckled in turn. I heard Marianne sigh, her breaths becoming more steady now.  

‘Looks like she could use a bed, no?’ Charlie suggested - probably looking at me, sleeping on Henry’s lap. Oh no, don’t. I want to stay! Please! I want to hear what you all have to say. Besides, Henry’s lap is SO comfortable. My mind raced, as I tried to keep a deep slow breathing rhythm. Fake sleep Lisa. Nice and calm. Henry hummed. ‘It’s fine. Just going to finish this drink and then we’ll call it a night. I could definitely use a good snooze as well.’ He sighed. ‘You do look tired my dear. Work’s been busy?’ ‘Yes. Almost constant travel, lots of interviews, cast calls, meetings, you know the drill. I’m glad we have a week off now.’ ‘And so is she, from the looks of it.’ Charlie chuckled.

Marianne huffed. ‘Oh I can remember the days that you didn’t shy away from using napping as the perfect excuse, Charlie dear. Remember? Whenever you had to do a chore, you’d just take a nap instead… I sure do remember.’ She laughed, a tone of mockery in her voice. ‘Mommm.’ Charlie whispered, slightly embarrassed. Henry laughed in turn. ‘Oh..I remember that far too well.’ He said, his hand that had been stroking my hair now halting.

Was he looking at me? I could almost feel his eyes on me.

‘She does look cute when she sleeps.’ Charlie said. Henry hummed in agreement. ‘She looks cute, always.’ ‘Except for when you’re in a fight, right?’ Charlie quipped.

‘Actually..we’ve never had a fight.’ Henry almost sounded surprised himself. ‘We just..communicate really well. Talk about everything on our minds. No secrets.’ Henry said, matter of factly. ‘Ah, so you two already talked about..big future plans?’ Charlie got more curious and I could hear Marianne gasp softly. My heart fluttered. Henry however, remained quiet for a moment as his hand moved to softly brush my cheek. ‘Perhaps that’s the one thing we really should start discussing. I mean. Sure we had some chats. We both want kids, perhaps another dog, and at some point a house with a nice garden so she can make a vegetable garden. And..marriage…of course. But..we haven’t really discussed when…’ His voice trailed off as he shifted a bit.

‘Ohh I know that look brother.’ Charlie squealed in excitement. Gosh. I missed something. Had he given them a certain look? A wink? Had he showed them something? ‘Anyways. I don’t want to rush it either. I know she doesn’t want it to be rushed. So we’re just gonna take these steps one at a time.’ He said, soon after taking a last swig of his drink and moving his body to probably place the cup on the sidetable. ‘And now..’ His hand brushed my hair back again. ‘We’re going to bid you good night.’

‘Good night Henners.’ Charlie said and his mother also cued in: ‘Oh do I need to help? Or can I get you anything?’ She said, her mom-mode activated again. Henry chuckled as his large arms easily scooped me up, lifting me off the couch. ‘Mom, it’s fine, please. I’ll see you all in the morning. Good night.’  

I felt the heat of the fire fall away as Henry moved us through the cool hallway. I involuntarily shivered, leaning harder into Henry’s chest. He hummed softly, pulling me slightly closer. ‘I know you’re awake.’ He whispered. I groaned softly, peaking open one eye to look up at him. Dammit. How did he even know? He chuckled softly, seeing me sneakily peering at him, his legs now walking us up the stairs. ‘How’d you know?’ I croaked. ‘I’ve seen and felt you sleep next to me a hundred times. I KNOW when you are asleep.’ ‘Sorry,’ I said softly. He hummed again, moving us around the corner of the hallway to walk to the bedroom at the end. ‘Don’t be. It was..kind of fun. Besides. Mom and Charlie definitely didn’t know.’ He spoke as he got to the door. ‘Now..if you could..help me out a bit.’ He whispered, glancing at the door knob. I giggled and quickly turned it so the door fell open.

Usually I would have protested him for carrying me to bed. But honestly..this time I didn’t mind at all. I felt so tired I doubt I could have moved up those stairs without my eyelids closing again - they were closed again now - and it was so very sweet how Henry carefully laid me down onto the bed. I sighed and felt the heavy weight of sleep crawl over me, not even noticing how Henry started to unbutton my pants. The lights went out after what had probably been one of my most relaxing Christmases ever.

--

Part 15 > 

[katybaby00]

Life as I knew it

Pairings: Young!Dean x reader (underage), Dean x reader (tiny) age gap, season 3 Dean.

Warnings: NSFW, (MoC), tiny bit of angst of you squint, definite slow burn, slight dub-con, smut, that’s it. 18+ there is the sex!

Authors note: alright! So before you read you must know that this is my first story I’m ever posting. So yes this is an original piece! I’ve wrote before when I was like 13-14 but that’s just... scary to think about. So!! My inbox and page are always open for your requests and criticism as well. Also everything in italics are flash backs! Enjoy my loves!

Word count: 5,176

(GIF is not mine)

You knew it was wrong. You knew that working woth the Winchester’s was a bad idea.

Your father, Clint, was a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, honest, and trustworthy. He had grown up with John Winchester. They were inseparable, "attached at the hip" as my mother, Grace, used to say. My mother and I had always stayed home when my father went on "business trips". That's how I had grown up with Dean, him being only 5 years older than me. My mother and I were always over at John and Mary's home. My mom and Mary became close friends. Mary and her would talk about where my dad was when John was busy with us kids, not wanting him to know of his "job". Dean and I became very close very fast. Him and those damn green eyes. I developed a very large crush on the boy at a very young age. I guess it just never went away. John had no clue about the hunting life until the night Mary died. He started hunting and dragging his boys along with him.

Naturally Sam and Dean spent a lot of time around my family. It was mainly the boys and my mother and I, because John would almost always convince my father to go with him. When I turned 11, my father died. He was in a car accident involving a drunk driver. We always thought he would go out hunting. My mother died at the hands of a demon when I was 15. I have been on my own ever since.

~Present~

Another town. Another demon. Another case. Time just seemed to blur by. Drinking, fucking, and hunting. Rinse and repeat. Nothing special. Being 25 now, I knew I wasn't going to settle down and have the "apple pie life".

Quietly my phone started buzzing on the bathroom counter, Bobby Singer, "What the hell could he want at this hour?" I thought out loud. "Hey Bobby, how have you been?" I said while spitting my toothpaste into the sink. "Hey Y/N, I was wondering if you have heard from Sam or Dean?" "No Bobby, Dean is an ass who left me on my porch crying, and Sam is too tall for his own good, so it's been a couple years since I have seen or heard of them. Why?" Bobby sighs on the other end, "I was afraid of that, they got into some trouble down in Mississippi, haven't returned my million phone calls. Was wondering if maybe you could pop on down and check on them?" I could hear the silent pleading in his tone. I know this is going to be a bad idea. "Yeah, I guess i can. Anything for you Bobby. I'll call if things get too out of control." He laughs happily, "Okay Y/N, thank you, I owe you one." "Damn right you do Singer. Now, what town?" "They are in Ocean Springs, at the Siegel Select Gautier motel, right off Route 90. That's the last I heard. Room 19. Let me know what you find." You write down the address on an old piece of paper from the motel. "Thanks Bobby."

As you head out on your quest to save these fucking Winchesters, you turn up the radio and blast some boy band that's got you hooked. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. Dean Winchester... "Son of a bitch!" Picking up the phone you put it to your ear, "Y/N, I need your help, it's Sam." You scoff into the phone, "I swear to god Dean! You always think you need me to help clean up your mess! Ever since we were fucking kids! But since it's Sam... I guess I have no choice. Right?" Dean is hesitant at first and then he finally breathes, "Y/N, I'm sorry for all of the things that have happened in the past. I'm not the same person I was back then and I am so fucking sorry for everything," He takes a deep breathe, "please help me?" Taking a deep breathe, you sigh, "Dean I'm on my way now. Bobby called me and said you probably would need my help. So I packed my shit and I'm on my way. Don't get mushy and shit about it." Dean chuckles into the speaker. "Okay. You know I don't do that chick-flick bullshit. I'll see you when you get here. Bye Y/N." You pause, "Bye dean," He hung up the phone, "I love you...".

Pulling into the motel in this shit-hole town, you see the Impala in all her glory parked in front of room 19. Parking right next to the beautiful car. Getting out of your shit-box truck Bobby had given you for your 16th birthday. You patted the top of baby, "Hey sweetheart. You look good." You said as you walked past the car.

Tomorrow is your 18th birthday. Ever since your family died and you were left alone you never really celebrated. That was until this year. You were sitting on the front porch listening to the summer breeze wrestle the trees when you heard the sound of a familiar engine rolling up your driveway. As usual, Dean was behind the wheel and Sam in the front seat. They looked older. Dean looked very… mature. Sam is still the tall and goofy giant he has always been. I have missed them. Mainly Dean.

Stepping out of the car Dean grabs you in a big hug lifting you off the ground. You breathe him in and your stomach clenches. Whiskey, gunpowder, and leather. “I missed you D.” He chuckled deeply and you felt the rumble in your chest, “I missed you too sweetheart.” The nickname makes your cheeks heat up. He put you down and Sam wrapped you in a hug and you both said you missed each other. “What are you guys doing here?” Following them to the trunk. “We wouldn’t miss your 18th birthday for the world Y/N, and besides, you’ve always made the best pie.” That made Sam let out a chuckle. “You guys really didn’t have to come, it wouldn’t be the first birthday I've spent alone.” Trailing off you started walking to the house. Sam stops in front of you, “Y/N, we know how hard it is spending birthdays, christmases, and thanksgivings alone. This is a big birthday for you and we wanted you to have a good one. So that's why we are here.” He looks at you sincerely. Dean comes up next to you, and puts his hands on your shoulders, slightly rubbing, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks guys. I appreciate it.” Smiling genuinely.

Once inside and the boys being settled into their spare rooms. You grab your mother's old cook book and get to work on one of the boys favorite to have when they used to come over. Sam comes to stand in the doorway leaning against the frame, “Hey, you need some help?” You turn around and look at him, “As long as you don’t get in my way Winchester, you can chop some tomatoes.” “Sounds like a plan boss.” He says while he shoots you a wink. Sam has never made you uncomfortable. Being almost the same age you guys had always been best friends. That is one thing that has never changed, and hopefully never will.

Finishing up dinner you call for Dean to come eat but he doesn’t respond. That’s odd, you thought. “I’m going to get Dean, I’ll be right back.” Walking up the stairs you go past your room and then Sam’s. As you get to Dean’s door and are about to knock you hear grunting on the other side. Taking a few steps back and then putting your ear to the door you hear Dean breathing heavily. Grunts and moans coming from his mouth. “Oh… fuck… Y/N.” You take a couple steps back from the door. Never in a million years would you think that Dean fucking Winchester would be interested in you. Knowing EXACTLY what he is doing in there. You knock. “Shit, h-hold on. One second.” “Hey D, dinner is ready.” Dean slaps his hand on his thigh, probably hoping you didn’t hear what he had just been doing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in just a second.”

Sitting at the dinner table you try not to stare a hole through Dean. wondering that maybe you probably just imagined the whole thing. ‘Damn you are really going to have to get a hold of this crush Y/N’ which you thought you had said in your head but apparently the whole table had heard. “What was that Y/N?” You’re in shock. You don’t know what to say, “O-oh n-nothing, just thinking.” Sam leans over and puts his hand on yours. “Whatever it is, you can tell us, we are practically your big brothers.” He said with a chuckle. Well damn Sam way to punch me in the gut like that. Dean sits at the end of the table nursing his beer. “Do you guys want dessert? I made pie.” Dean immediately perks up. “Hell yeah we want pie. Are you kidding?” Getting up to grab the pie off the counter, you can feel someone staring holes into the back of your head. ‘I wonder who that could be‘. Turning around you catch Dean's eyes staring right at your ass. “You know what. You boys enjoy your pie. I’m going to go shower and get in bed. It's been a long day.” You gave Sam a goodnight kiss on the forehead and patted Dean's shoulder.

After showering and putting on some cozy pajamas you walk back to your room and find that your bed is not so empty. “Dean?” He jumps when he hears you. “What are you doing… in my bed?” He stares at you and walks towards you. He wraps you into a big hug and kisses the top of your head. “I just wanted to be the first one to tell you Happy Birthday.” Looking over at the clock on your nightstand you realize it’s 12:02, “Oh D, thank you.” “You should get some sleep sweetheart. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” You squeeze him back. “Goodnight D.”

You awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. Wondering who was cooking that amazing food in your kitchen. Turning into the kitchen your eyes go wide at the freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh cut strawberries, pineapple, kiwi, and cantaloupe. Taking a strawberry off the table you take a bite and look at everything else. “Oh! Good morning Y/N, how did you sleep?” Sam came into the kitchen wearing his grey sleep pants and a white cotton shirt. “Happy birthday Y/N. I see Dean has out done himself this morning.” “Yeah, you’re definitely not wrong. Speaking of Dean. Where is he?” Just as you said that he comes into the kitchen in plaid pajama pants, black T-shirt, and a kiss the cook apron. “Good morning sleepy heads!” He bellowed in excitement. “D, did you do all of this by yourself?” He grabs you in a side hug and squeezes a little. “I sure did. It’s your 18th birthday. You deserve nothing but the best sweetheart. Now sit and eat. We've got plans today.” You sit in your usual spot, grabbing eggs, bacon, and pancakes topped with strawberries. You dug in and caught Dean stealing quick little glances at you while you shovel your face full of the delicious food. Sam is looking between the two of you, almost knowingly. “So guys, what’s the plan for today? I need to know so I can either wear shorts or a dress.” Dean chokes a little on his eggs and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. “Sorry about that,” He chuckles, “we have decided that you’re going to go hunting with us. Simple salt and burn. For your birthday.” Tears welled into your eyes. You sniffed because you always thought your father would have taken you. But now you’re sitting here with the Winchester’s, they tell you that you’re going hunting for your birthday. Your mind was trying to wrap around it. “I would love that so much!” You jumped up wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck and he pulled you into his lap. Making your cheeks heat up. You kissed his cheek and walked over to Sam wrapping your arms around him too. “Well come on guys let’s go!” “Woah, hold on there Y/N. we have to get all of our bags and things packed. I need to make sure baby is in tip top shape before we just hop on the road. So Sam is taking you into town to get you some boots and some pants and other things that you might need.” You chuckle and walk to the hallway closet, open the door, and flip on the light, “Dean, trust me. I am more than prepared for this occasion.” He walks up to the closet that is covered with warding symbols and sigils of all kinds. Guns, knives, lore books, and holy water line the shelves neatly. Your dad’s journal at the very top. “You did all this yourself?” You nod. “Well I’m impressed. Right Sammy?” Sam clears his throat and walks over to the closet where you and Dean are standing. “This is most definitely impressive.”

Walking up to room 19 you sigh before you knock knowing who is on the other side. Knock. Knock. The door swings open before you have time to even get a word out, you are wrapped in a rib crushing hug. “Oh my god! Dean. let me go. I can’t,” gasping for air he loosened his grip. “Breathe. I missed you too.” Saying those words felt like a kick to the chest. You knew he didn’t feel the same way you always have. Maybe when you were younger. But definitely not now. “Alright. Let’s get down to business so I can get out of here.” setting your bag down on one of the dusty motel beds. Dean frowns. Not knowing what to think. “Why do you say that? Haven’t missed me?” You chuckle turning to look at him, “Dean. You can’t be serious? It’s been 7 years, you have obviously already forgotten. So I won’t bring it up again. We can talk about it when you remember how you left.”

He just stares at you. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a beer and tosses you one too. “Alright,” he began, “Sam fell into hell, h-” You choke on your beer and spit it onto the floor. Interrupting him. “He WHAT?!”, Dean fucking Winchester. You better be pulling my fucking leg because if you aren’t I swear to god I will shoot you.” Dean stares at you with wide eyes. Thinking of his response carefully. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “He fell into hell. More like Adam dragged him down with him. He slipped and now he’s down there. I have been up day and night thinking of what I can do to try and save him. He told me to go and have a normal life, go find Lisa and Ben. But, I can’t give up on my baby brother like that. He didn’t give up on me when I was in hell.” You walk over to him. “Don’t you think you should at least try to have a normal life? For Sam?” He looks at you, tears in his eyes. You’ve never seen this man cry. “I want him back. I don’t want to just give up like that.” “Dean if he told you he wanted you to try and have that life. Then I think you should at least give it the old college try. Go find Lisa and Ben.” He stands, turns to you and pulls you into another hug. “I don’t want Lisa or Ben, I want you.”

When you arrived in some small town in Texas you stepped out to stretch your legs. “You guys hungry? We could get pizza?” Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of a greasy piece of pizza. “That sounds really good.” “You guys can get a pizza, but make sure you grab me a salad too.” Sam says. You laugh at the green giant. Following Sam and Dean into the motel room you see that there are only 2 queen beds. “Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the beds. Whoever loses takes the floor.” Dean looks at Sam with question all in his eyes, “How about the losers have to share a bed?” Sam deadpans. You roll your eyes and stick your hands up, ready to win. In the end Sam won and you and Dean ended up sleeping together.

Later that night while you were about to hop in bed you see Dean put a pillow next to him in the middle of the bed. “Wow Dean. I don’t have cooties you jerk.” “Oh, no, sorry. It’ll just be… safer this way.” You’re definitely confused but you just shrug and climb into the scratchy sheets. Back pressed against the pillow and you can hear Deans breathing start to even out. You slowly sit up to see that he’s asleep and you let the silent tear roll down your cheek.

In the morning you stir awake but only to find that Dean had thrown the pillow to the floor and is down cuddling you. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest and his breath fan across your neck leaving goosebumps in its wake. You try to move. To untangle yourself from his hold. To no avail of course, everytime you would try and get away he would just pull you closer. Not realizing until he pressed his hips to your ass. He was hard as a rock. You let a slight whine fall from your lips which must have woke him up because as soon as it happened his whole body went stiff pushing away from you. “Y/n, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You jerk away from his grasp. “Thanks for making me feel better Dean!” Slamming the bathroom door you sit down and cry into your hands. ‘How could he not see it. How could he just push me away. I’m 18. I’m not a child anymore. I haven’t been since my parents died.’ You get up off of the floor and open the bathroom door to see Sam gone, and Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair. “I’m going to take a shower, or do I need your permission since you think I’m still a child.” You say as you walk over to your bag on your side of the bed. “Y/n, I never said I thought you were a child. I’m sorry about cuddling you this morning. But I can’t do that to you. You just turned 18 yesterday. I would be taking advantage of you.” “Wow Dean. You know you would think that all the experience you have with women you would know when one was interested in you. I know that I just turned 18 Dean. But guess what? I don’t care if you’re older than me. You could be 10 years older than me and I wouldn’t care. But seeing you literally push me away this morning gives me my answer.” Grabbing your clothes out of your bag you walk into the bathroom slamming the door before Dean could say another word. When you come out dressed and ready to go Sam is back and greets you before walking into the bathroom. “I’m going to grab coffee. Need anything?” Dean just shakes his head. You scoff and walk out.

While in the car with the boys you in the backseat Sam and Dean are discussing the plan for tonight. ‘Simple salt and burn Y/n. Simple salt and burn.’ Trying not to psych yourself out. ‘Everything is going to be fine. It’s all going to be okay. Easy peasy…’ “Y/n,” Sam starts. “I know the first hunt can be a little scary but trust me if you’re anything like your dad you will be just fine.” Giving Sam a genuine smile you look in the rearview mirror to see Dean staring at you. “I’m really glad you guys decided to take me hunting for my birthday. I know how hard the decision must have been.” “Why do you say that?” Well, maybe because Dean thinks I’m still a child and the only reason I felt anything for him is because I have always been alone, you thought to yourself. “Because you both,” adding emphasis on the word both just for Dean, “see me as a little sister, and you would hate for something to happen to me just as bad as I would hate for something to happen to you.” Sam gives you a side smile and Dean just lowers his head and sighs.

It was simple enough. You did just fine. Even Dean was surprised that you handled it so well. You did great research and handled your own. Dean climbs into the driver seat and Sam slides into the passenger side. “Alright Y/n, congrats on your first kill. Now how about some juicy burgers and a beer to celebrate?” Sam looks back at me and smiles. “I’m totally in! Can we try that bar I saw on the way into town?” “Of course we can, birthday girl.” “Dean, my birthday was yesterday.” You deadpanned. Making Sam raise an eyebrow. “Everything, okay with you guys?” “Fine.” You both say. “Hey D? I still have one more thing I would like to do for my birthday.” “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Y/n, you can not drive my baby this fast you’re going to wreck! Do you even have your license?” You laugh speeding along down some backroad Dean had pulled off on so you could drive. “Of course I do D.” You lied. “Okay. That's enough. Pull over so I can drive. You’re done driving for the rest of your life.” Pulling over you jump out of the driver seat and give Dean a giant hug. “Thank you so much. I have always wanted to drive your car. Since I was little.” “You’re welcome sweetheart.” That damn name. Sam gave you a hug too, He whispers in your ear. “You know you’re lucky right? Dean doesn’t even let me drive his car. Unless absolutely necessary.” That makes your body heat up, you had no idea that even Sam hardly ever got to drive Dean's car. Later the next day you had finally made it home collapsing on the couch and breathing in the scent of your home. “Are you guys going to stay another night or head back out?” Dean is standing in the doorway talking to Sam. As you turn the corner you see them standing there. A hurt look on Sam’s face. “Bye Y/n. I’m really glad that I got to see you and spend time with you on your birthday. I’ll see you around.” You gave Sam a goodbye hug and turned to Dean. “I’m really glad that you guys came and spent time with me. It really means a lot. I know that you have to go and save more lives. So i will see you and Sam around sometime.” Turning to go back into your house Dean grabs you by your upper arm and spins you right into a bruising kiss. His mouth melts against your own. It ends too soon. “Y/n, I love you. But I can’t drag you into this life.” He turns and walks down the steps, down the sidewalk and into the impala. “Dean wait! Please wait! You can’t leave like that!” You fall onto the ground and watch through blurry eyes the impalas taillights fade out of your view.

“Dean. I thought that you didn’t want me? You said you loved me but I thought you meant as a sister. I thought that’s why you told me you didn’t want to drag me into this life. Was because I was like a little sister. Not that you actually loved me.” Dean took a deep breath and grabbed you tighter. “Y/n I love you so much. I always have. That’s what I was going to tell you that night I was waiting for you on your bed. But I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did so I pushed you away. Please don’t hate me for waiting this long to tell you. I was just scared that you would reject me. I-I’m so-.” You crashed your lips to his and pulled his face closer to yours. “Dean Winchester. I have loved you since I was 13. Don’t you ever push me away again.” “I promise Y/n I won’t. Never again. I love you so much. I want to have the apple pie life with you. I don’t want anyone else but you.” “Okay D.”

The kiss continued to deepen as he made his way down to your neck and then your collarbone. He ripped his leather jacket off and then yours. Hands reaching the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Only breaking the kiss for a few seconds before fisting your hands in his hair and bringing him closer if that was even possible. He broke the kiss and took his shirt off and your hands clung to his biceps and shoulders and chest trying to get a feel of his god like form. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you apart. “Y/n please tell me that you want this and it’s not just me. I want you and I want all of you.” Breathing heavily you grab at the back of his neck and pull his face close enough to feel the heat from his body, “Dean Winchester, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it I’m going to shoot you in the leg.” At that, Dean kisses you and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. He grabs at your ass and thighs desperate for any type of friction. His cock is pressed right up against your clit causing just enough friction to make you whine. He grunts in response and tosses you onto the bed and climbs over you. “God Y/n you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you.” You sigh in response and he goes to work. Tugging your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion. He climbs up your body and unclasps your bra, tossing it to the floor. Fully naked and exposed underneath him. He groans and runs his hand down your body. From your lips, to your neck, down to your nipples, to your stomach, and finally down to your aching pussy. “God you’re so wet. This all for me?” “God, yes Dean please. I need you.” “Already begging sweetheart? I thought you were stronger than that.” He sinks two thick fingers into you and you clench. He starts slowly thrusting and curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, kissing down your neck and along your collarbone. “Dean.. I.. ah!” You came clenching around his thick fingers. “Fuck Y/n. I need to be inside of you.” He lines up with your entrance and inch by glorious inch he sinks into you. Stretching deliciously along your folds. Bottoming our he lets out a low groan and falls to his elbows next to your head. He’s deeper than you thought possible. “Fuck baby. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, so tight.” “Dean. Please move!” He slowly drags out of you almost all the way before he snaps his hips forward and and scream leaves your lips. He sets a bruising pace. Your pussy clenching tight around him. You can feel your stomach heat up and the coil tightening. Threatening to snap any minute. He’s so fucking deep. His breathes are coming out ragged and sharp. “Y/n I don’t know how long I can last with you squeezing me like that.” He groans out. Know one has ever been able to fuck you like this. Your orgasm hits you like a cement truck you clench around him, white spots flooding your vision. Not soon after his hips falter and he’s cumming deep inside you. His moans in your ear are the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. He rolls off of you and pulls you into his side and falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up blushing from the events that had occurred the night before. Turning over trying not to wake Dean. You roll out of bed and take a shower. The hot water runs over your aching muscles from last night's previous activities. You take a deep breath. ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’

Coming out of the bathroom the steam follows and you see the groggy man in your bed stirring. “Good morning D. Did I wake you up?” “No sweetheart, I just got up. What time is it?” He rolls over and checks his burner phone and groans. “It’s only 9:30. Man I was hoping it was later.” You smile and climb into the bed and snuggle up next to him. “D?” “Yeah Y/n?” “What are we going to do about Sam?” “He told me he’s always wanted me to have a normal life. So I think that I should do just that… with you. Because, you see, baby, I love you I have since we were kids. I thought that since I was older and you were a little younger than me that you would have a thing for Sammy. But you didn’t. It was me all along and I didn’t realize that until your 18th birthday. I’m sorry Y/n. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” You cuddle up closer to him and pull him tight. “I love you too Dean. Always have. Always will. No matter what, and if a normal like is what you want then a normal life is what you’ll get. I promise.” Dean rolls over and kisses your cheek and scoots closer to you. Grabbing your hip and pulling you closer to him. “I know I’m not one for the mushy moments right?” You sigh and nuzzle into his chest. “Yes Dean. I do. I haven’t been since my parents. I never thought I would love anything ever again. Not until you came along. You waltz in on my 18th birthday and suddenly all of those winks, nicknames, and lingering looks made sense.” Dean just pulls you closer. “Of course they made sense Y/n. I never thought it would work until you practically slapped me with your words. But it worked, and I ain’t ever letting you go.”

Tags::

[thisonesforfanfic]

Light in the Dark (6/?)

Bucky x Reader

A/N: Still, no idea if I should put any warnings, if needed let me know. Also Language

Ps: I’ve been thinking about how to go forward with the next part of the story (I have main point figured out, but not really sure how to get there) so it might take me a while to post part 7 and on :/

Summary: You have a lot of fun with the boys before they have to go back to war again, Bucky gets very drunk the night before leaving, making Steve angry.

Word Count: 2.3K

The past couple of days had been like a dream, Bucky would spend most of his time by your side, holding and kissing you at every chance he had, making you blush whenever you were in public. At night, he and Steve would sit on a booth together talking and drinking while you tended the tables at the bar, you'd even gone dancing when you closed early on a slow night, it was the most fun you all had had in a while: the music, Bucky teaching you how to dance properly, Steve giving you funny looks when you toasted with him every couple of minutes .It all felt too good to be true

And it actually was. Before you knew it, they were about to leave again, and you found yourself once more closing early so you three could drink the night away one last time before the train departed. You sat on the same booth the boys now called 'theirs', Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist, and Steve sat in front of you. Talking like old friends, as if you knew them your whole life.

"You know Y/N, when you said your brother could drink this place dry, I never thought it ran in the family" Steve was quite impressed with how much you kept pouring into your glass and down your throat. He admitted he even felt a little dizzy after atempting to keep up with it

"Running a place like this makes you evolve some unexpected talents" you tried to keep a serious face, but a hiccup escaped, making you laugh at your own drunk self, Steve chuckled as well, shaking his head while looking at the drunk couple

"I'd like to propose one last toast" Bucky raised his glass over the table, he was definetly the most affected by the booze, he felt challenged to keep up as well, now starting to drag his words as he spoke "To Y/N, the greayest drinker without super serum in the world!" he gave you a wet kiss on the neck while waiting for you and Steve to raise your glasses

"And I think someone else has officially reached his drinking limits" Steve scoffed, letting his glass touch Bucky's

"To you boys! I don't think I would be as well as I am now if it weren't for you!" your glass finally collided with theirs

"To us!" you said, as harmonized as three different stages of drunks could.

After that, you continued to talk to Steve about his love life, he had told you all that had happened with Peggy, that other lady that kissed him in front of her, and you tried to figure out how to give some advice on the situation. Bucky was mostly quiet, lost on his on head, either staring at you or the glass of water you gave him.

"Honestly, I don't think I can help much on the reencounter, but if I-"

"Can I ask you something doll?" Bucky cut you off, not really waiting for your answer he continued "You were one of the greatest nurses on the field" Steve's fists were already clenched on the table, before his friend could even finish "Why won't you go back?"

"That's it! I'm taking you home, punk" Steve jumped up and pulled Bucky out of his seat "I am so sorry doll, I shouldn't have let him him this much"

"Steve... It's okay" Your voice was soft, you got up touched his shoulder reassuringly "sit him back down"

He put Bucky on a chair, and you lowered yourself so your face was in front of his, holing your hands on his, he started mumbling an apology repeatedly, leaning in closer to you each time.

"I'm ...s- sorry, I didn't mean to make y- you mad. Ple- ..ase forgive me Y/N" his eyes were watering

"Bucky, listen to me" you gave him a couple of seconds to quiet down "You know this is hard for me, right?" he nodded "I would love to be able to be with you every night, know you are safe, and help you whenever you need. But I won't be able to go back without thinking I could have done something, I could have saved Y/B/N's life if only you brought him to the camp, I could have at least said goodbye" you sniffed away the tears, trying not to make Bucky feel even more regret "Now, let's get you upstairs and into a bath, that might help you sober up a bit. Is that alright?"

"Are you sure Y/N? I can take him home" Steve was aprehensive about leaving him with you "God knows what else may come out of this Jerk's mouth"

"Just help me get him up there" You went to clean up the table you sat on before "And also, you are always welcome to stay over, you know that Steve" you sent him a friendly smile "I do live closer to the station, you know"

It didn't take much convincing for him to stay, Steve carried Bucky upstairs, and got him in the shower, so you wouldn't have to deal with the whiny drunk not wanting to get wet. You brewed some tea for you and the blond, since it was obvious Bucky would refuse to take any. He fell asleep on your bed, before any of you could say anything. Steve clenched his fists again, about to toss his friend across the apartment into the couch, but you stopped him.

"I have slept on this couch a thousand times, don't worry about it" He tried to argue but it was clearly too small for his super serum body. "do me a favor and let me be the stubborn one here"

"I'll allow that, simply because it's your house, and that one will hear it tomorrow" he pointed to your room.

Steve stayied with you a little longer, trying to distract you from the toxic thoughts Bucky's words had triggered, until you showed signs sleepines.

"Goodnight doll" he kissed you on the forehead "Thanks for everything. Really"

"I know both of you would take care of me if it came to it, seriously, it's okay. Goodnight"

The smell of freshly brewed coffee woke you up, getting up and walking into the kitchen, you were surprised by the sight of Bucky preparing breakfast.

"I honestly thought we would have trouble getting you out of bed" You leaned in against the doorway, with a grin on your lips

His eyes were avoiding your glance, he felt extremely embarassed for what he said to you at the bar, you noticed his uneasiness as he found the words to apologise.

"Y/N, I am so terribly sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Bucky, I know. I honestly wish I had the strenght to go with you" you hugged him from behind, making him relax a little " I just can't pull myself together to do so right now, and hopefully, it will all be over before I can even think about that"

"Doll, I can't believe I acctually asked you that" his voice was deep, full of pain and regret "Will you ever be able to forgive me?" he turned to face you, your eyes were understanding, and your smile reassured him

"I already have, silly" you pecked his lips softly, then felt his arms hold you close, his embrace was pure love and relief, you didn't dare to move

"She might, but I still think you were a jerk, as usual" Steve's words made you chuckle on Bucky's chest, his grip loosened so you could both look at the man standing beside you. "I swear, if it wasn't for her, I would've dragged you by the foot back home yesterday"

"Oh come on Steve, he just drinks like a eighteen-year-old" you mocked "He'll learn how to drink eventually" Bucky stuck his tongue out for you as you giggled and Steve shook his head, a hint of a smile creeping on his lips.

After you got out of the shower, getting ready to leave, you realized you couldn't find your mom's necklace, and it made you freak out. You hardly ever took it off, and you hadn't really done anything that could have made the chain break.

"Don't worry doll, I'm sure you will find it" Steve said, while putting the couch back in place "It probably fell of on the bar, we can look there before we leave" You glanced at the clock on the wall, letting out a loud sigh

"No, you will be late if we don't leave now, I'll check as soon as I get back" you frowned to yourself most of the way up to the station

"Why is this so hard?" your eyes were filled with tears as you walked in. Bucky's arms pulled you in "I hate having to say goodbye"

"Doll, we will be back soon, I promise" he wiped your face with his thumbs "This war is ending and we are going to be here in no time" you pulled away nodding

"Bucky's right" Steve hugged you "we are not letting our special girl down"

"You better" hugging him tighter "you are like family to me now" you gave Steve a peck on the cheek before turning back to Bucky

"What do you have on your hands?" He had them shut together in front of his torso. You sent an inquisitive look his way.

"Please don't be mad... I just wanted to ask you something" his hands, still closed, reached out to you "What I mean is, I- ... want you to wear this"

There was the necklace, you puffed your chest in anger, before realizing there was another pendant added to it, a thin silver ring. Your jaw then dropped, you didn't really know how to react.

"When I get back, I want to wear one with you" his cheeks were bright red, you could hear Steve's sheer laugh behind you

"Is this your way of proposing James?" he simply nodded as you grabbed the necklace "So you saw me freaking out about this and had it in your hands?" his nod was a little more hesitant the second time around, as you paused for a minute before continuing "Well, I guess this would be a good reward..."

"Is that your way of saying 'yes'?" he put his hands on your waist, waiting for a response

"You should thank me for not slapping you right now" letting your lips meet his "And yeah.... this.... Is me.... Saying... Yes" you said in between kisses

The whistle blew while you were still on his arms, not wanting to let go.

"Please come home safe boys" you finally said in mixed tears of pain and happiness "I'll miss you too much"

"We will, doll" you gave Steve one more hug, and another passionate kiss on the love of your life.

The train departed soon after, and you stood there for a few minutes, holding the new pendant in your hands, not really knowing wether to cry or to smile.

The nights at the bar were definetly dull without them there, you'd tend to the tables without their laugh in the backgroud, and it made you sigh pretty often while galncing at their booth. It took you a couple of days to notice an odd pair of men that would come in almost every night, they were fancy suits, pretty uncommon outside of the island of Manhattan, and hardly talked. You didn't really give it much attention though,

Probably just some soldiers who got back recently. It wasn't unsual for them to come back traumatized, and you had the bartender there if you needed assistance at any time.

One slow night however, you sent him home early since there were no costumers coming in, and you were left alone while cleaning up. You thought you had locked the door after he left, but the sound of it didn't really draw your eyes to the entrance

"I'm sorry, we are already closed for the evening"

"Oh that is a shame Miss Y/L/N" The voice sent shivers down your spine, you turned to face the stranger.

It was the same pale man that came in with another one wearing those expensive clothes, you thought about your escape route, where the nearest possible weapon sitted behind the counter, the knife you had under your skirt. He knew your name, he wasn't in there for drinks.

"What do you want?" you slowly made your way closer to the back door, but freezed as you felt a strong grip on your shoulders

"We just want to talk to you miss Y/L/N, you have quite a reputation as a healer"

Well, fuck

"I don't do it anymore, you can find someone else" you felt the grip on you slowly loosen, you decided to wait until you were sure you could knock him out and get to the door

"Oh, we had someone else" he stepped closer with a grin on his face "But Mr. Barnes wasn't really in one piece" the two men laughed and you took it as your chance. Hitting the man holding you in the stomach with both elbows made him release you, quickly grabbin your pocketknife and running it into the other man's shoulder, then heading for the back door, bursting it open into the dark alley way

The words they had said made no sense, but you couldn't stop running, you had to hide, you had to stay safe

What do they mean? tears were quietly running down your face he can't be, they are just trying to get to be.... Could it be?

"Let's stop running Y/N" the voice was ahead of you, and heavy footsteps were catching up to you. Before being able to take a turn, you heard a loud thump and fell to the ground

"That's better, shall we go?"

The terrifing laugh was the last thing you heard, before it all went black

########

Thanks for reading!

[the-coconut-asado]

Our Golden Girl’s Kitchen

A couple of years back, my cousin Doro announced she was going to publish a book of our grandmother’s recipes. It set all the cousins off on an odyssey of frenzied WhatsApps swapping memories, and in my case a mad dash to storage to find yet another of mum’s old scrapbooks, stuffed with fragments of recipes typed up on that onion-skin paper of the Mad Men era. 

Slowly but surely, recipes surfaced for Granny’s steak and kidney pudding (to this day, the name of our family WhatsApp group), tallarines (fettuccine by any other name) and more cakes and tarts than a whole series of Masterchef pressure tests.  

But Doro’s job was made much easier by someone else who had kept Granny’s legacy alive all these years. The person who, while Granny was a distant memory for many of us, was the biggest influence on our lives. At the end of the book, Doro wrote a dedication to her: “ Auntie Joan, I remember you, sometime before Christmas, making us stir the plum pudding and saying “don’t forget to make a wish!”; the chicken pie or Irish stew with dumplings you prepared when I used to come for lunch after university classes; the plum ice cream you always had in your “ancient” fridge and the smell of scones and cake on our birthdays.’

Last week, Auntie Joan died. 99 years of love, wisdom and many a raised eyebrow at each of us at one time or another. She had a delicious smile that hinted at secrets she might share with you some day, and even up to her mid-nineties kept a ramrod straight back, figure to die for and effortless elegance that prompted a 28 year old male friend to comment at my wedding that she was the only 68 year old he had ever fancied.Cheeky, but at the same time, kudos. 

If I’ve made her sound  like a warm embrace of a woman, she was. She was also a ninja. For most of her working life, Auntie Joan  - Joan Nolan MBE -  was Vice Consul at the British Embassy in Rosario, and later in Buenos Aires. She started volunteering there during the war, and eventually they started to pay her (nice of them), then promote her. 

This had upsides - her influence to help others (a guiding principle of her life), the opportunity to travel, and the people she met. She once told me of an Embassy cocktail party on board a ship attended by Eva and Juan Peron. She had little time for Peron, but was a little flattered when having started to leave down the gangplank he  abruptly turned back, sought Auntie Joan out, kissed her hand and apologised profusely for not having said goodbye. Manners counted for a lot with her, so the apparently off-hand Eva was barely mentioned in despatches.  

Her job also had downsides: held at gunpoint more than once, and in the constant company of a bodyguard after her boss was kidnapped (the inspiration for Graham Greene’s novel The Honorary Consul). One day a masked gang raided the embassy, rounded up all the staff, tied them up and locked them in the bathroom. But the ringleader treated Joan with weird courtesy, politely requested she enter the bathroom but left her unbound. Joan said afterwards: “ I think that man knew me. And if I ever see those eyes again, I will know who he was.” She kept looking but never did, but she did show us the hail of bullet holes the gang had let off at the outer wall of the embassy before they left. 

30 years on, at 85, clearly feeling she had been down this road before, she wrestled an armed thief trying to steal her friend’s car. ‘ Dear, I knew the gun was a toy’, she said breezily when I had my WTAF! Moment on a phone call with her.

Though all this time she looked after my grandparents and my great aunt until their deaths - pretty thankless and back-breakingly hard as they all survived to their nineties and in my great aunt’s case to 101 - as well as her husband Stanley who died when she was still young. Yet she still made time to feed, nurture and look out for her nieces and nephews as they travelled through her flat en route to school, college and work - and then her grand nieces and nephews as they repeated the cycle. 

Living in London, I didn’t see as much of Joan as my cousins, but felt just as close to her thanks to her copious letters. And it was her trips to London I remember most. Wafting glamorously into Gatwick in her boucle red overcoat, nipping up to Newcastle for the day to have lunch with a friend (when Dad retold the story, he always added, untruthfully,  ‘And the friend wasn’t even at home!”), leaving a cloud of delicate rose scent in her wake, a perfume that always reminded me of her apartment in Rosario. A bit like Buenos Aires itself, Auntie Joan was an evocation of the best bits of 1930’s Europe. 

And despite eating like a mouse in her own home - spreading her morning toast with what looked and tasted like wallpaper paste but was actually zero cholesterol cream cheese - her kitchen with its pots and pans, scoured and gleaming  within an inch of their lives, was in a constant hiatus of puddings, pies and roasts for the family as well as that iconic plum pudding at Christmas. And when we took her out to eat the appetite she kept hidden at home came tumbling out. I once witnessed her demolish a whole sea bass, noodles and a quarter of a peking duck when we took her to a restaurant in Chinatown. Unlike the rest of my family, she was unafraid of spice and heat. 

Serene, always; sassy,  sometimes. After all, Joan’s favourite TV programme when she came to visit us in London was The Golden Girls. In a life where everyone depended on her, she was someone comfortable with not needing to depend on anyone else - until old age meant she had to. I used to smile to myself when, in later years, she would end all of her stories with ‘And they said, “Joan, you are the ONLY one who could have done/ solved/ sorted/ this’’. And yet, if we don’t tell the world how talented, determined and capable we are - who else is going to? #thiswomancould

So here are two dishes that we all eat thanks to Auntie Joan - her plum ice cream (with some added spice from cinnamon) and her Spanish Cake, a delicate and sweet treat that evokes  those high teas that are still a family tradition. And finally, a dish that evokes the memory of lemon chicken, the dish that she and my daughter Lara would love to make together. 

Hasta luego, nuestra querida tia. We were so lucky to have you as long as we did. 

Plum ice cream

I have never eaten plum ice cream other than at Auntie Joan’s house and I have no idea why it isn’t a popular flavour commercially. My version only tweaks her original recipe - two egg whites rather than one, a stick of cinnamon and the seeds of a vanilla pod added to the plums as they poach. The brilliant thing about this ice cream - aside from it’s taste of autumn, log fires and sticky crumble - is that you don’t need an ice cream maker.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

300g red-skinned plums

175g caster sugar

¾ cup water

1 cinnamon stick

Seeds from one vanilla pod

Juice of half a lemon

300g double cream

2 egg whites

How to make

Seed and quarter the plums and pop into a pan with the sugar, cinnamon stick, vanilla seeds and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and continue to simmer on a low heat until the plums are soft and the liquid has become syrupy. Turn off the heat and leave for another 10 minutes - you really want the spices and the red skin of the plums to seep into the syrup. 

Turn the plums into a sieve and extract as much syrup and pulp as you can into a clean bowl, using the back of a spatula. Cover and chill for at least an hour. 

In two separate bowls, whisk the cream until it forms soft peaks (be careful not to overbeat or it will turn into butter) and the egg whites until they form firm peaks. 

Alternate folding the cream, then the egg whites, then cream, then egg whites into the plum pulp. 

Pour into a freezer container - or just use an oblong cake tin, cover and freeze overnight. Remember to take out of the fridge for 15 mins before serving. 

Spanish Cake

This is the perfect cake to eat with a cup of tea or coffee. Light and delicate from texture to flavour. Simple dust of icing sugar on the top and you are good to go. Auntie Joan’s original recipe as typed - which features in Doro’s book - is as spare with detail as one of Bake Off’s technical challenges. Fortunately I featured it in a column I wrote for Choice magazine a few years ago, so  have filled in the gaps. Makes 12-16 squares. 

Ingredients

125g melted unsalted butter

200g caster sugar

2 eggs, separated

125ml milk

600g plain flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp mixed spice

Icing sugar to serve

How to Make

Heat the oven to 180C. Grease a 20cm square cake tin and line with baking parchment.

Whisk the sugar with the butter until thick and pale. Add the egg yolks and continue to beat for a couple of minutes. 

Add the milk and beat again. Finally, sift in the flour, baking powder and spices and mix gently until incorporated.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff, then fold into the cake batter. 

Pour the batter into the cake tin and bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes. The cake is ready when the top is golden and a toothpick or sate stick inserted into the middle comes out clean. 

Cool in the cake tine for 5 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack to cool. When cool, dust the surface with icing sugar, cut into squares and serve. 

Quick Chicken with kale, haricots and caramelised lemon

Auntie Joan loved chicken, and when we visited Buenos Aires when my daughter Lara was little, she and Auntie Joan would love to make lemon chicken together. Am sure she would have loved this flavour-packed little number, courtesy of Alison Roman in the NY Times. 

Ingredients

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 shallot, peeled and cut into 8

6-8 chicken thighs

1 400g can of haricot or cannellini beans

1 bunch kale, leaves only (discard ribs)

1tblspn sunflower oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil for dressing

How to make

Toss the lemon slices and shallots in a small bowl and season. 

Heat a large frying pan or skillet, add the sunflower oil, then add the chicken, skin side down. Press the chicken down with a spatula to ensure the maximum surface gets nice and brown. Cook for 5-8 minutes, then cook on the other side for a further 8-10  minutes until cooked through and the chicken skin is nice and crispy. Transfer the chicken to a plate, leaving the fat in the pan. 

Add the lemon and shallot to the hot pan - stand pack as it will probably spit and sizzle. Cook, stirring gently, until the lemon has started to caramelise - about 3-5 minutes. 

Add the drained beans to the pan and season. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans soak up that caramelised chicken fat - about 4 mins. Working in batches, add kale and toss to wilt, seasoning again as you go. 

Return the chicken to the pan, along with the juices that have collected on the plate, and cook for a couple of minutes more. 

Serve, drizzled with a little olive oil, and accompany with some crusty bread. 

[phoenix-downer]

A World of Possibilities

For @rokunamiweek​ Day 1 - Summer Vacation/Autumn Beginning

1030 words. Romance, fluff.

Naminé had never been to school before. It wasn’t really on the agenda back when she was a Nobody, but things were different now.

She glanced in the mirror one more time to make sure her uniform was how it should be – crisp white blouse with a red tartan skirt and matching tie, black shoes and socks, and a bookbag with the school’s name and logo emblazoned on it: Twilight Town Junior High.

This was really happening. She was actually going to school. Grabbing her Gummiphone off her bedside table, she made sure it was on silent before slipping it into her bag. 

“Naminé! Breakfast’s ready!” Olette called from downstairs. Olette’s family had been kind enough to take her in, and she’d been living with them in their spare bedroom ever since. 

My bedroom, she corrected. This was her bedroom now, a place for her things. A place where she belonged after month after lonely month of not belonging anywhere. 

“I’ll be right down,” she called.

She took the carpeted stairs as quickly as she could and joined Olette and her family for breakfast. The kitchen smelled of hot coffee and scrambled eggs, and Olette’s younger brother Pierre flashed her a milk moustache grin as she took her place at the breakfast table and buttered her piece of toast. 

“Ready for the big day?” Olette’s father asked as he set the newspaper down and took a sip of his coffee. Le Grand Bistro Wows Crowds was on the front page along with a photo of the bustling cafe. 

“I think so,” Naminé said as she carefully scooped a little strawberry jam onto the toast and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she savored the taste. The jam was homemade, and it always tasted wonderful. 

“You have everything? Books, pencils, notebooks…” Olette’s mother listed off.

“Yes. Thank you so much for all your help.”

“Of course,” Olette’s father said. “It’s the least we could do. Our home is yours.”

Naminé smiled and thanked them again, grateful again for this second chance at life.

“I mean, it works out pretty well,” Pierre pointed out, matter-of-factly. “Olette always did want a sister… but she got stuck with me instead.” He grinned wickedly, and Naminé couldn’t help but giggle into her hand.

Olette laughed, then tousled Pierre’s hair. “C’mon, Pierre, you know I wouldn’t trade you for the world. But it is nice to have another girl in the house.”

They all had a good laugh at her confession before the usual breakfast chatter resumed. The meal was a little more rushed than normal, but still as tasty as ever. Right as Naminé was loading her plate in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. 

“I’ll get it!” Pierre crowed, scrambling to his feet before Olette could stop him. Naminé heard the door open as she loaded her glass. 

“Oh, hey Roxas,” Pierre said. His voice was so loud it reached into the kitchen, and Naminé’s heart sped up a little as she heard Roxas respond. Olette shot her a teasing look, and she just ducked her head, her face flushing, as she went to grab her book bag.

“You’re gonna teach me how to skateboard this weekend, right?” Pierre said from the hall.

“I thought skateboarding wasn’t cool anymore,” Roxas joked. “At least that’s what the word on the street is.”

“But you’re bringing it back! Everyone wants to do it again after they saw you do all those tricks the other day!”

Roxas laughed and said a few more things before politely asking where Naminé was. It wasn’t until then that Pierre finally shouted, “Hey Naminé, your boyfriend’s here!” 

Her blush got a little deeper, and she took a few breaths to prepare herself before stepping into the hall. 

“Hello, Roxas,” she said, smiling shyly. He looked sharp in his white shirt and tartan pants and freshly ironed tie. His hairstyle was perfectly tousled, too, like all he’d done was run a few fingers through it before stepping out the door. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he grinned at her, making little crinkles appear around his eyes.

How was it that he always looked so effortlessly cool?

“Hey, Naminé,” he said, his voice cracking a little in the way that always managed to charm her. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, and he held out his hand. Olette was kind enough to tell them to go on ahead, and for that she was grateful. She placed her hand in his, and together they stepped out the door.

A lovely autumn breeze blew through the air, sweeping some leaves onto the street and lifting Naminé’s hair off her shoulders. Smells from Twilight Town’s famous food stands wafted towards them, featuring the best scents of fall: caramel apple and nutmeg and cinnamon and pumpkin with a dash of popcorn and roasted hot dogs. 

How wonderful it was to feel the breeze on her skin, to hear the train’s whistle in the distance, to walk hand-in-hand with Roxas. These were her own experiences, her own sensations, and they would soon become her own memories. Sora and Kairi and Riku and the others had made sure of that. 

“What are you looking forward to the most?” Roxas asked presently as they made their way up the cozy street with its sleepy houses.

“Hmmm… art club, I think,” she said. “Olette introduced me to the other members already. What about you?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I know it sounds kinda dumb, but I’m looking forward to… being normal. Being me. Getting to experience all the stuff we never could as Nobodies.”

“Yes. And not only that… experiencing them together.”

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. I’m pretty pumped about that too.”

Their whole lives were ahead of them, an endless world of possibilities. School might be normal, it might be mundane, but Naminé was ready for normal and mundane after all the strange things that had happened ever since they sprang into being. 

And besides, knowing Roxas would be with her for it? School would just be one more adventure to share, she was sure of it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hadn’t written any Rokunami lately, and that is a crying shame, so I thought I’d fix that by writing this fic. I think Roxas and Naminé would really enjoy getting to do ordinary things after everything they’ve been through, so I wanted to write something school-related for them to show their second chance at life. Of course, they might get whisked off onto a Keyblade-related adventure soon afterwards... but for now they’re enjoying some semblance of normalcy.  

Anyway, thank you for reading! I don’t know if I’ll be able to contribute anything else for Rokunami Week, but I wanted to write at least one piece! Can’t wait to see everyone else’s stuff! :D

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

National Boss Day [h.s.]

- part II - 

here’s part I if you missed it!

word count: 10k yeet 

content/warnings: fluff, bit of smut, & angst shishters

“‘Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?’

Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus, and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). 

She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously.

or Y/N learns that garlic bread is deadly, lips taste best after coffee cake, psychosexual analysis is her strong-suit, and comfortable silence is so overrated. 

///

Harry’s house was just as Y/N pictured it (not that she fantasized about his house often or anything), down to the baby cactus in the finger-painted ceramic flower pot, snuggled next to a framed picture of a messy-haired Harry in a light blue Hawaiian shirt, smirking at the camera while carrying a baby girl in his tattooed arms. 

“My goddaughter,” he explains as he shuts the front door behind her, Nike-socked feet padding across the dark wooden floor to where she is currently standing, smiling fondly at the image as she toes off her worn sneakers and draws her black windbreaker tighter over her Captain America t-shirt.

Harry looks so different outside of the office— so different from the intimidating man he has to portray in order to be taken seriously in his field. He’s clad in a pair of neon blue running shorts and a slightly oversized Greenbay Packers sweatshirt, his hair in messy, fluffy tuffs and just a tad bit damp at the ends, giving away that he’d gotten out of the shower not too long ago. He’s freshly shaven and smells of his signature cologne, mixed with the scent of musky aftershave and refreshing deodorant. He looks soft and cozy and cuddly, much to Y/N’s demise, and she wishes she could allow herself the luxury of running her hands through his curly locks and feel him give into her touch.

Sure, she’s seen him unwind before outside the office, but this closer glimpse at Harry’s life is so rare it feels so intimate to be allowed to see it. To see him completely unguarded, with his ungroomed curls, relaxed posture, and big hands tucked lazily into the front pocket of his jumper; he looks like any other regular twenty-four year old boy would. Nothing like a millionaire business-owner with the weight of the world sitting on his broad shoulders.   

“She’s two,” Harry continues, breaking Y/N from her train of thought, “and her name’s Ruby. Sweetest little girl you’ll ever meet. Loves to chew on fingers, though, so if you ever do meet her, you ought to keep those hidden.” 

She giggles softly as he smiles fondly at the snapshot, turning slowly to face her and jerking his head sideways in the direction of what she guesses is the kitchen. “Cake won’t eat itself. C’mon.”  

Harry gives Y/N a mini tour of his huge pent house in the few seconds it takes them to reach the elegant kitchen. He presents the living room as it is set beside the kitchen, and then points in the direction of where a corridor leads off, explaining that it descends to his room as well as the guest bedrooms. The color scheme of the home is centered towards dark colors, the theme being modern and posh. It can clearly be seen in the decor what with the plush, burgundy-colored sofas that look square and compact and ever so luxurious, arranged over a Persian rug of sorts that she can tell was probably woven by hand, the gold and bronze threads glimmering under the dim ceiling lights. 

The architecture of the home displays it as well, with its glass-based design and sleek dark brown and ashy grey accents washed across the walls, not to mention the creamy beige carpet that gives off to polished, red oak floors. At certain points, she even sees what appears to be bamboo built into the ceiling and across a few surfaces, tying the entire place together with an air of exotic beauty that is somehow still easily chic. 

The whole space is crisp, clean, and neat, the darkness created by the faint, warm lighting complimenting the deeper tones and shades all around the apartment. Funny enough, Y/N finds that the condo really reflects Harry as person— it’s reserved and quiet and peaceful, yet impecable and seemingly perfect down to the last window pane, with a bit of a haunting aura that just draws you in. 

It’s overwhelmingly refreshing, in a sense. 

Y/N is taking everything in when her eye catches on a certain piece of decor that she finds rather enticing. It appears to be a lamp of sorts, its lights made out of different sized rings that are stacked upon one another and spaced at intervals, the outer rims of the unusual bulbs painted midnight blue. It hangs from the ceiling, dangling a few inches off the floor at its full height. 

“Dope lamp.” She comments, and then mentally facepalms. How could she allow herself to sound so simple-minded and childish while in the presence of such expensive and high-class surroundings? She feels like she should curtesy to the fireplace as an apology. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to mind her wit. He actually loves the way Y/N is, with her modern lingo and her juvenile personality— it’s just like the first breath of spring. He is so used to being around older people and having to act incredibly mature and impeccably faultless that her easy-going, young persona is more than perfect to him. He gives the accessory a glimpse, smiling warmly and the gesture is directed more towards an unaware Y/N than the actual object. “Thanks. My sister designed it. Actually, she designed and furnished my entire apartment. She’s really into all that decor stuff and I can’t be bothered with it, so I just picked my place and let her take care of everything else. The only thing I had a say in was the art on the walls. Personally went and toured different exhibits and met tons of artists to make my collection ‘cause I feel it’s the one thing I can do no wrong with.” He gives a signifying glance at all the paintings that trail across the walls of his home, his lips quirking with the ghost of a proud smile and she thinks he looks pretty when his eyes twinkle like that. “Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?” Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously. Y/N continues to trail behind him, their footsteps going from muffled thumps on the carpet to soft padding against the hard wood floor as they enter the kitchen area. She is just now noticing how long the wall of the living room is, fascinated by how it is made entirely out of glass, looking out across the city skyline where the lights of the busy streets and skyscrapers twinkle invitingly. “I’ve always loved the city.” Harry pipes up when he catches her staring, sighing wistfully as he walks around the marble kitchen island, lifting the glass dome off of the cake-serving dish, the tangy smell of coffee and buttercream frosting tinting the air. “Living close to London does that to you.” “Yeah, I bet,” Y/N mumbles quietly, gifting him a small smile as he spins the cake dish around dramatically, sweeping a hand grandly before the dessert to emphasize its greatness. “Are you ready to taste a coffee cake that could put Gordon Ramsey to shame?” He’s acquired a cake-cutter and is already serving her a slice onto a plate that aesthetically contrasts the marble counter’s pattern, sliding it across the expanse of the table and pointing out a cabinet behind her. “Silverware is right in there.”

Soon enough, they are both sitting on top of the cold tabletop, Y/N on the island and Harry across from her on the counter besides the stove, swaying his legs ever-so-slightly as he licks at the frosting on his fork. “...and so then I told Niall that there was no way he could possibly fit all eight garlic bread rolls in his mouth without, y’know, breaking his jaw, and since he’s a knobhead, he proceeded to try and prove me wrong.” Harry is telling a story about a party at a restaurant that he and Niall had attended for one of the company’s older board members, who had been turning 81, and both of them had been bored out of their minds during the whole thing. They’d entertained themselves during the toast by hiding behind everyone else and daring each other to shove as many garlic rolls in their mouths as they could. Niall had won a gruesomely disgusting victory full of lots of drool and gagging, but he got bragging rights and Harry agreed to pay for his dinner so all went well in the end. He has Y/N a laughing mess, telling about how he almost threw up in the process when it had been his turn to cram the bread in his mouth, saying that since that day, every time he smelled something “remotely garlicky,” his stomach would lurch in a ghost warning. “Yeah, it was horrible. I can’t even smell Alfredo anymore or I risk presenting some of my very own homemade pasta sauce.” Harry loves the way Y/N’s eyes crinkle when she laughs too hard and how she clutches her stomach lightly as if she were about to burst open, her bubbly giggles being extremely contagious. He comes to the conclusion that he could sit here forever and watch her smile, his gaze softening with fondness as she wipes tears from the inner corners of her eyes while scrunching her nose and pinching her nostrils. 

“When I laugh too hard, I tend to start sneezing.” She explains, sniffling lightly and sighing with content. “It’s an issue.” Harry scoffs softly in amusement, setting his palms against the dark-stoned counter and hopping off with ease. He sets his plate in the sink, coming back over to Y/N to pick her’s up as well.    “What is it?” She inquires with a playful tone as she notices he still has that entertained smirk across his dimpled cheeks. He shakes his head lightly, pursing his lips to try and rid of the endeared grin but he just can’t. He can never seem to shake anything when it comes to her. “S’nothing.” “Oh, hop off it!” Y/N huffs, reaching over and slowly shoving him with a loose fist. “C’mon, spill.” “It’s just...” He’s fiddling with the fork on her empty plate, turning and shifting it around, the light clinking of the metal against the porcelain filling the pause in his thought. “You’re just cute, s’all.” Y/N blinks once in surprise. This is the first time he’s made any sort of comment like this since the incident. “Oh...” Her voice is tight with a slight squeak at the end. “Uh, t-thanks...” Harry glances up at her from the frosted surface of the platter in his huge hands, jade irises glimmering below his thick lashes with a timid yet confident air. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Her toes instinctively curl inside her kitty-printed socks at the pet name, the way he says it making a dull throb swell at the pit of her tummy. His voice was low and almost predatory as he let the word slip past his lips, licking the corner of his mouth slyly as he turned slowly to head back towards the dishwasher. When their locked eyes finally break is when Y/N can breathe again. It’s like he had a warm fist wrapped securely around her throat, forcing the air to stay in her lungs and fill her entire body with an anxious jittering. He’s so magnetic and enthralling, it’s almost like he’s not human. Harry’s voice rips her from her mind. She snaps her wild gaze up at him as he chances a glance behind his shoulder, scrubbing the buttercream from a plate with a rainbow sponge. “Be careful coming off the counter, love. It’s higher up than y’think and socks are slippery.” Y/N’s eyes roll at him jokingly as he sets the dishes in a drying rack, toweling his hands with a Plates Against Humanity dish cloth. “I think I can handle myself.” It turns out that she actually can’t handle herself. The island top was indeed higher than she had anticipated. Y/N jumps off, palms pressed against the surface as reinforcement, her body falling between her elbows and she thought her feet would hit the floor by the time her hips leveled with the counter. But she was wrong and her body keeps falling— falling to the point where her armpits are what is level with the surface so that her arms bend out of proportion, causing a small yawp of shock to string her vocal chords as pain erupts along the tendons of her shoulders, feet eventually hitting the ground but sliding out from under her due to the tiled floor not being compatible with the socks she is wearing. Harry lunges forward, strong arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist and higher torso as her flimsy arms give out beneath her weight. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve hit her head against the edge of the tabletop. He hikes Y/N up and props her against the island, where she leans backwards, catching her breath from the scare. Her legs feel like Jello, knees quaking as unharnessed adrenalin pumps heavy through her veins. Y/N’s chest heaves with shaky inhales, the feeling of her feet slipping out from under her haunting her conscious. One of her hands presses over her chest, heart threatening to break through her ribcage. Harry keeps his lean arms snaked around Y/N’s hips, he himself slightly winded do to the sudden call for action. He shoves his fringe off his forehead, giving her a smug side-grin and a jolt of his thick brows. “What was that you said about being able to handle yourself?” She releases a quivering, borderline hysterical laugh, still somewhat unhinged. “I miscalculated.” “It appears so,” he himself lets out a heap of chuckles as she tries to regain her footing, only to have her feet slip yet again. Y/N jerks her head up to meet his eyes as they glow with triumphant coyness, forming a witty remark in the back of her brain in the process. However, her comment is extinguished when her nose suddenly bumps with his as she lifts her gaze and she hadn’t realized how close Harry was until now. He is cradling her waist as her arms are slung loosely over his broad shoulders, palms flat against the muscles of his back as they flex under the soft cotton of his jumper, tight with the effort of holding her up. One of Y/N’s legs had perched between both of his when her feet had scrambled in the heat of the fall, knee being locked between both of his thick thighs and they feel so warm and soft under the sheer material of his mesh running shorts. Y/N had failed to notice how intimate this moment had grown in such a short amount of time. Harry’s canopy-green irises glitter at her with a certain familiar intensity from a while back. His tongue peeks out to absentmindedly lick across his suddenly dry lips and she can hear his breathing hitching in the back of his throat. His face drifts closer, the tip of his cold nose rubbing over her’s as his head cocks to the side a bit, eyes flickering back and forth between her owlish own and her mouth. His warm exhales wash across the young woman’s pulsing lips as he slowly pushes her further back against the counter, the lower half of her back bending slightly over the cold border. “H-Harry—” Y/N’s voice comes out high and weak, cut off by his as it fills with needy vehemence. “I’m gonna kiss you.” His words are a deep rumble in his strong chest, barely a murmur but a powerful one nonetheless. His brows furrow heavily and his Adam’s Apple bobs with a thick gulp, cherry-stained lips parting slightly in wariness. “I don’t think that’s a good—” She is forced to swallow her thought as Harry’s warm mouth collides with her’s, hot lips encompassing her quivering own as he grips her hips a tad more roughly, pushing forward as she yelps in surprise. His nose is smudging over Y/N’s as he deepens the kiss, tongue hesitantly wandering into his friend’s mouth and licking across her top lip. His hands scramble up to cup her face, warm palms cradling her jaw and holding her in place as he drags his textured tongue over her’s and glues a needy whimper to the roof of her mouth. The kiss is incredible— it’s everything Y/N had dreamed of and more. He’s dominant but in his own sheepish way— not too rough but not too soft— taking her into his embrace and she melts at the way his body wraps itself around her’s, eyes lulling to the back of her head. One thigh presses between Y/N’s legs as the other straddles one of her hips, his strong hands keeping her placed as he invades her mouth with a want so deep and carnal, she just about dissolves into a puddle right there in his strong arms. Harry gnaws at her bottom lip, gasping lightly when nails dig into the backs of his hard shoulders, whining into her mouth. “God, Y/N, been wanting this for too fucking long.” Y/N isn’t kissing back, but she’s not stopping it either. She just wants to bask in the way his thumbs are caressing the underside of her jaw as he suckles her tongue and chews on the center of her lower lip. His warm body is caving against her’s, bracketing her in and refusing to let go because, fuck, he needs this. Needs her. “You taste so bloody sweet, darling. S’like champagne and cream and...” Harry can’t help but fully grin into the kiss. “And coffee cake.” A small laugh pipes from Y/N’s trembling frame as a timid yet cheeky, “Wonder why.” puffs from under her breath. He’s pulling back a bit, replacing the long, drawn-out kiss with a scatter of gentle, cushiony pecks instead as he tries to get himself together. Harry’s plan backfires somewhat, however, because before he knows it he is back to desperately sifting his lips between her’s like they are his last source of oxygen and at this point, he doesn’t consider them anything less than life-saving.   “Shit, I bet y’taste even better between your thighs...” The blunt words had escaped his mouth, managing to slide by the filter in his brain due to all of his thoughts muddling together into one messy image that takes up every function of his being— the image of him snuggled between Y/N’s thighs as they roll around in the rumpled, damp lavender sheets of his king-sized bed, her nails biting memories into the flexing muscles along his back as he stains her tongue with his needy gasps and moans, his skin glistening with sweat and littered with love bites. A sudden warmth pools Y/N’s cheeks and something tells him she’s thinking the exact same thing. Maybe it’s the way her grip instinctively tightens on him, her fingers winding harder into the fabric of his sweatshirt, or how her swollen mouth falls open just a tad more to allow him as much access as he wants, but he’s just certain the same scene is rolling through the film behind her eyes. Harry’s starting to buck against the thigh she has between his, raw desire slowly gaining complete control of the reigns. His brows frown deeper as the buzzing in his bones rattles harder. When he speaks, his voice is soft and it sounds vulnerable as it thrums against her mouth. “Kiss me back. Please, pet, kiss me back. Need to know you want me, too.” Every nerve in Y/N is telling her not to. Every single fiber is telling her to high-tail it out of this situation before it goes into territory that they won’t be able to come back from. She has watched enough romantic comedies and chick-flicks to know that the whole boss-employee cliche never goes well. It’s ridiculous, really, that she’s let herself get this far when she’s always the one telling the TV off about how stupid the girl is being and how stupid the plot of the entire film is and how stupid the ending is because everyone knows there’s rarely such a thing as happily ever after when it comes to mixing career with pleasure and it’s all just so fucking stupid. But the thing the Y/N thinks is utterly moronic is that she finds herself, for once, starting to empathize with the female lead in those films. Now that she’s here, in Harry’s arms again — much less drunk on tequila and much more drunk on each other— she finally sees the world from the protagonist’s point of view. She sees the devastatingly handsome, sweet, and incredibly funny boss hovering a few inches from her face as his chest heaves with nervous, rattling breaths, full eyebrows pinched in anxious hope as he awaits her answer. It’s almost like she can hear an audience in the back of her head cheering her on as they watch the intense moment unfold before them in the movie theatre, screaming at her to just let go and do it already because it’s been a long time coming and the chance has never been more right. And before Y/N can rethink her actions, she’s giving not only that dumb imaginary audience exactly what they want, but she’s finally giving herself what she wants because she’s tired of having to be sensible and obedient and righteous all the time. So what if she fucks up this once? She’s spent most of her time at the company doing enough damage control to cushion it over. This one’s for her. Harry watches intensely with fluttering eyelashes and a battering heart as Y/N coasts her shaky hands across his broad shoulders and up his blushing neck to cup his set jaw, moving a single rebellious curl back from his forehead, her thumbs slowly curving around shells of his ears in thoughtful circles that have his knees knocking. He watches with enormous relief as Y/N hesitantly edges her face closer to his, eyes glued to his mouth with a form of uncertain determination as she prepares to take a leap that he well knows will take both of them down. Yet, he doesn’t stop it because she’s worth it— any rumors or dirty looks or gossip that might arise, she’s worth all of it because she’s so unique and special to him that he just can’t let this go. When Y/N finally touches her mouth to his, it feels like everything that has lead to this moment has been perfect and like the stars have aligned just so that both of them could be here tonight to finish the constellation. It’s sappy and disgustingly poetic on his part to think of a hormonal make-out session as some sign from the universe, but he doesn’t give two shits because that’s how it feels to him and he doesn’t remember a time where he’s ever felt more alive. Harry’s only in his early twenties but his family business has caused him to have to grow up earlier than others of his time. Do to these circumstances, he thinks he should be allowed this— should be allowed this messy encounter with a girl he’s been crushing on like a twelve-year-old for months now. She’s lively and lovely and kind and could give any famous comedian a run for their money and he is almost a hundred percent sure that his stomach has never felt this hollow and twisted before when he’s been kissed. He deserves this. This is for him. Both of their thoughts are racing a hundred miles a minute, overcome by the wave of sensations that neither have experienced from each other, let alone were ready for. Harry feels frozen in time, his fingers twitching against her jaw as she slots her mouth deeper with his, acting out of sheer adrenaline. Y/N suddenly releases a small, watery whine from the back of her throat, and this acts as some form of reality check to Harry because the sound is so intoxicating and syrupy that it jolts him into action. His hands quickly fumble for her hips, grabbing at her cushiony waist and backing her up even further against the counter. Y/N’s body reacts to his implications all by itself, pushing up off the ground as Harry’s arms flex with her weight, dropping her lightly onto then cold marble counter. Her thighs part widely to bring him closer, arms locked around his neck as Harry tilts his head slightly to the side, his nose brushing against her cheek as he delves further into her mouth. His breathing is spastic and wild as it puffs from his nose, tickling her skin and sending a jitter down her spine.   “Fuck’s sake...” Harry mumbles all raspy against her plush mouth, licking shyly at her top lip and revering in the way her thighs squeeze tighter around his hips. “S-Sorry if I’m a little rusty...s’been a while, actually, and— God, can you do that again?” Y/N has moved her hungry lips to the underside of his strong jaw, suckling down the structured skin and using the cute little moles scattered across Harry’s neck as guides. She pays close attention to each one, per his request, and her technique seems to prove valid because his fingers dig into her thighs, his head slowly lulling back to give her any space she needs to keep going. He’s biting down on the flesh just below his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth curved up into a dreamy, pleasureful grin as his eyes droop shut in bliss. His cheeks tint a darker shade of mauve, chest thrumming with satisfaction. “It’s okay. It’s actually been minute for me, too...” Harry chokes out a drunken boyish giggle that has hints of disbelief. “I highly doubt that’s tru— bloody hell— stop, stop!” Y/N moves her mouth away from the little dip at the center of his taunt throat, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. “Was it hurting? I’m so sorry—” “No, no, it’s not you. These are...” Harry whispers between deep gulps of air, reaching up to smooth his index finger thoughtfully across Y/N’s swollen bottom lip. He swallows heavily as she stares up at him with wide, curious eyes that have his balls aching. “These are fuckin’ magical.” When she speaks, her voice is meek and nervous and she has the cutest little pout present. “Then why’d we stop?” “Well, it’s just that since it’s been some time since my last play-date, I’m kinda sensitiveee— Oh, fuck, that’s deep.” Harry’s interrupted by Y/N gradually taking the finger that was prodding her lips into her mouth, tongue swirling around the digit and sucking feverishly, preening at the way his jaw goes slack and his eyebrows scrunch with sexual angst. She grabs a hold of his palm, uncoiling a second finger and tucking it inside as well, coating them thoroughly before pulling away slowly. She holds grueling eye contact the entire time, holding his large hand with both of her’s and separating the two digits with her tongue, running it down the center of both before planting sloppy wet kisses up and down their length. Harry feels like his whole body has been set alight, his thighs clenching and toes curling in his socks as he watches the utterly erotic scene unfold. How was he to know that sweet, gentle, comedic Y/N was so shamelessly dirty? He doesn’t hesitate to voice it, either, with his tone full of pained lust and wondrous awe. “Christ, you’re such a horny little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N nearly chokes around his fingers at his comment. It sounds so much hotter in real life than in her imagination. He smirks lightly. “Just asking for it— practically begging, with that pretty mouth and those big eyes.” Y/N turns Harry’s hand upwards, sponging messy suckling kisses across his tingling palm. “Like I said, it’s been a while for me, too.”     “Can see that clearly, now.” He murmurs under his breath, watching with bated inhales as lightning courses from her lips through the nerves in his skin. “Why’d you wanna stop?” She reiterates, failing to keep the hurt from her voice. When Harry interprets her mood, he immediately feels like shit. “Oh, darling,” he coos softly, leaning forward and nudging her nose with his. “It wasn’t you, it’s just that...I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself— let alone regain my masculinity— if I had an incident from simply just making out.” Y/N blinks at him exactly three times. “You were gonna cum from kissing?” Harry’s shoulders slump as a scowl toys with his cheeks. “Rub it in, why don’t you?” The snorty giggle she releases somewhat makes up for the dig at his ego. “I’m sorry, that’s just...Well, it’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten, if I’m being honest.” “Nice damage control.” He huffs sarcastically with a light roll of his eyes. “I’m serious! I’m really flattered, Har.” His ears perk at the nickname and now he wants to hear her scream it more than ever. “I love the way that sounds coming from your mouth.” “Yeah?” She smiles softly. “Yeah...” He nods, side-grin buckling his face. “Wanna hear it again...and again...and again...Preferably while I have you shaking under me...headboard ramming against the wall...” Harry’s hand has coasted up her inner thigh, massaging it deeply as his lips bristle down from her eyelids to her cheek and across the underside of her jaw. “Can I touch you?” Y/N releases a stuttered, semi-laughing gasp. “Would be a crime if you didn’t.” Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, running them along the rim towards the button as he liters sparse pecks along her throat, his voice coming out low and sultry. “Wanted this since the moment you walked into my office.” Y/N swallows thickly, feeling the metal bit of her pants pop open and he pauses for a second to roll up a single sleeve of his grey jumper to get any possible obstacles out of the way. It’s something so trivial, yet it only makes the dampness between her thighs grow. “Wanted to just spread you over my glass table, hike up the pretty pencil skirt, and sink my face between your legs until all I could taste and smell was you.”    His fingers ghost over her abdomen, crawling past the restraints of the denim and tracing over the cotton material of her panties. “Watch your chest heave as I marked my teeth across your inner thighs, my rings staining the rest.” Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head as Harry confesses all he has ever wanted to do to her, his lips searing passion into her neck with every bite. His fingers are now cupping her over her underwear, two middle ones pressed up against the thick of her swollen clit and there is not doubt in her mind that she is soaked well through. “You’re already dripping and I’ve barely done a thing. S’cute how horny you are, really. Never imagined you to be so messy.” The whimper that strings Y/N’s vocal chords comes from deep in the pit of her stomach, pushed forward by utter need and the wish to fulfill a long-desired fantasy. His fingers start moving in long, teasing circles. “Harry...” “Bet you’re tight, too, aren’t you? Haven’t been fucked right in so long, you need someone to stretch you out nice and proper, yeah?” All Y/N can do is nod her head, hips bucking forward against his fingers, her head tilting down so that their foreheads flush against one another. The pine of Harry’s glossy irises stares up at her through his thick lashes, full of sly smugness at being able to dismantle her so easily. He kisses lightly at her quivering mouth, digits speeding up under her clothes. “‘M gonna fuck you all night long, angel. Make up for all that lost time.” Y/N feels a third finger hook around the crotch area of her panties, moving the fabric to the side to allow full on skin-to-skin contact. Harry can’t help the way his mouth drops open as his digits sink down between her folds, the warmth and wetness enveloping him as he teases one inside her. “Christ, you’re so dirty, pet.” “Harry, please...” Y/N tries to go in for a full kiss, but he pulls back, shaking his head mockingly and she’s so slick he manages to coax in a second finger. “Want you to look at me while I finger-fuck you.” His words leave her cheeks itching and her teeth numb, whimpering as he stretches her out. “I’m gonna do so many things to this perfect cunt. Gonna fit myself between your thighs and fuck you on your back so I can see how cute you look cumming. Then I’m gonna flip you around and take you from behind so I can mark my hands across your ass.” Harry’s picking up the pace against her heat, and his arm and wrist are starting to become sore but he knows it’ll be worth it if Y/N keeps squeaking and writhing the way she is. His eyes twinkle dangerously with another idea. “You ever been fucked out on a balcony, petal?” Y/N doesn’t trust herself to speak, settling for shaking her head drunkenly and letting out a muffled mm-mm.  “We’ll change that, then.” She can’t stop herself from making a coy remark, more to herself but his ears manage to catch it. “Not surprised you’ve got an exhibition kink.”   Harry’s eyebrows quirk up in amused surprise, his motions halting for a second. “S’cuse me?” Y/N licks across her chapped bottom lip, swallowing to regain some moisture back in her throat. “It goes hand-in-hand with a praise kink, which you obviously have, as well.” Harry pulls his hand out completely from under her jeans now, despite her small whine of disapproval, much more interested in the psychological analysis she has conceived of him. “Some interesting assumptions. Please,” he brings his fingers up to his face, examining the glossiness across his skin before shoving them into his mouth, “do go on.” Y/N yelps quietly at the sight of him tasting her and her reaction reminds him of a startled puppy, for some reason. It’s absolutely endearing. “No, please,” Harry removes his soaked fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, licking over the middle one more time calmly just to push her right up to the edge. “Continue.” And Y/N does, with a shaky tone and buzzing tummy. “When you give speeches and stuff at work and rallies, or when you talk at career fairs, you always love to hear the people applaud you at the end. You encourage it, actually. It doesn’t take much to guess that it translates into bed, as well.” “And you’d be right.” Harry smirks, tongue sweeping over his top teeth slowly to end up pressed against the inside of his right cheek cockily. “But here’s the difference. At work, I strive for it. In bed, it comes naturally. I never have to ask someone if they like it because by the end, they can’t stop screaming about it.”    “I’ll make sure to add that to my psychosexual research journal.” Y/N forces out the words with a tight smile as he gives her a gradual, predatory-like once-over, licking his flushed lips distractedly. Harry belts out another boyish, heart-fluttering giggle. “Go right ahead. Can’t wait to see your segment on the Discovery Channel.” And then he’s back to tonguing beneath her upper lip, the palm of the bare arm cupping her jaw as the other hand presses flat against the cold marble of the kitchen island beside her thigh. His mouth tastes of the buttery coffee cake and he smells like cinnamon and his lips are like silk as they glide wetly over her skin and Y/N can confirm that heaven really is a place on earth. Her being who she is, she’s already calculating everything down to the minute. If she stays over tonight and he makes good on his promise to work her down to a pool of lube and tears, then they will probably end up sleeping in tomorrow morning, plus it will take her a while to get used to the soreness. Consequently, this means she’ll miss the latest rerun of The Vampire Diaries (she’s rewatching the whole show for a hindsight analysis and she hates to admit it but Elena can be so fucking annoying sometimes). She will also have to push back the brunch with her mom into an actual lunch, and her car was due for an emissions check but she guesses she could miss the appointment and reschedule since her mechanic was a family friend. Grocery shopping would run late, which means that grouchy old cat lady with the purple highlights she always runs into would beat her to getting the freshest blueberries available since the market restocks late Saturday afternoons. She’ll just have to survive without blueberries for another week. All of this is whirring through Y/N’s head as Harry trails his hypnotizing mouth to the thumping pulse in her neck, mumbling something about how sweet her skin tastes.   Her eyes flutter, high on his touch and nearly imploding as he presses between her thighs, hissing against her throat as his crotch braces her’s. “So warm f’me...” Y/N thinks that she’s mentally gone through every errand she has tomorrow and decides she is willing to fuck up her schedule if it means getting fucked herself, preferably more than once and possibly in many different compromising positions. Acting on impulse, she begins to undo the tie on Harry’s his mesh shorts and she can feel his hot mouth spread into a wide simper against her juglar. But then, as her responsibilities are locking themselves away for the night in a little door in the back of her mind, something else emerges from her subconscious— something she had totally let slip. It was triggered by her thinking about her schedule, specifically because Saturday mornings, as she watches her show and crams down a bowl of Lucky Charms, is when she organizes Niall’s own schedule for the upcoming week. Thinking about Niall’s schedule is a direct correlation to work, and now that tiny annoying thought is inflating into a full on freak-out as all the alarms in Y/N’s head— which had been muted by Harry’s homey scent and the feeling of his clothed back muscles flexing beneath her fingertips— are blaring loud and proud in her ears. There’s no way she can go through with this. “H-Harry...” The word comes out choked. “Fucking hell, say it again. Say my name again like that, all breathy and soft. Please, angel.” He purrs, hips bucking forward lightly as her fingertips remain perched on the waistband of his shorts. As much as it pains Y/N, she musters up all of the will power left within her (which isn’t very much) and puts it into her voice, her tone vehement. “Harry, we have to stop.” In all of his life, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as heartbreaking as those five words. Heartbreaking because he knows exactly what is going to come after them. Y/N is going to say that they can’t do this because of work. Because he’s her boss. Because it’s wrong and completely unprofessional. And she would be right— Harry knows this. But his business has taken up so much of him as it is— his youth, his peace of mind, his ability to let go for a bit and do something out of his nature— so he outright refuses to let it stomp all over his love life, as well. It’s the one thing he has left, and much to the comedic irony of the universe, Y/N happens to be at the center of it all. People can’t control who they fall for, but if he had seen it coming, he would have done everything in his power to try and stop it. But he didn’t see it coming. Y/N just crashed right into his life, quite literally, with her gentle smile and her witty personality and her hilarious Vine references and Harry was done in long before he even realized it. They are so close. He is so close. Y/N is in his house, his bedroom is right there. He doesn’t just want to sleep with her, he wants everything that comes with it. He wants to wake up with her in his arms, still fast asleep with her hair in tangles and her lashes resting perfectly atop her soft cheeks. He wants to make her French toast every morning and see her walk out of his room, dressed for work in her favorite pair of black dress pants and a frilly creme blouse, heels clicking against the kitchen floor. He wants her to scold him for still being in his Spider-Man pajama pants rather than ready for the office and to shove him towards the bathroom as she says she’ll finish up breakfast. Harry wants Y/N to have to use his shampoo when her’s runs out, resulting in a playful fight about how her forgetfulness causes him to always have to buy three bottles instead of one, lest he end up having to use the body wash to get the job done. Harry wants her in his hole-ridden band t-shirts, in his lap as they watch Cupcake Wars, and pressed against his back as she attempts to braid his curls but fails because of her limited hair skills. He wants to drive her to work every morning and stop by the small café down the block. Wants to order their coffees, preparing her’s with extra whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, and exactly 3 tablespoons of honey, all just to mock her sweet tooth as they stop at a traffic light, squeezing her hand over the center console and rolling his eyes while she sticks her tongue out at him. Harry wants all the strings attached that come with being so gone for someone that the very idea of seeing them makes everything negative dissipate. It’s because of this— because of how whipped she has him— that he forces himself to back off, pulling his mouth away from her and trying to hold back the scream of sad frustration that is itching at the roof of his mouth, threatening to squeeze between the cracks of his teeth.   Even though he well knows the answer, he still asks. He needs to hear it so that he can fully draw away and detach his hand from her supple cheek and his emotions from her’s. “Why?” It’s just one syllable, but Y/N can feel that it is packed heavy with all of his longing anger. “Because of work.” And there it is, word for word verbatim. The thing is, Harry did see that coming, but it hurt the same either way. “Right.” He whispers, sighing heavily to hide the wobble in his voice. He takes a few steps back from Y/N, his hands coming up before him with his palms forward to signify surrender. Y/N wishes she didn’t miss the warmth of his touch as much as she does. When she speaks, it is nasally and sorrow, her fingers fiddling glumly in her lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head a tad, releasing a quick laugh to try and lighten up the mood but it comes out humorless and somewhat bitter. “No, it’s okay. You have a point. It’s not appropriate.” Y/N can’t stand to see him so upset. It’s obvious he is trying to hide it. His face is cast down, gaze focused on the ground with a deep grimace tilting the corners of his lips in the wrong direction and carving his dimples into his cheeks for the opposite purpose of what they’re made for. His eyelashes keep fluttering, meaning he is trying to blink something out of his eyes. The possibility of it being tears makes it feel as if someone were trying to wrench Y/N’s heart from her chest. “I don’t...” Her words strain the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what else to say...”   She just wishes he’d look at her. “I don’t either.” He sounds icy and distant. Y/N slips down awkwardly from her seat on the kitchen island and this time she makes sure not to lose her footing. Despite his cold appearance, Harry still glances up for a moment to make sure she makes it down safely, though it goes unnoticed. Their eyes catch and Y/N feels her stomach plummet down six stories. His facial expression is something she can’t make sense of. His eyes are devastatingly bleak, emerald irises holding none of his usual sly humor and kind happiness. Instead, they are a muted olive tone, glossy but not in the way she wishes they were. The frown is gone, replaced by him pursing his full lips as if calculating whether to throw her out. His arms have come up to fold across his strong chest, fists tight and tucked into the creases of the inside of his elbows. His stance is very rigid and guarded, as if he is trying to cut away any connection between the two of them. Y/N feels like she is drowning. One of her hands reaches across her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm and squeezing nervously— an anxious mannerism. She draws into herself to feel safer, not because she feels like he’d lash out at her, but because she feels alone. “Harry, I’m really—” Harry cuts her off, his own voice monotone and stern. “I think you should go.” She allows her parted lips to come together tightly, and despite every cell in her body telling her to take the exit, her feet stay planted. She can’t leave things this shattered between them. Last time, he was drunk. Everything was forgotten and there was no mess to clean up. This time, they weren’t so lucky. “Can we just talk it out? I don’t want to leave with things so bad between us. You’re my friend and I—“ “I’m your boss.” The sentence is sharp and cuts as it intended. Harry had let it out in an overwhelming wave of sudden rage, hurt more than he’d ever care to admit. Y/N stares at him with watering eyes, blinking back her emotions. “You’re right. I’m sorry for insisting. I’ll, uhm—” her voice cracks despite her best efforts to stifle her feelings, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth to keep a sob from spilling out. “I’ll just go.” This time, Y/N’s feet don’t fight her. Her windbreaker whips behind her as she hurriedly paces out of the kitchen and through the living room, making sure her eyesight doesn’t wander towards the lamp she had praised earlier. She pauses by the table where her shoes are tucked, feeling her chest contract at the picture of Harry and his goddaughter. Y/N cannot believe she had fucked up this bad. Getting the door unlocked feels like an eternity and she angrily wonders why someone would need three separate locks on a door when the building has a security guard checking the floors every hour. It slams closed behind her, and though she didn’t mean to be so rough, it helps the gnawing in her lungs somewhat subside. Her legs take her down the dimly-lit corridor of Harry’s floor, her shadow tailing her on both walls, footsteps muffled by the thick, expensive maroon carpeting. The metal doors of elevator glint cruelly at end of the hall. Y/N jabs her thumb into the down button so hard that a flash of pain shoots up her entire hand, but she ignores it. It’s nothing compared to what is boiling at the pit of her stomach. She can hear the soft skidding of the elevator descending to her floor, the gentle thump of its arrival, and she’s squeezing in before the doors are even fully open. Nothing seems to be fast enough as she hits the lobby button and keeps clicking the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive.   The elevator lurches down ever so slightly, smooth and soundless and what else can be expected from such an expensive condominium. Y/N watches the buttons of the floors light up as she makes her way down, everything that has happened playing in fast-forward over and over behind her glassy eyes. The picture frame. The cozy clothing. The lamp. The art. The smiles. The cake. The jokes. The flirting. The fall. The giggling. The kiss. The touching. Her stopping him. Harry drawing away. Her dismounting the island again. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. Y/N apologizing. Harry drawing into himself. Telling her to— Y/N blinks once, and it’s as if she is taking a remote and back-tracking, trying to find a bit in the storyline that she had missed before. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. And suddenly, she’s flashed back to a conversation they’d had a long while back when she had offered to help him organize his desk while everyone was out for a lunch break. 

“Who knew that the refined, put-together Mr. Styles could be such a fucking slob.”  “Heyyyyy!” Harry had chucked an used up pen at her, scrunching his nose into a silly face. “Shut up.” “You shut up and learn to clean your shit.” Y/N had grumbled, picking up a half-finished, dirty stack of rose-printed Sticky Notes and throwing it into the discard pile. “My shit is what makes me unique. There’s not another messy desk like this one anywhere in the world, I can guarantee that.” He replies, holding up a protein bar wrapper and kissing it proudly. She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head and laughing as he sets it down with the other trash and pets it affectionately. “You’re so lame.” “Whatever.” After some more digging and an embarrassing amount of protein bar wrappers later, Y/N comes upon a crumble piece of paper that is worn with coffee cup stains. She unwraps it, wanting to see if it is of any importance, and comes upon an interesting discovery. “Are these...lines of a poem?” Harry’s head whips up from digging in the bottom cabinet. “Huh?” Y/N sets the notebook paper down on the glass desk and straightens it out with her palms. She then holds it up for him to see, reciting the phrases on the crumbles surface: We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way. “Oh...” Harry mumbles wistfully, his cheeks tinging the faintest shade of rose. “That.” “‘That?’” Y/N raises her eyebrows teasingly. “What is ‘that,’ exactly?” He sighs lightly, chucking an empty styrofoam cup in the throw-away pile. “Well...” Harry hesitates. He’s never really talked to anyone about this. But for some reason, Y/N seems like the right person to. He highly doubts she’ll judge him— she’s too nice— and if she read the lines and is interested in them, it must be because she likes them. That, and by the stubborn expression on her face at the moment, he knows she won’t let it go. “They’re poem lines, yeah.” Harry finally answers, nodding his head a bit and pushing up of the ground by his knees. He scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I, uhm...I used to write when I was younger.” “Really?” The way her eyes light up soothes some of his anxiousness. “Mm-hm. I was quite fond of it, actually. Had a notebook full of lines like these and everything. But after my dad started training me to take on the company, it kind of got lost in the wind.” Harry is in front of Y/N now and she allows him to take the crinkly sheet from her gentle grasp. He loves how she had been holding the paper as if it were a piece of art— it makes his heart flutter that she regarded it as so. Makes his heart flutter enough to keep opening up. “Every now and then something will pop into my head and I’ll write it down wherever I can. I usually just throw them into the bin ‘cause I know they’ll never really amount to much, but I guess this one escaped that fate.” Harry thumbs over the dry, smudged ink, melancholy washing over his eyes as he recalls where these words had stemmed from. He had been going through a bad break-up that had derived from lack of communication, more on his part than on his partner’s. The lines appeared to be directed to someone else, but they were actually about himself. As if one cue, Y/N pipes up with a meek voice covered in curious wonder. “What do they mean?” Harry would normally never share something so emotionally intimate with anyone, but the innocent awe complimenting Y/N’s features at the moment washes his heart in a form of safe familiarity and he feels like he would tell her his deepest, darkest secrets if she asked. He finds that the explanation comes out surprisingly easy and he chalks it up to the saying that “time heals” and what not. “It’s more-so a message to myself than to someone else. I’m a very emotionally closed-off person and I never know how to properly communicate what I’m feeling. Whenever I feel angry or hurt or threatened when it comes emotions, I always shut off and become kinda cold and detached. It’s basically self-sabotage and, like...I know it is, but it’s always been my default so it’s what I always tend to do. No matter how much I want to work things out and fix whatever’s broken, I just don’t really know how to go about it. I always just settle for silence and never end up saying what I want to say.”   The office room has grown so silent, Harry could drop that worn-out pen from earlier and it would echo across the walls without a problem. He feels like he’s just peeled open his chest and bared his heart to someone he’s only known for a few months and it’s suffocating him like nothing else has before. He’s too scared to look at Y/N for fear of getting a negative reaction to his confession. But much to his relief, it goes better than he could’ve hoped for. “That’s beautiful, Harry.” He glances at her, sighing shakily, a shy smile taking up his quivering lips. “Y’mean that?” Y/N nods confidently, the palm of one of her hands coming up to smooth assuringly across the expanse of his tense back. “I really do. It’s beautiful, in tragic kind of way.” Harry snorts with amusement. “It’s nice to know that you find the inner turmoil of my soul to be artsy and tragic.” “I sure do. Shakespeare’s shook, sister.” Y/N releases a small fit of giggles and he can’t resist to joining in, feeling strangely better about a part of his life he had bottled up so long ago. “You should save it.” She suggests, patting his broad shoulder before moving to start picking up stuff to take to the trash can. “Keep it in case inspiration ever strikes again.” “Yeah...” Harry nods his head once as he glances back down at the paper thoughtfully, folding it up and slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. “I will.” A loud ding brings Y/N out of the trip into her memories, the gilded doors of the elevator starting to crack open. Everything is hitting her at once, and she feels like she could collapse from all of the puzzle pieces knocking around the inside of her skull, connecting that specific past experience to what is happening between her and Harry presently. He had admitted to her that he was the type of personal to lock himself in when he felt emotionally threatened. He had confessed that he became cold and distant whenever he was sad. He had disclosed that his go-to mechanism for dealing with sentimental rejection was to block out the person causing it and to isolate himself in order to lick his wounds, no matter how badly he wanted to reconcile.   All of these are characteristics of the behavior he had shown tonight when Y/N had stopped what was about to go down between them. If she wanted to fix this, she was going to have to break through to him.  And for the first time, Y/N can see that Harry’s emotions for her were just as strong as her’s were for him. That it wasn’t just lust or infatuation of having something taboo, but rather actual feelings that had to do with so much more than a surface attraction. Not only this, but she also comes to terms with the fact that she had halted their actions not just because it clashed with their work situation, but because she herself had been afraid that what was going to happen between them might not have meant to Harry what is was going to mean to her. But now she knows. Knows that they are on the exact same page, emotionally and physically, and she’s not scared anymore. Not scared of what might go around at the office or of what anyone else would have to say or of what would happen after because it would be worth it— they meant more to each other than any baseless gossip.   For the first time tonight, Y/N’s body acts not only on impulse of adrenalin and hormones, but also out of impulse of the heart. She reaches up quickly, her thumb hitting the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. Then, with trembling fingers, she clicks the button that leads back up to Harry’s floor.

[dragonagethistle]

Holy Shit - Chapter 6

It’s been literally months. I’m too ashamed to go look up when my last update was. I am so sorry. Thank you for sticking around!

Start from Ch 1 here

Read on AO3 here

The screeching of my car-alarm ringtone only served to make me squeeze my eyes shut tighter and shove my head under my pillow. I immediately regretted touching my house warming whisky the previous night. My mouth was full of cotton and my head positively pulsed at the temples. But I couldn't call out of work - not so soon after starting a new job. A job I needed to keep if I wanted to continue living here.

“Fucking fuck,” I grumbled as I reached out of bed to hit snooze. I was never a morning person, but occasionally cursing at the general concept of waking made me feel better.

For once though, I decided not to push the limits of how long I could stay in bed. A hangover could only be cured by greasy breakfast food and some form of potatoes and I knew I'd have to leave my place at least 15 minutes earlier than usual to swing by the McDonald's on my drive to work.

I picked my phone up off the floor, sat up straight, and turned off both my main and backup alarms. Having those continue to go off would only make me more grumpy than I already was in the mornings. My shoulders and neck were already stiff - evidently I had slept in a weird position last night, so I did my best to stretch them out as I got out of bed and made my way across the hall to my bathroom.

I froze as soon as I flipped the light on. My shower curtain was pulled to the side, revealing the wall of tile surrounding my shower. I always pulled the curtain closed when I was done. Why was it not…

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cullen!”

The door to my guest room was suddenly yanked open and seconds later Cullen appeared in the doorway to my bathroom, eyes wide and hair a mess of curls.

“What happened? Is everything alright?”

I must have resembled a fish the way my mouth hung open as I stared.

“Farrada?”

“You're real.”

“Yes?”

“I didn't dream you.”

Cullen relaxed visibly and chuckled at that. It was a rich, deep sound that positively made me shudder. “Does that happen often?”

“I - wait, no, but…” I suddenly became hyper aware that I wasn't wearing a bra and crossed my arms over my chest. But then I took another look at the man standing in front of me and noticed something that had at first escaped my sleep-addled mind.

“Cullen? You, ah… you're not wearing any pants.”

Cullen's expression turned again to one of shock as he looked down and realized I was right. He was clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, and as hesitant as I was about the stranger in my home I suddenly wanted to run my hands over every inch of him. I settled for biting my lip, and a sudden pounding in my head reminded me of my hangover.

Cullen blushed and his hand flew to the back of his neck as mine flew to cover my face, blocking out the light along with the tempting figure in front of me.

“Maker's Breath, I didn't realize, I just heard you shout and… Farrada?” I felt a pang in my chest at the concern in his voice.

“Just a hangover, I'll be fine,” I tried my best to sound convincing as I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I need to get ready for work, and you should probably put on some clothes.”

“Right… I'll get right to that,” he replied.

As soon as I heard the door shut behind him I stepped back into the bathroom, turned on the cold water in my sink, and splashed it on my face. I always hated the sensation of water on my face but after seeing Cullen like… that, I could practically feel my cheeks burning. Cullen being here only complicated my morning. I had to get myself ready for work and make sure he had something to eat - that he would be ok alone in a completely alien world until I could get back. I glanced at my reflection, grimacing at the dark circles around my eyes. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. But then I look further down and notice the light bruising on my neck from Cullen’s fingerprints.

“Fuck…” I brushed my fingertips along the marks, glad for the lack of pain at the touch. The bruises were light, but against my pale skin they were still noticeable.

I rushed through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck just to get it out of the way. I took the simplest course of action to make sure Cullen would be fed: I threw some bread into my toaster and let that go while I changed. I hadn’t been at my new office for a full week yet, so I was trying to keep my tattoos hidden while my coworkers warmed up to me. Some opaque tights concealed the marks on my legs that would have otherwise been visible from beneath my black pencil skirt and my favorite, red sweater covered my video game sleeve. I used my white scarf decorated in foxes to hide the bruises on my neck and decided to call it good enough.

Cullen was silent through all of this. I barely heard a scuffle from the guest room as I slipped on my rings and my opal necklace. As if he had been waiting on me, the door to his room opened soon after mine. He kept his eyes down, a blush still on his face that I would have enjoyed had I more time. Instead I rushed back into my kitchen and grabbed my peanut butter and honey mix to make him a sandwich.

“I know you’re confused - I know this world is completely alien to you,” I called out to him as I spread the peanut butter over the freshly toasted bread, trying not to drool at the smell as it melted against the hot surface. “But I absolutely have to go to work, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try to explain things tonight, and I’ll try to come back here on my lunch break to make sure you get food.”

“I am not a child,” Cullen responded, only slightly indignant. I hadn’t heard him approach the kitchen and nearly jumped when his voice sounded closer to me than I expected. “I am, in fact, capable of looking after myself.”

I sighed heavily. I knew this was nowhere near easy for him, but why the fuck did this have to happen on a work day? “In Thedas. You could look after yourself in Thedas,” I handed him the plate with his breakfast, and the hunger in his eyes betrayed him.

“Modern day earth is quite a bit different. Just… Let me get you caught up and you’ll be good to go. For now, I’m gonna worry. It’s what I do.” I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time - 7 minutes until I needed to be out the door.

“I’m sorry about the breakfast, I could do better if I had more time but I really need to go. Will you be ok?”

Cullen’s expression softened at my concern and he nodded. His brows furrowed as he noticed the scarf covering my neck. “I didn’t mean… are you alright?”

I moved the fabric enough that he could see the marks and flashed a smile. “This? This is nothing. I have worse than this from moving boxes.”

The crease in his brow remained. “When will you be back?”

I pointed to the display on my microwave, thankful I had already set up the clock. “I take lunch at 12 o’clock. I’ll be here a little after that and I’ll be done with work at 5. I normally get home by 5:20, ok?” God, I hope he gets this whole ‘time’ concept. Thedas doesn’t have clocks, does it?

Cullen simply nodded silently and bit into his peanut butter and honey sandwich. I felt a twist in my gut as I slipped on my flats and grabbed my purse. What if he’s not here when I get back? I tried to ignore the thought and instead pointed out my bookshelf for him.

“Feel free to browse through those or something while I’m gone. The top three shelves are all completely fictional but the second shelf from the bottom is my collection of history books, if you can call it that. I’ll be back.”

Cullen smiled at me, his scar jerking up with his lips. “I’ll be here.”

And with my heart in my throat, I left.

25 minutes later I walked into my building with my purse slung over one shoulder, McDonald’s bag and coke in one hand with my badge in the other. I had already finished my hash brown and between the crispy potatoes and sips of coke I had consumed on the drive, I was feeling better. Not perfect, but better. Between my terrible habit of speeding and a stroke of luck on the morning traffic, I had ten minutes to enjoy the rest of my breakfast before I had to log onto the phones.

Ten minutes alone with my thoughts.

Last night was a haze to me. I remembered unpacking after work but my shoulders gave out on me from the effort I had exerted throughout the week and so I had decided to take a break and drink instead. After all, one of my best friends from back home had sent me off with a bottle of her favorite whiskey. I remembered calling her once I got tipsy, laughing at nothing and catching her up on everything until she told me I needed to sober up. I made a cup of tea and then…

Cullen. I rested my forehead in one hand as I continued eating my breakfast.

Jesus Christ, Cullen is in my flat. What the actual fuck.

I tried to concentrate, but between the whiskey I had drunk before he arrived and the faint fuzz still clouding my head as the caffeine kicked in, nothing was definite. Nothing but the ache around my throat and a memory…

Cullen, hair dripping wet, covered in nothing but a towel and in my living room. My face felt hot as the memory suddenly hit me. That and the sight of him in nothing but those boxers this morning, even if I had hidden my face from him, there was still that bulge, no doubt a result of the early morning. Even though I had only had a glance before covering my eyes, the image of Cullen clad in nothing but black boxer shorts seemed seared into my mind. God, and what a sight it was...

“Morning! You’re here early!” a voice in the breakroom broke me out of my thoughts and I felt my cheeks grow even warmer. I tried to force a smile on my face.

“Decided to get breakfast on the way over,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I’m bad with names. What was yours again?”

“Chrysanthemum, but everyone just calls me Chrys,” she poured herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. I repeated the name in my head as I stared at the back of her head. She was the only person in the office with hair that was such a pale blond. It fell just past her shoulder in half curl, half waves. It had been the first thing I noticed about her. The second had been her smile - friendly and warm.

“Don’t feel bad, I only have one name to learn. You’ve got about 60.” She grabbed a cup of yogurt from the fridge and turned to me, breakfast in one hand and that reassuring smile shining bright. “You’ll get there. Happy Friday!”

I nodded and mumbled the sentiment in return before gathering my trash to deposit and finding my way to my cubicle.  The first half of my work day went by blessedly fast. I had less than a handful of phone calls and after the last few days, I was familiar enough with our database that I didn’t have to keep customers waiting while I found their records and their invoices. There was still a large stack of payments to process leftover from the sudden departure of whoever had held the job before me, but payments were my favorite part of the job.

Twelve o’clock snuck up on me and I barely had time to grab my purse and call out “going off site for lunch” to my boss before running down the stairs. He grunted an acknowledgement and that was good enough for me. I had a blonde (former) Templar to check up on.

I could feel my hands shaking as I approached my flat. I knew I should stop and take a moment to collect myself but I was on a time crunch and part of me frantically wondered if he was even still there. The building was still standing, so at least he hadn’t accidentally burned my new place down. Jesus, I really should have tried to explain more of this shit to him before just leaving him alone.

I tried to take a steadying breath as I slid my key into the lock and opened the door to my place, but I knew that with my heart racing and a million “what if’s” racing through my head, focusing on my damn breathing wouldn’t do a thing. In fact, in the past it had made my panic attacks worse. But as I opened the door to my flat I glanced across my living room to the open patio door and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe entirely.

Cullen stood on my balcony with his back to me, overlooking the tree-spotted city before him. Bellingham wasn’t a huge city by any means, but between the size and the technology that allowed us to move so much faster and reach so much higher, I could only imagine how Cullen felt staring at what must be an alien world to him.

Even with his back to me, he was beautiful. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes as the thought crossed my mind - how cliche - but it was true. The pale green sweater he wore stretched wonderfully across his well muscled back. His hair - so strictly maintained throughout his scenes in Dragon Age: Inquisition - was an unruly mess of curls that still just begged me to run my fingers through it, even as I felt the need to maintain my space. Physical attraction aside, the man was still a stranger. I couldn’t even be sure exactly which version of Thedas he had come from.

Cullen turned as he heard the door shut behind me. His hand flew to his neck and he started to move back inside. “I was starting to think it would never stop raining. I wanted to enjoy the sunshine.”

“No need to explain. What else are balconies for?” I set my bag and keys down in their usual spot and headed towards my kitchen as he came inside and closed the doors behind him. “Hungry? I’ve got leftovers I was planning on re-heating.”

Cullen nodded and I removed my leftover parmesan chicken from the fridge. I grabbed two plates as the food warmed up in my microwave and turned back to face him. He was standing in my living room, still looking uncomfortable. I couldn’t really blame him.

“How have you managed so far this morning? I know technology-wise we only really got to talk about the fire place and light switches last night.” Cullen watched with fascination as I pulled the now hot chicken from the microwave and plated each piece.

“Truth be told, without any soldiers to drill or recovering templars to look after, I went back to sleep,” Cullen admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I thought it might be best I touch as little as possible for fear of setting the apartment on fire.”

“Hey, there’s only one magic fire button in here,” I shot back with a smirk as I set his food on my coffee table, one of the few empty, solid surfaces in my apartment. Cullen settled onto my couch with his food and after a moment of hesitation, I chose to sit in my computer chair facing him with my plate on my lap. Maybe not a wonderful idea with a hot plate, but I didn’t want to sit on the couch next to him. I just hoped he didn't think I was being rude.

“So. You mentioned caring for recovering Templars, which answers part of the question I needed to ask you.”

Cullen quickly swallowed his mouthful before answering, “Which is?”

I hesitated, popping a bite of the re-heated chicken in my mouth as I stalled to collect my thoughts. “The game that I know you from… There are different outcomes depending on the choices the player makes and I need to know… What happened to you between Kinloch hold and Kirkwall?”

Cullen paused with his food halfway to his mouth, one brow raised in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s personal and that’s not a time in your life you enjoy thinking about but,” I bit my cheek hard. Just ask the question. You need to know. “It never happened in any of my games, but there’s a possible outcome where you sort of go crazy and kill some innocent mages.”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide in what I assumed was genuine shock. I was never able to tell when someone was lying, but then Cullen never seemed like a talented liar in the games. “Never! Those blood mages may have tortured and imprisoned me and yes, I regret some of my actions in the years after, but I never took the life of an innocent mage!”

Maybe it was just the situation and the emotionally weighted question, but his response did unfortunately nothing to untie the knot weighing heavily in the pit of my stomach. Before I could respond my phone began to ring, and my boss’s name showed on the screen. Cullen gave a quizzical look at the device in my hands. “Shit, just a second,” I muttered towards him before answering the call.

“Hey, boss.”

“You didn’t leave anything at the office did you?”

“I don’t think so?” Anxiety fluttered in my chest for a moment. Surely I hadn’t done something to deserve being fired already?

“Good. Most of the staff took today off for the holiday weekend so we’re closing the office early today. Don’t come back in. See you Tuesday!”

The line went dead before I could respond. I let out a shaky breath as I placed my phone down on my kitchen counter and turned towards Cullen, who was staring at device in fascination. “Dorian once gave the inquisitor something like that… it let them communicate after the mage went home to Tevinter.”

I nodded absently, glad that the writers of Dragon Age had put something similar to phones in the game. That would make at least one thing a little easier to explain.

“That was my boss. They don’t need me back for the rest of the day so, I guess I’m yours.” I tried not to wince at the unintentional suggestion and prepared myself for a very long afternoon trying to explain the 21st century to a fantasy video game character.